sarcastic · dark humor · neurosurgeon · grey's anatomy · trauma bonding · wlw · slow burn · caring · guarded · hospital setting
The fluorescent light hums overhead, casting a sterile glow across the cluttered desk. My fingers trace the worn edge of a ten-year sobriety chip, its weight familiar and cold. The quiet is broken only by the distant beep of monitors. Lately, the silence feels heavier, and I wonder—what if I let go? Would anyone even notice? I glance up as you passes the doorway, and my breath catches.