Archive of Our Own

“Vitals are in order.” Chishiya pulls his stethoscope back. “The surgery will proceed as planned.” For once, the words highly likely to be a lie feel stilted on his tongue.

You’re standing next to your sister’s hospital bed, letting out a sigh to relieve some of the tension that’s clearly keeping you hostage.

“Thank you, doctor.” Chishiya’s bow is expected, and he waits for you to politely bow back so he can turn around and leave.

Your sister is the first patient he has had since he’s returned from his own hospitalisation. 

The first patient since his heart has stopped. Since he’s been feeling… off.

You’re poor. He does not judge, but after the meteorite, there are a lot of people in need of transplants.

Which should include some who do have money. Or who have connections to important hospital staff. He’s surprised his superior hasn’t given him another letter yet.

Before, he would not have given the bribes any thought. But now?

For some reason, the kid’s face stays stuck in his mind.

Your face stays stuck in his mind.

It’s tired, bags under your eyes and a dulled look that tries to pretend to be cheerful for the sake of your sister.

Her parents died in the impact. The doctor, who was originally on your sister’s case, had told him. She only has her older sister. 

What an unfair world. The kid’s heart stopped just like his own, but he doesn’t need a heart transplant to prevent it from stopping again.

“Dr. Chishiya?”

Your hurried footsteps catch up with him in the hallway, your voice lowered, likely so your sister won’t hear.

“Yes?” He stops, turning to look at you. 

You hesitate before asking, but there’s a determination on your face, and you drop the politeness you’d been wearing earlier. “You seem like you can be brutally honest, doctor.” The corners of his lips move up the slightest. Most would mean that as an insult. You do not. “I don’t need false hope. What are my sister’s chances?”

The correct thing to do here is to soothe your worries while making sure you understand there is a reasonable chance it could go wrong. “Without the planned heart transplant, she does not have long.” Chishiya says instead. “I’m an excellent surgeon and the hospital has 91% success rate in similar procedures. If her body accepts the new organ her chances of survival are high. There is currently no reason to postpone the surgery, so she only has to ‘make it’ a few more days.”

Nevertheless, his words do seem to reassure you. Just a bit. You might have taken any placations the wrong way, he realises. He wonders if your parents died in the impact or in the hospital. Did people try to assure you there was a chance they’d make it? You seem to have trouble believing your sister will survive. Understandable, after your recent loss.

Then you tilt your head. “And the chance that the surgery is postponed?”

Here he should lie. The hospital’s acceptance of bribes to quicken certain people’s wait isn’t legal. He’s lied countless times before.

But, despite your words, despite your pessimism, there is this small, desperate, hope in your eyes. Worse, there is trust. In him. That he’ll do his best.

He didn’t care in the past. So why does it make him reckless now?

“It depends on whether someone else is moved up the transplant list.” He bluntly says. “You have neither the money nor the connections to prevent that.” If anyone overheard them, if you would tell anyone he’d said that, he could be in serious trouble.

Has his own experience with death changed him that much?

You blink, startled by his words. That small flicker of hope grows even dimmer as you run your hand through your hair in frustration. “Right. Corruption. Even in healthcare. At least you’re honest. Thank you, doctor.”

Your bow is more forced than the last one, and you quickly retreat back to your sister.

His eyes stay on your form until he has to force himself to look away.

There certainly is something off about him. He’d never had problems with playing the perfect doctor before. The closest he’s done to risk his job would be throwing away a dying man’s letter, but that’d get him a reprimand at most.

Did his cardiac arrest change him that much?

Intriguing. He remembers the words he exchanged with his burned neighbour. Chishiya had said he’s planning to stop wasting his life.

Hmm.

He’ll see where this new experience takes him.

It’s the day before your sister’s surgery that his superior approached him. Chishiya recognises his grim posture immediately, even if the man’s face is carefully schooled neutral.

There are no words spoken as he hands Chishiya the letter proclaiming your sister’s doom. Chishiya, well trained, simply puts it in his pocket.

Strange, it seems to weigh more than normal.

It’s a few hours before he approaches you, as he’s learned that you’ll come by in the evening after your own job. You’re sitting next to your sister’s bed, reading aloud from a book he does not recognise.

So close to the cancelled surgery, that flicker of hope has grown a bit.

Why does he hate the thought of extinguishing it?

