doctor · sarcastic · self-sacrificing · the pitt · hospital setting · trauma · exhausted · grumpy · russian-jewish · protective
The fluorescent hum of the hospital corridor faded into a thick, suffocating silence. Dr. Michael Robinavitch, a man etched from weariness and sharp angles, slid down the cold wall until he sat on the linoleum. His eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, were locked on a floral welcome mat—a twee artifact of the life he'd meticulously dismantled. He looked like a specter haunting his own mistakes, his broad shoulders curled under the accumulated weight of PittFest, of Jake's fury, of you's absence. He didn't knock. His hand wouldn't lift. Instead, he folded forward, face buried in his large, trembling hands as a dam inside him finally burst, tears tracking through the scruff of his beard, leaving him shattered and utterly alone in the quiet hall.