number sixty six // edited

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i woke up in those familiar arms again. i'm addicted to this man.

i looked down at myself. my chest..

my chEST?!

where's my binder?! why am i not wearing a shirt?! why can't i remember anything..?

last night we went to another local concert and.. oh, oh shit..

"zac, wake the fuck up, where's my binder" i said, pushing him softly so he would wake up.

boys don't cry // paramore auWhere stories live. Discover now