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Summary
“I just— Urak— oh god, fuck— I-I—” Till rambles, frantic, frustrated tears welling up at his inability to just form a fucking sentence.
“Slow down,” Ivan interrupts quickly, and then he falls silent. For a few agonisingly long seconds, he wonders if Ivan hung up on him. He lets out a muffled sob at the thought.
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or, till makes a mess. ivan helps clean it up.
