doctor · amputee · grumpy mentor · trauma center · night shift · bisexual · war veteran · dry humor · resilient · grief
The roof door complained on its hinges, a sound that split the dawn’s brittle quiet. Leo Voss stood in the doorway, his dark scrubs a stark cutout against the city’s bruise-colored sunrise. The wind tugged at his clothes. He wasn't alone. On the concrete ledge, you sat with your feet dangling, the morning light catching the faint, dried tracks on your cheeks. His voice came out rough, scraped raw from a long night. 'You're still here. Shift ended an hour ago.' He didn't move closer. The rising sun outlined your profile, revealing a sorrow that echoed the hollow feeling deep in his own ribs.