Chapter Text
Sou
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Sterling Heights is known as one of the most prestigious hospitals in Chicago. Its service, employees, and even architecture are spoken with a kind of strange reverence. Only the best of the best are hired.
I know this, because I work there. And I also know I’m running late.
I weave through the stubborn crowds, the skyscrapers towering like stoic specters above us, and glance at my watch. 9:10. Time is slipping away. I sigh, adjust my glasses, and walk faster.
They say time flies when you’re having fun, but it also goes vise-versa. I can confirm; standing in a crowded subway with multiple crying babies is not my favorite pastime. I swear those 10 minutes felt like 2 entire lifetimes. I tried to focus and do something productive, but my brain was not cooperating, and I ran my hand through my hair restlessly.
The transfer didn’t help.
I’d been moved from the isolation labs to the long-term patient unit. Temporarily, they’d said, more than once. Officially, they were short a nurse. Someone needed to fill in. Unofficially, I knew better. This wasn’t about staffing. It was a test.
They wanted to see if I could handle the chaos. The noise, the pressure, the constant back-and-forth. The isolation labs were controlled, predictable. Long-term patients… aren’t.
Obviously, I can handle it. I’m not about to just quit on the spot. But holy hell, I’m not going to enjoy it.
The hospital was quiet when I walked in. Like calm before the storm. Betty, my work acquaintance and the only sane person here, falls into step with me as I stride to the hallway. She was always put together.
Today, her bleached hair is slicked into a perfect, symmetrical bun, and her choice of earrings are two pink bedazzled watermelons. Her black heels clicked against the floor as she moved to grasp a clipboard from the counter across from her. She glanced at it and paled, immediately screeching to a halt.
“Sou,” she started carefully, “I’m… not sure how to tell you this.”
She paused. Perhaps for dramatic effect.
“…you’re assigned to take care of… Rin.”
Rin. I try to place the name, but fall short. My brow furrows, and I move to take the clipboard from her.
His file was hard to read. This man has made 6 nurses and 5 doctors quit. Single-handedly. And under a week, I might add. I exhale sharply through my nose, and move to read the notes scribbled in the margins.
The last doctor to quit wrote, “He’s the most sharp young man I’ve ever met. And the most infuriating.”
He’s tried to escape 3 times. And has almost been successful.
I think I’m just realizing how hard this is going to be.
“How long is the transfer?” I grit out.
“Sou—“
“How long is it.” It wasn’t a question.
“…A month,” Betty said finally, her amber eyes unable to meet mine.
I sigh, dragging my hand over my face. “Fine. Yes. I’ll… make my way over to his—“
BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEP.
The staff call button was rarely used by the patients; most preferred to just ask, so hearing the noise was intriguing, if a bit unsettling. I briefly wonder which patient could be calling us.
A nurse ran into the hallway Betty and I were standing in, stopping when she saw me and pausing to pant, hands braced onto her knees.
“Dr. Nakamura,” she breathes, gazing up at me through her lashes, “He—Rin— won’t accept anyone but you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And… why is that?”
She just grimaces, shaking her head. “I have no clue, but it seems like it’s an emergency.”
Judging by his file, I can almost predict that it most certainly will not be. My jaw tightens. I brush past her, Rin’s room appearing closer with each stride. My fingers curl around the doorknob and I open the door.
The first thing I notice is the paper, intricately folded and cut into towering buildings. Upon closer inspection, I realize each one is created from his own get-well cards, the messages cut-off but readable. I walk closer, careful to not knock over any of the buildings, and my breath hitches as I finally see him.
His eyes are strikingly heterochromatic, one eye an olive green, the other a warm hazel; almost gold. His skin is a flawless tan, his face clean-shaven. A scar bisects his left eyebrow, and another thin scar sits below his right eye. They didn’t take away from his appearance— if anything, they only seem to enhance his rugged charm. His silky black hair is wavy, resting across his forehead, just messy enough to be charming. A faint smirk plays across his full lips as he rests his chin on his palm.
“Hey doc,” he says slowly, drawing out the words deliberately. I couldn’t place his accent. Slightly southern— but he doesn’t look that way.
As much as he is… erm, handsome, I can’t afford to lose anytime here. He’s clearly not having an emergency, and the button is strictly only used for… emergencies. Obviously. I run my hand through my hair again, messing up the once perfectly styled strands.
“May I ask what the problem is?” I ask, careful to keep my expression neutral.
“Nothin’,” he said, leaning back, then spreading his muscular arms to gesture to the paper towers surrounding us. “Wanted to see if you liked my… art project.”
My eyes flicked to the surroundings again. He’s received so many cards… each tower is so detailed, it almost makes me dizzy. Who in their right mind spends hours constructing paper towers that are so easy to knock down anyway? Isn’t he afraid?
“It certainly is impressive, but not an emergency,” I say coolly. “The patients here all need to be taken care of. I was heading to your room anyhow.”
“Oh really?” he drawls, tilting his head. “Well, I suppose no time was wasted then.”
He has a point. And I’m going to ignore that.
“Is there anything you need besides… this?”
“Nah. You can leave if you want. Or stay. I don’t mind,” he said, grinning.
I adjust my glasses and straighten up, sighing softly. “I should get going. You can… finish whatever you’re doing.”
“Mhm,” he hums, his smirk only seeming to widen.
“See you later. And hey…”
I pause, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.
“Try not to get too attached, doc. People don’t usually stay too long around me.”
…