Giving in
Jack Abbot x male reader
CW: you’re injured, not specified what happened so you can make your own assumptions!
Abbot has a crush on you but he thinks you don’t like him back lol
Abbot was fucked.
Seriously and hopelessly fucked.
When EMTs rolled you in he had felt his body practically seize, his hand grips his scrubs before he puts his battle face on and moves forward, “What happened.” He says as he walks with the EMT explaining the injuries. He wasn’t listening, his eyes focused on your body, the way you weren’t opening your eyes. He wasn’t a praying man but he was praying to whatever god would listen to make you wake up.
Eventually the student doctors start working on you and he just stares at you as they do so, his hands crossed, his body felt numb, his eyes searching for any sign of you being dead, your heart was beating steadily, your chest was rising and falling on your own. You were bleeding extensively though. Some of your bones broken, bruises all over you. As they cut your clothes off he looks away, the familiar embarrassment running up his face.
He had a crush on you, that wasn’t new information for him. That’s why seeing you like this made it so much worse.
—————
It takes longer than he would like for you to heal up. He was honestly getting impatient. If he didn’t keep himself busy he would probably be at your side 24/7. Moving hand over foot to keep you comfortable.
A student doctor was talking about one of the patients, his mind was elsewhere, focused on you. Hoping you were healing right. If your broken bone was casted correctly. If your muscles were sore. Maybe you’d like a massage? He can give good massages, according to his ex girlfriend from back in the day.
He tilts his head contemplating asking you when the student doctor says his name. He blinks at them before nodding, “Yeah, sounds good.” He says dumbly.
The student nods eagerly and rushes away. Abbot watches them go with a tight lipped frown. He shakes his head and somehow finds his way to your room. Under the guise of checking your vitals.
He could feel you staring, you say something snarky and he turns to face you with an amused look, “I don’t know what you mean. I’m doing my job. Why else would I be in here?”
You respond but he isn’t really listening. His eyes are focused on the bruises and casts on your body. His throat bobs nervously as he watches you shift in place. His body tensing when you wince and he turns to look at your monitor, “Is your pain manageable at least?” He whisper, his voice felt tight.
You just nod as you watch him stare at the heart monitor like it’d suddenly flatline.
His hands twitch and he feels like everything is crashing around him like he just realized you could have died, “Shit… sorry. I uhm…” He blinks, trying to focus on the now, “You’re uhm… healing well.” He says as he moves to your chart, focus Abbot. He doesn’t need you cracking.
“Might need a wheelchair to get around for awhile, but you should be able to go home tomorrow.” He murmurs, the words feel thick in his throat. He couldn’t imagine not seeing you. Even if it was only until you were fully healed and ready to work again, “Need any water or food?” He glances at you, a bruise on your jaw makes him look away. His eyes hurt, he needed to get away before he explodes. He doesn’t wait for a response and he just books it, making it up the stairs and onto the roof, the familiar chill of the wind calming him slightly, he braces himself against the railing along the roof.
“Damn it.” He grits out, “Fuck.” He rubs his hand on his calf, phantom pains acting out again. He sits against the railing, pulling his prosthetic off to massage his leg, his breathing is shaky as he tries to keep himself calm.