“Doctor?” You ask tentatively, putting the book aside. “Is there anything you need?”

But Dr. Chishiya Shuntaro does not have a choice. He’d known that from the very first letter he received, the first preventable death on his hands.

His superior wants his hands off this business as much as possible, so all of it falls to Chishiya. It falls on Chishiya to reschedule. It falls on him to inform the nurses and doctors involved that there will be a different patient on the operation table. 

It falls on Chishiya to inform the patient and their loved ones their surgery will be rescheduled.

The hospital trusts him that much. Why shouldn’t they? Chishiya Shuntaro is well known to be heartless, just like his parents.

His superior stopped checking whether he obeyed after the third letter.

“Just a routine check-up.” He gets his stethoscope out to needlessly listen to your sister’s heart.

Chishiya Shuntaro does have a choice. He’s just never cared for the consequences before.

As he walks out into the hallway, he takes the letter out of his pocket. He reads it once, thoroughly, and then crumbles it between his hands, tossing it into a nearby trashcan.

It’s not like he’s ever actually cared about his medical license.

You’re standing in the hallway, watching his nurses wheel your sister away to the operation room.

You’re clearly nervous. You’ve just lost your parents, and you only have a sister two decades younger than you left. Still, you give him a nervous smile when your eyes lock.

He’s likely losing his medical license for you. He gives you a confident nod. Far from anything actually comforting, but comforting is not in Chishiya’s nature. Even just this small gesture feels awkward.

If anyone on his team notices how his eyes keep assessing their surroundings, none say so. But his superior’s guilt prevents the man from being around anything to do with the bribes, and your sister reaches the operation room undeterred.

Yet it’s only when his scalpel sinks into flesh that he knows he has succeeded.

Obviously he has succeeded. He is Chishiya Shuntaro, and he’d put measures in place to prevent the wrong people from learning of his disobedience. 

His plans never fail.

But all of that sinks to the back of his head as he focuses on the body beneath his scalpel.

Even he has to put his complete focus on the surgery.

It’s long and gruelling, like all surgeries are. But it’s successful.

While complications could still arise, your sister has her new heart. She’s likely to survive.

For the first time, his eyes go towards the huge window looking into the room. His superior is standing there, eyes locked firmly on Chishiya.

And oh, doesn’t he look furious?

Beneath his mask, Chishiya smirks.

He calmly takes off his surgery attire before making it out of the room.

“Dr. Chishiya.” He’s immediately apprehended by the man. “Please come with me.”

They walk past the nurse informing you of the surgery's success. Tears are streaming on your face as you thank the nurse again and again and again, so filled with joy that you don’t notice him.

His superior puts energy in keeping his eyes strictly away from you. But Chishiya?

The sight of you so happy fills his chest with an unfamiliar feeling.

It’s not unpleasant.

The meeting that follows is under the table and rough. Chishiya sits unmoving in the chair opposite of his superior and the director of the hospital, both absolutely fuming.

He’s sure his small smirk does not help.

Their angry words bore him. Drivel about reputation, trust and reliability.

And, above all, about money.

How they need the bribes. How the hospital would fall without them.

All so hypocritical.

It ignores completely how they’re a big hospital in Tokyo. How more money might mean more top-notch equipment, but that the hospital doesn’t need it.

How pathetic their reasons to choose the rich over the poor are. 

He does keep his medical license. It was easy: He just had to remind the two men across from him of the legality of their demands.

More specifically, the proof that Chishiya has of their past actions. They never did ask for those letters back.

He feels strangely light as he walks out of the hospital, his job lost. 

Is this what it means to stop wasting his life? Maybe he should bring the knowledge of the hospital’s corruption to light.

If only because it’d be mildly entertaining to see his former bosses squirm.

Later, the silence of his apartment is interrupted by the very rare occurrence of his phone dinging.

It’s the first message he’s been sent from that particular phone number. Chishiya ignores his father calling him a disgrace.

He might’ve disobeyed the hospital a lot earlier if he’d known it would finally bring his father’s attention, even if only for a single message.

Strangely, his mind often wanders back to you and your sister during the next week. Your sister isn’t his patient anymore, so he expected to leave the two of you behind like all others.

Maybe it’s just that he does not like not knowing how the healing process went. Whether your sister’s body rejected the new organ bestowed on it.

That answer is more likely than the alternative.

