݁❀₊lia⋆𐙚 ˖°

You should’ve expected it was a non-seated wedding. You’ve worn the heels from morning for their holy matrimony, which is close to five hours. Sure, you had a gap to wait until the reception party, sitting in a cafe with Zayne while taking your shoes off.

You didn’t expect it would still hurt. Now, to endure the next three hours, you’ve been leaning onto Zayne and internally screaming you should’ve considered comfort over design when you bought it.

Oh, you don’t care about the eyes or whether you’ve been near the booth to wait in line for this molten lava cake behind both of you.

All you can think is that your feet are going to fall off any moment now.

It was one hour in. You’ve gotten spaghetti, the roasted duck, and the chocolate lava. Congratulated the couple, and you were back in the corner leaning against the wall while Zayne grabbed drinks for you.

That’s when he saw you barefoot on the carpet, giving up. Your pouting face didn’t help the case. 

“Alright, let me look.” 

You froze, didn’t realize he was back already. Accepting the glasses he handed you, he knelt to check. “Zaynie, your hands are going to be dirty—”

Your feet were red, striking a nerve on the outer when you leaned your weight on the other foot. Hissing in pain, you held onto his shoulder. 

“You’re not okay.” Zayne sighed, standing up. “Do you still want to stay?”

Well, you congratulated the couple. You’ve eaten—not enough, but there wasn’t any more interesting food you were willing to try.

“No…” You muttered. You felt awful for being needy. You should’ve enjoyed the party, mingling with your other friends. At least you greeted some of them whom you passed by while lining up for food.

“Let’s finish this and go, hm?” Zayne muttered softly, noticing your reluctance. He knew this look, where you feel guilty over something.

You downed your drink, placing it on a tray. You hadn’t expected Zayne to hoist you up to sit on his arm while he held your heels. Eyes widening, you held on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting us out. The car is floors away to get your spare footwear.”

“Spare footwear?” You repeated, blinking. You hadn’t even thought of bringing any, thinking you were wearing these for the rest of the day.

He hummed, walking past gawking guests while you hid your face in his hair. You were grateful the walk to the elevator was short—still, one of your friends snapped a picture. You could hear that laugh from anywhere. 

“This is embarrassing.”

“This is efficient.”

You snorted. “Aren’t I too heavy?” you asked, still holding on. You didn’t dislike it much, but you still felt bad. His arm could cramp.

“No, you’re not, my love.” Zayne bluntly said. “I don’t exercise for nothing.”

His hand pats your waist before reaching for his keys to unlock his car.

Ah, the journey went too short. Buckling you in the passenger seat, Zayne went to his trunk, switching your heels for sandals. You laughed when he presented them to you, pancakes-patterned sandals in your size.

“It is cute, yes?” He smiled, finally hearing your laughter.

“Thank you, Zaynie.” You grinned, leaning to peck his cheek.

“Should we get take-out on the way home? And ice cream.”

His offer made your eyes glimmer. How can he be so perfect? If you ask your parents for more food, they would only blame you for not eating much at the party.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you blurted out.

He only chuckles, starting the engine. 

“I know, my love. I love you too.”

Arriving home, out of the party outfits and straight to the shower. Zayne had iced your feet and massaged them while you ate take-out in bed afterwards. 

You hesitated when he offered to eat in bed, afraid to make a mess. But you didn’t move either when he was already at your feet, doing treatment while you fed him his ice cream.

You ended the day with a happy tummy and a full night of cuddling. Zayne was thankful for no shift the next day. You weren’t letting the panda hold off on him. 

went to a wedding last saturday. my feet hurt, wish i had a zayne for that just like this.

It seems like every single university student has had the same idea of deciding to reduce their carbon footprint today, with everyone cramped in the same bus that you are in.

After a few “excuse me's”, you find refuge in a less crowded area and lean against the wall whilst you wait for the bus to get to your stop.

With the automated voice announcing your stop, a large chunk of the crowd gets off and you finally have enough personal space for the first time in twenty minutes.

You step down the steps, with your phone in hand whilst you follow the online map on your phone. The next instruction from your phone's map is to cross the road and like the law abiding citizen you are, you wait at the pedestrian crossing until the little man at the traffic light turns green.

With the sound of loud beeping filling the street, you walk towards the opposite side of the crossing. The map orientates itself whilst you change direction and another loud, blaring sound fills your ears.

Looking up to the cause of the sound, a speedy white car drives towards you. Running towards safety, you check the little man at the crossing, only to see that he is happily glowing green without a care in the world.

So much for a good start to the first day of university.

Walking up to the entrance, your eyes scan the building walls for a sign showing all the information about the rooms in the building. But just as lady luck would have it, nothing of said sign is found.

With loud conversations coming at you from left and right and your patience running thin, you decide to spare yourself more pain and walk up to the nearest person, praying silently that they know where your room is.

“Excuse me?” You tap the shoulder of a tall, black haired student. “Do you know where lecture hall C5 is?”

“Sorry, do you mind repeating that? It’s hard to hear what you’re saying over all this noise.” He asks, bringing his ear closer to you.

“Do you know where lecture hall C5 is?” You repeat, making your voice louder.

“It’s on the fifth floor, get on the lift, take a left and you should get there.” The man points to a set of grey, shiny doors and you quickly thank him before running off into the lift.

The lift stops at the fifth floor after picking up and dropping off people at every single floor and as soon as the doors open, you squeeze past others on the lift, mumbling a few apologies before dashing to the left to get to your room.

Doors are plastered with signs that all begin with E, but no C5. You do a quick 360 degree spin, only to be met with more rooms that are also E. Checking the time on your watch, you feel your heart sink knowing that the lecture has officially started.

There goes your chance at making a good first impression, you will forever be known as the student who was late on the first day. You sigh and walk back to the lift doors.

Your eyes wander and you find yourself finally looking at the information board. Level 3: lecture halls C1 to C31. Better late than never.

Heart pounding, you slowly open the door in an attempt to not draw attention to yourself but it betrays you, making a loud squeaking sound that proudly announces your presence. Bracing yourself for an embarrassing conversation with the professor in front of the whole class, you anxiously hold your breath.

But the professor says nothing, only staring at you with their eyebrow raised at your terrible punctuality before continuing on about something to do with what textbooks they recommend borrowing from the library.

Your eyes search the area for a free seat, finding one at the opposite end of the row that you're standing next to. “Excuse me, sorry, can I get through please?” You quietly ask, feeling the embarrassment wash over you.

The person looks up to face you, and all embarrassment is quickly replaced with anger. It’s the guy who gave the wrong directions to this room.

He shakes his head, frowning at you before grabbing his backpack to make space for you to squeeze through the little space for you to get to the free seat at the end of the row.

What kind of ass of a person gives someone the wrong directions and proceeds to act cocky?

Making it to the end of the row, you sit down on the free chair with a growing feeling that you found someone to keep an eye out for.

The hour quickly ends, filled with what to expect during the upcoming academic year, to who you can go to if you need any extra support. Everyone makes a beeline for the exit, eager to make friends on the first day.

But you? You follow the person who has ruined the first impression that the professor has of you.

Petty? Without a doubt. But extremely necessary.

“Excuse me?” You tap the shoulder of a familiar black buttoned up man who turns around. “I understand medical school is competitive and all, but don't you think it's completely unnecessary to purposely lead a fellow medical student to the wrong room on the very first day?”

“I'm sorry, but were you not the person who asked a fellow student for directions? Don't you think you should have asked a receptionist or at least have better observational skills on an important day like this? Maybe then, you wouldn't have needed to ask me in such a crowded corridor and misheard me.” He sighs.

“It might be difficult for you to believe, but I am not the type of person who would purposely sabotage someone else over a matter like this.” Despite this being your second conversation with him, you tell that he was being genuine.

But you’re too far deep into hating him. “Well then,” You glance at the name tag stuck on his chest.

“Zayne Li. Why did you shake your head at me when I came in late?” You cross your arms over your chest. “How am I meant to believe you? This is our second conversation after all. How are you going to prove it?”

“I had a neck cramp. But if you don't believe me, then that's on you. I know that I’m right and somewhere deep down, you know it too. Now if you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” He says, adjusting his backpack straps and makes his way to the exit.

“Does anyone have any questions?” The professor asks, pulling the microphone away from her mouth but not quick enough for a quiet sigh to reach the speakers.

The rest of the class groan and some place their heads on the desks, as they prepare themselves to stay back for an extra ten minutes.

Your hand shoots up quickly and you try to find a certain someone’s hand somewhere in the large crowd of people. The professor gestures for you to ask first. “Do you have any extra resources that you recommend for extra reading?”

“Yes, it will be attached to the email when I send out next week’s readings.” She says and points to Zayne.

“Do you know of any recent research papers that I could look through?”

“I will email them to you separately.” The professor sits down on the chair, making it very obvious that she is going to have an incoming headache.

You raise your hand. “Yes Y/n, I will email you the same thing.” You meekly lower your hand.

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Will there be an opportunity for extra credit?” Zayne asks, and the professor shakes her head and dismisses everyone in the lecture hall.

You grab your bag and find Simone and Tara in the swarm of people, making your way to the exit of the hall. “I don’t understand, why does he keep trying to one-up me?” Tara pats your shoulder comfortingly and Simone just sighs.

“Did I just hear you say that you didn't understand something, L/n?” Zayne approaches you with what seems to be amusement.

The stupid expression on his face is practically begging for you to slap it right off.

“What on earth do you want, Li?” You look at him, clearly annoyed. “Why are you even here in the first place? Don't you have to be in the library or something?”

“I do actually, why? Are you that interested in me to the point where you know my schedule down to the second?” He replies, clearly amused at your expression.

“Bold of you to assume that I would pay that much interest towards you.” You scoff. “I just know that your antisocial ass willingly locks yourself in the library until the librarian kicks you out of the building.”

“Glad to know that I spend more time studying than you. Clearly, I know where my priorities lie.” Zayne replies.

“That's because you study inefficiently. A lecture that would take you four hours would take me less than half the amount of time to learn. Besides, I actually have a life outside studying. Speaking of which,” You check your phone for the time. “we have to go to make the lunch reservation we made!” Tara and Simone look at you wide eyed, completely forgetting about your shared lunch plans.

Zayne stares as you quickly forget about him, walking away with Simone and Tara chatting about the restaurant’s new seasonal menu.

You sit in the massive lecture hall, your laptop sitting on the desk, bright as a flashlight in order to keep yourself from falling asleep in the lecture. Tara sits on your left, shopping online for crystals and tarot cards whilst Simone somehow plays a random RPG game with the volume muted.

“We have a simulated case to end this lecture.” Your ears perk up. “Patient is a female, two years old and has been diagnosed with ADHD and has come in with her parents over concerns of a deviated eye. What test would you do after a case history is done?”

You raise your hand without any hesitation, keen to be the first one to get the answer right. The professor points towards you. “You would do a cover test first.”

“Yes, you could do a cover test first. Is there anyone else with another answer?” Your professor asks the rest of the class whilst you tilt your head in confusion. What other test would you do first apart from cover test?

“You could test their visual acuity.” You hear a familiar voice that never fails to get your blood pressure rising.

“Yes, you could do a visual acuity test first, Zayne.” You shake your head in disbelief. “Y/n, can you explain why you believe that a cover test should be done first?”

You clear your throat, “The results from the cover test would help confirm if the patient actually has a deviated eye or if it could be pseudostrabismus. In the case that the patient did have a deviated eye, it may help with expectations about what their visual acuity could be.”

Your professor nods, her hair bouncing as her head moves. “Zayne? What do you think?”

“Doing a visual acuity test can help with predictions about what you are roughly able to expect in a cover test, predicting which eye is the non-fixing eye. The patient has ADHD and is young, so it may be more beneficial to do the visual acuity test whilst they are cooperative.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Do you have any counterpoints to Zayne's point, Y/n?” You nod, smiley politely in response before staring down the insane maniac across the lecture hall who thinks doing a visual acuity test should be done first.

“It is imperative that you understand if the patient truly has a deviation.” You cross your arms over your chest.

You take a deep breath in, trying to not let Zayne's foolish and idiotic words get the best of you. “If the patient does lose focus and cooperation, you will be able to get a vague estimation of their visual acuity using a photoscreener.”

From across the hall, you notice him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It only makes you straighten your shoulders proudly in victory.

“Alright. I can tell that you are both very passionate about this, however if you do want to continue this, please do so in your spare time. The varied answers suggest that you can do either of the tests first, as long as you have the evidence to back up your point. That ends this lecture today everyone, I will see you next week.”

You shove your laptop into your bag completely leaving behind Simone and Tara, keen on finding the man who enjoys sending you into an academic rage. He stands outside the door to the lecture hall, absentmindedly checking the time on his watch.

“So as a practitioner, you would do the visual acuity test first. Interesting. Definitely a unique way of doing an appointment with a patient.” You say, and he looks up from his shiny watch.

“I didn't explicitly say I would do the visual acuity test first— I was simply answering the professor's question. But if we are assuming that I would do a visual acuity test over a cover test, then yes, I do see the benefits. Using the photoscreener can only get you so far, as it is a vague estimation meaning that the results it produces will not be one hundred percent correct. Just like you mentioned earlier.”

Motherfucker is putting the words into my mouth.

“Why get a vague estimation when you can get reliable results?”

“As long as you get both of the tests done before any other test and the results recorded, nobody is going to ask you which one you decided to do first!” You hear a familiar rushed voice and turning around, you see Tara and Simone who look like they could use a week long holiday.

“Now come on, Y/n! We have another lecture to get to in ten minutes!” Tara says whilst Simone gets a hold of your arm, ready to drag you around campus herself if needed.

“Okay, let me just say one more thing and then we can go.” Tara and Simone look at each other hesitantly before nodding. “Why do you enjoy making my academic life hell?” You ask, causing Zayne to press his lips together.

“Because you enjoy doing the same.” He replies ever so nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.

Unfortunately, you cannot fathom the fact that he is correct for once, so you bite your tongue whilst Simone proceeds to grab onto your arm and drag you like a doll to the next lecture.

The sound of people discussing their test scores fills the room, with some celebrating and other sighing in their seats. Your hands become damp with sweat and you rub them against the material of your trousers underneath the table.

The professor hands you your test, a smile graced on her face. “Well done, Y/n. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you.” You take the test sheet, looking at the circled 99% at the top of the paper. She walks off, handing the next test to Zayne.

He smiles at her and his warm smile turns dark as he makes eye contact with you. It's filled with nothing but sarcasm and potential to scar an innocent child.

“If you haven't noticed, I gave out the tests from lowest to highest. If anyone has any questions, you can come to my office during office hours or email me. Enjoy your weekend, see you next Monday.” You sit in your seat, staring at the test sheet in denial.

How on earth did you manage to lose to Zayne? By one point?

Sighing, you fold your sheet into half before shoving it into your pocket and heading out the door as inconspicuously as possible.

“L/n.” You roll your eyes, recognising the pride in Zayne's voice instantly. “Getting 98 is an amazing score. You should be very proud of yourself.”

98? Turning around to face his smug face, you quickly glance at the sheet Zayne holds in his hand. 99.

“Actually, I got a 99. I didn't get a 98, Li.” You point to his sheet. “You got a 99 too. You should be very proud of yourself, what a great achievement!” You clasp your hands together, applauding for him.

The smug look on his face disappears, only to be replaced with a feeling you believe to be annoyance. “I see. We both got the highest score on the exam then. What question did you get wrong?” Flicking through the pages, you find the question marked wrong and show him.

“If a patient has nasal corneal reflections, they…” He reads, scanning the paper. “Do not have an esotropia.” He looks up. “They have an exotropia, obviously.”

“Obviously.” You reply, looking over to the side. “I just misread the answers. Now, show me your answers.”

Zayne hands you his paper and you grin when you find the question marked wrong. “Protanopia is caused by not enough energy being transduced or the complete absence of which cone pigment? You answered: M cones.” You laugh, covering it up as a bad cough.

“The answer is L cones. I just also happened to misread the answers too. I believe your mistake was much worse than mine. If a child with a limited attention span only let you do corneal reflections on them and you say they have an esotropia instead of an exotropia, it could cause confusion for other healthcare workers who will see their notes.”

“Yes, of course. If you order the wrong colour correcting glasses for a patient— imagine the distress on their face when they realise their doctor has made a mistake and they have to wait even longer to see full colour vision. Absolutely terrible.” Zayne sighs, taking back his test paper.

“Good thing we are still students, right?” You plaster a fake smile on your face. “We have so much to learn before treating our lovely patients, don't we?”

“Welcome to Akso Hospital!” A grey haired man says cheerfully, a smile adorned on his face.

“I understand that you may have many questions and your consultants will be able to explain without even breaking a sweat.” He chuckles and points to a group of senior doctors standing in front of you.

“When you arrived this morning, you were allocated a number and are now separated into groups. Each group represents a certain speciality, such as psychiatrists, dermatologists and so on. These are the people who you will be training with during your time at Akso, so get on their good side!” You turn around and face your fellow general surgeons, giving them a polite, friendly smile.

You make eye contact with a familiar green, hazel eyed man. Your smile immediately becomes stiff, as if your jaw has automatically clicked into place.

Zayne is in the same group as you. Zayne is going to be training with you.

A tall brown haired woman walks up to your group, smiles and introduces herself as the consultant general surgeon. “I understand that not all of you will be staying as general surgeons, as some of you will branch off into other surgical specialities after you complete your core surgical training. But I look forward to working with each and every one of you.”

You only have one year of this general surgeon training and then you go off into neurosurgery. One year is nothing.

The consultant leads the way to the shared office of all core training general surgeons, and shows important things: the uncomfortable beds you would sleep in during night shifts and the fancy coffee machine. She quickly leaves, letting everyone get to know each other.

You immediately turn around to face Zayne. “I really thought this would be a new chapter where you would not be in it. What are the chances we are both doing this core training together?” A fake smile is plastered on your face.

“Luckily, it’s only for a year since I’ll be going into neurosurgery after the training.”

“Good to know. I’ll be doing cardiac surgery after this year.” You nod, not wanting to contribute more to the extremely lacklustre conversation.

After making your rounds, you decide to spend time with the younger patients. To your surprise, Zayne is there too, busy tending to a stuffed penguin's injured wing.

You sit down on the round tea table where a little girl pours fake tea into her teacups for her plushies. “What’s your name, sweetheart? May I have some tea as well please?” She nods happily, eagerly passing you a teacup whilst introducing herself as Daisy.

You quickly learn she likes strawberries and she's very curious about being a doctor. “Dr L/n, is the brain or heart more important?”

“Well both are very important, but I think the brain is more important than the heart.” You reply and Daisy hums, going back to her teacups. Daisy gives you another teacup of tea but before your hand touches the handle, you hear footsteps making its way to the table.

You look up to the owner of the footsteps, only to see Zayne siting down at the table. “Daisy, can I tell you something?” He asks the little girl who nods in agreement. “Dr L/n is wrong about the brain being more important than the heart. I think that the heart is more important than the brain.”

What on earth is he doing?

“Really, Doctor Li? Why is the heart more important than the brain?” Daisy asks, very intrigued at this new opinion.

“The heart pumps blood to all of the important things in the body, like your lungs and your brain. If the heart doesn't pump your blood to the important places in your body, you’re going to get very tired very quickly.” Zayne says with a smile, specifically targeted at you.

If he wants to play this game, then I’ll fucking play along.

“Then Dr L/n, why do you think that the brain is more important than the heart?” Daisy looks up at you, completely unaware of this emotional tug-of-war she unintentionally created.

“Your brain is very smart Daisy! Your brain is always telling your heart to keep on pumping the blood to the rest of your body so you can stay healthy and strong.” You say, a smile plastered on your face as you look at Zayne.

“Your heart helps you show all the love you have for your friends and family. Do you feel happy when you give friends hugs?” Zayne asks, and Daisy agrees. “It’s your heart that tells you to be happy when you give your friends hugs.”

So he is playing the emotional card. Two can play at this game, Li.

“Daisy?” You call out her name and she averts her gaze to you. “Can you tell me about a fun day you had with your friends?”

“When me and my friends went to the park and we played at the playground all day!” She smiles happily.

“Well sweetheart, your brain remembers all the happy memories you have had with your friends. So whenever you feel sad, you can think about the fun day you had at the park and you will be happy again.” You say and Daisy runs off to find one of her friends.

“I guess the brain is more important than the heart.” You smirk at Zayne and stand up behind the tiny chair, ready to grab a coffee.

“Well if the brain stopped working and the heart kept pumping, at least you would still be alive.” Zayne replies casually, tucking his chair under the table.

“Alive, sure. But living like a normal person? No way in hell.” You say in a hushed tone, not trying to attract attention from the ever-so curious children in the room. “What would you do if you had no brain? You wouldn’t be able to learn about your silly little heart if you didn’t have anywhere to apply the knowledge to in the first place.”

“Well for someone who surely advocates for the brain, you clearly don’t use it enough. Whilst you were doing rounds earlier today, I overheard the consultant asking you why you forgot to bring a notepad along with you. How embarrassing.” He chuckles and you scowl at him.

Just as you were going to answer back, you notice Greyson and Yvonne, two of your fellow surgeons approach you and Zayne.

“Okay that’s enough arguing for the day. The kids are staring.” Yvonne holds your arm, leads you away from Zayne and into the office to calm down.

You sit near the nurses’ station, a cup of coffee nearby as you read the medical history of your next patient arriving in twenty minutes. The atmosphere is peaceful, the nurses are typing away on their keyboards and the sound of baby sensory videos can be heard from the waiting area.

As you bring the cup of coffee up to your lips, a loud voice interrupts the peace. “What do you mean I cannot donate my liver?” You turn around to check where the voice is coming from and see the sign that has Zayne’s name on it.

Muffled speech can be heard from Zayne, most likely trying to calm down an angry family member. The sound of a hand aggressively hitting the desk resonates throughout the floor, causing even the focused children to peel their eyes away from their dancing fruit videos.

The handle of the door opens, revealing a middle aged man who is far from happy. He makes his way over to the nurses station. “Get me another fucking doctor. This guy doesn't know shit. You doctors keep going on about how difficult it is to find a donor that matches but when a matching person comes along, it’s not possible to donate?” The nurses desperately try to calm him down, explaining to him that this is not the place for explicit language.

“Do I look like I’m playing around? I want another doctor!”

“Excuse me sir, what seems to be the problem?” Getting out of your seat, you make your way over to the nurses’ station, gripping onto your white coat like a lifeline.

“This guy told me I couldn't donate my liver to my sister who is on her deathbed!” He angrily points at Zayne who says nothing. “Please doctor, I just want to help her. Tell me I can donate my liver to her.” He pleads, his countenance softening ever so slightly.

“Is there a specific reason he can’t donate his liver?” You look at Zayne.

“He has a liver with a fifteen percent fat content. I have explained to him that the limit is ten percent, as any more can put the recipient at more risk.” Zayne sighs and you frown, immediately knowing that nothing can be done.

“I’m sorry sir, but Doctor Li is right. You may be able to donate in the future but you will have to decrease the fat content through lifestyle choices such as exercise, a balanced diet and refraining from alcohol.”

“All you doctors sound like a broken record! I thought this was the best hospital in the city and you can’t accept my liver? Fucking bullshit.” Over his shoulder, the security comes over and harshly grabs him.

“Let me go!” He tries escaping, only to be pulled away. “Just wait until my lawyer hears about this. I will sue this hospital so badly that the only medicine you will give is paracetamol!” The man shouts even louder until he’s no longer in sight.

You look at Zayne who sighs for the nth time today. “Penny for your thoughts?” He seems like he could need a helping hand, just this once.

“I just find it hard to empathise with people who behave in that manner. I understand that I am fortunate to have not been in a position like that in the past, but when a doctor tells you there is no loophole or way to work around it, isn't it time to face the truth?”

“Well, I think you’re looking at it from a medical personnel perspective. You're trying to face the problem as someone who is only able to give proper solutions. But have you tried facing the problem as someone who could lose a precious family member? You saw the way he softened when he mentioned how all he wanted to do was to help his sister. He just wants to do the best he can.”

“You’re right. Thank you.” Zayne concedes.

“It’s time for my next appointment. See you around.” You nod your head as a goodbye, walking off to your consultation room.

You close the door, setting up your desk for the next patient, trying to make it look presentable after rummaging through the mismatched files when a senior doctor requested an extra copy to read through before surgery.

With all the papers finally stacked into neat piles and tucked away into a corner to worry about later, the door opens with one of the nurses asking if you are ready.

You clear your throat and nod, bringing up the results of the patient as they come in. “Hello, Doctor L/n. It’s nice to see you again.” You look up and smile, making sure that Oliver feels comfortable in the chair.

“How have you been?” You ask, placing your hands on the desk.

“I've been doing well. I have been consistently taking my medication and I try my best to eat and sleep well.”

“That's great news to hear!” You reply, looking at the results on the computer in front of you. “The results from last week's blood results look great too, so there should be nothing to worry about. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I'm quite nervous. Like a kidney transplant is a big thing. I know I'll be in safe hands and all, but I just can't help but feel this sense of anxiety.” Oliver rubs his hands together nervously.

“It is not a minor surgery, that I can tell you with certainty. I can't confirm that everything will go smoothly since surgery is unpredictable but I will be in the room, assisting in the surgery and I will do my absolute best. The road to recovery may not be easy, but once you have fully recovered, the freedom will be like nothing else you have ever felt before.”

“Thank you, Doctor L/n. I trust you.” The words make your heart swell with a strange mix of pride and sadness.

Oliver is the same age as you and it feels like a sick twist of fate knowing that he has endured so much pain yet still does his best to carry on. If you were in the same situation as him, you wouldn't be half as calm and collected as he is.

He constantly brings sweet treats for the staff, ranging from brownies to cupcakes despite it being prohibited to accept any type of gifts from patients. No matter how hard you try to politely decline, Oliver refuses to take no for answer and threatens to stay longer at the hospital.

How could you make a man who spends almost all of his time at the hospital stay even longer? It's pretty unfair to say to other patients that you have favourites, but Oliver is definitely one of them.

“I will do my best to ensure that you trust in me never wavers.” You put on a smile, trying to stay professional despite the feeling of melancholy bloom.

“Considering that the test results look good, there should be no reason to push back the surgery. I will get the paperwork done and ensure that you are admitted for surgery next Monday. Of course, if you have any questions, please feel free to reach out to me or any member of staff.”

Finishing the last consultation of the shift, you close the door behind you and make your way to the shared office, only to see your fellow surgeons crowded near the door.

“Why are you guys all crowded around the door like chipmunks?” They all turn around, facing you as if they have just seen a ghost.

“You scared us! We thought you were someone important, you know, like the hospital director.”

“Geez, that’s nice to know. But you still haven't answered my question.”

“Zayne is listening to what the consultant has to say after the whole liver transplant thing from today.” Greyson says, and you peep through the small window to see him nodding as the consultant continues to talk.

“I need to go in.” You announce to the group whilst they stare at you like you have suggested to do surgery blindfolded.

“No way. Do you want to get yourself into trouble too?” They crowd around the handle of the door, preventing you from going in.

“I was there whilst it happened. Not for the whole thing, but I was the one the patient talked to after they requested another doctor to talk to. I need to hear what the consultant has to say, it’s not just his fault— it’s mine too.” One by one, the group hesitantly disperses.

You knock on the door. “Who is it?” The consultant asks, not taking her eyes off of Zayne.

“It’s Y/n. Can I come in, please?” The door opens in front of you. Zayne stares like a baby deer in headlights whilst you stand opposite the consultant.

“From what I’ve heard, you were also there whilst the patient’s outburst occurred. Can you tell me things from your side of the story?”

You give your side of the story, starting with the shouting in Zayne's room and ending with the threat of suing the hospital, with paracetamol being the only thing that could be administered to patients.

“Well, at least your stories match.” She sighs.

“Wait, before whatever punishment you give us, can I just say something?” You ask and she nods.

“I understand that the patient’s sibling has every right to be frustrated. But it doesn't excuse the fact that he was incredibly rude. Not just to us, but to the other staff too.”

“I’m not mad, you two. You did everything right. You handled it as well as you could have done. Personally, I don't think there should be any consequences. It’s only your second month working in this massive hospital after all. But tensions were high and many patients were scared of what could have happened next. Higher ups have received complaints. There’s a disciplinary meeting scheduled for tonight. I’ll be there as support. I won't let anything bad happen.”

“Thank you, Doctor Zhou.” Zayne says and you thank her too as she leaves the room. “You didn't need to come in, L/n.”

“I know, but it helps clear things up.” You fiddle with the sleeve of your scrubs.

“I could have handled it fine myself but thank you. For everything you’ve done today. You really didn't need to.” He coughs, an awkward air rising in the room.

“Of course. Just because we have some history doesn't mean we can't look out for each other, especially in moments like these.” You smile sheepishly.

The atmosphere becomes even more awkward, this feeling being uncharted territory between you and Zayne.

“Besides, suing the hospital is bad for both of us. I don't think I want to feel the wrath of patients when I tell them they can have paracetamol as their only form of pain relief.” You laugh, trying to deflect this weird feeling in your heart.

Walking out of the conference room, Doctor Zhou catches up with you. “How are you taking the news?”

“It’s a lot better than I thought it would be. Luckily the mandatory seminar about dealing with patient behaviour is only two hours and there’s no pay cut.”

“At least you managed to find the silver lining.” Doctor Zhou chuckles and excuses herself after getting a phone call.

“What about the mandatory shifts for next week?” Zayne asks, and you wince in response.

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to that. Might resort to downing just coffee powder.” You grimace, imagining yourself with dishevelled hair running on half an hour of sleep.

“It’s going to take a lot of self restraint to not shout at you in front of the entire ward when you do something that pushes my buttons.”

“Glad to know that the feeling is mutual.” Zayne bores his eyes into yours before walking away.

With the late hours of the night settling in, so does the orders and requests from other members of hospital staff. You step into the on call room, shrugging off your white coat on one of the chairs.

The door opens with your fellow colleagues ready to take a quick but very much needed nap. You slip off your shoes in front of one of the lower bed bunks and remove your hair clip.

“Doctor L/n. I'm really sorry but may I sleep on the bottom bunk?” You glance back to see Zayne, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry Doctor Li, but no. It feels like all of the life has been drained out of me by an energy seeking vampire. I quite literally do not have the body strength to climb the flimsy ladder up to the top bunk.”

“I understand that, but I think it would be best if I was to sleep on the bottom bunk. It's more convenient, I am taller and the lower bunk is longer— I can fully extend my legs only on the bottom bunk.” But before you can even open your mouth, he continues. “I have spent more time of this shift on my feet than you have, Doctor L/n.”

“I refuse to believe that, Doctor Li.” You hiss. “I'm sorry that you believe that you are more entitled to the bottom bunk, but I was assisting in a seven hour surgery this morning. I didn't even have the luxury to have my lunch, I was called into another surgery before I could even sit my ass down on a chair. Mind you, it's eleven in the evening so the last time I have put food in my system was over twelve hours ago.” You point to the ladder, gesturing for him to climb up it.

“You may have been assisting in multiple surgeries, but I had go over two dozen patient appointments today. Not to mention, I was tasked with fixing your patient charts because of how unorganised they were. So yes, I do believe I am entitled to the bottom bunk.” You roll your eyes, but with little reaction from Zayne due to the dim lighting in the room.

So what? He's been sat on a chair whilst you have been standing for hours on end. “I will sleep on the top bunk. Now please, save your voices. Fight each other at another time for all I care, go get some sleep.” A groggy voice complains.

Greyson hobbles out of bed and quietly murmurs about how you can both sleep on the bottom bunk before climbing up the ladder.

You quickly slot yourself between the gap of the bottom bunk, laying down on the bed as your back finally relaxes and the sound of Zayne sighing brings a tired grin on your face as he walks to the other bottom bunk bed.

“Eat.” You remove your hands from your head to see Zayne, tossing a sad sandwich on the table.

Having finished assisting in Oliver's surgery which lasted an extra two hours because of a complication, you don't have the energy to complain about how you don't even like mustard, gnawing at the sandwich.

You swallow dryly, the food passing through you like worn out sandpaper. “Why did you give me this?” You ask Zayne, who tears his tired gaze from his equally sad excuse of a sandwich.

“Everyone in the operating room could hear your stomach even when the suction was being used. You need to eat.” He says and you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in response.

You eat your sandwich, staring out of the window.

This is a first. For someone who was extremely determined to get the bottom bunk, it's like being with a completely different person. You always hear him going off on patient's about how important it is to eat well so that they have a faster recovery.

How strange.

Attending rounds whilst half asleep should be illegal. But you don't have a say in the rules, so you begrudgingly follow the rest of the surgical trainees as Doctor Zhou leads the rounds for the morning.

You have nobody but your phone to blame, the alarm on the stupid thing only went off twenty minutes before you had to arrive to the hospital. That and adding not having your daily cup of coffee to keep you functioning like a normal human, your eyes only get more droopier as the patients drift off into a silence to think about their pain levels.

The cases are quite easy to understand, so the only hard thing should be staying awake. “Doctor L/n, can you tell me anything you notice about this patient?” You barely recognise your name. feeling a slight nudge against your lower arm which jolts you awake.

Quickly scanning the room, you notice the relatively fast heartbeat on the monitor. “The patient has a heart rate of 120 beats per minute with an abnormal P wave following each QRS complex.”

“Yes, correct. Can you tell me exactly what kind of tachycardia this is?” She nods, ticking off something on her clipboard.

Your mind goes blank. Looking back to the monitor, you scan the screen in hopes it jogs your memory. What type of tachycardia? This is a question even a medical student can answer!

The hushed sound of scribbling against a notepad next to you is nothing but distracting. You feel another tap against your lower arm, and realise it's Zayne. He subtly brings the piece of paper towards you, and you read the words.

“Focal atrial tachycardia.” You answer and Doctor Zhou nods, moving on to thank the patient for their time and end the long hour of rounding.

Walking back to the break room, you immediately head to the table and grab a mocha pod to put into the coffee machine. Walking to the cupboard to get your mug, you notice Zayne fixing his sleeves in the mirror.

You should thank him for saving you out there. But you hesitate. Perhaps when not as many people are around.

Grabbing your mug, you close the cupboard door and walk to the coffee machine, placing your mug down as you insert the pod into the machine. The machine buzzes to life, pouring in the frothy liquid ever so slowly.

Zayne still stands in front of the mirror but your feet are unwilling to move. Every single cell inside of you is screaming to walk up to him. You walk up to him, thank him for saving you and walk back, simple. So why the hesitation?

The sound of the machine beeping brings you out of your trance and you turn off the machine before bringing the cup of coffee up to your lips.

Looking up, Zayne disappears. The usual sweet taste of the chocolate and coffee now tastes bitter, burning on your tongue. Perhaps another time.

“Come with me to the cafeteria.” You hear a tired voice ask beside you.

“Sure.” You get out of your seat, grabbing your white coat. Zayne walks slowly, purposely waiting for you before you both leave the office in silence. “So… why ask me to come to the cafeteria with you?”

“Am I not allowed to ask my fellow colleague to eat dinner with me?” Zayne looks at you and you both step foot into the cafeteria.

“No— this week has been an absolute whirlwind: running on energy drinks and three hours of sleep is not normal. I think I have the right to ask if I am sane or hallucinating.” The staff places two scoops of rice into your plate and you smile as a quiet thank you.

“Well, we only have two more shifts left this week. Hopefully we survive.” Another member of staff places some vegetables and meat alongside your rice and you move down the line.

“As long as nobody has a cardiac arrest of some sort, then I think we will be okay.” You walk off to the dessert area to get a cupcake with Zayne in tow.

“How were you not stopped by some member of staff for all the desserts on your plate?” You look at Zayne’s plate holding a cupcake and strategically placed macarons to ensure none go tumbling off his plate.

“Confidence.” He shrugs. “Do you happen to be the dessert police in disguise?”

“I will call them over if you don’t let me have one of your macarons. Where did you even find them?” You threaten jokingly.

“Over by the end of the counter. Nobody stops by the end of the counter because it stops the line from moving and everyone is hungry enough as is.” Zayne pushes his small dessert plate in front of you and gestures for you to take one.

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually letting me have one of your precious macarons?” You gasp.

“Why are you reacting as if I have announced I will be participating in the Olympics for the ice skating division?”

“It’s just unexpected. Everyone knows how much you love desserts.” You slowly take one of the macarons and place it next to your cupcake.

“You’re acting like I despise you.” Zayne shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth, acting like he hasn’t just set your brain into a spiral.

He is acting less hostile, in a sense. Maybe he actually doesn't despise me as much in comparison to medical school.

“I’m guessing from your confused expression that you’re wondering why I seem to tolerate being around you.”

“Are you a mind reader? Did you perhaps manage to evolve your evol into brain related functions too?” You exclaim, feeling somewhat exposed by his analysis.

“Unfortunately, no. How do you manage to make everything about the brain? You definitely chose the right speciality.” He questions and you continue to stare at him.

“Let’s backtrack a bit, mister cardiac surgeon-to-be. When did you suddenly get the ability to tolerate me?” You place your hands in front of him, clearly taken aback.

“When you asked me how I was feeling after the patient interaction on the liver transplant. I was just expecting you to just brush it off or question why he got into such a rowdy mood but you didn’t— you just listened.”

“I guess that was quite nice of me.” You pick at the food on your plate. “You know, it's definitely a lot easier to be around you and tolerate your presence.” Zayne tilts his head, confused.

“I guess you softened me up. I think it happened when you started offering me sandwiches. I hear you constantly nag at patients for not eating well because you just want the best for them. But that doesn't mean that all of the hate is gone, it’s a lot to go from hating each other's guts to acting somewhat civil with each other. This doesn't stop me from calling you an idiot whenever you deserve to be called one.”

“Noted. Now keep eating, your food is going to get cold.”

For what is probably the hundredth time this week, you read through another patient chart, making annotations of things to ask during the consultation on your worn-out notepad.

The last few hours of this horrendous one week shift finally approaches. But in true hospital fashion, the emergency button goes off and the nurses rush into the room, with you following close behind. Nurses quickly convince the family to leave, despite their loud pleas and cries to stay.

You turn to face the critical patient, ready to assess what the next step of action is but stop in your tracks. Oliver.

The feeling of dizziness suddenly overwhelms you, locking you in an unwelcoming hug that you can't seem to shake out of. You feel your knees buckle slightly, steadying yourself against some random piece of equipment.

It feels like the oxygen in the room and your lungs is quickly depleting, leaving you lightheaded and breathless. In a strong state of denial, you trying to snap yourself out of this state of helplessness, staggering to Oliver's bed.

Words come out of your mouth— probably some kind of weak attempt to bark orders at the nurses but they look at you in despair and confusion. “He's having a seizure. Can someone get me some lorezapam please?” A voice shouts out, slightly bringing you out of your daze.

The sound of loud rustling can be heard and you watch as the figure administer the drug. “Doctor L/n, can you hear me?” A warm hand is placed on the side of your upper arm and you muster up the strength to look up. Zayne. “Doctor L/n, Oliver needs you. I can't do this alone.” Flickering your eyes up at him, you notice the worry etched into his eyebrows.

But you don't have time to worry about it, especially not now. As if a switch was turned on, you snap out of your hazy state. “Remove anything tight that might restrict him.” The nurses nod and you hastily remove the blanket covering his body.

“Oliver, this is Doctor L/n. I'm here. You're at Akso Hospital and you're safe.” Oliver's movements stop shortly after, the lorezapam quickly going into effect.

You slowly get him into the recovery position and he slowly opens his eyes, blinking at you. He's okay. After going through the necessary checks post seizure, you leave the room and your back hits the wall. A stray tear escapes out of your eye and you hastily dab the ends of your sleeve to hide the wetness rolling down your cheek.

“This is all my fault.” You mutter under your breath.

“No it's not.” Shocked that someone heard your moment of self depreciation, your eyes flicker to the owner of the voice. “You did your best.”

“Even if it's not my fault, I lied to Oliver. I told him that I would do my best. What I did back in there was not my best. Look at him now.” You glance into Oliver's room, one of the nurses accompanying him for the night.

“I know that Oliver is more than thankful for you. He knows that you care deeply for him as a patient and I'm sure that when he recovers, he will greet you with a smile.” Zayne says, looking through the glass of Oliver's room.

“You saw what I did out there whilst he was having a seizure. What kind of doctor has a massive breakdown whilst their patient could be knocking on death's door? You aren't always going to be there whilst I have another breakdown in front of another patient. Imagine what could happen? It won't be anyone else's fault but mine.”

“This isn't permanent. You will eventually find a way to confront this fear of yours and only then will you be able to forgive yourself.” Zayne says and you don't even have the strength to look him the eyes, only blankly staring at his worn out shoes.

