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The beeping of the machinery around him was the only thing keeping Dennis grounded. His head was spinning, almost to point of blurry vision, and his chest felt like something was inside, expanding and creating a pressure unlike anything he’d felt before. He bit his lip to keep from whining out in pain, and leaned against the wall in the hallway of the ER. His scrubs felt wrong, his surroundings were off, and the sharp stinging in his side kept its steady torment on him.
In front of him, a voice rang out. Dr. Robby was talking to a patient, discussing treatment plans and medication and who knows what else. Dennis watched, hand gripping the scrubs on his legs to keep him grounded. It had been long shift.
He just wanted to go home.
“Whitaker!” The sound of his name drifted toward him, bringing him out of his pain-induced spiral and back into a harsh reality that was barely better. He looked up to where Robby was, staring at him. “Kid, come here.”
“Yeah?” Dennis pushed himself off the wall and stumbled toward Robby. “What’s up?”
“I want you to check my numbers for me.” Robby handed him a clipboard. “Make sure all the medications are in order.”
For a second, Dennis wondered why his attending was asking him this. Usually, it was the other way around. But he was in too much pain to care, or to argue, or to question. He glanced over the sheet, eyes blurring as he tried to read the small words. Medication, check. Treatment plan, check. Everything looked… fine. He looked up. “All good.”
Robby hummed and took the clipboard back gently. “Whitaker, go sit in the break room for a minute. I’ll be there after this.”
“What?” Dennis blinked. “Why?” Each word he spoke stabbed at his chest a little harder.
“Because I said so?” The look in Robby’s eyes meant he was serious. “Gimme five, Whitaker. Go sit down.”
Huffing, Dennis retreated to the break room. It was empty, and the door swung closed behind him far too loudly. He sighed, settling into a stiff seat and clutching his ribs.
A few minutes passed, and Dennis’s vision only got worse. He looked up at the clock on the wall, the hour hand turning into two, the numbers blurring together. He felt faint, tired. Like he could fall asleep on the staff room table, hands wrapped around his waist in an attempt to ease the pain.
Eventually, the door swung open again. Dennis looked at him, straightening up and forcing a smile onto his face. “Hey, Dr Robby.”
“Hey, kid,” Robby responded. “What’s wrong with you today?”
Shit. Dennis shrugged, trying to keep his composure. “Nothings wrong, sir,” he lied. “Why?”
Robby put down the clipboard from before. “I want you to look closely at this,” he said, point toward the medication section. “Tell me what that says.”
Leaning in, Dennis read the text. Motrin, oral antibiotics, epinephrine— wait. He blinked. “That wasn’t an anaphylaxis patient.”
“Bingo.” Robby pulled the clipboard away. “Why didn’t you spot that the first time?”
“I—” Dennis swallowed and winced. “I probably just scanned over it.”
With a hum, Robby spoke. “You’re one of my best doctors, Dennis,” he said. “You don’t scan over things.” Placing a hand on Dennis’s shoulder he sighed. “You need to tell me what’s up with you before I send you home.”
Eyes wide, Dennis snapped his head toward Robby. “No, Im fine, I promise! I just…” He groaned. “Nothings up, Dr. Robby. Im perfectly fine.”
Robby stood. “Ok,” he said, giving Dennis a once over. “Follow me, then. We have work to do.” He watched as Dennis scrambled up and clutched as his chest innocently. “Out the door, Whitaker.”
Dennis took a step forward, then another. Every inch of him wanted to collapse. When he reached Robby, he sighed. “Back to work.” He kept walking. One step, two steps, he had this. He just had to make it to the door. It was fine.
It was not fine. Dennis twisted himself the wrong way and let out a pained gasp. His hand went to his mouth, slapping over it to restrain the noises. He heard Robby sigh.
“Sit back down.”
Trying to resist, Dennis took another step forward. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “All good here.”
“Dennis.” Robbys booming voice echoed in his ears. “I said, sit down.”
Eyes fluttering closed, Dennis obeyed. He stumbled back toward the table, falling into a seat and hissing as the chair bumped his side. He said nothing; the pain was growing and it hurt to speak. He couldn’t see now, not between the teardrops forming.
He heard Robby’s voice, drifting above the pain. “Can I lift your shirt?” He asked. Dennis nodded.
The scrubs moved, oh so gently. He heard Robby hum, a disapproving and worried sound. He could feel a hand on his waist, pressing into the painful area. It took everything in him not to scream.
“What happened?” Robby’s voice cut through the tense air once again. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“I ran into a cart,” Dennis murmured. “Didn’t think it would be this bad.” He shrugged away from Robby’s hand. “It’s not a big deal deal.”
“Right.” Robby ran his thumb over Dennis’s side and watched him wince. “Did you know you have a cut here?” He watched Dennis shake his head no. “It looks like something sharp lodged itself through your scrubs and into your skin. Im surprised you’ve been standing for as long as you have.”
“I…” Dennis took a breath and looked down. He was met with a large red and purple bruise, the width of two hands, and the tip of something poking out from a thing line of broken skin and dried blood. “I don’t know how that happened.”
“You didn’t think to check after getting injured?”
Dennis swallowed. “I didn’t think it was this bad, like I said.” He sounded defensive, but mostly, he was vulnerable. “I promise I’m fine, though. I can clean it up.”
Clicking his tongue, Robby locked eyes with Dennis. “Workplace injury. I gotta examine you.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s protocol, Dennis. You know this.” Robby held out a hand, offering it to Dennis. “I’ll put you in a private room. No one has to find out, but I have to do something about it. You could get infected.”
Huffing, Dennis held out his hand. “Fine,” he whispered. Robby yanked him upward, and their chests collided.
Arms wrapped around him. He let out a confused little noise, but didn’t have the strength to pull away from the embrace.
“What are you doing?” The question was muffled into Robby’s chest.
He felt Robby’s mouth above his head, lips nearly brushing his hair. It almost felt like something more than just the whisper he let out.
It almost felt like a kiss.
“Never feel afraid to ask for help.”