You had foolishly thought that his absence was something that you would grow used to. That every time he left for a mission, it would get easier to handle, that the fear that held you with a white-knuckle grip would ease, would lessen to something more manageable. But you had not grown used to it. The anxiety almost seemed to get worse every time. 

You sighed, trying to shake the anxious feeling. He’s fine. 

You wandered back inside and into Azriel’s room, slipping one of his oversized sweaters on, and you sighed at the warmth. His scent–the scent of home–engulfed you, and a very small part of you grew calmer. It felt like you had a small part of him close to you. His scent alone helped your racing thoughts slow, even just a little. 

Fuck, you missed him. You missed waking up next to Azriel, the warmth of him in bed, and his swirling shadows cooling your skin. You missed his massive wings cocooning the two of you in your own little world. You had been mated for only a year, and the quiet isolation of the last few months in Velaris had been paradise. The only downside was when Azriel would have to leave, your giggles and whispers and moans stifled into lonely silence every night he was away. You wished Feyre or Nesta were staying with you, if only to have someone to share the anxiety with. Someone who understood your fears. 

Your stomach growled a few hours later, reminding you that worrying and loitering in Azriel’s room all day would not make him return faster. You had been pacing for the last hour, and wouldn’t be surprised if there was a path burned in a straight line from where you repeated your steps over and over again. They should’ve been back by now. 

You stepped out into the hallway and made your way slowly through the home, towards the kitchens. A glance at the darkening sky through the window made you frown. They should’ve been back already, but there was no sign of any of them making their return from the Illyrian Mountains. 

You ate absentmindedly, not even registering what you were eating, and made your way to the sitting room near the entrance of the home, a book in hand. Azriel had recently recommended the novel after finishing it. You were excited to read it, along with the annotations that he had surely left on the margins just for you. The thought of your small tradition made you smile, and you settled in, knowing it would be a long, restless night. 

You opened the front page, and the doors burst open, slamming against the wall and forcibly bouncing back. 

You startled, standing quickly as the book fell off your lap and tumbled to the floor. Rhysand burst into the room, the rage pulsating off him in palpable waves, dark tendrils of his power roaming around him. His cheeks were tinged red, and it spread down his neck. His hands were clenched tightly into fists, the skin of his knuckles pulled taut and paling. 

He was angry. No, more than angry. Fury coated every inch of him, and your thoughts immediately jumped to Azriel. Where was he? 

“Rhys! What’s wrong?”

His furious eyes snapped to you. “Fuckers,” he growled. 

“Rhys, what happened? Where’s Azriel?”

He huffed out a sigh, and it seemed like he hadn’t even registered your question. “I don’t know what else I can do,” he said, a hand raising to pinch the bridge of his nose. He paused, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “We found more females.”

He didn’t need to elaborate further. The clipping of Illyrian females’ wings was a persistent issue, with seemingly no progress made despite the years of effort put in by your mate and his brothers. Your heart sank. 

You knew Azriel would not take it well. He took it as a personal slight, an abomination done by his own race against their own people. He felt a protectiveness and obligation to the females in those camps, and you knew how much he hated leaving the war camps each time, leaving behind every female, and knowing that despite decades of attempts, their fates had already been sealed in the eyes of the Illyrians. All because they were females. 

“Where is he?”

Rhysand seemed to momentarily forget his anger and his violet gaze met yours. His expression softened. “He winnowed into your room.”

You nodded, mind already slipping to him, and you tugged gently on the thread between the two of you. 

You looked Rhysand’s exhausted face and took a step towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Go home, Rhys. Feyre must be worried about you.”

He looked at you, exhaustion and something akin to gratefulness in his eyes, before he nodded. 

“He needs you,” he said quietly before winnowing away. 

Everything else that was not Azriel faded from your mind as your quick steps took you up a flight of stairs and into the long hallway. There had been no answering tug on the bond, and your heart sank into your stomach, like a rock being thrown into a lake. You stopped at your door, taking a deep breath before opening it. 

You stopped short and took in the lone figure of the male before you. His shoulders were slumped, his hair messy. His wings drooped down, the bottom edges skimming along the floor, and his shadows swirled at his legs and feet, sluggish and lethargic. 

He had probably heard you come in, and his shadows surely knew it was you, but he didn’t make a move to turn and face you. It had been a difficult mission, indeed.  You stepped up slowly behind him, hands raising and hesitating for only a moment, before you laid them gently on his tensed shoulders. He didn’t flinch away, just took a shuddering breath. You stepped closer, burrowing your face in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades and wings. 

You inhaled deeply, his scent of mist and cedar invading your senses, and the bond was sated enough by just having him there with you. He was here. He was safe. And although he might not be alright right now, a part of you was selfishly grateful to the Mother that he came back to you. 

It was a few minutes in silence and stillness before he raised a scarred hand and interlocked it with the one resting on his shoulder. His broad hand engulfed yours, and he squeezed softly. You didn’t say a word, knowing that he needed the silence, the space to think. He wasn’t someone who could be pushed into talking; you had learned that the hard way. So you gave him his time. You remained there, standing behind him, holding him close, letting him hear your breathing, feel your heartbeat as you pressed your body against his back. 

It was a long time before he finally made to turn around, prompting you to unwind your arms from around him. His face came into view, devastatingly handsome, and his hazel eyes shone with tears that he was trying to hold back. 

He forced a smile on his face, but it was sad and almost pathetic. It was practically a grimace. Your heart shattered in your chest at the sadness, the desperate anguish leaking from him. 

“I’ll kill them,” you said. It was impossible. You could not take on every Illyrian male; you both knew that, but the sentiment was very serious. You would if you could. 

He huffed out a laugh, the sound breathless, but it made the tightness in your chest loosen. 

“You can barely land a punch on me during training, love,” he said, voice low and gravelly. 

“I pull my punches,” you said. “I would never want to hurt that gorgeous face.”

He chuckled, and you lifted your hand to cup his sharp jaw, thumb running over his cheekbone. 

“I would if I could,” you said. He gave you a look–one that said that he would do the same. “I know Rhys is doing what he can, but I wish we could do more. Save more of them.”

He didn’t say anything, probably feeling as helpless as you did. His hands grasped your waist, pulling you in closer, and he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. You would have normally teased him for such a brazen display of male possessiveness, but you didn’t this time. You had no idea what he had seen in those camps, but you could guess the horrors those females went through. If he needed to hold you close and sniff you a little to reassure himself that you were here, safe with him, you’d let him. You’d let him do anything he needed. 

He leaned his face up, nose nuzzling against your jaw, and he pressed a kiss there. He moved up, pressing another one to your cheek, and gently made his way to your lips. It was a soft kiss, reassuring, but deep, and it made your chest tighten and your head light, like it was floating. It was a kiss of love and comfort, and you could taste the gratitude in it. He didn’t let go of you for the rest of the night. 

“I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love.”

The first time you had awakened at Azriel’s side, you thought your heart could have combusted from your chest. You knew the male for a while, having lived in Velaris for most of your life, and a deep friendship had blossomed between the two of you over the prior year. You knew he was kind, loyal, and pretty. By the Cauldron, he was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. 

So when the bond snapped, you had genuinely felt blessed. It took a few weeks for you to accept the bond; you had wanted to get to know him on a more intimate level, although if Azriel had his way, he would have had the mating ceremony right then and there in the streets of Velaris. 

But you had wanted to take your time, so the first time you awakened next to him, after finally accepting the mating bond, the frenzy dulled at least for a brief moment, you thought you would die from happiness. And every time since then had made you feel the same way. Your mornings with him were sacred to you. You fell asleep with the anticipation of seeing him in bed with you when dawn approached. 

Mornings with him were peaceful. He always woke up before you, no matter how hard you tried to beat him. Most mornings, when he would drag you to early training, he would rouse you from sleep with gentle strokes against your jaw and temple or soft kisses to your cheeks and lips. 

Your favorite mornings, though, were the ones when he would let you sleep in, content to bask in your warmth and the comfort of your enormous bed. And when you finally awakened, his smile would shine bright, the hazel of his eyes catching in the morning light, a dazzling display of browns, golds, and greens. He’d tell you about what life was like with Rhys and Cassian when they were all younger, how boisterous and unruly and untamed the three of them had been in their youth, and you would giggle along to whatever wild story he shared with you. 

But peace didn’t last forever. 

Azriel had been alive for over five hundred years, and a lot of that time had been pleasant and fun, but a lot of it had not. Nightmares still haunted him, tendrils of horrors deeply buried in his subconscious. They lay mostly dormant, but now and then, when he was particularly on edge, they reared their ugly, unrelenting heads. He would awaken, screams rousing both of you from your slumbers, and his throat would feel raw from the guttural sounds. 

The first time it happened was a few months after your mating ceremony. The two of you had spent three months drunk off the mating frenzy, and the months that followed were so blissfully happy that you had both let your guards down. 

You hadn’t known it at the time, but there had been trouble brewing in Hewn City, a captured spy sitting in the dark dungeons and your lover tasked with dealing with him. Azriel never resented Rhysand for the things he was tasked to do. He knew that his job was essential for the safety of the Night Court, for the safety of his family, for your safety. So he did what he needed to do without complaint and you had never really given it a second thought, but after that night, you knew better. 

You fell asleep in his arms, naked bodies pressed tightly against each other, and you relished in his warmth. After a very thorough fucking session, you were completely wiped out, and you both fell asleep quickly. 

Your eyes snapped open. It was dark outside, the night sky still littered with glowing stars, and the chilly night air gently blew the curtains on your balcony. The wards kept out the cold, and you briefly wondered what woke you up. A moan from beside you made your lips twitch in amusement. Azriel. 

Was he having a sex dream? You breathed out a low giggle, turning over to face him, but the small smirk dropped from your face almost immediately. His skin was clammy and sweaty. His eyebrows were furrowed and breathing jagged as he moaned again, and you instantly knew that it was not one of pleasure, but of pain. 

You sat up in concern, a hand coming up to rest on his tattooed chest.  

“Azriel?”

He groaned, squirming in place, and his shadows swirled around him, gently wrapping around your wrists and pulling you closer. You could not hear them, not the way he could, but you knew exactly what they wanted from you. They were asking you to comfort him, to help him. 

You gently shook his shoulder. “Azriel. Please wake up.”

“No,” he mumbled out, still asleep.

You shook his shoulder harder, and that time, his eyes snapped open. He moved in a blur, faster than you had ever seen him move before, and pinned you down to the bed, a hand wrapping around both of your wrists almost painfully. Truth-Teller was in his other hand, the sharp edge held against the delicate skin of your neck. You hadn’t even seen him move to grab the dagger. 

You froze, afraid that any slight movement might dig the edge of the dagger into your skin and cut flesh. His shadows swirled around his ears, and you tugged at the golden thread between the two of you. His eyes cleared and then widened. He moved away from you, dropping Truth-Teller to the hardwood floors, and he sat back in his haunches, face frozen in shock. 

He mumbled your name as you sat up. 

“Azriel,” you said, moving slowly towards him, extending your hand to gently lay on his shaking arm. 

He continued to stare at you for a few moments, his breathing harsh, and then the tears came. He let out a choked sob, his scarred hands shaking violently as he brought them up to cover his face. The fear in your chest was not due to having a knife at your throat mere minutes before, but at the state of your mate. 

You moved to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his head to rest on your chest. He sobbed harder, mumbling out a choked apology. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and he stayed there for what seemed like hours before he was able to calm his tears, his breathing, and finally speak to you.  

After that night, you knew how heavy everything weighed on his shoulders. How he would still see the faces of the people that he had to torture and kill, no matter how many times he told himself that it had to be done. You knew the guilt he carried. The trauma he still had from his childhood. You knew all of it, felt all of it through the bond that he had tried to shield from you, but you didn’t let him. You wanted to feel him, all of him.