“How about we go to the break room? We don't need to talk about it but it would be good to at least sit down.” You nod, standing up straight as you lift yourself off the wall and walk to the room with your head down.

Making it to the break room, you sit down on a random chair and sit back. Zayne opens the mini fridge and places your water bottle onto the desk in front of you. Not having the strength to speak, you give him a slight nod before drinking from the straw. The cold water quenches a hidden thirst and you feel your lost will to live slowly come back.

After a much deserved rest of four days, the ability to function like a normal human being has returned. Tasks that felt extremely monotone during the seven days of night shift in a row now had meaning to them and were much more enjoyable to do.

You pull back the changing curtain, smoothing out the faint creases on your scrubs. Zayne stands beside the table, removing his watch. “Here.” Zayne passes you an iced coffee.

“Thanks.” You take the coffee from him, before fixing your messy hair in the mirror.

“No sassy remark?” You turn your head to see a confused Zayne. “Not even a question asking why I decided to give you a coffee?”

“Maybe it will come back to me after I finish fixing my hair. Do you want me to ask why you decided to randomly bring me a coffee?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No. But I definitely was expecting a more sarcastic response.” He grabs his notebook. “I’ll see you later.”

During the brief encounter you had with one of the nurses, you find out that Oliver has rapidly improved after the incident on the last day of your torturous one week shift.

With twenty minutes left before the first appointment of the day, you make your way to his room. Knocking on the door, you hear a soft “come in,” from Oliver and you twist the handle. There sits Oliver, propped up on a pillow as the television plays quietly in the background. He looks at you and a smile graces his lips.

“Doctor L/n. I'm really sorry for scaring everyone with my seizure a few days ago. Before you say anything else, I just want to say that I am really thankful for everyone, especially you. I know that you went through a lot last week and I don't want you to think about any of those feel bad thoughts that might be troubling you.” You feel the tension dissipate from your body as you finally find a sense of closure.

“Thank you for recovering Oliver.” You smile and your gaze drifts to the clock above his bed. “I don't have much time left before I have to leave, but is there anything that I can get you before I go?”

“It's a bit cold, would it be possible to get another blanket?” You nod, excusing yourself before heading to the storage closet.

Pushing the door of the storage closet open, a familiar set of shoulders greets you as you step inside. The storage closet is extremely small, the space is just about enough to fit one person.

Having two people is practically invading personal space.

“You could have just waited outside like everyone else does when they see someone in here.” Zayne's voice breaks the sound of equipment being rummaged through.

So much for mood swings, he was somewhat bearable about five minutes ago.

“I could have. But you know very well by now that I enjoy bringing you misery. Could you pass me a blanket whilst you're at it?” You grin. Zayne sighs, but opens up a box and hands you the blanket before going back to retrieving whatever he needed.

“This is one of the small blankets, could you get me a medium or a large one instead?”

“Do you see me as some kind of butler? You are very capable of getting it yourself.” He looks behind his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed.

“So you do see me as capable! Only took you about six years to recognise it.” You place a hand on your chest, pretending to feel touched by his sarcastic compliment.

Feeling very pleased with yourself, you scooch past him, replacing the small blanket for a large one. You squeeze past him, ready to stretch your limbs freely again.

“So much for having a civil relationship.” Zayne mutters under his breath, but the proximity between you allows you to easily hear him. “This is not how acquaintances act around each other.” He pulls out a small plastic box and turns around, bumping into you.

You say nothing, suddenly realising how little space there is between you and Zayne. You don't think you have ever gotten this close to someone since your relationships in college. Maybe it's the unwelcoming memories of things that you have done with someone this close, but you feel your heart rate begin to quicken.

“So you consider us to be acquaintances?”

“I would assume so, especially since we have agreed to be civil with each other. Not exactly friendly acquaintances but acquaintances nonetheless.” Your grip on the blanket tightens ever so slightly.

“Does this mean my acquaintance will allow me to leave this prison cell of a storage room?” You tilt your head up at him.

“Of course.” He shuffles awkwardly, almost lying flat against the shelves. You don't spare him another glance and open the door, heading to Oliver's room.

“Here's your blanket.” You pass Oliver the soft material.

“Sorry for the wait, it took me a while to actually find one in the right size.”

“Thank you, Doctor L/n.” He unfolds the blanket. “Are you okay, by the way? Your face looks a bit flushed.”

Within the second month of settling in to the hospital, you are immediately seen as experienced. You absolutely beg to differ, considering how you only recently discovered that the television screen in the reception area could actually display something other than the news.

However, that doesn't stop one of the first year medical students from following you around the ward like you are their mother duck— they have essentially imprinted on you. With this built up trust, they confidently ask you to sign off their competency forms.

You smile and sit down next to the desk, grabbing a pen. "Thank you so much for signing these forms, Doctor L/n. You are single handedly saving me from getting scolded by my clinical tutor.” He sighs, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“No problem, I remember feeling the exact same way when I first started placements.” You chuckle, signing off the date and your signature at the bottom of the paper.

“Were the wards always this quiet when you first started off? I feel like it hasn't been very busy today.” He innocently asks.

Your grip on the pen tightens, and you slowly exhale all the breath in your lungs. “Not always. But it will become busy very soon." The innocent medical student tilts his head in confusion.

“How do you know, Doctor L/n?”

“Whenever someone mentions how quiet the ward is, emergencies happen within the next five minutes.” You see the colour drain from the his face. “Don't worry, just make sure to not make the same mistake for next time and prepare yourself for the chaos.” You pat his shoulder and leave his forms on the table.

Walking up to the reception, you hear the sound of rapid footsteps to one of the patient rooms and you immediately follow the sound. As soon as you enter, you see Doctor Zhou removing her white coat and you quickly realise the patient is going into a cardiac arrest.

Greyson and Zayne rush in, with Zayne standing next to you and you impatiently await Doctor Zhou's instructions. “The two closest to the door grab the crash cart and anyone else who is left, switch compressions on the patient with me after two minutes.” Doctor Zhou instructs and you quickly assess your position in the room, realising you and Zayne are closest to the door.

Without wasting a second, you rush out of the door and into the hallway with Zayne following behind. The crash cart that usually sits at the nurses' station is nowhere to be seen, explaining why there is nobody else helping out in the room— another emergency is occurring elsewhere in the ward.

“Doctor Li, we need to go to the ICU, the crash cart is being used elsewhere.” You say and he nods, leading the way.

Your mind is on auto pilot, frantically making your way to the ICU in hopes that there's an available crash cart somewhere. Zayne uses his longer legs to his advantage and you see him conversing with one of the nurses find the crash cart.

“Doctor L/n, on your right!” He shouts, breaking the silence of the peaceful department.

Turning right, you notice the white and blue cart instantly. You push on it, and it rolls on its wheels. Zayne comes into your vision and stands next to you, making carrying the weight of the heavy piece of equipment much faster.

“Let's go.” You announce and Zayne nods, pushing the cart out of the ICU hallway.

The journey from the ICU to the general surgery department feels extremely long, despite it being the closest department to the one you have essentially made a home in. Pushing it is honestly not much of a problem, the only problem on your mind is the patient and your hopes of them making a rapid recovery.

You feel something cold on the back of your hand and immediately know it's not you, especially with your body sweating from the stress and your uncomfortable, thick white coat. Probably just a piece of equipment sticking out of the drawers.

You quickly look down and register the 'cold something' as Zayne's hand. You grasp onto the side of the cart tighter and look up to only make accidental eye contact with Zayne. Right about now, you would have said something along the lines of 'get your icicle hands off me' but it clearly is not the time, especially when the patient's room is in sight.

You suck up the comment practically begging to spill from your lips, it causing your heart to beat wild enough to the point where it could end with you being a receiving the treatment.

But the feeling of his hand on top of yours is actually kind of nice — definitely not in a way that would get teenage girls screaming. It's just a very weirdly comforting ice pack. His eyes never stray from yours, only giving you a short nod— probably as a way of letting you know he's there and you don't need to worry.

As nice as it is to have eye contact with Zayne that is not just side eyes and snares, you cough awkwardly, averting your eyes in front of you to prevent the cart from crashing into a poor passerby.

Manoeuvring the cart into the room, you notice the tired expressions on Greyson's and Doctor Zhou's faces. “Sorry we took so long, the cart was in the ICU. I'll take over doing compressions!” You stand by the patient's bedside, rolling up your sleeves.

With the rest of the emergency passing in a blink of an eye, you make your way to the on call room. Flopping down on the spinny chair, you open a water bottle and the door opens with Zayne making his way inside.

“I think Oliver recovering has given me closure— I didn't freak out and handled the situation calmly! I even volunteered to do compressions before you, everyone knows how keen you are to be the first one to help!” You smile widely.

“Seeing Oliver recovered has definitely improved your confidence. I'm glad you aren't afraid to jump into action anymore.” He says and you nod with a mouthful of water.

Considering your newly established relationship with Zayne as acquaintances, you expected a more meaningful reaction from him. Despite him being a man of not very much to say in the first place, you should feel thankful that you have even made it as far as him offering you one of his precious macarons a few months ago.

But you can't help but feel like you need something more from him. Perhaps something along the lines of 'I'm proud,' or 'This is only the beginning of good things,' but considering the fact that it is Zayne, maybe this is as far as it will go.

It quite honestly doesn't make any sense— why is there a sudden need to be validated and noticed by him?

You sit in the conference room, daydreaming about what you should order for dinner when you get home after work.

The topic of internet safety is incredibly boring and the guy from IT didn't even bother making the presentation slides colourful. It's pretty much common sense (there's probably an old consultant somewhere learning what an incognito tab is) and your mind is incredibly under-stimulated.

Letting out a silent sigh, you give your eyes a break from the colourless presentation slides and stare out the window. The view isn't very appealing either: thick, tamed black hair covers your view of the trees below. Sparing a glance at the owner of said hair, you soon realise it is Zayne.

Keen on wasting even more time, your mind wanders off to problems that you have experienced since starting work at Akso. The lack of fluffy pillows in the break room to sleep on, Zayne picking a fight with you in front of poor Daisy, the terrible one week on call shift you had with Zayne, your sudden need to have Zayne act more cheerful around you— fuck.

Why are you so caught up about Zayne in the first place? Why do you want him to act more like a human rather than a programmed robot? It was not much this much a problem in medical school, so what on earth is causing you to feel this way?

Is it the weird period of transitioning into the working world? It might be, it takes everyone different amounts of time to settle into a hospital as big as Akso. Maybe you just need more time to get to grips with the place.

It definitely is, nothing else.

After what feels like ten minutes, you blink slowly in hopes to catch up on micro amounts of sleep that you missed out on last night. During the short period of letting your eyes rest, your mind once again drifts off thinking anything other than this useless presentation.

The sound of papers rustling brings your head out of the clouds and your vision hones in on Zayne looking straight back at you. Shit. Have you been unconsciously looking at him the entire time? You blink a few times, hoping it's just a figure of your imagination, but his eyes continue to stare into yours.

Faking a smile, you pick up your pen and fiercely make notes, writing 'what the fuck did he just catch me???'. Hesitantly, you slowly lift up your head to check if he has decided to save your dignity and look anywhere else but you.

You freeze, realising Zayne's piercing eyes are still locked in on you. The room grows more stuffy by the second, and the heat spreads to your cheeks. Coughing awkwardly, you finally pay attention to the presentation only to find out that the IT guy is thanking everyone for listening.

Grabbing your pen and notepad, you rush out of the room before Yvonne— or even worse, Zayne himself— asks why you are in such a hurry to leave.

Walking up to the hospital entrance, the wind brushes past your shoulders and almost knocks you off balance.

It acts a quiet reminder of how it life at the hospital has been boring to say the least, as this has single handedly been the most exciting thing that has happened all week. No new hospital drama, not even a good show to watch on the reception television when appointments slow down during the day.

Sighing at the lack of gossip, you can only drag your feet along the floors to the general surgery department, hoping that somewhere the drama will start picking up again. The handover from the night shift team remains the same as normal: boring.

Based on the blank expression on Yvonne's face, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how she is feeling. Not even as the handover ends does her expression brighten up in the slightest, her eyes boring holes into the patient files. You can only sigh when the night shift team leaves.

The morale in the room is non existent. Something good has to happen today, and it can't be a patient dancing the macarena on the tables whilst naked.

The end of the shift is in sight, and the break room is silent. Everyone is clearly ready to go home, and you countdown the mere minutes on the clock until you are no longer legally bound to stay at the hospital. Time goes by extremely slowly, checking the clock when you think the shift is officially over, only it to not even change the position of the minute hand.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back catches your attention, and Zayne walks out. His grey long coat only extends his tall figure, matching well with the silver rimmed glasses he wears.

He actually looks good. Not as in a presentable outfit kind of good, but Zayne himself looks good.

There should be no reason for you to be thinking about him in this way. It's just Zayne. It's just because he is wearing something that isn't the weird fitting green scrubs which brings out his eyes that makes him look good.

You blink multiple times, hoping that after twenty blinks he goes back to looking the way he usually does. But he never does. If anything, the excessive blinking relieves your dry eyes and it doesn't hurt to look at him anymore.

It was never about the transition from medical school to working as a doctor. It was never about the stupid scrubs that you associated with work. You have settled into the hospital well, especially with how you went out for drinks with Yvonne last week.

The realisation dawns on you, and you press your nails into your skin trying anything to wake up from the reality. You feel your heart pound against your chest and you assess. There is quite literally nothing else that could cause it to race— you are sat on a chair and there isn't an emergency happening.

It's Zayne. Somewhere along the way, you developed these stupid romantic feelings for him.

The hospital drama you so desperately wanted? It's you.

The next few days pass by in a blur, with your schedule filled up with regular appointments and the occasional emergency, life has been on autopilot.

But with Yvonne rushing into the break room the brightest you have seen her smile since last week, you know something interesting has happened.

“Did you hear? The hospital's twentieth year anniversary is this Friday, so the hospital director is treating Akso staff to the new fancy barbecue restaurant everyone online raves about!” Yvonne spins around in her chair in pure childlike happiness. “I finally get to see the hidden couples of other departments! The hospital drama drought will come to an end!”

“That sounds great! I can't wait to have something interesting to talk about other than the sad selection of crisps from the vending machine.” You chuckle, swallowing nervously as you realise your secret may come out quicker than expected.

“I'm so excited to see the stolen glances from people when they think someone isn't watching! I love watching the tension build up.” She closes her eyes happily, sighing happily.

You definitely won't be the centre of attention, there should be absolutely no reason to worry at all. Eat, laugh at some stupid joke and don't look at Zayne. Simple.

Sitting in the barbecue place for the event, you take in your surroundings, watching as people would be more than happy to chat the rest of the night away. Your gaze drifts to the nephrology department, as you notice the hidden glances between a couple who definitely cannot be any more obvious.

You can only hope that your eyes don't betray your crumbling will to continue being acquaintances with the man sitting opposite you. The sharp tapping of a wine glass breaks the silence.

“Everyone can I have your attention please?” Heads turn and you watch as the hospital director smiles brightly.

“As much as I enjoy watching the different departments together, it is time for a competition. A group quiz! The winning department of the quiz gets a massage chair for all your relaxing needs!” Loud murmurs and hushed conversations immediately start, with people happily imagining themselves sat in the massage chair during a short break.

Whiteboards are quickly passed around the room, with Doctor Zhou being nominated as the team's scribe. “First question, an extremely easy one. What anniversary is Akso currently celebrating on this fine evening?” The hospital director doesn't even finish his first question, and '20 years' is written on the whiteboard.

“Alright, boards up! Okay, all teams get a point!” The crowd cheers as someone notes down the scores on a piece of paper. “Next question, how many times does the average person blink in a day? The exact or the closest answer wins the point!” Everyone huddles around in a circle, keen on discussing their thoughts.

“I think about ten thousand times a day.” Greyson speaks in a hushed tone. Everyone nods in some form of agreement.

“It's about fifteen thousand times a day, actually.” You say, causing everyone to blink silently at you as the gears in their head try to calculate. “I memorised a fact book about weird trivia facts when I was about eight and it hasn't proven me wrong since.”

“Of course, as expected.” A once irritating voice speaks up and you roll your eyes in order to not cause a scene.

“I trust Y/n!” Yvonne raises her arm up, looking around the table to see who would join her. Soon enough, most of the table has their hands raised. Doctor Zhou hums, writing down your answer on the whiteboard.

“Time is up, show me your answers!” He shouts, scanning through the answers written, until his jaw drops. “We have an exact answer everyone!” He points to your table, causing everyone to shake your shoulders happily. “The answer was fifteen thousand times.” The crowd sighs.

“Next question, what is the average speed of a human sneeze in miles per hour?” The other tables suddenly get deep into conversation.

“How about we all say an answer at the same time? I know Y/n probably knows the answer, but this makes it more fun since we will just be sitting in silence as we wait to see if the answer is right.” Yvonne suggests, and everyone around the table nods in agreement.

“How about we all say our answers on the count of three? One, two… three!”

“Fifty miles an hour!”

“Eighty five miles an hour!”

“Seventy three and a half miles an hour!”

“Over one hundred miles an hour.” You say, and your voice somehow sounds like it dropped a whole octave. Looking to the source of your supposed low voice, you feel the colour rush to your face. There should not even be a rational reason to feeling a weird a sense of embarrassment.

Of course, Zayne manages to say the exact same answer as you at the exact same time. It shouldn't even be a surprise, he is a literal doctor and just happens to have a good memory too. He is extremely smart, he probably memorised the exact same trivia book that you did.

“Y/n?” A hand taps your arm. “Did you hear the question?” Yvonne stares at you, a hint of concern written on her face.

“Huh?” You look to her. “Did we get the question right?”

“Yes we did, thanks to you and Zayne!” She chirps happily. “The question was 'where does the term muscle come from?' and include the language of origin too.”

“Little mouse in Latin.” Twiddling your fingers, you try to take interest in the plain colour of your nails but eventually fail. Looking to the person who has your head utterly and completely messed up, you eye the bottle of expensive wine sitting in the middle of the table.

It might as well be easier to spend the rest of the night slightly tipsy and having your feelings spiral rather than just be a human void who can only think about the complications of falling for Zayne.

Huffing, you grab the glass bottle and pour a good amount into your wine glass, admiring the deep red hue before downing it in one quick gulp. You pick up the bottle again, pouring another into your glass whilst everyone keenly watches.

“Slow down, you can't have all the fun without us! Let us have some before you drink your way through to victory, Y/n.” Yvonne whistles, extending her glass in front of you as she waits for you to pour her some.

This sets off a chain reaction of everyone else on the table, grinning from ear to ear as they wait for you to pour the wine into their glass. They happily savour the drink, discussing about the different fruits that they taste as they swirl the liquid.

Almost coming full circle on the table, you stop at Zayne. “Don't you want some?” You ask, displaying the fancy label for him to look at whilst you tilt your head at him.

“No thank you. I am not well suited for drinking.”

“I will drink this in your stead, Doctor Li.” You raise your glass, clinking it with his empty one. “If you don't hear from me on our next shift, it's because I have lost my phone and don't know how to get home.” You smile, remembering your college days as you drink the whole thing in one go.

Zayne just looks at you with a concerned look on his face. “Next question!” The sound of the microphone seems much louder, a clear tell tale sign the alcohol is kicking in. “What is my favourite colour?” He chuckles, enjoying the confused looks on everyone's faces at the new question.

The room goes into frenzy, everyone naming all the colours that they can think of at the top of their head whilst you quietly sing the rainbow song as you forget what colours exist. “Blue!” You lean over the table, pointing to the director's tie. “He always wears a blue tie.”

“Yes, Y/n. But right now, he's wearing a green tie.” Yvonne coos, making sure you sit back down on your chair. Looking over to the director, you focus your eyes and finally see his green tie. You see a smirk on Zayne's face.

“Hey, I'm trying!” Yvonne only pats your shoulder comfortingly to calm your increasing anger which causes your eyes to droop.

“Final question, what fruit does a human share sixty percent of its DNA with?”

“Banana. Yellow fuzzy bananas.” Your mouth opens before your eyes do, seeing the bright lights invade your vision.

“You're drunk, Y/n.” Yvonne announces, taking your wine glass away from you. “Drink up!” She hands you a glass with transparent liquid in it.

“Nope, I don't want water! I want more yummy wine.” You shake your head, pushing the glass of water away from you.

“We both know that's not going to be happening.” She deadpans, putting the water into your hands. “At least take a little sip for me, please?” You use both hands to steady the cup, washing down the taste of the sweet berries.

“We have a winning team, everyone! The winning team is…” The director trails off, leaving everyone in suspense.

“The general surgery team! Congratulations, the massage chair will be arriving on Monday. Thank you everyone for coming to Akso's twentieth anniversary dinner, get home safe!” You cheer, nursing your empty wine glass as you pick up some crackers, watching as everyone collects their belongings.

“Where do you live, Y/n? I want you home safe and in one piece, please.” Yvonne, your shining knight in armour asks.

“Near the hospital, near the park with the cool exercise machines.” You grin, clumsily shoving a cracker into your mouth as Yvonne sighs and Doctor Zhou nods.

“Does anyone live near the big park with the fountains and is able to take Y/n home, please?” Doctor Zhou turns around, facing the rest of the general surgery team.

You sit in your chair, watching as people shake their heads on in response. Grabbing your phone, you tap on the screen in attempts to book a taxi, only to be locked out after the fifth attempt.

“I live close by.” A voice that makes you want to hide in a hole for the rest of eternity speaks up, and you immediately shake your head childishly.

“I can make it home by myself! I am more than capable.” You stand up, gripping onto the back of the chair for dear life as the world spins.

“Zayne is going to take you home, Y/n. I'll see you on Sunday, okay?” Yvonne waves you goodbye before facing the man beside you. “Take care of her for me please. Good luck, she seems like she is going to be a bit of a handful.”

You walk with your head down, trying to walk as sober as possible as you can to avoid the awkward walk home with the man who has been taking up every inch of your thoughts.

“You're going to fall if you continue to walk like that, L/n.” Turning around, you glance back at him and only look at him before huffing and turning back around to leave the restaurant.

Walking past the restaurant entrance, you immediately make a left turn and observe the glass reflection to see if Zayne is still following you. He walks briskly, holding on to your bag as he fixes his glasses. You stop in your tracks, allowing Zayne to catch up with you.

Once he stands in front of you, you grab the bag from him and try to walk, only to find yourself stuck in the same place as he holds a gentle grip around your wrist.

“I understand you want to go home alone, but I need to ensure you get home safely, L/n. Please stop trying to run away from me.” You stick your tongue at him, but he still doesn't let go of you. “Didn't you tell me that I might not hear back from you if you get too drunk?”

“And why do you care if I make it home back safe or not, Li?” You retort back sassily, putting your hand on your waist for extra effect.

“I told everyone that I would escort you home, so I must stick to my words. Nobody was going in the same direction as you, and I have little trust in taxi drivers at such a late time. Despite living in the opposite direction, I need to make sure you attend the next shift.” He stays silent. “As acquaintances, of course.”

“Hm.” Zayne removes his grip on you, allowing you to move freely.

Putting one foot in front of the other, you allow Zayne to walk you home. “You are like fuzzy cheese.”

“I wonder if you will be able to tell me the same thing sober, L/n.” Ignoring him, you continue with your new profound discovery.

“Whenever people look at fuzzy cheese, they just go 'ew' and move on. But if you actually know about fuzzy cheese, you can just remove the exterior and enjoy the insides.”

“I was not expecting to be likened to fuzzy cheese, but thank you for your wonderful analogy.”

“Your coat is fuzzy too.” Grazing your hand past his coat, you feel the material and scrunch your nose up in disgust.

“Look at the park! Isn't it pretty? I could dive into the fountain to cool down, don't you think?”

“You are not doing that.” He grabs the material of your trench coat, ready to pull you back if you jump in.

“Awww.” You look down to the ground, kicking your feet sadly. Zayne sighs, letting go of your coat. You nod at him, blinking slowly as you point to the fountain in child- like joy. “Can we go look at the fountain please?” Looking up at him, you clasp your hands together and put on your best puppy face.

“As long as you promise to go home right after this, L/n.” You put a hand over your heart, agreeing with his statement. “I suppose we can go.”

Running towards the fountain, you pant from the heaviness of the trench coat and the alcohol severely reducing your ability to function properly.

Looking behind you, Zayne chases after you with wide eyes at your sudden exit. “It's so hot.” You wipe sweat off your forehead, fanning yourself with your hands. “Take this,” You hand him your bag.

“Wouldn't you like to take off your—” You jump into the fountain, splashing happily as the coldness of the water hits your face. “—coat.” Smiling at Zayne, you can't tell if he's angry, disappointed or intrigued by your behaviour as he places your bag onto his broad shoulders.

“Let's get you up, hm?” He places a hand in front of you, waiting for you to take it.

“You're warm. This is cold.” Gesturing towards the water, you scoop a handful of water into your hands, watching it trickle down your arms as it slips through the gaps in your hands.

“I find it hard to believe that the one time you call me a warm person is whilst you are completely inebriated and splashing around in a water fountain. Don't you want to go home and get some sleep?” He asks, and you close your eyes shaking your head, whispering 'no no no' under your breath.

Zayne sighs for the billionth time this night. “You leave me with no choice.” Getting into the fountain, he makes sure to not get your bag wet as he crouches down, picking you up and carrying you into his arms.

“Hehe, this is fun!” You giggle, lifting one arm up in the air to touch his cheeks.

“We have very different ideas of fun.” Stepping out of the fountain, the sound of water from his trousers hitting the concrete makes you giggle even more.

“You are going to have a terrible morning when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Hm? Why? I feel great now! Look!” Your wet hands pulling down on his chin, forcing him to stop walking and make eye contact with him.

The atmosphere changes. Zayne doesn't say anything, his lips slightly parted as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. Running your free hand through his hair, you slowly bring it down to the back of his burning neck, pulling him closer. The distance is almost non existent, his lips hovering over yours, close enough to feel his gentle breath.

In a blink, he pulls away.

“I…” His voice trails off, pressing his lips together. “Apologies. Can you tell me where your house is?”

“First door, second floor over there.” Pointing towards the building in front of you.

He nods, walking towards the direction of your building. The walk back is quiet, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. Afraid of making eye contact again, you screw your eyes shut and loll your head against his arm.

“We're here.” A quiet voice that you know all too well says and you don't have the guts to move, only moving your chest in attempts to breathe normally. “Y— L/n, we're here. Let's get you inside.” You only open your mouth slightly in response. “I don't want you getting a cold, please.”

“Hm?” You open your eyes slightly, Zayne's handsome features still visible in your blurry eyesight.

“We are outside your door. Do you have your keys with you so I can get you inside?”

“Bag.” You reply, pressing the side of your head against his chest. “I need to put you down for a second to get your keys, L/n.” Immediately shaking your head, you nuzzle further into him in protest. “Can you get them for me? Your bag is hanging on my shoulder.” With as little strength you can muster, you weakly grab your bag from his side, fumbling to grab your keys.

“Here!” You reveal the keys, dangling them in front of his face like a cat toy.

“Thank you.” He takes the keys from your hand, moving closer towards the door and you hear the rattling of the keys as the scent of your vanilla diffuser hits your nose.

“I need to take off your shoes. Just a second.” The plush feeling of the sofa hits your back as your head rests against the pillows. Your soaked shoes come off, and you sigh in relief at the heavy weight gone from your feet.

“It's cold.” You complain, looking around for a pillow, plopping it over your stomach as a makeshift blanket.

“So now you complain about being cold.” Zayne chuckles. “You need to change into warmer clothes.”

“Can you change my clothes?” You look at him with heavy lidded eyes as you rest your forehead against his. In your bleary state, you notice the tips of his cheeks and ears quickly turning into a bright red colour.

“No. But I can help you take off your coat instead.” As if a switch goes off, you smile and stick your arms out as you wait for him to remove the coat sticking to your body with waiting eyes. His hands reach just under your collar, removing the material off of you, making you shiver.

“Where do you keep your pyjamas? If you sleep in these, you're going to end up sneezing in front of patients.” Zayne asks, hanging your brown coat above the door to let it dry.

“Bedroom.” You stand up, much quicker than what your body can keep up with, causing the world to tilt sideways until you feel the world turn back upright with Zayne's arm wrapped around your waist. “Heh, you caught me!”

Grabbing his arm, you lead the way into your room. “There's my pyjamas!” Pointing to the big wooden drawer as you plop down on the floor.

“Which ones would you like to wear?” Searching through your drawer, he pulls out a few options.

“The blue ones!” They end up in your lap, with Zayne walking out of your room to let you change. Opening the door handle, you smile back at Zayne who only chuckles as he sees your face. “Why are you laughing? These are very stylish!”

“You still have makeup on with them on, that's all. Come on, let's get your makeup removed and your teeth brushed.” Nodding in agreement, you use him as support to walk to your bathroom and wait for him to step inside.

Craning your neck upwards to look up at Zayne, you await his instructions. He quickly catches on, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush and hands it to you. Grabbing the toothbrush, you look at him in the mirror as you begin brushing.

Just before spitting out the toothpaste, you give him a foamy grin which causes him to unfortunately only encourage you to spit it out instead of complimenting your lovely smile.

“What about your makeup remover?” Blinking up at him, you point towards the micellar water and the cotton pads laying about on the counter top.

“Here,” He hands them to you, with the bottle of micellar water opened. Taking them into your hands, you pour the transparent liquid over the cotton pad and gravely miss, with some of it ending on your fluffy mat.

“Can you do it for me?” You pass them back to him, and immediately close your eyes. Gentle hands gently touch your chin, slightly bringing it upwards as you feel the cold feeling glide across your face.

“Sorry, it's a little cold.” He apologises, shuffling about as he takes more micellar water onto the cotton pads. “Almost done.” You feel him get closer, the stupid feeling of his breath resting on your lips makes you internally spiral.

“Done. Into bed now.” You open your eyes as Zayne stands beside you, waiting for you to lead the way into your bedroom.

Your heavy feet pad against the floors, magically making it into the bed and you pull the covers over your body. “Li?” You call out with your head resting against the pillows. He turns back around in the hallway. “Thank you, you're such a good friend.”

“Of course. Just doing what a friend would do. Goodnight, L/n.” He walks away, and you finally let sleep overcome you.

The sound of an alarm that definitely should not be going off wakes you up, and you are immediately greeted with the bright sun hitting your eyes and a throbbing headache. Turning off the alarm, you bury yourself back into the covers to stop the headache.

Whatever happened last night must have been fun for the pain to be this bad. Closing your eyes, you are immediately met with the insane things you did the previous night.

Getting drunk in front of all of your colleagues, some other act that you can't quite remember and Zayne removing your makeup. All of it hits you like a train, except from this one particular thing that happened with Zayne.

Your finger hovers over your lips as a habit and suddenly everything clicks into place. Outside, jumping into the decorative fountain to cool down, Zayne getting into the fountain to only pick you up bridal style, and the kiss. The kiss that almost happened.

You scream into your pillow, the pulsing sensation only getting stronger as you use up more of your strength for such a useless thing. Letting out a heavy sigh, you rush to the bathroom to brush your teeth and create a terrible breakfast to get the pain medication down.

The medication doesn't go down as easily as you assumed it would. The bitter, chalky taste is very much reflecting your bleak outlook on your reputation and the potential for Zayne to think of you as a freak.

Hell, you even called him a good friend in your drunk state. Never have you ever considered him a friend— only an enemy, acquaintance and a confusing crush. This immediately blurs the lines of your confusing relationship, as you vaguely remembering him calling you a friend as he left last night.

Does that make you friends? Do friends almost kiss? Do friends walk you home in the opposite direction to get you home safely and remove your makeup?

Great friends might, but you bravely established the start of a friendship last night. The realisation dawns upon you, and you stare up at the ceiling in a mixture of disbelief and nervousness.

Zayne might just feel the same way.

The walk into Akso is terribly gloomy, your umbrella almost giving into the strong winds and carrying away your remaining will to live.

Making your way into the department, you spot Zayne in the corner of your eye and quickly change into your scrubs before he leaves you to have an awkward rounding session together with the rest of the trainees.

Putting on your most neutral expression possible, you approach with your hands behind your back to hide your fidgeting hands. “Doctor Li, can I speak to you privately please?”

“Of course.” Luckily for you, everyone seems keen on getting started early and leaves you alone with him. “I just want to start by apologising, I was certainly a handful on Friday night. Thank you for going out of your way to make sure I get home safely. Things that nearly happened definitely should not have happened and I want to say sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Of course, we are acquaintances and colleagues.” Your heart flutters, but you can't pinpoint if it's disappointment or acceptance. “It's in the best interests of the hospital to make sure that all staff members go back home safely. As for the thing that nearly happened, it's best if we pretend it never happened.”

“Thank you for understanding. I'm glad we can just put it behind us.” You bite the inside of your lip, realising the emotion you feel is definitely disappointment. “We should get going, we have to do rounds.”

With the specialisation exams approaching, the general surgery department grows more tense as the days go by.

The silly jokes in the break room have now been replaced by the sighs of resident doctors who only want to pass their exams. Thankfully, the department is well aware of this and has blocked out study time in your working schedule to focus on these important exams.

With your appointments running later, you have lost the privilege of choosing your seat and are forced to sit at the only shared table without a computer. But that seems to be less of a pressing problem when you see Zayne and you realise this study session is going to be a lot harder than you initially planned it out to be.

Shaking off the distraction sat next to you, you hover over a neurosurgery textbook as you fiddle with your pen. Placing your pen down, you grab a highlighter from your worn out pencil case and you hear the faint sound of your pen rolling off the table. Your reflexes aren't quick enough to catch it in time, and it drops onto the floor right onto Zayne's side of the table.

Without trying to make a scene, you stretch out your arm to reach for the stupid pen but to no avail. Extremely tempted to just use another one, you glance at the ink filled cylinder only to realise it's your favourite one that has the smoothest ink. With a new found determination, you stretch your arm out even further only to come extremely short.

You sit back up onto your seat and watch the second hand go past. The dull sound of a chair being dragged against the floor shakes the table ever so slightly and you look to the reason that disturbed your silence.

Zayne sits there, holding your pen out waiting for you to take it back. You smile at him, instantly feeling bad that you called him the so called reason of destroying your silence. Reaching for the pen, you wrap your fingers around it, waiting for Zayne to let go. But he doesn't. He only pulls the pen closer to him, causing you to be pulled closer to him by the grip he has over your poor pen.

Blinking at him, you gesture towards the pen, hoping that he gets the hint to let go so you can get back to your studies. You even point out the table, and hope that he just leaves it there. But nothing. Staring at him, you try to figure out what on earth he is trying to get out of this.

With your eyes honed in on his, you feel the pen move in your hold and before you even realise, Zayne's fingers are ever so slightly touching yours. You welcome the feeling of his fingers against yours. If you tried hard enough, you could just about make out the softness of his fingertips despite the rough procedures he helps assist whilst in the operating room.

Or maybe you could almost feel the texture of his skin if you move even in the slightest. Somebody should move their hand away. But in all honesty, you don't want to and you can't bring yourself to do so.

But the textbooks that sit on the desk is calling out your name, begging to be read again— You let out an extremely unconvincing cough that magically causes no one in the room to bat an eye, but only then, Zayne's eyes widen in shock.

He immediately lets go of the pen, and his gaze flickers between your hands and his. He hastily flicks to a new page of his textbook, pretending that you don't exist after everything that just happened.

You can only furrow your eyebrows at his behaviour, especially after noticing the red hue that has rapidly appeared on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

This is definitely not what forgetting Friday night's incident looks like.

Sitting in the break room, you fiddle with your fingers as you watch Greyson and Yvonne walk out, leaving you the only person left in the room with Zayne. The door closes behind them and you feel the conflict between your emotions threatening to spill over but you swallow them down. “I have something to say.”

“Something private, I'm assuming.” You nod, nibbling on the inside of your gum.

“I can't keep pretending like everything is okay. I can't keep going about my day as if my brain isn't clouded so many thoughts to the point where it gets overwhelming. I have tried denying it, suppressing the feeling until it disappears— but it never does. It only makes it worse. As someone who has been wanting to be a neurosurgeon long before starting medical school, I do what I am told.” You pause, looking into his eyes and seeing your own reflection.

“I have always been inclined to think with my head, never my heart. But things have changed, and at first I hated it. At first I thought it was the rush of actually being a doctor, but it wasn't. It was you, Zayne. I can't keep ignoring what my heart wants.” Tears stream down your face. “I have to give into what my heart wants. My heart wants you, Zayne.”

Through your clouded vision, you notice Zayne struggling for words for the first time in all of your years of knowing him. Your heart stammers rapidly against your chest, waiting for him to just say something. But he doesn't say anything, only wiping your tears with his cool fingertips. The coldness of his fingers brings you relief through your flushed face.

You prepare for a heart wrenching rejection that will leave you emotionally unavailable for the next three years whilst still pretending that everything is okay for the remainder of this stupid general surgeon training.

You could perhaps start by having a long movie night with some strawberry ice cream and— “You called me Zayne. Not Li.”

“That's all you care about?” Your mouth drops as your tears find their way back into its tear ducts.

“I just poured out my entire heart and all you care about is that I called you Zayne?” Anger bubbles through your small silver of patience and you walk around him, ready to leave.

“Y/n.” You pause in your tracks, fully understanding why he was unable to say anything when you called him by his first name. “Stay. Please, I didn't even get to tell you how I feel.” His hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from leaving. Turning around, you see him with his eyes glassy with tears. “I didn't get the chance to tell you my feelings. I'm sorry for scaring you like that, I just needed time to make sure what I heard from you was truly real.”

“You don't need to feel pity for me. We can just pretend that this never happened.” You sniffle, the tears threatening to spill again.

“No, Y/n. Just stay for a minute. I just need one minute.” The sense of urgency drips from his voice. His hold on your wrist doesn't tighten or loosen, just waiting for you to make a decision.

With a sigh, you turn around and see him shut his eyes closed for a second. “Studying the health of other people's hearts was always my priority. I assumed that nothing good would happen from putting my own heart first. But fuck, Y/n. I need to be selfish for once.”

“So you…”

“I like you, Y/n.” Tears flow and you find yourself between his warm arms.

“You fucking idiot.” You shove your face in his chest as you hit his shoulder. “Had me thinking if I would be known as the one who stupidly confessed her feelings for a colleague and got rejected.” His shirt becomes drenched in your tears. “You had me so scared, Zayne!”

“Shhh. I know, I'm such an idiot aren't I?” He soothes you, rubbing a hand down your back slowly. The sound of his rapid beating heart brings you a weird sense of peace, allowing you to focus on something other than the happy, hot tears streaming down your face.

Soon enough, your breathing goes back to normal. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, addressing the smirk on his face.

“So you called me Zayne, huh?” His smile grows even wider.

“Shut up.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Make me.” Without wasting another second, the space between you is closed.

A shaky hand cups your cheek and you finally, finally feel his lips on yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and you can taste the saltiness from your dried tears. But nothing has ever felt so good.

Pulling away, your forehead rests against Zayne's, feeling his breath linger on your lips. “My place.” He nods, kissing your lips once more before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the door.

You lock the door and Zayne is immediately on you, pinning you to the nearest wall. He wraps an arm around your body, pulling you close to him and closes the distance between your lips.

His hands start to wander, his usual logical mind suddenly in a frenzy. His hands soon find the ends of your blouse, placing his cold fingertips at the base of your waist.

You gasp in response, and he takes this opportunity to sweep his tongue against your mouth, leaving you breathless. Your fingers tug at his hair and this only spurs him on, slowly dragging his fingertips higher and higher.

Zayne's lips detach from yours, leaving a connected line of your shared saliva whilst you refill your lungs with air again. Soft kisses trail down your jaw until Zayne finds refuge at the base of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“You… smell like honey.” He breathes against your neck. “I missed out on my dessert on my lunch break. But who am I to care whilst I am currently indulging in the sweetest dessert after a long day of work?” His lips cover every inch of your skin scented honey perfume, thoroughly making sure to not miss a single spot.

“Zayne…” You breathe out. “Bedroom.” His large hands settle at the back of your thighs and you jump into his arms without hesitation and recapture his lips with yours.

You find yourself being placed on the side of the bed with no idea of how Zayne actually found your bedroom whilst kissing you until all the air in your lungs disappears. But you don't have the energy to care, not when he loosens his tie with one hand wearing those silver rimmed glasses of his.

Impatient, you yank him down with his collar and kiss him like tomorrow doesn't exist. Making good use of his nimble fingers, the opening of your blouse widens as he unbuttons it. The blouse lands on the bed and you fling it away, ready to do the same with the rest of your clothes.

“Gorgeous.” Zayne pulls away from you, admiring your almost naked form. His fingers find the clasp of your bra, but never comes undone. Only when you silently nod in approval is when the flimsy piece of material is released. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Zayne whispers before pinching your nipple, kissing the sides of your neck.