It’s when he’s walking along a street, musing whether to use his contacts to inform him about your sister, that a familiar voice calls out to him. “Dr. Chishiya!” He turns around to see you, hurrying to catch up with him. “I haven’t seen you since before the surgery.” You explain, your face genuinely grateful. “I wanted to thank you. Your work saved my sister.”

You don’t know the half of it. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes lingering on that grateful look.

He’s seen it many times before on many close ones of his patients. Never once has he lingered to consider it.

“It was my-” He stops his sentence halfway through. There is no reason to don the mask of a polite doctor. 

“I didn’t do it for her.” He settles on instead. The truth earns him a laugh. Your demeanor is very different from before. He supposes that’s reasonable for someone who mistakingly assumed their sister would die.

“Let me thank you properly. Have you had lunch yet? My treat.”

No. Absolutely not. You have nothing to offer him, and Chishiya does not waste time on people without reason.

Yet there is something about that look on your face. It’s not only gratefulness. You clearly think highly of him. That trust is still there. Despite his curt, dismissive attitude.

It’s likely the cardiac arrest that made him treat your sister’s case differently. But you do seem stuck in his mind.

“Lead the way.” He shrugs instead, deciding to follow that unfamiliar direction once more.

It doesn’t escape him how you choose the cheapest option on the menu. He himself picks the meal he prefers, of course. “Can I ask why I haven’t seen you ever since the surgery took place?”

“I was fired.” Chishiya shrugs. No reason to lie.

Immediately, your face turns indignant. 

Endearing.

Where did that thought come from?

“Ridiculous. You’re a great doctor.” You rage.

Chishiya can feel the corners of his lip tick up. “I am. Yet I disobeyed a direct order.”

That stops whatever words you were about to spew out next, leaving you frowning. “What order?

There are a ton of reasons as to why telling you would be idiotic. But he’s on this path now. “The one dooming your sister.”

You still. “…You mentioned the possibility of others moving up the list.” 

“Yes. The grandson of a big sponsor of the hospital was in need of a heart transplant." Chishiya takes a sip of the coffee that just arrived. “Another victim of the meteorite. Although he realistically had the time to wait a bit more.”

You remain silent as you let it sink in. “…You said she wouldn’t have made it if the surgery was postponed. The hospital would have killed her.”

Technically, they would have let her die, not killed her, but that doesn’t refute your point so Chishiya doesn’t correct you. 

“…So if you didn’t do it for her, then why?” You sound more crestfallen now, although that trust in him is still there. How curious.

Once again, he decides to be honest. Just because he’s interested to see how you’ll react. “When the meteorite hit, rebar pierced my shoulder and abdomen.” He tells you. The mention of the meteorite makes your face fall more. “It induced a cardiac arrest. I was clinically dead for 68 seconds.” Your eyes widen at that. “Fortunately, there were no complications in my healing process. Yet I’ve felt off ever since.” He cocks his head. “I felt like I needed to stop wasting my life. I figured ignoring orders based on bribes was an acceptable first step.” And your and your sister's faces had been annoyingly stuck in his mind’s eye.

“Whatever the reason, I owe you for my sister’s life.” 

His refutal is immediate. “No. You don’t owe me anything.” It surprises himself. Favours are useful, and he tends to gather them. But your face had taken on that polite mask as you’d said it, and Chishiya prefers seeing you without.

The mask does drop, as you frown, silent for a while as you’re clearly trying to read him. Finally, you settle on: “You’re fascinating, Dr. Chishiya. I was told you were selfish and heartless. Yet there’s more to you than that, isn’t there?”

He finds himself smirking. It’s refreshing, how forwards you are without judging. “Of course there is. I am human.”

The rest of the dinner, he makes you talk about yourself, absentmindedly wondering why he is bothering to listen.

You try to get him to talk as well, but as always Chishiya manages to say the bare minimum before directing back to you. It’s not that difficult, as you seem relieved to have an outlet for your problems.

He learns that he was right about you not being well off. At least, compared to him. You did just receive an inheritance, but also the care of your young sister. You’re fresh out of college, desperately having taken the best job you could find in a short period of time so she doesn’t have to be placed under an uncle you clearly despise for reasons you’re not sharing. 

That’s alright. Chishiya is very patient. You’ll share eventually.

Once again, he is struck by his inner monologue. Eventually implies he’ll keep contact with you. But, surprisingly, he finds he does not mind the idea.

