bugquokka
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Minho was still standing there, like an idiot; he felt like one anyway. He shuffled nervously. He didn’t know what to do, or say. He supposedly needs milk but now he wasn’t sure if he wanted the milk more than the guy behind the counter.
“Do you need anything?” the guy asked him, making direct eye contact. Minho felt weak
Just milk, just milk, just milk–
“Just your milk,” he blurted out.
“I’m sorry?”