Female, 20

You and Brandon had been colleagues for almost three years.

The first time you met him, you couldn't stand him, he was arrogant, blunt, and somehow always looked like he hadn't smiled in years. You even joked to Dana that maybe he didn't have any teeth.

Somehow, though, the two of you had found your way to each other.

Three years later, you were inseparable at work. The person you vented to after a terrible shift. The one who always brought you coffee before morning rounds. The one who knew exactly when you needed a joke and when you needed silence.

Neither of you ever questioned it.

At least... you didn't.

Brandon certainly didn't.

She's just my co-worker.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

That's what he kept telling himself every single day.

Because admitting anything else would've complicated everything.

Or so he thought.

―――――――――――――――――――――

Another day.

Another shift.

A new resident was starting today.

Nooo.

As you pushed open the door to your shared office, you found Brandon exactly where you expected him to be.

Already working.

And, as always, there was a cup of coffee waiting on your desk.

"You know," you said as you picked it up, "one day I'm actually going to beat you here."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"How was your weekend?"

"Boring," you admitted. "I didn't do anything. I basically lived on my couch and watched TV."

Brandon looked up from the chart in front of him.

"Sounds nice."

"You?"

He sighed.

"What happened?"

"Three trauma patients came in after a car accident outside Pittsburgh yesterday. We spent more than half the day in the OR- "

Before he could continue, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in," you called.

The door slowly opened.

A young man stepped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder.

He looked to be in his mid-twenties, tall, with dark hair, warm brown eyes, and the kind of awkward smile that usually belonged to nervous first-year residents.

"Uh... hi, I'm the new resident. I'm looking for Dr. Y/L/N?"

"That would be me."

You stood up from your chair and smiled, extending your hand.

"Nice to meet you."

His face immediately lit up.

"Oh, thank God. Lucky me."

You blinked.

"...Lucky you?"

"I've heard you're one of the nicest attendings here."

You laughed it off.

But behind you, Brandon remained completely silent. His eyes stayed on the chart in front of him. At least, that was what it looked like.

The resident adjusted the strap of his backpack.

"So... where should I leave my things?"

"You can leave them here for now," you said. "Next time, just use the lockers. Someone from the nursing staff will show you where they are."

"Perfect. Thank you."

He carefully placed his backpack beside your desk.

"Ready?" you asked.

"As I'll ever be."

You smiled.

"Come on. I'll show you around."

As the two of you walked out of the office together, Brandon didn't look up.

Not until the door clicked shut behind you.

Only then did he glance toward the empty doorway. For a brief second.

―――――――――――――――――――――

Over the following weeks, the new resident settled into the department surprisingly quickly.

He learned everyone's names within days, the nurses, the residents, even most of the paramedics. He asked questions without pretending to know everything, worked hard.

You couldn't deny it. He was good. Which also meant he spent most of his shifts following you around.

"You'll get used to the pace eventually," you said one afternoon as the two of you walked toward Trauma 2.

"I hope so," he laughed. "Right now, I'm just trying not to embarrass myself."

"You'll survive."

"I feel better knowing you're the one teaching me."

You smiled.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

―――――――――――――――――――――

A few weeks later, the two of you were called for a consult  to a patient who had been brought in after a motorcycle accident.

The patient had suffered a fractured femur, but fortunately, there were no signs of major internal bleeding.

You were explaining the CT scans to the resident when the curtain suddenly moved.

Brandon stepped inside.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, surprised.

"They asked me to consult the case."

You frowned.

"Oh... I didn't know."

"It's fine."

He glanced briefly at the patient before looking back at you.

"I'll leave you to it."

Robby, who had been standing near the foot of the bed, raised an eyebrow.

That's... unlike him.

Brandon was usually the last person to give up a consult.

Before he could leave, the resident spoke.

"We can handle it together, can't we?"

Brandon stopped.

You smiled politely.

"Of course. The more opinions, the better."

The resident looked at you with a grin.

"You know... you're actually a really good teacher."

You let out a quiet laugh.

"Thanks."

"You know, I was kind of hoping you'd say yes to dinner, too."

Silence.

For a split second, both you and Brandon wore the exact same expression.

Completely caught off guard.

You blinked.

"Oh...wow."

"I'm sorry," the resident said quickly. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

"No, no, it's okay."

You offered him an apologetic smile.

"I just don't think that's a good idea."

