Work Text:
No air traffic tonight.
Harvey sat at his desk with his head laid down in his arms, listening to the empty static that filled his headphones. Luckily, it was Thursday, so he was free for the week. However, since it was close to the end of fall, Harvey had a surplus of appointments he had to go through today that left him exhausted and limp. Unfortunately one of which was Shane, who still wouldn't let Harvey get away with telling him that he needs to stop eating pepper poppers every night while the doctor himself eats processed foods.
Harvey tried to be as sincere and neutral as possible about it. It wasn't so bad until the end of his checkup.
“You look just fine, Shane. Only thing I'd suggest is walking around more outside for more exercise and Vitamin D intake… and your cholesterol is a bit higher than it should be, so I'd suggest… eating greens and… homemade foods more frequently.”
“I'll do that until your kitchen doesn't look like mine, Doctor.”
Yeah, just as expected. Harvey looks up with his eyes at him, frozen mid-writing. “I'm well aware I go to the JojaMart often to get quick foods. However, I get my produce from Pierre's.”
“The amount of meals you buy suggests otherwise. Also, look at you.” He gestures to Harvey’s body with his hand, “last I checked, that's not the body of a ‘healthy person.’”
Harvey inhales sharply and stops his writing. That hit a nerve. He was trying his best, he thought. Even then, he should take what Shane says with a grain of salt because Harvey knows that a healthy body can look like his. Not every healthy body had to be thin, and even then, just because a body was slim doesn't mean it was healthy. Or maybe, he was even unhealthier than he realized, and that's why people trusted him less. Did they trust him less? Was he even a good doctor?
He couldn't spiral. What was he doing? Shane. His diet. Most likely, Shane isn't eating good enough because he couldn't afford it, like Harvey himself. A better option would be to prescribe him statins for the time being. Harvey scribbled down something on his paper, before looking back up at Shane. “I think our best bet is to prescribe you something. I'm prescribing you lovastatin in order to slow your production of cholesterol. I'd have to see you in a few weeks though, to check if you have any side effects lowering your quality of life.” Harvey writes down the name and time to pick it up, then rips it off the clipboard to give it to him.
“All this nerd talk over here,” Shane looks at the paper and groans, “You realize this is completely unnecessary, right?”
“Shane, I'm a doctor. All of this is necessary.” His voice was starting to go monotone, before looking up at Shane and sounding genuinely concerned, “This is such a small town and I care about everyone's health here. The small population allows me to really think about your quality of life.”
“You surely don't think about yours. Fine, I'll see you in a week for the stupid pills.” Shane then gets up and leaves through the door, before slamming it hard enough to make Harvey flinch. He checked his schedule. He was the last one, which relieved him a bit, before the spiraling started to continue.
He wasn't a good doctor if he didn't follow his own advice. Problem is, Harvey can't even prescribe himself the medication he needs. He needed his own doctor, since he found out the medications he needed most were controlled, and the closest doctor was all the way out in Zuzu City.
It wasn't his fault he had no kitchen, a lack of money. He sat upstairs, still listening to the static, before feeling his stomach grumble. Did he ever eat lunch? He got up and checked his fridge. The pre-packaged spaghetti looked so delicious right now…
‘I'll listen to you until your kitchen doesn't look like mine, Doctor.’
He stared at the food for a bit longer, before letting the guilt settle into his stomach and closing the fridge, walking over to his dining room table to lay his head down. Maybe he shouldn't eat. Maybe he should try to lose weight that way and–
*Get a hold of yourself, Harvey. This is exactly how eating disorders start.*
And he knew, from treating the poor patients who had to deal with them, that they were incredibly hard to break out of. That's the last thing he needs to be dealing with right now.
But what does he eat? If he eats the spaghetti, he'll continue being a hypocritical doctor. If he doesn't, it'll only feed into his insecurities. He thought of going to the Stardrop Saloon, before looking at his wallet and realizing he doesn't have enough to get food from Gus. He gets back up and opens the fridge again, before finding some leftover pickles gifted from the farmer. Well, those were locally grown and not processed, so he took out three and put them on a paper towel, before putting the jar away and sitting back down at the table, taking one slowly and eating it. They were crunchy and delicious, and silenced his thoughts for a quick moment as he hummed in satisfaction.
