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Gabriel Edega is a highly intelligent man. There is no academic or medical mystery that he will not uncover. Among his peers he is a paragon of productivity. Some who meet him would testify that his blunt way of speaking suggests a cold interior, devoid of empathy. This is untrue. He simply states the facts as facts. A curiosity for the objective truth does not make him an unfeeling person, it sharpens his mind to be set for future success in an ever improving professional field. Anyone who failed to acknowledge that was not worth his time.
These are the thoughts Gabriel holds himself to, no matter who he encounters.
During his pre-med study, in English class, the room was tasked with partnering with a classmate they hadn't met before. A man named Mark Booker approached him. He was easy to work with, and the pair were able to finish their assignment fairly quickly. From the time they had remaining, they kept up a polite conversation. When the time for the assignment was up and it was acceptable for the partners to part ways, Gabriel did the normal thing; he turned in his seat and awaited further instruction from the professor. Oddly, Booker did not move to his previous seating. It was most likely because he had brought his chair over to Gabriel's side of the long desk; but if he made the effort to get there he could make the effort to leave, couldn't he?
Gabriel scooted over and allowed him to sit in the corner where he just was. Moving his notes and belongings, he excused himself to the young woman who was now seated right next to him, who had turned to work with a student behind them.
The next time class was in session, Booker sat next to him immediately, which he did not mind, being allowed his preferred seating at least.
I must've said something to pique his interest, conversationally. That or he's after my notes. Gabriel thought. Either way, once the course was finished, they would have no reason to pursue each other's company. Even if they were pursuing the same education, the university was big enough for there to be a slim chance of ever seeing each other again.
They saw each other again.
Without coordinating, they end up sharing a good portion of classes together the following semester. Each class, Mark opts to sit close by to Gabriel. When they pass in the hallway, Mark is often the one to wave first, a warm smile on his face, even in the middle of talking to whoever he was with. He seemed to know better than to trap Gabriel in one of those prodding, faux attempts at connections they called small talk when he had somewhere to be at least. Their best conversations were had over study sessions, a thing Gabriel concluded he might as well invite Mark to, though most others did not stay for much longer than two sessions. We must be friends, Gabriel thought, though he would let Mark keep his other friends to himself. They did not have to merge everything about their college lives.
The house party Gabriel had attended was pleasant. It was a celebration between his classmates and a few friends of friends, congratulating them on having gotten through an exceptionally intensive semester with exceptionally high grades; though that was to be expected of a man like Edega. There was a different event the day before celebrating the same achievement. One much bigger, inviting all eligible students within his major, to be on track to graduate with honors. As such, the refreshments were very light, and the ‘party’ was mostly a couple speeches from the seniors and staff.The house party was humble, homey. There wasn't exactly an enforced dress code, but the host encouraged his guests to dress down. Gabriel didn't exactly have anything festive to wear or the desire to buy any. It wasn't a necessity for his degree and, as such, wasn't a priority. He arrived in the university's letter crewneck, given to him at the formal event. A fact Mark teased him for, which was rude, but Gabriel would take it on the chin. Mark was more dressed nicely for a party: he had on stylish pants and a patterned tie over a black button up to match. (Mark confessed later one night that the pants were what he wore to his high school's spring formal, which was… the dorkiest thing he had ever heard. No matter.) As the night at that house progressed, Gabriel allowed himself to really have a good time. He relaxed into pleasantries with a few friends. Quips about this and that over their cans of beer. Gabriel was funny, he was. It came with being so observant. And laughing along to his jokes most reliably was Mark. And he liked it, the sound. He had heard it before, but it was like he couldn't get used to it. The way it spurred on the laughter of the others, as they shared their own jokes and stories and Mark grabbed hold of their arms for gleeful mercy; like it too was the gravitating force of Mark's character, it couldn't help but lighten the room, as he did. At that moment, he wanted only to hear more of it.
Gabriel stared up from his bed late at night at where the ceiling to his dorm room should be. He thought about his academic trajectory. There wasn't much to think about. This was the easy part and he was an unstoppable force. But there was always more to do, as there should be. He would have to apply to internships again very soon if he was going to get into the ever exclusive cardiothoracic programs. The pathway into cardiothoracic surgery was not a clear one, a sign he had found his calling; something to challenge him, something he could pioneer and call his own.
He thought about the people he would be able to help. He thought about the people he would owe his thanks to the moment he was in front of a patient. He thought about the people who would be there with him.
Most of the people he met did not stay in his proximity for long. Gabriel did not mind it, it helped him stay independent. So many of his peers, Gabriel was certain he would never see again. His professors, he was sure to thank as the moment arrived. He passed their class, they wrote his recommendation letters, and then they had no use of each other. His superiors in his internships, he made sure to keep a steady rapport with, but only ever saw temporarily by design.
