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𝟗 𝐏𝐌 - 𝐏𝐓𝐌𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐏 - 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
I don't know how I got up here. I honestly don't remember much of today up until the accident. It was so quiet, so painfully fucking quiet. Over a hundred people came in at once, and only six people died. Gloria keeps telling me it's something to be proud of, but I can't stop thinking of Leah. I don't think I ever learned the name of the other five, but Leah? She's haunting me, and she's not even buried yet. She was so young, so lively. She had her whole life ahead of her, and I fucking ruined that. My stethoscope hangs gently over the railing of the roof, as a little parting gift for Abbot. I stand in front of it, my feet barely on the edge. My name tag feels heavy around my throat, "Dr. Michael Robinavitch." I don't deserve the name, I don't even deserve the title of doctor. I've failed too many people, Adamson would be so fucking disappointed, and I don't blame him...I'm a wreck. I hear ugly sobbing, the kind that makes your whole body shake. I barely register that the cries are coming from me. I slide down the roof railing as my sobs grow louder. I grab the back of my head with my hands, pressing my face to my knees. The wind feels so thick, I wish for it to blow me off the edge and onto the thick pavement below. I peek my eyes out, looking down at the bustling streets of Pittsburgh, and I feel my body being pulled to the edge by some essence I can't explain. Just as my hand grips the edge, I hear the door creak open, the light from inside illuminates my pathetic situation, and I watch the shadow of the person at the door freeze behind me.
"Dr. Robby?...."
That voice. Fuck I know that voice anywhere. Not him, why'd it have to be him?!!
" Dr. Robby what are you doing?" I hear the voice getting louder behind me as Whitaker walks closer to where I sit. I don't lift my head from my hands, I can't. Everything hurts, I can still feel the blood on my hands, I can still hear Jake's cries as I told him Leah didn't make it, and I can still see her face, god her fucking face. The way Jake yelled at me and told me it was my fault. I only hate it so much because he's right. I try to clear my throat, wiping the tears from my face, but they continue pouring. This day has become too much, and now my body refuses to cooperate.
"I'm fine."
I croak, my voice cracking from all the crying.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
I can't believe what I'm seeing. Dr. Robby is so close to the edge, was he gonna jump? I can hear him crying despite how he tries to cover it up. I feel my feet rush forward before I register the fact I'm not just walking, I'm sprinting. By the time I'm at the edge, I see it, his stethoscope draped over the railing. My heart skips a beat, holy shit, he's really gonna do this. My face crumbles. I've only known the guy for a day, but I can't watch another person die. Not after Pittfest, not after the man with cardiac arrest. not after the little girl. I slowly climb over the railing to meet him. I slowly lower myself onto the floor next to him. I look over to try to meet his eyes, but his head is buried in his hands. It was so much easier when I had to comfort him during Pittfest. I explained that this hospital needed him and that he couldn't give up on it. How do I explain to him that 𝐼 need him? It's only been fifteen hours knowing him, but I can't fathom the idea of losing him. I try to reach my hand out onto his shoulder, but he quickly shoves it off, and I'm pushed back onto my side. I take that as a sign he needs more space, so I slowly start to scoot away, the distance between us growing.
"No," he blurts.
"Huh?.." I mumble
"Don't leave. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦"
My cheeks flare pink, but I nod. I slowly scoot back over, now closing the distance I'd made mere seconds ago. I look over at him, at a loss for words. Maybe we don't need to talk right now. I exhale, pulling the emergency pack of cigarettes out of my work bag with a lighter. As I do that, I manage to catch a glimpse of my phone, tens of worried messages from Trinity. I click my phone off. Lighting the cigarette, I offer him one. I see him glance up, and my heart skips a beat at what I see. He looks awful. His eyes are red from crying, and he just looks...wrecked. He reaches out to take the cigarette, and our hands brush for a moment too long. He finally leans back against the railing, no longer curled up against himself. I just watched him breathe in the toxins and say nothing. This feels wrong, what I feel feels wrong. Why am I returning to my sinful way of thinking? Pastor taught me to exile these thoughts. For they do not belong in the mind of a god serving man. Why do I continue to feel this way, and now at all times? He's so much older than me, he's my boss, and right now he's one step away from free-falling. Still, my lustful thoughts persist, and I drown them out with a long inhale from my cigarette.
"Thanks, Whitaker."
I look over and see him looking at me. Oh God, those eyes.
"I-I haven't really done anything.." I stutter out, my cheeks getting redder than I thought possible.
"Yeah, but twice today you've helped out of spiralling...You're a good kid."