Three pickles wasn't a proper dinner, he reminded himself. But right now, ‘proper dinner’ didn't register to him. He doesn't feel like cracking out the wine tonight, either. He's feeling too… negative. A negative that one can't run away from. One that makes him feel like everything he does is wrong. It leaves him sitting at the dining room table, staring at the model airplane he has unfinished. He could continue working on it, but the thought of it felt agonizing, which was odd considering airplane modeling was his go-to escape method. He felt trapped. He didn't feel like breaking into tears, but something rotten definitely settled in his stomach. Shame, frustration, depression. He looked at his body and realized his stomach and triceps were larger and softer than he expected. Was he actually losing muscle?
That's it. He needs to head to sleep. He can't be stressing himself out even more. He finally stands up, throwing away the paper towel and turning off the lights, before laying in his bed, not even bothering to change. He didn't care that it was 7pm. He couldn't do anything. Not anything for himself, not anything at all. All he could hope to do is let the guilt and dread settle until he falls asleep.
***
He jolted awake at the sound of a slam on the door. He thought it was from his dream at first, but another series of knocks from downstairs proved him otherwise. He quickly dashed downstairs, almost slipping a few times, and ran to the clinic door.
“Hang on, hang on, give me a sec!”
Out of breath, he finally opens the door in a rush, barely standing up and catching his breath, before standing straight and looking terrified to see the farmer covered in scrapes and splinters. Harvey knew exactly why she was here.
“Hazel I can't keep patching you up past bedtime, you know that!” He ended up sounding a bit more agitated than intended, but he simply sighed and stepped out the way for Hazel to walk in. “In the examination room, I'll patch you up in no time. I wish you would avoid the mines more often. It goes south quickly down there.”
Harvey could see in her eyes that she truly felt bad. Really bad. “I'll get out of your hair soon, I know you kept telling me to avoid the mines but really I need more iron and both Marlon and Demetrius needed some monsters slain and–”
“Calm yourself, Hazel. I'm used to this,” his voice sounded flat; hopefully Hazel didn't perceive his tone wrong. If anything, Harvey is pretty happy Hazel stopped by, even if her reason to visit wasn't his favorite reason to get out of bed at midnight. He could use some gentle company for once, and Hazel has always been so sweet and caring to him. Giving him gifts twice a week, checking up on him, gossiping. She was a breath of fresh air. Harvey closed the door and turned around to find Hazel standing in the middle of the waiting room, looking Harvey down. Harvey blushed at first, before he realized she was looking concerned for the condition he was in; messy hair, dirty disheveled work clothes, coffee stains. Harvey looked down in harsh embarrassment and slight shame.
“I apologize if I'm not looking my best right now.” He scratched the back of his head, unable to look her in the eyes. He told her to sit on the table as he gathered tweezers, bandages, cotton swabs, and iodine for her injuries. He kept letting out small sighs, subconsciously, as he worked on Hazel's wounds. Hazel let out a discomforted grunt as he pried a large splinter out, in which Harvey rubbed her hand.
“Sorry, sorry, I'm trying to make it as quick as possible.”
The next few minutes were of uncomfortable silence. Harvey sensed Hazel wanted to ask about his state, and soon enough, the topic was brought up.
“Rough day today?” Hazel's voice was soft and caring, but Harvey still didn't want to talk about it.
“Busy day. Too busy. As shown.” Harvey didn't look up at her. He was fully concentrated on his work.
“... did you at least eat today?”
Harvey stopped rubbing the iodine. He froze completely, but his face was a dead giveaway of the guilt he was feeling right now. Goddamn it, now if he didn't eat, Hazel would be up his ass about it. It felt like anything Harvey did was wrong.
“A coffee and three pickles,” he continued his business.
Luckily Hazel stayed silent after that. He was sick and tired of the comments from other people that he was neglecting himself (which is, to an extent true, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it) and that he needed to do better. Captain obvious on that one. It always made him feel worse. However after he patched up Hazel and washed all his equipment, she stirred conversation again.
