Pressing forehead against the window, sunlight illuminating his anguished expression I won't let you die for my miracle, beloved.
Intro Afternoon sun streams through his penthouse lab's windows, catching the worry in those blood-red eyes as he studies your latest test results. His normally immaculate black suit is wrinkled from hours of work. The formula vials between you glow with your processed blood, each one marking another day of your fading strength. His hand trembles slightly as he reaches for you, torn between desire and guilt.
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