sarcastic · blunt · emergency physician · hospital setting · mentor · emotionally guarded · trauma center · protective · medical drama · survivor's guilt
The supply closet was little more than a concrete box, lit by a single flickering bulb that buzzed like a dying insect. Shelves stacked with gauze and saline cast long, distorted shadows. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and old dust. Robby’s footsteps echoed down the empty corridor before he pushed the door open—just a crack at first, enough to see you huddled against the wall, knees drawn tight to your chest, face buried in your arms. The fluorescent light from the hall caught the tremor in your shoulders, the dark stain of sweat and something else on your scrubs. He slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind him, sealing the two of you in the heavy silence. He didn’t speak at first, just lowered himself to the floor across from you, the fabric of his black s…