#bydana

[pittvet]

@bydana // continued.

it’s too fucking loud, too bright with all the different screens. nauseating, all the movement on the screens, the movement of the other patrons at the bar, the chatter that presses in on all sides of him. or maybe that’s the drinks. he’s not sure it matters either way. jack slides off the bar stool, steadies himself against the bar as the world tilts too far with the movement. he needs to go. somewhere quieter. anywhere quieter. 

between one blink and the next, he finds himself outside. sitting on the sidewalk, back pressed to the bricks, head between his knees. the phone in his hand vibrates again, and jack reflexively opens the unread messages. reads over the near indecipherable letters several times before they begin to make sense. when had he texted michael? 

[ message: michael ] a little coudknt go home yet. didnt know wgat to tell annie about suspension today [ message: michael ] promised things wre better at work. [ message: michael ] howss evans? husband pick her up?

[enduresit]

INCOMING: ❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜

the words @bydana sends his way almost tear a laugh out of him, something hard edged and dismissive, designed to push away away away. but michael swallows it down with effort, scrubbing his hand along the back of his neck. he finds himself gravitating towards her bookshelf, finds himself putting physical distance between them. it's a process, he reminds himself. you're working on it. that's all she's asking for. he peers blurrily at the titles along the spines of her books, plucking one off at random, and pretends as if he is reading the back of it. tries desperately to convince himself that this conversation isn't threatening to devour what little imagined progress he's made.

"i—" the book is placed back on the shelf, a little more forceful than he intends. a wince pinches his expression, and michael tilts his head apologetically, even as he continues to look anywhere but baran's face. "i know that." and he does. they've been working on this very thing. therapy for himself. therapy for them both. he knows he can talk to her. but the words... they won't unstick themselves from his throat, work their way out of him. how could they?

"i didn't even meet janey's parents." clumsily, it seems, is how they'll tumble from his lips.

[sympatheticdominance]

"It's your job, not your life." / from kiara @bydana

workaholic v2

He looked down at his hands and couldn't resist the urge to let out a snort of laughter at that particular choice of statement. He shook his head, slowly, lifting up to look her in the eye now. "Yeah, that's the first time I've heard that one," he jibed, acerbic but with a hint of a smile; maybe just to soften it rather than through any genuine feeling. "Well, thanks for the advice, but some of us have work to do, so..."

[murkyhazed]

@bydana my love gets jacklissa here too

               she’s   sitting   on   the   steps   of   the   porch   in   the   backyard.      she’s   got   a   wine   glass   in   her   hand,   and   the   bottle   of   wine   at   her   side.      dana   thought   she   was   sneaky,   leaving   the   bed.      melissa   was   very   attuned   to   her   best   friend,   she   knew   right   away   when   her   presence   faded.      and   she   had   a   feeling   she   knew   exactly   where   she   was   going   too.      god,   she   loves   her   to   death,   but   she   doesn’t   need   to   hear   what   is   about   to   transpire.      so   she’d   headed   down   the   stairs,   past   what   she   thought   was   a   sleeping   jack   on   the   couch,   and   grabbed   a   glass   and   a   bottle   and   headed   outside.      it   was   a   beautiful   night,   dana’s   property   allowed   for   the   stars   to   be   more   visible,   as   it   was   a   little   ways   from   the   light   pollution   given   off   by   the   city.      seemed   like   a   pretty   good   way   to   spend   an   hour   or   two,   lounging   on   the   deck   watching   the   stars.

               she   hadn’t   anticipated   hearing   the   sliding   door   open   behind   her,   and   she   quickly   turned   around.      ❝   oh,   it’s   you.   ❞      robby’s   best   friend,   the   one   who’d   been   suckered   into   the   dinner   with   the   three   of   them.      melissa   isn’t   sure   what   the   real   reason   was.      was   it   so   melissa   didn’t   feel   like   a   third   wheel,   or   was   it   so   robby   wouldn’t   end   up   the   third   wheel?      because   when   melissa   and   dana   got   together,   a   lot   of   other   people   ended   up   ignored.      either   way,   she’d   spend   a   decent   amount   of   time   chatting   it   up   with   jack   at   dinner,   too.      ❝   hey,   i   didn’t   wake   you   did   i?      just   wanted   to   get   some   air   and   a   little   wine.   ❞

[pittvet]