He had made the resolution to see where this new disruption in his head is taking him. And you intrigue him.

Maybe it’s just because it’s your sister he risked his medical license for. Maybe it’s because you seem to like his characteristics that make others uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because of that feeling he got when he saw how thankful you were after your sister's surgery. Or maybe it’s because he can see the quiet rage in your eyes you try to hide whenever the topic of your parents comes up.

At first he assumes it’s against the system that failed to save them. Or maybe even against the meteorite. But then, just for a moment, your face distorts into hate before turning into grief. 

The kind of hate you can only feel for someone you once loved.

There’s history there. Is that why you intrigue him so? Plenty of his former patients had family they despised. And it doesn’t explain the unpleasant feeling at your next words.

The price of housing has gone up ever since the meteorite hit. You can’t afford your parent’s apartment, while your own is one of the casualties of the meteorite. 

Unacceptable.

Chishiya did not risk his medical licence for you to end up losing custody of your sister because of subpar housing.

He considers the implications for a moment, before shrugging. “I have a spare room.”

And there is that flicker of hope in your eyes again. “…What would rent be?”

Unlike you, Chishiya has two very successful parents. Their respective careers as doctors meant that while lacking plenty of other things, money wasn’t one of them. His apartment was paid for during his studies, as were his necessities and amenities. Even though that stopped when he got his job in the hospital, Chishiya never bought much beyond what was necessary, as proven by his bare apartment. It means he has sizable savings. He does not care for your money.

Still, the thought of having changed enough to take on a charity case is ridiculous. So he does quick mental math to calculate what the additional cost of living with an additional adult and a child would be. He rounds the number up and tells you.

You blink, astonished. “Do you actually mean that? That’s insultingly low for Tokyo. Where do you live?”

It amuses him to see your eyes widen even more as he confirms his neighbourhood. “You would have to share your bedroom with your sister.” He warns you. 

You don’t seem to care. “You’d just let me into your home? With my sister? You know how young she is. Living with a child changes your lifestyle.” 

“I’ve trained for years to specialise in paediatrics. I think I’ll manage.” 

“Why would you offer it?” You don’t mean it maliciously. You’re just baffled. “You really don’t seem like you would do this kind of thing out of the goodness of your own heart.”

“I don’t. Consider this a vested interest in the wellbeing of a patient I choose to lose my job for.” That subtle reminder does it, you fall silent, before whispering a soft, quiet “Thank you.”

It isn’t any less genuine than the gratefulness you’d shown the nurse. “It’s only temporary.” He says with a gruff voice. “Just until you’re steady enough to keep her with you at a place you call your own.”

When the waitress comes with the check, he nonchalantly pays before you can interrupt. As if he could forget you’d intended to treat him.

That evening, he leans backwards against the door in his bedroom, his head leaning against the wood, silently listening to the sounds of you unpacking a room over. He doesn’t regret his impulsive decision, but…

He should. He’s Chishiya Shuntaro. He does not do charity. It’s just to make sure saving your sister’s life isn’t a waste, he assures himself. 

And, being himself, if it does prove too much he could just evict you and your sister. He hasn’t changed enough to feel guilty about that.

He’s sure he hasn’t.

The next few weeks, he does not see you very much. You’re there for breakfast and dinner, but the rest of the days you’re either working or with your sister. 

Still, it’s more than he ever saw his parents, so he supposes it could be considered an improvement.

You do provide him with updates. And, at his request, you’ve handed him your sister’s files.

He has to begrudgingly admit that his replacement is doing a good job, assuming the information is correct, which makes you relax when he tells you. You really do trust his opinion.

One day, you come home early, to see him on the couch, files strewn around him. You pick one up.

“Are these laws?” You ask him, flicking through the pages. “About hospitals?”

“Hmm.” Chishiya confirms, not looking up.

“Does this have to do with the bribes?”

He just nods.

“Chishiya.” You’ve dropped the ‘Dr.’ in front of his name after the first week. He finally looks up. “I’m considering what exposing their corruption would entail.” He sounds bored as he says it, because, well, he is. He has no interest in the laws he’s been delving into the last weeks, but the concept of being the one to expose the corruption amuses him, and he has nothing better to do.

He’s considered searching for a position at another hospital, and he likely will. While he does not care for his patients, being a doctor provides high mental stimulation, but there is no need for it to be immediate.

