Lor

(you are a girl)

You'd only worked here for two years, so you certainly hadn't had time to gain much experience. But your colleagues were always helpful, and you tried to be kind to your patients. The ENT stood out. He was stern to the point of being awful, always correcting you and sometimes laughing at your mistakes, but you weren't offended. Because, God, he was so handsome. His white, perpetually tousled hair, and his figure... a perfect body, you could tell even under his lab coat. And his eyes—a dark forest, with a glimmer of sun hidden in their depths. You responded in kind—teasing him back.

A critical patient was admitted today. A complex case. The ENT, of course, took him on. You timidly offered to help, but he simply waved you off, throwing out a short "I can handle it myself." And then disappeared. He spent the whole day at the patient's bedside, lugging around tests, consulting literature, but by evening he still hadn't found a solution.

When the clock showed almost eleven, you, tired, went into the doctor's office to pick up your bag and froze

The doctor sat at the desk, wearing only trousers. His torso, so perfect, was now tense, and he himself, forgetting all sternness, tousled his white hair and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. He hadn't heard you enter. Leaning over the medical records, he quietly, but with such genuine anger, muttered under his breath:

• Damn... what's wrong with him...