i told you things.
michael robinavitch x f!reader
chapter two: my worst regret
wc: 2.6k
summary: after robby breaks every thread of trust and respect you had for him, you get angry. and more words are exchanged.
(when i finally open my computer to make a masterlist, part one will be there. it’s a few posts down on my blog rn. sorry!)
content: angst, just a lot of it. angry!reader, samira being a good friend, and a bit of dana slaying as usual. medically incorrect information, not fact checked.
a/n: lol hi! samira’s included in the header because i love her and readers relationship, it’s comforting and is totally not a self insert of my friendships.
live laugh love beta reading @mads198-9
You woke up to the soft touch of Samira’s hand shaking your shoulder. Opening your eyes, you saw her holding out a cup of coffee, her eyes softening as she met yours.
“Hey,” she smiled, her voice quiet, “Thought you could use this.”
You took the mug from her, murmured a thank you, and let the warmth seep into your hands before taking a sip. She then handed you your phone. The screen illuminated brightly as she had just powered it back on.
“It was going off all night…I knew you needed sleep so I just turned it off. He…he wouldn’t stop calling.”
Her mouth tugged into a sympathetic smile as she sat down beside you. You sat up, pushing your hair from your eyes as the screen lit up, revealing twenty missed calls and a flood of texts from Robby. Each call was accompanied by what looked like a twenty or thirty second voicemail.
“I don’t even wanna listen to these—” you groaned, tossing your phone onto the carpet, where it landed with a dull thump.
“He tried calling me too…” Samira admitted, her expression tightening. “I thought about answering, telling him off. But then I remembered he’s technically my boss—”
A short laugh slipped out of you, weary but real. “Thanks, Mira. I appreciate the thought nonetheless.”
Samira watched as you sipped the coffee again, her voice softer now. “I’m sorry. About what happened last night.”
“It’s not your fault,” you sighed. “It’s fully his. I’ve never seen him that angry before…and the things he said—god.”
Samira didn’t answer right away, just sat with you in the silence that followed. Her eyes held yours, steady, until the weight of his words began pressing down on you all over again.
“He really told everyone?” you whispered, almost to yourself.
It wasn’t a question she needed to answer, but Samira gave the faintest nod, grounding you in the truth you already feared.
“And he questioned my commitment to my job?!”
You raked a hand through your hair, blinking back hot tears before they could fall. Sadness curled sharp in your chest at first, but it didn’t stay sadness for long. It shifted, hardened, until you could feel it rising like heat beneath your skin. Anger. The kind that takes root deep in the chest and refuses to be pulled out, no matter how hard you try.
Your jaw ached from clenching it. “I should’ve never told him,” you muttered.
Samira’s brows furrowed. “Hey. No. Don’t do that to yourself. You trusted him with that because you loved him. This is fully his fault.”
The coffee no longer tasted warm. It was bitter now, sitting heavy in your stomach. You set the mug down on the table, your hands trembling despite the frustration coiling through your veins.
“I can’t go in there today,” you said suddenly, the thought rushing out before you could stop it. “I can’t face him. Not after this.” The words tasted of pathetic weakness even as you spoke them.
Samira leaned back. She didn’t want to push you, but she knew you could use the distraction that work provided. “Then don’t. Call in sick. Take the time you need.”
Her words were kind, but the knot in your chest only twisted tighter. Part of you wanted to crawl back under the blanket and never come out. Another part wanted to storm into work, find him, and make him regret every word he threw like knives at you the night before.
You closed your eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. Samira squeezed your hand, but you pulled back, shaking your head. “No. If I don’t go into work, then that shows that he was right. That I can freeze. That I can’t handle it.”
Her eyes softened. “You don’t have to prove anything to him.”
“I know I don’t…I think I just need to go back to helping people. What I do best, or not. According to Michael.”
Samira gave a resigned nod. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
You managed a weak smile, grateful for her loyalty, and then pushed yourself up from the couch. The coffee sat half-finished on the table, forgotten. By the time you pulled yourself together, dressed, and walked into the hospital alongside Samira, your pulse was a steady drumbeat of nerves and anger.
Everything in the ER hit you like an all too familiar wave the second you walked through the doors. The lights were too bright, and too sharp. The air reeked of antiseptic, but what stood out most was the ripple of silence when you stepped through the doors. You didn’t have to look to know people were watching, whispering. You could feel it. The weight of their stares pressing against your shoulders.
