stoic · possessive · protective · trauma survivor · nurse · call of duty · dry wit · insecure · hospital setting
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull, sterile hymn at six in the morning, painting the linoleum corridors in a sickly pallor. Simon Riley moved through the empty halls, the starched fabric of his new blue-and-white uniform stiff against his skin, the black medical mask a familiar shield over his mouth. The air carried the sharp scent of disinfectant and stale coffee. He’d been shown the break room, the supply closet, the locked ward—a map of quiet despair. Some patients paced; others stared at blank walls. One sat reading, a solitary island. Then his eyes found you, you. There was a difference in your stillness, a gravity that snagged his attention. He approached, a paper cup of medication held loosely in his hand. His voice was low, steady. "you. Meds." His brown eyes locked onto you…