A rush of pleasure runs through you and you can't help but moan at the feeling. If anything, it only encourages him more to devour you, leaving wet kisses down your neck to your chest, taking your lonely bud into his mouth.

“Zayne…” You say, breathless at the pleasure he's giving you. He sucks harder in response, obviously proud of making you feel immense pleasure without even touching you where you need it the most.

He removes his lips with a soft pop from your sensitive bud, only to quickly give the other one the same attention whilst the sleeves of his shirt ride upwards. Swirling your nipple, he removes his tie and shirt with his gaze locked on you.

You grab the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as you try to mentally capture such a lewd image. In your dazed state, your eyes rake down his body, admiring the scars on his veiny arms. He presses heated kisses against your collarbone before looking at you again with his dilated pupils.

“You've been so good for me, Zaynie. Wanna do the same for you too.” You drawl out, teasingly running down one of your hands down his bare chest, watching as he exhales heavily at the mere touch of your fingertips.

“Fuck, you are going to be the death of me.” He curses under his breath but he grabs your wrist before you can go any lower. “I have waited so long to have you in my arms, darling. Tonight is all about making you feel good.” He kisses your temple. “But that doesn't stop you from doing whatever you want for round two.” His warm breath fans your ear, goosebumps quickly forming along your exposed arms.

True to his words, his fingers find the buttons on your trousers and you lift up your hips, removing the unwanted piece of material. Slow circles are traced along your inner thighs, until a finger traces over your drenched panties and you buck your core towards his hand at the fleeting sensation.

“Already this soaked for me?” He mockingly asks, continuing to move just one finger up and down your covered slit. You nod quickly in response, hoping that he actually starts moving properly. “I'm honoured. I'll give you what you so desperately want.” A ripping sound echoes throughout the room, and you feel your hot core exposed to the cold air.

But before you can even open your mouth to protest, a long, thick finger breaches your entrance. You shamelessly moan, feeling his finger explore your tight walls. “Look at you, feeling this good with just one finger.” He chuckles. “I haven't even gotten to your little sweet spot yet.” With the curl of his finger, the pads of his finger brushes against that gummy spot against your walls that has you grab your sheets.

“Fuck. Please!” You cry out, tears filling your vision.

“Please what, darling? I can't give you what you want until you ask for it.” Zayne says, another finger teasing the tip of your entrance.

“Please don't stop! Feels s-so good, Zaynie. Need more.” He slips another inside your wet core, fingers continue to stimulate your pretty g-spot, practically sending fireworks through your body.

“So responsive for me, sweetheart.” His thumb finds your clit, rubbing quick figure of eights whilst you moan unabashedly in pleasure. “I can feel you tighten up around me. Are you going to cum this quickly?”

“Close, s-so close Zaynie. I'm gonna cum, gonna be good, so good.” You grind against his hand, chasing the pleasure right on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah?” He asks and you shakily nod in agreement. “Cum for me then, sweetheart.” With his fingers never slowing down its ministrations on your poor pussy, you feel the knot in your stomach snap and the pleasure overwhelms your body.

“Took my fingers so well, my good girl.” Your eyes lazily follow his handsome face. An arm grabs your waist, pulling you onto his lap, your lips ghosting over his. “I'm not finished with you yet, darling.” He closes the distance, your wet core hovering over his trousers.

Kissing you deeper, the distance closes even more and you feel his hard bulge under you. The feeling of the material and his imprint feels too good— with every little movement that you and Zayne make, your swollen clit catches against his trousers. “I can feel you dripping, baby.”

You moan in response, pushing your breasts flush against his chest for more stimulation. “You're going to make even more of mess on me, understood?” You nod, unable to help the drool leaving your mouth, landing between your chest and his. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his stupidly hard cock rubbing against your swollen clit has you on cloud nine.

“You're all mine. Mine. My good girl is going to listen to me and make a mess, isn't she? Clenching around fucking nothing. Don't worry baby, you'll have your fill soon, I'll make sure of it. Leave you aching for days, so you never forget who makes you feel this good. I want you to keep your eyes open for me when you cum, can you do that for me?”

The thought of having Zayne making you feel so good without him properly fucking you has you going insane. He nibbles on your ear, making it all too easy to hear how desperate he is for you, making the cord inside of you snap.

“Hah, Zayne! Gonna make a mess, hck!” You cry out, your vision getting blurry as you fight back the urge to keep your eyes closed as pleasure drives through you. In the midst of your vision, you notice Zayne's stupidly handsome smirk as he watches your response, flicking between your face and his lap where you sit on.

“Filthy girl, making such a mess.” He looks down to his darkened trousers. “Did such a good job all over me.” He dries the tears on your face, placing you back down on the sheets as he fixes your hair and kisses your cheek to give you a short respite.

“Can you keep up, baby? Haven't even gotten to the best part yet.” The sound of a zipper reaches your ears in your relaxed state, Zayne freeing his cock from the restraints of his boxers.

The prominent vein running on the side, oh how much fun it would be to watch his reaction as you run your tongue over it. Perhaps for another time.

“Do you have any condoms anywhere, darling?” Shaking your head no, you see the indecisiveness in his eyes.

“Please Zaynie, if I wait any longer I might just cry.” You plead.

“We need to stay safe, Y/n. We don't want any unexpected problems.” He screws his eyes closed, trying to think of something.

“We can get a pill tomorrow, Zaynie.” You press your lips together. “I've waited to have you for so long, I can't wait much longer.” You see his eyes waver. “Please, baby?”

“You are the only one that makes all of my logic fly out of the window. Just this once.” He languidly strokes himself a couple times, his jaw tightening ever so slightly from the pleasure. He hovers over you, his face close to yours. “Tell me you want me and I will give you all of me.”

“I want you— no, I need you Zayne. Need you to fill me up so bad.” You beg and a heart throbbing smile appears on his face. You feel a stretch, your head spinning at the dangerous mix of pain and pleasure.

“I've got you, gorgeous. Just breathe slowly for me, okay?” You follow his instructions, the stretch quickly ebbing into pure pleasure.

Your jaw drops at the feeling and you desperately crave for more. “Need all of you, baby. I can take it, need to feel all of you.” You wrap your legs around his waist, ready for more. He pushes in further and your walls clamp around him, memorising the way his cock curves ever so slightly against where you need it the most.

“So tight for me gorgeous. I'm such a lucky man.” He rests his forehead against yours, savouring the closeness between you two. Without a warning, he pulls back painstakingly slow before pushing himself back in.

“Zayne!” You whine, eyes screwing shut as he continues to thrust repeatedly.

“I'm here, darling.” He finds your lips, slotting it between his, the sounds of your shared saliva echoing throughout the room. You moan into his mouth as he finds his rhythm, showing you the fruits of his stamina.

“So fucking tight.” He disconnects his lips from yours. “Can't believe we spent so long arguing when I could have been in here. We need to make up for all the lost time, sweetheart.” An 'mhm' is all you can manage, your mind only filled with Zayne, Zayne, Zayne.

“Has my darling of a surgeon forgotten how to speak?” You rake your fingernails down his back. “Have I made you go all dumb with just my cock?”

“I can —ngh— still —fuck— talk!” You just about manage to say, looking up at Zayne, drinking in your fucked out appearance.

“I guess I haven't done my job properly.” He snaps his hips forwards and you grasp onto his biceps for support. “Tell me darling, what is the seventh cranial nerve?” You don't have the willpower to prove his stupidly gorgeous face wrong, even though any other moment you would have jumped at such an easy opportunity to do so.

How does he expect you to know when he's literally rearranging your insides?

You use whatever brainpower you have left, formulating a snarky reply. “Zayne I don't fucking care about some stupid cranial nerve right now.” You stare into his hazel green eyes. “Please don't stop, feels so good.”

“As you wish.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips and drills into your sopping core with no mercy. Your head tilts back, exposing your bare neck for him. He licks your skin as a warning, sucking and grazing the surface with his teeth, definitely more than enough to leave pretty marks in the morning. His warm breath finds the small of your ear, nibbling on the fleshy part of your earlobe ever so gently in attempts to bring you closer to the edge.

“I can feel you clenching around me, gorgeous. Feels so good doesn't it?” He mocks you, his tone of voice mimicking to yours. “I'm going to make you feel even better.” Zayne says and much to your dismay, pulls out.

You feel his hands reach out for your calves, folding your legs against your chest, pushing you into the mattress in a mean mating press. “How about this, baby?” He pushes back in and your eyes roll back.

You can feel him everywhere, this position makes your chest heave as you feel all the breath in your lungs being stolen from you with each snap of his hips. “What about now, darling? Do you have words left to say, or has the cat finally gotten your tongue?” You open your mouth, but no words come out. The cool air floods your mouth, a stark comparison to your burning body.

“Thought so.” Zayne smirks, tightening his grip on your waist. “Fuck darling, how did you get even tighter? It's like your cunt is begging me to not stop since your pretty mouth can't do it for you. You're so close, aren't you baby?” Your eyes become glassy, the pleasure overwhelming your senses as you whimper in a pathetic response.

His shoulders are so wide, you can barely even see the ceiling. It would definitely would be fun to leave blooming marks for him to cover up in the morning. A calculated thrust snaps you out of your daydreaming. “Come on, darling. Let all the neighbours know who makes you feel this good.”

His hand snakes towards your throbbing clit, giving it some needed attention after what feels like an eternity. “Hah— 'm close! Cum? Can I cum?” You plead.

“I know you're close darling. Say I'm yours and I'll let you cum.” The quick movements on your clit never stop, if anything they only speed up at his request.

“I'm yours! Yours, yours, Zayne! Mmm, my boyfriend is fucking me so good!” You cry out, your pleasure filled mind begging for release.

“Say that again, darling.”

“Boyfriend fucking me so good! Love it so much, please let me cum!” His eyes lock onto yours, filled with need and desire.

“Only your boyfriend can make you feel this good, can't he?” He greedily presses his fingers into the side of your hips. “Need to see you make a mess. Cum for me.” His thick mushroom head bullies your sweet spot in an uneven rhythm, a bead of sweat falls down his temples.

You don't even comprehend what comes out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes into you. Waves of pleasure run through your body as you blindly grab onto Zayne to ground yourself. You weakly open your eyes and watch Zayne's movements begin to falter as he finds release, hot white spurts of his cum finding home inside your fluttering walls.

With gentleness reserved only for you, he pulls out and finds a spot next to you on the bed. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi boyfriend.” His ears burn with a red ruby colour. You smile, albeit exhausted and snuggle up closer to him.

“I wasn't too much, was I?” He asks, his eyes raking down your body to see the beginning of littered dark marks forming on your skin. “I'm sorry if I hurt you, darling.”

“You didn't, Zaynie. Besides, I wouldn't mind it if you did.” The corner of your lips goes up ever so slightly, feeling the exhaustion clear instantly.

“We have tomorrow off, don't we? Don't you think it's time for you to fulfil your promise of round two?” Your finger trails down his chest and Zayne exhales heavily.

“Let me make my handsome boyfriend feel good, hm?” You look into his eyes for confirmation and latch onto his neck when he begs you for more.

Walking to the lunch cafeteria, you feel a hand appear out of nowhere and pull you into the storage closet you know all too well. “Who are— Zayne?” You exclaim and he places a hand over your mouth to quieten you down, so you bite on his fingers as revenge. He removes his hand, and you rub your hands over the bite marks to soothe the pain.

“Why are we in here?” You question your boyfriend.

“Darling, do you remember this little room?” He asks and you nod quickly in hopes he lets you free to hurry down to the cafeteria. “This was the room where you called us acquaintances. I was not particularly happy with that label on our relationship.”

“Baby, you were the one who told me and I quote, “This is not how acquaintances act around each other,” so it was you, not me.” He only pouts and you kiss his lips as a quick act of comfort. “Can we go now? It's lunch, you know that they serve my favourite lasagna on Mondays!”

“I'm not hungry for that kind of lunch right now.” He replies, caging you between him and the door. “Let me have my lunch, hm?” Realising what he wants, you let him press his body against yours as you impatiently await his lips on yours.

“Hold on, let me get a mop and bucket first!” A muffled voice says through the other side of the door and you feel your skin grow cold at the thought of someone discovering something that definitely should not be happening in a hospital storage closet.

Zayne's hand instinctively reaches for the handle, clearly looking stressed. But your mind strays elsewhere, as you notice the prominent veins on his arms and hands as he uses all his strength to keep the door closed.

“I think the door's locked, Joseph! Just wait a minute, I'll go grab the keys from reception!” The voice fades into the distance and you silently let out a sigh of relief.

“He's gone.” Zayne lets out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you, my knight in shining armour. So brave, so strong.” You thank him, running your hands down his arms. “We have to hurry before Joseph's friend comes and finds us, don't we?” Zayne's eyes become heavy lidded, one hand on the door and the other resting above your head.

His forehead rests on yours, forcing you to make eye contact with him, sending a swarm of butterflies down your stomach. “My gorgeous darling.” He breathes out before greedily capturing your lips. Your chest presses against his and he shudders at the sensation.

“If we reveal our relationship one day, everyone is going to know who you belong to. Kisses—” He places a kiss on your jawline. “Here,” soft kisses press against your pulse point. “and here.”

The sound of rattling against the door stops your boyfriend in his tracks, going back to putting all of his attention on the door.

You pout, undoing a few of his top buttons to reveal his collarbone. Lifting yourself off the door, you attach yourself to him and leave open mouthed kisses against the hidden area that only you can look at.

“It's not working.” Joseph's friend mutters under his breath. “Joseph, I'm going to try another storage closet, I won't be too long!” He walks away, and you wrap your arms around Zayne's waist.

“He should be gone for good now, baby.” You rub circles around his waist. “But about the revealing the relationship—”

“I'm sorry if I forced something onto you that you don't want to do, my love.” He replies and you shake your head.

“I want to. I just don't know the best time to reveal it. Perhaps the award ceremony, since we're both nominees for the same award?”

“I think that's a wonderful idea.” He pats your head. “Now should we go get your lasagna?” You shake your head, your fingers running against the faint marks against his collarbone before fixing up his buttons.

“Now we can, as long as you let me go first to get my lasagna before it runs out.”

“Are you sure it's not to avoid us exposing our relationship to the whole of the hospital?” You cover your mouth in fake shock. “Both.” Kissing his cheek, you leave him to stop the flush on his cheeks from reddening more as you open the door.

“Over here, Y/n!” Yvonne calls out your name, and you spot her with the other surgical trainees. Walking past the tables, you sit down on the chair opposite Yvonne and place the precious lasagna onto the table.

“It looks like everyone is here?” Looking around the table, you pretend to not notice the seat next to you, intended for your secret boyfriend.

“Zayne isn't.” Greyson replies, and you open your mouth into a small 'o' shape as you pretend to remember his existence. “Have you seen him, by the way? I wonder if he will get here in time before the cheesecakes from the counter are all gone.”

“Not on my way here, no.” You bite into the lasagna, the taste making you instantly smile. “Oh. There he is.” You point to the man hovering over the dessert section. He sits beside you, pretending to not pay any attention to you.

“Since we are finishing our first year as doctors soon and have all passed our specialisation exams, which hospitals are you guys going to work at?” Yvonne asks, grabbing a spoonful of rice.

“The one in Skyhaven, I'm already dreading the long journey there.”

“I'm heading to Chansia, I hope it's as peaceful as people say it is.”

Hearing everyone is going their separate ways, you pick at your lasagna as your appetite slips away with every passing minute. “I'm staying here, thankfully.” Zayne answers, his warm hand is placed on your thigh, drawing small circles to comfort you.

“I am too.” You reply, reaching under the table with your free hand, you feel for Zayne's hand.

“We all need to keep in touch, guys! I have absolutely no idea how, considering our schedules are somehow going to be more intense, but I expect a reunion at least twice a year!” Yvonne points at each person on the table, making eye contact with everyone.

“Of course, don't even worry about it. You wouldn't let us live it down in the group chat, Yvonne.” You reply, causing everyone to laugh.

His large hand reaches for yours, tracing the lines on your palms before interlocking your fingers with his. His calloused thumb rubs the back of your hand gently, hiding back a smirk when you jolt slightly at the sensation.

“Are you okay, Y/n? You jumped in your seat. Was it a fly or something?” Greyson asks, putting all of the attention on you.

“Yep, I'm okay. Just hit my foot against the bar under the table, no worries.” You say through your teeth, hoping they move on and find a new topic to talk about.

“I've been working here for almost a full year and you're telling me there was a bar under the table? How have I not given myself bruises yet?” Yvonne's head dips under the table, and you immediately shove Zayne's hand away from you.

Heat rushes to your face and you tap your foot against the floor to calm down your racing heartbeat. “There actually is one! I think it's a miracle I haven't hit my foot against it yet. It's a sign that next year will go smoothly!” Unsure of what to say, you hum in agreement, picking up your fork to eat your lasagna with one hand as your other finds Zayne's under the table.

“Zayne, why are you eating your lasagna with one hand? Cutting just using a fork seems troublesome.” Greyson butts in, and you feel his hand grip yours tighter.

“I want to get more comfortable with using my left hand for surgeries. Is there a problem, Greyson?” Your boyfriend replies, causing Greyson to compliment him on his dedication for wanting to improve quickly.

Glancing at the clock, your shoulders relax as the time reaches 12:53. “Guys, we have seven more minutes before lunch ends. We should probably go.” Shoving the last bite of lasagna in, you give Zayne's hand a quick squeeze before heading off to put your plate away.

You sit in the large hall that Akso has rented out for the awards ceremony, admiring the blue decorations and banners that cover the walls as you await for the next award to be revealed. Looking over to Zayne who sits next to you, he gives you a gentle smile with a quiet nod which instantly calms your nerves.

“The last award to be announced will be the 'Most Promising Rookie Surgeon of the Year’. Will the nominees please stand up and make their way to the stage, please?” The hospital director asks and you smooth the material of your dress before standing up alongside Zayne.

Shuffling past others in the row to get to the front, the director notices you and Zayne. “Ah yes, the infamous double-trouble duo, Doctor L/n and Doctor Li. Doctor Zhou, you must have had your hands full with these two in the same department.” Everyone laughs as Doctor Zhou eagerly nods her head in agreement.

You make your way up the stage, intentionally walking slower up the stairs to prevent falling with your heels on. “With these two under our radar, our future patients will be in very good hands.” Standing side by side, you notice the large bouquet of flowers that will be given to the winner.

“Regardless of the results, being nominated for such an impressive award is truly an amazing feat. It only starts the future of an exciting career.” He smiles. “But alas, there must only one winner. The winner for the 'Most Promising Rookie Surgeon of the Year’ is… Doctor L/n!”

Loud cheers flood your ears, and you see everyone on the general surgery team giving you proud smiles and claps. Turning around to face Zayne, he smiles as if he holds all the stars in his eyes. “Congrats, my love.” His lips read.

You feel the large bouquet of flowers end up in your arms, and you're gently ushered towards the microphone for your short speech. “I— wow. Being a nominee was truly enough for me, but I would just like to thank all those who helped me get to this point. The lovely patients who taught me the importance of putting others before myself, the general surgery team especially my mentor, Doctor Zhou.” You face Zayne, and he nods, giving you confirmation.

You move the microphone slightly so you face him as you give your speech. “Most importantly, to my pillar of support. Zayne Li. I know that we had an extremely rocky start, but somewhere along the way, you understood me and helped me become someone that others could rely on. Thank you, my love.” The cheers start up again, and you take a celebratory picture with your flowers on stage.

Murmurs of the audience begin to rev up, people talking about how they find it hard to believe that the two people who wanted to take out each other's guts somehow became lovers.

The deadly combination of large flowers blocking your view and tall heels make you unstable on your feet as you walk towards the end of the stage. Above your view of the flowers, you notice Zayne making his way down the stairs and waits down at the bottom.

A familiar hand patiently hangs in the air, waiting for you to take it. You barely manage to hold your hand out and he stabilises you, preventing you from falling down the steps.

The murmurs immediately stop and are replaced with gasps, realising that you weren't lying about your relationship. Disappointed sighs are heard from certain members of the audience, with them talking about how they won't be able to shoot their shot with Zayne or you, making you smile up at Zayne.

Making your way back down to your seats, you hold the flowers in one hand and Zayne's hand in the other. He guides you to your seat, helping you place the flowers on the floor. Yvonne turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face as she asks you when you started to date Zayne. You laugh, elbowing her to stay quiet as the ceremony comes to a close.

Zayne holds your flowers as the entire general surgery department stand outside the hall. “So are you going to tell us exactly how this relationship started or am I going to need to hack into your phone?” Yvonne asks, eyeing your purse that Zayne conveniently also holds.

“That's going to take too long, I'm going to need a few hours for that one!” Yvonne's jaw drops, realising there is so much more to the story than she thought.

“The entire department hosted a bet about you guys.” You look at Zayne, who looks equally confused. “We wanted to see if the tension you guys had would either end up in one of you guys— or both— stabbing each other in the back or if you would end up together. Thankfully, Yvonne and I won.” Greyson high fives Yvonne whilst everyone else sighs, taking out large bills out of their wallets.

“If you told me last year I would be in a relationship with Zayne, I would have laughed in your face. Especially after I intentionally picked a fight with him after we met.” Zayne chuckles as he reminisces your first interaction.

“I had too much confidence for someone who thought it would be best to listen to instructions to a stranger instead of a receptionist on how to get to lecture hall C5.”

“C5? Darling, you asked me where lecture hall E5 was, not C5.” Your jaw drops, realising that this entire time, Zayne never meant to intentionally set you up and send you to the wrong place.

“Your reasoning for starting a six year feud was because he sent you to the wrong lecture hall?” Doctor Zhou asks, clearly amused.

“In my defence, I asked for C5 and not E5— he made me late to the first lecture that I desperately wanted to make a good first impression in. It was extremely loud that day, C and E do sound quite similar when you shout them at someone.” You grin, with everyone still shocked at your levels of pettiness.

“Anyways, I'm glad things ended well for us.” You say, and Zayne kisses your temple lovingly.

“I'm hungry.” Greyson sighs, pretending to not see your public display of affection.

“Should we go to the barbecue place for dinner?”

“As long as Y/n doesn't get too drunk and jump into the fountain, call a good friend before falling asleep after her makeup is removed.” Your boyfriend replies with a grin, and your hand flies up to cover his mouth.

“You did what?” Yvonne turns to face you in shock, her mouth open.

“Dinner sounds wonderful, Greyson!” You swiftly change the topic, turning on your heel as you walk towards your car. Zayne closely follows, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours.

intellectual property of ©hirayalia, 2026. do not copy or feed to ai.

It seems like every single university student has had the same idea of deciding to reduce their carbon footprint today, with everyone cramped in the same bus that you are in.

After a few “excuse me's”, you find refuge in a less crowded area and lean against the wall whilst you wait for the bus to get to your stop.

With the automated voice announcing your stop, a large chunk of the crowd gets off and you finally have enough personal space for the first time in twenty minutes.

You step down the steps, with your phone in hand whilst you follow the online map on your phone. The next instruction from your phone's map is to cross the road and like the law abiding citizen you are, you wait at the pedestrian crossing until the little man at the traffic light turns green.

With the sound of loud beeping filling the street, you walk towards the opposite side of the crossing. The map orientates itself whilst you change direction and another loud, blaring sound fills your ears.

Looking up to the cause of the sound, a speedy white car drives towards you. Running towards safety, you check the little man at the crossing, only to see that he is happily glowing green without a care in the world.

So much for a good start to the first day of university.

Walking up to the entrance, your eyes scan the building walls for a sign showing all the information about the rooms in the building. But just as lady luck would have it, nothing of said sign is found.

With loud conversations coming at you from left and right and your patience running thin, you decide to spare yourself more pain and walk up to the nearest person, praying silently that they know where your room is.

“Excuse me?” You tap the shoulder of a tall, black haired student. “Do you know where lecture hall C5 is?”

“Sorry, do you mind repeating that? It’s hard to hear what you’re saying over all this noise.” He asks, bringing his ear closer to you.

“Do you know where lecture hall C5 is?” You repeat, making your voice louder.

“It’s on the fifth floor, get on the lift, take a left and you should get there.” The man points to a set of grey, shiny doors and you quickly thank him before running off into the lift.

The lift stops at the fifth floor after picking up and dropping off people at every single floor and as soon as the doors open, you squeeze past others on the lift, mumbling a few apologies before dashing to the left to get to your room.

Doors are plastered with signs that all begin with E, but no C5. You do a quick 360 degree spin, only to be met with more rooms that are also E. Checking the time on your watch, you feel your heart sink knowing that the lecture has officially started.

There goes your chance at making a good first impression, you will forever be known as the student who was late on the first day. You sigh and walk back to the lift doors.

Your eyes wander and you find yourself finally looking at the information board. Level 3: lecture halls C1 to C31. Better late than never.

Heart pounding, you slowly open the door in an attempt to not draw attention to yourself but it betrays you, making a loud squeaking sound that proudly announces your presence. Bracing yourself for an embarrassing conversation with the professor in front of the whole class, you anxiously hold your breath.

But the professor says nothing, only staring at you with their eyebrow raised at your terrible punctuality before continuing on about something to do with what textbooks they recommend borrowing from the library.

Your eyes search the area for a free seat, finding one at the opposite end of the row that you're standing next to. “Excuse me, sorry, can I get through please?” You quietly ask, feeling the embarrassment wash over you.

The person looks up to face you, and all embarrassment is quickly replaced with anger. It’s the guy who gave the wrong directions to this room.

He shakes his head, frowning at you before grabbing his backpack to make space for you to squeeze through the little space for you to get to the free seat at the end of the row.

What kind of ass of a person gives someone the wrong directions and proceeds to act cocky?

Making it to the end of the row, you sit down on the free chair with a growing feeling that you found someone to keep an eye out for.

The hour quickly ends, filled with what to expect during the upcoming academic year, to who you can go to if you need any extra support. Everyone makes a beeline for the exit, eager to make friends on the first day.

But you? You follow the person who has ruined the first impression that the professor has of you.

Petty? Without a doubt. But extremely necessary.

“Excuse me?” You tap the shoulder of a familiar black buttoned up man who turns around. “I understand medical school is competitive and all, but don't you think it's completely unnecessary to purposely lead a fellow medical student to the wrong room on the very first day?”

“I'm sorry, but were you not the person who asked a fellow student for directions? Don't you think you should have asked a receptionist or at least have better observational skills on an important day like this? Maybe then, you wouldn't have needed to ask me in such a crowded corridor and misheard me.” He sighs.

“It might be difficult for you to believe, but I am not the type of person who would purposely sabotage someone else over a matter like this.” Despite this being your second conversation with him, you tell that he was being genuine.

But you’re too far deep into hating him. “Well then,” You glance at the name tag stuck on his chest.

“Zayne Li. Why did you shake your head at me when I came in late?” You cross your arms over your chest. “How am I meant to believe you? This is our second conversation after all. How are you going to prove it?”

“I had a neck cramp. But if you don't believe me, then that's on you. I know that I’m right and somewhere deep down, you know it too. Now if you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” He says, adjusting his backpack straps and makes his way to the exit.

“Does anyone have any questions?” The professor asks, pulling the microphone away from her mouth but not quick enough for a quiet sigh to reach the speakers.

The rest of the class groan and some place their heads on the desks, as they prepare themselves to stay back for an extra ten minutes.

Your hand shoots up quickly and you try to find a certain someone’s hand somewhere in the large crowd of people. The professor gestures for you to ask first. “Do you have any extra resources that you recommend for extra reading?”

“Yes, it will be attached to the email when I send out next week’s readings.” She says and points to Zayne.

“Do you know of any recent research papers that I could look through?”

“I will email them to you separately.” The professor sits down on the chair, making it very obvious that she is going to have an incoming headache.

You raise your hand. “Yes Y/n, I will email you the same thing.” You meekly lower your hand.

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Will there be an opportunity for extra credit?” Zayne asks, and the professor shakes her head and dismisses everyone in the lecture hall.

You grab your bag and find Simone and Tara in the swarm of people, making your way to the exit of the hall. “I don’t understand, why does he keep trying to one-up me?” Tara pats your shoulder comfortingly and Simone just sighs.

“Did I just hear you say that you didn't understand something, L/n?” Zayne approaches you with what seems to be amusement.

The stupid expression on his face is practically begging for you to slap it right off.

“What on earth do you want, Li?” You look at him, clearly annoyed. “Why are you even here in the first place? Don't you have to be in the library or something?”

“I do actually, why? Are you that interested in me to the point where you know my schedule down to the second?” He replies, clearly amused at your expression.

“Bold of you to assume that I would pay that much interest towards you.” You scoff. “I just know that your antisocial ass willingly locks yourself in the library until the librarian kicks you out of the building.”

“Glad to know that I spend more time studying than you. Clearly, I know where my priorities lie.” Zayne replies.

“That's because you study inefficiently. A lecture that would take you four hours would take me less than half the amount of time to learn. Besides, I actually have a life outside studying. Speaking of which,” You check your phone for the time. “we have to go to make the lunch reservation we made!” Tara and Simone look at you wide eyed, completely forgetting about your shared lunch plans.

Zayne stares as you quickly forget about him, walking away with Simone and Tara chatting about the restaurant’s new seasonal menu.

You sit in the massive lecture hall, your laptop sitting on the desk, bright as a flashlight in order to keep yourself from falling asleep in the lecture. Tara sits on your left, shopping online for crystals and tarot cards whilst Simone somehow plays a random RPG game with the volume muted.

“We have a simulated case to end this lecture.” Your ears perk up. “Patient is a female, two years old and has been diagnosed with ADHD and has come in with her parents over concerns of a deviated eye. What test would you do after a case history is done?”

You raise your hand without any hesitation, keen to be the first one to get the answer right. The professor points towards you. “You would do a cover test first.”

“Yes, you could do a cover test first. Is there anyone else with another answer?” Your professor asks the rest of the class whilst you tilt your head in confusion. What other test would you do first apart from cover test?

“You could test their visual acuity.” You hear a familiar voice that never fails to get your blood pressure rising.

“Yes, you could do a visual acuity test first, Zayne.” You shake your head in disbelief. “Y/n, can you explain why you believe that a cover test should be done first?”

You clear your throat, “The results from the cover test would help confirm if the patient actually has a deviated eye or if it could be pseudostrabismus. In the case that the patient did have a deviated eye, it may help with expectations about what their visual acuity could be.”

Your professor nods, her hair bouncing as her head moves. “Zayne? What do you think?”

“Doing a visual acuity test can help with predictions about what you are roughly able to expect in a cover test, predicting which eye is the non-fixing eye. The patient has ADHD and is young, so it may be more beneficial to do the visual acuity test whilst they are cooperative.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Do you have any counterpoints to Zayne's point, Y/n?” You nod, smiley politely in response before staring down the insane maniac across the lecture hall who thinks doing a visual acuity test should be done first.

“It is imperative that you understand if the patient truly has a deviation.” You cross your arms over your chest.

You take a deep breath in, trying to not let Zayne's foolish and idiotic words get the best of you. “If the patient does lose focus and cooperation, you will be able to get a vague estimation of their visual acuity using a photoscreener.”

From across the hall, you notice him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It only makes you straighten your shoulders proudly in victory.

“Alright. I can tell that you are both very passionate about this, however if you do want to continue this, please do so in your spare time. The varied answers suggest that you can do either of the tests first, as long as you have the evidence to back up your point. That ends this lecture today everyone, I will see you next week.”

You shove your laptop into your bag completely leaving behind Simone and Tara, keen on finding the man who enjoys sending you into an academic rage. He stands outside the door to the lecture hall, absentmindedly checking the time on his watch.

“So as a practitioner, you would do the visual acuity test first. Interesting. Definitely a unique way of doing an appointment with a patient.” You say, and he looks up from his shiny watch.

“I didn't explicitly say I would do the visual acuity test first— I was simply answering the professor's question. But if we are assuming that I would do a visual acuity test over a cover test, then yes, I do see the benefits. Using the photoscreener can only get you so far, as it is a vague estimation meaning that the results it produces will not be one hundred percent correct. Just like you mentioned earlier.”

Motherfucker is putting the words into my mouth.

“Why get a vague estimation when you can get reliable results?”

“As long as you get both of the tests done before any other test and the results recorded, nobody is going to ask you which one you decided to do first!” You hear a familiar rushed voice and turning around, you see Tara and Simone who look like they could use a week long holiday.

“Now come on, Y/n! We have another lecture to get to in ten minutes!” Tara says whilst Simone gets a hold of your arm, ready to drag you around campus herself if needed.

“Okay, let me just say one more thing and then we can go.” Tara and Simone look at each other hesitantly before nodding. “Why do you enjoy making my academic life hell?” You ask, causing Zayne to press his lips together.

“Because you enjoy doing the same.” He replies ever so nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.

Unfortunately, you cannot fathom the fact that he is correct for once, so you bite your tongue whilst Simone proceeds to grab onto your arm and drag you like a doll to the next lecture.

The sound of people discussing their test scores fills the room, with some celebrating and other sighing in their seats. Your hands become damp with sweat and you rub them against the material of your trousers underneath the table.

The professor hands you your test, a smile graced on her face. “Well done, Y/n. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you.” You take the test sheet, looking at the circled 99% at the top of the paper. She walks off, handing the next test to Zayne.

He smiles at her and his warm smile turns dark as he makes eye contact with you. It's filled with nothing but sarcasm and potential to scar an innocent child.

“If you haven't noticed, I gave out the tests from lowest to highest. If anyone has any questions, you can come to my office during office hours or email me. Enjoy your weekend, see you next Monday.” You sit in your seat, staring at the test sheet in denial.

How on earth did you manage to lose to Zayne? By one point?

Sighing, you fold your sheet into half before shoving it into your pocket and heading out the door as inconspicuously as possible.

“L/n.” You roll your eyes, recognising the pride in Zayne's voice instantly. “Getting 98 is an amazing score. You should be very proud of yourself.”

98? Turning around to face his smug face, you quickly glance at the sheet Zayne holds in his hand. 99.

“Actually, I got a 99. I didn't get a 98, Li.” You point to his sheet. “You got a 99 too. You should be very proud of yourself, what a great achievement!” You clasp your hands together, applauding for him.

The smug look on his face disappears, only to be replaced with a feeling you believe to be annoyance. “I see. We both got the highest score on the exam then. What question did you get wrong?” Flicking through the pages, you find the question marked wrong and show him.

“If a patient has nasal corneal reflections, they…” He reads, scanning the paper. “Do not have an esotropia.” He looks up. “They have an exotropia, obviously.”

“Obviously.” You reply, looking over to the side. “I just misread the answers. Now, show me your answers.”

Zayne hands you his paper and you grin when you find the question marked wrong. “Protanopia is caused by not enough energy being transduced or the complete absence of which cone pigment? You answered: M cones.” You laugh, covering it up as a bad cough.

“The answer is L cones. I just also happened to misread the answers too. I believe your mistake was much worse than mine. If a child with a limited attention span only let you do corneal reflections on them and you say they have an esotropia instead of an exotropia, it could cause confusion for other healthcare workers who will see their notes.”

“Yes, of course. If you order the wrong colour correcting glasses for a patient— imagine the distress on their face when they realise their doctor has made a mistake and they have to wait even longer to see full colour vision. Absolutely terrible.” Zayne sighs, taking back his test paper.

“Good thing we are still students, right?” You plaster a fake smile on your face. “We have so much to learn before treating our lovely patients, don't we?”

“Welcome to Akso Hospital!” A grey haired man says cheerfully, a smile adorned on his face.

“I understand that you may have many questions and your consultants will be able to explain without even breaking a sweat.” He chuckles and points to a group of senior doctors standing in front of you.

“When you arrived this morning, you were allocated a number and are now separated into groups. Each group represents a certain speciality, such as psychiatrists, dermatologists and so on. These are the people who you will be training with during your time at Akso, so get on their good side!” You turn around and face your fellow general surgeons, giving them a polite, friendly smile.

You make eye contact with a familiar green, hazel eyed man. Your smile immediately becomes stiff, as if your jaw has automatically clicked into place.

Zayne is in the same group as you. Zayne is going to be training with you.

A tall brown haired woman walks up to your group, smiles and introduces herself as the consultant general surgeon. “I understand that not all of you will be staying as general surgeons, as some of you will branch off into other surgical specialities after you complete your core surgical training. But I look forward to working with each and every one of you.”

You only have one year of this general surgeon training and then you go off into neurosurgery. One year is nothing.

The consultant leads the way to the shared office of all core training general surgeons, and shows important things: the uncomfortable beds you would sleep in during night shifts and the fancy coffee machine. She quickly leaves, letting everyone get to know each other.

You immediately turn around to face Zayne. “I really thought this would be a new chapter where you would not be in it. What are the chances we are both doing this core training together?” A fake smile is plastered on your face.

“Luckily, it’s only for a year since I’ll be going into neurosurgery after the training.”

“Good to know. I’ll be doing cardiac surgery after this year.” You nod, not wanting to contribute more to the extremely lacklustre conversation.

After making your rounds, you decide to spend time with the younger patients. To your surprise, Zayne is there too, busy tending to a stuffed penguin's injured wing.

You sit down on the round tea table where a little girl pours fake tea into her teacups for her plushies. “What’s your name, sweetheart? May I have some tea as well please?” She nods happily, eagerly passing you a teacup whilst introducing herself as Daisy.

You quickly learn she likes strawberries and she's very curious about being a doctor. “Dr L/n, is the brain or heart more important?”

“Well both are very important, but I think the brain is more important than the heart.” You reply and Daisy hums, going back to her teacups. Daisy gives you another teacup of tea but before your hand touches the handle, you hear footsteps making its way to the table.

You look up to the owner of the footsteps, only to see Zayne siting down at the table. “Daisy, can I tell you something?” He asks the little girl who nods in agreement. “Dr L/n is wrong about the brain being more important than the heart. I think that the heart is more important than the brain.”

What on earth is he doing?

“Really, Doctor Li? Why is the heart more important than the brain?” Daisy asks, very intrigued at this new opinion.

“The heart pumps blood to all of the important things in the body, like your lungs and your brain. If the heart doesn't pump your blood to the important places in your body, you’re going to get very tired very quickly.” Zayne says with a smile, specifically targeted at you.

If he wants to play this game, then I’ll fucking play along.

“Then Dr L/n, why do you think that the brain is more important than the heart?” Daisy looks up at you, completely unaware of this emotional tug-of-war she unintentionally created.

“Your brain is very smart Daisy! Your brain is always telling your heart to keep on pumping the blood to the rest of your body so you can stay healthy and strong.” You say, a smile plastered on your face as you look at Zayne.

“Your heart helps you show all the love you have for your friends and family. Do you feel happy when you give friends hugs?” Zayne asks, and Daisy agrees. “It’s your heart that tells you to be happy when you give your friends hugs.”

So he is playing the emotional card. Two can play at this game, Li.

“Daisy?” You call out her name and she averts her gaze to you. “Can you tell me about a fun day you had with your friends?”

“When me and my friends went to the park and we played at the playground all day!” She smiles happily.

“Well sweetheart, your brain remembers all the happy memories you have had with your friends. So whenever you feel sad, you can think about the fun day you had at the park and you will be happy again.” You say and Daisy runs off to find one of her friends.

“I guess the brain is more important than the heart.” You smirk at Zayne and stand up behind the tiny chair, ready to grab a coffee.

“Well if the brain stopped working and the heart kept pumping, at least you would still be alive.” Zayne replies casually, tucking his chair under the table.

“Alive, sure. But living like a normal person? No way in hell.” You say in a hushed tone, not trying to attract attention from the ever-so curious children in the room. “What would you do if you had no brain? You wouldn’t be able to learn about your silly little heart if you didn’t have anywhere to apply the knowledge to in the first place.”

“Well for someone who surely advocates for the brain, you clearly don’t use it enough. Whilst you were doing rounds earlier today, I overheard the consultant asking you why you forgot to bring a notepad along with you. How embarrassing.” He chuckles and you scowl at him.

Just as you were going to answer back, you notice Greyson and Yvonne, two of your fellow surgeons approach you and Zayne.

“Okay that’s enough arguing for the day. The kids are staring.” Yvonne holds your arm, leads you away from Zayne and into the office to calm down.

You sit near the nurses’ station, a cup of coffee nearby as you read the medical history of your next patient arriving in twenty minutes. The atmosphere is peaceful, the nurses are typing away on their keyboards and the sound of baby sensory videos can be heard from the waiting area.

As you bring the cup of coffee up to your lips, a loud voice interrupts the peace. “What do you mean I cannot donate my liver?” You turn around to check where the voice is coming from and see the sign that has Zayne’s name on it.

Muffled speech can be heard from Zayne, most likely trying to calm down an angry family member. The sound of a hand aggressively hitting the desk resonates throughout the floor, causing even the focused children to peel their eyes away from their dancing fruit videos.

