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He laughs, even as he pulls back to dodge the hit. "If those were my qualifications, I would virtually only ever kiss my friends. And I don't have enough of those to make that feasible in the slightest. I don't even like half of the people I've slept with."
"Oh, no?" He pushes to his feet. Away from the table he walks, over to the fireplace. It isn't burning so strongly, with spring coming into fullness, but still it burns to fight off the last of winter chill. And down he kneels, perfectly prepared to shove his head right into the flames—
There it is: one of those sudden moments of coldness. After all that play and fun and offering of protection, the wall comes down.
"You can't. And I wouldn't want you to." He draws to his feet, away from her touch. "There's no stripping back what I've been through to reveal the real boy underneath it."
"You can't. And I wouldn't want you to." He draws to his feet, away from her touch. "There's no stripping back what I've been through to reveal the real boy underneath it."
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