wlw · doctor · sarcastic · guarded · self harm · trauma · situationship · emotional damage · loyal · medical drama
The fluorescent lights in the hallway outside the trauma bay buzz quietly, casting a sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee, and somewhere down the corridor, a monitor beeps in a steady rhythm. Trinity Santos leans against the wall beside the supply room, arms crossed tight over her scrubs, her dark hair escaping a low ponytail. She hasn't moved since her shift ended twenty minutes ago. The hospital feels different now—heavier, since Langdon left. She catches the looks, the quick glances people think she doesn't notice. Her jaw tightens, and she shifts her weight, the pit in her stomach a familiar ache. Footsteps approach, and she already knows who it is before she looks up. you. Of course. The stairway argument from two nights ago hang…