The handle of the door opens, revealing a middle aged man who is far from happy. He makes his way over to the nurses station. “Get me another fucking doctor. This guy doesn't know shit. You doctors keep going on about how difficult it is to find a donor that matches but when a matching person comes along, it’s not possible to donate?” The nurses desperately try to calm him down, explaining to him that this is not the place for explicit language.

“Do I look like I’m playing around? I want another doctor!”

“Excuse me sir, what seems to be the problem?” Getting out of your seat, you make your way over to the nurses’ station, gripping onto your white coat like a lifeline.

“This guy told me I couldn't donate my liver to my sister who is on her deathbed!” He angrily points at Zayne who says nothing. “Please doctor, I just want to help her. Tell me I can donate my liver to her.” He pleads, his countenance softening ever so slightly.

“Is there a specific reason he can’t donate his liver?” You look at Zayne.

“He has a liver with a fifteen percent fat content. I have explained to him that the limit is ten percent, as any more can put the recipient at more risk.” Zayne sighs and you frown, immediately knowing that nothing can be done.

“I’m sorry sir, but Doctor Li is right. You may be able to donate in the future but you will have to decrease the fat content through lifestyle choices such as exercise, a balanced diet and refraining from alcohol.”

“All you doctors sound like a broken record! I thought this was the best hospital in the city and you can’t accept my liver? Fucking bullshit.” Over his shoulder, the security comes over and harshly grabs him.

“Let me go!” He tries escaping, only to be pulled away. “Just wait until my lawyer hears about this. I will sue this hospital so badly that the only medicine you will give is paracetamol!” The man shouts even louder until he’s no longer in sight.

You look at Zayne who sighs for the nth time today. “Penny for your thoughts?” He seems like he could need a helping hand, just this once.

“I just find it hard to empathise with people who behave in that manner. I understand that I am fortunate to have not been in a position like that in the past, but when a doctor tells you there is no loophole or way to work around it, isn't it time to face the truth?”

“Well, I think you’re looking at it from a medical personnel perspective. You're trying to face the problem as someone who is only able to give proper solutions. But have you tried facing the problem as someone who could lose a precious family member? You saw the way he softened when he mentioned how all he wanted to do was to help his sister. He just wants to do the best he can.”

“You’re right. Thank you.” Zayne concedes.

“It’s time for my next appointment. See you around.” You nod your head as a goodbye, walking off to your consultation room.

You close the door, setting up your desk for the next patient, trying to make it look presentable after rummaging through the mismatched files when a senior doctor requested an extra copy to read through before surgery.

With all the papers finally stacked into neat piles and tucked away into a corner to worry about later, the door opens with one of the nurses asking if you are ready.

You clear your throat and nod, bringing up the results of the patient as they come in. “Hello, Doctor L/n. It’s nice to see you again.” You look up and smile, making sure that Oliver feels comfortable in the chair.

“How have you been?” You ask, placing your hands on the desk.

“I've been doing well. I have been consistently taking my medication and I try my best to eat and sleep well.”

“That's great news to hear!” You reply, looking at the results on the computer in front of you. “The results from last week's blood results look great too, so there should be nothing to worry about. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I'm quite nervous. Like a kidney transplant is a big thing. I know I'll be in safe hands and all, but I just can't help but feel this sense of anxiety.” Oliver rubs his hands together nervously.

“It is not a minor surgery, that I can tell you with certainty. I can't confirm that everything will go smoothly since surgery is unpredictable but I will be in the room, assisting in the surgery and I will do my absolute best. The road to recovery may not be easy, but once you have fully recovered, the freedom will be like nothing else you have ever felt before.”

“Thank you, Doctor L/n. I trust you.” The words make your heart swell with a strange mix of pride and sadness.

Oliver is the same age as you and it feels like a sick twist of fate knowing that he has endured so much pain yet still does his best to carry on. If you were in the same situation as him, you wouldn't be half as calm and collected as he is.

He constantly brings sweet treats for the staff, ranging from brownies to cupcakes despite it being prohibited to accept any type of gifts from patients. No matter how hard you try to politely decline, Oliver refuses to take no for answer and threatens to stay longer at the hospital.

How could you make a man who spends almost all of his time at the hospital stay even longer? It's pretty unfair to say to other patients that you have favourites, but Oliver is definitely one of them.

“I will do my best to ensure that you trust in me never wavers.” You put on a smile, trying to stay professional despite the feeling of melancholy bloom.

“Considering that the test results look good, there should be no reason to push back the surgery. I will get the paperwork done and ensure that you are admitted for surgery next Monday. Of course, if you have any questions, please feel free to reach out to me or any member of staff.”

Finishing the last consultation of the shift, you close the door behind you and make your way to the shared office, only to see your fellow surgeons crowded near the door.

“Why are you guys all crowded around the door like chipmunks?” They all turn around, facing you as if they have just seen a ghost.

“You scared us! We thought you were someone important, you know, like the hospital director.”

“Geez, that’s nice to know. But you still haven't answered my question.”

“Zayne is listening to what the consultant has to say after the whole liver transplant thing from today.” Greyson says, and you peep through the small window to see him nodding as the consultant continues to talk.

“I need to go in.” You announce to the group whilst they stare at you like you have suggested to do surgery blindfolded.

“No way. Do you want to get yourself into trouble too?” They crowd around the handle of the door, preventing you from going in.

“I was there whilst it happened. Not for the whole thing, but I was the one the patient talked to after they requested another doctor to talk to. I need to hear what the consultant has to say, it’s not just his fault— it’s mine too.” One by one, the group hesitantly disperses.

You knock on the door. “Who is it?” The consultant asks, not taking her eyes off of Zayne.

“It’s Y/n. Can I come in, please?” The door opens in front of you. Zayne stares like a baby deer in headlights whilst you stand opposite the consultant.

“From what I’ve heard, you were also there whilst the patient’s outburst occurred. Can you tell me things from your side of the story?”

You give your side of the story, starting with the shouting in Zayne's room and ending with the threat of suing the hospital, with paracetamol being the only thing that could be administered to patients.

“Well, at least your stories match.” She sighs.

“Wait, before whatever punishment you give us, can I just say something?” You ask and she nods.

“I understand that the patient’s sibling has every right to be frustrated. But it doesn't excuse the fact that he was incredibly rude. Not just to us, but to the other staff too.”

“I’m not mad, you two. You did everything right. You handled it as well as you could have done. Personally, I don't think there should be any consequences. It’s only your second month working in this massive hospital after all. But tensions were high and many patients were scared of what could have happened next. Higher ups have received complaints. There’s a disciplinary meeting scheduled for tonight. I’ll be there as support. I won't let anything bad happen.”

“Thank you, Doctor Zhou.” Zayne says and you thank her too as she leaves the room. “You didn't need to come in, L/n.”

“I know, but it helps clear things up.” You fiddle with the sleeve of your scrubs.

“I could have handled it fine myself but thank you. For everything you’ve done today. You really didn't need to.” He coughs, an awkward air rising in the room.

“Of course. Just because we have some history doesn't mean we can't look out for each other, especially in moments like these.” You smile sheepishly.

The atmosphere becomes even more awkward, this feeling being uncharted territory between you and Zayne.

“Besides, suing the hospital is bad for both of us. I don't think I want to feel the wrath of patients when I tell them they can have paracetamol as their only form of pain relief.” You laugh, trying to deflect this weird feeling in your heart.

Walking out of the conference room, Doctor Zhou catches up with you. “How are you taking the news?”

“It’s a lot better than I thought it would be. Luckily the mandatory seminar about dealing with patient behaviour is only two hours and there’s no pay cut.”

“At least you managed to find the silver lining.” Doctor Zhou chuckles and excuses herself after getting a phone call.

“What about the mandatory shifts for next week?” Zayne asks, and you wince in response.

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to that. Might resort to downing just coffee powder.” You grimace, imagining yourself with dishevelled hair running on half an hour of sleep.

“It’s going to take a lot of self restraint to not shout at you in front of the entire ward when you do something that pushes my buttons.”

“Glad to know that the feeling is mutual.” Zayne bores his eyes into yours before walking away.

With the late hours of the night settling in, so does the orders and requests from other members of hospital staff. You step into the on call room, shrugging off your white coat on one of the chairs.

The door opens with your fellow colleagues ready to take a quick but very much needed nap. You slip off your shoes in front of one of the lower bed bunks and remove your hair clip.

“Doctor L/n. I'm really sorry but may I sleep on the bottom bunk?” You glance back to see Zayne, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry Doctor Li, but no. It feels like all of the life has been drained out of me by an energy seeking vampire. I quite literally do not have the body strength to climb the flimsy ladder up to the top bunk.”

“I understand that, but I think it would be best if I was to sleep on the bottom bunk. It's more convenient, I am taller and the lower bunk is longer— I can fully extend my legs only on the bottom bunk.” But before you can even open your mouth, he continues. “I have spent more time of this shift on my feet than you have, Doctor L/n.”

“I refuse to believe that, Doctor Li.” You hiss. “I'm sorry that you believe that you are more entitled to the bottom bunk, but I was assisting in a seven hour surgery this morning. I didn't even have the luxury to have my lunch, I was called into another surgery before I could even sit my ass down on a chair. Mind you, it's eleven in the evening so the last time I have put food in my system was over twelve hours ago.” You point to the ladder, gesturing for him to climb up it.

“You may have been assisting in multiple surgeries, but I had go over two dozen patient appointments today. Not to mention, I was tasked with fixing your patient charts because of how unorganised they were. So yes, I do believe I am entitled to the bottom bunk.” You roll your eyes, but with little reaction from Zayne due to the dim lighting in the room.

So what? He's been sat on a chair whilst you have been standing for hours on end. “I will sleep on the top bunk. Now please, save your voices. Fight each other at another time for all I care, go get some sleep.” A groggy voice complains.

Greyson hobbles out of bed and quietly murmurs about how you can both sleep on the bottom bunk before climbing up the ladder.

You quickly slot yourself between the gap of the bottom bunk, laying down on the bed as your back finally relaxes and the sound of Zayne sighing brings a tired grin on your face as he walks to the other bottom bunk bed.

“Eat.” You remove your hands from your head to see Zayne, tossing a sad sandwich on the table.

Having finished assisting in Oliver's surgery which lasted an extra two hours because of a complication, you don't have the energy to complain about how you don't even like mustard, gnawing at the sandwich.

You swallow dryly, the food passing through you like worn out sandpaper. “Why did you give me this?” You ask Zayne, who tears his tired gaze from his equally sad excuse of a sandwich.

“Everyone in the operating room could hear your stomach even when the suction was being used. You need to eat.” He says and you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in response.

You eat your sandwich, staring out of the window.

This is a first. For someone who was extremely determined to get the bottom bunk, it's like being with a completely different person. You always hear him going off on patient's about how important it is to eat well so that they have a faster recovery.

How strange.

Attending rounds whilst half asleep should be illegal. But you don't have a say in the rules, so you begrudgingly follow the rest of the surgical trainees as Doctor Zhou leads the rounds for the morning.

You have nobody but your phone to blame, the alarm on the stupid thing only went off twenty minutes before you had to arrive to the hospital. That and adding not having your daily cup of coffee to keep you functioning like a normal human, your eyes only get more droopier as the patients drift off into a silence to think about their pain levels.

The cases are quite easy to understand, so the only hard thing should be staying awake. “Doctor L/n, can you tell me anything you notice about this patient?” You barely recognise your name. feeling a slight nudge against your lower arm which jolts you awake.

Quickly scanning the room, you notice the relatively fast heartbeat on the monitor. “The patient has a heart rate of 120 beats per minute with an abnormal P wave following each QRS complex.”

“Yes, correct. Can you tell me exactly what kind of tachycardia this is?” She nods, ticking off something on her clipboard.

Your mind goes blank. Looking back to the monitor, you scan the screen in hopes it jogs your memory. What type of tachycardia? This is a question even a medical student can answer!

The hushed sound of scribbling against a notepad next to you is nothing but distracting. You feel another tap against your lower arm, and realise it's Zayne. He subtly brings the piece of paper towards you, and you read the words.

“Focal atrial tachycardia.” You answer and Doctor Zhou nods, moving on to thank the patient for their time and end the long hour of rounding.

Walking back to the break room, you immediately head to the table and grab a mocha pod to put into the coffee machine. Walking to the cupboard to get your mug, you notice Zayne fixing his sleeves in the mirror.

You should thank him for saving you out there. But you hesitate. Perhaps when not as many people are around.

Grabbing your mug, you close the cupboard door and walk to the coffee machine, placing your mug down as you insert the pod into the machine. The machine buzzes to life, pouring in the frothy liquid ever so slowly.

Zayne still stands in front of the mirror but your feet are unwilling to move. Every single cell inside of you is screaming to walk up to him. You walk up to him, thank him for saving you and walk back, simple. So why the hesitation?

The sound of the machine beeping brings you out of your trance and you turn off the machine before bringing the cup of coffee up to your lips.

Looking up, Zayne disappears. The usual sweet taste of the chocolate and coffee now tastes bitter, burning on your tongue. Perhaps another time.

“Come with me to the cafeteria.” You hear a tired voice ask beside you.

“Sure.” You get out of your seat, grabbing your white coat. Zayne walks slowly, purposely waiting for you before you both leave the office in silence. “So… why ask me to come to the cafeteria with you?”

“Am I not allowed to ask my fellow colleague to eat dinner with me?” Zayne looks at you and you both step foot into the cafeteria.

“No— this week has been an absolute whirlwind: running on energy drinks and three hours of sleep is not normal. I think I have the right to ask if I am sane or hallucinating.” The staff places two scoops of rice into your plate and you smile as a quiet thank you.

“Well, we only have two more shifts left this week. Hopefully we survive.” Another member of staff places some vegetables and meat alongside your rice and you move down the line.

“As long as nobody has a cardiac arrest of some sort, then I think we will be okay.” You walk off to the dessert area to get a cupcake with Zayne in tow.

“How were you not stopped by some member of staff for all the desserts on your plate?” You look at Zayne’s plate holding a cupcake and strategically placed macarons to ensure none go tumbling off his plate.

“Confidence.” He shrugs. “Do you happen to be the dessert police in disguise?”

“I will call them over if you don’t let me have one of your macarons. Where did you even find them?” You threaten jokingly.

“Over by the end of the counter. Nobody stops by the end of the counter because it stops the line from moving and everyone is hungry enough as is.” Zayne pushes his small dessert plate in front of you and gestures for you to take one.

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually letting me have one of your precious macarons?” You gasp.

“Why are you reacting as if I have announced I will be participating in the Olympics for the ice skating division?”

“It’s just unexpected. Everyone knows how much you love desserts.” You slowly take one of the macarons and place it next to your cupcake.

“You’re acting like I despise you.” Zayne shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth, acting like he hasn’t just set your brain into a spiral.

He is acting less hostile, in a sense. Maybe he actually doesn't despise me as much in comparison to medical school.

“I’m guessing from your confused expression that you’re wondering why I seem to tolerate being around you.”

“Are you a mind reader? Did you perhaps manage to evolve your evol into brain related functions too?” You exclaim, feeling somewhat exposed by his analysis.

“Unfortunately, no. How do you manage to make everything about the brain? You definitely chose the right speciality.” He questions and you continue to stare at him.

“Let’s backtrack a bit, mister cardiac surgeon-to-be. When did you suddenly get the ability to tolerate me?” You place your hands in front of him, clearly taken aback.

“When you asked me how I was feeling after the patient interaction on the liver transplant. I was just expecting you to just brush it off or question why he got into such a rowdy mood but you didn’t— you just listened.”

“I guess that was quite nice of me.” You pick at the food on your plate. “You know, it's definitely a lot easier to be around you and tolerate your presence.” Zayne tilts his head, confused.

“I guess you softened me up. I think it happened when you started offering me sandwiches. I hear you constantly nag at patients for not eating well because you just want the best for them. But that doesn't mean that all of the hate is gone, it’s a lot to go from hating each other's guts to acting somewhat civil with each other. This doesn't stop me from calling you an idiot whenever you deserve to be called one.”

“Noted. Now keep eating, your food is going to get cold.”

For what is probably the hundredth time this week, you read through another patient chart, making annotations of things to ask during the consultation on your worn-out notepad.

The last few hours of this horrendous one week shift finally approaches. But in true hospital fashion, the emergency button goes off and the nurses rush into the room, with you following close behind. Nurses quickly convince the family to leave, despite their loud pleas and cries to stay.

You turn to face the critical patient, ready to assess what the next step of action is but stop in your tracks. Oliver.

The feeling of dizziness suddenly overwhelms you, locking you in an unwelcoming hug that you can't seem to shake out of. You feel your knees buckle slightly, steadying yourself against some random piece of equipment.

It feels like the oxygen in the room and your lungs is quickly depleting, leaving you lightheaded and breathless. In a strong state of denial, you trying to snap yourself out of this state of helplessness, staggering to Oliver's bed.

Words come out of your mouth— probably some kind of weak attempt to bark orders at the nurses but they look at you in despair and confusion. “He's having a seizure. Can someone get me some lorezapam please?” A voice shouts out, slightly bringing you out of your daze.

The sound of loud rustling can be heard and you watch as the figure administer the drug. “Doctor L/n, can you hear me?” A warm hand is placed on the side of your upper arm and you muster up the strength to look up. Zayne. “Doctor L/n, Oliver needs you. I can't do this alone.” Flickering your eyes up at him, you notice the worry etched into his eyebrows.

But you don't have time to worry about it, especially not now. As if a switch was turned on, you snap out of your hazy state. “Remove anything tight that might restrict him.” The nurses nod and you hastily remove the blanket covering his body.

“Oliver, this is Doctor L/n. I'm here. You're at Akso Hospital and you're safe.” Oliver's movements stop shortly after, the lorezapam quickly going into effect.

You slowly get him into the recovery position and he slowly opens his eyes, blinking at you. He's okay. After going through the necessary checks post seizure, you leave the room and your back hits the wall. A stray tear escapes out of your eye and you hastily dab the ends of your sleeve to hide the wetness rolling down your cheek.

“This is all my fault.” You mutter under your breath.

“No it's not.” Shocked that someone heard your moment of self depreciation, your eyes flicker to the owner of the voice. “You did your best.”

“Even if it's not my fault, I lied to Oliver. I told him that I would do my best. What I did back in there was not my best. Look at him now.” You glance into Oliver's room, one of the nurses accompanying him for the night.

“I know that Oliver is more than thankful for you. He knows that you care deeply for him as a patient and I'm sure that when he recovers, he will greet you with a smile.” Zayne says, looking through the glass of Oliver's room.

“You saw what I did out there whilst he was having a seizure. What kind of doctor has a massive breakdown whilst their patient could be knocking on death's door? You aren't always going to be there whilst I have another breakdown in front of another patient. Imagine what could happen? It won't be anyone else's fault but mine.”

“This isn't permanent. You will eventually find a way to confront this fear of yours and only then will you be able to forgive yourself.” Zayne says and you don't even have the strength to look him the eyes, only blankly staring at his worn out shoes.

“How about we go to the break room? We don't need to talk about it but it would be good to at least sit down.” You nod, standing up straight as you lift yourself off the wall and walk to the room with your head down.

Making it to the break room, you sit down on a random chair and sit back. Zayne opens the mini fridge and places your water bottle onto the desk in front of you. Not having the strength to speak, you give him a slight nod before drinking from the straw. The cold water quenches a hidden thirst and you feel your lost will to live slowly come back.

After a much deserved rest of four days, the ability to function like a normal human being has returned. Tasks that felt extremely monotone during the seven days of night shift in a row now had meaning to them and were much more enjoyable to do.

You pull back the changing curtain, smoothing out the faint creases on your scrubs. Zayne stands beside the table, removing his watch. “Here.” Zayne passes you an iced coffee.

“Thanks.” You take the coffee from him, before fixing your messy hair in the mirror.

“No sassy remark?” You turn your head to see a confused Zayne. “Not even a question asking why I decided to give you a coffee?”

“Maybe it will come back to me after I finish fixing my hair. Do you want me to ask why you decided to randomly bring me a coffee?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No. But I definitely was expecting a more sarcastic response.” He grabs his notebook. “I’ll see you later.”

During the brief encounter you had with one of the nurses, you find out that Oliver has rapidly improved after the incident on the last day of your torturous one week shift.

With twenty minutes left before the first appointment of the day, you make your way to his room. Knocking on the door, you hear a soft “come in,” from Oliver and you twist the handle. There sits Oliver, propped up on a pillow as the television plays quietly in the background. He looks at you and a smile graces his lips.

“Doctor L/n. I'm really sorry for scaring everyone with my seizure a few days ago. Before you say anything else, I just want to say that I am really thankful for everyone, especially you. I know that you went through a lot last week and I don't want you to think about any of those feel bad thoughts that might be troubling you.” You feel the tension dissipate from your body as you finally find a sense of closure.

“Thank you for recovering Oliver.” You smile and your gaze drifts to the clock above his bed. “I don't have much time left before I have to leave, but is there anything that I can get you before I go?”

“It's a bit cold, would it be possible to get another blanket?” You nod, excusing yourself before heading to the storage closet.

Pushing the door of the storage closet open, a familiar set of shoulders greets you as you step inside. The storage closet is extremely small, the space is just about enough to fit one person.

Having two people is practically invading personal space.

“You could have just waited outside like everyone else does when they see someone in here.” Zayne's voice breaks the sound of equipment being rummaged through.

So much for mood swings, he was somewhat bearable about five minutes ago.

“I could have. But you know very well by now that I enjoy bringing you misery. Could you pass me a blanket whilst you're at it?” You grin. Zayne sighs, but opens up a box and hands you the blanket before going back to retrieving whatever he needed.

“This is one of the small blankets, could you get me a medium or a large one instead?”

“Do you see me as some kind of butler? You are very capable of getting it yourself.” He looks behind his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed.

“So you do see me as capable! Only took you about six years to recognise it.” You place a hand on your chest, pretending to feel touched by his sarcastic compliment.

Feeling very pleased with yourself, you scooch past him, replacing the small blanket for a large one. You squeeze past him, ready to stretch your limbs freely again.

“So much for having a civil relationship.” Zayne mutters under his breath, but the proximity between you allows you to easily hear him. “This is not how acquaintances act around each other.” He pulls out a small plastic box and turns around, bumping into you.

You say nothing, suddenly realising how little space there is between you and Zayne. You don't think you have ever gotten this close to someone since your relationships in college. Maybe it's the unwelcoming memories of things that you have done with someone this close, but you feel your heart rate begin to quicken.

“So you consider us to be acquaintances?”

“I would assume so, especially since we have agreed to be civil with each other. Not exactly friendly acquaintances but acquaintances nonetheless.” Your grip on the blanket tightens ever so slightly.

“Does this mean my acquaintance will allow me to leave this prison cell of a storage room?” You tilt your head up at him.

“Of course.” He shuffles awkwardly, almost lying flat against the shelves. You don't spare him another glance and open the door, heading to Oliver's room.

“Here's your blanket.” You pass Oliver the soft material.

“Sorry for the wait, it took me a while to actually find one in the right size.”

“Thank you, Doctor L/n.” He unfolds the blanket. “Are you okay, by the way? Your face looks a bit flushed.”

Within the second month of settling in to the hospital, you are immediately seen as experienced. You absolutely beg to differ, considering how you only recently discovered that the television screen in the reception area could actually display something other than the news.

However, that doesn't stop one of the first year medical students from following you around the ward like you are their mother duck— they have essentially imprinted on you. With this built up trust, they confidently ask you to sign off their competency forms.

You smile and sit down next to the desk, grabbing a pen. "Thank you so much for signing these forms, Doctor L/n. You are single handedly saving me from getting scolded by my clinical tutor.” He sighs, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“No problem, I remember feeling the exact same way when I first started placements.” You chuckle, signing off the date and your signature at the bottom of the paper.

“Were the wards always this quiet when you first started off? I feel like it hasn't been very busy today.” He innocently asks.

Your grip on the pen tightens, and you slowly exhale all the breath in your lungs. “Not always. But it will become busy very soon." The innocent medical student tilts his head in confusion.

“How do you know, Doctor L/n?”

“Whenever someone mentions how quiet the ward is, emergencies happen within the next five minutes.” You see the colour drain from the his face. “Don't worry, just make sure to not make the same mistake for next time and prepare yourself for the chaos.” You pat his shoulder and leave his forms on the table.

Walking up to the reception, you hear the sound of rapid footsteps to one of the patient rooms and you immediately follow the sound. As soon as you enter, you see Doctor Zhou removing her white coat and you quickly realise the patient is going into a cardiac arrest.

Greyson and Zayne rush in, with Zayne standing next to you and you impatiently await Doctor Zhou's instructions. “The two closest to the door grab the crash cart and anyone else who is left, switch compressions on the patient with me after two minutes.” Doctor Zhou instructs and you quickly assess your position in the room, realising you and Zayne are closest to the door.

Without wasting a second, you rush out of the door and into the hallway with Zayne following behind. The crash cart that usually sits at the nurses' station is nowhere to be seen, explaining why there is nobody else helping out in the room— another emergency is occurring elsewhere in the ward.

“Doctor Li, we need to go to the ICU, the crash cart is being used elsewhere.” You say and he nods, leading the way.

Your mind is on auto pilot, frantically making your way to the ICU in hopes that there's an available crash cart somewhere. Zayne uses his longer legs to his advantage and you see him conversing with one of the nurses find the crash cart.

“Doctor L/n, on your right!” He shouts, breaking the silence of the peaceful department.

Turning right, you notice the white and blue cart instantly. You push on it, and it rolls on its wheels. Zayne comes into your vision and stands next to you, making carrying the weight of the heavy piece of equipment much faster.

“Let's go.” You announce and Zayne nods, pushing the cart out of the ICU hallway.

The journey from the ICU to the general surgery department feels extremely long, despite it being the closest department to the one you have essentially made a home in. Pushing it is honestly not much of a problem, the only problem on your mind is the patient and your hopes of them making a rapid recovery.

You feel something cold on the back of your hand and immediately know it's not you, especially with your body sweating from the stress and your uncomfortable, thick white coat. Probably just a piece of equipment sticking out of the drawers.

You quickly look down and register the 'cold something' as Zayne's hand. You grasp onto the side of the cart tighter and look up to only make accidental eye contact with Zayne. Right about now, you would have said something along the lines of 'get your icicle hands off me' but it clearly is not the time, especially when the patient's room is in sight.

You suck up the comment practically begging to spill from your lips, it causing your heart to beat wild enough to the point where it could end with you being a receiving the treatment.

But the feeling of his hand on top of yours is actually kind of nice — definitely not in a way that would get teenage girls screaming. It's just a very weirdly comforting ice pack. His eyes never stray from yours, only giving you a short nod— probably as a way of letting you know he's there and you don't need to worry.

As nice as it is to have eye contact with Zayne that is not just side eyes and snares, you cough awkwardly, averting your eyes in front of you to prevent the cart from crashing into a poor passerby.

Manoeuvring the cart into the room, you notice the tired expressions on Greyson's and Doctor Zhou's faces. “Sorry we took so long, the cart was in the ICU. I'll take over doing compressions!” You stand by the patient's bedside, rolling up your sleeves.

With the rest of the emergency passing in a blink of an eye, you make your way to the on call room. Flopping down on the spinny chair, you open a water bottle and the door opens with Zayne making his way inside.

“I think Oliver recovering has given me closure— I didn't freak out and handled the situation calmly! I even volunteered to do compressions before you, everyone knows how keen you are to be the first one to help!” You smile widely.

“Seeing Oliver recovered has definitely improved your confidence. I'm glad you aren't afraid to jump into action anymore.” He says and you nod with a mouthful of water.

Considering your newly established relationship with Zayne as acquaintances, you expected a more meaningful reaction from him. Despite him being a man of not very much to say in the first place, you should feel thankful that you have even made it as far as him offering you one of his precious macarons a few months ago.

But you can't help but feel like you need something more from him. Perhaps something along the lines of 'I'm proud,' or 'This is only the beginning of good things,' but considering the fact that it is Zayne, maybe this is as far as it will go.

It quite honestly doesn't make any sense— why is there a sudden need to be validated and noticed by him?

You sit in the conference room, daydreaming about what you should order for dinner when you get home after work.

The topic of internet safety is incredibly boring and the guy from IT didn't even bother making the presentation slides colourful. It's pretty much common sense (there's probably an old consultant somewhere learning what an incognito tab is) and your mind is incredibly under-stimulated.

Letting out a silent sigh, you give your eyes a break from the colourless presentation slides and stare out the window. The view isn't very appealing either: thick, tamed black hair covers your view of the trees below. Sparing a glance at the owner of said hair, you soon realise it is Zayne.

Keen on wasting even more time, your mind wanders off to problems that you have experienced since starting work at Akso. The lack of fluffy pillows in the break room to sleep on, Zayne picking a fight with you in front of poor Daisy, the terrible one week on call shift you had with Zayne, your sudden need to have Zayne act more cheerful around you— fuck.

Why are you so caught up about Zayne in the first place? Why do you want him to act more like a human rather than a programmed robot? It was not much this much a problem in medical school, so what on earth is causing you to feel this way?

Is it the weird period of transitioning into the working world? It might be, it takes everyone different amounts of time to settle into a hospital as big as Akso. Maybe you just need more time to get to grips with the place.

It definitely is, nothing else.

After what feels like ten minutes, you blink slowly in hopes to catch up on micro amounts of sleep that you missed out on last night. During the short period of letting your eyes rest, your mind once again drifts off thinking anything other than this useless presentation.

The sound of papers rustling brings your head out of the clouds and your vision hones in on Zayne looking straight back at you. Shit. Have you been unconsciously looking at him the entire time? You blink a few times, hoping it's just a figure of your imagination, but his eyes continue to stare into yours.

Faking a smile, you pick up your pen and fiercely make notes, writing 'what the fuck did he just catch me???'. Hesitantly, you slowly lift up your head to check if he has decided to save your dignity and look anywhere else but you.

You freeze, realising Zayne's piercing eyes are still locked in on you. The room grows more stuffy by the second, and the heat spreads to your cheeks. Coughing awkwardly, you finally pay attention to the presentation only to find out that the IT guy is thanking everyone for listening.

Grabbing your pen and notepad, you rush out of the room before Yvonne— or even worse, Zayne himself— asks why you are in such a hurry to leave.

Walking up to the hospital entrance, the wind brushes past your shoulders and almost knocks you off balance.

It acts a quiet reminder of how it life at the hospital has been boring to say the least, as this has single handedly been the most exciting thing that has happened all week. No new hospital drama, not even a good show to watch on the reception television when appointments slow down during the day.

Sighing at the lack of gossip, you can only drag your feet along the floors to the general surgery department, hoping that somewhere the drama will start picking up again. The handover from the night shift team remains the same as normal: boring.

Based on the blank expression on Yvonne's face, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how she is feeling. Not even as the handover ends does her expression brighten up in the slightest, her eyes boring holes into the patient files. You can only sigh when the night shift team leaves.

The morale in the room is non existent. Something good has to happen today, and it can't be a patient dancing the macarena on the tables whilst naked.

The end of the shift is in sight, and the break room is silent. Everyone is clearly ready to go home, and you countdown the mere minutes on the clock until you are no longer legally bound to stay at the hospital. Time goes by extremely slowly, checking the clock when you think the shift is officially over, only it to not even change the position of the minute hand.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back catches your attention, and Zayne walks out. His grey long coat only extends his tall figure, matching well with the silver rimmed glasses he wears.

He actually looks good. Not as in a presentable outfit kind of good, but Zayne himself looks good.

There should be no reason for you to be thinking about him in this way. It's just Zayne. It's just because he is wearing something that isn't the weird fitting green scrubs which brings out his eyes that makes him look good.

You blink multiple times, hoping that after twenty blinks he goes back to looking the way he usually does. But he never does. If anything, the excessive blinking relieves your dry eyes and it doesn't hurt to look at him anymore.

It was never about the transition from medical school to working as a doctor. It was never about the stupid scrubs that you associated with work. You have settled into the hospital well, especially with how you went out for drinks with Yvonne last week.

The realisation dawns on you, and you press your nails into your skin trying anything to wake up from the reality. You feel your heart pound against your chest and you assess. There is quite literally nothing else that could cause it to race— you are sat on a chair and there isn't an emergency happening.

It's Zayne. Somewhere along the way, you developed these stupid romantic feelings for him.

The hospital drama you so desperately wanted? It's you.

The next few days pass by in a blur, with your schedule filled up with regular appointments and the occasional emergency, life has been on autopilot.

But with Yvonne rushing into the break room the brightest you have seen her smile since last week, you know something interesting has happened.

“Did you hear? The hospital's twentieth year anniversary is this Friday, so the hospital director is treating Akso staff to the new fancy barbecue restaurant everyone online raves about!” Yvonne spins around in her chair in pure childlike happiness. “I finally get to see the hidden couples of other departments! The hospital drama drought will come to an end!”

“That sounds great! I can't wait to have something interesting to talk about other than the sad selection of crisps from the vending machine.” You chuckle, swallowing nervously as you realise your secret may come out quicker than expected.

“I'm so excited to see the stolen glances from people when they think someone isn't watching! I love watching the tension build up.” She closes her eyes happily, sighing happily.

You definitely won't be the centre of attention, there should be absolutely no reason to worry at all. Eat, laugh at some stupid joke and don't look at Zayne. Simple.

Sitting in the barbecue place for the event, you take in your surroundings, watching as people would be more than happy to chat the rest of the night away. Your gaze drifts to the nephrology department, as you notice the hidden glances between a couple who definitely cannot be any more obvious.

You can only hope that your eyes don't betray your crumbling will to continue being acquaintances with the man sitting opposite you. The sharp tapping of a wine glass breaks the silence.

“Everyone can I have your attention please?” Heads turn and you watch as the hospital director smiles brightly.

“As much as I enjoy watching the different departments together, it is time for a competition. A group quiz! The winning department of the quiz gets a massage chair for all your relaxing needs!” Loud murmurs and hushed conversations immediately start, with people happily imagining themselves sat in the massage chair during a short break.

Whiteboards are quickly passed around the room, with Doctor Zhou being nominated as the team's scribe. “First question, an extremely easy one. What anniversary is Akso currently celebrating on this fine evening?” The hospital director doesn't even finish his first question, and '20 years' is written on the whiteboard.

“Alright, boards up! Okay, all teams get a point!” The crowd cheers as someone notes down the scores on a piece of paper. “Next question, how many times does the average person blink in a day? The exact or the closest answer wins the point!” Everyone huddles around in a circle, keen on discussing their thoughts.

“I think about ten thousand times a day.” Greyson speaks in a hushed tone. Everyone nods in some form of agreement.

“It's about fifteen thousand times a day, actually.” You say, causing everyone to blink silently at you as the gears in their head try to calculate. “I memorised a fact book about weird trivia facts when I was about eight and it hasn't proven me wrong since.”

“Of course, as expected.” A once irritating voice speaks up and you roll your eyes in order to not cause a scene.

“I trust Y/n!” Yvonne raises her arm up, looking around the table to see who would join her. Soon enough, most of the table has their hands raised. Doctor Zhou hums, writing down your answer on the whiteboard.

“Time is up, show me your answers!” He shouts, scanning through the answers written, until his jaw drops. “We have an exact answer everyone!” He points to your table, causing everyone to shake your shoulders happily. “The answer was fifteen thousand times.” The crowd sighs.

“Next question, what is the average speed of a human sneeze in miles per hour?” The other tables suddenly get deep into conversation.

“How about we all say an answer at the same time? I know Y/n probably knows the answer, but this makes it more fun since we will just be sitting in silence as we wait to see if the answer is right.” Yvonne suggests, and everyone around the table nods in agreement.

“How about we all say our answers on the count of three? One, two… three!”

“Fifty miles an hour!”

“Eighty five miles an hour!”

“Seventy three and a half miles an hour!”

“Over one hundred miles an hour.” You say, and your voice somehow sounds like it dropped a whole octave. Looking to the source of your supposed low voice, you feel the colour rush to your face. There should not even be a rational reason to feeling a weird a sense of embarrassment.

Of course, Zayne manages to say the exact same answer as you at the exact same time. It shouldn't even be a surprise, he is a literal doctor and just happens to have a good memory too. He is extremely smart, he probably memorised the exact same trivia book that you did.

“Y/n?” A hand taps your arm. “Did you hear the question?” Yvonne stares at you, a hint of concern written on her face.

“Huh?” You look to her. “Did we get the question right?”

“Yes we did, thanks to you and Zayne!” She chirps happily. “The question was 'where does the term muscle come from?' and include the language of origin too.”

“Little mouse in Latin.” Twiddling your fingers, you try to take interest in the plain colour of your nails but eventually fail. Looking to the person who has your head utterly and completely messed up, you eye the bottle of expensive wine sitting in the middle of the table.

It might as well be easier to spend the rest of the night slightly tipsy and having your feelings spiral rather than just be a human void who can only think about the complications of falling for Zayne.

Huffing, you grab the glass bottle and pour a good amount into your wine glass, admiring the deep red hue before downing it in one quick gulp. You pick up the bottle again, pouring another into your glass whilst everyone keenly watches.

“Slow down, you can't have all the fun without us! Let us have some before you drink your way through to victory, Y/n.” Yvonne whistles, extending her glass in front of you as she waits for you to pour her some.

This sets off a chain reaction of everyone else on the table, grinning from ear to ear as they wait for you to pour the wine into their glass. They happily savour the drink, discussing about the different fruits that they taste as they swirl the liquid.

Almost coming full circle on the table, you stop at Zayne. “Don't you want some?” You ask, displaying the fancy label for him to look at whilst you tilt your head at him.

“No thank you. I am not well suited for drinking.”

“I will drink this in your stead, Doctor Li.” You raise your glass, clinking it with his empty one. “If you don't hear from me on our next shift, it's because I have lost my phone and don't know how to get home.” You smile, remembering your college days as you drink the whole thing in one go.

Zayne just looks at you with a concerned look on his face. “Next question!” The sound of the microphone seems much louder, a clear tell tale sign the alcohol is kicking in. “What is my favourite colour?” He chuckles, enjoying the confused looks on everyone's faces at the new question.

The room goes into frenzy, everyone naming all the colours that they can think of at the top of their head whilst you quietly sing the rainbow song as you forget what colours exist. “Blue!” You lean over the table, pointing to the director's tie. “He always wears a blue tie.”

“Yes, Y/n. But right now, he's wearing a green tie.” Yvonne coos, making sure you sit back down on your chair. Looking over to the director, you focus your eyes and finally see his green tie. You see a smirk on Zayne's face.

“Hey, I'm trying!” Yvonne only pats your shoulder comfortingly to calm your increasing anger which causes your eyes to droop.

“Final question, what fruit does a human share sixty percent of its DNA with?”

“Banana. Yellow fuzzy bananas.” Your mouth opens before your eyes do, seeing the bright lights invade your vision.

“You're drunk, Y/n.” Yvonne announces, taking your wine glass away from you. “Drink up!” She hands you a glass with transparent liquid in it.

“Nope, I don't want water! I want more yummy wine.” You shake your head, pushing the glass of water away from you.

“We both know that's not going to be happening.” She deadpans, putting the water into your hands. “At least take a little sip for me, please?” You use both hands to steady the cup, washing down the taste of the sweet berries.

“We have a winning team, everyone! The winning team is…” The director trails off, leaving everyone in suspense.

“The general surgery team! Congratulations, the massage chair will be arriving on Monday. Thank you everyone for coming to Akso's twentieth anniversary dinner, get home safe!” You cheer, nursing your empty wine glass as you pick up some crackers, watching as everyone collects their belongings.

“Where do you live, Y/n? I want you home safe and in one piece, please.” Yvonne, your shining knight in armour asks.

“Near the hospital, near the park with the cool exercise machines.” You grin, clumsily shoving a cracker into your mouth as Yvonne sighs and Doctor Zhou nods.

“Does anyone live near the big park with the fountains and is able to take Y/n home, please?” Doctor Zhou turns around, facing the rest of the general surgery team.

You sit in your chair, watching as people shake their heads on in response. Grabbing your phone, you tap on the screen in attempts to book a taxi, only to be locked out after the fifth attempt.

“I live close by.” A voice that makes you want to hide in a hole for the rest of eternity speaks up, and you immediately shake your head childishly.

“I can make it home by myself! I am more than capable.” You stand up, gripping onto the back of the chair for dear life as the world spins.

“Zayne is going to take you home, Y/n. I'll see you on Sunday, okay?” Yvonne waves you goodbye before facing the man beside you. “Take care of her for me please. Good luck, she seems like she is going to be a bit of a handful.”

You walk with your head down, trying to walk as sober as possible as you can to avoid the awkward walk home with the man who has been taking up every inch of your thoughts.

