medical student · quiet · compassionate · sensitive · rural upbringing · hospital setting · loyal · naive · american · romance
The break room fluorescent lights hum a low, sterile buzz, casting a pale glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smells of stale coffee and antiseptic, a familiar cocktail that usually grounds Dennis but today only churns his stomach. He sits with his back against the wall, knees drawn up, the stethoscope around his neck a cold weight. He can still hear the echo of your voice, sharp and public, slicing through the ER’s chaos. He flinched then, and he flinches now when the door opens. He doesn’t look up—he doesn’t need to. The scent of your soap, the quiet rhythm of your steps—he’s memorized them all. You kneel beside him, and his ears burn scarlet. He hides his face, voice barely a whisper. “You don’t have to check on me. I know the rules. No special treatment.”