He nodded immediately.

"Right. Yeah... sorry."

"It's okay."

The conversation moved on.

But Brandon stayed unusually quiet for the rest of the consult.

After that, things should have returned to normal.

They didn't.

The resident accepted your answer without making things uncomfortable. He remained respectful, professional, and just as eager to learn as before.

Unfortunately for Brandon...

That somehow made everything worse.

"You always smile this much?" the resident asked one morning while helping you finish discharge paperwork.

"Only when patients aren't trying to kill me."

He laughed.

"That's good."

"Why?"

"I'd hate to miss it."

At the nurses' station, Brandon's pen stopped moving across the chart for just a second.

―――――――――――――――――――――

A few days later...

"I was wondering if maybe after today's shift- “

"She's busy."

The words came so quickly that even Brandon looked surprised he'd said them.

The resident blinked.

"Oh."

You slowly turned toward Brandon.

"...Am I?"

Without missing a beat, he replied,

"You are…now."

He simply picked up another chart and walked away.

You watched him leave before looking back at the resident.

"...I have absolutely no idea what that was."

―――――――――――――――――――――

The shift was finally over.

You slipped your bag over your shoulder before walking out of the office.

"Hey."

You turned around.

Brandon was standing a few feet behind you, car keys dangling from his fingers.

"Need a ride?"

You smiled.

"Thanks, but I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

You adjusted the strap of your bag.

"I'm having dinner."

For the first time that day, Brandon froze.

"...With whom?"

"My mom.”

You couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

"I promised her we'd catch up after work."

He blinked once.

"Oh."

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah... see you."

You walked away, disappearing down the hallway.

Brandon stood there for another moment, staring after you before letting out a quiet breath.

"Relax."

He turned around.

Dana was leaning against the nurses' station, arms crossed, clearly amused.

"You look like someone just told you the world's ending."

"What you're talking about."

She tilted her head.

"You practically interrogated her over dinner."

"I asked just one question."

"Mhm, yeah."

Dana pushed herself off the counter.

"You're impossible."

She started walking away before stopping beside him.

"Oh... and for the record?"

Brandon looked at her.

"You're jealous," she grinned.

"I'm not?"

She laughed.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night Shark."

Dana walked away, leaving Brandon standing there alone.

He looked down at the floor and realised he has a little problem.

Well, what can you say? You're gonna be late. First day at your new job. Great.

But it's not your fault. Your car gave up on you, so you barely made it to the hospital on foot. You changed into your scrubs and headed toward the Emergency Department.

You never thought Emergency medicine would be for you. Psychiatry had always fascinated you, but every time you stood in an operating room during medical school, a part of you wondered if surgery was where you belonged.

Apparently not.

You stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, hoping it was the right one. The doors opened, and the first thing you saw was a tall man, probably in his 50s. He had salt-pepper hair, and the look on his face told you he wasn't in the right mood.

"You are Dr. Y/N Y/L/N?!"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you just say?" he asked.

You looked at him, confused.

"Um... yes, sir?"

"I'm no 'sir' to you. I'm Doctor, and I am your attending."

Oh, fuck.

Great.

He looked down at his watch and sighed.

"You're 23 seconds late."

He shook his head and walked away.

You, on the other hand, stood there totally dumbfounded, trying to process why he was being such an ass. As you watched him walk away, he turned back to you.

"Are you coming?"

You jogged a little to catch up with him and followed him.

As you walked, he showed you around the department with little interest, pointing out the nurses' station, his office, the trauma rooms, and everything else.

You told yourself that maybe he wasn't that bad after all. Maybe he just hated when people were late. I mean, not every attending takes the time to show you around the department, right?

But that excuse for him died faster than you expected.

"You remember all of it?" he asked.

As you were about to answer, he continued.

"Although I don't know why I'm even asking. Some girl like you isn't going to survive in a department like this - nor in any department, for that matter."

You had absolutely no idea what to say.

You just stared at him, with your mouth open like fish.

He smirked.

"Exactly. Just like I thought. Dumb as every other."

What the fuck is this?

"Come with me to my office. I need you to sign some paperwork."

You followed him to his office, wondering what kind of human being could be this rude.

How are you gonna survive this? With this person? No, this can't be true. It's just a bad dream.

But it wasn't.

The office was large, with a big window at the end of the room. The walls were white, and so was all the furniture. There were two desks, one by the window and the other by the door.

