@edensiren:   â iâm so proud of you, you know that? â
soft sentence starters.  (still accepting)
how long have you been sitting here â staring at slides, scribbling down observations?  feels like decades with how much your joints complain at the simplest movement.  mechanisms rusted stiff from inactivity and pooling blood.  a broken little thing, doing whatever it can to fix itself.  she sits to their left, bright eyes boring into them with adoration as they continue to quietly work.  she has no idea what youâre doing, never really has, but that doesnât stop her from being supportive anyway.  but its okay â thatâs all you need, and she knows.  concentration breaks when lithe digits gently curl into stark-white sleeve, scarred palm meeting a gaunt cheek to bring young doctorâs gaze to her own.  her touch is so warm, and you worry that smile might burn you where you stand.
â Â iâm so proud of you, you know that? Â â
body tense from a world of expectations relaxes at such simple words, mouth slightly agape as a response sits at the back of their throat in fear, refusing to be spoken into the air and known to the only other soul in the room â the only other soul in their life.  instead, they raise a hand, fingers entwining as face presses into the point of contact.  you donât deserve her â you donât deserve this.  the thought is fleeting, yet ever-present, a loose bit of gravel thatâs snuck its way into their shoe, making itself known at only the most inconvenient of times it seems.  what would your parents think?  that rockâs a little bigger than a piece of gravel.
â yes, â  a soft noise, not quite uncertain â yet not quite certain,  â i think i do. â  a rare gentleness coats their words, nigh-glowing hues searching for something in soft expression, some trace of deception they know they will never find but have to look for anyway.  itâs bone-deep, the habit to look for lies between truths.  no one can be that honest, not without a reason or motive behind it.  and yet, as usual, they find nothing of the sort hiding beneath the surface of reassuring words.  when was the last time someone looked at you so tenderly?  as though you were something worthy of such tenderness?  â rachel, â  name is spoken like a secret, and they blink once to keep at bay anything that threatens to spill over past their words,  â thank you. â
