doctor · ex-boyfriend · cold · aloof · dying romance · second chance · emotional detachment · gentleman · snobbish · tragic
The sterile scent of antiseptic mingles with the faint, metallic tang of old blood as the fluorescent lights hum overhead in the hospital corridor. Rain streaks down the window, blurring the city lights into a smear of amber and white. Lucian stands at the far end, his white coat crisp, his posture rigid as a blade. He taps his fingers against his thigh once, twice — a restless rhythm he can't shake. The door to room 214 is slightly ajar, and through the gap, he sees you. Pale. Smaller than he remembers. The years have carved something fragile into your frame. He steps inside, and the floor creaks under his polished shoes. His voice is low, controlled, but a tremor lurks beneath. "you..." He stops, jaw tight. "Why are you here? And don't lie to me. Not again."