[10:24 am]

#8 hospital au + #63 everybody knows/mistaken couple + Pediatrician!Johnny

warnings: implied chronic illness, language

~~

As the words fell resonated around the room, you watched the woman in front of you. The sob that came from her was like a knife to the chest. Her husband wrapped his arms around her, trying to give her comfort while his own heart was breaking. They were lucky to have each other to lean on.

It never got easier to share the news with families. With only a few words from you, their entire world changed, shifted in ways that you couldn’t understand.

You clasped your hands together, trying to hide the tremor that was working its way to the surface, “I’ll let you guys have some time. The nurse will follow up with you in a few minutes, please let him know if you need anything from me.” Turning from the couple, you bit your lip to keep the tears that were brimming in your eyes. “Hey, Mark,” you greeted the young nurse who had been hired just a few months prior. “Give the couple in there 10.”

Mark knew more than anyone that diagnosis like those were hard on families. They hoped for the best but lived with the reality of the worst.

“Is it?”

You shook your head. The rates were unspeakable. To say those little words again would have you sitting over a bathroom toilet your entire lunch break. 

“Just make sure that they have all of the information they need. If you need anything from me, let me know.”

His eyebrows pinched together slightly as he nodded, “Sure, but- um-” you watched as he shifted nervously on his feet, “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you tried a smile. “Just a headache. Nothing some Tylenol”-and a long nap- “won’t fix.” Departing with a pat on the shoulder and a tight grimace, you made your way to your office. If you got there and locked the door before anyone saw you then you could have your cry. 

The door of your office didn’t budge as you jiggled the handle. “Please,” you attempted to open it again. “I just need you to work with me.” Locked. “Stupid piece of shit,” you gave the door a hard kick. 

“Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe don’t take it out on yourself,” Johnny Suh leaned against the wall next to you. “I mean. I don’t think you would like me to have to take a look at you, would you, Doctor L/n? I, of course, have no qualms.”

“Leave me alone, Doctor Suh,” your turned your face away. He couldn’t see you cry. If he saw just how vulnerable this part of your job made you, he would just use it against you.

His heat and warm scent enveloped you as he moved in closer, “Come now, Doctor. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that maybe your first judgment of me was wrong.”

You shook your head refusing to answer him. Just opening your mouth you knew that the frustration and anguish you were feeling would come pouring out. The door knob jerked again and you slammed a palm against the door.

“Y/n,” oh no, he was using your first name. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” you sniff. “This stupid door locked me out of my office again.” A tear fell down your cheek and you tried to wipe it away before he saw. 

Johnny’s hand came up to rest on your arm, “Come on,” the light pressure of his hand guided you away from you door, “Don’t cry.”

Just like a man to not want you to show any emotion because it made him uncomfortable. Johnny is a doctor; he should be able to handle an array of strong emotions. So should you. You shouldn’t feel that much pain anymore. You should be able to disconnect from those emotions while you are at work.

“I don’t know what’s running through that beautiful head of you, but whatever it is, you’re wrong,” the door to a separate office swung open and Johnny quickly led you inside. “Here you go, sit.” His hands slid down your arms, guiding you to a plush couch. “Now you want to tell me what’s actually going on?”

You lip quivered as you tried to suppress a sob. Dark eyes caught yours as Johnny’s finger caught your chin, tipping it up so he could take in your face. A deep furrow pressed in between his eyebrows. His concern finally broke through your barrier. It didn’t matter that he may use it against you, you had to get it off your chest, “He’s one Johnny.” You raised a hand to cover your gasping breaths. “One. And I had to tell his parents that.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” his arms reached for you and pulled you into his chest. “I understand.”

He would, wouldn’t he.

“I know that it hurts to give them that news.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t still be feeling this way. I have done this long enough that there should be a disconnect.” His shirt crinkled under the grip of your hands on his back. How was it that the one guy you were always trying to avoid was the one to comfort you then?

“I disagree,” his breath covered the top of your head. “Being able to empathize and sympathize with our patients makes us more humane. It makes the hard time seem less daunting and the good times even better. If we disconnect our patients don’t feel like they are being taken care of or like we just look at them like another lab experiment.” You sank further into him as he rubbed a hand up and down your back. His fingers made small circles across your spine every time your breath hitched and you had to wonder why he did that. “Every single one of your patients love you because you connect with them beyond just a diagnosis. You work yourself to the bone and then you put in more work to check up on families and kids that came in here months ago. Parents appreciate that and kids know that you are one of the safe adults. In this field there is nothing more important.”

“Thank you,” it was a soft whisper into the crook of his neck, but you knew he heard.

He hummed lightly, “They don’t understand how much it takes out of you. But I do. So today, I am your doctor.” Pulling away from you he brushed away the hair and tears that stuck to your cheeks. “As your doctor, I am prescribing you one nap and two Tylenol.”

“How much medical school did it take you to figure out how to make that diagnosis?” you blinked up at him as he pushed you to lay down on the couch.

Grabbing a small pill bottle from his counter he shook it lightly and grabbed a bottle of water, “I think it was my third year.” He smiled down at you, and though you would never admit it out loud, it was kind of nice. Johnny was a nice person to have as a friend.

“Really,” you tucked your hands under your head. “I think it was my second year.”

“I knew you were the smarter one,” he set down the bottles and stepped toward the door, “Though I think that was always obvious. I mean I can’t be the pretty and smart one, can I?” You laughed a long with him. Even through the ache in your head, it did make you feel better. Johnny really was a miracle doctor. “Get some rest, find me later.”

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“Anytime.” The door clicked shut behind him and with a smile on your face you drifted to sleep.

The sly smirk Mark gave you when you wander back to the nurses station an hour later dropped when Johnny wandered up and squeezed you shoulder, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” it wasn’t hard to give him a smile then. "I may have to invade your office more often.“

He shrugged, “Feel free to use my couch anytime.” And he walked away from you. No, you didn’t look at his butt, you were looking at the piece of paper he had tucked into his back pocket.

Mark screeched in your ear and you turned to find him quickly typing in his phone, “What are you doing?”

He hid his phone behind his back, “Nothing.” Red colored his cheeks as you continued to stare at him. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

He may have avoided your scrutiny then, but if the looks that nurses started throwing your way meant anything, he would be hearing from you again later.