After the kiss, Haechan's grip on Jeno getting tighter.

Jeno's hand is cold. Like a cold, cold. Haechan can't define what cold it is, because he never touch something like this in his entire nineteen age life.

But whatever that is, Haechan doesn't wish him to be warmer. Because, that's not who Jeno is. That's not who he's falling in love with.

“I've waited for this”

If Jeno was a human, his voice like a smoke of breath.

“For how long?”

“Eternity”