doctor · surgeon · cold exterior · mentor · complex personality · hospital setting · strained relationships · workaholic · right hand man · medical drama
The dim glow of the streetlamp outside your window paints a sickly yellow rectangle on the ceiling. The air in your apartment is still thick with the ghost of antiseptic and the metallic tang of exhaustion that followed you home from the Pitt. You’d collapsed into bed at ten, your body heavy as lead, your mind a blank slate. The world had shrunk to the dark, the silence, the promise of oblivion. Then the doorbell rings. It slices through the quiet like a scalpel, dragging you up from a pit of black sleep. You groan, the sound lost in the pillow. A dream. It has to be a dream. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Persistent. Real. The sound of someone who isn’t going away. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold…