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Robby is taking the night shift. They are chronically understaffed, and even if Jack insisted they could manage and he should go rest, heâs made up his mind. He refuses to let them think heâs too old for a double shift.
Heâs doing some paging when the alarm goes off. The blaring sound makes him tense immediately, standing up so fast his chair hits the back of another table. He quickly finds Abbot, emerging from one of the emergency bays, easily guiding everyone.
âAlright everyone, follow RACE! Charge nurse, confirm your headcounts once youâre clear!â
Robby jogs up to him. âIs it a drill?â
Jack shrugs, already helping an old lady walk to the emergency exit. âNo fucking clue, brother.â
Robbyâs about to join him in helping the patients out when Jack calls out. âFuck! Robby. Thereâs this new protocol, facilities need an all-clear on eight, someone needs to walk it.â
He frowns, crosses half the floor in five steps. âOn it!â
Heâs done the eight flights of stairs at least a hundred times over the years, but heâs panting when he reaches the last one this time. He brings a hand to his back, shouldâve stretched or just send someone else.
The door opens with a groan, a thump and a yelp. He flinches at the unexpected sound, turns around the door to see what caused it. Thereâs a bag on the floor, the few belongings on it sprawled out on the floor like it hadnât been closed properly. Then, a fluff of blonde hair, looking down. The person whimpers. âShit, my noseâŚâ
The voice is nasal but familiar. âWhitaker?â
The student lifts his chin at the acknowledgment, face going from confused to relieved to terrified in less than five seconds. âDr. Robby?!â
Thereâs blood gathered around the younger manâs nose, his hand gripping tight at his nasal bridge. Heâs not wearing his scrubs anymore, they have been replaced by some old looking sweatpants and a shirt with University of Pittsburgh printed at the front. In any other circumstance, Robby would stare more than it was considered appropriate, but now he was reaching for Dennisâ nose and tilting his head forward.
âWhat the fuck are you doing here? Thereâs, you didnât hear the fire alarm? And why are you in the eighthâŚâ
The jigsaw falls into place slowly. Heâd heard about it, of course. People living on abandoned parts of the hospital, even sleeping on the waiting room without needing medical attention. Heâd discussed it with Jack a few times, they agreed it was cruel to just kick them out, and that if they werenât bothering anyone they should just let them stay. But heâd imagined something else. Maybe old people left alone by family, folks struggling with an addiction, maybe even teens who got kicked out.
But not Dennis. Not cute, sweet Dennis, who always said his hellos and goodbyes to everyone on the staff, who worked so hard to help every single patient, who smiled so bright when Robby praised him.
His chest hurt and the hand around the blondeâs neck softened. âWe, we have to-â
âDr. Robby, please donât tell anyone. Itâs just a temporary thing, I swear, itâs not- I just donât have a stable source of income yet, but iâll-â
They hear sounds from the other side of the corridor, from the other entrance. Robby keeps his hand over Dennisâ mouth, not caring about the blood thatâs falling on it. He drags him backwards into a corner of the corridor, between a storage closet and the wall.
Thereâs a small group of nurses, probably sent to check the floor too. They give a quick look around and move to the stairs.
Robby lets out a contained breath, wincing when it moves the blonde curls of the body pressed against him. He quickly removes the bloodied hand, moving Dennis out. âIâm sorry, Whitaker, I didnât⌠It wouldâve been hard to explain, why you were here.â
When he finally dares a look down, he swears Dennis is about to starts crying. His huge blue eyes glossy, lips pressed on a thin line. He reaches for his shoulder instinctively, or thatâs what he tells himself every time his hands find their way back to him. âHey. Dennis? Are you alright? Is it your nose, hurts too much?â
The younger man shakes his head, looks down to wipe at his eyes. âSorry, no, itâs not that.â
Robby wants to press further, but the blue and red lights of the fire truck outside seem like a bigger priority. âOkay. Okay, we should- come on.â
The whole way down the stairs he tries to find a reason why he grabbed the poor guyâs hand. Itâs unnecessary, inappropriate and probably patronizing. But the hand in his is so cold. Itâs logical heâd rub his fingers over Dennisâ boney knuckles, to help with the blood flow.
They make it through a side emergency exit on record time. Robby immediately turns to look at him up and down. Around them, the evacuation continues. Voices, radios, the hiss of equipment. No one looks twice at them. Just another doctor tending to someone bleeding. Robby hates how easy it would be to pretend thatâs all this is.
âYou dizzy?â he asks.
Dennis shakes his head. Then, after a second, nods. âA little. I ran when the alarm went off. I was half asleep, didnât mean to be in the way.â
âYou werenât,â Robby says immediately. Too fast. âYouâre not.â
Dennisâs fingers twist together. His voice comes out thin, raw. âI know Iâm not supposed to⌠be here. I try to stay out of sight. I swear. I only sleep. I clean up after myself. I donât go near patient areas, I-â
âDennis, hey. Look at me.â
It takes a second, but Dennis does. His eyes are red-rimmed now, lashes clumped together with tears heâs clearly furious with himself for shedding.
Robby feels something sharp and ugly bloom behind his sternum. Guilt, hot and heavy. Heâs walked these halls for years. Praised Dennis for staying late, for always being available. He never once asked where the kid went after.
âYou donât have to justify yourself to me,â Robby says. âNot right now.â
Dennis swallows. His shoulders sag just a fraction, like the fightâs leaking out of him despite his best efforts. âIf you tell them,â he whispers, âtheyâll kick me out. I canâ-I canât afford that. â
His voice breaks. Fully this time. He ducks his head, a tear slipping free and dropping onto the concrete between his shoes.
Robbyâs instinctive response is immediate and wrong and inevitable. He reaches out, cups the back of Dennisâs neck, thumb brushing the damp curls there. Itâs grounding, anchoring. For both Dennis and him if heâs being honest.
He pulls his hand back just as fast, as if burned.
âIâm not telling anyone,â he says, low and fierce. âNot tonight.â
Dennis looks up again, stunned. ââŚyouâre not?â
âNo.â Robby exhales through his nose, scrubs a hand over his face. âFacilities will clear the floor. Administration will be busy for hours. No oneâs looking for you right now.â
He hesitates, then adds quieter, âAnd Iâm not interested in making your life any harder than it already is.â
The relief that crosses Dennisâs face is almost painful to witness. Itâs too much, too fast, like someone whoâs been holding his breath for days finally letting go. His chin wobbles.
(ended it there cause it felt too long? i could probably do a second part tho :P)
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