@secretuser.6770: #leeyeon ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ he’s so cutie omg🥹 #fyp #redthreadquest #manwha #blmanhwa

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐲 ᨳଓ ˚. ᵎᵎ
𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐲 ᨳଓ ˚. ᵎᵎ
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Wednesday 29 April 2026 06:44:40 GMT
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yabafoobee
𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 !!ᰔ[89/70] :
red thread quest fan, AND ALNST???
2026-06-06 06:08:59
2
akotosishamirahh84
seia :
love crybaby tops
2026-06-12 07:06:40
5
.gl.itter_bomb
𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚢 ྀི :
He was top right?
2026-05-27 20:49:34
60
lvlylaine_3
Lainee [49%] :
2026-05-02 00:35:27
60
agnese.paladini_
agnes🌟 :
when s3..
2026-05-20 18:25:57
11
jeonginerr341
Natsuki K ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ :
After I finished reading this I realized how many times I've read it. I see myself reading it over and over again, I feel some type of attachment to leeyeon and I realize I'm a loser who keeps reading this so I can cry again and again.
2026-06-24 10:19:58
1
giseleisagi
gisele :
2026-04-29 07:07:03
36
heeseungvanish1009
nikiblurs :
HES SO PRETTY WHEN HE CRIES
2026-05-27 22:24:28
6
laurasballs0
Ivy🕷️ :
HES SOOOO CUTE I LOVE HIM
2026-05-31 05:58:44
1
heeseungvanish1009
nikiblurs :
THATS MY SON
2026-05-27 22:24:20
1
heeseungvanish1009
nikiblurs :
OMG
2026-05-27 22:24:23
1
xo.lucky7
ʚ𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮ɞ :
2026-05-01 03:44:01
7
genie10130
Xinluxjm :
Someone said he’s always either crying or eating a55 😭😭
2026-04-29 12:35:00
25
michaeljacksonismygoat1
sһᥲᥡ . 🍎♥︎ :
2026-05-05 02:20:15
6
dvs.qzz
天命₊⟡ :
I miss him 🥺 I’m letting it marinate rn
2026-05-05 16:47:11
4
heeseungvanish1009
nikiblurs :
HE MY FAVORITE CRY BABY
2026-05-27 22:24:17
0
haeminisms
haemi :
2026-05-30 12:31:26
0
komnazwerb7
¥oko🪽|| ˚୨୧⋆。 ⋆ :
[flushed][flushed][flushed][embarrassed]
2026-05-13 21:02:11
1
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​Sometimes, the weight of absence stretches across what feels like an eternity, turning days into long, hollow chambers of silence where every second is measured by the steady, painful rhythm of a heart waiting for a sign. There are moments when the distance feels manageable, a fleeting pause that I can endure, hoping that time will soften the sharp edges of longing. Yet, other times, the void is overwhelming, making even a couple of days feel like an insurmountable mountain that I cannot climb on my own. ​It is strange how the mind plays tricks on the soul, blurring the lines between reality and the fragments of our shared memories. Even in my dreams—the one place where I thought I would find sanctuary—there is a heavy, lingering sense of hesitation. Sometimes, the dream itself becomes burdened, as if the very subconscious version of you finds it difficult to appear, struggling against the gravity of our reality. It is as if you find it too arduous to even visit me in the quiet corridors of my sleep, adding a layer of exhaustion to the ache that already resides within me. ​I find myself trapped in this cycle of wondering when the tide will turn or when the distance will finally shrink into insignificance. It is a quiet suffering, this constant shifting between hopeful patience and the crushing weight of your perceived absence, even in the ethereal realm of dreams. I am left questioning if this fatigue is mine alone to carry, or if the gravity of our situation has become a heavy cloak that you, too, find difficult to cast aside.
​Sometimes, the weight of absence stretches across what feels like an eternity, turning days into long, hollow chambers of silence where every second is measured by the steady, painful rhythm of a heart waiting for a sign. There are moments when the distance feels manageable, a fleeting pause that I can endure, hoping that time will soften the sharp edges of longing. Yet, other times, the void is overwhelming, making even a couple of days feel like an insurmountable mountain that I cannot climb on my own. ​It is strange how the mind plays tricks on the soul, blurring the lines between reality and the fragments of our shared memories. Even in my dreams—the one place where I thought I would find sanctuary—there is a heavy, lingering sense of hesitation. Sometimes, the dream itself becomes burdened, as if the very subconscious version of you finds it difficult to appear, struggling against the gravity of our reality. It is as if you find it too arduous to even visit me in the quiet corridors of my sleep, adding a layer of exhaustion to the ache that already resides within me. ​I find myself trapped in this cycle of wondering when the tide will turn or when the distance will finally shrink into insignificance. It is a quiet suffering, this constant shifting between hopeful patience and the crushing weight of your perceived absence, even in the ethereal realm of dreams. I am left questioning if this fatigue is mine alone to carry, or if the gravity of our situation has become a heavy cloak that you, too, find difficult to cast aside.

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