Nu îti pot rezista, meu liliac

I loved this visual so much I had to doodle it.

[ID: 10 blinkies of different pride flags, with the name of each label written in pixel lettering. In order, they are xenogirl, neopronouns, urancurious, greyromantic, apothisexual, panplatonic, demiplatonic, demisensual, platofavorable, and otherhearted. /end ID]

too-friendly patients clasp his hand as they thank him, and he’s bristling so much he barely processes their gratitude. he takes a step back, gentle but firm, and sends them on their way, trying to look past the confusion on their faces.

the only intern who doesn’t fear him aces an assessment one day. but when she bounds up to him and asks for a high-five, he can only spare her a curt nod. her dejected flush replays in his mind when she shrinks away from him in the hallway.

he questions his personhood when he retreats from the pediatric patients’ eager touches, their tiny hands reaching up to grab at his stethoscope. shouldn’t he like this? shouldn’t he chuckle and beckon them forward? shouldn’t his heart fill with warmth? that’s how he hears greyson describe it. that’s how he sees the nurses act. so why can’t he do the same?