A gay medical romance full of heat, heartbreak, and impossible choices.
Luca is twenty-two, ginger-haired, tough on the outside—and absolutely alone. His mother is a violent alcoholic who brings strangers home every night. Since childhood, Luca has been escaping onto the streets, getting into fights, and ending up in the emergency room more often than he can count.
Now he works there—as a hospital orderly in the same provincial clinic where he once was a regular patient. Life is bearable until his younger brother falls gravely ill. The diagnosis? He needs a double lung transplant. The cost? Astronomical. The chance? Zero. The hospital can’t perform such surgeries, and their country won’t pay for them.
Enter Dr. Heinrich Weber—an enigmatic, world-class surgeon from Austria, working in this obscure hospital for reasons no one understands. He’s cold, brilliant, and worshipped by politicians and billionaires alike. But rumor has it… he’s not into women.
Luca sees a single impossible path: seduce the untouchable doctor and convince him to help. It starts as a desperate game—but neither of them is ready for what follows. Especially when secrets, power, and real emotion collide in a hospital that hears every whisper.
This is a gay love story. Explicit 18+ content included.
Chapter 1
“Hey, orderly! Where can I find your famous surgeon? Which office is he in? I don’t need a full examination or whatever you people call it. I just want to talk to the surgeon—the head guy. That’s it. I’ve already done all the tests—blood, scans, the whole lot, a thousand times. What’s the point? I just want the operation. I’ll pay. Of course I will. You can see that I’ve got the money!”
Damn it. I was so fed up with these smartasses. I’d been sitting in the deserted hallway of the city hospital for about twenty minutes, waiting my turn for an ultrasound. The head nurse had passed by several times already, each time openly suggesting I cut the line and just walk into the office. She even hinted that I could use my position to skip ahead—just bump the next patient and go in.
I declined. I chose to sit quietly on one of the four worn-out chairs against the wall and wait until I was called. I’d planned to catch a nap while I waited—my first break after vacation—but no such luck.
One of the orderlies brought in a loud-mouthed, long-legged guy and parked him at the same office. The guy kept jabbing at his phone and demanding to see the surgeon. I stayed silent. Yes, I work at this hospital. Yes, I am that surgeon. But today, I’m off duty. And I need help myself. He can wait like everyone else. There’s another doctor covering for me today.
While I tried to focus on anything but him, the pushy patient kept escalating the situation. He bombarded every passing staff member with questions. So far, no one had outed me. But the orderly might ruin that.
He was a young man with messy red hair. He’d just wheeled up another patient—a man in his fifties with a black eye and a split lip.
“So what now?” the rich loudmouth kept pushing. He was tall, skinny, and awkwardly built. He slumped into a seat closer to the door of the adjacent office. “How do I get to the surgeon? Who do I need to pay?”
The orderly shot me a glance with his fox-like amber eyes. At that moment, I was scratching my unshaven chin and subtly signaled to him not to give me away. I brought my index finger to my lips—keep quiet.
The guy in the green orderly uniform—its color only drawing more attention to his striking, foxish gaze—turned his eyes toward the loudmouth.
“Hey, man, what’s your name?” the “basketball player” stood up from his chair. His long, bony legs were half-exposed under basketball shorts. He walked over to the red-haired orderly and casually placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Luca,” the hospital worker answered patiently.
Still, there was something rebellious in his face: those thick, straight eyebrows, the stubborn line of his nose, the proud, angular chin, and high cheekbones. He wasn’t as simple as he tried to seem in this job. Young, sure—but not simple. I’d bet good money he was the biggest troublemaker in his neighborhood. And that pale skin of his? Girls his age were probably losing their minds over it, worshipping the raw charm of a beauty still unfolding. A young swan who hadn’t yet spread his wings—but already, his feathers gleamed in the sun, dazzling everyone around.
“Listen, Luca,” the guy said, lowering his voice. “I’ll pay you, and you introduce me to the surgeon. What’s his name—Dr. Weber?”
The patient pulled Luca closer and ruffled his hair like they were buddies. “You guys earn peanuts here, right? And you can’t even get an appointment with your Austrian doctor. I’ll pay you and him. Just fix me up.”
Luca stayed perfectly calm.
“How did you get here in the first place?” he asked.
