Jonghyun had never actually changed – his hands were still the warmest hands he had ever touched (even if there were not that many he actually had), fingers short and grip tight, like a real man he was. It was beyond him how much they were different, yet fitting like puzzles, his long, slender fingers perfectly intertwining with those thick of Jonghyun. He could praise that hold to all the gods of the earth, to everyone who might have listened to him, to mothers and fathers of young girls so they would have known what kind of a man they should have found for their little daughter.