Samira stayed a step behind you, protective. “Ignore them,” she murmured.
You lifted your chin instead, refusing to let your legs falter. “If I freeze now, he wins.” Your words were to both of you but they were mainly to convince yourself you were doing the right thing. That you were capable of working.
As if conjured by your words, Robby appeared from around the corner, clipboard in hand, expression already stormy. He stopped dead when he saw you, his jaw tightening, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.
The tension in the hall thickened instantly, like the whole place was holding its breath.
“Can we talk?” Robby asked, his voice low, too controlled.
Your lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that.”
You felt almost possessed by your anger. Deep down you knew it wasn’t the best thing for you to do, but you didn’t care.
“Not here,” he muttered, glancing at the curious nurses hovering nearby.
But you didn’t move. “No. Here’s fine. Everyone’s already got their version of last night thanks to you, so why not let them hear the rest?”
A murmur spread across the ER. Robby’s shoulders stiffened.
“I’m sorry—“
“I don’t want to hear it.” Your voice was stern.
Robby sighed, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I said I don’t want to hear it.”
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” He looked exhausted. Both physically and emotionally. But you couldn’t let it faze you.
You folded your arms, heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out your own voice. “You dragged my life into the open. You tore me apart in front of people I work with. And now you want privacy?” You shook your head. “You don’t get that.”
Robby’s face flushed, and for the first time you saw it. Uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come fast enough.
For once, it was him who froze.
The silence stretched, broken only by the distant beeping of monitors. A couple of nurses at the desk exchanged glances. An intern hovered awkwardly with a chart in hand, pretending to be busy. Everyone was listening.
You folded your arms tighter across your chest. “What’s wrong, Robby? Cat got your tongue? You sure didn’t have any problem running your mouth last night.”
His jaw ticked, a flicker of frustration breaking through his composure. “This isn’t the time or place.”
You clocked the frustration. The glare that silently said “shut up.”
“Oh, I think it’s exactly the place,” you shot back, your voice sharper now. “Because you made sure everyone here knows my business. So let’s not pretend you care about professionalism all of a sudden.”
Samira shifted slightly at your side, close enough that you could feel her steady presence like a buffer, but she didn’t intervene. She knew you didn’t want rescuing. You wanted to be heard.
Robby stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re making this worse—”
“No. There is no possible way that I can make this worse,” you snapped, loud enough that the patient that had just been wheeled in heard you. “You crossed a line, and you don’t get to act like I’m the problem for refusing to stay quiet about it.”
A tension-laced hush settled over the ER. Even the paramedic coming through the doors slowed his steps, eyes flicking curiously between you and Robby.
Robby’s hand flexed around the clipboard he was holding, knuckles pale. “I didn’t mean—”
You laughed, sharp and humorless. “You seemed pretty damn intentional last night when you ripped open things I trusted you with. Things I told you in confidence because I loved you. Things you had no right to share.”
His eyes darted away, just for a second, and that second was enough. Enough for you to see it. The crack in his armor, the guilt he couldn’t quite hide.
“You humiliated me,” you continued, voice thickening, but you forced yourself not to falter. “You don’t get to stand here, pretend it was a mistake, and expect me to just swallow it. Not this time.”
The words hung between you, heavy and hot.
Finally, Robby lowered the clipboard to his side, his voice quiet but strained. “You’re right.”
It stunned you for half a breath. Not because it made things better, but because you hadn’t expected him to admit it at all.
You opened your mouth to speak, but he added quickly, “But can we please do this somewhere else? You’ve made your point.”
You tilted your head, studying him. “Have I? Because I don’t think you realize how much damage you’ve done.”
The muscles in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue. He just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes flickering between you and the watching crowd. He was taking every blow you threw his way. Quite admirably, you thought, given the circumstances.
The ER was still buzzing around you, but it felt like everything had narrowed down to this. The weight of his guilt, your fury, and the silence of colleagues who now knew more about you than you ever intended.
Finally, you stepped back, forcing steel into your voice. “You wanted to air out my secrets? Fine. But don’t forget Robby, your skeletons are a hell of a lot closer to the surface than mine.”