“The guy at reception looked at my paperwork and handed me off to your ‘team.’ I’ve been wandering these halls for an hour now. The smell of bleach is making me sick. I’ve got allergies, you know? And I’ve already done every kind of test. They’re pointless. I need a surgeon.”
“If they sent you here,” Luca replied, his voice steady and firm, “then the doctors believe you should go through the full evaluation. Based on the results, they’ll decide whether you need a surgeon or not.”
“Hey, man! You’re not listening,” the patient stepped away, irritated. “I’ve already done all the evaluations! You… what, you don’t want money? How long am I supposed to sit here waiting for an ultrasound? I need this done fast!”
“Everyone waits,” Luca answered, still calm. “You’ll be called in the order the staff determines. There are patients with more urgent needs.”
“And how long is that gonna take?!”
“Depends,” Luca said with a shrug. “Sometimes it’s quick. Other times… patients wait over five hours.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Are you completely brain-dead? Where’s your management? If you won’t let me see the surgeon, then let me go! I’ll head to the capital—what the hell am I even doing here?!”
The patient stormed off on his stilts toward the nurses’ station, finally granting a moment of peace to the rest of us—the man on the stretcher with a black eye, and me.
Luca, no heavyweight himself, his slim, angular build visible even through the loose green uniform, calmly adjusted the IV line for the injured patient. I caught myself watching his wrists—those fine, masculine wrists, deft and practiced in the tedious routines of hospital work. There was something about them that stirred my imagination. Without even realizing it, my gaze slipped over the lines of his body.
“Would you like me to bring you some coffee?”
Luca had leaned down and whispered the offer quickly, quietly—just for me.
My nostrils were instantly seized by his scent. I swear, I felt my pupils dilate. There was far too much information carried in that smell. Cheap soap, hard water, the sharp trace of low-end deodorant barely masking sweat—young, unfiltered male sweat—and a faint trace of cigarette smoke clinging to him like memory.
I’ve been working in this hospital for over three years now. I moved to Latvia from Austria. My education and most of my experience as a surgeon came from my second homeland. And once I relocated to this forgotten little city, I earned the title of the youngest and most successful surgeon around.
Sure, next to this guy—I’m an old man. But in my field, being just over thirty still qualifies as practically a newborn. Add to that the fact I look nothing like a stereotypical bookworm—more like a bouncer from the local nightclub—and… well. Turns out, I actually am a better surgeon than the rest. No exaggeration needed.
With that title came everything else: the money that long-legged patients like him are willing to pay—the sons of the town’s elite—and the unwavering, almost fanatical admiration of both the hospital staff and its patients. The women here claim I look like some famous actor. Maybe they actually believe it, because they trail after me like shadows, dreaming I’ll choose one of them to marry. I don’t agree with any of their lofty ideas about me. I’ve stopped correcting them. I just go quiet now, retreating deeper into myself every time someone starts gushing about how amazing I supposedly am.
My adoptive father, Lothar Weber, was a surgeon too. He was a star. And I’m still miles away from ever reaching his level. He raised me to value fitness, to take care of my body, my health. But here, in this provincial little town, having an athletic figure and dressing well, grooming yourself more than once a year—apparently that’s enough to be considered a god.
What the local lonely women don’t realize, though, is that I’m not into the fairer sex.
Not that I’m into just anyone, either.
“No need,” I muttered through clenched teeth. I wasn’t trying to be rude. No, I’m not into just anyone—but this guy had me gritting my teeth to keep from visibly drooling. “But… thanks for not giving me away.”
“No problem.”
Luca smiled. His lips, a little chapped and flushed from lack of sleep and constant fatigue, parted to reveal a shockingly white set of teeth. That smile—God, that smile. Clean white canines, neither too big nor too small. Just right. The perfect, natural smile.
“Heinrich!”
The door to the exam room behind Luca swung open. My colleague Elena stepped out—curvy brunette, fire-red manicure, big blue eyes—and motioned me inside like a queen summoning her subject.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw your name on the list! Weber, really? What a surprise!” she chirped. “I’m so sorry for making you wait. Come in, come in!”
While Elena spoke, Luca slipped quietly into the room behind her and wheeled out the patient who had already finished his exam. But before the door could close again, the shout rang down the hall like a gunshot:
“Weber?! That’s him?! You bastard! Why didn’t you say something?!”
