kindred spirit

Morning routine ☀️

@thepittmonth Relationships, Friendships, & Dynamics Langdon & Ellis: "the day shift-night shift version of each other."

MEL KING

It’s dumb, but Frank’s kinda embarrassed about having asthma. 

He knows it doesn’t actually correlate with being a dweeb—he’s a doctor, thank you—but he’s never shaken off the laughter of other boys when teachers checked that he had his inhaler, their judgment when he huddled in the corner to puff into it.

Frank wouldn’t be Frank if he wasn’t motivated by spite, though, so he joined cross country and got a scholarship and ran three marathons before graduating med school. He qualified for Boston, bitches. 

Abby always wanted a cigarette when she drank. She’d slip out of parties with a sorority sister or three, a coy glance over her shoulder, and he’d play it off, saying he didn’t like the smell. When they learned about Tanner, Frank couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that he was no longer left behind, watching her laugh with her friends through a pane of glass.

When he gets back, he feels like he’s one wrong move from getting kicked out on his ass—except when he steals a minute with Mel. He didn’t hang out in the ambulance bay before, so he never noticed how many smokers go out there until he faced the choice between risking an attack and spending time with her. He starts carrying around his inhaler.

When he sees the seven-year-old boy staring at the shiny new inhaler in his hand like it’s a death sentence, not the lifesaver that it is, he tells him, “It’ll be ok, bud. I was diagnosed with asthma when I was your age, and I’m training for my sixth marathon.”

He digs his own inhaler out with a flourish. The kid blinks up at him with stars in his eyes. 

He joins Mel in the ambulance bay later, ignoring how her smile warms his whole body. When the new PA and Jesse pop outside, a pack of Marlboros in hand, he knows he needs to head back. He’s about to make his excuse when Mel’s voice cuts through the air.

“Hey, could you guys go somewhere else? This whole area is supposed to be smoke-free.”

Jesse nods, an apology quick on his lips, the PA shrugs, and they amble further down the driveway. Mel watches them with a frown.

“I hope that wasn’t rude. It’s just—you shouldn’t have to go inside because of them, right? And it stresses me out to see healthcare workers smoking outside of hospitals, since it sends mixed messages to patients—why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says, swallowing. “Thanks. I’ve never had someone, uh, do that for me.”

Mel smiles.

“Of course, Frank. I wish you’d told me earlier. Becca has asthma, too, so I’m used to asking smokers to move.”

“Thanks, Mel.”