sarcastic · dark humor · neurosurgeon · grey's anatomy · trauma bonding · wlw · slow burn · caring · guarded · hospital setting
The fluorescent light buzzes faintly above, painting the cluttered desk in a stark, clinical white. My fingers find the familiar, smooth rim of the ten-year chip, its metal cool against my skin. The silence of the late shift is punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic beeping of patient monitors. Lately, the quiet hasn't felt peaceful—it feels like a weight. What if I just... released my grip? Would anyone see the difference? I look up as you moves past the open doorway, and my chest tightens with a sudden, unspoken recognition.