The tall guy—Basketball Legs—charged toward us just as I crossed the threshold into Elena’s office. The door slid shut behind me and locked automatically with a soft click.
“Not even a moment’s peace, huh?” Elena gave me a sympathetic glance.
“Don’t worry,” she added, noticing the pounding on the other side of her door. “He’s not getting in here unless I say so. These patients—honestly, they don’t even see us as human anymore. As if we’re not allowed to get sick too.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have reacted. It’s part of the orderlies’ job to buffer surgeons from that kind of drama, and I’m supposed to protect my hands above all else. Doesn’t matter that I’m a couple centimeters shorter than Basketball Legs and built like a tank in comparison—broad-shouldered, trained, hitting the gym and the pool on a regular basis. I could flatten most people without breaking a sweat.
But I’m a surgeon. That’s the one unshakable rule. And yet—
The moment I heard the unmistakable crack of a fist meeting someone’s face outside that door, I slapped my palm against the white square button on the wall. The door slid open instantly, and I stepped into the hallway, ready to help Luca—because a guy like that could easily hurt someone as young and slim as him.
But I stopped short. There was no help needed. The basketball player was curled on the floor, clutching his left side in obvious pain. His lip was bleeding, sure—but that wasn’t what had dropped him.
That kind of pain was something else entirely.
“Stretcher!” I shouted into the air as I crouched beside the basketball player and gave him a quick, professional once-over. People appeared out of nowhere almost instantly. I forgot about my own aches and pulled the agitated patient into my office. For the time being, I pushed all thoughts of the attentive orderly to the back of my mind.
Chapter 2
“Only Weber can help you. Luca, your brother needs surgery—urgently. Either you find the money, or you somehow manage to convince Weber to help you. Don’t look at me like that. You know full well what kind of reputation he has. The Austrian is… well, he’s in a league of his own. He’s a genius, and geniuses get away with being difficult. He trained in top clinics with cutting-edge equipment. He’s already performed surgeries others wouldn’t dare attempt. That’s just the reality.”
I stood near the hospital’s ambulance entrance, lit a cigarette with a furious flick of my lighter, and kicked the big metal trash bin by the curb. Damn it. I’d just screwed everything up. Completely ruined Thomas’s last hope for recovery. Not that I’d ever had much of a chance. Trying to convince the great surgeon to help us for free—or even on credit—was already a fantasy. The bank won’t give me a loan. I haven’t worked long enough. I don’t make enough. And now, after ruining Weber’s day off and causing a scene during his ultrasound consult, I’ve sealed our fate. He’s never going to help me now.
As Doctor Laine, our on-call surgeon, always says—Weber does his own thing. Young, arrogant, a living legend in this little town. Women adore him. Patients idolize him. He practically swims in attention. Private clients line up around the block, flying in from all over Europe. You couldn’t get on his schedule even if you slept outside his door.
And then today, of all days, I got lucky. I ran into him in the hallway. Even helped him, a little. Tried to make an impression. I thought maybe if I brought him coffee—or threw down a rug for him to walk on, whatever it took—he might remember me.
So yeah, I punched that tall idiot when he lunged for Weber. I was trying to protect him. Impress him, maybe. And now I think I hit too hard. Ruined everything.
God forbid that patient—who Weber just whisked off for emergency surgery, free of charge—decides to press charges. Or worse, if he sues Weber because of me.
“Luca, stop destroying hospital property!”
Out of nowhere, the head nurse materialized beside me—Alexandra. Tall blonde, hair always pulled back in a tight ponytail. Today, under her white coat, she was wearing bright red pants that had already become the butt of every joke in the department. Not that I saw anything funny about them. Sasha had a damn fine figure, and those pants showed it off. At least, that’s how I saw it—from a male perspective, anyway.
“I’m not destroying anything,” I muttered.
“Then do something useful—light me up.”
I flicked my lighter a few times and held the flame to her cigarette. She took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, wearily.
“God, every time I take that first puff, it’s like the end of wild sex. That’s the kind of job we’ve got—one long, exhausting screw, and we’re always on the bottom!” she cackled at her own sarcastic jab.