“It's very cold in the cabin. I have some cozy pajamas and thick comforters… would you like to walk back to the farm with me after this? I have some leftover pumpkin soup I can heat up.”
Harvey felt like he couldn't move. His stomach felt odd. For one, he's been wanting to sleep over at the cabin for so long. It was spacious and cold and fresh in comparison to his stuffy apartment. However, she may only be offering just to recognize he's looking rough just to make him feel better and she's really hoping he denies—
“I'll go.”
To his surprise, Hazel looked excited. Did she really mean it?
Despite the doubt, he could clearly see her face lit up, and she held a hand out to take his, and before he knew it, he was walking out the clinic with Hazel pulling him along, down the bus stop with the cool autumn breeze. The yellow streetlights sure brought out the autumn colors in the trees. Despite his negative feelings still sitting in his stomach, he felt at peace for the time being.
Of course, as Harvey was trying to enjoy the autumn night, Hazel had to dig and find out what's making him so stressed.
“I know you're often stressed, but today… really seemed like it hit you hard. Something bothering you?”
No shit Hazel, I had the worst work day since no one was taking me seriously. In addition, my last patient was going really hard into making me feel terrible about myself for no reason. Now I feel like I can't eat anything, otherwise I'll think I'm not a real doctor and that I'm only hurting Pelican Town. That's what he wanted to tell her, anyway, but that didn't feel right, to dump that on her. His own problems should be kept to himself, because if he feels terrible, he can't imagine what projecting it on other people would do not just to him but to them.
In the end, he shook his head and tried to crack a small smile. “Just rough. More than I can deal with. Bad day is all.” but she seemed skeptical. Skeptical and… sad? Pitiful? The cold was starting to get to Harvey. Ah, he forgot to get his jacket. Now he was cold in some thin, dirty work clothes. He shivered and rubbed his arms, falling back from Hazel as he huffs into his hands and warms them up.
But soon enough, they made it to the farm, which never failed to amaze Harvey. The place was full of pumpkins (it was pumpkin patch season!) and a few barns and coops lined towards the back of the farm, each kept with iron fences and lots of grass. She also added some very nice lamps, giving the farm a cozy glow. Last time he was here, he remembered it looking super run down, he didn't even think it could be revamped.
Good golly, Hazel. I'm impressed.
She walked up the hardwood porch and took out her key, fidgeting with the lock before opening the door to her cabin. Outside was a bit rough, but the inside looked like the homiest home Harvey has ever seen. He was definitely jealous of her large, cozy bed. The place was so spacious and rustic. The fireplace was still going, and the temperature was comfortable but just cool and crisp enough to snuggle under some blankets. This is definitely his dream home.
*If only I could have her.*
Well, there wasn't much evidence on why she wouldn't like him, but there's also not much evidence on why she would. They've been good friends for two years at this point, but there's no denying there have been feelings brewing in his stomach ever since they met. He's just a coward, and unfortunately ashamed of himself.
“I have some wine in the fridge.” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “it's definitely too late for coffee, and that's coming from the person who isn't a doctor.” She laughed to herself as she pulled out a half-full bottle of starfruit wine. There's no way she's casually dropping the finest wine on him, is she?
Well, there's no way he'll say no. Or is that the right response? Pierre told him a bottle could go for thousands of gold!
“No thanks, I'm good,” Harvey smiled awkwardly as he denied it, part of him craving Hazel's– the Farmer's!– home brewed wine but knowing he was in her house was probably enough. He doesn't want to use her just for some fancy, expensive wine… he can barely afford it. Already he doesn't know why Hazel brought him to the cabin.
Yet, Hazel looked concerned and poured yet another glass, putting it on the coffee table in front of him. “That's odd. You never turn down a glass of wine. Something really is bothering you, isn't it?” She then sits down next to him, waiting for an answer, eager to listen. Oh, she doesn't deserve this! To hear about his self-consuming insecurities, his student debt, his lack of patients…
His breath hitched as he felt her hand gently take his. He can see, over to his side, she looks even more concerned, more open, more… caring? Loving? And yet, by reflex, he pulls his hand back, eyes wide, and face red.