Azriel never resented Rhys for what he had to do, but a small part of you did. You never said it, but every time Azriel would wake up in a pool of his own sweat, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and his chest rising and falling erratically, a small spark of indignation would flicker in your heart for him. 

The tears seemed endless during those nights. Whether it was the guilt gripping Azriel tightly around the neck as he was forced to look into the eyes of every life he had taken and watch the life drain out of them, or the vivid and tactile feeling of the fire engulfing his hands, so real that his wails of pain brought tears to your eyes every time. Those sounds haunted you. The sobs and screams, broken and long-lasting. 

His name was a prayer on your tongue, a repeating sound, although you knew it would be hours before any words tore through the iron walls surrounding his mind. You would hold him, arms sliding across his back, tightening around him, and bring him closer to you until you cradled his head on your chest. Your fingers threaded through his dark, damp, and sweaty hair, and you would slowly rock him. Sometimes, he would mutter choked, slurred words that sounded like apologies, and tears would sometimes escape from your traitorous eyes, though you tried to never let him see that. You would tug on the bond, a soft and gentle reassurance that you were there, that you would always be there, and that you accepted him no matter what. No matter what he had done or had been through in his past. You accepted every part of him, and you loved him. 

When the nightmares finally ebbed away and left the love of your life a shell of a male, empty and sad, you would dry the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs and wipe the snot away with the hem of your shirt and smile softly at him. Sometimes he would fall asleep soon after, exhaustion weighing heavily on him, and you held him tightly against you, unable to fall back asleep, until dawn began to break. Other times, you would draw him a bath, sliding in behind him, and you would hold him, and wash him, and bring him any comfort you could. 

It was usually hours before he returned to you, but you waited patiently for him every time. He would never talk about it the same night. He would often open up the following morning, or the following night, or if the nightmare, the memory, was especially egregious, he would spare you the details and not speak about it at all. But you didn’t mind. 

You would never stop comforting him, offering him your unyielding love and support. You would hold him for as long as you could, as long as it took for the terrors to leave him and he’d be yours again. 

“No doubt in my mind where you belong.”

Rita was full that night, teeming with people from all walks of life. You sat in a booth, separate enough from the inebriated crowd, but near enough that you felt close to the action and could see your friends dancing in the crowd. Emorie had dragged Nesta and Gwyn to the dance floor. The water nymph had looked uncomfortable when she first got there, but after two drinks, she had let loose enough to have fun. You were happy for her; she deserved to have some fun. 

Feyre and Rhysand sat at the other end of the booth, huddled close together and staring so intently at each other that you would have found it a little creepy if you didn’t know they could communicate mind to mind. 

Azriel shifted from beside you, his watchful eyes scanning the crowd and assessing the environment. He knew how to have fun, but there was always a part of his brain–the Spymaster part–that never really seemed to turn off. You slid your hand into his, squeezing it tightly. 

He looked at you, and his lips twitched up in a soft smile. 

“I think Cassian wants you to go dance with him,” you teased, and you both glanced over to his brother standing in the crowd. He was waving towards the table, and when he noticed Azriel’s eyes on him, he gestured for him to join. He hovered near Nesta, who had pointedly ignored him when he tried to dance with her and continued dancing with Emorie and Gwyn. The other patrons gave him a wide berth, not that he noticed, or seemed to care. His dance moves were awkward and haphazard, and you noticed at least three separate people dodging to avoid an elbow or wing to the face. 

“No.”

You laughed, grabbing your drink from in front of you and downing the rest of it. 

“Oh, come on. You should go have fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “Love, there is a reason Nesta refuses to go near him when he’s dancing. It’s not only embarrassing but dangerous.”

You both watched as Cassian’s wings flared out, the edge of one hitting a male on the back of the head. You both snickered with each other. 

“Well, one of us should have fun,” you said, standing up from beside him. He pouted at you, his perfect bottom lip jutting out, and you leaned down to give a teasing lick to the flesh. He growled lowly in his throat, and you giggled, stepping quickly away from him as he tried to grab your hips. 

“I’ll get you for that,” he rasped out as you walked backwards from him. 

“I’m counting on it, Shadowsinger,” you smirked, turning away and making your way to your friends on the dance floor. 

You maneuvered through the crowd, narrowly avoiding writhing bodies and Cassian’s hand trying to grip your arm. You squeezed through, finally reaching the girls and smiled at Gwyn as she twirled around. 

“Your mate is a menace,” you said to Nesta and she rolled her eyes. “I think he’s injured like five people."

“I don’t know that male.” You all laughed, the warmth from the dancing bodies surrounding you, and the alcohol making the room hazy. You began moving, your body thrumming with the beat of the music, and you felt Azriel’s heavy gaze on you and you let out a low giggle. These were some of your favorite nights spent having fun with friends. 

Hands gripped your hips from behind, and you froze. You didn’t know those hands. Azriel’s grip was familiar to you: the size of his hands, the swirls of silky shadows that would slither over your wrists, the pressure was always perfect. But the hands that gripped you now were wrong. 

You stepped away and turned quickly, before stiffening at who stood before you. 

Alric. 

Your ex-boyfriend, Alric, who you had dated for months before leaving him when you caught him with another female. Oh, Cauldron boil you. You had avoided the male for close to a year before meeting Azriel and he had not crossed your mind since. And now he showed up? 

Nesta and Gwyn stepped in close behind you, ready to help you in whatever you needed and you sent a prayer of thanks to the Mother for blessing you with friends like them. 

Alric smiled widely at you, his eyes hazy. 

“Long time no see,” he breathed out, and the reek of alcohol and mirthroot swirled around you. You fought the urge to gag.

Nesta stepped in from behind you, standing firmly at your side, and glared at the man in that frightening way she had. You were surprised he barely reacted. From somewhere behind her, you saw Cassian’s attention fixed on your group, his wide smile now gone. You shot a quick glance at the group’s table a level above, finding Azriel gone. The tug in your chest gave you an indication of just where he was heading. 

“Do we know you?” Nesta asked, her voice icy. 

“What? She didn’t tell you about me?” he slurred back. 

You felt his presence before he even appeared there. There–those hands were right. They were the only ones you ever wanted to touch you. Warm, and rough, and his. Azriel.

“Is there a problem?” His voice was low and dangerous, and it sent shivers down your spine. 

“Aw, moved on already?” Gods above, this male really didn’t know how to read the room, not an ounce of self-preservation. Azriel was rigid beside you, and the anger emanated from him in waves.

“What happened?” Alric continued. “We were so good together. I thought we really loved each other, had a future together.”

Your voice finally seemed to return to you then. 

“Could have fooled me when I found that female in my bed,” you said, measuring your words. The anger simmered beneath your skin and you fought the urge to punch him in the face. Azriel’s hand tightened slightly at your hip, in comfort and reassurance.  “That’s all in the past, Alric. You should leave me alone now.”

“You told me you wanted to marry me.” The male almost pouted and heat rushed up your neck and pointed ears. Embarrassment flooded you because you had said it, but you knew better now. It was the naivety of a girl being in love for the first time. Of someone who didn’t know there was better out there. But now you did know. A quick cursory glance showed no judgement from your friends, just annoyance at the audacity of the male. 

“My mate said she wanted you to leave.”

Alric looked at Azriel then, eyes widening slightly before looking back at you and letting out an incredulous laugh. “Holy shit. You have a mate?”

Azriel bristled from beside you, not liking his teasing, mocking tone one bit. He looked the Fae male up and down, knowing he could easily take him in a fight. There would be no doubt. He took a step forward, wings widening and shadows swirling, and he towered over Alric. And at the first glimpse of those shadows and the look of pure wrath on Azriel’s face, it seemed that sense finally returned to the male and he realized just who was standing in front of him. 

“Holy shit, you’re the Shadowsinger.”

Azriel didn’t respond, only raised an eyebrow. 

Alric gulped, taking a step back. He risked one last glance at you, and raised his hands in surrender. 

“I don’t want any trouble.” He nodded at you, eyes troubled and you said nothing as you glared at him. He looked at the people around you–your favorite people, your family–and made the smart choice for once, turning his back and walking away. 

You huffed out a breath of relief, turning towards Azriel and burrowing your face in his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against the warmth of his chest. 

You broke away glancing around towards your friends. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you mumbled, clearly embarrassed. 

Cassian chuckled. “It was getting boring around here. Now we get to tell Mor and Amren about how Azriel scared the shit out of that asshole!”

You chuckled at Cassian's easy smile, and he winked at you. You smiled back at him, grateful for your friend and his incredible talent of diffusing uncomfortable situations. 

“You’re okay?” Nesta asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, but I think I want to head home now.”

She nodded, giving you a quick goodbye hug, and Azriel ushered you towards the exit. The air outside was brisk and chilly, but it felt good against your overheated skin. Azriel pulled you into his arms, carrying you tightly against him before launching into the night sky. He didn’t say anything as he flew you home, but the soft tug on the bond comforted you as you laid in his arms, face burrowed in the crook of neck as he glided gently home. 

You landed on your balcony, making your way inside and you sighed. You looked back at Azriel, who trailed behind you into your room and smiled at him. 

“Thank you for tonight. For defending me.”

He walked up to you, pulling you close by the waist. “You’re mine,” he whispered. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Always. Did Alric make you think I’m not?”

He rolled his eyes. “Seeing him touch you, finally seeing the male that broke your heart…Fuck, I wanted to kill him.”

You scoffed, raising a brow. “Jealous?” You were teasing him, but he remained serious. 

“I didn't like the way he was looking at you. Or spoke to you…” He paused, and you remained silent, sensing that there was more that he wanted to say. He sighed, his hands tightening around your waist before he continued. 

“I hate thinking about the fact that you were with other people before me. The idea that you wanted to marry someone else that’s not me. And I know that we didn’t know each other then, and it’s unfair and ridiculous for me to feel this way but it makes me think about you not being with me. It makes me think about the fact that maybe you shouldn’t be with me.”

His eyes shut tightly, and his voice strained to get the words out. You reeled back, shock and sadness coursing through you. 

“What?”

He stayed silent for a moment and you pulled at that golden string that bound your souls together. One of his hands raised to his chest, rubbing the skin above his heart and you gave a harsher tug. He opened his eyes and this close, the greens and golds in his eyes shimmered behind unshed tears. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice coarse and tight. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

“And you think Alric is who deserves me?” It was a rhetorical question, but confusion laced the words. What had brought this on? You had imagined the night going much differently; you imagined his jealousy turning possessive and passionate, not…this. 

“No!” he said emphatically and you would have chuckled at his indignation at the mere thought, if you weren’t concerned for him. “You deserve so much better than that asshole. You deserve the world. You deserve better than me.”

Your hand settled at the nape of his neck and you pulled him down towards you until you could press a deep, reassuring kiss to his lips. 

He whispered your name, but you continued, unwilling to let him think so lowly of himself. You would not allow him to do so. Not this male, your mate, the one being you loved more than anyone or anything else.

“Azriel, no one deserves me more than you do. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. And my choice will always be you. There’s only one place I belong and it’s with you. And you with me. Nothing and no one will ever change that. You're my soulmate. You are my perfect match, Az, I was made for you and you for me.”

He took a deep breath at your words and smiled. It was a genuine grin, wide and beautiful. You loved this smile, the one that seemed to be reserved for only you. His hands lowered to your hips, and the silky tendrils of shadows swirled up your legs and arms, tickling your sensitive skin. He pressed another long kiss on your lips, and you reveled at the taste of him, the sharp and strong and sturdy lines of his body pressed against you. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips. “So much. From the moment that we met.”

“Really?” you teased back as his lips began trailing down your jaw and neck. 

“Mmhmm,” he murmured against your neck, hands traveling further down to your ass and hoisting you up to his massive height. 

