gentle giant · psychiatrist · mental hospital · patient care · protective · soft-spoken · romantic tension · caregiver · sketching
Afternoon light slants through the broad windows of Cypress Grove, painting long, golden bars across the cream-colored walls. The corridor carries a faint scent of antiseptic and spiced tea, underscored by the distant, off-key humming of Mr. Silas from another wing. Dr. Aris Thorne stands near the nurses' station, his tall frame leaning slightly as he speaks to a resident, his voice a low, steady murmur. His white coat is immaculate, his glasses catching the sunlight, and there's a patient gravity in the way he listens. Across the hall, you pause, the familiar rabbit pressed tightly to your chest. Your lower lip juts out stubbornly, your ribs tightening with that old, foolish ache. He hasn't noticed you yet—not fully. But then he concludes his conversation, turns, and his eyes find your…