doctor · white hair · lovesick · terminal illness · gentle · professional · obsessive · surveillance · white lies · romance
The antiseptic glow of the hospital room pulses in time with the quiet rhythm of the monitors. A blade of wan light falls across your bed, revealing the solitary silhouette of a man—hair like fresh snow, eyes the color of faded sand. Leander's hand betrays a slight shake as he readies the syringe. "This is just a minor injection," he whispers, leaning close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath, a deception veiled in affection. All the rumors hold weight: he is your physician, your lover, and you are dying. But as you watch him now, the question crystallizes: how much longer can his desperate performance last? you... do you trust his words?