Dear Annie ( @bydana ),

I think I know how you’re going to react to this. You’re going to get this letter and hold up the envelope to your roommate with that “can you believe this?” look of yours. Hopefully the fond version with the smile that crinkles your nose. Don’t tell me if it’s the other one, please. You'll try not to rip the envelope in opening it, but this damn thing is going to tear anyway. I might even be annoyed if it doesn’t. The glue tastes awful. The least it could do in return is be difficult to open. I think you’ll have laughed by this point. Probably in disbelief that I’ve written a letter in the first place. I could have done this some other way. Could have called, gone to one of those “we survived midterms” parties in the hopes of seeing you there, or swung by your dorm after classes ended for the day. But I think… well, it just feels more romantic to write a letter, doesn’t it?

You can probably guess what I’m going to say next.

I know we’re taking a break. The thing is, I really don’t want to. I miss you. And I knew I was going to miss you when we agreed to this at the start of term, but it’s been so hard. My roommate tried to set me up a few nights ago. Surprised me with a double date at the movies. All I could think about was how much I wanted you there with me instead.

Do you want to get dinner with me? We could go somewhere off campus. Anywhere you want actually. Nothing’s off the table. I’ve been saving up these past few months.

Selfishly, I hope you’re not seeing anyone new by the time you get this.

Love you always, Jack.

[pittresilience]

@bydana liked for a starter

The tablet balanced on the nurses' station might as well be written in another language for how long Jack has been staring at the same note. He reads the last sentence again, backspaces half of it, rewrites it, then decides the first version was probably better. Around him, the emergency department carries on at its usual pace, nurses weaving past with practiced ease while attendings seem to finish three tasks for every one he manages. With a quiet sigh, he reaches for his rapidly cooling coffee, takes one sip, and immediately makes a face. "I don't know why I keep convincing myself this stuff is drinkable," he mutters, setting the cup back down.

Movement in the corner of his eye finally pulls him away from the chart. Jack looks up, a tired but genuine smile breaking through almost instantly. "Please tell me you've mastered the art of making med students look like they know what they're doing," he says, gesturing vaguely toward the tablet. "Because I'm about five minutes away from asking this note to write itself."

[pittresilience]

@bydana liked for a starter

The ambulance bay doors slide open, and Jack steps through them without the usual purpose in his stride. His tactical gear is streaked with soot and grime, dried blood marking the front of his vest and the sleeves of his uniform in uneven smears that tell a story nobody in the department wants to hear. His helmet hangs loosely from one hand, his medical bag from the other, both feeling heavier than they had when he'd left hours ago. Conversations around the nurses' station falter as people notice him, but he doesn't seem to notice them in return.

He sets the medical bag beside the charge desk with a dull thud and starts peeling off his gloves, his eyes lingering on the dried blood across his knuckles. An alcohol wipe appears in his hand a second later. He scrubs once. Then again. Harder than necessary. By the third pass, his skin has gone pink, but he doesn't seem to realize he's still doing it.

It isn't until someone steps into his line of sight that he finally looks up. His gaze lands on Kiara for a moment before drifting away again, settling somewhere across the department instead. A tired breath slips through his nose.

"I'm fine. Nothing a shower and coffee won't fix."

[pittresilience]

@bydana liked for a starter

The drive home is almost unnervingly quiet. Baby Jane Doe sleeps through it, bundled securely in the back seat, while Jack catches himself checking the rearview mirror at nearly every stoplight. She'd been abandoned in the emergency department at the beginning of the day shift, and somehow, after hours of waiting for police and social services that never came, she'd ended up riding home in his Jeep instead. The foster paperwork sits folded on the passenger seat beside the diaper bag, and every time he glances at it, the reality settles in a little more. He'd spent the whole drive trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to Robby. He still hasn't come up with anything that sounds remotely sane.

The apartment door opens with its familiar click, and Jack steps inside carrying the infant car seat with both hands. He sets it down carefully just inside the entryway before straightening, his eyes lingering on the sleeping baby for another second as though making sure she's really there. The sound of footsteps pulls his attention toward the hallway, and he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking far less like the attending who could run a trauma bay without breaking a sweat. "So..." he says, a nervous, almost disbelieving smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Remember Baby Jane Doe?" His eyes drift down to the carrier before lifting back to Robby. "She needed somewhere to go tonight." He lets out a quiet breath. "I may have volunteered us."