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Summary
Thirteen minutes.
Feofan is clinically dead for thirteen minutes.
It beeps again. Feofan’s heart beats again. He breathes. It keeps beating.
Dottore snaps his finger in Esfir’s face warningly. “Keep– Keep him stable. I need– some water.”
Staggering from the operating room, Dottore collapses against the back of the closed door, shuddering in a breath that wracks through his entire body.
Feofan died. Feofan died. Feofan died. Feofan died.
Legs full of pins and needles, Dottore makes it to his office, chugging a glass of water and bracing himself over his desk, knuckles white, fingers splayed over the wood.
Feofan died.
He needs to finish the surgery.
Or: after complications during surgery, Dottore develops extremely bad anxiety around Feofan's health (and also they fall in love)