You giggled. “I know the bond snapped for you then and all that, but we didn’t even know each other.”

“No, but I felt your soul,” he said, laying you back on the soft mattress. His chest pressed against yours, and you arched toward him, craving everything he was going to give you. His lips trailed down your sternum, stopping only when the neckline of your shirt interrupted him. He reached behind you, loosening the ties of your top until he could pull the fabric away, exposing your chest to him. 

“I knew that I would love every part of you, even the ones I hadn’t known then. And I was right. You are my mate. My perfect match,” he said, echoing your words, and his kisses didn’t stop, moving to where you craved him. His mouth wrapped around a nipple and you arched towards him, a soft moan escaping and he smiled against your skin. 

“I will spend the rest of my existence trying to be the male you deserve.”

His mouth trailed lower then, down your navel and then his hand found its way past the hem of your pants. His touch cut off the words that you were about to say, but you didn’t need to, because he knew. He knew that you already thought he was that male, even if he didn’t believe it himself. He knew that you loved him unconditionally, and there was no other place he belonged other than wrapped around you. 

“Go to the ends of the world for you, to make you feel my love.”

“It’s an easy one,” Rhysand said, looking at you before turning his gaze to Azriel. “I don’t expect any opposition. It’ll be as good a time as any to get her out there.”

You smiled at Rhys, pride filling your chest that he thought you were ready to go out into the field. Granted, it was an easy mission and there would be no one to actually fight. Just get in, get the artifact from the abandoned ruins, and get out. And he was also sending you as an added attachment to Azriel, who could probably handle it by himself. But still–progress was progress. 

“No,” Azriel said. Your eyes snapped to him. He was staring at Rhysand, and you knew that he was purposefully avoiding your gaze. 

“What do you mean ‘no’?” you asked, crossing your arms across your chest. 

You glared at your mate, who was still avoiding your stare, and you could have sworn you saw Rhys wince from the corner of your eye, and he quietly made his way out the door, knowing this was something you and Azriel needed to discuss alone. 

He was silent for a moment before he sighed, turning his gaze to you. He took a steadying breath, like he had to steel himself, like he knew an argument with you was brewing. 

“It’s too dangerous.”

“How so? Rhys said there would be no one else there, it’s a quick in-and-out. And you’ll be there with me. It’s not like I’m going alone.”

He whispered your name, a desperate tone lining the edges of his voice, but you did not yield. 

“Az, I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady. You were ready. “I know you get scared and overprotective, but I promise you that I’m ready. You know I am.” 

He glanced away from you, mulling the words over in his head and you knew from the contemplative look on his face that you had almost convinced him. 

You gave a soft tug on the bond between you, and he looked back at you. “Please,” you pleaded softly. It wasn’t that you needed his permission–you were almost as stubborn as he was, and you both knew that he couldn’t stop you even if he tried, and if he did manage to do it, there would be hell waiting for him. But his approval, his blessing, to know that he believed in you and have him standing by your side would be worth more than gold in your eyes. 

He sighed, his head hanging down in resignation, and you knew you had won. He looked back at you, uncertainty and concern still shining in his eyes, but he nodded. “Alright.”

You smiled at him, delight filling your chest, and from the way he smiled back at you, you knew that he sensed it, too. You took a step closer to him, grabbed his hand, and squeezed in gratitude. 

“You do exactly as I say. You don’t go rogue. We get in and get out. Understand?”

He shifted then–the change in your mate brazen and he went from loving, soft male to the no-nonsense spymaster, austerity returning to every aspect of his being. A part of you wanted to writhe in arousal. Seeing him like that, serious and focused, did things to you. It brought back memories about that one night three months prior, when he had taken you to his recently cleaned dungeon, and a rather fun, unhinged roleplaying session had taken place.

You shook the thought from your head, and he raised an eyebrow at you, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking of. Your face heated, but you remained composed. 

“I will. I won’t disappoint you.”

He sighed, taking a step towards you and pressed his lips against your forehead. “You’ll never disappoint me. I just need you to be safe.”

“I will be. I’ll be with you.”

The massive stone building was ancient. The ruins of the enormous temple were so old that pieces of it were crumbling. It was silent, not even the chirping of the birds or the buzzing of insects filled the area. It was as if life itself ceased to exist in that place. A shiver moved down your spine, and you squeezed Azriel’s hand. 

“In and out,” he said, and you nodded. 

The inside of the ruins was even worse. Overgrown weeds covered most surfaces. You imagined that the discolored walls had once been a stark white, a shining pillar of beauty, but left abandoned now looked like a muddy street in a busy town. Dirty. The stone chipped away there as well, and you both walked in carefully, fully aware of pieces of stone that occasionally rained down to the ground from the caved-in ceiling. 

But it was there. The chalice. 

The golden cup glistened in the sunlight that filtered through the collapsing ceiling, and it looked…wrong. Not a speck of dust or debris touched the gilded surface, as if it had just been placed there, despite the rumors that it had been waiting there for hundreds of years. You glanced around, no sign of anything being amiss. There were no tracks, nothing seemed to be disturbed. The only thing out of place was that damn cup, perched on a stone pillar in the center of the chamber. 

Azriel took a step forward, his arm outstretched towards you, keeping you where you stood. 

“Something’s not right,” he muttered, looking around as you had. His shadows dispersed, filtering through the space, searching for things that you and Azriel might not be able to see, but they returned to their master after a few minutes. 

“You think that something might happen once we grab it? Like some kind of booby trap?” you asked. He glanced back at you, serious and contemplative as he nodded. 

“Let’s grab it and you can winnow us out right after,” he said, after a few moments of thought. “You can take us further than my shadows can.”

You nodded and you both approached the center of the room. He stood near the pillar, one hand outstretched towards the golden cup, the other firmly in your grasp. 

He glanced at you.  “Ready?”

You nodded and his hand wrapped around the chalice. You pictured the dense forest far away, the furthest point you could get you and Azriel to, and imagined the world folding into itself, taking you to that place. 

But nothing happened. Azriel looked at you and you looked back at him, a slight panic in your eyes. 

“It’s not working,” you said. He straightened, and called his shadows to walk through them, except his shadows were also gone. All of them. Like some sort of shield came over the two of you when he grabbed the chalice, rendering your magic completely useless. 

He squeezed your hand, and if you didn’t know him as well as you did, he would seem calm. But the slight cinch of his brows and tightening of his jaw gave away his panic. He pulled you towards the entrance of the ruins quickly, making quick work of leaving. 

The ground beneath your feet shook, making you latch tightly to Azriel to keep your balance. A deep rumbling and the sound of stone grating against stone resounded from behind you. You both turned, watching as a hidden door on the far wall of the dilapidated temple rose, opening a dark chamber behind it. You couldn’t tell how large it was, it was eerily dark and the sunlight only illuminated a few inches into the doorway.

Azriel pulled you to the entrance–the exit–quicker, but the deep growl that came from that darkness made your heart jump to your chest and he stopped short, looking back to assess the danger. Maybe you could run, you were close to the exit, but what if the creature was faster? 

A male walked out. No–not a male. Not fae, or human, or Illyrian, or any matter of creature you had seen before. It looked like a corpse. Sallow, dry skin stretched over bones and muscles and tendons grotesquely and it was impossibly large. It towered over Azriel and its double row of razor sharp teeth sent chills down your spine. 

Your hand was still clenched tightly in Azriel’s and you tried to winnow again, but to no avail. 

“Cauldron fuck,” you whispered at the sight before you. “What is that thing?”

Azriel took a step forward, Truth-Teller already in his hand and his siphons glowed bright. 

“Run,” he growled, pushing you behind him and towards the only way out. 

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You turned and bolted, Azriel right at your heels. All you had to do was make it out the exit and Azriel could fly you both out of range of that thing. 

It gave chase, and reached Azriel quickly, too quickly, and you turned as you watched him fight the creature. He was strong, and fast, but the creature was all brute strength and the slices Truth-Teller made to its legs and abdomen didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

You wanted to call out to Azriel, but didn’t want to distract him. 

He called out to you, his attention turning to you for only a moment as he tossed you the Chalice. “Run! Go!”

“Not without you!” You refused to leave him. And maybe you were stupid for not listening, but you knew that if you ran and something happened to Azriel, you would never forgive yourself. 

He blocked another attack from the creature, his arms straining with the effort to keep it away. 

“Just go!”

The creature lunged for him, and you grabbed the small, thin sword strapped at your back, and rushed towards the fray. Azriel met your eyes for a single second, an incredulous rage shining in them, but you ignored him as you swiped at the creature, drawing black blood from a wound in its arm. It snarled at you, giving Azriel a chance to stab it right in the chest. Except nothing happened, it only seemed to make the creature more angry and it turned towards the Illyrian. 

It was fast. Faster than any creature you had ever seen before. You saw its large mouth open, that double row of sharp teeth oozing a pale green excrement and it was almost in slow motion as you watched it lean down towards Azriel. Your mind blanked, not a single thought running through it except ‘not him, not him, not him”. You jumped in front of Azriel, moving faster than you had ever before, and that jaw, strong and sharp, snapped shut on your forearm. 

Azriel roared in rage, taking the sword from your hand, which now hung limp at the other side of that maw, and he ran it clear through the creature’s neck. The black blood sprayed on your face and chest, the tight bite still clamped shut on your skin. 

Maybe you were in shock, but you didn’t scream. You had expected a sharp pain, but all you felt was an intense, crushing impact. The pressure was immense, and even as its head was severed from its body and the creature died, the mouth remained latched on your arm. 

Azriel ran towards it, grabbing the jaw in both hands as he tried to pry it apart. It loosened slowly, and that’s when the pain hit you. You screamed as the large teeth dislodged from your arm and Azriel threw the head to the ground. 

“What the fuck?!” he yelled at you, eyes wide and panicked, but it sounded like he was underwater. There was a ringing in your ears, so loud that you hardly registered any other sounds. Not his panicked screaming, not his heavy breathing, not even your own groans of pain as he finally removed that creature from you. 

You looked down at the wound and bile rose to your throat. The puncture wounds–too many for you to actually count–went down to the bone, exposing the muscles and tendons and that cracked, white bone deep in your arm. A part of you was surprised that the appendage was still attached to your body. 

The scent hit you next, acrid and rotting, and it was an effort to not throw up then and there. The pale green saliva of the creature coated your skin and you could see it mixed in with your blood in some of the wounds. Your arm began to heat up, too quickly, and it was searing within seconds. 

You whimpered in anguish and began shaking violently as the pain began radiating to every other cell in your body. 

You moaned in pain, ‘It’s burning!”

His eyes were stricken, movements frantic as he gathered you in his arms and ran out of the ruins, not waiting to see if anything else would escape from that secret, dark chamber. His wings spread, wide and vast, and he launched into the air, his arms cradling you tight to his body. After flying at full speed for a few moments, his shadows returned, finally out of range of whatever matter of shield had overcome the two of you in that place. 

You considered trying to winnow, but the burning pain in your arm was getting worse, spreading up towards your bicep and you couldn’t stop the scream of pain that you released. Your uninjured hand gripped the golden chalice tightly, holding it securely in your lap. He hesitated at jumping through his shadows, afraid the jump would be too much for you.

“What the fuck?! Why would you do that?! Why?”

His voice carried through the air as he flew home and he sounded so far away, even if he was right next to you. Your ears were clouded, your vision began to turn spotty, and the pain in your arm, now creeping towards your shoulder, was the only thing sharp enough for you to fully focus on. Regardless, you looked at his face, his beautiful face that was twisted in horror and worry and he looked like he was going to be sick, but he was still the most gorgeous male you had seen. 

“For you,” you mumbled as the edges of your vision began fading. 