𝘒𝘪𝘥. That word spins in my head. He thinks of me as his... his 𝘒𝘪𝘥. I nod, giving the best smile I can muster. He thinks of me as his family, yet still, these ungodly thoughts crawl into my head. Pastor would judge, they'd all judge. I wanna rip these thoughts from my mind. It's so wrong. He's so wrong. So, why does he feel so 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵? I sigh louder than I mean to, and I feel him turn to look at me. I don't look at him. I drag my hands over my face, looking at the vast city below us.
"Do you believe in God, Dr. Robby?"
The long silence stretches between us.
"I've always liked the idea, but...After all the shit I've seen, I don't know if I can anymore."
He looks at me, he looks at me, and by God, I want more.
"Do you, Whitaker?"
I nod, resting my chin on my knees, the cigarette blowing foul-smelling smoke into the air. I feel myself finally start to breathe again as he leans back away from the ledge. I want to scream and cry and beg him not to jump, but I just sit there, we just sit there. I feel my eyes burn; I really don't want to cry right now. He needs me, Robby needs me, how could I even think of being so selfish?! My head drops against my knees, the weight of the day pressing on me. A gentle hand wraps around me, and I freeze. His warm arm curls around my back, his hand on my shoulder. The cries of how sinful this is bubble in my throat, but I swallow them. This isn't what god wants. Father would judge me for falling into a man's embrace. a 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 embrace.
I inhale shakily, my fingers curling around myself as I fight the tears. He's so warm, he's so gentle, and for a moment...he's mine.
"I think it's time I return the favor, 𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺."
Just like that, the dam breaks, and I wrap myself around him, my own sobs trembling my body in his grasp. My cries muffle against his chest, but that doesn't stop me. I fully wrap my arms around him, my grip tighter than I want it to be. I hold him like a lifeline as he just sits there, my in his arms.
"It's so wrong..."
"What is?" He mutters in my ear
"Us."
I feel him freeze. My eyes widen. Fuck I ruined it. I ruined it all. He hates me, I hate me. What if he doesn't know what I'm talking about? What if I'm fucking crazy and he never saw me like that? My face crumbles against his shoulder.
"No, wait- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-"
"Shut up, Whitaker."
He takes my face in his hand and pulls me up to look at him. My stomach flutters in my chest, and I grab his wrist. All the prayers, all the Sunday school, everything. It never fixed me; I'm still like this. I still want his lips against mine. I just press my face against his chest, and the tears quickly return.
"Whitaker. Look at me."
I shake my head, the sobs breaking out of my mouth.
"No fucking forget I said anything I-"
"WHITAKER."
I'm finally snapped out of my spiral, and he grabs my face with both hands, forcing my gaze on him. The tears still drop, and I feel awful. Moments ago, he was having a panic attack, begging me to stay. Why did I so selfishly make this about me and my fucked up head? I pull away, wiping my damp cheeks. I want to apologize again, to tell him that I'm the problem, but he cuts me off.
"Dennis, it's okay."
Dennis? Did he just...
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
I grab his face and try to calm down, my problems suddenly feeling a lot less crushing. My face looks angry, frustrated, I can tell. I can't stop it, though. I wipe the remaining tears from his face, grounding him.
"What is wrong. Why does this bother you so much?" I push
I can't help him if I don't understand what's wrong. Hell, that's why I can't help myself. I watch him crumble, the words spilling out of him.
"This is a sin! I-I can't do this, even being around you fills me with sin, and I hate it because I love being with you, I love..." he stops, cutting himself off.
My heart jumps out of my chest, I know exactly what he was about to say, and I want to say it too. I want to tell him how I feel, but fuck is he right about how wrong it is. I'm too old, he has a whole life ahead of him, he doesn't want to be stuck with me, does he?
"This isn't a sin. Dennis, you aren't a bad person. You grew up in a space that shamed you for love, that isn't your fault. None of this is your fault, you're...you're perfect."
I watch his face go red and chuckle softly, wrapping an arm around him and resting my back on the railing. Looking up at the night sky, I feel his head drop onto my shoulder. For a moment, there is no shame, no sins, no fucking self-depricating thoughts, it's just him and me. I don't know what or who we are together, but I like who I am with him more than I like who I am without. His hand curls around mine as he glances up at me. I look down at his eyes, and I could get lost in them.
"Today sucked." He mumbles
I nod, pressing a kiss on his head, smiling gently when his mouth goes agape in shock.
"Maybe, but it was worth it."
I take his chin in my hand and press my lips against his.
He kisses back.