“You're going to fall if you continue to walk like that, L/n.” Turning around, you glance back at him and only look at him before huffing and turning back around to leave the restaurant.

Walking past the restaurant entrance, you immediately make a left turn and observe the glass reflection to see if Zayne is still following you. He walks briskly, holding on to your bag as he fixes his glasses. You stop in your tracks, allowing Zayne to catch up with you.

Once he stands in front of you, you grab the bag from him and try to walk, only to find yourself stuck in the same place as he holds a gentle grip around your wrist.

“I understand you want to go home alone, but I need to ensure you get home safely, L/n. Please stop trying to run away from me.” You stick your tongue at him, but he still doesn't let go of you. “Didn't you tell me that I might not hear back from you if you get too drunk?”

“And why do you care if I make it home back safe or not, Li?” You retort back sassily, putting your hand on your waist for extra effect.

“I told everyone that I would escort you home, so I must stick to my words. Nobody was going in the same direction as you, and I have little trust in taxi drivers at such a late time. Despite living in the opposite direction, I need to make sure you attend the next shift.” He stays silent. “As acquaintances, of course.”

“Hm.” Zayne removes his grip on you, allowing you to move freely.

Putting one foot in front of the other, you allow Zayne to walk you home. “You are like fuzzy cheese.”

“I wonder if you will be able to tell me the same thing sober, L/n.” Ignoring him, you continue with your new profound discovery.

“Whenever people look at fuzzy cheese, they just go 'ew' and move on. But if you actually know about fuzzy cheese, you can just remove the exterior and enjoy the insides.”

“I was not expecting to be likened to fuzzy cheese, but thank you for your wonderful analogy.”

“Your coat is fuzzy too.” Grazing your hand past his coat, you feel the material and scrunch your nose up in disgust.

“Look at the park! Isn't it pretty? I could dive into the fountain to cool down, don't you think?”

“You are not doing that.” He grabs the material of your trench coat, ready to pull you back if you jump in.

“Awww.” You look down to the ground, kicking your feet sadly. Zayne sighs, letting go of your coat. You nod at him, blinking slowly as you point to the fountain in child- like joy. “Can we go look at the fountain please?” Looking up at him, you clasp your hands together and put on your best puppy face.

“As long as you promise to go home right after this, L/n.” You put a hand over your heart, agreeing with his statement. “I suppose we can go.”

Running towards the fountain, you pant from the heaviness of the trench coat and the alcohol severely reducing your ability to function properly.

Looking behind you, Zayne chases after you with wide eyes at your sudden exit. “It's so hot.” You wipe sweat off your forehead, fanning yourself with your hands. “Take this,” You hand him your bag.

“Wouldn't you like to take off your—” You jump into the fountain, splashing happily as the coldness of the water hits your face. “—coat.” Smiling at Zayne, you can't tell if he's angry, disappointed or intrigued by your behaviour as he places your bag onto his broad shoulders.

“Let's get you up, hm?” He places a hand in front of you, waiting for you to take it.

“You're warm. This is cold.” Gesturing towards the water, you scoop a handful of water into your hands, watching it trickle down your arms as it slips through the gaps in your hands.

“I find it hard to believe that the one time you call me a warm person is whilst you are completely inebriated and splashing around in a water fountain. Don't you want to go home and get some sleep?” He asks, and you close your eyes shaking your head, whispering 'no no no' under your breath.

Zayne sighs for the billionth time this night. “You leave me with no choice.” Getting into the fountain, he makes sure to not get your bag wet as he crouches down, picking you up and carrying you into his arms.

“Hehe, this is fun!” You giggle, lifting one arm up in the air to touch his cheeks.

“We have very different ideas of fun.” Stepping out of the fountain, the sound of water from his trousers hitting the concrete makes you giggle even more.

“You are going to have a terrible morning when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Hm? Why? I feel great now! Look!” Your wet hands pulling down on his chin, forcing him to stop walking and make eye contact with him.

The atmosphere changes. Zayne doesn't say anything, his lips slightly parted as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. Running your free hand through his hair, you slowly bring it down to the back of his burning neck, pulling him closer. The distance is almost non existent, his lips hovering over yours, close enough to feel his gentle breath.

In a blink, he pulls away.

“I…” His voice trails off, pressing his lips together. “Apologies. Can you tell me where your house is?”

“First door, second floor over there.” Pointing towards the building in front of you.

He nods, walking towards the direction of your building. The walk back is quiet, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. Afraid of making eye contact again, you screw your eyes shut and loll your head against his arm.

“We're here.” A quiet voice that you know all too well says and you don't have the guts to move, only moving your chest in attempts to breathe normally. “Y— L/n, we're here. Let's get you inside.” You only open your mouth slightly in response. “I don't want you getting a cold, please.”

“Hm?” You open your eyes slightly, Zayne's handsome features still visible in your blurry eyesight.

“We are outside your door. Do you have your keys with you so I can get you inside?”

“Bag.” You reply, pressing the side of your head against his chest. “I need to put you down for a second to get your keys, L/n.” Immediately shaking your head, you nuzzle further into him in protest. “Can you get them for me? Your bag is hanging on my shoulder.” With as little strength you can muster, you weakly grab your bag from his side, fumbling to grab your keys.

“Here!” You reveal the keys, dangling them in front of his face like a cat toy.

“Thank you.” He takes the keys from your hand, moving closer towards the door and you hear the rattling of the keys as the scent of your vanilla diffuser hits your nose.

“I need to take off your shoes. Just a second.” The plush feeling of the sofa hits your back as your head rests against the pillows. Your soaked shoes come off, and you sigh in relief at the heavy weight gone from your feet.

“It's cold.” You complain, looking around for a pillow, plopping it over your stomach as a makeshift blanket.

“So now you complain about being cold.” Zayne chuckles. “You need to change into warmer clothes.”

“Can you change my clothes?” You look at him with heavy lidded eyes as you rest your forehead against his. In your bleary state, you notice the tips of his cheeks and ears quickly turning into a bright red colour.

“No. But I can help you take off your coat instead.” As if a switch goes off, you smile and stick your arms out as you wait for him to remove the coat sticking to your body with waiting eyes. His hands reach just under your collar, removing the material off of you, making you shiver.

“Where do you keep your pyjamas? If you sleep in these, you're going to end up sneezing in front of patients.” Zayne asks, hanging your brown coat above the door to let it dry.

“Bedroom.” You stand up, much quicker than what your body can keep up with, causing the world to tilt sideways until you feel the world turn back upright with Zayne's arm wrapped around your waist. “Heh, you caught me!”

Grabbing his arm, you lead the way into your room. “There's my pyjamas!” Pointing to the big wooden drawer as you plop down on the floor.

“Which ones would you like to wear?” Searching through your drawer, he pulls out a few options.

“The blue ones!” They end up in your lap, with Zayne walking out of your room to let you change. Opening the door handle, you smile back at Zayne who only chuckles as he sees your face. “Why are you laughing? These are very stylish!”

“You still have makeup on with them on, that's all. Come on, let's get your makeup removed and your teeth brushed.” Nodding in agreement, you use him as support to walk to your bathroom and wait for him to step inside.

Craning your neck upwards to look up at Zayne, you await his instructions. He quickly catches on, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush and hands it to you. Grabbing the toothbrush, you look at him in the mirror as you begin brushing.

Just before spitting out the toothpaste, you give him a foamy grin which causes him to unfortunately only encourage you to spit it out instead of complimenting your lovely smile.

“What about your makeup remover?” Blinking up at him, you point towards the micellar water and the cotton pads laying about on the counter top.

“Here,” He hands them to you, with the bottle of micellar water opened. Taking them into your hands, you pour the transparent liquid over the cotton pad and gravely miss, with some of it ending on your fluffy mat.

“Can you do it for me?” You pass them back to him, and immediately close your eyes. Gentle hands gently touch your chin, slightly bringing it upwards as you feel the cold feeling glide across your face.

“Sorry, it's a little cold.” He apologises, shuffling about as he takes more micellar water onto the cotton pads. “Almost done.” You feel him get closer, the stupid feeling of his breath resting on your lips makes you internally spiral.

“Done. Into bed now.” You open your eyes as Zayne stands beside you, waiting for you to lead the way into your bedroom.

Your heavy feet pad against the floors, magically making it into the bed and you pull the covers over your body. “Li?” You call out with your head resting against the pillows. He turns back around in the hallway. “Thank you, you're such a good friend.”

“Of course. Just doing what a friend would do. Goodnight, L/n.” He walks away, and you finally let sleep overcome you.

The sound of an alarm that definitely should not be going off wakes you up, and you are immediately greeted with the bright sun hitting your eyes and a throbbing headache. Turning off the alarm, you bury yourself back into the covers to stop the headache.

Whatever happened last night must have been fun for the pain to be this bad. Closing your eyes, you are immediately met with the insane things you did the previous night.

Getting drunk in front of all of your colleagues, some other act that you can't quite remember and Zayne removing your makeup. All of it hits you like a train, except from this one particular thing that happened with Zayne.

Your finger hovers over your lips as a habit and suddenly everything clicks into place. Outside, jumping into the decorative fountain to cool down, Zayne getting into the fountain to only pick you up bridal style, and the kiss. The kiss that almost happened.

You scream into your pillow, the pulsing sensation only getting stronger as you use up more of your strength for such a useless thing. Letting out a heavy sigh, you rush to the bathroom to brush your teeth and create a terrible breakfast to get the pain medication down.

The medication doesn't go down as easily as you assumed it would. The bitter, chalky taste is very much reflecting your bleak outlook on your reputation and the potential for Zayne to think of you as a freak.

Hell, you even called him a good friend in your drunk state. Never have you ever considered him a friend— only an enemy, acquaintance and a confusing crush. This immediately blurs the lines of your confusing relationship, as you vaguely remembering him calling you a friend as he left last night.

Does that make you friends? Do friends almost kiss? Do friends walk you home in the opposite direction to get you home safely and remove your makeup?

Great friends might, but you bravely established the start of a friendship last night. The realisation dawns upon you, and you stare up at the ceiling in a mixture of disbelief and nervousness.

Zayne might just feel the same way.

The walk into Akso is terribly gloomy, your umbrella almost giving into the strong winds and carrying away your remaining will to live.

Making your way into the department, you spot Zayne in the corner of your eye and quickly change into your scrubs before he leaves you to have an awkward rounding session together with the rest of the trainees.

Putting on your most neutral expression possible, you approach with your hands behind your back to hide your fidgeting hands. “Doctor Li, can I speak to you privately please?”

“Of course.” Luckily for you, everyone seems keen on getting started early and leaves you alone with him. “I just want to start by apologising, I was certainly a handful on Friday night. Thank you for going out of your way to make sure I get home safely. Things that nearly happened definitely should not have happened and I want to say sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Of course, we are acquaintances and colleagues.” Your heart flutters, but you can't pinpoint if it's disappointment or acceptance. “It's in the best interests of the hospital to make sure that all staff members go back home safely. As for the thing that nearly happened, it's best if we pretend it never happened.”

“Thank you for understanding. I'm glad we can just put it behind us.” You bite the inside of your lip, realising the emotion you feel is definitely disappointment. “We should get going, we have to do rounds.”

With the specialisation exams approaching, the general surgery department grows more tense as the days go by.

The silly jokes in the break room have now been replaced by the sighs of resident doctors who only want to pass their exams. Thankfully, the department is well aware of this and has blocked out study time in your working schedule to focus on these important exams.

With your appointments running later, you have lost the privilege of choosing your seat and are forced to sit at the only shared table without a computer. But that seems to be less of a pressing problem when you see Zayne and you realise this study session is going to be a lot harder than you initially planned it out to be.

Shaking off the distraction sat next to you, you hover over a neurosurgery textbook as you fiddle with your pen. Placing your pen down, you grab a highlighter from your worn out pencil case and you hear the faint sound of your pen rolling off the table. Your reflexes aren't quick enough to catch it in time, and it drops onto the floor right onto Zayne's side of the table.

Without trying to make a scene, you stretch out your arm to reach for the stupid pen but to no avail. Extremely tempted to just use another one, you glance at the ink filled cylinder only to realise it's your favourite one that has the smoothest ink. With a new found determination, you stretch your arm out even further only to come extremely short.

You sit back up onto your seat and watch the second hand go past. The dull sound of a chair being dragged against the floor shakes the table ever so slightly and you look to the reason that disturbed your silence.

Zayne sits there, holding your pen out waiting for you to take it back. You smile at him, instantly feeling bad that you called him the so called reason of destroying your silence. Reaching for the pen, you wrap your fingers around it, waiting for Zayne to let go. But he doesn't. He only pulls the pen closer to him, causing you to be pulled closer to him by the grip he has over your poor pen.

Blinking at him, you gesture towards the pen, hoping that he gets the hint to let go so you can get back to your studies. You even point out the table, and hope that he just leaves it there. But nothing. Staring at him, you try to figure out what on earth he is trying to get out of this.

With your eyes honed in on his, you feel the pen move in your hold and before you even realise, Zayne's fingers are ever so slightly touching yours. You welcome the feeling of his fingers against yours. If you tried hard enough, you could just about make out the softness of his fingertips despite the rough procedures he helps assist whilst in the operating room.

Or maybe you could almost feel the texture of his skin if you move even in the slightest. Somebody should move their hand away. But in all honesty, you don't want to and you can't bring yourself to do so.

But the textbooks that sit on the desk is calling out your name, begging to be read again— You let out an extremely unconvincing cough that magically causes no one in the room to bat an eye, but only then, Zayne's eyes widen in shock.

He immediately lets go of the pen, and his gaze flickers between your hands and his. He hastily flicks to a new page of his textbook, pretending that you don't exist after everything that just happened.

You can only furrow your eyebrows at his behaviour, especially after noticing the red hue that has rapidly appeared on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

This is definitely not what forgetting Friday night's incident looks like.

Sitting in the break room, you fiddle with your fingers as you watch Greyson and Yvonne walk out, leaving you the only person left in the room with Zayne. The door closes behind them and you feel the conflict between your emotions threatening to spill over but you swallow them down. “I have something to say.”

“Something private, I'm assuming.” You nod, nibbling on the inside of your gum.

“I can't keep pretending like everything is okay. I can't keep going about my day as if my brain isn't clouded so many thoughts to the point where it gets overwhelming. I have tried denying it, suppressing the feeling until it disappears— but it never does. It only makes it worse. As someone who has been wanting to be a neurosurgeon long before starting medical school, I do what I am told.” You pause, looking into his eyes and seeing your own reflection.

“I have always been inclined to think with my head, never my heart. But things have changed, and at first I hated it. At first I thought it was the rush of actually being a doctor, but it wasn't. It was you, Zayne. I can't keep ignoring what my heart wants.” Tears stream down your face. “I have to give into what my heart wants. My heart wants you, Zayne.”

Through your clouded vision, you notice Zayne struggling for words for the first time in all of your years of knowing him. Your heart stammers rapidly against your chest, waiting for him to just say something. But he doesn't say anything, only wiping your tears with his cool fingertips. The coldness of his fingers brings you relief through your flushed face.

You prepare for a heart wrenching rejection that will leave you emotionally unavailable for the next three years whilst still pretending that everything is okay for the remainder of this stupid general surgeon training.

You could perhaps start by having a long movie night with some strawberry ice cream and— “You called me Zayne. Not Li.”

“That's all you care about?” Your mouth drops as your tears find their way back into its tear ducts.

“I just poured out my entire heart and all you care about is that I called you Zayne?” Anger bubbles through your small silver of patience and you walk around him, ready to leave.

“Y/n.” You pause in your tracks, fully understanding why he was unable to say anything when you called him by his first name. “Stay. Please, I didn't even get to tell you how I feel.” His hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from leaving. Turning around, you see him with his eyes glassy with tears. “I didn't get the chance to tell you my feelings. I'm sorry for scaring you like that, I just needed time to make sure what I heard from you was truly real.”

“You don't need to feel pity for me. We can just pretend that this never happened.” You sniffle, the tears threatening to spill again.

“No, Y/n. Just stay for a minute. I just need one minute.” The sense of urgency drips from his voice. His hold on your wrist doesn't tighten or loosen, just waiting for you to make a decision.

With a sigh, you turn around and see him shut his eyes closed for a second. “Studying the health of other people's hearts was always my priority. I assumed that nothing good would happen from putting my own heart first. But fuck, Y/n. I need to be selfish for once.”

“So you…”

“I like you, Y/n.” Tears flow and you find yourself between his warm arms.

“You fucking idiot.” You shove your face in his chest as you hit his shoulder. “Had me thinking if I would be known as the one who stupidly confessed her feelings for a colleague and got rejected.” His shirt becomes drenched in your tears. “You had me so scared, Zayne!”

“Shhh. I know, I'm such an idiot aren't I?” He soothes you, rubbing a hand down your back slowly. The sound of his rapid beating heart brings you a weird sense of peace, allowing you to focus on something other than the happy, hot tears streaming down your face.

Soon enough, your breathing goes back to normal. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, addressing the smirk on his face.

“So you called me Zayne, huh?” His smile grows even wider.

“Shut up.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Make me.” Without wasting another second, the space between you is closed.

A shaky hand cups your cheek and you finally, finally feel his lips on yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and you can taste the saltiness from your dried tears. But nothing has ever felt so good.

Pulling away, your forehead rests against Zayne's, feeling his breath linger on your lips. “My place.” He nods, kissing your lips once more before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the door.

You lock the door and Zayne is immediately on you, pinning you to the nearest wall. He wraps an arm around your body, pulling you close to him and closes the distance between your lips.

His hands start to wander, his usual logical mind suddenly in a frenzy. His hands soon find the ends of your blouse, placing his cold fingertips at the base of your waist.

You gasp in response, and he takes this opportunity to sweep his tongue against your mouth, leaving you breathless. Your fingers tug at his hair and this only spurs him on, slowly dragging his fingertips higher and higher.

Zayne's lips detach from yours, leaving a connected line of your shared saliva whilst you refill your lungs with air again. Soft kisses trail down your jaw until Zayne finds refuge at the base of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“You… smell like honey.” He breathes against your neck. “I missed out on my dessert on my lunch break. But who am I to care whilst I am currently indulging in the sweetest dessert after a long day of work?” His lips cover every inch of your skin scented honey perfume, thoroughly making sure to not miss a single spot.

“Zayne…” You breathe out. “Bedroom.” His large hands settle at the back of your thighs and you jump into his arms without hesitation and recapture his lips with yours.

You find yourself being placed on the side of the bed with no idea of how Zayne actually found your bedroom whilst kissing you until all the air in your lungs disappears. But you don't have the energy to care, not when he loosens his tie with one hand wearing those silver rimmed glasses of his.

Impatient, you yank him down with his collar and kiss him like tomorrow doesn't exist. Making good use of his nimble fingers, the opening of your blouse widens as he unbuttons it. The blouse lands on the bed and you fling it away, ready to do the same with the rest of your clothes.

“Gorgeous.” Zayne pulls away from you, admiring your almost naked form. His fingers find the clasp of your bra, but never comes undone. Only when you silently nod in approval is when the flimsy piece of material is released. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Zayne whispers before pinching your nipple, kissing the sides of your neck.

A rush of pleasure runs through you and you can't help but moan at the feeling. If anything, it only encourages him more to devour you, leaving wet kisses down your neck to your chest, taking your lonely bud into his mouth.

“Zayne…” You say, breathless at the pleasure he's giving you. He sucks harder in response, obviously proud of making you feel immense pleasure without even touching you where you need it the most.

He removes his lips with a soft pop from your sensitive bud, only to quickly give the other one the same attention whilst the sleeves of his shirt ride upwards. Swirling your nipple, he removes his tie and shirt with his gaze locked on you.

You grab the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as you try to mentally capture such a lewd image. In your dazed state, your eyes rake down his body, admiring the scars on his veiny arms. He presses heated kisses against your collarbone before looking at you again with his dilated pupils.

“You've been so good for me, Zaynie. Wanna do the same for you too.” You drawl out, teasingly running down one of your hands down his bare chest, watching as he exhales heavily at the mere touch of your fingertips.

“Fuck, you are going to be the death of me.” He curses under his breath but he grabs your wrist before you can go any lower. “I have waited so long to have you in my arms, darling. Tonight is all about making you feel good.” He kisses your temple. “But that doesn't stop you from doing whatever you want for round two.” His warm breath fans your ear, goosebumps quickly forming along your exposed arms.

True to his words, his fingers find the buttons on your trousers and you lift up your hips, removing the unwanted piece of material. Slow circles are traced along your inner thighs, until a finger traces over your drenched panties and you buck your core towards his hand at the fleeting sensation.

“Already this soaked for me?” He mockingly asks, continuing to move just one finger up and down your covered slit. You nod quickly in response, hoping that he actually starts moving properly. “I'm honoured. I'll give you what you so desperately want.” A ripping sound echoes throughout the room, and you feel your hot core exposed to the cold air.

But before you can even open your mouth to protest, a long, thick finger breaches your entrance. You shamelessly moan, feeling his finger explore your tight walls. “Look at you, feeling this good with just one finger.” He chuckles. “I haven't even gotten to your little sweet spot yet.” With the curl of his finger, the pads of his finger brushes against that gummy spot against your walls that has you grab your sheets.

“Fuck. Please!” You cry out, tears filling your vision.

“Please what, darling? I can't give you what you want until you ask for it.” Zayne says, another finger teasing the tip of your entrance.

“Please don't stop! Feels s-so good, Zaynie. Need more.” He slips another inside your wet core, fingers continue to stimulate your pretty g-spot, practically sending fireworks through your body.

“So responsive for me, sweetheart.” His thumb finds your clit, rubbing quick figure of eights whilst you moan unabashedly in pleasure. “I can feel you tighten up around me. Are you going to cum this quickly?”

“Close, s-so close Zaynie. I'm gonna cum, gonna be good, so good.” You grind against his hand, chasing the pleasure right on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah?” He asks and you shakily nod in agreement. “Cum for me then, sweetheart.” With his fingers never slowing down its ministrations on your poor pussy, you feel the knot in your stomach snap and the pleasure overwhelms your body.

“Took my fingers so well, my good girl.” Your eyes lazily follow his handsome face. An arm grabs your waist, pulling you onto his lap, your lips ghosting over his. “I'm not finished with you yet, darling.” He closes the distance, your wet core hovering over his trousers.

Kissing you deeper, the distance closes even more and you feel his hard bulge under you. The feeling of the material and his imprint feels too good— with every little movement that you and Zayne make, your swollen clit catches against his trousers. “I can feel you dripping, baby.”

You moan in response, pushing your breasts flush against his chest for more stimulation. “You're going to make even more of mess on me, understood?” You nod, unable to help the drool leaving your mouth, landing between your chest and his. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his stupidly hard cock rubbing against your swollen clit has you on cloud nine.

“You're all mine. Mine. My good girl is going to listen to me and make a mess, isn't she? Clenching around fucking nothing. Don't worry baby, you'll have your fill soon, I'll make sure of it. Leave you aching for days, so you never forget who makes you feel this good. I want you to keep your eyes open for me when you cum, can you do that for me?”

The thought of having Zayne making you feel so good without him properly fucking you has you going insane. He nibbles on your ear, making it all too easy to hear how desperate he is for you, making the cord inside of you snap.

“Hah, Zayne! Gonna make a mess, hck!” You cry out, your vision getting blurry as you fight back the urge to keep your eyes closed as pleasure drives through you. In the midst of your vision, you notice Zayne's stupidly handsome smirk as he watches your response, flicking between your face and his lap where you sit on.

“Filthy girl, making such a mess.” He looks down to his darkened trousers. “Did such a good job all over me.” He dries the tears on your face, placing you back down on the sheets as he fixes your hair and kisses your cheek to give you a short respite.

“Can you keep up, baby? Haven't even gotten to the best part yet.” The sound of a zipper reaches your ears in your relaxed state, Zayne freeing his cock from the restraints of his boxers.

The prominent vein running on the side, oh how much fun it would be to watch his reaction as you run your tongue over it. Perhaps for another time.

“Do you have any condoms anywhere, darling?” Shaking your head no, you see the indecisiveness in his eyes.

“Please Zaynie, if I wait any longer I might just cry.” You plead.

“We need to stay safe, Y/n. We don't want any unexpected problems.” He screws his eyes closed, trying to think of something.

“We can get a pill tomorrow, Zaynie.” You press your lips together. “I've waited to have you for so long, I can't wait much longer.” You see his eyes waver. “Please, baby?”

“You are the only one that makes all of my logic fly out of the window. Just this once.” He languidly strokes himself a couple times, his jaw tightening ever so slightly from the pleasure. He hovers over you, his face close to yours. “Tell me you want me and I will give you all of me.”

“I want you— no, I need you Zayne. Need you to fill me up so bad.” You beg and a heart throbbing smile appears on his face. You feel a stretch, your head spinning at the dangerous mix of pain and pleasure.

“I've got you, gorgeous. Just breathe slowly for me, okay?” You follow his instructions, the stretch quickly ebbing into pure pleasure.

Your jaw drops at the feeling and you desperately crave for more. “Need all of you, baby. I can take it, need to feel all of you.” You wrap your legs around his waist, ready for more. He pushes in further and your walls clamp around him, memorising the way his cock curves ever so slightly against where you need it the most.

“So tight for me gorgeous. I'm such a lucky man.” He rests his forehead against yours, savouring the closeness between you two. Without a warning, he pulls back painstakingly slow before pushing himself back in.

“Zayne!” You whine, eyes screwing shut as he continues to thrust repeatedly.

“I'm here, darling.” He finds your lips, slotting it between his, the sounds of your shared saliva echoing throughout the room. You moan into his mouth as he finds his rhythm, showing you the fruits of his stamina.

“So fucking tight.” He disconnects his lips from yours. “Can't believe we spent so long arguing when I could have been in here. We need to make up for all the lost time, sweetheart.” An 'mhm' is all you can manage, your mind only filled with Zayne, Zayne, Zayne.

“Has my darling of a surgeon forgotten how to speak?” You rake your fingernails down his back. “Have I made you go all dumb with just my cock?”

“I can —ngh— still —fuck— talk!” You just about manage to say, looking up at Zayne, drinking in your fucked out appearance.

“I guess I haven't done my job properly.” He snaps his hips forwards and you grasp onto his biceps for support. “Tell me darling, what is the seventh cranial nerve?” You don't have the willpower to prove his stupidly gorgeous face wrong, even though any other moment you would have jumped at such an easy opportunity to do so.

How does he expect you to know when he's literally rearranging your insides?

You use whatever brainpower you have left, formulating a snarky reply. “Zayne I don't fucking care about some stupid cranial nerve right now.” You stare into his hazel green eyes. “Please don't stop, feels so good.”

“As you wish.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips and drills into your sopping core with no mercy. Your head tilts back, exposing your bare neck for him. He licks your skin as a warning, sucking and grazing the surface with his teeth, definitely more than enough to leave pretty marks in the morning. His warm breath finds the small of your ear, nibbling on the fleshy part of your earlobe ever so gently in attempts to bring you closer to the edge.

“I can feel you clenching around me, gorgeous. Feels so good doesn't it?” He mocks you, his tone of voice mimicking to yours. “I'm going to make you feel even better.” Zayne says and much to your dismay, pulls out.

You feel his hands reach out for your calves, folding your legs against your chest, pushing you into the mattress in a mean mating press. “How about this, baby?” He pushes back in and your eyes roll back.

You can feel him everywhere, this position makes your chest heave as you feel all the breath in your lungs being stolen from you with each snap of his hips. “What about now, darling? Do you have words left to say, or has the cat finally gotten your tongue?” You open your mouth, but no words come out. The cool air floods your mouth, a stark comparison to your burning body.

“Thought so.” Zayne smirks, tightening his grip on your waist. “Fuck darling, how did you get even tighter? It's like your cunt is begging me to not stop since your pretty mouth can't do it for you. You're so close, aren't you baby?” Your eyes become glassy, the pleasure overwhelming your senses as you whimper in a pathetic response.

His shoulders are so wide, you can barely even see the ceiling. It would definitely would be fun to leave blooming marks for him to cover up in the morning. A calculated thrust snaps you out of your daydreaming. “Come on, darling. Let all the neighbours know who makes you feel this good.”

His hand snakes towards your throbbing clit, giving it some needed attention after what feels like an eternity. “Hah— 'm close! Cum? Can I cum?” You plead.

“I know you're close darling. Say I'm yours and I'll let you cum.” The quick movements on your clit never stop, if anything they only speed up at his request.

“I'm yours! Yours, yours, Zayne! Mmm, my boyfriend is fucking me so good!” You cry out, your pleasure filled mind begging for release.

“Say that again, darling.”

“Boyfriend fucking me so good! Love it so much, please let me cum!” His eyes lock onto yours, filled with need and desire.

“Only your boyfriend can make you feel this good, can't he?” He greedily presses his fingers into the side of your hips. “Need to see you make a mess. Cum for me.” His thick mushroom head bullies your sweet spot in an uneven rhythm, a bead of sweat falls down his temples.

You don't even comprehend what comes out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes into you. Waves of pleasure run through your body as you blindly grab onto Zayne to ground yourself. You weakly open your eyes and watch Zayne's movements begin to falter as he finds release, hot white spurts of his cum finding home inside your fluttering walls.

With gentleness reserved only for you, he pulls out and finds a spot next to you on the bed. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi boyfriend.” His ears burn with a red ruby colour. You smile, albeit exhausted and snuggle up closer to him.

“I wasn't too much, was I?” He asks, his eyes raking down your body to see the beginning of littered dark marks forming on your skin. “I'm sorry if I hurt you, darling.”

“You didn't, Zaynie. Besides, I wouldn't mind it if you did.” The corner of your lips goes up ever so slightly, feeling the exhaustion clear instantly.

“We have tomorrow off, don't we? Don't you think it's time for you to fulfil your promise of round two?” Your finger trails down his chest and Zayne exhales heavily.

“Let me make my handsome boyfriend feel good, hm?” You look into his eyes for confirmation and latch onto his neck when he begs you for more.

Walking to the lunch cafeteria, you feel a hand appear out of nowhere and pull you into the storage closet you know all too well. “Who are— Zayne?” You exclaim and he places a hand over your mouth to quieten you down, so you bite on his fingers as revenge. He removes his hand, and you rub your hands over the bite marks to soothe the pain.

“Why are we in here?” You question your boyfriend.

“Darling, do you remember this little room?” He asks and you nod quickly in hopes he lets you free to hurry down to the cafeteria. “This was the room where you called us acquaintances. I was not particularly happy with that label on our relationship.”

“Baby, you were the one who told me and I quote, “This is not how acquaintances act around each other,” so it was you, not me.” He only pouts and you kiss his lips as a quick act of comfort. “Can we go now? It's lunch, you know that they serve my favourite lasagna on Mondays!”

“I'm not hungry for that kind of lunch right now.” He replies, caging you between him and the door. “Let me have my lunch, hm?” Realising what he wants, you let him press his body against yours as you impatiently await his lips on yours.

“Hold on, let me get a mop and bucket first!” A muffled voice says through the other side of the door and you feel your skin grow cold at the thought of someone discovering something that definitely should not be happening in a hospital storage closet.

Zayne's hand instinctively reaches for the handle, clearly looking stressed. But your mind strays elsewhere, as you notice the prominent veins on his arms and hands as he uses all his strength to keep the door closed.

“I think the door's locked, Joseph! Just wait a minute, I'll go grab the keys from reception!” The voice fades into the distance and you silently let out a sigh of relief.

“He's gone.” Zayne lets out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you, my knight in shining armour. So brave, so strong.” You thank him, running your hands down his arms. “We have to hurry before Joseph's friend comes and finds us, don't we?” Zayne's eyes become heavy lidded, one hand on the door and the other resting above your head.

His forehead rests on yours, forcing you to make eye contact with him, sending a swarm of butterflies down your stomach. “My gorgeous darling.” He breathes out before greedily capturing your lips. Your chest presses against his and he shudders at the sensation.

“If we reveal our relationship one day, everyone is going to know who you belong to. Kisses—” He places a kiss on your jawline. “Here,” soft kisses press against your pulse point. “and here.”

The sound of rattling against the door stops your boyfriend in his tracks, going back to putting all of his attention on the door.

You pout, undoing a few of his top buttons to reveal his collarbone. Lifting yourself off the door, you attach yourself to him and leave open mouthed kisses against the hidden area that only you can look at.

“It's not working.” Joseph's friend mutters under his breath. “Joseph, I'm going to try another storage closet, I won't be too long!” He walks away, and you wrap your arms around Zayne's waist.

“He should be gone for good now, baby.” You rub circles around his waist. “But about the revealing the relationship—”

“I'm sorry if I forced something onto you that you don't want to do, my love.” He replies and you shake your head.

“I want to. I just don't know the best time to reveal it. Perhaps the award ceremony, since we're both nominees for the same award?”

“I think that's a wonderful idea.” He pats your head. “Now should we go get your lasagna?” You shake your head, your fingers running against the faint marks against his collarbone before fixing up his buttons.

“Now we can, as long as you let me go first to get my lasagna before it runs out.”

“Are you sure it's not to avoid us exposing our relationship to the whole of the hospital?” You cover your mouth in fake shock. “Both.” Kissing his cheek, you leave him to stop the flush on his cheeks from reddening more as you open the door.

“Over here, Y/n!” Yvonne calls out your name, and you spot her with the other surgical trainees. Walking past the tables, you sit down on the chair opposite Yvonne and place the precious lasagna onto the table.

“It looks like everyone is here?” Looking around the table, you pretend to not notice the seat next to you, intended for your secret boyfriend.

“Zayne isn't.” Greyson replies, and you open your mouth into a small 'o' shape as you pretend to remember his existence. “Have you seen him, by the way? I wonder if he will get here in time before the cheesecakes from the counter are all gone.”

“Not on my way here, no.” You bite into the lasagna, the taste making you instantly smile. “Oh. There he is.” You point to the man hovering over the dessert section. He sits beside you, pretending to not pay any attention to you.

“Since we are finishing our first year as doctors soon and have all passed our specialisation exams, which hospitals are you guys going to work at?” Yvonne asks, grabbing a spoonful of rice.

“The one in Skyhaven, I'm already dreading the long journey there.”

“I'm heading to Chansia, I hope it's as peaceful as people say it is.”

Hearing everyone is going their separate ways, you pick at your lasagna as your appetite slips away with every passing minute. “I'm staying here, thankfully.” Zayne answers, his warm hand is placed on your thigh, drawing small circles to comfort you.

“I am too.” You reply, reaching under the table with your free hand, you feel for Zayne's hand.

“We all need to keep in touch, guys! I have absolutely no idea how, considering our schedules are somehow going to be more intense, but I expect a reunion at least twice a year!” Yvonne points at each person on the table, making eye contact with everyone.

“Of course, don't even worry about it. You wouldn't let us live it down in the group chat, Yvonne.” You reply, causing everyone to laugh.

His large hand reaches for yours, tracing the lines on your palms before interlocking your fingers with his. His calloused thumb rubs the back of your hand gently, hiding back a smirk when you jolt slightly at the sensation.

“Are you okay, Y/n? You jumped in your seat. Was it a fly or something?” Greyson asks, putting all of the attention on you.

“Yep, I'm okay. Just hit my foot against the bar under the table, no worries.” You say through your teeth, hoping they move on and find a new topic to talk about.

“I've been working here for almost a full year and you're telling me there was a bar under the table? How have I not given myself bruises yet?” Yvonne's head dips under the table, and you immediately shove Zayne's hand away from you.

Heat rushes to your face and you tap your foot against the floor to calm down your racing heartbeat. “There actually is one! I think it's a miracle I haven't hit my foot against it yet. It's a sign that next year will go smoothly!” Unsure of what to say, you hum in agreement, picking up your fork to eat your lasagna with one hand as your other finds Zayne's under the table.

“Zayne, why are you eating your lasagna with one hand? Cutting just using a fork seems troublesome.” Greyson butts in, and you feel his hand grip yours tighter.

“I want to get more comfortable with using my left hand for surgeries. Is there a problem, Greyson?” Your boyfriend replies, causing Greyson to compliment him on his dedication for wanting to improve quickly.

Glancing at the clock, your shoulders relax as the time reaches 12:53. “Guys, we have seven more minutes before lunch ends. We should probably go.” Shoving the last bite of lasagna in, you give Zayne's hand a quick squeeze before heading off to put your plate away.

You sit in the large hall that Akso has rented out for the awards ceremony, admiring the blue decorations and banners that cover the walls as you await for the next award to be revealed. Looking over to Zayne who sits next to you, he gives you a gentle smile with a quiet nod which instantly calms your nerves.

“The last award to be announced will be the 'Most Promising Rookie Surgeon of the Year’. Will the nominees please stand up and make their way to the stage, please?” The hospital director asks and you smooth the material of your dress before standing up alongside Zayne.

Shuffling past others in the row to get to the front, the director notices you and Zayne. “Ah yes, the infamous double-trouble duo, Doctor L/n and Doctor Li. Doctor Zhou, you must have had your hands full with these two in the same department.” Everyone laughs as Doctor Zhou eagerly nods her head in agreement.

You make your way up the stage, intentionally walking slower up the stairs to prevent falling with your heels on. “With these two under our radar, our future patients will be in very good hands.” Standing side by side, you notice the large bouquet of flowers that will be given to the winner.

“Regardless of the results, being nominated for such an impressive award is truly an amazing feat. It only starts the future of an exciting career.” He smiles. “But alas, there must only one winner. The winner for the 'Most Promising Rookie Surgeon of the Year’ is… Doctor L/n!”

Loud cheers flood your ears, and you see everyone on the general surgery team giving you proud smiles and claps. Turning around to face Zayne, he smiles as if he holds all the stars in his eyes. “Congrats, my love.” His lips read.

You feel the large bouquet of flowers end up in your arms, and you're gently ushered towards the microphone for your short speech. “I— wow. Being a nominee was truly enough for me, but I would just like to thank all those who helped me get to this point. The lovely patients who taught me the importance of putting others before myself, the general surgery team especially my mentor, Doctor Zhou.” You face Zayne, and he nods, giving you confirmation.

You move the microphone slightly so you face him as you give your speech. “Most importantly, to my pillar of support. Zayne Li. I know that we had an extremely rocky start, but somewhere along the way, you understood me and helped me become someone that others could rely on. Thank you, my love.” The cheers start up again, and you take a celebratory picture with your flowers on stage.

Murmurs of the audience begin to rev up, people talking about how they find it hard to believe that the two people who wanted to take out each other's guts somehow became lovers.

The deadly combination of large flowers blocking your view and tall heels make you unstable on your feet as you walk towards the end of the stage. Above your view of the flowers, you notice Zayne making his way down the stairs and waits down at the bottom.

A familiar hand patiently hangs in the air, waiting for you to take it. You barely manage to hold your hand out and he stabilises you, preventing you from falling down the steps.

The murmurs immediately stop and are replaced with gasps, realising that you weren't lying about your relationship. Disappointed sighs are heard from certain members of the audience, with them talking about how they won't be able to shoot their shot with Zayne or you, making you smile up at Zayne.

Making your way back down to your seats, you hold the flowers in one hand and Zayne's hand in the other. He guides you to your seat, helping you place the flowers on the floor. Yvonne turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face as she asks you when you started to date Zayne. You laugh, elbowing her to stay quiet as the ceremony comes to a close.

Zayne holds your flowers as the entire general surgery department stand outside the hall. “So are you going to tell us exactly how this relationship started or am I going to need to hack into your phone?” Yvonne asks, eyeing your purse that Zayne conveniently also holds.

“That's going to take too long, I'm going to need a few hours for that one!” Yvonne's jaw drops, realising there is so much more to the story than she thought.

“The entire department hosted a bet about you guys.” You look at Zayne, who looks equally confused. “We wanted to see if the tension you guys had would either end up in one of you guys— or both— stabbing each other in the back or if you would end up together. Thankfully, Yvonne and I won.” Greyson high fives Yvonne whilst everyone else sighs, taking out large bills out of their wallets.

“If you told me last year I would be in a relationship with Zayne, I would have laughed in your face. Especially after I intentionally picked a fight with him after we met.” Zayne chuckles as he reminisces your first interaction.

“I had too much confidence for someone who thought it would be best to listen to instructions to a stranger instead of a receptionist on how to get to lecture hall C5.”

“C5? Darling, you asked me where lecture hall E5 was, not C5.” Your jaw drops, realising that this entire time, Zayne never meant to intentionally set you up and send you to the wrong place.

“Your reasoning for starting a six year feud was because he sent you to the wrong lecture hall?” Doctor Zhou asks, clearly amused.

“In my defence, I asked for C5 and not E5— he made me late to the first lecture that I desperately wanted to make a good first impression in. It was extremely loud that day, C and E do sound quite similar when you shout them at someone.” You grin, with everyone still shocked at your levels of pettiness.

