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“Call a therapist”. The precision of the cut Yolanda absolutely meant to make but surely didn’t aim for such depth – was another thing to think right after the memory of Langdon’s voice daring to utter; “I’d be happy to teach Dr. Santos” and Garcia not even blinking when –
Picking up the phone and saying, “No”, when Yolanda asked to swing by for the evening; was the easiest thing Trinity had done all week.
But following up with, “I think we’re done”, had choked the oxygen out.
She didn’t catch the flutter of Yolanda’s breathing; too busy trying to fight her way out the window to sit on the hot metal of the fire escape and try to suck in a clear inhale. She did catch the precise delivery of a “cool, thanks for the heads up”, before Garcia hanged up the phone.
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Trinity never expected her apartment to have a steady, rotating population of med students.
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Bookmarked by thatgayrouge
13 Apr 2026
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Trinity thinks that might be the end of it, and she turns her head—ready to mutter out a goodnight, go collapse in bed, contemplate the terrible decision that landed her in this awkward predicament.
A terrible decision she’d make all over again.
Fucking damn it…
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Bookmarked by thatgayrouge
18 Mar 2026
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The cold hits them the moment the restaurant door swings shut. One second, Trinity is laughing, her breath warm in her chest, growing into a bubble of happiness she's keeping unexamined. The next, winter is clawing its way under her coat and down through the gap where her scarf isn't tucked in properly. The sidewalk is a patchwork of yellowing snow, blackened slush, and slick, glassy stretches where the city never quite got enough salt down.
Yolanda shifts automatically closer, like their bodies are homing beacons to each other. Her arm brushes Trinity's as they walk, a cautious nudge every couple of steps. "I told you to wear a thicker coat," she says when she catches the way Trinity immediately shudders against a gust of cold air.
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A series of unfortunate events that ultimately land Trinity Santos a girlfriend
Bookmarked by thatgayrouge
15 Mar 2026
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"Why don't you go shower while I get dinner started?"
Trinity's mouth opens and for a brief second, nothing comes out. It's not that she doesn't have words. She has too many words, stacked in her throat like plates she's afraid to drop—a series of things she would love to vomit at Yolanda's feet, purging them from her body so that she doesn't have to carry them around anymore. But that's not what she asked. Trinity swallows hard, choking down her desire to be difficult. Now is not the time for complaints. Instead, she forces a weary smile, and hedges, "You don't have to do that."
Bookmarked by thatgayrouge
11 Mar 2026
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Santos holds up her hands and shakes her head and takes another step back. “I haven’t spoken to your wife,” she emphasizes. “All I know is you hurt your head. Just—please try to calm down, sir, we’re going as fast as we—”
“That’s bullshit,” he snaps. “I didn’t do anything. She’s lying.”
He’s getting way too close and the adrenaline has Santos stammering around words she hasn’t come up with yet—
“I’ll be right back,” she blurts and turns around—
A strong hand clamps around her wrist and pulls—
“Let go of me,” Santos demands as she reaches for the privacy curtain—
Series
- Part 3 of Whumptos
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Bookmarked by thatgayrouge
07 Mar 2026