You fought the urge to fall asleep, feeling as if you would fade away if you were to close your eyes. You were lucid enough to realize that the saliva probably held some sort of venom, and could feel the sharp pain radiating from your shoulder. But you didn’t care. It was worth it. It would always be worth it. He would always be worth it. Azriel would be alive and well, breathing and not in pain. If you weren’t able to fend off his nightmares completely, then you’d make damn sure you kept anything else away that could possibly hurt him–protect him from anything you could. 

The world went black, despite your best efforts, and you heard a loud wail before completely losing consciousness. You weren't sure if it came from you or Azriel, but once the darkness claimed you, it didn’t matter anymore. 

When you awakened, the soft light of dawn was filtering through your thin, balcony curtains. Your upper body was stiff, the wrapping around your arm tight. The sharp pain had faded and your fast healing was already helping the wound along, although you estimated at least a week until you were completely fine. 

You turned your head, finding Azriel sitting on the bed beside you. He was leaned up against the headboard, asleep, and the hand closest to you laid gently on your head, fingers intertwined with your hair. 

His shadows swirled around his head, whispering into his ears once they noticed you move and he quickly woke up, gaze snapping to yours. He gasped your name and he moved quickly, leaning down to hover over you, his gaze sweeping up and down as if to assess you. 

“Are you alright? Are you in pain?” he spoke quickly, barely breathing between questions and your heart gave a gentle lurch at the worry emanating from him in waves. He looked exhausted. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes, his hair was a mess, and the beginnings of a beard were starting to show on his chiseled face. You couldn’t recall ever seeing him with facial hair before. 

Guilt began to gnaw at you, knowing that it was you who made him frantic like this, but also knew that you would do it over again if it meant he was safe. 

“You’re starting to get a beard,” you mumbled, voice scratchy from disuse. He looked at you, disbelief and mild annoyance in his eyes. You grinned at him, although from the slight pull in your arm, you knew it may have looked more like a grimace. 

“Hello, there,” you continued and he sighed, closing his eyes, and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice tight and you had the sneaking suspicion that he was clenching his eyes shut to stop himself from crying. “I thought I lost you.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Shadowsinger,” you said, joking, but he leaned back, opening his eyes to look at you. They looked suspiciously shiny. 

“Don’t ever do that again. Ever. Do you understand me?” His tone was serious, more solemn and harsh than he had ever spoken to you and the witty remark dried up on your tongue. 

“I can’t promise you that,” you said, and he shook his head, leaning away and sitting beside you on the bed. He reached to the table next to you, silent now, and brought a glass of water to your lips. You leaned up, drinking the liquid and he then poured a tonic into your mouth before giving you more water. 

Once you had your fill, he placed the glass back on the table and faced away from you. His wings dragged behind him, one resting lightly on your leg and the weight of it brought you such comfort that you wanted to cry. He was here. You were here. You were both okay, and he was safe here with you because you saved him. 

“Az,” you whispered and his shoulders shook as a sob escaped him. 

You tried sitting up, groaning in pain as your wound pulled. He quickly turned around, gently pinning your shoulders to the bed to stop you from moving. 

“Don’t,” he said simply, the tears running down his face. Your eyes began to burn as tears built up.

“Azriel?” you asked. 

“You have to. You have to promise me that you will never do that again,” he pleaded with you. He pulled at the thread between you and the despair, horror, and the distressed anxiety he had felt over the past three days came flooding in, making you sob. 

“Please,” he begged.

“I can't,” you sobbed. “I’d do it a million times over if it means you’d be safe.” That time you let your own emotions flow to him–the horror that had flooded you the second you noticed that creature leaning towards him, the love that encompassed your entire being and drove you to jump in front of it. 

“I would die for you, Azriel.” He inhaled sharply at that, tears continuing to stream down his cheeks and you grasped his hand tightly in yours. “I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone and your life is worth it to me. And I don’t care if you don’t see it that way. Because you know 

you’d try to do the same if it was the other way around, that you’d go to the ends of the world to keep me safe.”

Your hand raised, drying a tear from his cheek. 

“You fucking unbelievable, stubborn female,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. He leaned his forehead on yours. “I can’t live without you. I refuse to live in a world without you in it, so please, for my sake, please try to not do that again.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips again. “I refuse to live in a world without you, either, you Illyrian baby.”

“Selfish brat,” he muttered, voice full of affection. He leaned away, grabbing both of your hands and pressing kisses to the back of them. “Let’s both agree to try to stay as safe as we possibly can. Can you agree to that?”

“Hmm, fine. It’s reasonable enough,” you said. He shook his head, pressing another kiss to your forehead and laid back down next to you, careful not to jostle you too much. 

“You’re my world,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “I’d burn down the world for you if I needed to.”

You wanted to respond, to tell him you’d do the same for him, but the tonic he had given you was making you so drowsy, and you were already half asleep and unable to form a coherent thought. He cradled you against his large frame, his warmth and the steady beat of his heart lulling you the rest of the way to your sleep.

Masterlist

It was a rare, slow afternoon. Not entirely quiet, it never was, but slow enough that people were leaning against walls and counters instead of rushing, laughing with each other for longer than they should, and sipping on coffee instead of chugging it down. No one said anything about it in fear of invoking the dreaded hospital curse. If someone mentioned anything, the rare peace would dissipate. 

You were at the nurses’ station, logged into a computer and doing some much-needed catching up on your charting, half-listening to Donnie and Mateo argue about some football game. 

You felt his presence before he said anything. It was strange, almost like you were hard-wired with a sixth sense for him. 

He stopped in front of you, a hand tapping on the counter next to you. 

“Robby,” you said, acknowledging him without looking up from your screen. 

He said your name in return, and you sensed the smile on his face. “I need a second opinion.”

“That’s concerning.”

“Wow,” he said. “Didn’t even ask what it’s about.”

You finally glanced up, no longer fighting the urge to see his charming smile, and raised one brow. “Is it for a diagnosis?”

“No.”

“Alright, then it’s regarding either a bad idea or a worse one.”

You heard Donnie snicker quietly behind you. 

Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m offended.”

“You’ll survive,” you said, turning back to your screen, a smile on your face. 

“Debatable,” he muttered, then leaned his forearms on the counter across from you. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

You sighed in fake annoyance and looked at him again. His smile was still on his face, the corners of his brown eyes crinkled, and you fought the urge to look away when your heartbeat increased. “Alright, lay it on me, Robinavitch.”

He studied you for a second, long enough that it made something inside of you jolt. 

“If someone brings in donuts,” he said, “but doesn’t explicitly say they’re for everyone, is it morally acceptable to take one?”

You blinked, stunned into silence for a moment.

“…That’s your crisis?”

“It’s an ethical gray area,” he insisted, and the incredulous laughter escaped you before you could stop it. 

“You’re asking me,” you said slowly, “if you’re allowed to take a donut.”

“Will I be judged for it?”

“Oh, absolutely. Especially by me,” you said immediately, the smile lingering on your face. 

“Wow.” He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

You finally closed out the chart, giving him your full attention. “Just take one, Robby. If they didn’t want people to take them, they shouldn’t have left them there.”

“And risk ruining my reputation?”

“You don’t have one,” you shot back.

He grinned wide and unguarded at that, and a part of you marvelled at just how easy it was between the two of you. 

“Okay,” he said. “Hypothetical follow-up. If I take one,” he continued, leaning in slightly, voice dropping like this was suddenly serious, “and bring you one, does that improve my standing?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

You held his gaze a second too long. There was something lingering in it, playful, but also intentional and focused in a way that felt different than how he was with everyone else. Your pulse skipped in your chest at the fact that you noticed, that he made it easy for you to notice. You looked away first.

“Depends on the donut.” You were trying hard to be nonchalant, and you wondered if he could tell. 

He straightened, triumphant. “So that’s a yes.”

“That’s a maybe.”

“Good enough.”

He pushed off the counter and headed toward the break room. You told yourself to go back to charting; you were backlogged four patients from the morning rush, and you didn’t want to stay after your shift to catch up. You didn’t, though. You watched him instead, the way he joked with Dana in passing as he made his way into the break room. He grabbed and opened the bright pink box of donuts like he was fully aware he was committing a minor crime, and you bit your lip to hold in your giggle. He glanced back over his shoulder and caught your eye, winking at you. 

You quickly dropped your gaze, heat creeping up your neck. 

When he returned, he set a napkin down in front of you. You glanced down. It was your favorite…of course it was. 

“You look like a chocolate frosting person,” he said.

You frowned slightly. “That was a bold assumption.”

“I’m a bold guy,” he replied.

You picked it up anyway, taking a bite just to prove a point. He was watching you, a knowing glimmer in his eye, almost as if he knew that he was right. 

You sighed in mock resignation. “It’s acceptable.”

He grinned. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s a chocolate frosting kind of person.”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in, taking another bite of the dessert, and he kept his eyes on you. You felt a bit embarrassed, but a part of you bristled at the attention. It felt good to have his eyes on you. 

“You do this with everyone?” you asked after a pause, gesturing between the two of you.

“What, risk my professional integrity for baked goods?”

“No,” you said. “This.”

His expression shifted slightly. It softened, the mischievous glint going away, but his focused gaze remained firmly on you.

“No,” he said. The answer landed differently than you expected. Your stomach flipped and your breath caught in your chest at the sudden realization that hit you. 

“Oh,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He tilted his head. “Oh?”

You shook your head quickly, looking back down at the screen you were definitely not working on anymore. “Nothing.”

But it was not nothing. Because something clicked into place. An overwhelming realization that you should have seen coming, because it felt so certain and obvious. 

You liked him. More than you should. More than a resident should like their attending. The sudden clarity left you slightly disoriented, and you realized that it might be a problem…a big one. But a part of you didn't entirely mind. 

Things used to be so easy. The flirty banter was almost second nature for you and Robby, and you looked forward to his quips every day. You used to wake up excited for the day ahead. But now, dread settled into your gut every morning since he returned, knowing you had to go into work and see him. You knew you shouldn’t. You slept next to your boyfriend–sweet, kind, and undeniably hot Evan. But your first thoughts when you woke up were not of him. They were of soft, doe brown eyes, a raspy voice, and the self-depricating man they belonged to.

It was almost like Robby was haunting you.  

You walked into the hospital, the blast of air-conditioning greeting you, and you found it funny that the entrance, the busy waiting room full of sick, pissed-off people, was the only part of the building you ever felt calm in these days. The rest of it–the nurses’ station, the break room, the hub and ambulance bay–it all felt as much of a prison as your own thoughts.  

And he was there, in the center of it, his eyes already on you like you were a siren calling to him. 

It had been a week since he spoke with you in the breakroom. A week since your thoughts could not stop swirling with his words and the implications behind them. 

There were things I should’ve said before I left. 

A hand found itself on the small of your back, and you glanced behind you, guilt overwhelming you at the sight of Evan’s smile. The smile that you should be thinking of. 

“Gotta head up, now. Have a good day, babe.”

“Yeah, you, too,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. 

He nodded, the easy smile still on his face, but his eyes flickered behind you to where Robby was standing. He looked back at you and nodded before turning and heading towards the elevators. You knew he could sense something, a shift that happened to you whenever Robby was around, but he had not said anything, not even the night he saw the two of you in the break room. 

You made your way to the hub, your feet dragging beneath you like you had cinderblocks attached to them, and you ignored the pit in your stomach the closer you got to him. 

“Morning,” he said, initiating the conversation like he had every day since he came back. 

You looked up to the med board, trying to distract yourself with the list of patients. 

“Hi,” you said, not sparing him a glance even though every cell in your body was screaming at you to just look at him. 

You felt his gaze on you, steady and unrelenting, and a part of you was growing used to the feeling of him watching you. It was familiar and oddly comforting. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. But you felt his eyes linger on you every day since he came back, the soft look in his gaze feeling heavier and more momentous since he almost said what he felt for you. 

