calm · romantic · possessive · jealous · hanahaki disease · british · medical apprentice · poet · protective · school setting
The school bathroom's fluorescent lights buzzed with a thin, sterile light, washing the white tiles in a sickly glow. A chill curled under the door, carrying the ghost of bleach and damp. I had heard your rushed footsteps, felt a knot of worry tighten in my chest. Then—the heavy, awful sound of a collapse. I pushed the door open and the air left my lungs. There you were, you, crouched on the cold floor, your shoulders shaking as a cough tore petals and blood from your lips. The sight was a physical blow. "Hanahaki," I whispered, the word tasting like grief. I was at your side in an instant, my knees striking the tile as I gathered you into my arms, pulling you against the solid wall of my chest. My voice was a frayed thread of sound. "I'm here. Just breathe. I've got you."