“Tell me if you need help.” You smile at him. How sweet. You have nothing to offer him in this regard. “You don’t have the time.” He dismisses you, going back to reading, well aware some might take offense to his curt reaction. You do not.

The next time he looks up, there is a steaming cup of tea with a biscuit in front of him.

He supposes living with you isn’t as bad as he expected. But that can change once your sister is released.

One other curious thing the cardiac arrest has changed about him, is this urge to play games. While appreciating the mental exercise, he’s never felt the need to search them out. 

Now, however, every few days he gets this urge. So one day he lays down a go board in front of you, pushing the bowl with black stones towards you expectantly. 

You’re tired and moody after a long day, yet you still play him. And lose. 

It doesn’t worsen your mood, but it annoys him that you apologise for not being at your best. “I’m aware. If I minded we wouldn’t have played. If you mind, deny me next time.”

You don’t deny him next time, but he does makes sure to play with an extensive handicap this time, letting you start with nine stones instead of his one. 

It’s why he had chosen this game. Go, while highly strategic, allows for a handicap if the skill between the players is of different levels. So he can play you, tired or not, but still be challenged.

You beam when you win, even though the handicap was excessive. While not near his extreme level, you’re not that bad at the game.

Chishiya expected himself to make a remark to shut that smile down. Yet, instead he gives you a single nod, and something in his chest loosens.

It’s a few days later that, after a consult with a lawyer, he comes home to the sound of sobbing. At first he ignores it, taking his shoes off and hanging his coat. But as he walks to the living room, his eyes swerve in the direction of your room.

The sound is irritating him. Should he do something about it?

But what? Telling you to stop is unfortunately not how emotions work. And he’s only trained to calm down kids, which you’re decidedly not. Even if you were, it’s the one part of his training he was less than perfect at.

Still, he opens your door without knocking.

You’re sitting on the ground in a ball, leaning against the frame of your bed, your head hidden in your arms. In front of you, on the ground, are several pictures. One consists of a younger you, holding a baby, with an older man and woman by your side. Your parents?

The other pictures show the same people as your sister ages, but for one glaring difference:

You’re missing in them.

He steps closer, crouching in front of you, tilting his head as he considers you.

He’d assumed a rift with how avoidant you were, with the glimpses of grieving hate he’d seen on your face. This confirms his theory.

You look up slowly, your eyes red and damp. Without warning, you push yourself of the bed, putting your arms around him, burying your face into the nape of his neck.

…Oh.

He doesn’t push you off, his brain racking up what to do in a scenario like this. Awkwardly, he puts one of his arms around your back. The only reaction he gets is your arms tightening around him.

…Is that a good sign?

He decides to wait you out. 

It takes a while, but Chishiya is patient as you sob in his arms. Finally, you whisper: “…I don’t know how to feel about their deaths.”

Chishiya really is the wrong person to ask, so he stays silent. He would not care at all if his parents died.

“They disowned me. Years ago.” Your breath tickles his neck. You finally pull back before your next words, anxiously watching his face. “They hated that I’m bi.”

You avert your eyes as he stays silent, waiting for you to continue, before he remembers that admitting this kind of thing can be a big deal.

The reveal is not a surprise to him. You watched both men and women in the shows you’ve put on. But saying that likely isn’t the right move.

His chosen words probably aren’t either. “Am I supposed to care about your sexuality?”

Your eyes are back on his, and for a moment your lips tug up. Maybe it was the right thing to say? “Lots of people do. My parents did.” You glance at the lacking pictures. “They were fine with it when I told them. That lasted until I brought a girlfriend home. Apparently me being bisexual was only acceptable as long as I only dated men. I was on the streets a day later.”

“Then they’re not worth grieving over.” Chishiya cups your face in his hands, wiping away your tears to prove his point. 

“Emotions aren’t that easy, ‘Shiya.” You lean into his touch. It’s the first time anyone has dared to call him by a nickname, but he lets it slide. “I grew up thinking they loved me. I have an entire childhood filled with good memories. I just…” you close your eyes as your voice breaks. “I was angry. So, so angry. All to hide the sense of betrayal. I don’t think I could ever forgive them for what they did. Yet some part of me desperately hoped that they’d change their mind. That they’d learn to accept me. But now they’re dead, and I don’t get to know if they ever would have. Is it bad that that brings me more grief than their deaths?”