There was no denying it. You ran through that conversation in your head again and again, trying to find some other meaning to the words that he said, but you couldn’t. There were things you should’ve said before he left, too–things you were going to say, but things were so different now. So much more complicated. 

“Hey,” he said, dragging your attention back to the present moment as he slid closer to you. “You okay?”

Your stomach tightened at his proximity, and your fists clenched at your side. Evan. His name was on repeat in your brain for the last week, an effort to remind yourself of the sweet man and to stop yourself from reaching towards what you shouldn’t have. What you couldn’t have. 

“Yeah,” you answered quickly, your eyes finally shifting towards him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, hands stuffed casually into his pockets, but his voice lowered slightly when he spoke again. “You seem quiet.”

“Just getting my day started,” you said, and you cursed the defensive tone that bled into your words. 

He raised a brow. “Right. Sure.” He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed loosely, and he didn’t seem convinced. “It just seems like since I came back, things are different. I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you.” He wasn’t intense or confrontational. It seemed like a genuine effort to make things less awkward between the two of you. You supposed it was part of his job as the head attending to make sure that there was no friction between the two of you. 

You swallowed the knot at the back of your throat and nodded. “I know.” 

You were hyper aware of him and the space between the two of you, or lack thereof. He was so close that his warmth was emanating on you. Your eyes strayed to him for a second too long, and your gazes met. For a moment, the rest of the hospital faded. The loud ambulance sirens weakened to a quiet hum. The loud conversations and movements slowed to a blur. 

Your brain scrambled itself, trying to think of something to say, but thankfully, you didn’t need to. Paramedics came rushing in from the ambulance bay, wheeling in a middle-aged man on a stretcher. And then the two of you rushed into action, moving towards your first patient of the day. 

It was twenty-five minutes later when the two of you emerged from Trauma One. You breathed a sigh of relief. You managed to stabilize the patient, although he was still symptomatic. A part of you was also glad that, despite your personal situation with Robby, the two of you worked as well together as you always had. Like true partners, a perfect fit that worked efficiently. 

You cleared your throat. 

“You were awesome in there,” you said. Robby looked at you, a shine in his eyes, and he smiled. A true smile–one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his cheekbones rise. 

“High praise,” he teased. 

Your lips twitched slightly. “Don’t let it get to your head. Your ego is huge enough already.”

He chuckled. “Too late.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes and, for a moment, it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed. 

“You think I was right to page cardio?” you asked, second-guessing yourself. “He's stable now; maybe it’s unnecessary.”

He shook his head. “It was the right choice. He’s still symptomatic.”

You nodded and smiled at him. It was a small, hesitant smile, but the shift in him was obvious immediately. He seemed brighter, almost happier, although he tried to contain it. He nodded at you before he was pulled in a different direction, and you grabbed another patient, a calm settling within you. Maybe the rest of the day wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe things didn’t have to stay as awkward as they had been. 

But that was all wishful thinking. 

You were reviewing labs, double-checking orders for your new patient. You had been almost positive it was a routine UTI, but the labs just confirmed it. Perlah was next to you, and both of you started to make your way to the patient’s room when a sharp, impatient voice cut through the floor. 

“Who put in this consult? For Justin Ketos?”

You looked up at the sound of your patient’s name.

Dr. Kane stood at the counter, chart in hand, irritation written into every line of his face. He was known for this. He was a brilliant cardiologist, one of the best, but his moods were unpredictable. 

You cleared your throat, and his eyes snapped to you. 

“That was me,” you said, keeping your tone even as you stepped forward. Perlah stiffened behind you, and her hand tightened around your wrist before quickly letting go. 

He flipped a page, scoffing. “Why would you page me for this?”

You blinked. Maybe you were right to second-guess yourself earlier. You quickly glanced around, trying to spot Robby, but you couldn’t see him. “His troponins were elevated, and—”

“They’re borderline,” he cut in, louder. Heads started to turn in your direction, and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck in embarrassment. “This doesn’t warrant a stat consult.”

Your stomach tightened, but you held your ground. “His EKG changed from baseline, and he’s still symptomatic. I followed protocol.”

“Protocol,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “Or panic?”

You took a steadying breath. “I made a clinical decision based on his presentation.”

“And you’ve wasted my time. Great job,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how many unnecessary consults like this I get in a day?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his harsh words didn’t relent.

“This is exactly the problem,” he said, gesturing with the chart. “People who don’t fully understand what they’re looking at overreact and escalate things they shouldn’t.”

The words landed harder than they should. You knew you were right. You knew it. Robby had confirmed it. But someone speaking to you like that, humiliating you in front of everyone, made something in your chest twist, and you felt burning in your eyes. 

“I didn’t overreact,” you said, quieter but firm. “I did my job.”

He laughed, short and dismissive. “If this is your idea of doing your job, maybe you need to—”

“Hey.” It wasn’t loud, but the raspy voice cut through the tension. Robby. 

He stepped in beside you, his presence immediately grounding. He was close enough that his arm brushed against yours, and you bit your tongue, because a part of you felt like you were about to burst into tears. 

Dr. Kane turned his attention to the older man, already irritated. “What?”

Robby’s expression was calm and controlled.

“Do not speak to my resident like that,” he said, solid and steady. You knew him well enough to sense the simmering anger beneath the surface. His hands clenched at his side, his mouth twitched, and his head tilted to the side. 

Kane scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Robby replied evenly. “If you have a concern about the consult, we can discuss it professionally. But you don’t get to come in here and talk down to one of my best doctors.”

A beat passed in silence, and your heart swelled in your chest at not only his praise but his support.  

Kane’s eyes narrowed, glancing at you before moving back to Robby. “I’m addressing a mistake, Robinavitch.”

“No,” Robby said, sharper now. “You’re making assumptions.”

Silence filled the space around you, and you could sense more than a few eyes on the three of you. 

Robby gestured toward the chart. “EKG changes, elevated troponins, ongoing symptoms—that’s a valid consult. She followed protocol and made the right call.”

Kane pressed his lips together in annoyance, clearly not expecting pushback. He didn’t expect Robby to defend one of his residents, even though that’s exactly the thing Robby would do for anyone who needed it. 

“This could’ve waited,” he muttered.

“Or it could’ve been something serious that got missed,” Robby countered. “That’s the point of getting you down here.”

Kessler exhaled through his nose, irritation still lingering there but dulled. “Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll take a look.”

He didn’t apologize, but he also didn’t argue further. He turned, ignoring you, eyes scanning the chart as he walked off. 

“Alright, people, back to work,” you heard Dana say from somewhere behind you, but her voice sounded far away and drowned out, like it was underwater. 

The space around you slowly came back to life. Quiet chatter picked up again, and you felt gazes shift away from you. But your feet remained rooted in their spot. You still felt the sting of embarrassment and humiliation from being called out in front of your colleagues, in front of patients. You felt shame and panic building and knew the frustrated tears weren’t far behind. 

Your hands trembled as you heaved a breath and took the opportunity that everyone’s attention had shifted from you to rush away, tumbling through the double doors and into the stairwell. 

The door opened behind you and you knew it was him before even having to look back. 

“I’m okay,” you said, slightly out of breath. His presence lingered behind you and he murmured your name. You swallowed the lump in your throat and squeezed your eyes shut, urging the burning feeling behind them to go away. 

When you felt you finally got a hold on your emotions, you turned. His expression had shifted, the iciness he had held for Kane completely gone, and he was staring at you with softness and warmth and understanding. You felt a new knot form at the back of your throat. 

“I’m okay,” you repeated, forcing the words out, and although you tried sounding confident, your words were quieter that time. 

“You sure?” he asked, leaning his head down to get a closer look at your face. 

You were silent for a moment and decided it was better not to answer that question, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep lying. Not to him. 

“Thanks,” you said, changing the subject. “For standing up for me.”

He shrugged, but didn’t look away. “You don’t have to thank me for that. He was out of line.”

His mouth tightened into a thin line and his eyes shifted before returning to yours. You could sense the anger that still lingered. 

“I could’ve dealt with Kane. I don’t want to cause any trouble. You didn’t have to step in like that.”

He looked at you, disbelief etching into the lines of his face. 

“Yes, I did. You shouldn’t have to deal with Kane. You did everything you were supposed to; he had no right talking to you like that.”

He took a step towards you, the air growing thick and your heart beat faster beneath your ribs. You felt on edge again for an entirely different reason. 

“I’ll always step in for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded. 

He stared at you for a moment longer. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” His voice was low, gravelly and deep, and you took a shaky breath in before being able to respond. 

“Yes,” you said. He tilted his head, taking another step towards you, his eyes showing doubt. “I promise.”

Your voice came out low and breathy, and you clenched your hands at your sides, desperately trying to hold back the urge to reach out and touch him. He was so close you could smell the mint on his breath. His breathing picked up, you noticed, and his eyes glanced down the span of your face and settled on your lips for a second before darting back to your eyes. He opened his mouth, and for a moment you thought he would say something, but he didn’t. He sighed, taking a step back from you, though his eyes still lingered on your face. 

“I meant it,” he said quietly. “What I said back there.”

“What?”

His jaw tightened slightly. “That you’re one of my best doctors.”

A swell of pride rose in you and you smiled at him. Something deeper lingered under the words, you both knew it, but neither of you moved. 

The doors slammed open, making you jump back from Robby. You looked behind him at Evan, who had just stepped into the stairwell. 

“Evan,” you said, breathy, and Robby took another step away from you. Guilt started eating away at you. You had stood there, entirely too close to Robby, and not a single thought of Evan had crossed your mind. 

He stood at the doors for a moment, glancing between you and Robby, before taking a step towards you. 

“I heard about what happened.”

Robby cleared his throat. “I have to get back.” He glanced at you before speaking again. “I’ll see you in there.” 

A heavy silence lingered after the door closed behind him. You looked at Evan and the indiscernible look in his blue eyes and you didn’t trust yourself to say anything first. 

He glanced back at the doors before looking back at you. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Word travels fast around here,” you muttered. 

“Dana told me what happened…Nice of Robby to defend you like that.”

You cleared your throat. “Well, he’s my boss.”

He gave you a pointed look. “I think we both know that’s not the whole truth.”

Your hands shook and you felt nervous. You knew that you had not done anything wrong. You and Robby hadn’t even touched, but you knew that your heart wasn’t in the right place right then. And that just made you feel like shit.  You looked down at your shoes, shame filling every part of you. 

“Look, I have patients I have to see. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Let’s talk tonight, alright?” 

A part of you shriveled inside at his calm tone, the kindness that still swirled in his blue gaze. He approached you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He gently grabbed your shoulders, making you look up at him, and he smiled, almost resigned. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll talk later.” He pressed another kiss to your head and walked away,  leaving you standing alone in the stairway. 

The day was long, as were most days. There was a brief lull in the mid-afternoon, and you took the chance to catch up on as much of your charting as you could. A part of you resented it–patients kept you busy, and if you were busy, you could keep your mind off of how much of a shit show your personal life was. The entire situation with Robby, the tension that you knew Evan felt, the impending, impossible decision you had to make about that offer letter from Presby…it all felt like too much that day. And sitting your ass down to do something as mundane as charting just made too many thoughts swirl in your head. 

A presence slid in beside you. You glanced up at Trinity, who looked to be about done with everything and everyone as she dropped her tablet onto the counter in front of her. 

“Remind me again why we thought this job was a good idea,” she huffed out. 

You chuckled. “Because we were young and optimistic and maybe a little stupid.”

“Tragic,” she said and rolled her eyes. 

She glanced at you, contemplative. 

“So,” she said casually, “have you made up your mind yet?”

You didn’t look up from the computer screen. “About what?”

She gave you a pointed look. “Presby…”

You bit your lip and lowered your voice slightly. “I don’t know yet.”

“It’s a good offer,” she said. “Better hours, better pay…”

“Wow, Trin, you’re really selling it. If you want me gone, just say it.”

