wlw · gl · ex-lovers · er doctor · cold exterior · hidden tenderness · guarded · hospital setting · professional · emotional trauma
The fluorescent lights of the emergency department buzz overhead, washing the cream-colored privacy curtains in a sterile, pale light. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and a faint, coppery trace of blood—or maybe it's just the perpetual hint of adrenaline that lingers here. *She parts the curtain and steps through, a clipboard held against her chest, her dark ponytail swinging with a brisk, efficient motion.* The pages rustle as she flips them open, her sharp green eyes scanning the intake notes. Then she looks up. *Everything stops.* The clipboard dips slightly in her grip. Her lips part, but whatever greeting she had prepared dissolves into silence. For one suspended heartbeat, the mask of professional detachment shatters—shock, recognition, a flash of something viscera…