“So you’re the one who knocked out the patient? Poor Weber had to operate on his day off.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, dropping my head. I wasn’t ashamed in front of her. I hated myself for screwing up. It was the street. The one I’d lived on since I was eleven, while my mom was off getting high and searching for my next ‘dad.’ That’s what she used to say, anyway. I barely spent time at home, drifting instead between basements, train stations, and the back rooms of kind-hearted employers who took pity on me.
“I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.”
“What?” Alexandra burst into laughter, her voice rough from years of smoking. “You think you sent him to the ER with that punch? Please. Sweetheart, you need to read a few books. He’s got stomach issues. Weber’ll figure out what’s actually wrong with him. There’ve been a dozen theories floating around, but it’s definitely not your hook that floored him. Relax. He came in like that. Now Weber’s patching him up and sending him home. You know our Weber—golden hands! Hear me, Luca? Golden hands!”
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”
“If you hear me, then why the long face? Your brother doing worse?”
“No, he’s stable. I just… I blew my shot at talking to Weber.”
“Ah,” she sighed, tucking her right hand into her left armpit. It was early autumn, the kind of day when the morning rain had soaked everything, and standing outside without a coat was a miserable choice. But going all the way back inside for a jacket? Too much effort. That’s how it is around here—you get a chance to sneak a break, you smoke half-naked if you have to, before someone ropes you into another task.
“So… this is about Thomas?”
“Yeah.”
I stubbed out my cigarette in the metal bin but stayed where I was, lingering like a kid hoping someone would notice and talk to him.
“Laine put you up to this, didn’t he? I mean, he’s not wrong—but it’s useless. You’ll never get through to Weber. Young, hot, brilliant… arrogant little shit. And completely out of reach. Never says hi unless he has to. Doesn’t thank you even if you spend the whole day dancing attendance on him. Typical superstar behavior. But you know what, Luca? You seen his eyes? And those lips? Damn! The man’s a dream!”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a woman.”
“That’s exactly why you’re useless, Luca. If you were a woman, you could’ve just slept with Weber for one night and gotten whatever you wanted. Of course, not just any woman. You’ve got Danish blood from your dad, right? Imagine if you were a Danish woman. The locals don’t stand a chance—none of them’s gotten anywhere. All they do is dream and fantasize. And the kids they’d have with him? Gorgeous. If they took after him, that is. He totally reminds me of a young Brad Pitt. Just as stunning.”
Honestly? I couldn’t care less who Weber looks like.
I kicked the trash can again and walked off without saying a word, heading back to work. Somehow I felt even worse than before. What does it matter how he looks? He’s never going to be the one who saves my brother. And the worst part? I don’t have any other options. Not in this city.
I’m just a street rat. Even getting this job was a miracle. I was twenty-two and barely managed to get hired here for a trial period, out of pity more than anything. After a couple of weeks, I proved I was willing to bust my ass, and they let me stay. That’s my ceiling. My old classmates are off getting their college degrees, and I can’t even afford to dream about that. My grades were crap by the time I finished school. When you’ve got no place to sleep and nothing to eat, you’re not exactly worried about math homework.
Still, I scraped through and got my diploma. University would be great, but I’ve got other things to deal with. Like my kid brother, who got admitted a few days ago with a terrifying diagnosis. Our mom doesn’t give a damn. Shot up and passed out somewhere. She doesn’t even know Thomas is here. No one cares.
Who does Weber look like? A giant, smug Austrian, that’s who.
Steel-gray eyes framed with lashes too perfect for a guy. Square jaw. That scruffy stubble. Those full, sculpted lips he curled in disdain when I offered to bring him coffee. Women literally make up legends about his mouth, dreaming of a passionate kiss from those damn lips. He’s got the build of a god, the height of a model, and—
That haircut. Like something off a magazine cover. White hair spiked just right, sides trimmed short—totally on trend. I swear, his barber charges more in an hour than I make in a month. Oh wait—excuse me, Your Honor. It’s not a barber. It’s a barbershop. Some people are just born lucky. Good family, good education, and for some reason he decides to leave successful, shiny Europe to end up here, in our miserable little town.
What the hell is he even doing here?
“Luca! Get your skinny ass over here! One of the patients needs to use the bathroom—where the hell’ve you gone?!”
