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Summary
You love Bo. You love him in that consuming, fireshrine way that makes you feel like you're a wicker pyre made to burn for him, for an atavistic god, and like a moth to an uncontrolled flame, you can't help but be drawn in by the blaze. Enraptured by it. You love the burn, love the heat, love him -
So, why - why - can’t you stop looking at Vincent?