At the desk by the door sat a big beefy man with dark brown hair slicked back. As you stepped into the room, he looked up at you and your attending.

"This is Dr. Brandon Park. He's one of our senior residents. You'll be working with him from time to time."

Park looked at you and nodded, and continued with his paperwork.

Another ass, you thought.

What did I just sign up for? Why didn't I choose that damn psychiatry?

Your attending sat down at his desk and pulled out the paperwork. You stood in front of him with your back to Dr. Park.

He handed you the papers and expected you to sign them.

Oh no.

You had forgotten your pen.

It was in your bag. In changing room.

"Um... sorry, Doctor. Can I - can I borrow your pen?" you asked.

He looked at you as if you had asked him for his car.

"Tell me, Doctor... did you earn your place here, or were they just trying to fill a quota?"

Park was uninterested in the conversation between you and his colleague, but that sentence caught his attention.

As he looked up, he didn't see your face, but he saw your attending smiling and shaking his head. As he was about to hand you the pen, before you could even take it, he dropped it onto the desk. The pen fell onto the floor.

You hurried to catch it and pick it up, but it started rolling toward Park.

You took a step and crouched down to pick up the pen. As you stood up, you locked eyes with Park, and he saw the unshed tears in your eyes.

He looked at his colleague, who was sitting in his chair, laughing his heart out at you.

Park wasn't a man of many emotions, but this was a bit too much. Even though he could be mean and cocky toward students, he would never humiliate someone this way, especially a woman.

You turned back to your attending and stepped up to the desk once again. With shaky hands and tears in your eyes, you signed the papers assigning your attending as your supervisor. When you were done, you straightened up, placed the pen on the desk, and thanked the man opposite you for lending it to you.

"Well, don't thank me. We'll see just how long you survive in this department. But I don't think you'll be here for long. Most women don't make it through their first year."

"Especially the ones like you."

And that was the wake-up call for Park.

He rose from his chair, enraged, and walked straight toward you.

You turned to him as he approached, becoming even more frightened. He gently moved you aside before walking over to the other man and yelling at him.

"What the hell did you just say? Who the hell do you think you are?”

"Brandon, just chill. Look at her. She's just some rookie. She doesn't even have half the knowledge we have."

"That, or anything else you just said, doesn't give you any right to humiliate anyone in this department, especially a woman."

"Oh, don't be such a fool, Park. Just because she has nice eyes and a good pair of tits doesn't make her anything special, so chill out."

And that line was the last drop for Park.

He grabbed his colleague and dragged him through the door and across the entire department toward HR.

Everyone was looking at them as the other doctor begged Park to let him go, saying it wasn't such a big deal. But Park was furious. He let go of his so-called colleague, pointing a finger at him.

"If I ever hear that you've said things like that to anyone in this department or anywhere else in this hospital, I guarantee you'll never work here. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," he said quietly.

"What?" Park yelled.

"I said yes."

"Good. Now make your way to HR, tell them exactly what you did, and then come back to apologize to the young doctor you just humiliated."

The man ran faster than anyone in the ER.

When Park snapped back to reality, he realized that absolutely everyone was watching him. Even some patients had come out of their rooms.

Then he looked toward his office.

You were standing there on shaky legs, silently crying while covering your mouth to not make a sound.

He started walking toward you.

The closer he got, the more you backed away.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

As he approached, he held out his hand.

No.

You were not okay.

"Hey, it's going to be okay."

The nurses, the doctors—everyone who knew Park personally—couldn't believe what they had just witnessed.

Brandon led you back to his office and closed the door to avoid the stares of the others.

He sat you down in his chair and brought you a glass of water.

Then he crouched down to your eye level.

There was silence.

You didn't know what to say.

You were shocked.

You were scared.

"I'm so sorry for what happened. I should have done something sooner. I just... I'm sorry." he said.

"No, no. It's not your fault. I-I don't know how to thank you for everything you did. I—"

"Why did even you do that?" you asked suddenly.

He fell silent.

He didn't want to answer.

"My dad... he was almost the same as that idiot. He treated my mum horribly, and there was nothing I could do because I was just a little boy. And I will never, ever let something like that happen here in my department, at this hospital."

You were stunned.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Park—"

"Don't call me Dr. Park. Not after all of this."

He looked you in the eyes and held out his hand for you to shake.

"Brandon," he said with a small smile.