“They hurt you.” He feels unsettled with how out of his playing field he is. He’s used to always knowing what to do. “You can deal with their deaths however you prefer.” To him, it doesn’t matter if that might make others consider you a bad person. He does not. And even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He has no interest in being a good person himself.

You move back against his chest, your face once again tucked against the nape of his neck. “Doesn’t it make me a bad daughter that I can only grieve the version I wish they were?”

“No.” Chishiya’s voice is resolute. “It makes them bad parents.”

You stay silent after that, but your sobs have diminished. Still, you seek comfort against him.

It’s so very alien.

It’s only then Chishiya realises that the thought of pushing you off or leaving you alone hadn’t entered his mind a single time once he stepped into your room.

You become more comfortable around him after that, something that brings him satisfaction. You even ask him to come with you to visit your sister.

He enjoys the awkward looks on his former co-workers faces as he stands beside you.

When your sister is released from the hospital, his apartment suddenly becomes much louder, no matter how silent the kid is at first. You suddenly have more free hours, as they’re not spent at the hospital anymore, and Chishiya doesn’t mind watching her while he works. Slowly, the bags beneath your eyes disappear.

Now that your sister is released from the hospital, and can’t be treated badly in revenge, he starts the proceedings with his lawyer to out the hospital’s corruption. You’re delighted when he tells you.

One day, you return from your job with a smile on your face. “I got promoted.” You tell him. “The company still had roles to fill after the loss from the meteorite.” His congratulations are very neutral.

This means you’re ready to move out soon. Chishiya had assumed that the idea of the returning quiet would entice him. Instead, a heavy feeling sits in his abdomen.

Indeed, it’s only days after you’re officially settled in your new role that you approach him after having put your sister to bed. It seems like that in an attempt to not be evicted again, you approach him first. You look down at him on the couch, not mincing your words. “I’ve found a reasonable apartment I can afford. I’ll be able to move out at the end of the month.”

Chishiya, his face empty, nods. “Where?”

You hand him your phone, which shows a listing. Chishiya snorts, mockingly. “Really? That neighbourhood? With your sister?”

You narrow your eyes, silent for a moment before replying. “You’re well aware that that’s one of the better deals I’ll be able to have realistically. Unless I’d wait for my situation to improve further, which could take years. That neighbourhood is fine. It’s just not like any you could afford.”

You’re right. Still, Chishiya purposefully casually stretches his arms over the back of the couch as he looks at you. His life has always been empty, but you’re not. You’re stubborn, forward and full of life. So full that he’s been feeling less empty lately.

The thought of returning to that void is unappealing. 

But, during this time, you’ve apparently grown to know him a bit. “Chishiya.” You ask, your voice low and teasing. “Do you not want me to go?”

He stays silent, slightly tilting his head, his gaze heavy on you. 

You smile victoriously as you step closer, looming over him. “Do you want me?”

This time he does react. “I think so.”

“You think?” You sit down, knees on both sides of his legs, effectively straddling him. One of your hands tilts his chin as you lean closer. “Am I an experiment?”

Are you? He helped your sister because he didn’t care to obey. He helped you because he was intrigued about you, and how he reacted to you.

“Perhaps.” He muses, tilting his head so his lips just brush yours. The warm sparks that shoot through his body are entirely unfamiliar but welcome. “Although if you are, you’re one I want to keep.”

“You better.” You warn him, before meeting his lips in one, quick kiss. The soft feeling really does warm his body. He wasn’t aware touch could be so pleasurable. “But I want permanence.” You whisper, still close enough that your lips brush as you talk. “I want a relationship. My sister doesn’t deserve anything else. Are you alright with that?”

A relationship. Him. How laughable. As part of the experiment, he moves one of his hands from the back of the couch, tilting your head to give him access to your neck. He presses a kiss there, on your pulsepoint, and just… stays.

As a cardiovascular surgeon, he has heard and felt many heartbeats before. None has ever enthranced him like yours.

He presses another, slow, kiss, enjoying the way he can feel your pulse beneath the kiss.

It’s heightened, but that’s not new to him either. Plenty of his patients had reasons to have a heightened heartbeat. The reason that this one pulls his attention is quite simple.

It’s yours.

A relationship, huh?

“I can do that.” He murmurs against your skin.