“Anyways, I'm glad things ended well for us.” You say, and Zayne kisses your temple lovingly.

“I'm hungry.” Greyson sighs, pretending to not see your public display of affection.

“Should we go to the barbecue place for dinner?”

“As long as Y/n doesn't get too drunk and jump into the fountain, call a good friend before falling asleep after her makeup is removed.” Your boyfriend replies with a grin, and your hand flies up to cover his mouth.

“You did what?” Yvonne turns to face you in shock, her mouth open.

“Dinner sounds wonderful, Greyson!” You swiftly change the topic, turning on your heel as you walk towards your car. Zayne closely follows, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours.

intellectual property of ©hirayalia, 2026. do not copy or feed to ai.

spiritual connection. genuinely. he's an artist in this lifetime; he understands your yearning to enjoy the mundane and find beauty in it.

he gave everything up for love, and whilst he still carries his duty to lemuria, he understands the value of living a simple life. you become his reason to flake out on thomas's events or leave early when everything becomes too much.

he always drags you to the beach for inspiration, saying that it'll help with your creativity too if you've chosen to work in an artsy field. and if not, he reassures you that the beach will give you some much-needed time away to relax and replenish your energy.

sometimes your conversations are filled with excitement, words running into the next as you try to get everything out. but at other times, there's only silence lingering in the space between you. and that's okay. he loves your time together both ways.

but i can see you two having philosophical discussions together on the regular, sometimes about the state of the world, at other times about personal values, art, film, media and more.

if you work from home, he'd insist that you work from his home. the private study is yours now. need another room for storage, books, arts and crafts? magically, it's available. and they each have the most stunning view of the ocean! for your inspiration and relaxation, of course.

tags along on your ludicrously long shopping trips without a complaint. okay, well... maybe he does complain. but you know he never really means it. whether your looking for an outfit for a function or new materials for an upcoming project, he's all over it, helping you to choose what's right for you and giving you recommendations along the way.

whenever you feel like you're not doing enough, he'll take you somewhere nice and quiet, like to a coastal town or quaint cabin. "isn't this so peaceful?" he muses. "you know, if you were in corporate, you wouldn't be able to enjoy such beautiful places. you'd be too busy and stressed all the time." you always end up feeling better after your little trip.

at first, sylus doesn't understand you. what do you mean you don't have ambitions? what do you mean you're not competitive or fierce or that you haven't dedicated yourself to something whole-heartedly? but as time goes on, he realises that you're still the woman he's fallen in love with lifetimes ago. it's just that your ambitions and passions look different this time round.

he loves riling you up about your fields of expertise. he lives for the way your eyes light up whenever he asks you about animal mating rituals or history fun facts. and he'll tease you about it—"kitten, why do you know so much about vikings?" or "kitten, don't tell me you've been keeping pet spiders behind my back?" but it's all in jest.

the thing that surprised him the most about you was that you don't like to argue. you like to debate, yes. but you don't like to argue. and he struggles to deal with that. the first few times he threw argumentative curve balls your way was met with pure confusion, and any violence he would incite, such as you hurting him or others, was enough to upset you, even bring you to tears. after that, he remained aware of your sensitivity and did his best to avoid such topics, knowing how it troubled you.

but in the same way, his line of duty gave you a chance to express certain harsh feelings without fear of losing the one you loved. and over time, you two grew into a rhythm. maybe you'd toss in a threat here and there. and he'd always respond with a chuckle, knowing you weren't being serious, nor did you want him to encourage you to act on those threats.

you detest social events as much as he does, and often leave early when you get the chance (or make the chance, really).

you also help him save money, even though he has no need to, by snapping up bargains and reassuring him that no, you don't need another designer handbag. he still spoils you rotten, of course. we are talking about sylus. but he doesn't spoil you as much he wants to, seeing how uncomfortable it can make you. no, he doesn't like it when you spend your money on things. but yes, he does love seeing your smile when you show him something you were saving up for months to buy.

i think you bring a sense of normalcy to his life. you push him to see how beautiful the little things are, like a ladybug on a leaf or the smell of fresh bread filling onychinus's base. and for that, he's eternally grateful.

another spiritual level understanding. mr philos prince turned disaster chef. he understands where you're coming from, and he loves embracing the mundane with you.

the best naps. literally you two take the most restorative naps together. when you wake up, you find drool smushed across your cheek as xavier sleep-talks quietly. the sun has since sunken below the horizon.

also i can envision the lazy weekend mornings when it comes to you two!! never breakfast, always brunch. comfy pjs. reading together on the couch.

what is overtime? once you both clock out, you clock out. phone is switched off. hunter's watch floats in an empty fish bowl. you go on an adventure to try all of linkon's hot pot restaurants in one night. long story short, it doesn't work out. when you finally return to his apartment, you both sit on the couch and nurse your bloated stomachs like you're in the third trimester.

you two love discovering new places together and taking it slow, usually bypassing most tourist attractions and visiting some of the locals' favourite spots. you have a shoe box full of postcards you've collected from all of the places you've travelled to together, your itinerary or sweet love notes written on the back of them.

whenever xav goes off on his own, it makes you feel a little lonely. but you keep his apartment in order while he shuts down illegal protocore auctions or slays fearsome wanderers as lumiere. the strawberry plants all have names, and the birds love to chirp whenever you talk to them, responding in their own secret code. and when he comes back, you reassure him that you still love him—the real him (even if the mask stays on😝)

you handle the cooking while he handles the cleaning; you're the perfect duo. however, i'd like to think that as time goes on, xavier improves at cooking, even if his improvement is marginal. maybe with you around, he can finally make a semi-decent coffee.

THE dilly-dally power couple. always late to every event because you two keep finding something to do whilst the other person is busy. you want to change your shoes, and xavier needs the bathroom. you finish changing your shoes, but he's still in the bathroom. you start re-applying your lipstick. he's finished with the bathroom and begins sorting through the laundry, so on and so forth.

he always reminds you whenever you get too much into your head that living simply is not a sign of weakness or failure. "there's nothing wrong with wanting time for yourself. i want your time for myself, too."

LOVES visiting you at work. the type to walk into your workplace like he's a customer and start bugging you for help. "but miss, i'm looking for dark silver hooks, not plain silver hooks. don't you have anything a bit more moody?" and he's chatty, too. "i'm buying them for my girlfriend. she's really picky about these little things. but without her keen eye for detail, her projects wouldn't look half as incredible as they do. let me show you a few." whips out his phone, starts scrolling through his camera roll, reminiscing about all of your craft projects to you!

he comes in every week and does this, btw. on first-name basis with all of your colleagues and makes sure they know exactly who he is in your life. talk about having a 'needy' boyfriend🙄

if you get into any trouble, he'll sort it out for you with some stern words. has definitely made some of the young casuals cry.

i think you two would be one of those healthy living power couples. grocery shopping together, meal prep, couples workouts. you two go on a nature walk every sunday morning, sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting lively about that new movie coming out, and at other times, one of you would nerd out about something whilst the other listened intently.

but back to the topic of food. you and caleb always cook delicious meals together. some nights he takes the lead, while on others, you show him what've got. and the leftovers reheated for lunch the next day somehow always taste better than last night's dinner.

always assembles his model aeroplane kits when you're at home. he loves having you nearby. maybe he'll sit you on the edge of the table and pat your thigh occasionally as he works. at other times, he'll ask you to hold the parts whilst he glues them together.

caleb was jumping for joy when you said yes to moving to skyhaven. no fuss, no fight, no need to convince you or bribe you with braised chicken wings. you simply said yes. he already had everything ready for you to move in before he even asked you. and when you finally did, it was as if everything had fallen into place. there's nowhere you'd rather be than by caleb's side, and there's no way he could have lived without you any longer.

i feel like caleb would be adamant about keeping you away from the fleet. there's too much drama that comes with it. if you want a nice and simple life, he'll give that to you. and thus, the point of contention in your relationship would be you trying to make caleb see that he doesn't have to hide the burdens of being the farspace fleet's colonel from you, that his vulnerability could never consume your peace.

i think zayne feels guilty that he's a workaholic when you're not, because it's him who keeps you both apart. there are no wanderers you're chasing down or sudden missions that you have to go on, which made him feel a little less bad about receiving a late-night call for an emergency surgery. it's always him who has to end your dates early. and it's even worse if the call comes during the middle of the night, his ringtone disturbing your sleep as he rushes to take the call.

what's even worse is that you reassure him it's alright, that you really don't mind if he's busy. you two have such different lifestyles, it's hard to make time to see each other. and it does get lonely at times when he's doing back-to-back surgeries, and you get pushed to the side.

but zayne always spoils you afterwards. maybe he'll take you to a café and order your favourite sweets. maybe he'll organise a weekend trip for you both to some beautiful place a few hours from linkon.

i can imagine you two would have the best late-night cuddles. maybe he got home when you were in the shower and hopped in with you (with your permission, of course!). no talking, just relaxing into each other's touch as the warm water cascades over your bodies. and when you both get out, you help each other dry off and moisturise. you pay extra attention to his hands, the skin between his fourth finger and pinky about to crack any moment now from how often he washes his hands. then off to bed you both go, tangled up in each other beneath the covers, murmuring quietly about your days until you nod off into a deep sleep.

because of zayne's demanding work schedule, you often go to most places on your own (which he feels terrible about). but to you, even if you went there alone, you don't truly feel alone. you always send him pictures of the scenery or other little things that made you think of him, such as a bird eating ice cream or a stray cat staring at you from beneath a tree. sometimes, you bring him back the most popular pastries from that place. at other times, you recreate one of the dishes you had there. anything to bring him into the experience since he couldn't physically be there with you.

but once he's finally forced to take leave, he won't let you out of his sight (or his bed dkjlflskskflkhjklfjks). "we rarely get to spend this much time together. can you blame me for wanting to keep you all to myself?"

this man gives you the biggest wave of imposter syndrome. winner of a bajillion prestigious awards at such a young age, casual olympic athlete (probably), casual professional photographer, casual runway model, casual university lecturer, etc. is there anything he can't do? you often find yourself wondering why such an accomplished and handsome man would want to be with you. and whenever you feel like that, you text him, 'stupid zaynie with all of his stupid accomplishments'. to which he replies with, 'he's very stupid indeed. even clopidogrel ran away from him this morning, if that makes you feel better, dear.' and it does. just enough until you see him again, so he can comfort you properly.

elle's notes: i'm apart of a career program this term (i study commerce, major in accounting although that might be about to change), and something these networking events for the program have taught me is that i don't have that 'agent of capitalism' vibe. like lots of the students and mentors who are a part of this program look down upon living a simple life. when i said in my first mentoring session, 'yeah, i'd like to try lots of different things in my future. there's no one perfect job for me,' my buddy and mentor looked at me like i was insane. all my mentor said was, 'wow, very gen z.' have my opinions changed since that first session... maybe? maybe not? but anyways, i hope y'all enjoy reading this! pls consider leaving me a comment or an rb as those mean so much to me! thank you!

It seems like every single university student has had the same idea of deciding to reduce their carbon footprint today, with everyone cramped in the same bus that you are in.

After a few “excuse me's”, you find refuge in a less crowded area and lean against the wall whilst you wait for the bus to get to your stop.

With the automated voice announcing your stop, a large chunk of the crowd gets off and you finally have enough personal space for the first time in twenty minutes.

You step down the steps, with your phone in hand whilst you follow the online map on your phone. The next instruction from your phone's map is to cross the road and like the law abiding citizen you are, you wait at the pedestrian crossing until the little man at the traffic light turns green.

With the sound of loud beeping filling the street, you walk towards the opposite side of the crossing. The map orientates itself whilst you change direction and another loud, blaring sound fills your ears.

Looking up to the cause of the sound, a speedy white car drives towards you. Running towards safety, you check the little man at the crossing, only to see that he is happily glowing green without a care in the world.

So much for a good start to the first day of university.

Walking up to the entrance, your eyes scan the building walls for a sign showing all the information about the rooms in the building. But just as lady luck would have it, nothing of said sign is found.

With loud conversations coming at you from left and right and your patience running thin, you decide to spare yourself more pain and walk up to the nearest person, praying silently that they know where your room is.

“Excuse me?” You tap the shoulder of a tall, black haired student. “Do you know where lecture hall C5 is?”

“Sorry, do you mind repeating that? It’s hard to hear what you’re saying over all this noise.” He asks, bringing his ear closer to you.

“Do you know where lecture hall C5 is?” You repeat, making your voice louder.

“It’s on the fifth floor, get on the lift, take a left and you should get there.” The man points to a set of grey, shiny doors and you quickly thank him before running off into the lift.

The lift stops at the fifth floor after picking up and dropping off people at every single floor and as soon as the doors open, you squeeze past others on the lift, mumbling a few apologies before dashing to the left to get to your room.

Doors are plastered with signs that all begin with E, but no C5. You do a quick 360 degree spin, only to be met with more rooms that are also E. Checking the time on your watch, you feel your heart sink knowing that the lecture has officially started.

There goes your chance at making a good first impression, you will forever be known as the student who was late on the first day. You sigh and walk back to the lift doors.

Your eyes wander and you find yourself finally looking at the information board. Level 3: lecture halls C1 to C31. Better late than never.

Heart pounding, you slowly open the door in an attempt to not draw attention to yourself but it betrays you, making a loud squeaking sound that proudly announces your presence. Bracing yourself for an embarrassing conversation with the professor in front of the whole class, you anxiously hold your breath.

But the professor says nothing, only staring at you with their eyebrow raised at your terrible punctuality before continuing on about something to do with what textbooks they recommend borrowing from the library.

Your eyes search the area for a free seat, finding one at the opposite end of the row that you're standing next to. “Excuse me, sorry, can I get through please?” You quietly ask, feeling the embarrassment wash over you.

The person looks up to face you, and all embarrassment is quickly replaced with anger. It’s the guy who gave the wrong directions to this room.

He shakes his head, frowning at you before grabbing his backpack to make space for you to squeeze through the little space for you to get to the free seat at the end of the row.

What kind of ass of a person gives someone the wrong directions and proceeds to act cocky?

Making it to the end of the row, you sit down on the free chair with a growing feeling that you found someone to keep an eye out for.

The hour quickly ends, filled with what to expect during the upcoming academic year, to who you can go to if you need any extra support. Everyone makes a beeline for the exit, eager to make friends on the first day.

But you? You follow the person who has ruined the first impression that the professor has of you.

Petty? Without a doubt. But extremely necessary.

“Excuse me?” You tap the shoulder of a familiar black buttoned up man who turns around. “I understand medical school is competitive and all, but don't you think it's completely unnecessary to purposely lead a fellow medical student to the wrong room on the very first day?”

“I'm sorry, but were you not the person who asked a fellow student for directions? Don't you think you should have asked a receptionist or at least have better observational skills on an important day like this? Maybe then, you wouldn't have needed to ask me in such a crowded corridor and misheard me.” He sighs.

“It might be difficult for you to believe, but I am not the type of person who would purposely sabotage someone else over a matter like this.” Despite this being your second conversation with him, you tell that he was being genuine.

But you’re too far deep into hating him. “Well then,” You glance at the name tag stuck on his chest.

“Zayne Li. Why did you shake your head at me when I came in late?” You cross your arms over your chest. “How am I meant to believe you? This is our second conversation after all. How are you going to prove it?”

“I had a neck cramp. But if you don't believe me, then that's on you. I know that I’m right and somewhere deep down, you know it too. Now if you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” He says, adjusting his backpack straps and makes his way to the exit.

“Does anyone have any questions?” The professor asks, pulling the microphone away from her mouth but not quick enough for a quiet sigh to reach the speakers.

The rest of the class groan and some place their heads on the desks, as they prepare themselves to stay back for an extra ten minutes.

Your hand shoots up quickly and you try to find a certain someone’s hand somewhere in the large crowd of people. The professor gestures for you to ask first. “Do you have any extra resources that you recommend for extra reading?”

“Yes, it will be attached to the email when I send out next week’s readings.” She says and points to Zayne.

“Do you know of any recent research papers that I could look through?”

“I will email them to you separately.” The professor sits down on the chair, making it very obvious that she is going to have an incoming headache.

You raise your hand. “Yes Y/n, I will email you the same thing.” You meekly lower your hand.

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Will there be an opportunity for extra credit?” Zayne asks, and the professor shakes her head and dismisses everyone in the lecture hall.

You grab your bag and find Simone and Tara in the swarm of people, making your way to the exit of the hall. “I don’t understand, why does he keep trying to one-up me?” Tara pats your shoulder comfortingly and Simone just sighs.

“Did I just hear you say that you didn't understand something, L/n?” Zayne approaches you with what seems to be amusement.

The stupid expression on his face is practically begging for you to slap it right off.

“What on earth do you want, Li?” You look at him, clearly annoyed. “Why are you even here in the first place? Don't you have to be in the library or something?”

“I do actually, why? Are you that interested in me to the point where you know my schedule down to the second?” He replies, clearly amused at your expression.

“Bold of you to assume that I would pay that much interest towards you.” You scoff. “I just know that your antisocial ass willingly locks yourself in the library until the librarian kicks you out of the building.”

“Glad to know that I spend more time studying than you. Clearly, I know where my priorities lie.” Zayne replies.

“That's because you study inefficiently. A lecture that would take you four hours would take me less than half the amount of time to learn. Besides, I actually have a life outside studying. Speaking of which,” You check your phone for the time. “we have to go to make the lunch reservation we made!” Tara and Simone look at you wide eyed, completely forgetting about your shared lunch plans.

Zayne stares as you quickly forget about him, walking away with Simone and Tara chatting about the restaurant’s new seasonal menu.

You sit in the massive lecture hall, your laptop sitting on the desk, bright as a flashlight in order to keep yourself from falling asleep in the lecture. Tara sits on your left, shopping online for crystals and tarot cards whilst Simone somehow plays a random RPG game with the volume muted.

“We have a simulated case to end this lecture.” Your ears perk up. “Patient is a female, two years old and has been diagnosed with ADHD and has come in with her parents over concerns of a deviated eye. What test would you do after a case history is done?”

You raise your hand without any hesitation, keen to be the first one to get the answer right. The professor points towards you. “You would do a cover test first.”

“Yes, you could do a cover test first. Is there anyone else with another answer?” Your professor asks the rest of the class whilst you tilt your head in confusion. What other test would you do first apart from cover test?

“You could test their visual acuity.” You hear a familiar voice that never fails to get your blood pressure rising.

“Yes, you could do a visual acuity test first, Zayne.” You shake your head in disbelief. “Y/n, can you explain why you believe that a cover test should be done first?”

You clear your throat, “The results from the cover test would help confirm if the patient actually has a deviated eye or if it could be pseudostrabismus. In the case that the patient did have a deviated eye, it may help with expectations about what their visual acuity could be.”

Your professor nods, her hair bouncing as her head moves. “Zayne? What do you think?”

“Doing a visual acuity test can help with predictions about what you are roughly able to expect in a cover test, predicting which eye is the non-fixing eye. The patient has ADHD and is young, so it may be more beneficial to do the visual acuity test whilst they are cooperative.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Do you have any counterpoints to Zayne's point, Y/n?” You nod, smiley politely in response before staring down the insane maniac across the lecture hall who thinks doing a visual acuity test should be done first.

“It is imperative that you understand if the patient truly has a deviation.” You cross your arms over your chest.

You take a deep breath in, trying to not let Zayne's foolish and idiotic words get the best of you. “If the patient does lose focus and cooperation, you will be able to get a vague estimation of their visual acuity using a photoscreener.”

From across the hall, you notice him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It only makes you straighten your shoulders proudly in victory.

“Alright. I can tell that you are both very passionate about this, however if you do want to continue this, please do so in your spare time. The varied answers suggest that you can do either of the tests first, as long as you have the evidence to back up your point. That ends this lecture today everyone, I will see you next week.”

You shove your laptop into your bag completely leaving behind Simone and Tara, keen on finding the man who enjoys sending you into an academic rage. He stands outside the door to the lecture hall, absentmindedly checking the time on his watch.

“So as a practitioner, you would do the visual acuity test first. Interesting. Definitely a unique way of doing an appointment with a patient.” You say, and he looks up from his shiny watch.

“I didn't explicitly say I would do the visual acuity test first— I was simply answering the professor's question. But if we are assuming that I would do a visual acuity test over a cover test, then yes, I do see the benefits. Using the photoscreener can only get you so far, as it is a vague estimation meaning that the results it produces will not be one hundred percent correct. Just like you mentioned earlier.”

Motherfucker is putting the words into my mouth.

“Why get a vague estimation when you can get reliable results?”

“As long as you get both of the tests done before any other test and the results recorded, nobody is going to ask you which one you decided to do first!” You hear a familiar rushed voice and turning around, you see Tara and Simone who look like they could use a week long holiday.

“Now come on, Y/n! We have another lecture to get to in ten minutes!” Tara says whilst Simone gets a hold of your arm, ready to drag you around campus herself if needed.

“Okay, let me just say one more thing and then we can go.” Tara and Simone look at each other hesitantly before nodding. “Why do you enjoy making my academic life hell?” You ask, causing Zayne to press his lips together.

“Because you enjoy doing the same.” He replies ever so nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world.

Unfortunately, you cannot fathom the fact that he is correct for once, so you bite your tongue whilst Simone proceeds to grab onto your arm and drag you like a doll to the next lecture.

The sound of people discussing their test scores fills the room, with some celebrating and other sighing in their seats. Your hands become damp with sweat and you rub them against the material of your trousers underneath the table.

The professor hands you your test, a smile graced on her face. “Well done, Y/n. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you.” You take the test sheet, looking at the circled 99% at the top of the paper. She walks off, handing the next test to Zayne.

He smiles at her and his warm smile turns dark as he makes eye contact with you. It's filled with nothing but sarcasm and potential to scar an innocent child.

“If you haven't noticed, I gave out the tests from lowest to highest. If anyone has any questions, you can come to my office during office hours or email me. Enjoy your weekend, see you next Monday.” You sit in your seat, staring at the test sheet in denial.

How on earth did you manage to lose to Zayne? By one point?

Sighing, you fold your sheet into half before shoving it into your pocket and heading out the door as inconspicuously as possible.

“L/n.” You roll your eyes, recognising the pride in Zayne's voice instantly. “Getting 98 is an amazing score. You should be very proud of yourself.”

98? Turning around to face his smug face, you quickly glance at the sheet Zayne holds in his hand. 99.

“Actually, I got a 99. I didn't get a 98, Li.” You point to his sheet. “You got a 99 too. You should be very proud of yourself, what a great achievement!” You clasp your hands together, applauding for him.

The smug look on his face disappears, only to be replaced with a feeling you believe to be annoyance. “I see. We both got the highest score on the exam then. What question did you get wrong?” Flicking through the pages, you find the question marked wrong and show him.

“If a patient has nasal corneal reflections, they…” He reads, scanning the paper. “Do not have an esotropia.” He looks up. “They have an exotropia, obviously.”

“Obviously.” You reply, looking over to the side. “I just misread the answers. Now, show me your answers.”

Zayne hands you his paper and you grin when you find the question marked wrong. “Protanopia is caused by not enough energy being transduced or the complete absence of which cone pigment? You answered: M cones.” You laugh, covering it up as a bad cough.

“The answer is L cones. I just also happened to misread the answers too. I believe your mistake was much worse than mine. If a child with a limited attention span only let you do corneal reflections on them and you say they have an esotropia instead of an exotropia, it could cause confusion for other healthcare workers who will see their notes.”

“Yes, of course. If you order the wrong colour correcting glasses for a patient— imagine the distress on their face when they realise their doctor has made a mistake and they have to wait even longer to see full colour vision. Absolutely terrible.” Zayne sighs, taking back his test paper.

“Good thing we are still students, right?” You plaster a fake smile on your face. “We have so much to learn before treating our lovely patients, don't we?”

“Welcome to Akso Hospital!” A grey haired man says cheerfully, a smile adorned on his face.

“I understand that you may have many questions and your consultants will be able to explain without even breaking a sweat.” He chuckles and points to a group of senior doctors standing in front of you.

“When you arrived this morning, you were allocated a number and are now separated into groups. Each group represents a certain speciality, such as psychiatrists, dermatologists and so on. These are the people who you will be training with during your time at Akso, so get on their good side!” You turn around and face your fellow general surgeons, giving them a polite, friendly smile.

You make eye contact with a familiar green, hazel eyed man. Your smile immediately becomes stiff, as if your jaw has automatically clicked into place.

Zayne is in the same group as you. Zayne is going to be training with you.

A tall brown haired woman walks up to your group, smiles and introduces herself as the consultant general surgeon. “I understand that not all of you will be staying as general surgeons, as some of you will branch off into other surgical specialities after you complete your core surgical training. But I look forward to working with each and every one of you.”

You only have one year of this general surgeon training and then you go off into neurosurgery. One year is nothing.

The consultant leads the way to the shared office of all core training general surgeons, and shows important things: the uncomfortable beds you would sleep in during night shifts and the fancy coffee machine. She quickly leaves, letting everyone get to know each other.

You immediately turn around to face Zayne. “I really thought this would be a new chapter where you would not be in it. What are the chances we are both doing this core training together?” A fake smile is plastered on your face.

“Luckily, it’s only for a year since I’ll be going into neurosurgery after the training.”

“Good to know. I’ll be doing cardiac surgery after this year.” You nod, not wanting to contribute more to the extremely lacklustre conversation.

After making your rounds, you decide to spend time with the younger patients. To your surprise, Zayne is there too, busy tending to a stuffed penguin's injured wing.

You sit down on the round tea table where a little girl pours fake tea into her teacups for her plushies. “What’s your name, sweetheart? May I have some tea as well please?” She nods happily, eagerly passing you a teacup whilst introducing herself as Daisy.

You quickly learn she likes strawberries and she's very curious about being a doctor. “Dr L/n, is the brain or heart more important?”

“Well both are very important, but I think the brain is more important than the heart.” You reply and Daisy hums, going back to her teacups. Daisy gives you another teacup of tea but before your hand touches the handle, you hear footsteps making its way to the table.

You look up to the owner of the footsteps, only to see Zayne siting down at the table. “Daisy, can I tell you something?” He asks the little girl who nods in agreement. “Dr L/n is wrong about the brain being more important than the heart. I think that the heart is more important than the brain.”

What on earth is he doing?

“Really, Doctor Li? Why is the heart more important than the brain?” Daisy asks, very intrigued at this new opinion.

“The heart pumps blood to all of the important things in the body, like your lungs and your brain. If the heart doesn't pump your blood to the important places in your body, you’re going to get very tired very quickly.” Zayne says with a smile, specifically targeted at you.

If he wants to play this game, then I’ll fucking play along.

“Then Dr L/n, why do you think that the brain is more important than the heart?” Daisy looks up at you, completely unaware of this emotional tug-of-war she unintentionally created.

“Your brain is very smart Daisy! Your brain is always telling your heart to keep on pumping the blood to the rest of your body so you can stay healthy and strong.” You say, a smile plastered on your face as you look at Zayne.

“Your heart helps you show all the love you have for your friends and family. Do you feel happy when you give friends hugs?” Zayne asks, and Daisy agrees. “It’s your heart that tells you to be happy when you give your friends hugs.”

So he is playing the emotional card. Two can play at this game, Li.

“Daisy?” You call out her name and she averts her gaze to you. “Can you tell me about a fun day you had with your friends?”

“When me and my friends went to the park and we played at the playground all day!” She smiles happily.

“Well sweetheart, your brain remembers all the happy memories you have had with your friends. So whenever you feel sad, you can think about the fun day you had at the park and you will be happy again.” You say and Daisy runs off to find one of her friends.

“I guess the brain is more important than the heart.” You smirk at Zayne and stand up behind the tiny chair, ready to grab a coffee.

“Well if the brain stopped working and the heart kept pumping, at least you would still be alive.” Zayne replies casually, tucking his chair under the table.

“Alive, sure. But living like a normal person? No way in hell.” You say in a hushed tone, not trying to attract attention from the ever-so curious children in the room. “What would you do if you had no brain? You wouldn’t be able to learn about your silly little heart if you didn’t have anywhere to apply the knowledge to in the first place.”

“Well for someone who surely advocates for the brain, you clearly don’t use it enough. Whilst you were doing rounds earlier today, I overheard the consultant asking you why you forgot to bring a notepad along with you. How embarrassing.” He chuckles and you scowl at him.

Just as you were going to answer back, you notice Greyson and Yvonne, two of your fellow surgeons approach you and Zayne.

“Okay that’s enough arguing for the day. The kids are staring.” Yvonne holds your arm, leads you away from Zayne and into the office to calm down.

You sit near the nurses’ station, a cup of coffee nearby as you read the medical history of your next patient arriving in twenty minutes. The atmosphere is peaceful, the nurses are typing away on their keyboards and the sound of baby sensory videos can be heard from the waiting area.

As you bring the cup of coffee up to your lips, a loud voice interrupts the peace. “What do you mean I cannot donate my liver?” You turn around to check where the voice is coming from and see the sign that has Zayne’s name on it.

Muffled speech can be heard from Zayne, most likely trying to calm down an angry family member. The sound of a hand aggressively hitting the desk resonates throughout the floor, causing even the focused children to peel their eyes away from their dancing fruit videos.

The handle of the door opens, revealing a middle aged man who is far from happy. He makes his way over to the nurses station. “Get me another fucking doctor. This guy doesn't know shit. You doctors keep going on about how difficult it is to find a donor that matches but when a matching person comes along, it’s not possible to donate?” The nurses desperately try to calm him down, explaining to him that this is not the place for explicit language.

“Do I look like I’m playing around? I want another doctor!”

“Excuse me sir, what seems to be the problem?” Getting out of your seat, you make your way over to the nurses’ station, gripping onto your white coat like a lifeline.

“This guy told me I couldn't donate my liver to my sister who is on her deathbed!” He angrily points at Zayne who says nothing. “Please doctor, I just want to help her. Tell me I can donate my liver to her.” He pleads, his countenance softening ever so slightly.

“Is there a specific reason he can’t donate his liver?” You look at Zayne.

“He has a liver with a fifteen percent fat content. I have explained to him that the limit is ten percent, as any more can put the recipient at more risk.” Zayne sighs and you frown, immediately knowing that nothing can be done.

“I’m sorry sir, but Doctor Li is right. You may be able to donate in the future but you will have to decrease the fat content through lifestyle choices such as exercise, a balanced diet and refraining from alcohol.”

“All you doctors sound like a broken record! I thought this was the best hospital in the city and you can’t accept my liver? Fucking bullshit.” Over his shoulder, the security comes over and harshly grabs him.

“Let me go!” He tries escaping, only to be pulled away. “Just wait until my lawyer hears about this. I will sue this hospital so badly that the only medicine you will give is paracetamol!” The man shouts even louder until he’s no longer in sight.

You look at Zayne who sighs for the nth time today. “Penny for your thoughts?” He seems like he could need a helping hand, just this once.

“I just find it hard to empathise with people who behave in that manner. I understand that I am fortunate to have not been in a position like that in the past, but when a doctor tells you there is no loophole or way to work around it, isn't it time to face the truth?”

“Well, I think you’re looking at it from a medical personnel perspective. You're trying to face the problem as someone who is only able to give proper solutions. But have you tried facing the problem as someone who could lose a precious family member? You saw the way he softened when he mentioned how all he wanted to do was to help his sister. He just wants to do the best he can.”

“You’re right. Thank you.” Zayne concedes.

“It’s time for my next appointment. See you around.” You nod your head as a goodbye, walking off to your consultation room.

You close the door, setting up your desk for the next patient, trying to make it look presentable after rummaging through the mismatched files when a senior doctor requested an extra copy to read through before surgery.

With all the papers finally stacked into neat piles and tucked away into a corner to worry about later, the door opens with one of the nurses asking if you are ready.

You clear your throat and nod, bringing up the results of the patient as they come in. “Hello, Doctor L/n. It’s nice to see you again.” You look up and smile, making sure that Oliver feels comfortable in the chair.

“How have you been?” You ask, placing your hands on the desk.

“I've been doing well. I have been consistently taking my medication and I try my best to eat and sleep well.”

“That's great news to hear!” You reply, looking at the results on the computer in front of you. “The results from last week's blood results look great too, so there should be nothing to worry about. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I'm quite nervous. Like a kidney transplant is a big thing. I know I'll be in safe hands and all, but I just can't help but feel this sense of anxiety.” Oliver rubs his hands together nervously.

“It is not a minor surgery, that I can tell you with certainty. I can't confirm that everything will go smoothly since surgery is unpredictable but I will be in the room, assisting in the surgery and I will do my absolute best. The road to recovery may not be easy, but once you have fully recovered, the freedom will be like nothing else you have ever felt before.”

“Thank you, Doctor L/n. I trust you.” The words make your heart swell with a strange mix of pride and sadness.

Oliver is the same age as you and it feels like a sick twist of fate knowing that he has endured so much pain yet still does his best to carry on. If you were in the same situation as him, you wouldn't be half as calm and collected as he is.

He constantly brings sweet treats for the staff, ranging from brownies to cupcakes despite it being prohibited to accept any type of gifts from patients. No matter how hard you try to politely decline, Oliver refuses to take no for answer and threatens to stay longer at the hospital.

How could you make a man who spends almost all of his time at the hospital stay even longer? It's pretty unfair to say to other patients that you have favourites, but Oliver is definitely one of them.

“I will do my best to ensure that you trust in me never wavers.” You put on a smile, trying to stay professional despite the feeling of melancholy bloom.

“Considering that the test results look good, there should be no reason to push back the surgery. I will get the paperwork done and ensure that you are admitted for surgery next Monday. Of course, if you have any questions, please feel free to reach out to me or any member of staff.”

Finishing the last consultation of the shift, you close the door behind you and make your way to the shared office, only to see your fellow surgeons crowded near the door.

“Why are you guys all crowded around the door like chipmunks?” They all turn around, facing you as if they have just seen a ghost.

“You scared us! We thought you were someone important, you know, like the hospital director.”

“Geez, that’s nice to know. But you still haven't answered my question.”

“Zayne is listening to what the consultant has to say after the whole liver transplant thing from today.” Greyson says, and you peep through the small window to see him nodding as the consultant continues to talk.

“I need to go in.” You announce to the group whilst they stare at you like you have suggested to do surgery blindfolded.

“No way. Do you want to get yourself into trouble too?” They crowd around the handle of the door, preventing you from going in.

“I was there whilst it happened. Not for the whole thing, but I was the one the patient talked to after they requested another doctor to talk to. I need to hear what the consultant has to say, it’s not just his fault— it’s mine too.” One by one, the group hesitantly disperses.

You knock on the door. “Who is it?” The consultant asks, not taking her eyes off of Zayne.

“It’s Y/n. Can I come in, please?” The door opens in front of you. Zayne stares like a baby deer in headlights whilst you stand opposite the consultant.

“From what I’ve heard, you were also there whilst the patient’s outburst occurred. Can you tell me things from your side of the story?”

You give your side of the story, starting with the shouting in Zayne's room and ending with the threat of suing the hospital, with paracetamol being the only thing that could be administered to patients.

“Well, at least your stories match.” She sighs.

“Wait, before whatever punishment you give us, can I just say something?” You ask and she nods.

“I understand that the patient’s sibling has every right to be frustrated. But it doesn't excuse the fact that he was incredibly rude. Not just to us, but to the other staff too.”

“I’m not mad, you two. You did everything right. You handled it as well as you could have done. Personally, I don't think there should be any consequences. It’s only your second month working in this massive hospital after all. But tensions were high and many patients were scared of what could have happened next. Higher ups have received complaints. There’s a disciplinary meeting scheduled for tonight. I’ll be there as support. I won't let anything bad happen.”

“Thank you, Doctor Zhou.” Zayne says and you thank her too as she leaves the room. “You didn't need to come in, L/n.”

“I know, but it helps clear things up.” You fiddle with the sleeve of your scrubs.

“I could have handled it fine myself but thank you. For everything you’ve done today. You really didn't need to.” He coughs, an awkward air rising in the room.

“Of course. Just because we have some history doesn't mean we can't look out for each other, especially in moments like these.” You smile sheepishly.

The atmosphere becomes even more awkward, this feeling being uncharted territory between you and Zayne.

“Besides, suing the hospital is bad for both of us. I don't think I want to feel the wrath of patients when I tell them they can have paracetamol as their only form of pain relief.” You laugh, trying to deflect this weird feeling in your heart.

Walking out of the conference room, Doctor Zhou catches up with you. “How are you taking the news?”

“It’s a lot better than I thought it would be. Luckily the mandatory seminar about dealing with patient behaviour is only two hours and there’s no pay cut.”

“At least you managed to find the silver lining.” Doctor Zhou chuckles and excuses herself after getting a phone call.

“What about the mandatory shifts for next week?” Zayne asks, and you wince in response.

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to that. Might resort to downing just coffee powder.” You grimace, imagining yourself with dishevelled hair running on half an hour of sleep.

“It’s going to take a lot of self restraint to not shout at you in front of the entire ward when you do something that pushes my buttons.”

“Glad to know that the feeling is mutual.” Zayne bores his eyes into yours before walking away.

With the late hours of the night settling in, so does the orders and requests from other members of hospital staff. You step into the on call room, shrugging off your white coat on one of the chairs.

The door opens with your fellow colleagues ready to take a quick but very much needed nap. You slip off your shoes in front of one of the lower bed bunks and remove your hair clip.

“Doctor L/n. I'm really sorry but may I sleep on the bottom bunk?” You glance back to see Zayne, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry Doctor Li, but no. It feels like all of the life has been drained out of me by an energy seeking vampire. I quite literally do not have the body strength to climb the flimsy ladder up to the top bunk.”

“I understand that, but I think it would be best if I was to sleep on the bottom bunk. It's more convenient, I am taller and the lower bunk is longer— I can fully extend my legs only on the bottom bunk.” But before you can even open your mouth, he continues. “I have spent more time of this shift on my feet than you have, Doctor L/n.”

“I refuse to believe that, Doctor Li.” You hiss. “I'm sorry that you believe that you are more entitled to the bottom bunk, but I was assisting in a seven hour surgery this morning. I didn't even have the luxury to have my lunch, I was called into another surgery before I could even sit my ass down on a chair. Mind you, it's eleven in the evening so the last time I have put food in my system was over twelve hours ago.” You point to the ladder, gesturing for him to climb up it.

“You may have been assisting in multiple surgeries, but I had go over two dozen patient appointments today. Not to mention, I was tasked with fixing your patient charts because of how unorganised they were. So yes, I do believe I am entitled to the bottom bunk.” You roll your eyes, but with little reaction from Zayne due to the dim lighting in the room.

So what? He's been sat on a chair whilst you have been standing for hours on end. “I will sleep on the top bunk. Now please, save your voices. Fight each other at another time for all I care, go get some sleep.” A groggy voice complains.

Greyson hobbles out of bed and quietly murmurs about how you can both sleep on the bottom bunk before climbing up the ladder.

You quickly slot yourself between the gap of the bottom bunk, laying down on the bed as your back finally relaxes and the sound of Zayne sighing brings a tired grin on your face as he walks to the other bottom bunk bed.

“Eat.” You remove your hands from your head to see Zayne, tossing a sad sandwich on the table.

Having finished assisting in Oliver's surgery which lasted an extra two hours because of a complication, you don't have the energy to complain about how you don't even like mustard, gnawing at the sandwich.

You swallow dryly, the food passing through you like worn out sandpaper. “Why did you give me this?” You ask Zayne, who tears his tired gaze from his equally sad excuse of a sandwich.

“Everyone in the operating room could hear your stomach even when the suction was being used. You need to eat.” He says and you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in response.

You eat your sandwich, staring out of the window.

This is a first. For someone who was extremely determined to get the bottom bunk, it's like being with a completely different person. You always hear him going off on patient's about how important it is to eat well so that they have a faster recovery.

How strange.

Attending rounds whilst half asleep should be illegal. But you don't have a say in the rules, so you begrudgingly follow the rest of the surgical trainees as Doctor Zhou leads the rounds for the morning.

You have nobody but your phone to blame, the alarm on the stupid thing only went off twenty minutes before you had to arrive to the hospital. That and adding not having your daily cup of coffee to keep you functioning like a normal human, your eyes only get more droopier as the patients drift off into a silence to think about their pain levels.

The cases are quite easy to understand, so the only hard thing should be staying awake. “Doctor L/n, can you tell me anything you notice about this patient?” You barely recognise your name. feeling a slight nudge against your lower arm which jolts you awake.

Quickly scanning the room, you notice the relatively fast heartbeat on the monitor. “The patient has a heart rate of 120 beats per minute with an abnormal P wave following each QRS complex.”