He thought of Mark. Suddenly Mark was kissing him. He could imagine the scratchy stubble along his jaw and neck and collar bone. Gabriel shivered. Mark was biting him, caressing his fingers into his hair. Mark was grinding against him and Gabriel tensed again and he needed to stop thinking about it. He needed to go to sleep. ‘Mark’ was nothing more than a figment of his wandering imagination, the most reliable face by proxy to put onto this wayward libido of his, and a gross misjudgment of their relationship. Gabriel could snap his fingers and the lucidity would be gone, there would be no sign that Mark had been there to… mark him.
Hmm, not his best joke. He turned over and with time thought of anything else, and let that anything drift into the fuzzy nothing he called slumber.
After a particularly petty argument between the two men some years into knowing each other, their friendship ended temporarily. Despite decidedly being the catalyst for it, Gabriel did not remember what it was he had said (, but he knew it was not a deeply personal matter. Given the nature of the outcome, Gabriel had since classified it as an argument.
The two were in hushed, fragmented conversation, so as not to disturb the rest of the class. Never in distracting length or inappropriate timing, the pair would murmur in the gaps of silence in their lecture classes. Gabriel knew well enough how immature this arrangement looked, and he knew there was little point in stopping. They were bound to talk to one another about any little thing that crossed their minds, sometimes finding ways to connect to their coursework (and those conversations tended to last longer, moving from one topic to the next), but sometimes just for fun.
Whatever it was that made up Gabriel's nonchalant reply seemed to have struck a nerve in his companion. Mark's face, having turned completely away from the lecture to meet Gabriel's, twisted into a kind of shock, or maybe disgust, Gabriel couldn't tell. It could've just been a sour mood. Even Mark, in all his social attractiveness, had those sometimes, and it was a side of him Gabriel felt an almost masochistic pride to witness. Almost, were it not for the fragility of the dawning moment. Right now, he couldn't say he was the fondest of it. Even since losing a bit of his filter when they were together Mark had a habit of hiding his feelings behind courtesies until they reached an unbearable point, a flaw, but it didn't (rightfully, it shouldn't have) ever impede their work, so Gabriel saw no right to nitpick.
Never before had Mark given him the look he was now. Perhaps silently searching for an explanation for how Gabriel could say something so simple and yet so hurtful. Gabriel could not have an answer. Gabriel had his own question running through his head: who did Mark confuse him for?
The moment did not last long. As Mark regained his composure, he got up from his seat with his belongings and moved further back in the classroom. It was slightly awkward and very petty; they were seated fairly in the front of the large lecture hall style room. There was no comment from their occupied professor though, or their classmates, or Gabriel, so sure enough, Mark moved. Gabriel did not personally see him for the rest of that day, not for the rest of their shared classes, not even to study together.
In that time alone, Gabriel was able to get through much more coursework. It was self-gratifying. He had no one to challenge his way of studying, he could finally do away with the 10 minute snack breaks Mark insisted upon in favor of more work. Eventually, Mark returned to his regular seating and came back to study with Gabriel. They settled back into their friendship and then it was like they had never fought. It surely never came up again, though they also didn't broach the topic again either. The voice of Gabriel’s thoughts, with a strangely bitter bite to it given the accuracy of its statement, ultimately had this to say: Mark Booker has been holding you back.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Mark said softly one day when they were both early for class. It broke the silence of the nearly empty room. Gabriel had been in the room two minutes before him, and had wasted no time reviewing his notes. Looking up from his clipboard, he had no words to form a response. Mark had been turned slightly to face him, his own notebook abandoned at some point in the shared study session. As if the sentiment had just dawned on him, or it was the pressing answer to a particularly taxing riddle solved simply in that instant, he smiled a small satisfied smile. As if the words themselves mattered more than the exams they would soon have to ace. Gabriel did not reply. Instead, he turned to mirror Mark's stance and looked into his eyes. If Mark was simply requesting to see him, he could humor that at least. Gabriel did not blink. If he did, it was not out of necessity. It was natural enough to be barely noticeable. Mark did not blink either. His gaze flickered slightly, considering the rest of Gabriel's face, lingering for a moment on his lips, and returned to their supposed fixation. Gabriel did not dare move. Mark broke contact first, only to greet the professor as the bell chimed the hour and the other students shuffled in. Gabriel had no thoughts running through his head.
Dr. Gabriel Edega is a highly intelligent man. It is not a fact he has to flaunt, it is a reputation that precedes him. After graduating, he was fortunate enough to be able to start working immediately at Middlesea Hospital, though much of which should be attributed to his successful planning. He glances at the graduation photo perched on his desk in the records room. It's an awkward photo: his face is obscured by a cap being mid throw. It was still his favorite of the few with him in it. Next to him, their arms around each other, was Mark.