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Summary
Atsumu’s really done it this time – he’s not coming out of this alive. He presses himself hard against the wall in the hope he might phase through it. The way the creature clawing at the sink stills in its frantic movements tells him he’s gone nowhere – he’s fucked.
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“You have an awful sense of self-preservation,” Sakusa says quietly, hand pulling Atsumu’s chin to face him again.
“That’s something ya can say again,” Atsumu agrees, eyes locking on the pink mouth centimetres away from his own.