He then sees her surprise. She looks confused and a tad bit hurt. Or was it pity? She then nods and gets up, walking to her kitchen. Harvey immediately realized the effects of his actions and shot up from the couch.
“Oh, Hazel! That wasn't my– oh… I'm sorry– I– I don't know what happened there. Please, don't think I'm coming off as rude! Your hospitality means everything to me! “ he suddenly sounded desperate, like she was going to kick him out into the bitter cold and his tight, dirty work clothes. He watches as she takes out a pot from the fridge and heats it up. Yet, not a single word from her.
“You want to know why I'm like this?! It was terrible today! I already struggle to afford the food I recommend to my patients due to my loans and empty appointment slots, so I have no choice but to buy cheap food from JojaMart, and people constantly criticize me for it! Either for me supporting an evil corporation, which I'm aware of, I've heard your stories, or that I'm slowly killing my body while I tell others to eat their greens–” Now Harvey feels his throat start to close, “I'm a hypocrite, Hazel! Everyone thinks I'm such a hypocritical doctor, that I'm unreliable, that I'm not trustworthy, and it's all because I survive paycheck by paycheck, where most of my fresh food comes from your gifts and offerings and the rest… the…”
Suddenly that rotten feeling in his stomach is starting to puke itself out, as Harvey breaks down into tears and choked sobs, sitting back down and burying his face in his hands. As he mutters and sobs to himself about his self worth, he hears a spoon be put down and a lid covering the pot. After a minute, he feels a warm arm wrap around his shoulders as he's pulled into Hazel's embrace, snuggled up against her. His sobs are suddenly cut by confusion, and he hiccups and curls in on himself.
“Harvey, if you've been struggling with affording food, you could've told me. Yoba, you could've told Gus! He hates to see people go hungry. He'll cook you a fresh meal any time.” Her words are so soft and sweet… too reassuring, right? “Also, you're not a bad person for eating what you can afford. You're not evil, you're not killing your body, you're simply getting what you can afford. Also, those foods aren't as bad as people make it out to be. You're fine, Harvey.”
Harvey wipes his nose and sniffles.
“Wouldn't that make me a burden? To constantly beg for food? To be desperately clingy to my money?”
Hazel sighs, then speaks yet again, still in that warm tone. “If you're worried about Gus, don't worry about me. The cabin is always open. At any time do you need to use my produce or need some fresh air, this place can be your home. Your… second home.”
Harvey calms down, but now he feels both excited and skeptical. That was, until she gave him a bowl of her pumpkin soup, then rubbed his head. He could hardly believe it.
He then hears her light-hearted chuckle. “Also, three pickles? Were those from me?”
Harvey cringed, but then smiled and nodded, finally looking up at her. “They're so tasty! You have to teach me how to pickle. I've, um… never been great at it. The best thing to compare my last attempt to was the smell of dissecting a frog in my biology class.”
Hazel looked mildly disgusted, then busted out laughing, which made Harvey a bit happier. She then pats his back, “I can assure you, that won't happen again. Now eat up. Your stomach wants real food.”
The soup smelled delicious. Harvey then picks up the spoon and takes a small spoonful of the soup, tasting it. And oh my, this had to be the best thing he's eaten yet. It's rich, nutty, savory… hearty, too. He then smiles and devours it, sip after sip, and before he knows it, he's asking for seconds.
“Don't eat too quickly, you'll get a tummy ache! I can't believe I'm telling my doctor that!”
Harvey laughs, genuinely, as he is given another bowl. He loves her presence. Now, he starts sipping at his wine, savoring the taste. He's never been happier in his life.
“Oh my… I see why this wine is easily worth thousands of gold…”
As the night grows, he feels accustomed to Hazel's presence, commenting on her cooking skills, her hospitality, her farm in general. Before he knows it, he's changed from his tight work clothes into cozy pajamas, and he falls asleep in her bed, in her arms, feeling more loved than ever.