Her sharp eyes stared at you and she raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m just saying, if I had that option, I’d take it. I wonder what’s keeping you here,” she said, and though the question was rhetorical, she had a knowing look in her eye. 

“Well, Evan thinks I should take it.”

She huffed out a cynical laugh. “Oh, please, we both know it’s not him.”

“Trinity,” you said, and she threw her hands up in mock surrender. 

“I didn’t say names,” she said. “All I’m saying is that you should decide soon. They won’t wait forever.”

You knew she was talking about Presby, but her words hit harder and deeper than they were meant to. They won’t wait forever. 

“I know.”

“Are you seriously considering the offer, though?”

“Yes, I am. I think it might be the right choice. But, maybe it’s not…I don’t know.”

Before she could respond, Dana’s voice cut in from behind you. 

“Wait, what offer?” 

You turned to find her a few feet away, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. Your stomach dropped, and Trin winced from beside you. 

“Oops…that’s my cue to go.” You shot her a look as she got up and walked away. 

You turned back towards Dana. You hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Um, I got an attending offer for next year…From Presby.”

She stepped closer. “And you were planning on mentioning this when?”

“I haven’t told that many people. Just Evan and Santos,” you said quickly. “I just haven’t decided anything yet. It’s the only offer I’ve gotten so far. I was waiting to see…”

She studied you for a moment. “You’re seriously considering leaving?”

The question landed heavier than you expected. “Yes, maybe…I don’t know. I’m not really sure yet. They want an answer pretty soon, though.”

Dana nodded slowly, processing your words, but something in her gaze sharpened, like she was connecting dots in her mind. You always knew her to be observant, and a part of you knew that she knew more about the situation than she led on. 

“Well,” she said after a moment, her tone lighter, “that’s one way to shake things up around here.”

You smiled back at her, but it was forced, and you knew from the sad look in her eye that she knew it was, too. 

Robby leaned against the nurses’ station, tablet in hand, and glasses perched on his nose. It was rare that he was fully caught up with patients, and a part of him felt restless, so he had found himself overthinking. About the overdue cleaning his home needed, then about the staffing needs for the following year, and that road always led him back to you. 

Maybe it was selfish of him to want to keep you with him. But you were his best resident, his feelings for you aside. It only made sense to offer you that attending position. 

Dana was beside him, typing something up, and his eyes flickered over to her. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. 

“Oh, no,” she said, tone dry and she didn’t even bother looking up from what she was doing. He ignored the quip. 

“About next year. Staffing.”

That certainly got her attention. She looked up, her hazel eyes locking with his. “Okay…”

“We’re going to need another attending,” he continued. “Someone who already knows the system, the pace. Someone who can handle the pressure.”

Dana watched him now, more carefully. “Who’d you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about offering it to her,” he said. He didn’t say your name, but he didn’t need to. 

Dana’s brow lifted slightly. “That so?”

“She’s ready,” Robby added, more firmly. “More than ready. She’s one of the best to come around here.”

“I’m not arguing that,” Dana said, and then paused for a beat. He sensed that she had more to say, but she stayed quiet. His jaw tightened. 

“But?...”

“But,” she added, turning fully towards him. “She got another offer.”

He stilled, almost reeling back from the shock of it. Thinking about it, he shouldn’t be shocked. He wouldn’t be surprised if you got a million other offers. But a part of him felt like he already had you, already had some sort of claim on you. But that didn’t stop the words from landing like a punch in the gut. 

“From who?”

“Presby,” Dana said, watching him carefully.

“She’s… leaving?” he asked, his voice quieter. 

“She hasn’t decided,” Dana clarified. “But it’s not hypothetical.”

Robby looked down at the tablet in his hands, the dark screen reflecting his face back at him. His brows were furrowed, and something similar to horror reflected back at him through his eyes. You might be leaving PTMC. You might be leaving him. And you hadn’t even mentioned anything. 

“I was going to ask her to stay.” His voice was quiet and honest, and Dana’s expression softened, something akin to pity lining her features. 

“You might want to do that soon,” she said.

Robby nodded slowly. It was a good opportunity. A smart choice; he knew that. But he felt himself start to spiral with images of you, of the distance between you, of you and Evan, and the emotional walls you both had built since he left. What was the phrase…right person, wrong time? He had debated coming back at all, but he did. The only thing he thought of during his sabbatical was you, the only reason he came back was you, but it still felt like he lost you. 

He knew he was running out of time. 

He didn’t confront you right away. Back-to-back traumas and the nonstop pace of the ED kept you both busy, and he wasn’t able to find a moment alone with you. The conversation would not be an easy one; he knew he had to get you alone, away from prying eyes and ears, if he hoped for any kind of raw honesty. 

For you, the day felt like too much. Not only had you been completely humiliated in front of your coworkers, on top of dealing with your complicated feelings for Robby and the guilt over Evan, but you had a code. 

The silence rang loud in your head, and you felt the weight of it, heavy and hollow, long after the monitors had flatlined. You had tried everything–you really had. The family’s faces flashed like echoes in your brain and every time you remembered them or the young girl on that hospital bed, your hands would shake and you wanted to vomit. 

You sat in an empty consult room, the door shut, staring blankly at the wall. You tried to breathe through the tightness in your chest, your hands gripping tightly to the edge of the bed. You should be out there, working, charting, doing anything else. Maybe that would keep your mind off what had just happened, but your legs felt like lead and you stayed rooted in that spot. 

You heard the door open behind you. 

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, not turning back to see who had come to check on you. The door clicked shut and you swallowed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your stomach dropped.

Robby.

You closed your eyes tightly, willing the burning in them to go away, before you turned to face him. His expression was tight, controlled in a way that told you he had been holding whatever it was in for a while. 

“Told you what?”

“The offer. You leaving.”

Of course, he knew. You exhaled, slowly and controlled, trying to keep your emotions in check. You were already in a bad mental state; you didn’t need it to get worse, and you knew this conversation was not headed in a good direction. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” you said, measuring your words. 

“But you’ve been thinking about it,” he pressed. 

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’m heavily considering it.”

You could see the words land. It was subtle, but you knew Robby enough to see it. His head tilted slightly to the right, and his mouth tightened. His face twitched for a moment, his nose and eyes scrunching up before he ran a hand through his hair. 

His eyes turned to steel and his jaw tightened. “Why?”

You breathed deeply. Control yourself. “It’s a great opportunity,” you said, nodding. “Better hours, better pay.” 

He huffed out a cynical, disbelieving laugh and gave you a look, his eyebrows raised. He wasn’t buying it. Not even a little. Your chest tightened. You knew it wouldn’t be enough to convince him. You knew you were trying to convince yourself. 

You shrugged, eyes shifting to the closed door behind him, needing to look away from his stare. 

You knew he’d take it personally because it was personal. Fuck it. 

“Come on, Robby,” you said, your voice thick now and you looked back at him. “We both know why.”

There was silence from him. 

“It’s hard for me to be around you,” you finally admitted. The words were raw and unfiltered, and once you said them, the floodgates opened, and you let out everything you had been holding onto with an iron grip. “I have feelings for you. I’m sure you already figured that out.”

His eyes softened, and he shuffled a step closer to you, but you took a step back from him. He stopped short, gaze heavy on you. 

“I don’t want to feel like this. I’m with Evan, and you were with Noelle, and you’re my boss. Everything is complicated. I don’t want to resent you, Robby. And I don’t want you to resent me. So I think the best thing for me to do is leave.” You took a deep breath, embarrassment and shame starting to fill you, and you looked away from his pleading eyes. “It’s what makes sense.”

The room felt too small. His presence loomed over you, filling the space with a heavy silence that roared loudly in your ears. You looked back at him, his eyes still glued to you.  

Robby stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes.

“So you’re running away,” he finally said.

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe he would have confessed his own feelings, maybe reassured you that things wouldn’t be complicated, comforted you over the rough day you were having. You would have broken up with Evan, and the two of you would be happy moving forward together. But he didn’t. He said you were running away, he was calling you a coward. The words hit a nerve you hadn’t realized was as exposed as it was. 

Your head snapped up, anger filling you. “Yeah,” you fired back. “You’d know all about that.”

The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. He reeled back, eyes looking at you like he had never seen you before. But you didn’t take the words back. You didn’t apologize. 

“What?”

“You leaving on your sabbatical, pretending you were okay. We all saw right through you, Robby. You couldn’t handle things, so you ran away like a coward.” The word vomit was hard to stop, and after every word, every syllable, you pleaded with yourself to shut up. But all the repressed feelings, all the heartbreak, were bubbling to the surface and overflowing. 

“How fucking dare you?” He took a massive step towards you, his face so close to yours that you were breathing the same air. “That’s different, and you know it.”

“How?” you spat out. 

Robby exhaled sharply. “I needed time away. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“I think I’m making the right choice, too. Maybe I need to be away from here, too. Away from you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything that night before I left?” he demanded. “If you felt like this, why didn’t you just say it?”

Your chest tightened painfully. He knew what you were going to say that night. The realization hit you hard in the gut, and you tried your best not to let it show on your face. 

“I was going to. Until I saw you with Noelle.”

Robby’s brow furrowed. “That was nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Right.”

“It was,” he insisted. “You could’ve said something before that.”

“Oh, please,” you snapped, the frustration spilling over now, clear as day on your face as you snarled at him. “She was your three-month fix. Everyone knows your pattern. When exactly was I supposed to say anything? During Patricia? Rebecca?”

His expression hardened. “I get it.”

“When I saw Noelle, I realized things wouldn’t change. I didn’t want to be the next in line,” you finished. 

Silence crashed down between you.

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low. 

“Isn’t it?” you challenged. “You bounce from person to person, and I’m supposed to believe I’d be different? That if I made myself vulnerable for you, that you would change overnight into someone who wanted to commit?”

“I don’t do that anymore,” he said, his voice louder now. “And the only reason I ever did—” He cut himself off, and sighed, hands rising to rub the back of his neck in agitation. “The only reason I did is because I was afraid of what I felt for you.”

Your breath caught in your lungs.

“You wouldn’t have been a fix,” he added, quieter now. “It would’ve never been like that with you.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly. “That’s easy to say now.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Maybe a part of me believed that before. Maybe that’s why I decided I was going tell you that night. But not anymore. You don’t get to decide that after the fact,” you said, voice cracking. “You don’t get to rewrite it because it’s convenient.” 

“I’m not rewriting anything,” he snapped. “I’m telling you what I felt.”

“And what does that change?” you asked, tears burning in your eyes now. “You still left.”

“I didn’t know! And you’re the one running away now,” he fired back. 

The words hit harder than they should have, because he was right. He practically admitted he had feelings for you, and you were still leaving. Maybe it could be easy, but the words echoed in your head. I’m telling you what I felt. Felt. You never had him, and you never would. 

You both fell silent for a moment. Your breathing was uneven, and a tear finally escaped. You saw his hand twitch, almost as if he was going to wipe it away, but he didn’t. 

“I thought…” you started, then stopped, swallowing hard. “I thought if you felt the same way, you would’ve said something first. That you wouldn’t fall into someone else’s bed so easily.”

He was silent, and your chest ached painfully. The distance felt impossibly large now; a chasm wedged deeply between the two of you. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, voice breaking, and the tears kept falling. “I can’t keep standing here wondering what this is, what it could’ve been, what we missed.”

Robby’s expression softened, and he whispered your name, but it was too late. The damage was already there.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for me,” you continued. 

“And leaving is the only option?” he asked, and he sounded almost as broken as you felt inside.

“I can’t be around you,” you said. “It hurts too much. It’s the only option that makes sense.”

It was the only option that made sense. Even if it made everything inside of you scream with agony. Even if it felt like you were giving up. You had called him a coward, but maybe you were just projecting. And still–it was the only option that made sense. 