“Yes, correct. Can you tell me exactly what kind of tachycardia this is?” She nods, ticking off something on her clipboard.

Your mind goes blank. Looking back to the monitor, you scan the screen in hopes it jogs your memory. What type of tachycardia? This is a question even a medical student can answer!

The hushed sound of scribbling against a notepad next to you is nothing but distracting. You feel another tap against your lower arm, and realise it's Zayne. He subtly brings the piece of paper towards you, and you read the words.

“Focal atrial tachycardia.” You answer and Doctor Zhou nods, moving on to thank the patient for their time and end the long hour of rounding.

Walking back to the break room, you immediately head to the table and grab a mocha pod to put into the coffee machine. Walking to the cupboard to get your mug, you notice Zayne fixing his sleeves in the mirror.

You should thank him for saving you out there. But you hesitate. Perhaps when not as many people are around.

Grabbing your mug, you close the cupboard door and walk to the coffee machine, placing your mug down as you insert the pod into the machine. The machine buzzes to life, pouring in the frothy liquid ever so slowly.

Zayne still stands in front of the mirror but your feet are unwilling to move. Every single cell inside of you is screaming to walk up to him. You walk up to him, thank him for saving you and walk back, simple. So why the hesitation?

The sound of the machine beeping brings you out of your trance and you turn off the machine before bringing the cup of coffee up to your lips.

Looking up, Zayne disappears. The usual sweet taste of the chocolate and coffee now tastes bitter, burning on your tongue. Perhaps another time.

“Come with me to the cafeteria.” You hear a tired voice ask beside you.

“Sure.” You get out of your seat, grabbing your white coat. Zayne walks slowly, purposely waiting for you before you both leave the office in silence. “So… why ask me to come to the cafeteria with you?”

“Am I not allowed to ask my fellow colleague to eat dinner with me?” Zayne looks at you and you both step foot into the cafeteria.

“No— this week has been an absolute whirlwind: running on energy drinks and three hours of sleep is not normal. I think I have the right to ask if I am sane or hallucinating.” The staff places two scoops of rice into your plate and you smile as a quiet thank you.

“Well, we only have two more shifts left this week. Hopefully we survive.” Another member of staff places some vegetables and meat alongside your rice and you move down the line.

“As long as nobody has a cardiac arrest of some sort, then I think we will be okay.” You walk off to the dessert area to get a cupcake with Zayne in tow.

“How were you not stopped by some member of staff for all the desserts on your plate?” You look at Zayne’s plate holding a cupcake and strategically placed macarons to ensure none go tumbling off his plate.

“Confidence.” He shrugs. “Do you happen to be the dessert police in disguise?”

“I will call them over if you don’t let me have one of your macarons. Where did you even find them?” You threaten jokingly.

“Over by the end of the counter. Nobody stops by the end of the counter because it stops the line from moving and everyone is hungry enough as is.” Zayne pushes his small dessert plate in front of you and gestures for you to take one.

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually letting me have one of your precious macarons?” You gasp.

“Why are you reacting as if I have announced I will be participating in the Olympics for the ice skating division?”

“It’s just unexpected. Everyone knows how much you love desserts.” You slowly take one of the macarons and place it next to your cupcake.

“You’re acting like I despise you.” Zayne shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth, acting like he hasn’t just set your brain into a spiral.

He is acting less hostile, in a sense. Maybe he actually doesn't despise me as much in comparison to medical school.

“I’m guessing from your confused expression that you’re wondering why I seem to tolerate being around you.”

“Are you a mind reader? Did you perhaps manage to evolve your evol into brain related functions too?” You exclaim, feeling somewhat exposed by his analysis.

“Unfortunately, no. How do you manage to make everything about the brain? You definitely chose the right speciality.” He questions and you continue to stare at him.

“Let’s backtrack a bit, mister cardiac surgeon-to-be. When did you suddenly get the ability to tolerate me?” You place your hands in front of him, clearly taken aback.

“When you asked me how I was feeling after the patient interaction on the liver transplant. I was just expecting you to just brush it off or question why he got into such a rowdy mood but you didn’t— you just listened.”

“I guess that was quite nice of me.” You pick at the food on your plate. “You know, it's definitely a lot easier to be around you and tolerate your presence.” Zayne tilts his head, confused.

“I guess you softened me up. I think it happened when you started offering me sandwiches. I hear you constantly nag at patients for not eating well because you just want the best for them. But that doesn't mean that all of the hate is gone, it’s a lot to go from hating each other's guts to acting somewhat civil with each other. This doesn't stop me from calling you an idiot whenever you deserve to be called one.”

“Noted. Now keep eating, your food is going to get cold.”

For what is probably the hundredth time this week, you read through another patient chart, making annotations of things to ask during the consultation on your worn-out notepad.

The last few hours of this horrendous one week shift finally approaches. But in true hospital fashion, the emergency button goes off and the nurses rush into the room, with you following close behind. Nurses quickly convince the family to leave, despite their loud pleas and cries to stay.

You turn to face the critical patient, ready to assess what the next step of action is but stop in your tracks. Oliver.

The feeling of dizziness suddenly overwhelms you, locking you in an unwelcoming hug that you can't seem to shake out of. You feel your knees buckle slightly, steadying yourself against some random piece of equipment.

It feels like the oxygen in the room and your lungs is quickly depleting, leaving you lightheaded and breathless. In a strong state of denial, you trying to snap yourself out of this state of helplessness, staggering to Oliver's bed.

Words come out of your mouth— probably some kind of weak attempt to bark orders at the nurses but they look at you in despair and confusion. “He's having a seizure. Can someone get me some lorezapam please?” A voice shouts out, slightly bringing you out of your daze.

The sound of loud rustling can be heard and you watch as the figure administer the drug. “Doctor L/n, can you hear me?” A warm hand is placed on the side of your upper arm and you muster up the strength to look up. Zayne. “Doctor L/n, Oliver needs you. I can't do this alone.” Flickering your eyes up at him, you notice the worry etched into his eyebrows.

But you don't have time to worry about it, especially not now. As if a switch was turned on, you snap out of your hazy state. “Remove anything tight that might restrict him.” The nurses nod and you hastily remove the blanket covering his body.

“Oliver, this is Doctor L/n. I'm here. You're at Akso Hospital and you're safe.” Oliver's movements stop shortly after, the lorezapam quickly going into effect.

You slowly get him into the recovery position and he slowly opens his eyes, blinking at you. He's okay. After going through the necessary checks post seizure, you leave the room and your back hits the wall. A stray tear escapes out of your eye and you hastily dab the ends of your sleeve to hide the wetness rolling down your cheek.

“This is all my fault.” You mutter under your breath.

“No it's not.” Shocked that someone heard your moment of self depreciation, your eyes flicker to the owner of the voice. “You did your best.”

“Even if it's not my fault, I lied to Oliver. I told him that I would do my best. What I did back in there was not my best. Look at him now.” You glance into Oliver's room, one of the nurses accompanying him for the night.

“I know that Oliver is more than thankful for you. He knows that you care deeply for him as a patient and I'm sure that when he recovers, he will greet you with a smile.” Zayne says, looking through the glass of Oliver's room.

“You saw what I did out there whilst he was having a seizure. What kind of doctor has a massive breakdown whilst their patient could be knocking on death's door? You aren't always going to be there whilst I have another breakdown in front of another patient. Imagine what could happen? It won't be anyone else's fault but mine.”

“This isn't permanent. You will eventually find a way to confront this fear of yours and only then will you be able to forgive yourself.” Zayne says and you don't even have the strength to look him the eyes, only blankly staring at his worn out shoes.

“How about we go to the break room? We don't need to talk about it but it would be good to at least sit down.” You nod, standing up straight as you lift yourself off the wall and walk to the room with your head down.

Making it to the break room, you sit down on a random chair and sit back. Zayne opens the mini fridge and places your water bottle onto the desk in front of you. Not having the strength to speak, you give him a slight nod before drinking from the straw. The cold water quenches a hidden thirst and you feel your lost will to live slowly come back.

After a much deserved rest of four days, the ability to function like a normal human being has returned. Tasks that felt extremely monotone during the seven days of night shift in a row now had meaning to them and were much more enjoyable to do.

You pull back the changing curtain, smoothing out the faint creases on your scrubs. Zayne stands beside the table, removing his watch. “Here.” Zayne passes you an iced coffee.

“Thanks.” You take the coffee from him, before fixing your messy hair in the mirror.

“No sassy remark?” You turn your head to see a confused Zayne. “Not even a question asking why I decided to give you a coffee?”

“Maybe it will come back to me after I finish fixing my hair. Do you want me to ask why you decided to randomly bring me a coffee?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No. But I definitely was expecting a more sarcastic response.” He grabs his notebook. “I’ll see you later.”

During the brief encounter you had with one of the nurses, you find out that Oliver has rapidly improved after the incident on the last day of your torturous one week shift.

With twenty minutes left before the first appointment of the day, you make your way to his room. Knocking on the door, you hear a soft “come in,” from Oliver and you twist the handle. There sits Oliver, propped up on a pillow as the television plays quietly in the background. He looks at you and a smile graces his lips.

“Doctor L/n. I'm really sorry for scaring everyone with my seizure a few days ago. Before you say anything else, I just want to say that I am really thankful for everyone, especially you. I know that you went through a lot last week and I don't want you to think about any of those feel bad thoughts that might be troubling you.” You feel the tension dissipate from your body as you finally find a sense of closure.

“Thank you for recovering Oliver.” You smile and your gaze drifts to the clock above his bed. “I don't have much time left before I have to leave, but is there anything that I can get you before I go?”

“It's a bit cold, would it be possible to get another blanket?” You nod, excusing yourself before heading to the storage closet.

Pushing the door of the storage closet open, a familiar set of shoulders greets you as you step inside. The storage closet is extremely small, the space is just about enough to fit one person.

Having two people is practically invading personal space.

“You could have just waited outside like everyone else does when they see someone in here.” Zayne's voice breaks the sound of equipment being rummaged through.

So much for mood swings, he was somewhat bearable about five minutes ago.

“I could have. But you know very well by now that I enjoy bringing you misery. Could you pass me a blanket whilst you're at it?” You grin. Zayne sighs, but opens up a box and hands you the blanket before going back to retrieving whatever he needed.

“This is one of the small blankets, could you get me a medium or a large one instead?”

“Do you see me as some kind of butler? You are very capable of getting it yourself.” He looks behind his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed.

“So you do see me as capable! Only took you about six years to recognise it.” You place a hand on your chest, pretending to feel touched by his sarcastic compliment.

Feeling very pleased with yourself, you scooch past him, replacing the small blanket for a large one. You squeeze past him, ready to stretch your limbs freely again.

“So much for having a civil relationship.” Zayne mutters under his breath, but the proximity between you allows you to easily hear him. “This is not how acquaintances act around each other.” He pulls out a small plastic box and turns around, bumping into you.

You say nothing, suddenly realising how little space there is between you and Zayne. You don't think you have ever gotten this close to someone since your relationships in college. Maybe it's the unwelcoming memories of things that you have done with someone this close, but you feel your heart rate begin to quicken.

“So you consider us to be acquaintances?”

“I would assume so, especially since we have agreed to be civil with each other. Not exactly friendly acquaintances but acquaintances nonetheless.” Your grip on the blanket tightens ever so slightly.

“Does this mean my acquaintance will allow me to leave this prison cell of a storage room?” You tilt your head up at him.

“Of course.” He shuffles awkwardly, almost lying flat against the shelves. You don't spare him another glance and open the door, heading to Oliver's room.

“Here's your blanket.” You pass Oliver the soft material.

“Sorry for the wait, it took me a while to actually find one in the right size.”

“Thank you, Doctor L/n.” He unfolds the blanket. “Are you okay, by the way? Your face looks a bit flushed.”

Within the second month of settling in to the hospital, you are immediately seen as experienced. You absolutely beg to differ, considering how you only recently discovered that the television screen in the reception area could actually display something other than the news.

However, that doesn't stop one of the first year medical students from following you around the ward like you are their mother duck— they have essentially imprinted on you. With this built up trust, they confidently ask you to sign off their competency forms.

You smile and sit down next to the desk, grabbing a pen. "Thank you so much for signing these forms, Doctor L/n. You are single handedly saving me from getting scolded by my clinical tutor.” He sighs, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“No problem, I remember feeling the exact same way when I first started placements.” You chuckle, signing off the date and your signature at the bottom of the paper.

“Were the wards always this quiet when you first started off? I feel like it hasn't been very busy today.” He innocently asks.

Your grip on the pen tightens, and you slowly exhale all the breath in your lungs. “Not always. But it will become busy very soon." The innocent medical student tilts his head in confusion.

“How do you know, Doctor L/n?”

“Whenever someone mentions how quiet the ward is, emergencies happen within the next five minutes.” You see the colour drain from the his face. “Don't worry, just make sure to not make the same mistake for next time and prepare yourself for the chaos.” You pat his shoulder and leave his forms on the table.

Walking up to the reception, you hear the sound of rapid footsteps to one of the patient rooms and you immediately follow the sound. As soon as you enter, you see Doctor Zhou removing her white coat and you quickly realise the patient is going into a cardiac arrest.

Greyson and Zayne rush in, with Zayne standing next to you and you impatiently await Doctor Zhou's instructions. “The two closest to the door grab the crash cart and anyone else who is left, switch compressions on the patient with me after two minutes.” Doctor Zhou instructs and you quickly assess your position in the room, realising you and Zayne are closest to the door.

Without wasting a second, you rush out of the door and into the hallway with Zayne following behind. The crash cart that usually sits at the nurses' station is nowhere to be seen, explaining why there is nobody else helping out in the room— another emergency is occurring elsewhere in the ward.

“Doctor Li, we need to go to the ICU, the crash cart is being used elsewhere.” You say and he nods, leading the way.

Your mind is on auto pilot, frantically making your way to the ICU in hopes that there's an available crash cart somewhere. Zayne uses his longer legs to his advantage and you see him conversing with one of the nurses find the crash cart.

“Doctor L/n, on your right!” He shouts, breaking the silence of the peaceful department.

Turning right, you notice the white and blue cart instantly. You push on it, and it rolls on its wheels. Zayne comes into your vision and stands next to you, making carrying the weight of the heavy piece of equipment much faster.

“Let's go.” You announce and Zayne nods, pushing the cart out of the ICU hallway.

The journey from the ICU to the general surgery department feels extremely long, despite it being the closest department to the one you have essentially made a home in. Pushing it is honestly not much of a problem, the only problem on your mind is the patient and your hopes of them making a rapid recovery.

You feel something cold on the back of your hand and immediately know it's not you, especially with your body sweating from the stress and your uncomfortable, thick white coat. Probably just a piece of equipment sticking out of the drawers.

You quickly look down and register the 'cold something' as Zayne's hand. You grasp onto the side of the cart tighter and look up to only make accidental eye contact with Zayne. Right about now, you would have said something along the lines of 'get your icicle hands off me' but it clearly is not the time, especially when the patient's room is in sight.

You suck up the comment practically begging to spill from your lips, it causing your heart to beat wild enough to the point where it could end with you being a receiving the treatment.

But the feeling of his hand on top of yours is actually kind of nice — definitely not in a way that would get teenage girls screaming. It's just a very weirdly comforting ice pack. His eyes never stray from yours, only giving you a short nod— probably as a way of letting you know he's there and you don't need to worry.

As nice as it is to have eye contact with Zayne that is not just side eyes and snares, you cough awkwardly, averting your eyes in front of you to prevent the cart from crashing into a poor passerby.

Manoeuvring the cart into the room, you notice the tired expressions on Greyson's and Doctor Zhou's faces. “Sorry we took so long, the cart was in the ICU. I'll take over doing compressions!” You stand by the patient's bedside, rolling up your sleeves.

With the rest of the emergency passing in a blink of an eye, you make your way to the on call room. Flopping down on the spinny chair, you open a water bottle and the door opens with Zayne making his way inside.

“I think Oliver recovering has given me closure— I didn't freak out and handled the situation calmly! I even volunteered to do compressions before you, everyone knows how keen you are to be the first one to help!” You smile widely.

“Seeing Oliver recovered has definitely improved your confidence. I'm glad you aren't afraid to jump into action anymore.” He says and you nod with a mouthful of water.

Considering your newly established relationship with Zayne as acquaintances, you expected a more meaningful reaction from him. Despite him being a man of not very much to say in the first place, you should feel thankful that you have even made it as far as him offering you one of his precious macarons a few months ago.

But you can't help but feel like you need something more from him. Perhaps something along the lines of 'I'm proud,' or 'This is only the beginning of good things,' but considering the fact that it is Zayne, maybe this is as far as it will go.

It quite honestly doesn't make any sense— why is there a sudden need to be validated and noticed by him?

You sit in the conference room, daydreaming about what you should order for dinner when you get home after work.

The topic of internet safety is incredibly boring and the guy from IT didn't even bother making the presentation slides colourful. It's pretty much common sense (there's probably an old consultant somewhere learning what an incognito tab is) and your mind is incredibly under-stimulated.

Letting out a silent sigh, you give your eyes a break from the colourless presentation slides and stare out the window. The view isn't very appealing either: thick, tamed black hair covers your view of the trees below. Sparing a glance at the owner of said hair, you soon realise it is Zayne.

Keen on wasting even more time, your mind wanders off to problems that you have experienced since starting work at Akso. The lack of fluffy pillows in the break room to sleep on, Zayne picking a fight with you in front of poor Daisy, the terrible one week on call shift you had with Zayne, your sudden need to have Zayne act more cheerful around you— fuck.

Why are you so caught up about Zayne in the first place? Why do you want him to act more like a human rather than a programmed robot? It was not much this much a problem in medical school, so what on earth is causing you to feel this way?

Is it the weird period of transitioning into the working world? It might be, it takes everyone different amounts of time to settle into a hospital as big as Akso. Maybe you just need more time to get to grips with the place.

It definitely is, nothing else.

After what feels like ten minutes, you blink slowly in hopes to catch up on micro amounts of sleep that you missed out on last night. During the short period of letting your eyes rest, your mind once again drifts off thinking anything other than this useless presentation.

The sound of papers rustling brings your head out of the clouds and your vision hones in on Zayne looking straight back at you. Shit. Have you been unconsciously looking at him the entire time? You blink a few times, hoping it's just a figure of your imagination, but his eyes continue to stare into yours.

Faking a smile, you pick up your pen and fiercely make notes, writing 'what the fuck did he just catch me???'. Hesitantly, you slowly lift up your head to check if he has decided to save your dignity and look anywhere else but you.

You freeze, realising Zayne's piercing eyes are still locked in on you. The room grows more stuffy by the second, and the heat spreads to your cheeks. Coughing awkwardly, you finally pay attention to the presentation only to find out that the IT guy is thanking everyone for listening.

Grabbing your pen and notepad, you rush out of the room before Yvonne— or even worse, Zayne himself— asks why you are in such a hurry to leave.

Walking up to the hospital entrance, the wind brushes past your shoulders and almost knocks you off balance.

It acts a quiet reminder of how it life at the hospital has been boring to say the least, as this has single handedly been the most exciting thing that has happened all week. No new hospital drama, not even a good show to watch on the reception television when appointments slow down during the day.

Sighing at the lack of gossip, you can only drag your feet along the floors to the general surgery department, hoping that somewhere the drama will start picking up again. The handover from the night shift team remains the same as normal: boring.

Based on the blank expression on Yvonne's face, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how she is feeling. Not even as the handover ends does her expression brighten up in the slightest, her eyes boring holes into the patient files. You can only sigh when the night shift team leaves.

The morale in the room is non existent. Something good has to happen today, and it can't be a patient dancing the macarena on the tables whilst naked.

The end of the shift is in sight, and the break room is silent. Everyone is clearly ready to go home, and you countdown the mere minutes on the clock until you are no longer legally bound to stay at the hospital. Time goes by extremely slowly, checking the clock when you think the shift is officially over, only it to not even change the position of the minute hand.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back catches your attention, and Zayne walks out. His grey long coat only extends his tall figure, matching well with the silver rimmed glasses he wears.

He actually looks good. Not as in a presentable outfit kind of good, but Zayne himself looks good.

There should be no reason for you to be thinking about him in this way. It's just Zayne. It's just because he is wearing something that isn't the weird fitting green scrubs which brings out his eyes that makes him look good.

You blink multiple times, hoping that after twenty blinks he goes back to looking the way he usually does. But he never does. If anything, the excessive blinking relieves your dry eyes and it doesn't hurt to look at him anymore.

It was never about the transition from medical school to working as a doctor. It was never about the stupid scrubs that you associated with work. You have settled into the hospital well, especially with how you went out for drinks with Yvonne last week.

The realisation dawns on you, and you press your nails into your skin trying anything to wake up from the reality. You feel your heart pound against your chest and you assess. There is quite literally nothing else that could cause it to race— you are sat on a chair and there isn't an emergency happening.

It's Zayne. Somewhere along the way, you developed these stupid romantic feelings for him.

The hospital drama you so desperately wanted? It's you.

The next few days pass by in a blur, with your schedule filled up with regular appointments and the occasional emergency, life has been on autopilot.

But with Yvonne rushing into the break room the brightest you have seen her smile since last week, you know something interesting has happened.

“Did you hear? The hospital's twentieth year anniversary is this Friday, so the hospital director is treating Akso staff to the new fancy barbecue restaurant everyone online raves about!” Yvonne spins around in her chair in pure childlike happiness. “I finally get to see the hidden couples of other departments! The hospital drama drought will come to an end!”

“That sounds great! I can't wait to have something interesting to talk about other than the sad selection of crisps from the vending machine.” You chuckle, swallowing nervously as you realise your secret may come out quicker than expected.

“I'm so excited to see the stolen glances from people when they think someone isn't watching! I love watching the tension build up.” She closes her eyes happily, sighing happily.

You definitely won't be the centre of attention, there should be absolutely no reason to worry at all. Eat, laugh at some stupid joke and don't look at Zayne. Simple.

Sitting in the barbecue place for the event, you take in your surroundings, watching as people would be more than happy to chat the rest of the night away. Your gaze drifts to the nephrology department, as you notice the hidden glances between a couple who definitely cannot be any more obvious.

You can only hope that your eyes don't betray your crumbling will to continue being acquaintances with the man sitting opposite you. The sharp tapping of a wine glass breaks the silence.

“Everyone can I have your attention please?” Heads turn and you watch as the hospital director smiles brightly.

“As much as I enjoy watching the different departments together, it is time for a competition. A group quiz! The winning department of the quiz gets a massage chair for all your relaxing needs!” Loud murmurs and hushed conversations immediately start, with people happily imagining themselves sat in the massage chair during a short break.

Whiteboards are quickly passed around the room, with Doctor Zhou being nominated as the team's scribe. “First question, an extremely easy one. What anniversary is Akso currently celebrating on this fine evening?” The hospital director doesn't even finish his first question, and '20 years' is written on the whiteboard.

“Alright, boards up! Okay, all teams get a point!” The crowd cheers as someone notes down the scores on a piece of paper. “Next question, how many times does the average person blink in a day? The exact or the closest answer wins the point!” Everyone huddles around in a circle, keen on discussing their thoughts.

“I think about ten thousand times a day.” Greyson speaks in a hushed tone. Everyone nods in some form of agreement.

“It's about fifteen thousand times a day, actually.” You say, causing everyone to blink silently at you as the gears in their head try to calculate. “I memorised a fact book about weird trivia facts when I was about eight and it hasn't proven me wrong since.”

“Of course, as expected.” A once irritating voice speaks up and you roll your eyes in order to not cause a scene.

“I trust Y/n!” Yvonne raises her arm up, looking around the table to see who would join her. Soon enough, most of the table has their hands raised. Doctor Zhou hums, writing down your answer on the whiteboard.

“Time is up, show me your answers!” He shouts, scanning through the answers written, until his jaw drops. “We have an exact answer everyone!” He points to your table, causing everyone to shake your shoulders happily. “The answer was fifteen thousand times.” The crowd sighs.

“Next question, what is the average speed of a human sneeze in miles per hour?” The other tables suddenly get deep into conversation.

“How about we all say an answer at the same time? I know Y/n probably knows the answer, but this makes it more fun since we will just be sitting in silence as we wait to see if the answer is right.” Yvonne suggests, and everyone around the table nods in agreement.

“How about we all say our answers on the count of three? One, two… three!”

“Fifty miles an hour!”

“Eighty five miles an hour!”

“Seventy three and a half miles an hour!”

“Over one hundred miles an hour.” You say, and your voice somehow sounds like it dropped a whole octave. Looking to the source of your supposed low voice, you feel the colour rush to your face. There should not even be a rational reason to feeling a weird a sense of embarrassment.

Of course, Zayne manages to say the exact same answer as you at the exact same time. It shouldn't even be a surprise, he is a literal doctor and just happens to have a good memory too. He is extremely smart, he probably memorised the exact same trivia book that you did.

“Y/n?” A hand taps your arm. “Did you hear the question?” Yvonne stares at you, a hint of concern written on her face.

“Huh?” You look to her. “Did we get the question right?”

“Yes we did, thanks to you and Zayne!” She chirps happily. “The question was 'where does the term muscle come from?' and include the language of origin too.”

“Little mouse in Latin.” Twiddling your fingers, you try to take interest in the plain colour of your nails but eventually fail. Looking to the person who has your head utterly and completely messed up, you eye the bottle of expensive wine sitting in the middle of the table.

It might as well be easier to spend the rest of the night slightly tipsy and having your feelings spiral rather than just be a human void who can only think about the complications of falling for Zayne.

Huffing, you grab the glass bottle and pour a good amount into your wine glass, admiring the deep red hue before downing it in one quick gulp. You pick up the bottle again, pouring another into your glass whilst everyone keenly watches.

“Slow down, you can't have all the fun without us! Let us have some before you drink your way through to victory, Y/n.” Yvonne whistles, extending her glass in front of you as she waits for you to pour her some.

This sets off a chain reaction of everyone else on the table, grinning from ear to ear as they wait for you to pour the wine into their glass. They happily savour the drink, discussing about the different fruits that they taste as they swirl the liquid.

Almost coming full circle on the table, you stop at Zayne. “Don't you want some?” You ask, displaying the fancy label for him to look at whilst you tilt your head at him.

“No thank you. I am not well suited for drinking.”

“I will drink this in your stead, Doctor Li.” You raise your glass, clinking it with his empty one. “If you don't hear from me on our next shift, it's because I have lost my phone and don't know how to get home.” You smile, remembering your college days as you drink the whole thing in one go.

Zayne just looks at you with a concerned look on his face. “Next question!” The sound of the microphone seems much louder, a clear tell tale sign the alcohol is kicking in. “What is my favourite colour?” He chuckles, enjoying the confused looks on everyone's faces at the new question.

The room goes into frenzy, everyone naming all the colours that they can think of at the top of their head whilst you quietly sing the rainbow song as you forget what colours exist. “Blue!” You lean over the table, pointing to the director's tie. “He always wears a blue tie.”

“Yes, Y/n. But right now, he's wearing a green tie.” Yvonne coos, making sure you sit back down on your chair. Looking over to the director, you focus your eyes and finally see his green tie. You see a smirk on Zayne's face.

“Hey, I'm trying!” Yvonne only pats your shoulder comfortingly to calm your increasing anger which causes your eyes to droop.

“Final question, what fruit does a human share sixty percent of its DNA with?”

“Banana. Yellow fuzzy bananas.” Your mouth opens before your eyes do, seeing the bright lights invade your vision.

“You're drunk, Y/n.” Yvonne announces, taking your wine glass away from you. “Drink up!” She hands you a glass with transparent liquid in it.

“Nope, I don't want water! I want more yummy wine.” You shake your head, pushing the glass of water away from you.

“We both know that's not going to be happening.” She deadpans, putting the water into your hands. “At least take a little sip for me, please?” You use both hands to steady the cup, washing down the taste of the sweet berries.

“We have a winning team, everyone! The winning team is…” The director trails off, leaving everyone in suspense.

“The general surgery team! Congratulations, the massage chair will be arriving on Monday. Thank you everyone for coming to Akso's twentieth anniversary dinner, get home safe!” You cheer, nursing your empty wine glass as you pick up some crackers, watching as everyone collects their belongings.

“Where do you live, Y/n? I want you home safe and in one piece, please.” Yvonne, your shining knight in armour asks.

“Near the hospital, near the park with the cool exercise machines.” You grin, clumsily shoving a cracker into your mouth as Yvonne sighs and Doctor Zhou nods.

“Does anyone live near the big park with the fountains and is able to take Y/n home, please?” Doctor Zhou turns around, facing the rest of the general surgery team.

You sit in your chair, watching as people shake their heads on in response. Grabbing your phone, you tap on the screen in attempts to book a taxi, only to be locked out after the fifth attempt.

“I live close by.” A voice that makes you want to hide in a hole for the rest of eternity speaks up, and you immediately shake your head childishly.

“I can make it home by myself! I am more than capable.” You stand up, gripping onto the back of the chair for dear life as the world spins.

“Zayne is going to take you home, Y/n. I'll see you on Sunday, okay?” Yvonne waves you goodbye before facing the man beside you. “Take care of her for me please. Good luck, she seems like she is going to be a bit of a handful.”

You walk with your head down, trying to walk as sober as possible as you can to avoid the awkward walk home with the man who has been taking up every inch of your thoughts.

“You're going to fall if you continue to walk like that, L/n.” Turning around, you glance back at him and only look at him before huffing and turning back around to leave the restaurant.

Walking past the restaurant entrance, you immediately make a left turn and observe the glass reflection to see if Zayne is still following you. He walks briskly, holding on to your bag as he fixes his glasses. You stop in your tracks, allowing Zayne to catch up with you.

Once he stands in front of you, you grab the bag from him and try to walk, only to find yourself stuck in the same place as he holds a gentle grip around your wrist.

“I understand you want to go home alone, but I need to ensure you get home safely, L/n. Please stop trying to run away from me.” You stick your tongue at him, but he still doesn't let go of you. “Didn't you tell me that I might not hear back from you if you get too drunk?”

“And why do you care if I make it home back safe or not, Li?” You retort back sassily, putting your hand on your waist for extra effect.

“I told everyone that I would escort you home, so I must stick to my words. Nobody was going in the same direction as you, and I have little trust in taxi drivers at such a late time. Despite living in the opposite direction, I need to make sure you attend the next shift.” He stays silent. “As acquaintances, of course.”

“Hm.” Zayne removes his grip on you, allowing you to move freely.

Putting one foot in front of the other, you allow Zayne to walk you home. “You are like fuzzy cheese.”

“I wonder if you will be able to tell me the same thing sober, L/n.” Ignoring him, you continue with your new profound discovery.

“Whenever people look at fuzzy cheese, they just go 'ew' and move on. But if you actually know about fuzzy cheese, you can just remove the exterior and enjoy the insides.”

“I was not expecting to be likened to fuzzy cheese, but thank you for your wonderful analogy.”

“Your coat is fuzzy too.” Grazing your hand past his coat, you feel the material and scrunch your nose up in disgust.

“Look at the park! Isn't it pretty? I could dive into the fountain to cool down, don't you think?”

“You are not doing that.” He grabs the material of your trench coat, ready to pull you back if you jump in.

“Awww.” You look down to the ground, kicking your feet sadly. Zayne sighs, letting go of your coat. You nod at him, blinking slowly as you point to the fountain in child- like joy. “Can we go look at the fountain please?” Looking up at him, you clasp your hands together and put on your best puppy face.

“As long as you promise to go home right after this, L/n.” You put a hand over your heart, agreeing with his statement. “I suppose we can go.”

Running towards the fountain, you pant from the heaviness of the trench coat and the alcohol severely reducing your ability to function properly.

Looking behind you, Zayne chases after you with wide eyes at your sudden exit. “It's so hot.” You wipe sweat off your forehead, fanning yourself with your hands. “Take this,” You hand him your bag.

“Wouldn't you like to take off your—” You jump into the fountain, splashing happily as the coldness of the water hits your face. “—coat.” Smiling at Zayne, you can't tell if he's angry, disappointed or intrigued by your behaviour as he places your bag onto his broad shoulders.

“Let's get you up, hm?” He places a hand in front of you, waiting for you to take it.

“You're warm. This is cold.” Gesturing towards the water, you scoop a handful of water into your hands, watching it trickle down your arms as it slips through the gaps in your hands.

“I find it hard to believe that the one time you call me a warm person is whilst you are completely inebriated and splashing around in a water fountain. Don't you want to go home and get some sleep?” He asks, and you close your eyes shaking your head, whispering 'no no no' under your breath.

Zayne sighs for the billionth time this night. “You leave me with no choice.” Getting into the fountain, he makes sure to not get your bag wet as he crouches down, picking you up and carrying you into his arms.

“Hehe, this is fun!” You giggle, lifting one arm up in the air to touch his cheeks.

“We have very different ideas of fun.” Stepping out of the fountain, the sound of water from his trousers hitting the concrete makes you giggle even more.

“You are going to have a terrible morning when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Hm? Why? I feel great now! Look!” Your wet hands pulling down on his chin, forcing him to stop walking and make eye contact with him.

The atmosphere changes. Zayne doesn't say anything, his lips slightly parted as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. Running your free hand through his hair, you slowly bring it down to the back of his burning neck, pulling him closer. The distance is almost non existent, his lips hovering over yours, close enough to feel his gentle breath.

In a blink, he pulls away.

“I…” His voice trails off, pressing his lips together. “Apologies. Can you tell me where your house is?”

“First door, second floor over there.” Pointing towards the building in front of you.

He nods, walking towards the direction of your building. The walk back is quiet, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. Afraid of making eye contact again, you screw your eyes shut and loll your head against his arm.

“We're here.” A quiet voice that you know all too well says and you don't have the guts to move, only moving your chest in attempts to breathe normally. “Y— L/n, we're here. Let's get you inside.” You only open your mouth slightly in response. “I don't want you getting a cold, please.”

“Hm?” You open your eyes slightly, Zayne's handsome features still visible in your blurry eyesight.

“We are outside your door. Do you have your keys with you so I can get you inside?”

“Bag.” You reply, pressing the side of your head against his chest. “I need to put you down for a second to get your keys, L/n.” Immediately shaking your head, you nuzzle further into him in protest. “Can you get them for me? Your bag is hanging on my shoulder.” With as little strength you can muster, you weakly grab your bag from his side, fumbling to grab your keys.

“Here!” You reveal the keys, dangling them in front of his face like a cat toy.

“Thank you.” He takes the keys from your hand, moving closer towards the door and you hear the rattling of the keys as the scent of your vanilla diffuser hits your nose.

“I need to take off your shoes. Just a second.” The plush feeling of the sofa hits your back as your head rests against the pillows. Your soaked shoes come off, and you sigh in relief at the heavy weight gone from your feet.

“It's cold.” You complain, looking around for a pillow, plopping it over your stomach as a makeshift blanket.

“So now you complain about being cold.” Zayne chuckles. “You need to change into warmer clothes.”

“Can you change my clothes?” You look at him with heavy lidded eyes as you rest your forehead against his. In your bleary state, you notice the tips of his cheeks and ears quickly turning into a bright red colour.

“No. But I can help you take off your coat instead.” As if a switch goes off, you smile and stick your arms out as you wait for him to remove the coat sticking to your body with waiting eyes. His hands reach just under your collar, removing the material off of you, making you shiver.

“Where do you keep your pyjamas? If you sleep in these, you're going to end up sneezing in front of patients.” Zayne asks, hanging your brown coat above the door to let it dry.

“Bedroom.” You stand up, much quicker than what your body can keep up with, causing the world to tilt sideways until you feel the world turn back upright with Zayne's arm wrapped around your waist. “Heh, you caught me!”

Grabbing his arm, you lead the way into your room. “There's my pyjamas!” Pointing to the big wooden drawer as you plop down on the floor.

“Which ones would you like to wear?” Searching through your drawer, he pulls out a few options.

“The blue ones!” They end up in your lap, with Zayne walking out of your room to let you change. Opening the door handle, you smile back at Zayne who only chuckles as he sees your face. “Why are you laughing? These are very stylish!”

“You still have makeup on with them on, that's all. Come on, let's get your makeup removed and your teeth brushed.” Nodding in agreement, you use him as support to walk to your bathroom and wait for him to step inside.

Craning your neck upwards to look up at Zayne, you await his instructions. He quickly catches on, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush and hands it to you. Grabbing the toothbrush, you look at him in the mirror as you begin brushing.

Just before spitting out the toothpaste, you give him a foamy grin which causes him to unfortunately only encourage you to spit it out instead of complimenting your lovely smile.

“What about your makeup remover?” Blinking up at him, you point towards the micellar water and the cotton pads laying about on the counter top.

“Here,” He hands them to you, with the bottle of micellar water opened. Taking them into your hands, you pour the transparent liquid over the cotton pad and gravely miss, with some of it ending on your fluffy mat.

“Can you do it for me?” You pass them back to him, and immediately close your eyes. Gentle hands gently touch your chin, slightly bringing it upwards as you feel the cold feeling glide across your face.

“Sorry, it's a little cold.” He apologises, shuffling about as he takes more micellar water onto the cotton pads. “Almost done.” You feel him get closer, the stupid feeling of his breath resting on your lips makes you internally spiral.

“Done. Into bed now.” You open your eyes as Zayne stands beside you, waiting for you to lead the way into your bedroom.

Your heavy feet pad against the floors, magically making it into the bed and you pull the covers over your body. “Li?” You call out with your head resting against the pillows. He turns back around in the hallway. “Thank you, you're such a good friend.”

“Of course. Just doing what a friend would do. Goodnight, L/n.” He walks away, and you finally let sleep overcome you.

The sound of an alarm that definitely should not be going off wakes you up, and you are immediately greeted with the bright sun hitting your eyes and a throbbing headache. Turning off the alarm, you bury yourself back into the covers to stop the headache.

Whatever happened last night must have been fun for the pain to be this bad. Closing your eyes, you are immediately met with the insane things you did the previous night.

Getting drunk in front of all of your colleagues, some other act that you can't quite remember and Zayne removing your makeup. All of it hits you like a train, except from this one particular thing that happened with Zayne.

Your finger hovers over your lips as a habit and suddenly everything clicks into place. Outside, jumping into the decorative fountain to cool down, Zayne getting into the fountain to only pick you up bridal style, and the kiss. The kiss that almost happened.

You scream into your pillow, the pulsing sensation only getting stronger as you use up more of your strength for such a useless thing. Letting out a heavy sigh, you rush to the bathroom to brush your teeth and create a terrible breakfast to get the pain medication down.

The medication doesn't go down as easily as you assumed it would. The bitter, chalky taste is very much reflecting your bleak outlook on your reputation and the potential for Zayne to think of you as a freak.

Hell, you even called him a good friend in your drunk state. Never have you ever considered him a friend— only an enemy, acquaintance and a confusing crush. This immediately blurs the lines of your confusing relationship, as you vaguely remembering him calling you a friend as he left last night.

Does that make you friends? Do friends almost kiss? Do friends walk you home in the opposite direction to get you home safely and remove your makeup?

Great friends might, but you bravely established the start of a friendship last night. The realisation dawns upon you, and you stare up at the ceiling in a mixture of disbelief and nervousness.

Zayne might just feel the same way.

The walk into Akso is terribly gloomy, your umbrella almost giving into the strong winds and carrying away your remaining will to live.

Making your way into the department, you spot Zayne in the corner of your eye and quickly change into your scrubs before he leaves you to have an awkward rounding session together with the rest of the trainees.

Putting on your most neutral expression possible, you approach with your hands behind your back to hide your fidgeting hands. “Doctor Li, can I speak to you privately please?”

“Of course.” Luckily for you, everyone seems keen on getting started early and leaves you alone with him. “I just want to start by apologising, I was certainly a handful on Friday night. Thank you for going out of your way to make sure I get home safely. Things that nearly happened definitely should not have happened and I want to say sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Of course, we are acquaintances and colleagues.” Your heart flutters, but you can't pinpoint if it's disappointment or acceptance. “It's in the best interests of the hospital to make sure that all staff members go back home safely. As for the thing that nearly happened, it's best if we pretend it never happened.”

“Thank you for understanding. I'm glad we can just put it behind us.” You bite the inside of your lip, realising the emotion you feel is definitely disappointment. “We should get going, we have to do rounds.”

With the specialisation exams approaching, the general surgery department grows more tense as the days go by.

The silly jokes in the break room have now been replaced by the sighs of resident doctors who only want to pass their exams. Thankfully, the department is well aware of this and has blocked out study time in your working schedule to focus on these important exams.

With your appointments running later, you have lost the privilege of choosing your seat and are forced to sit at the only shared table without a computer. But that seems to be less of a pressing problem when you see Zayne and you realise this study session is going to be a lot harder than you initially planned it out to be.