I helped an elderly woman into the wheelchair. She’d come in about an hour ago complaining of chest pains. I wheeled her down the hallway, took a right at the end, and did what I do every day. And the whole time, one thought kept gnawing at me—was there any chance I could fix this?
Sasha said it wasn’t me who took that guy down. Meaning it wasn’t my fault he ended up on the chopping block—as our staff so affectionately call the OR. They say surgeons are just butchers who love their meat a little too much. Patients often come back missing something. A liver here, a kidney there—depends on the butcher’s mood. What’s on the menu today?
Jokes aside, I really need one of those butchers right now.
And I have no idea how to get to him.
If only I were a woman…
Chapter 3
“That’s it! I’m outta here!” I pulled off my gloves and gown, tossed them into the bin, and headed for the exit, handing over my patients to today’s on-call doctor, Laine.
“Weber, seriously—thanks, man. I owe you,” said Johan, shaking my hand.
Broad-shouldered and sporting a round belly, Johan was the kind of doctor everyone teased behind his back. They all wondered how the hell he managed to see past that gut to perform surgery. Word was, he’d trained himself to suck it in when necessary.
“You know,” he continued, “this one was tricky. I checked him out a couple of days ago and honestly, there were no real signs. Just some pain in the left side. That’s it.”
“It happens.”
I didn’t show any reaction to my colleague’s carelessness. Just walked out of the OR. I’d had enough for one day, and it wasn’t my place to lecture a more senior doctor. He missed it. It happens. Maybe he was overworked. We all are sometimes. I’ve only been in this profession for ten years. I still have a lot to learn. Talent alone doesn’t cut it. Talent needs practice. Complex cases. Repetition. Only then does talent evolve into true skill.
“Aren’t you going to see Elena?” Dr. Laine called after me in the hallway. “She asked about you. Still waiting. Hasn’t gone home yet.”
“Elena?”
I was about to ask who he meant, racking my brain—and then I remembered the scent of cigarettes and soap. Luca. The charming orderly with the sharp little nose. The guy who stepped in to defend me earlier in the ER.
“Yeah, Elena. At the door to her office, that orderly floored our dear patient with a right hook—the same one you just operated on,” my colleague chuckled into his mustache. “Good kid, that orderly. But he’s got problems.”
I turned back to Johan.
“What kind of problems?”
“Oh? He hasn’t told you yet?” Dr. Laine raised his graying eyebrows. “His younger brother was brought into our ICU. We put the kid into an induced coma. He needs a lung transplant. And you know as well as I do—we don’t do those here. At least, I won’t touch that.”
“What about their parents?” I already had a feeling I knew the answer.
I remembered the smell of cigarettes, the deep shadows under those bold, copper-colored eyes. That guy didn’t look like someone who grew up in a happy home.
“If only they had proper parents!” sighed Dr. Laine. “There’s just the mother, and she’s a junkie. She already lost custody of Luca, and it’s only a matter of time before child services take Thomas too. Not once has she visited him since he was admitted. The boys have different fathers. I’ve known Luca for years. He spent most of his childhood arriving here by ambulance. Broken bones, infections so bad we barely brought him back from the brink. He used to run away from home, then from the orphanage. Slept and ate wherever he could. Then he grew up a bit, asked if he could work here—and we took him in. That kid works like a mule. And now that his brother needs help, he hasn’t left the hospital at all.”
“Tell me exactly what brought his brother in,” I said, cutting him off.
“Suspected flu. But things spiraled quickly and turned into a severe case of pneumonia. Now both his lungs are badly damaged. He needs a transplant, or the kid won’t survive.”
“Can you show me his file?”
I already knew I wouldn’t be able to rest or go home until I got to the bottom of this. A lung transplant is no joke. Even I wouldn’t attempt it—not yet. Johan certainly wouldn’t. But I do know people. I went to a top university, and many of my classmates now work in hospitals all over the world. A lot of them are doing great. I also know a few surgeons who’ve performed lung transplants successfully more than once. They might be able to help. The only question is whether Dr. Laine got the diagnosis right.
“Whoa, now! And here I thought you wouldn’t even listen till the end.”
“What made you think that?”
“Well… Weber, the entire hospital walks on eggshells around you, and now here you are, suddenly all empathetic. Or is this your way of saying thanks for the orderly’s punch?”