A ripple went through the room. Gasps. Murmurs. The sound of people turning to look at him instead of you. His head snapped toward you, eyes sharp, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you waver. You knew that your words had hurt, that they landed hard. But at that moment, there was not an inch of remorse coursing through your veins.
His eyes widened, just slightly, and the clipboard dipped lower at his side. His confidence cracked open for everyone to see.
“Please,” he said again, softer now, almost careful. “Not here.”
For a second, your chest tightened. You hated the way his voice wavered, hated the flicker of regret on his face that made your heart ache in spite of everything. He looked smaller somehow, stripped down, and against your will, a piece of you wanted to reach for him.
You blinked quickly, forcing steel back into your voice. “You don’t get to look at me like that,” you said, though your throat caught around the words. “Not after what you did.”
Something in his face shifted. Pain, guilt, shame. But he didn’t push further. He just stood there, silent, and for once you had the power.
The ER buzzed faintly back to life around you, phones ringing, a gurney squeaking past, but the air between you and him stayed
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, and finally looked away.
The anger was still there, simmering. But under it, buried deep, was the part of you you couldn’t quite smother: the part that still remembered why you’d cared about him in the first place.
Suddenly, Robby stepped forward and he put a hand gently on the side of your arm. Just enough to ground you to the moment.
“Please…” he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Let me make this right.”
You stared at him, chest tight, fists clenching at your sides. His words felt fragile, like a window you wanted to peek through but knew you shouldn’t. You stepped back, shoving his hand away.
“You can’t take it back,” you said quietly, though your voice wavered more than you intended. “Everyone heard what you said. That’s…done.”
“I know,” he murmured, eyes flicking down for a moment before meeting yours again. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. I don’t want to lose you over this.”
Something inside you twisted. Your anger didn’t vanish, not even close, but a small, stubborn part of you that was buried under the hurt and rage hesitated.
“You made me question everything I thought I knew about you…about us. You threw out my deepest secret and shame like it was garbage, Michael. And now, I don’t know if I can ever ever forgive you.”
His eyes went wide, a flicker of guilt and fear crossing his face. The confident, untouchable Robby was gone, replaced by someone small, exposed.
He stepped slightly closer, carefully, “I’ll wait. I’ll prove it. I’ll do anything.”
You shook your head, a tight laugh escaping your lips, part bitter, part helpless. “Just let me do my damn job…please.”.”
You let out a shaky breath and finally looked away, drawing your focus to the floor, to the walls, anywhere but him.
The anger was still there, simmering, but under it, buried deep, was the tiniest flicker of something else. A memory of the man you’d loved, the one beneath the mistakes and the humiliation. You weren’t ready to let that part surface fully, but you couldn’t deny it either.
The anger still burned in your chest, but you needed space, needed air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked toward the break room. Samira, took note that you wanted to be alone and she shot Robby one last look of pure anger before jumping back into the chaos.
Robby stayed rooted in the middle of the ER, his eyes following your retreating form, frozen in place as if the world had narrowed down to the echo of your words.
The hum of the ER around him seemed distant, unreal. He was stuck in the moment, replaying your voice, your glare, your words about trust and care. Words that cut deeper than anything he’d expected.
Then, a sharp, familiar voice broke through his fog.
“Robby!” Dana, the charge nurse, appeared beside him, hands on her hips, a mixture of exasperation and affection on her face. “Snap out of it. We need you back here, now. Stat.”
He blinked, startled, as if waking from a daze. “I—I…”
Dana waved a hand toward the floor. “No ‘I’s. Just move. Patients don’t care about your emotional meltdown, and neither do the rest of us.”
His gaze flicked toward the break room, where you’d disappeared. He opened his mouth again, but Dana’s sharp look shut it down.
“Go,” she said firmly. “Do your job. You’ll figure out the rest later.”
Robby swallowed hard, nodding, finally forcing himself to step back into the current of the ER. But even as he moved, his eyes kept flicking over toward the break room door, knowing you were there, that you’d walked away, but also knowing he wasn’t ready to let go.
And Dana, watching both of you, just shook her head, lips twitching in a half-smile. She’d seen it all: the anger, the heartbreak, the small, stubborn threads of care neither of you wanted to admit.
“You two are impossible,” she muttered under her breath, walking off to deal with a patient.
divider creds: @hyuneskkami
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reply to be added !
a/n: dana is mother 💞