Shaking off the distraction sat next to you, you hover over a neurosurgery textbook as you fiddle with your pen. Placing your pen down, you grab a highlighter from your worn out pencil case and you hear the faint sound of your pen rolling off the table. Your reflexes aren't quick enough to catch it in time, and it drops onto the floor right onto Zayne's side of the table.

Without trying to make a scene, you stretch out your arm to reach for the stupid pen but to no avail. Extremely tempted to just use another one, you glance at the ink filled cylinder only to realise it's your favourite one that has the smoothest ink. With a new found determination, you stretch your arm out even further only to come extremely short.

You sit back up onto your seat and watch the second hand go past. The dull sound of a chair being dragged against the floor shakes the table ever so slightly and you look to the reason that disturbed your silence.

Zayne sits there, holding your pen out waiting for you to take it back. You smile at him, instantly feeling bad that you called him the so called reason of destroying your silence. Reaching for the pen, you wrap your fingers around it, waiting for Zayne to let go. But he doesn't. He only pulls the pen closer to him, causing you to be pulled closer to him by the grip he has over your poor pen.

Blinking at him, you gesture towards the pen, hoping that he gets the hint to let go so you can get back to your studies. You even point out the table, and hope that he just leaves it there. But nothing. Staring at him, you try to figure out what on earth he is trying to get out of this.

With your eyes honed in on his, you feel the pen move in your hold and before you even realise, Zayne's fingers are ever so slightly touching yours. You welcome the feeling of his fingers against yours. If you tried hard enough, you could just about make out the softness of his fingertips despite the rough procedures he helps assist whilst in the operating room.

Or maybe you could almost feel the texture of his skin if you move even in the slightest. Somebody should move their hand away. But in all honesty, you don't want to and you can't bring yourself to do so.

But the textbooks that sit on the desk is calling out your name, begging to be read again— You let out an extremely unconvincing cough that magically causes no one in the room to bat an eye, but only then, Zayne's eyes widen in shock.

He immediately lets go of the pen, and his gaze flickers between your hands and his. He hastily flicks to a new page of his textbook, pretending that you don't exist after everything that just happened.

You can only furrow your eyebrows at his behaviour, especially after noticing the red hue that has rapidly appeared on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

This is definitely not what forgetting Friday night's incident looks like.

Sitting in the break room, you fiddle with your fingers as you watch Greyson and Yvonne walk out, leaving you the only person left in the room with Zayne. The door closes behind them and you feel the conflict between your emotions threatening to spill over but you swallow them down. “I have something to say.”

“Something private, I'm assuming.” You nod, nibbling on the inside of your gum.

“I can't keep pretending like everything is okay. I can't keep going about my day as if my brain isn't clouded so many thoughts to the point where it gets overwhelming. I have tried denying it, suppressing the feeling until it disappears— but it never does. It only makes it worse. As someone who has been wanting to be a neurosurgeon long before starting medical school, I do what I am told.” You pause, looking into his eyes and seeing your own reflection.

“I have always been inclined to think with my head, never my heart. But things have changed, and at first I hated it. At first I thought it was the rush of actually being a doctor, but it wasn't. It was you, Zayne. I can't keep ignoring what my heart wants.” Tears stream down your face. “I have to give into what my heart wants. My heart wants you, Zayne.”

Through your clouded vision, you notice Zayne struggling for words for the first time in all of your years of knowing him. Your heart stammers rapidly against your chest, waiting for him to just say something. But he doesn't say anything, only wiping your tears with his cool fingertips. The coldness of his fingers brings you relief through your flushed face.

You prepare for a heart wrenching rejection that will leave you emotionally unavailable for the next three years whilst still pretending that everything is okay for the remainder of this stupid general surgeon training.

You could perhaps start by having a long movie night with some strawberry ice cream and— “You called me Zayne. Not Li.”

“That's all you care about?” Your mouth drops as your tears find their way back into its tear ducts.

“I just poured out my entire heart and all you care about is that I called you Zayne?” Anger bubbles through your small silver of patience and you walk around him, ready to leave.

“Y/n.” You pause in your tracks, fully understanding why he was unable to say anything when you called him by his first name. “Stay. Please, I didn't even get to tell you how I feel.” His hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from leaving. Turning around, you see him with his eyes glassy with tears. “I didn't get the chance to tell you my feelings. I'm sorry for scaring you like that, I just needed time to make sure what I heard from you was truly real.”

“You don't need to feel pity for me. We can just pretend that this never happened.” You sniffle, the tears threatening to spill again.

“No, Y/n. Just stay for a minute. I just need one minute.” The sense of urgency drips from his voice. His hold on your wrist doesn't tighten or loosen, just waiting for you to make a decision.

With a sigh, you turn around and see him shut his eyes closed for a second. “Studying the health of other people's hearts was always my priority. I assumed that nothing good would happen from putting my own heart first. But fuck, Y/n. I need to be selfish for once.”

“So you…”

“I like you, Y/n.” Tears flow and you find yourself between his warm arms.

“You fucking idiot.” You shove your face in his chest as you hit his shoulder. “Had me thinking if I would be known as the one who stupidly confessed her feelings for a colleague and got rejected.” His shirt becomes drenched in your tears. “You had me so scared, Zayne!”

“Shhh. I know, I'm such an idiot aren't I?” He soothes you, rubbing a hand down your back slowly. The sound of his rapid beating heart brings you a weird sense of peace, allowing you to focus on something other than the happy, hot tears streaming down your face.

Soon enough, your breathing goes back to normal. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, addressing the smirk on his face.

“So you called me Zayne, huh?” His smile grows even wider.

“Shut up.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Make me.” Without wasting another second, the space between you is closed.

A shaky hand cups your cheek and you finally, finally feel his lips on yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and you can taste the saltiness from your dried tears. But nothing has ever felt so good.

Pulling away, your forehead rests against Zayne's, feeling his breath linger on your lips. “My place.” He nods, kissing your lips once more before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the door.

You lock the door and Zayne is immediately on you, pinning you to the nearest wall. He wraps an arm around your body, pulling you close to him and closes the distance between your lips.

His hands start to wander, his usual logical mind suddenly in a frenzy. His hands soon find the ends of your blouse, placing his cold fingertips at the base of your waist.

You gasp in response, and he takes this opportunity to sweep his tongue against your mouth, leaving you breathless. Your fingers tug at his hair and this only spurs him on, slowly dragging his fingertips higher and higher.

Zayne's lips detach from yours, leaving a connected line of your shared saliva whilst you refill your lungs with air again. Soft kisses trail down your jaw until Zayne finds refuge at the base of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“You… smell like honey.” He breathes against your neck. “I missed out on my dessert on my lunch break. But who am I to care whilst I am currently indulging in the sweetest dessert after a long day of work?” His lips cover every inch of your skin scented honey perfume, thoroughly making sure to not miss a single spot.

“Zayne…” You breathe out. “Bedroom.” His large hands settle at the back of your thighs and you jump into his arms without hesitation and recapture his lips with yours.

You find yourself being placed on the side of the bed with no idea of how Zayne actually found your bedroom whilst kissing you until all the air in your lungs disappears. But you don't have the energy to care, not when he loosens his tie with one hand wearing those silver rimmed glasses of his.

Impatient, you yank him down with his collar and kiss him like tomorrow doesn't exist. Making good use of his nimble fingers, the opening of your blouse widens as he unbuttons it. The blouse lands on the bed and you fling it away, ready to do the same with the rest of your clothes.

“Gorgeous.” Zayne pulls away from you, admiring your almost naked form. His fingers find the clasp of your bra, but never comes undone. Only when you silently nod in approval is when the flimsy piece of material is released. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Zayne whispers before pinching your nipple, kissing the sides of your neck.

A rush of pleasure runs through you and you can't help but moan at the feeling. If anything, it only encourages him more to devour you, leaving wet kisses down your neck to your chest, taking your lonely bud into his mouth.

“Zayne…” You say, breathless at the pleasure he's giving you. He sucks harder in response, obviously proud of making you feel immense pleasure without even touching you where you need it the most.

He removes his lips with a soft pop from your sensitive bud, only to quickly give the other one the same attention whilst the sleeves of his shirt ride upwards. Swirling your nipple, he removes his tie and shirt with his gaze locked on you.

You grab the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as you try to mentally capture such a lewd image. In your dazed state, your eyes rake down his body, admiring the scars on his veiny arms. He presses heated kisses against your collarbone before looking at you again with his dilated pupils.

“You've been so good for me, Zaynie. Wanna do the same for you too.” You drawl out, teasingly running down one of your hands down his bare chest, watching as he exhales heavily at the mere touch of your fingertips.

“Fuck, you are going to be the death of me.” He curses under his breath but he grabs your wrist before you can go any lower. “I have waited so long to have you in my arms, darling. Tonight is all about making you feel good.” He kisses your temple. “But that doesn't stop you from doing whatever you want for round two.” His warm breath fans your ear, goosebumps quickly forming along your exposed arms.

True to his words, his fingers find the buttons on your trousers and you lift up your hips, removing the unwanted piece of material. Slow circles are traced along your inner thighs, until a finger traces over your drenched panties and you buck your core towards his hand at the fleeting sensation.

“Already this soaked for me?” He mockingly asks, continuing to move just one finger up and down your covered slit. You nod quickly in response, hoping that he actually starts moving properly. “I'm honoured. I'll give you what you so desperately want.” A ripping sound echoes throughout the room, and you feel your hot core exposed to the cold air.

But before you can even open your mouth to protest, a long, thick finger breaches your entrance. You shamelessly moan, feeling his finger explore your tight walls. “Look at you, feeling this good with just one finger.” He chuckles. “I haven't even gotten to your little sweet spot yet.” With the curl of his finger, the pads of his finger brushes against that gummy spot against your walls that has you grab your sheets.

“Fuck. Please!” You cry out, tears filling your vision.

“Please what, darling? I can't give you what you want until you ask for it.” Zayne says, another finger teasing the tip of your entrance.

“Please don't stop! Feels s-so good, Zaynie. Need more.” He slips another inside your wet core, fingers continue to stimulate your pretty g-spot, practically sending fireworks through your body.

“So responsive for me, sweetheart.” His thumb finds your clit, rubbing quick figure of eights whilst you moan unabashedly in pleasure. “I can feel you tighten up around me. Are you going to cum this quickly?”

“Close, s-so close Zaynie. I'm gonna cum, gonna be good, so good.” You grind against his hand, chasing the pleasure right on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah?” He asks and you shakily nod in agreement. “Cum for me then, sweetheart.” With his fingers never slowing down its ministrations on your poor pussy, you feel the knot in your stomach snap and the pleasure overwhelms your body.

“Took my fingers so well, my good girl.” Your eyes lazily follow his handsome face. An arm grabs your waist, pulling you onto his lap, your lips ghosting over his. “I'm not finished with you yet, darling.” He closes the distance, your wet core hovering over his trousers.

Kissing you deeper, the distance closes even more and you feel his hard bulge under you. The feeling of the material and his imprint feels too good— with every little movement that you and Zayne make, your swollen clit catches against his trousers. “I can feel you dripping, baby.”

You moan in response, pushing your breasts flush against his chest for more stimulation. “You're going to make even more of mess on me, understood?” You nod, unable to help the drool leaving your mouth, landing between your chest and his. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his stupidly hard cock rubbing against your swollen clit has you on cloud nine.

“You're all mine. Mine. My good girl is going to listen to me and make a mess, isn't she? Clenching around fucking nothing. Don't worry baby, you'll have your fill soon, I'll make sure of it. Leave you aching for days, so you never forget who makes you feel this good. I want you to keep your eyes open for me when you cum, can you do that for me?”

The thought of having Zayne making you feel so good without him properly fucking you has you going insane. He nibbles on your ear, making it all too easy to hear how desperate he is for you, making the cord inside of you snap.

“Hah, Zayne! Gonna make a mess, hck!” You cry out, your vision getting blurry as you fight back the urge to keep your eyes closed as pleasure drives through you. In the midst of your vision, you notice Zayne's stupidly handsome smirk as he watches your response, flicking between your face and his lap where you sit on.

“Filthy girl, making such a mess.” He looks down to his darkened trousers. “Did such a good job all over me.” He dries the tears on your face, placing you back down on the sheets as he fixes your hair and kisses your cheek to give you a short respite.

“Can you keep up, baby? Haven't even gotten to the best part yet.” The sound of a zipper reaches your ears in your relaxed state, Zayne freeing his cock from the restraints of his boxers.

The prominent vein running on the side, oh how much fun it would be to watch his reaction as you run your tongue over it. Perhaps for another time.

“Do you have any condoms anywhere, darling?” Shaking your head no, you see the indecisiveness in his eyes.

“Please Zaynie, if I wait any longer I might just cry.” You plead.

“We need to stay safe, Y/n. We don't want any unexpected problems.” He screws his eyes closed, trying to think of something.

“We can get a pill tomorrow, Zaynie.” You press your lips together. “I've waited to have you for so long, I can't wait much longer.” You see his eyes waver. “Please, baby?”

“You are the only one that makes all of my logic fly out of the window. Just this once.” He languidly strokes himself a couple times, his jaw tightening ever so slightly from the pleasure. He hovers over you, his face close to yours. “Tell me you want me and I will give you all of me.”

“I want you— no, I need you Zayne. Need you to fill me up so bad.” You beg and a heart throbbing smile appears on his face. You feel a stretch, your head spinning at the dangerous mix of pain and pleasure.

“I've got you, gorgeous. Just breathe slowly for me, okay?” You follow his instructions, the stretch quickly ebbing into pure pleasure.

Your jaw drops at the feeling and you desperately crave for more. “Need all of you, baby. I can take it, need to feel all of you.” You wrap your legs around his waist, ready for more. He pushes in further and your walls clamp around him, memorising the way his cock curves ever so slightly against where you need it the most.

“So tight for me gorgeous. I'm such a lucky man.” He rests his forehead against yours, savouring the closeness between you two. Without a warning, he pulls back painstakingly slow before pushing himself back in.

“Zayne!” You whine, eyes screwing shut as he continues to thrust repeatedly.

“I'm here, darling.” He finds your lips, slotting it between his, the sounds of your shared saliva echoing throughout the room. You moan into his mouth as he finds his rhythm, showing you the fruits of his stamina.

“So fucking tight.” He disconnects his lips from yours. “Can't believe we spent so long arguing when I could have been in here. We need to make up for all the lost time, sweetheart.” An 'mhm' is all you can manage, your mind only filled with Zayne, Zayne, Zayne.

“Has my darling of a surgeon forgotten how to speak?” You rake your fingernails down his back. “Have I made you go all dumb with just my cock?”

“I can —ngh— still —fuck— talk!” You just about manage to say, looking up at Zayne, drinking in your fucked out appearance.

“I guess I haven't done my job properly.” He snaps his hips forwards and you grasp onto his biceps for support. “Tell me darling, what is the seventh cranial nerve?” You don't have the willpower to prove his stupidly gorgeous face wrong, even though any other moment you would have jumped at such an easy opportunity to do so.

How does he expect you to know when he's literally rearranging your insides?

You use whatever brainpower you have left, formulating a snarky reply. “Zayne I don't fucking care about some stupid cranial nerve right now.” You stare into his hazel green eyes. “Please don't stop, feels so good.”

“As you wish.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips and drills into your sopping core with no mercy. Your head tilts back, exposing your bare neck for him. He licks your skin as a warning, sucking and grazing the surface with his teeth, definitely more than enough to leave pretty marks in the morning. His warm breath finds the small of your ear, nibbling on the fleshy part of your earlobe ever so gently in attempts to bring you closer to the edge.

“I can feel you clenching around me, gorgeous. Feels so good doesn't it?” He mocks you, his tone of voice mimicking to yours. “I'm going to make you feel even better.” Zayne says and much to your dismay, pulls out.

You feel his hands reach out for your calves, folding your legs against your chest, pushing you into the mattress in a mean mating press. “How about this, baby?” He pushes back in and your eyes roll back.

You can feel him everywhere, this position makes your chest heave as you feel all the breath in your lungs being stolen from you with each snap of his hips. “What about now, darling? Do you have words left to say, or has the cat finally gotten your tongue?” You open your mouth, but no words come out. The cool air floods your mouth, a stark comparison to your burning body.

“Thought so.” Zayne smirks, tightening his grip on your waist. “Fuck darling, how did you get even tighter? It's like your cunt is begging me to not stop since your pretty mouth can't do it for you. You're so close, aren't you baby?” Your eyes become glassy, the pleasure overwhelming your senses as you whimper in a pathetic response.

His shoulders are so wide, you can barely even see the ceiling. It would definitely would be fun to leave blooming marks for him to cover up in the morning. A calculated thrust snaps you out of your daydreaming. “Come on, darling. Let all the neighbours know who makes you feel this good.”

His hand snakes towards your throbbing clit, giving it some needed attention after what feels like an eternity. “Hah— 'm close! Cum? Can I cum?” You plead.

“I know you're close darling. Say I'm yours and I'll let you cum.” The quick movements on your clit never stop, if anything they only speed up at his request.

“I'm yours! Yours, yours, Zayne! Mmm, my boyfriend is fucking me so good!” You cry out, your pleasure filled mind begging for release.

“Say that again, darling.”

“Boyfriend fucking me so good! Love it so much, please let me cum!” His eyes lock onto yours, filled with need and desire.

“Only your boyfriend can make you feel this good, can't he?” He greedily presses his fingers into the side of your hips. “Need to see you make a mess. Cum for me.” His thick mushroom head bullies your sweet spot in an uneven rhythm, a bead of sweat falls down his temples.

You don't even comprehend what comes out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes into you. Waves of pleasure run through your body as you blindly grab onto Zayne to ground yourself. You weakly open your eyes and watch Zayne's movements begin to falter as he finds release, hot white spurts of his cum finding home inside your fluttering walls.

With gentleness reserved only for you, he pulls out and finds a spot next to you on the bed. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi boyfriend.” His ears burn with a red ruby colour. You smile, albeit exhausted and snuggle up closer to him.

“I wasn't too much, was I?” He asks, his eyes raking down your body to see the beginning of littered dark marks forming on your skin. “I'm sorry if I hurt you, darling.”

“You didn't, Zaynie. Besides, I wouldn't mind it if you did.” The corner of your lips goes up ever so slightly, feeling the exhaustion clear instantly.

“We have tomorrow off, don't we? Don't you think it's time for you to fulfil your promise of round two?” Your finger trails down his chest and Zayne exhales heavily.

“Let me make my handsome boyfriend feel good, hm?” You look into his eyes for confirmation and latch onto his neck when he begs you for more.

Walking to the lunch cafeteria, you feel a hand appear out of nowhere and pull you into the storage closet you know all too well. “Who are— Zayne?” You exclaim and he places a hand over your mouth to quieten you down, so you bite on his fingers as revenge. He removes his hand, and you rub your hands over the bite marks to soothe the pain.

“Why are we in here?” You question your boyfriend.

“Darling, do you remember this little room?” He asks and you nod quickly in hopes he lets you free to hurry down to the cafeteria. “This was the room where you called us acquaintances. I was not particularly happy with that label on our relationship.”

“Baby, you were the one who told me and I quote, “This is not how acquaintances act around each other,” so it was you, not me.” He only pouts and you kiss his lips as a quick act of comfort. “Can we go now? It's lunch, you know that they serve my favourite lasagna on Mondays!”

“I'm not hungry for that kind of lunch right now.” He replies, caging you between him and the door. “Let me have my lunch, hm?” Realising what he wants, you let him press his body against yours as you impatiently await his lips on yours.

“Hold on, let me get a mop and bucket first!” A muffled voice says through the other side of the door and you feel your skin grow cold at the thought of someone discovering something that definitely should not be happening in a hospital storage closet.

Zayne's hand instinctively reaches for the handle, clearly looking stressed. But your mind strays elsewhere, as you notice the prominent veins on his arms and hands as he uses all his strength to keep the door closed.

“I think the door's locked, Joseph! Just wait a minute, I'll go grab the keys from reception!” The voice fades into the distance and you silently let out a sigh of relief.

“He's gone.” Zayne lets out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you, my knight in shining armour. So brave, so strong.” You thank him, running your hands down his arms. “We have to hurry before Joseph's friend comes and finds us, don't we?” Zayne's eyes become heavy lidded, one hand on the door and the other resting above your head.

His forehead rests on yours, forcing you to make eye contact with him, sending a swarm of butterflies down your stomach. “My gorgeous darling.” He breathes out before greedily capturing your lips. Your chest presses against his and he shudders at the sensation.

“If we reveal our relationship one day, everyone is going to know who you belong to. Kisses—” He places a kiss on your jawline. “Here,” soft kisses press against your pulse point. “and here.”

The sound of rattling against the door stops your boyfriend in his tracks, going back to putting all of his attention on the door.

You pout, undoing a few of his top buttons to reveal his collarbone. Lifting yourself off the door, you attach yourself to him and leave open mouthed kisses against the hidden area that only you can look at.

“It's not working.” Joseph's friend mutters under his breath. “Joseph, I'm going to try another storage closet, I won't be too long!” He walks away, and you wrap your arms around Zayne's waist.

“He should be gone for good now, baby.” You rub circles around his waist. “But about the revealing the relationship—”

“I'm sorry if I forced something onto you that you don't want to do, my love.” He replies and you shake your head.

“I want to. I just don't know the best time to reveal it. Perhaps the award ceremony, since we're both nominees for the same award?”

“I think that's a wonderful idea.” He pats your head. “Now should we go get your lasagna?” You shake your head, your fingers running against the faint marks against his collarbone before fixing up his buttons.

“Now we can, as long as you let me go first to get my lasagna before it runs out.”

“Are you sure it's not to avoid us exposing our relationship to the whole of the hospital?” You cover your mouth in fake shock. “Both.” Kissing his cheek, you leave him to stop the flush on his cheeks from reddening more as you open the door.

“Over here, Y/n!” Yvonne calls out your name, and you spot her with the other surgical trainees. Walking past the tables, you sit down on the chair opposite Yvonne and place the precious lasagna onto the table.

“It looks like everyone is here?” Looking around the table, you pretend to not notice the seat next to you, intended for your secret boyfriend.

“Zayne isn't.” Greyson replies, and you open your mouth into a small 'o' shape as you pretend to remember his existence. “Have you seen him, by the way? I wonder if he will get here in time before the cheesecakes from the counter are all gone.”

“Not on my way here, no.” You bite into the lasagna, the taste making you instantly smile. “Oh. There he is.” You point to the man hovering over the dessert section. He sits beside you, pretending to not pay any attention to you.

“Since we are finishing our first year as doctors soon and have all passed our specialisation exams, which hospitals are you guys going to work at?” Yvonne asks, grabbing a spoonful of rice.

“The one in Skyhaven, I'm already dreading the long journey there.”

“I'm heading to Chansia, I hope it's as peaceful as people say it is.”

Hearing everyone is going their separate ways, you pick at your lasagna as your appetite slips away with every passing minute. “I'm staying here, thankfully.” Zayne answers, his warm hand is placed on your thigh, drawing small circles to comfort you.

“I am too.” You reply, reaching under the table with your free hand, you feel for Zayne's hand.

“We all need to keep in touch, guys! I have absolutely no idea how, considering our schedules are somehow going to be more intense, but I expect a reunion at least twice a year!” Yvonne points at each person on the table, making eye contact with everyone.

“Of course, don't even worry about it. You wouldn't let us live it down in the group chat, Yvonne.” You reply, causing everyone to laugh.

His large hand reaches for yours, tracing the lines on your palms before interlocking your fingers with his. His calloused thumb rubs the back of your hand gently, hiding back a smirk when you jolt slightly at the sensation.

“Are you okay, Y/n? You jumped in your seat. Was it a fly or something?” Greyson asks, putting all of the attention on you.

“Yep, I'm okay. Just hit my foot against the bar under the table, no worries.” You say through your teeth, hoping they move on and find a new topic to talk about.

“I've been working here for almost a full year and you're telling me there was a bar under the table? How have I not given myself bruises yet?” Yvonne's head dips under the table, and you immediately shove Zayne's hand away from you.

Heat rushes to your face and you tap your foot against the floor to calm down your racing heartbeat. “There actually is one! I think it's a miracle I haven't hit my foot against it yet. It's a sign that next year will go smoothly!” Unsure of what to say, you hum in agreement, picking up your fork to eat your lasagna with one hand as your other finds Zayne's under the table.

“Zayne, why are you eating your lasagna with one hand? Cutting just using a fork seems troublesome.” Greyson butts in, and you feel his hand grip yours tighter.

“I want to get more comfortable with using my left hand for surgeries. Is there a problem, Greyson?” Your boyfriend replies, causing Greyson to compliment him on his dedication for wanting to improve quickly.

Glancing at the clock, your shoulders relax as the time reaches 12:53. “Guys, we have seven more minutes before lunch ends. We should probably go.” Shoving the last bite of lasagna in, you give Zayne's hand a quick squeeze before heading off to put your plate away.

You sit in the large hall that Akso has rented out for the awards ceremony, admiring the blue decorations and banners that cover the walls as you await for the next award to be revealed. Looking over to Zayne who sits next to you, he gives you a gentle smile with a quiet nod which instantly calms your nerves.

“The last award to be announced will be the 'Most Promising Rookie Surgeon of the Year’. Will the nominees please stand up and make their way to the stage, please?” The hospital director asks and you smooth the material of your dress before standing up alongside Zayne.

Shuffling past others in the row to get to the front, the director notices you and Zayne. “Ah yes, the infamous double-trouble duo, Doctor L/n and Doctor Li. Doctor Zhou, you must have had your hands full with these two in the same department.” Everyone laughs as Doctor Zhou eagerly nods her head in agreement.

You make your way up the stage, intentionally walking slower up the stairs to prevent falling with your heels on. “With these two under our radar, our future patients will be in very good hands.” Standing side by side, you notice the large bouquet of flowers that will be given to the winner.

“Regardless of the results, being nominated for such an impressive award is truly an amazing feat. It only starts the future of an exciting career.” He smiles. “But alas, there must only one winner. The winner for the 'Most Promising Rookie Surgeon of the Year’ is… Doctor L/n!”

Loud cheers flood your ears, and you see everyone on the general surgery team giving you proud smiles and claps. Turning around to face Zayne, he smiles as if he holds all the stars in his eyes. “Congrats, my love.” His lips read.

You feel the large bouquet of flowers end up in your arms, and you're gently ushered towards the microphone for your short speech. “I— wow. Being a nominee was truly enough for me, but I would just like to thank all those who helped me get to this point. The lovely patients who taught me the importance of putting others before myself, the general surgery team especially my mentor, Doctor Zhou.” You face Zayne, and he nods, giving you confirmation.

You move the microphone slightly so you face him as you give your speech. “Most importantly, to my pillar of support. Zayne Li. I know that we had an extremely rocky start, but somewhere along the way, you understood me and helped me become someone that others could rely on. Thank you, my love.” The cheers start up again, and you take a celebratory picture with your flowers on stage.

Murmurs of the audience begin to rev up, people talking about how they find it hard to believe that the two people who wanted to take out each other's guts somehow became lovers.

The deadly combination of large flowers blocking your view and tall heels make you unstable on your feet as you walk towards the end of the stage. Above your view of the flowers, you notice Zayne making his way down the stairs and waits down at the bottom.

A familiar hand patiently hangs in the air, waiting for you to take it. You barely manage to hold your hand out and he stabilises you, preventing you from falling down the steps.

The murmurs immediately stop and are replaced with gasps, realising that you weren't lying about your relationship. Disappointed sighs are heard from certain members of the audience, with them talking about how they won't be able to shoot their shot with Zayne or you, making you smile up at Zayne.

Making your way back down to your seats, you hold the flowers in one hand and Zayne's hand in the other. He guides you to your seat, helping you place the flowers on the floor. Yvonne turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face as she asks you when you started to date Zayne. You laugh, elbowing her to stay quiet as the ceremony comes to a close.

Zayne holds your flowers as the entire general surgery department stand outside the hall. “So are you going to tell us exactly how this relationship started or am I going to need to hack into your phone?” Yvonne asks, eyeing your purse that Zayne conveniently also holds.

“That's going to take too long, I'm going to need a few hours for that one!” Yvonne's jaw drops, realising there is so much more to the story than she thought.

“The entire department hosted a bet about you guys.” You look at Zayne, who looks equally confused. “We wanted to see if the tension you guys had would either end up in one of you guys— or both— stabbing each other in the back or if you would end up together. Thankfully, Yvonne and I won.” Greyson high fives Yvonne whilst everyone else sighs, taking out large bills out of their wallets.

“If you told me last year I would be in a relationship with Zayne, I would have laughed in your face. Especially after I intentionally picked a fight with him after we met.” Zayne chuckles as he reminisces your first interaction.

“I had too much confidence for someone who thought it would be best to listen to instructions to a stranger instead of a receptionist on how to get to lecture hall C5.”

“C5? Darling, you asked me where lecture hall E5 was, not C5.” Your jaw drops, realising that this entire time, Zayne never meant to intentionally set you up and send you to the wrong place.

“Your reasoning for starting a six year feud was because he sent you to the wrong lecture hall?” Doctor Zhou asks, clearly amused.

“In my defence, I asked for C5 and not E5— he made me late to the first lecture that I desperately wanted to make a good first impression in. It was extremely loud that day, C and E do sound quite similar when you shout them at someone.” You grin, with everyone still shocked at your levels of pettiness.

“Anyways, I'm glad things ended well for us.” You say, and Zayne kisses your temple lovingly.

“I'm hungry.” Greyson sighs, pretending to not see your public display of affection.

“Should we go to the barbecue place for dinner?”

“As long as Y/n doesn't get too drunk and jump into the fountain, call a good friend before falling asleep after her makeup is removed.” Your boyfriend replies with a grin, and your hand flies up to cover his mouth.

“You did what?” Yvonne turns to face you in shock, her mouth open.

“Dinner sounds wonderful, Greyson!” You swiftly change the topic, turning on your heel as you walk towards your car. Zayne closely follows, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours.

intellectual property of ©hirayalia, 2026. do not copy or feed to ai.

xavier (word count: 625)

you called xavier while you were grocery shopping. the plan was simple. you were going to his apartment later for a baking date, and since you knew his pantry was probably lacking anything remotely useful, you decided to ask what ingredients he already had before buying everything yourself. although, if you were being honest, you suspected the answer was going to be very little.

xavier answered after a few rings. "hey. do you need something?"

you smiled at the familiar sound of his voice.

"do you have—any..."

you looked around the supermarket. the aisles were unusually crowded. boxes were stacked everywhere, carts were blocking the shelves, and employees were busy restocking. the perfect timing.

"what? can you say that last word again?"

you frowned and looked down at your phone. the call was still connected. xavier's name was still displayed on the screen. so why couldn't he hear you?

you brought the phone closer and spoke a little louder. "i said, do you—"

static suddenly ripped through the speaker. the loud crackling made you pull the phone away from your ear. seriously your service, again? you knew you should have upgraded your phone the last time you had the chance. somehow, every time you left home, your signal decided to disappear at the worst possible moment.

"do i what?"

xavier's voice came through again, quieter this time. "is everything okay?"

you tried to answer quickly before the connection disappeared again.

"no, i—i'm breaking up—" the static returned. "—with you."

the call suddenly dropped, and you stared at your phone in disbelief. the little service bar that had completely disappeared.

you immediately tried texting him - sorry, my phone lost service.

the message failed. you tried again. nothing, just the pesky exclamation mark showing it didn't go through.

you sighed, putting your phone away. you would see him soon anyway, and you could explain then.

you pushed your cart further down the aisle, reaching for a box of sugar. then everything changed. a flash of light surrounded you. the store disappeared for a moment. and a familiar voice cut through the beam.

"you are breaking up with me?"

slowly, you turned and standing in front of you was xavier. his eyes were wide, concern written all over his face.

"xavier?" you dropped the sugar box. "what are you—what?!"

you stepped closer, completely confused. "why would you think that?"

you immediately wrapped your arms around him. but for a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to hold you back.

"on the phone," he said quietly, "you said 'i'm breaking up with you.'"

his expression softened. "i thought you were crying. that's why your voice kept cutting out."

you couldn't stop the small smile that appeared. of course this was what he thought. it was ridiculous, and somehow, completely adorable.

"no, xavier." you pulled away and held up your phone. "my phone sucks! my service stopped working. see?"

you showed him the failed messages. the evidence was right there. for a second, he just stared, then a hint of redness crept across his ears.

"oh." he looked away, clearly embarrassed that he had jumped to that conclusion. but finally, his arms wrapped around you. relieved. "i see."

"you teleported to a grocery store because you thought i broke up with you."

"i was concerned." he muttered into your shirt.

you smiled, "you're lucky you're cute."

"please stop."

you felt him shaking his head but you couldn't stop smiling. after a moment, xavier pulled away and looked down at your cart.

"so..." he glanced at the ingredients. "are we still having baking night?"

"that was your first question after all this?"

he looked at you seriously then smiled.

"yes, xavie. we're still having baking night."

"good...i'll help."

zayne (word count: 666)

zayne knew he was going to be at the hospital late. you knew it too, which was exactly why you were currently sitting in the parking lot outside a small restaurant, a bag of his favorite food sitting carefully beside you. a surprise.

he had been working nonstop lately, taking extra shifts and barely remembering to eat anything that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria. you figured showing up with dinner was the least you could do.

your phone rang before you could start driving - zayne's caller id flashing.

you smiled immediately as you answered, "hi."

your keychains rattled slightly as you went to put the key in the ignition.

"you sound busy."

"i'm…not." you didn't want to let on that you were on your way to see him and hoped your voice wouldn't give you away.

"you hesitated."

he knew you too well. you tried to play it off, "and you spend too much time analyzing people."

"i'm a doctor it's in the job description."

you smiled to yourself as you pulled onto the road. "how's your shift?"

"long."

"that bad?"

"i've had better."

you frowned sympathetically, "did you eat?"

"i had coffee."

"that is not food."

"it had calories."

you drove through the tunnel, still talking. "so i was thinking maybe after your shift—"

the call crackled, you glanced at your phone.

"hello?" he asked

"i-was thinking-need-to-break-up " there was static. "your schedule" you tapped the screen. it was still connected. "zayne?"

then the call ended. the tunnel was always bad for service. you should have known you were going to lose him. no matter, you shrugged it off. you would see him soon anyway.

after a few more errands you arrived at the hospital. zayne had just finished with a patient when he returned to his office.

and there you were standing by his desk. setting out dinner.

you turned around with a smile, "surprise!"

for a moment, he looked like he had forgotten how to react. then his expression shifted. not confusion...something worse.

"you shouldn't be here."

your smile immediately faltered. "what do you mean?"

"i thought..." he looked away. "i thought you broke up with me."

the utensil in your hand slipped, and fell on the floor with a clatter. "WHAT?!"

zayne looked at you confused. "the call. when you said..." his voice lowered. "that you were breaking up with me."

there was a brief moment of silence then — "SO YOU WERE JUST GOING TO LET ME BREAK UP WITH YOU OVER A PHONE CALL?!"

the entire office went quiet. some of his coworkers outside the window stopped walking. zayne just stared at you.

"that's what you're upset about?"

"yes! you thought i broke up with you and your solution was just... acceptance?"

"it's not like i had much time to question it, i had patients to see."

"zayne." you said taking a step closer to him

he opened his mouth to speak then stopped, because now that he was hearing it out loud, it did sound absurd. not only would you never, but he should have never assumed.

you crossed your arms standing directly in front of him now.

he sighed, "i'm sorry, it's been a long day."

you raised an eyebrow. "that's your excuse?"

"it is the only explanation i have."

you tried to stay annoyed. you really did. but then he stepped closer, his expression softening as his hands reached for you.

your face relaxed. "i guess i should have called back when i got out of the tunnel."

"yes, you should have."

you rolled your eyes and before you could respond, he leaned down and kissed you. it was slow and gentle. the tension he had felt all day melting away. the kind of kiss that said he was still relieved you were here.

when he pulled away, he glanced at the dinner you brought, and his stomach rumbled before he could stop it.

"go eat before i change my mind and pack this up."

"yes ma'am"

rafayel (word count: 744)

you had just finished getting dinner with some friends and were about to head into a new nightclub. it was supposed to be a great night. no drama. no problems. just a fun night out.

before you went inside, you decided to call rafayel. mostly because you knew if you didn't, he would somehow convince himself you died in some horrible accident.

you waited near the entrance, watching the line slowly move forward. the second he answered, you smiled.

"hey. how's girls night?" his voice immediately turned teasing. "miss me already?"

the music from the club was already blasting through the speakers outside, the bass vibrating through the sidewalk. It was way too loud.

"good, miss you—what? having fun."

"that's good...i think."

you smiled, smushing your phone up closer to your ear trying to hear him better.

"if you need a ride home, just let me know."

you looked toward the front of the line. you were almost inside.

"i'm sorry—"

the music drowned you out. you stepped away from the crowd, pressing your phone closer to your ear.

"i am breaking up—"

there was static and rafayel's voice barely cut through. "what?"

you frowned, "i said i'm breaking up—" the connection broke again. you tried moving toward the side of the building where it was quieter. "—with you."

the call dropped. you stared at your phone. "oh, come on."

you barely had time to register that you had lost signal before your phone started going off.

once. twice. then nonstop. notifications flooded your screen - your social media. yur personal email. your work email. somehow, rafayel had found every possible method of communication and was using all of them.

you opened the first message - we can work this out, i promise.

then the next - please don't leave me. i love you so much.

you continued scrolling. there were at least twenty more. you weren't even sure when he had managed to type all of them.

i don't understand what happened but i am willing to take the blame.

are you ignoring me?

that is fair. i deserve it.

but please know i am suffering.

you covered your face with your hand. you immediately tried calling him back but it steadily beeped. you checked your signal bar. no bars.

you looked at the nightclub entrance. your friends were waiting. the night was supposed to be fun. but now you had a very dramatic boyfriend somewhere thinking his entire relationship had ended because of a bad phone connection.

you sighed, "sorry guys."

your friends looked at you. "what happened?"

you held up your phone, "rafayel."

they immediately understood. "again?"

you nodded, apologizing as you left the line, already knowing where you were going. by the time you reached his place, you weren't even surprised that the door opened before you knocked. rafayel stood there. his hair was messy, and his expression was devastated.

you stared at him, "rafayel."

he looked at you for all of 0.5 seconds then immediately pulled you into a hug.

"i thought you were gone."

"raf-"

"i was prepared to give you space." he interrupted

you couldn't help laughing. he pulled back, looking offended.

"this isn't funny. you broke up with me over a phone call."

"but the thing is i actually didn't."

"you said you were breaking up with me."

"i said the call was breaking up!"

rafayel froze, "what?"

"the signal dropped." you held up your phone. "the nightclub was loud, my service was terrible, and you heard half a sentence."

his expression slowly changed devastation turning into hope, "you mean..."

"i mean i was not breaking up with you."

there was a pause, then his shoulders dropped. the dramatic despair faded into embarrassment.

"oh...so i see now that i panicked."

"you contacted my work email."

"i was desperate!" he looked away. "i thought i was losing my muse."

you softened immediately, because underneath all the drama, that was the real reason. he loved deeply. sometimes too deeply.

you reached up and fixed his hair, "you are dramatic. "

"and..."

"and i love you."

his expression brightened immediately as he pulled you into the house and closed the door.

"good. does this mean girls night is over? i just want to know if i should order dinner."

you laughed, "you're unbelievable."

"but?"

you sighed, "but yes. order dinner."

he kissed your forehead. "next time, please don't break up with me."

"next time, please let me finish a sentence."

sylus (word count: 551)

you should have known answering a call during a mission was a bad idea - but it was sylus. and despite everything you claimed about being professional, you always answered when it was him.

your phone buzzed as you moved through the abandoned district, scanning the area for Wanderer activity. you accepted the call.

"you're calling me during work hours?" you teased.

a low chuckle came through the speaker. "and you're answering during a mission. seems we're both making questionable decisions."

you rolled your eyes. "you missed me."

"obviously."

you opened your mouth prepared to continue teasing him. then something moved behind you.

"sylus, hold on."

a wanderer lunged. you dodged, your phone bouncing against your shoulder as you fought back.

"are you seriously fighting while we're on the phone?"

"kind of busy!"

"i can tell." there was amusement in his voice.

you fired back at the wanderer, moving quickly across the street.

"stay there!"

"i am not the one you need to tell that to."

the wanderer attacked again, and you grunted, pushing it back.

"sylus, i'm breaking—" static swallowed your voice.

his expression changed. "what?"

you were still talking but all he heard was fragments.

"i'm breaking..." the signal crackled. "...with you."

he heard a crash then silence. for several seconds, sylus stared at his phone.

by the time your shift ended, you were already exhausted. you noticed the missed calls immediately. and the moment you called him back, he answered.

"i am so sorry." you begin trying to explain