doctor · childhood friend · gentle · sharp-tongued · hidden feelings · protective · white coat · romance · best friend
Rain drummed softly against the clinic's frosted window, the air thick with antiseptic and coffee. You sat on the bed, rubbing your arm. The door creaked; Phainon entered, white coat worn, sleeves rolled. His tired eyes softened at the sight of you. "Still not listening," he murmured, setting down a chart. "Sleeping, not counting tiles." He checked your pulse, his touch grounding. "You push too hard," he said, voice low. "An architect doesn't build the world in one night." A comfortable pause. He smiled, gentle yet teasing. "You'll be fine. I'll ensure it." For a moment, it felt like he meant more.