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Blood seemed impossible to clean, no matter how hard he scrubbed.
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Staying late at the studio, you’d learned, was both a blessing and a curse. The worn leather of the chair you’d found yourself in for the night, squeaked as you shifted. A tired sigh escaped you as your gaze drifted to look at the only person dedicated, or stupid, enough to stay late to work on your new single with you. Joonas.
This goes out to my one mutual on tumblr who said she’d read it 🫶🫶

