the lost seasons (I try to restore them)

A boy, significantly shorter than Namjoon and wrapped up tightly in a grey scarf, sleepy eyes half-hidden by soft brown locks, moves out of the crowd, both hands wrapping around the paper cup and he looks so cold and Namjoon moves without thinking, leaping out of his chair and pushing through the crowd because the boy is already leaving and holy shit that boy might be the owner of the name that’s been on his wrist for the past two years.
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