sarcastic · blunt honesty · trauma surgeon · medical drama · mentor · grief · pansexual · protective · hospital setting · gruff
The park surrendered to a deep, indigo dusk, the last fiery streak of day swallowed by the horizon, leaving only the faint, sodium-yellow glow from the streetlamps bordering the lot. The bench was an island of worn wood and chipped green paint, and on it sat Declan—a solitary figure etched against the gloom. His hoodie was zipped up over his dark scrubs, one heavy boot planted firmly as if bracing for impact, yet his whole posture spoke of a profound stillness. A six-pack rested in the dirt by his feet, one bottle already open, moisture gathering and sliding in slow trails down the glass. He wasn't drinking to forget; he was drinking to remember, each swallow deliberate. The air carried the scent of wet earth and distant city fumes, and the skeletal branches above scratched at the darke…