“No, Dr. Laine. Just because I don’t gossip with colleagues or waste words doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to help a patient. No matter how hopeless it might seem. That’s why I became a doctor in the first place. I assume that’s true for you too.”
“Of course it is, what are you saying, colleague!”
Laine wrinkled his nose ever so slightly—his way of showing he didn’t buy my noble speech. Fine. None of that mattered now. I rolled up the sleeves of my black sweater to my elbows and braced myself. The night wasn’t over yet. And I had a shift tomorrow. So much for my return from the islands. But I was glad. The pain in my gut had vanished like it was never there. Work gave me that familiar rush, like a shot of adrenaline. Somewhere in this hospital, there was a kid who might still be saved—and I might be the one to help him.
Taking the thick file from Johan—full of test results, analyses, and diagnoses from various specialists in our hospital—I headed straight to my office and locked myself in until morning. There was a lot to go through, and I needed to sort everything out as quickly as possible. Immersed in the work, I pushed away any thoughts of Luca. The short story about the guy had genuinely touched me. In fact, everything that had happened tonight couldn’t leave anyone indifferent.
I’m already past thirty. And even though I was raised in Austria, I wasn’t born there. I was born right here, in this very city. Then I was adopted by a European couple who gave me their surname and a new first name—Weber. They both passed away recently, and that’s what led me to come back here—to find traces of who I was, to dig up the roots of my past. I have no one else in the world now. And if I had a brother, I wouldn’t have abandoned him either.
But that’s a story for another time. Right now, there’s a boy’s life depending, at least in part, on the decision I’m about to make.
By early morning, after finishing my review of the case and making several long international calls, I locked my office and headed to the hospital parking lot. My motorcycle had been waiting for me there for over a day. It was 4:30 a.m.—no traffic, I’d get home without a problem. I might even go for a run…
Out on the street, as I was slipping on my leather jacket, I noticed a figure standing by my sleek, black bike. It was the orderly. Interesting. What was he doing here? Ah, right—he wanted to talk. Too bad I wasn’t in the mood for talking. On top of that, Luca had a cigarette clenched between his cracked lips. I hate smoking. Though today might be one of those rare days when I wouldn’t mind dragging in a couple of breaths of that nasty smoke myself.
The guy was anxious, shifting from foot to foot. As soon as he saw me, he flicked the cigarette away and wiped his hands on his faded blue denim jacket. He had changed clothes, and I had to admit—he looked much better in jeans. Even better, he’d look good sitting on my bike.
Next to me.
“Doctor Weber,” Luca said as I approached.
I liked how short he was. From this angle, his thin frame looked even more appealing, and the pride and defiance in those copper-colored eyes had a dangerous charm. I’d been given a tall and broad build—so much so that no Austrian had ever doubted I was one of them. But the truth was… I was local. And now, looking down at the guy, I suddenly felt like his older brother. I imagined that’s probably how we looked from the outside too.
By staying silent, I prompted the orderly to keep talking. Despite how exhausted I was, my mouth filled with saliva all over again. Luca really was too beautiful. So fresh and sexy, it was nearly impossible to resist his charm.
“Doctor Weber,” he continued, nervously. “I didn’t… I just… I wanted to apologize for ruining your day off. I… I didn’t know the patient was in such bad shape. He ran after you, and I just tried to stop him… please don’t think—”
I glanced at him and was about to put on my helmet, desperate to get out of there before I snapped and ruined this boy’s life. But suddenly, Luca placed his hand on mine—the hand holding the helmet. He looked into my eyes.
“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
I brushed his fingers off. That slim wrist of his, just starting to take on a man’s shape—and I shoved the helmet onto my head. Goddamn it! A second longer and that guy would’ve been in trouble. I climbed onto my motorcycle, jammed the key into the ignition, and sped out of the parking lot, leaving Luca behind, watching me go.
Yeah, I was tired. Hell, I was exhausted. But exhaustion never dulled my hunger for sex. Especially not when I crossed paths with the most gorgeous guy on the planet. I needed to cool off. Badly. After spending the whole night going through his little brother’s medical case, there’s no way I’m going to act like a total bastard and seduce the Luca right here in the hospital.
First, I need to deal with Thomas.
After that… maybe then, I’ll let myself try.
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