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Summary
“It’ll be my farm soon enough,” Shinsuke says, dropping his hands to his sides with a shrug. “My grandmother’s getting old, and my mother’s brother wants to move into the city within the next five years.”
Under the blanket, Aran drags his knuckles over the thin bones of Shinsuke’s wrist. The touch leaves as quickly as it comes. “Well, if it’s your farm, can I get an open invitation to visit?”
Shinsuke thinks about flowers, among other things.