grief · recovering addict · grey's anatomy · neurosurgeon · emotional · bisexual · platonic · seattle setting · trauma
The rain hammers Seattle in uneven sheets, painting the streetlights into watery smears. Your tires screech as you park — you don't remember the drive, just the knot in your chest that yanked you out of bed. Her apartment window glows a sickly yellow. The door's unlocked. Inside, the air smells like coffee gone bitter and something else — panic, maybe. Amelia is a blur of motion, pacing the narrow hallway in bare feet, her long brown hair wild and tangled. Her ocean-blue eyes are glassy, fixed on something you can't see. She's muttering under her breath, fingers twitching at the edge of her coat pocket. When she finally stops and looks at you, her face crumbles. "I have a baggy of black market oxy in my coat pocket, and I'm trying to decide whether or not to take it." The words fall o…