Silence settled again, heavy and final. 

Robby nodded slowly, forcing himself to accept something he didn’t agree with.

“Okay,” he said. The words felt wrong–too easy, too empty and you hated it. You hated that you hurt him. You hated that he hurt you too. You hated that you desperately wished that he would fight harder for you. But you were too tired, too burned out, and your heart too raw to even try. 

“Okay,” you echoed, even though it wasn’t okay at all. 

He lingered for a second longer, like he had more to say, like he couldn’t look away from you because it would be too hard. But he didn’t say anything. He never did. 

He turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a devastating finality. And you were left standing there, chest tight, eyes swollen and teary, the weight of everything pressing down at once.

The humiliation from earlier. The tension with Evan. The patient. The fight. Robby. 

By the time you finally moved, it was only because you had to, not because anything was resolved. Nothing ever was with him. 

It seemed that whenever your life went bad, the universe decided to make it even worse. 

Your apartment was quiet that night. Evan sat in front of you at the dinner table, but your eyes remained glued to the plate in front of you. You had barely touched it, your appetite completely gone. It was barely eight, and at this time, you would normally be found yapping away about your day, smiling and giggling at your boyfriend. But not that night. 

Evan watched you for a long moment, like he was building up the courage to say something. When he finally did, a part of you wanted to shrivel up and die, for the earth beneath you to open up and swallow you whole.

“You love him,” he said. There was no anger in his voice, no accusation being levied against you. He was simply stating a fact, something he knew to be true without anyone having to say anything. He noticed the way your energy shifted when Robby’s name came up. The way your eyes followed him without meaning to. The way you went quiet after interacting with him, like you were holding something fragile inside your chest.

It made your heart drop lower than it already was. 

You shook your head instinctively, tears of shame coming too easily. “Evan—“. You stopped yourself, unsure of what to say and your breath heaved. 

“Hey,” he said, rising from his seat and approaching you gently. He kneeled in front of you, his hands reaching forward to hold yours, and he squeezed them in a gentle assurance. “It’s okay. You don’t have to lie to spare me.”

The tears escaped, and your heart was beating way too hard, making it difficult to breathe properly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” he said softly. One of his hands went to the back of your head, gently running his fingers through your hair in an attempt to calm you down, but it only made you feel worse. “I know you wanted to make this work.”

Your throat was tight, too tight to force any words out, so you just nodded through the tears. 

“I think that if he wasn’t in the picture, it might have.” That statement hurt you more than anything. You sobbed louder, raising your hands to cover your face in shame, but you didn’t deny it. His hand ran down your spine in comfort. 

“You look at him differently,” he said. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked at me that way. And I need someone who’s all in. And so do you.” He was being gentle with you and the shame you felt was nearly overwhelming you. He was the one getting hurt, the one whose trust you betrayed, and yet he was the one comforting you. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” you sobbed out, face hiding in your hands. 

“Dragging this out would hurt me more,” he said gently. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said and you knew you were hyperventilating. He gently ran his hand down your back and helped you focus on his breathing, trying to calm you down. It was a few minutes of that, of you calming down enough to be able to breathe properly. Your face felt swollen and you knew your eyes were probably red and puffy. 

“You deserve so much better,” you said, shaking your head. Disappointed in yourself. You thought he was right. If Robby hadn’t been in the picture, you would’ve so easily fallen in love with him.

He shook his head. “We both deserve someone who loves us fully.” You sat in silence at that, the words seeping into your brain. 

“I guess there’s nothing holding me back here,” you finally said. 

“Isn’t there?”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think there’s a chance there. Not anymore. And I might be leaving. Things just got so complicated,” you sighed. Evan squeezed your hand and you looked into his calm, blue eyes.

“I think you know where your heart is,” he said. You closed your eyes briefly, the truth settling into your chest like a ton of lead, heavy and inevitable. “I don’t think the decision is as hard as you think it might be. But you need to figure it out. You need to make your choice.”

And just like that, he let you go with a grace you didn’t deserve. He left after that, leaving you in a silent apartment. The air conditioning hummed, the only sound that filled your ears as you sat on your couch, your mind moving a million miles a minute. 

When had you lost control of every aspect of your life? Today was a bad day–the worst one in a long time. One where everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong. Robby and you started speaking again, tentatively and carefully, he had even defended you. But then he found out about you potentially leaving. You got in a fight. Evan left you. It was a shitshow. 

It was the most alone you felt. The knot at the back of your throat grew again, the tears slipping past your blurred vision and you didn’t think before you got up, grabbing your keys, and made your way to the bar three blocks down. 

The soft, jukebox music was nearly drowned out by the loud chatter from the pool tables. You sat at the corner of the bar, alone and surely a sad sight for anyone that looked over. Your eyes were fixated on the glass of whisky in front of you. You had taken a sip, the alcohol burning down your throat and grimaced, wondering why in the fuck you had ordered whisky when you didn’t even like it. Maybe it was from some masochistic need to make yourself suffer as much physically as you were mentally. Maybe it was because a subconscious part of you knew it was Robby’s drink of choice. 

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut and hanging your head at the thought of him. 

How did everything get so fucked? You had everything lined up perfectly. A new job with great pay was presented to you on a silver platter. You had an incredible, attractive, kind boyfriend. And yet…you loved working at PTMC. You loved the chaos and thrived on the adrenaline. You loved the people. You loved Robby. And no matter how attentive or sweet or perfect Evan was, he just wasn’t him. 

The seat next to you filled, a shadow slipping over you and you sighed. All you wanted right then was to be left alone. You didn’t want to deal with some drunk reveler who would find it difficult to take no for an answer. You turned, ready to tell the stranger to fuck off, but the person sitting there, smiling gently at you was a shock to your system. 

Noelle. 

She looked beautiful, as she always did and a small part of you felt even worse at that. A short black dress hugged her figure like it was made for her and her hair was perfectly curled. You shifted, suddenly conscious of your day-old scrubs, probably covered in bodily fluids, and the messy bun on top of your head. You felt exhausted and you were sure your face showed it. 

“Oh, hi, Noelle,” you said. 

“I thought it was you,” she answered, smiling gently. The bartender approached the two of you and she smiled at him, ordering a cosmo for herself. 

You couldn’t think of anything to say, and found yourself blurting the first thing that came to your mind. “Come here often?”

She laughed slightly and looked back at you. 

“I’m here with a few friends. Figured I’d come say hi.” She peered closer at you, her eyes examining you in a way that made you feel like she could read every thought in your mind. 

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you, it just gets so busy at the hospital. I’m glad I ran into you here,” she said. “Happy coincidence.”

Happy coincidence–yeah, right. Your stomach tightened and you wanted the earth to open up and sink you down to the core. You wanted to disappear off the face of the planet. Maybe you would try applying to a hospital far, far away. California was nice, you heard. Maybe even Alaska. Wasn’t there some kind of tax benefit for living there?

You cleared your throat, willing your straying thoughts away. “About what?” you asked, hesitant. 

The bartender placed the drink in front of her and she took a sip before looking back at you. “About Robby.”

You froze, your fingers tightening around the hard glass of the drink in front of you just to have something to occupy your shaking hands.

“I’m not sure what happened there, Noelle,” you said honestly. “But I’m sorry if I–”

She cut you off, waving a hand out. “That’s not what this is.”

You blinked, thrown for a loop and confusion settled deep. You didn’t know what to say, so you waited for her to continue. 

She sighed, breaking eye contact and took another, larger sip of her drink. 

“I saw that breakup coming from a mile away.”

The three-month fix. It was an unspoken rumor at the hospital, one that you were sure the woman sitting next to you had heard about and possibly been warned about in the past. 

“What does that have to do with me?”

She looked at you, an eyebrow raised. “Come on, doc. We both know the answer to that. The way he looks at you? I never noticed until I walked in on the two of you the night he left. I knew nothing happened, but I felt so angry. So inadequate. I gave him shit for it and he denied it, but I know what I saw. I realized then why he could never give himself over to me emotionally–not the way I wanted or needed him to. He looks at you like he loves you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, anxiety swirling in your gut at her words. You hadn’t imagined it, then. Everything leading up to that moment in the breakroom, right before your heart shattered in your chest–the soft glances and shy smiles and quiet moments of closeness were not one-sided. His words from earlier echoed in your mind, like a rewinding tape. “I was afraid of what I felt for you.” He was being honest with you, he was opening up to you then and you shut him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, not knowing what else you could tell her to make her feel better. “I never meant to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. Feelings are complicated.” She took another sip from her cosmo while your whisky sat untouched on the wooden counter in front of you. She looked at you, her brown eyes shining in the dim, twinkling lights of the bar and her expression was serious and earnest.

She said your name before continuing. “I don’t blame you for what happened with me and Robby. I don’t think it was anyone’s fault. Except maybe his.” You both chuckled quietly at that. “I ended up resenting him by the end, until I finally accepted that I wasn’t the one he really wanted. Don’t do what we did. Don’t wait until it’s over to be honest with each other.”

You sighed, thinking back to the argument you had with Robby. 

“I think it may be too late for that. I don’t think there’s a chance there anymore.” Your gaze shifted back to the full glass and you sighed in resignation. 

She placed her hand gently on your shoulder and you looked back at her. “If I’m right–and I usually am–that man is crazy about you. I think there’s more of a chance there than you think.”

She stood, grabbing her drink. “Go home,” she said, placing a twenty in front of your drink and gesturing to the bartender. “You look like you’re about to pass out from exhaustion. And just…think about what I said, okay?”

You nodded, and her answering smile was almost sad, before you turned and walked back to her group of friends. 

You sat there for a moment, thoughts racing in your head and heart thumping hard in your chest, before you stood and headed back to your apartment. 

Dawn came quickly after a short night of restless sleep and you woke up to the shrill sound of your phone alarm blaring in your ear. You instantly regretted going out the previous night. The late night coupled with the emotional turmoil you felt made the exhaustion so heavy in your bones that you heavily considered calling out, which you had never done unless you had been seriously ill. 

You laid in the comforting warmth of your bed for a moment, staring at the oscillating fan on your ceiling. You counted to five slowly before forcing yourself up and going through the motions of getting ready for the day. 

You started to make yourself a coffee, black and strong, knowing that it would be a heavily caffeinated day, but stopped short when you grabbed the mug from your cabinet. It wasn’t anything special, just a mug–white, with the phrase “residency sucks” printed on it–but Robby had given it to you. He had gotten you for Secret Santa the previous December, and there had been several gag gifts leading up to the actual gift exchange, including the mug. It was stupid and silly, and it would have normally lived in the back of your cabinet until you forgot about it completely, but Robby had gifted it to you. It felt special. It was the mug you found yourself reaching for nearly every morning, a small part of you feeling closer to the man who seemed further away than ever before. 

Your thoughts drifted to him–his gentle, sad brown eyes and how upset he had been at the thought of you leaving. And despite your hurt pride, you realized that he was right. You were running away. And it wouldn’t fix anything. In fact, it would probably make the both of you more miserable. 

You sighed, chugging the dark drink quickly and made your way out of your apartment. Your thoughts kept drifting to him on your walk to the hospital, and you knew that Evan was right. You had to make your choice. There could be no more waiting or procrastinating. You were either going to risk it all, forgive him for the past two months and build something new with him, or you were going to leave. Both choices scared the shit out of you, but only one made your heart leap with unbridled hope. Only one choice was the right one in your heart. 

You walked in through the ambulance bay, avoiding the building crowd in the waiting room, and your eyes immediately drifted to him. He was standing at a computer, glasses perched on his nose, and you found him already looking at you. The space between your gazes was charged, unspoken words lingering between the two of you.

A part of you wanted to cower away, but you didn’t and neither did he. You stared at him and decided then and there. No more almosts. You needed closure. Whether it completely ended whatever this thing was between the two of you and you could finally move on, or whether you got everything you could selfishly wish for. Time had run out and you were not about to make a coward’s choice. 

