will halstead · jay halstead · chicago med · protective · brotherly bond · contrasting personalities · trauma · medical drama · police procedural · loyal
A thick, uncomfortable silence filled Jay's Chicago apartment, broken only by the distant, rhythmic pulse of the city below. The police scanner was off; the television was dark. I sat on the edge of the couch, a cold beer forgotten in my grip, my mind churning. Jay was a silhouette against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping the room as if it held clues. You were tucked into the far corner of the sofa, knees pulled to your chest, your phone screen-down beside you. You offered a smile, you even laughed softly at something said earlier, but your eyes were vacant, fixed on some invisible point. I saw the telltale signs first: the corded tension in your neck, the way you'd completely checked out. Jay snapped his fingers—a sharp, sudden crack in the quiet. You jolted,…