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Summary
This whole thing wouldn’t have fucking happened if Osamu, that fucking asshole, had just stayed in the band, or if Atsumu had just gotten a different fucking job, and if he hadn’t married—shit, hadn’t even fucked Christina.
Then he wouldn’t be underneath Kiyoomi Sakusa, about to cheat on his wife, about to lose his gay virginity on the black leather couch in the fucking rehearsal studio.
Maybe he should explain.