You took a deep breath, approaching him. The scent of his cologne invaded your senses and you almost purred at the comfort that being this close to him brought you. 

“I need to talk to you.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Is it about a patient or work related?”

You tilted your head, your remaining fixed on him. “No.”

He sighed, resigned, and then nodded. “Fine, we can talk later tonight. Let’s try to focus on work for now.”

You sighed, but relented, knowing he was right. “Okay, we’ll talk later.”

He was avoiding you. He knew that you could tell, if the looks you were shooting at him all day were any indication, but if he was honest with himself, he was terrified to speak with you. He had no idea what intentions you had, whether you were going to tell him you were never coming back and never wanted to see him again, or…

He stopped his thoughts short, unwilling to even think about the other possibility. The thought of that–of him having you, loving you–was nothing but a fantasy he dreamed up every night and he refused to give himself any false hope. 

He knew he needed to apologize for his reaction yesterday, knew that you were conflicted and scared and hurt and the things he had said didn’t make anything better. But he was a coward, foolishly in love with one of his residents, and so he was avoiding you. 

You were in a patient’s room and he finally sighed with relief, making his way to the nurses’ station to finally catch up on his charting while he had the chance. Dana was there, looking over some paperwork and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Any updates on our girl leaving?”

He sighed at the reminder and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Hm, I thought there might’ve been since you’ve been avoiding her all day.”

Robby looked at Dana then, an incredulous expression on his face. “What? I’m not avoiding her.”

She barked out a laugh. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

He looked back down to the screen in front of him, trying to focus, but his thoughts were too jumbled. He sighed in frustration and ran both hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yeah, I think you do, you’re just too scared to do it.”

“Dana–” he started, but she cut him off and fixed him with hard look.  

“If you let her leave without being honest with her, you’re an idiot. But you already know that. You’re in love with that girl and she’s in love with you. And whatever bullshit is going on right now between the two of you is just that–bullshit. You’re making each other miserable when you can just be honest with each other.”

He sighed, knowing his friend was right, but a part of him still hesitated. It wasn’t that simple. The offer was still in the way, the possibility of you leaving lingered in the air, and then there was the fact that you were dating Evan. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, or whatever the fuck the expression was. He stood in the patient room with Dr. Evan Greene as he was finishing up a consult. He tried to focus, and he caught the important information, like the tests that Dr. Greene needed to be done for the patient and all that, but his thoughts kept drifting to you and the man in front of him. 

Evan Greene was a good man; Robby didn’t doubt that. He had always been kind and respectful of him and the residents and enjoyed teaching them. He never reprimanded them when they got something wrong and had the patience of a saint. He was young and handsome, if the way the nurses drooled after him was any indication. He tried to be happy for you. He really did. But the bitter taste of jealousy and envy threatened to devour him from the inside out every time he looked at the man. 

Both men walked out together and Robby caught a glimpse of you as you spoke to Whitaker. You looked as beautiful as you always did, but the dark circles under your eyes were more prominent than usual and he didn’t fail to notice that you had drank two cups of coffee and were halfway through an energy drink and it was barely three in the afternoon. 

“Greene,” he said and the man turned his blue gaze to him. Robby tilted his head towards you. “You should take her out for a break. She looks exhausted.”

Evan’s eyes widened and a blush creped up his cheeks. He looked almost awkward, the most uncomfortable he had ever seen the man, and Robby paused at the expression. Had something happened?

Evan shook his head, tearing his eyes away from you and looking back at Robby. “Um, we broke up last night.”

Robby’s head snapped towards the younger man in shock. “What?” He hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Yeah, it was kind of a mutual thing. I just realized she could never give herself fully to me.” He paused for a moment, hesitating before continuing. “Because of you.”

Robby’s spine straightened. “Excuse me?”

“She’s in love with you. Has been for a while. And after you left, I felt like I finally had a chance. She asked me out, and how could I say no? She’s gorgeous, and smart, and funny. But when you came back, I realized the truth. I never had a chance.”

Robby stayed silent, thoughts racing in every direction.

“She’s a gem,” Evan continued. “And you’re one lucky son of a bitch. Don’t fuck it up with her.”

He walked away then, leaving Robby stewing in his thoughts. Something dropped heavily in his chest, like a rock being thrown into a pond, and he felt something click in his mind, then. Nothing was standing in the way of you and him now. That offer letter was still on the table, but you hadn’t officially accepted anything and he wasn’t about to be the reason you left. The hesitation and anguish that clouded every thought of you for the past few weeks cleared away, a sudden clarity opening the path forward. A path he hadn’t allowed himself to think about. A path where he chose his happiness, where he chose you. 

He would speak with you that night and he was going to make sure you knew exactly where he stood with you. What he wanted with you and what you meant to him. He would tell you exactly how much the past few months had been torture because he loved you so much but felt like he couldn’t have you. But now–he was going to let himself have you. He was going to let himself open that door if that was what you wanted, too. 

He watched as you walked away from Whitaker. Almost as if you had sensed him, you glanced back, your eyes meeting his. They looked sad and tired, but determined. He wasn’t quite sure what you saw in his, but your back straightened and your mouth opened slightly, like you were going to say something, but didn’t. He smiled at you, and you blinked, quickly looking away and headed towards a computer to chart. 

He didn’t look away and as you sat, you looked back at him once more, quickly turning away when you caught him. He smiled again to himself and turned, walking towards a patient room. Tonight. He would speak to you tonight. 

A part of you was unnerved and another was confused. He was looking at you again. Staring, more like it and the look in his eyes didn’t scream scared or sad. His expression was calm and deep and open. Your heart thundered in your chest, wondering what happened, what changed in the past few hours, why he was looking at you like that. 

Not that you minded. Everytime your gazes met, he would smile, giving you a look that made butterflies erupt low in your belly and your heart fill with more hope than you knew what to do with. 

You imagined it would always be hard with him. But this–this ease that seemed to seep into the both of you with barely a word spoken between the two of you was unexpected. You liked it a lot. 

The day passed quicker than usual, and you were thankful. Only the adrenaline of the impending conversation kept you upright. You saw Abbot come in and glanced around, looking for Robby. 

A throat cleared behind you and you turned, your heart jumping in your chest. 

“Hi,” you said. 

He smiled. And, god, you felt like melting. He had such a beautiful smile. “Hey.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a paused moment. 

“Let me debrief with Abbot, then we can talk, okay? Meet me on the roof?”

You nodded, and as he walked past you his hand brushed softly against yours. You glanced at him, unsure if it had been an accident, but he was already staring at you, the corners of his mouth lifted. 

You swallowed before speaking. “See you there.”

You made it to the roof, the cold breeze brushing past your face. Winter was approaching and even the smell of the crisp air was changing. You huffed a breath out, steeling yourself for what was about to come. Closure. For better or worse, this was it. No more beating around the bush, no more avoidance. Just you and Robby. 

The heavy metal door opened and then slammed shut. His footsteps echoed as he approached you and you took your eyes off the skyline and turned to face him. The setting sun set everything alight in golden hues and as he got closer, his eyes shined like molten gold. You almost sighed at the dreamy sight. 

You stood staring at each other for a moment before he spoke. 

“This isn’t going to go like last time. Not again,” he said, gesturing between the two of you. 

You nodded. “Agreed. All I want is for us to finally be honest with each other.”

“Me, too.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Well, that’s not all I want,” he said and took a step closer. You swallowed, nervous, but a spark of anticipation lit within you at his boldness. 

You huffed out a laugh and smirked at him. “We’ll see.”

He chuckled, looking down and shaking his head before looking back at you. 

He turned serious and he spoke again, his voice raspy. “I can’t let you go without saying this. You almost did before, and I knew what you were going to say then because I felt it, too. I’ve gone over that conversation a million times, because I know there was so much that was left unsaid and it kills me to know that. I was a coward. I was scared that if I’d reach for you, I’d ruin you. Or myself. Or both of us. So I looked for something that could make me feel something anywhere else, with women I could never see a future with because every time I tried to picture it, all I could ever see was your face.”

You swallowed, burning behind your eyes, but didn’t dare speak since he looked like he had more to say. You took a  step closer, close enough that you could smell his faded cologne and feel his soft breath on your skin and the warmth emanating from him.  

“I don’t want you to leave,” he continued, his voice rougher and deeper, like he was trying to hold back tears. 

“I don’t want to leave either,” you finally said, your voice low and quiet. 

His chest rose a little faster at that and his eyes stayed glued to yours, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he even blinked. The air shifted again between the two of you. There was no interruption waiting behind the break room door. No argument or anger or resentment brewing in an empty patient room. No excuses left for either one of you. 

Just you and him and the setting sun behind the Pittsburgh skyline. 

“I love you,” he said and you let out a shaky breath. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he continued. “I should’ve told you a long time ago, but things were complicated. I couldn’t let myself admit it to you or to myself. I made myself think it was nothing, but I was wrong. Because it’s not nothing. It’s everything. You’re everything. You matter more to me than anyone.” 

His voice broke, a tear finally escaping his eye, and he hastily wiped it away. The burning sensation intensified in your eyes and you know he saw the tears waiting there. 

“I wish I had been as brave as you,” he said. “The night I left. You were going to tell me and I fucked it up like I fuck up most things. I got scared and I ran away. You were right in calling me a coward.”

You shook your head, hand reaching out to grab his and he let you. 

“No, Robby, I wasn’t. I’m so sorry. I never should’ve said the things that I did. I was hurt and I lashed out at you. You never owed me anything.”

His answering chuckle was shaky and watery. He pulled your hand up and pressed a kiss against the dry skin of your knuckles. 

“I think we both did things that hurt the other. Because we were cowards, afraid of what this thing between us could be. Because we felt like the timing was never right. But right now, there’s nothing holding me back from you. Is there something holding you back from me?”

The words landed between the two of you, undeniable, and your breath caught at the unbridled hope in his eyes. You took another step closer, so close that your chests almost pressed against each other, and felt another tear stream down your face. His other hand, large and rough, raised up and gently wiped the tear away, his fingers caressing the soft skin of your face. You shuttered a breath at the feel of him so close. Close enough that you could see every detail of his handsome face–the smile lines, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the hope and uncertainty and love in his eyes. 

“No,” you said. “Nothing. I don’t want any more what-ifs. I choose you, Robby.”

His breath shuttered and he closed his eyes in relief. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his nose gently brushing against yours and you smiled. His entire face softened–relief, disbelief, and something akin to wonder shining through the planes of his face. 

“I choose you, too. You’re all I want.”

A moment passed in silence, a beat of respite and acceptance.

“Stay. Please. The attending position is yours if you want it.”

You snickered in amusement. “Perks of being with the boss?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Please; that position has been yours for years. Dana and Abbot will have my ass if I let you leave.”

You giggled, hands raising to rest gently on his shoulders. His hands grasped the curve of your waist, pulling you closer and warming you from the chilly air.

“Okay,” you said. “Only because you begged a little.” 

“Brat,” he gritted out and you both laughed. 

“I guess you better start getting used to it,” you said. 

He smiled, eyes shining in true happiness and you didn’t think you’d ever seen him so openly blissful. 

“Happily.”

His hand lifted, hesitating just slightly, like he was still giving you enough space to pull away. You didn’t. The thought was unfathomable in your mind. 

Instead, you closed the remaining distance between the two of you. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his, and his large hand settled against your cheek, warm and steady. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was firm and real and soft, and made your heart explode in your chest. He kissed you like he was savoring you, and you felt your knees grow weak. You broke apart for a second, panting breaths mingling and smiles stretching across both of your faces, and then he leaned down again, his fingers sliding down your jaw and to your neck, and you relished in the feeling of finally being in his arms. Of finally being his. 

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