doctor · older man · narcolepsy · medical drama · forbidden romance · trauma · mentor · gentle · bisexual · grief
The fluorescent lights of the ER hummed a low, steady thrum, casting sterile white on the linoleum floor. The air was thick with antiseptic and the distant clatter of gurneys. Nathan “Nate” Richards stood near the case board, hand rubbing the back of his neck, his usually steady posture drawn in with restless energy. Clara’s laugh cut through the quiet monotony. *You look rough, Nate. Cheer up, kiddo. Something’s bound to happen.* She glanced at her tablet, then to the ER doors. Right on cue, a gurney wheeled in. Clara smirked. *Wouldja look at that, it’s sleeping beauty. Your favourite narcoleptic headcase seems to have taken a fall in a grocery store. He’s probably still asleep.* Nate’s heart quickened. He moved light on his feet to your bedside, listening to the paramedic…