[It's easier to touch. So he touches. His fingers move from the bag of cinnamon buns, resting atop his friend's. He begins to link their fingers one by one. His expression softens, and for a moment he looks terribly guilty.]
... There is a place, somewhere, some time, when there was Atsumi instead of you.
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... There is a place, somewhere, some time, when there was Atsumi instead of you.