When I’m with you, everything hurts less.The pain eases, swallowed by your light.In your eyes, I’m someone else.
It feels like forever since we last kissed, but I remember your taste clear as day, and I want it again.
At least one more time.
The Doctor decides to come over, and I’ve no choice but to close the book and face it: I want the Doctor, and I don’t want to leave.
He comes into the room with a tray, sits on the bed, and sets it carefully on my lap.
“I might’ve stood up.”
He shrugs.“We’re good here.Remember, you’re naked.”
“Afraid of what’s down here?”
“Afraid you’ll keel over.Your clothes are nearly dry anyway.”
I don’t know if he’s just saying it for the sake of it or if he genuinely can’t wait to see the back of me.That’d be mad, though.I see the way he looks at me — wanting me, holding himself back.Still, I walked out the other night and made it pretty clear I’m not the kind to stay.Then I turned up at the hospital car park and just proved I’m half-cracked.
Maybe what he said is just a handy excuse.Maybe, in his own quiet way, he’s telling me I’m free to go — that I don’t owe him anything, that I don’t have to stick around to prove otherwise.That’d be pure Doctor, that would.
He shifts closer to the tray and settles cross-legged on the bed, searching for a comfortable position.He’s in an old college T-shirt and sweats, barefoot, his hair still damp and messy.There are tired shadows under his eyes that soften the edges of his face.I can’t help wondering if he ever actually gets enough rest — if he ever really switches off, takes even a little time for himself, or if he just keeps going until he finally drops.
I think this is the first time I’ve seen him so much himself — no stiff clothes, no scrubs, none of the sharp jokes or smart defences.
And if I liked him before, well, it’s getting a bit complicated now.
A fucking mess, as Ryan said.
“Are you not eating?”
I shove the thoughts away and pick up the spoon.
“I know it’s only soup, but that’s what you need.Trust me.”
“It’s grand.I just don’t have much of an appetite.”
“You?Not a hope.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have to feed all that you’re carting around with you.”
I laugh.“All this?”
“I’m fairly sure those muscles aren’t made of gummy bears.”
I laugh harder, the tray rattling on my legs.
“Seriously, I gave you enough medicine to knock out a horse.You need your strength back.”
“So you wanted to knock me out and then take advantage of me?”
His brow barely twitches, but the tiny shift sends a spasm through my chest.
“It never even crossed my mind.”The words hit like a final blow.
I don’t answer.I just keep eating, forcing the spoon to my mouth, ignoring the heartburn flaring again — it must be from the meds he gave me or from not having a bite in me all day.
