Chapter Text
He's in South 15 with Perlah and a patient when he hears the commotion outside. The sounds of a gurney rolling in, people shouting stats that he can barely make out. His patient, a young mother with her three year old, both with a wicked case of chicken pox, is bouncing the agitated toddler in her lap when the door behind him opens roughly.
“Robby, trauma one. They need you. Now.”
There's something in Dana's voice, something that sets off the alarm bells.
He nods, “Perlah, can you get Samira in here to finish with Ms. Grande? Doctor Mohan will be in shortly to finish up.”
He's off the stool and disposing of his gloves quickly, shouldering his way through the door.
“How bad?” He asks, heading where she aims him.
“Vehicle versus pedestrian, unresponsive in the field,” she recites quickly, stopping his momentum with a hand on his forearm, “It's - Robby, it's Whitaker.”
His steps falter briefly and then he's running the short distance across the ED and into trauma one.
“BP is 122 over 70, pulse ox 88.”
McKay, Javadi, Langdon and Garcia are working around Whitaker in tandem. They call out stats, request meds, talk through each procedure step by step and Robby hears it all but he can't find his voice to assist. For the first time in decades, the blood hitting the floor turns his stomach.
This is Dennis. One of theirs, one of his. In all his time here, in all the years he's been teaching med students, this isn't something to have ever happened.
The door behind him swings open again and he hears Santos before he sees her. She moves to step forward, to jump in, but he catches her arm and pulls her back.
“No,” he says as gently as possible, “You're too close to this. You can't.”
“What the fuck happened?”
Her voice is weak and she's trembling where his hand remains on her arm. As hardened as she pretends to be, Robby knows that Santos cares about Whitaker. Hell, if he didn't think she'd deck him for it, he'd say she really loves him. They're roommates, sure, but he's seen them together enough to know that they're also friends. Real friends. And her fear for him is palpable.
Robby can't answer her question, his throat tight as he observes the others work. It's Jesse who says, “All we got was he was hit by a car.”
Santos's sob is muffled behind her hand and she stumbles back a step, bumping into him. He doesn't push her away, simply keeps hold of her arm and supports some of her weight to keep her upright.
Whitaker groans when someone palpates his left side and the sound rips through Robby's heart. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the dizziness hits.
“Left side tenderness, rib fractures lower left,” Javadi calls out.
“Get me the ultrasound!”
A moment later he hears McKay say, “Free fluid in the abdomen. Splenic injury. He's hemorrhaging!”
“He’s going upstairs. Let's move people, now!” Garcia says then, drawing Robby's attention away from Whitaker's slack face for the first time since he entered the room.
He gives her a tight nod, stepping forward to grab the bedrail.
“Coming with,” he says, not a request, just a fact.
Santos takes a slight step forward but stops herself, knowing she can't follow. Robby meets her gaze as they wheel Dennis from the room.
“I'll update you as soon as possible,” he assures her.
She nods weakly, eyes tracking them as they head for the elevator.
*
Dennis codes twice on the operating table. They get him back but by the time he's stable and they've moved him to post-op, Robby feels himself falling apart.
His hands tremble as he steps into the hallway.
Vision blurry and breath catching, he stumbles into the nearest bathroom and the moment the door closes behind him, he retches into the sink. The coffee he'd had for breakfast burns on the way back up.
The knock on the door startles him and Robby clears his throat, his voice hoarse as he calls, “Just a sec.”
He splashes cool water on his face and takes a moment to rinse the acid from his mouth before stepping back into the hall. He isn't surprised to find Dana leaning on the wall opposite the restroom.
“He's stable,” he tells her, “There were a couple of close calls but he's stable for now.”
She nods, “I talked to Garcia. How are you?”
He shrugs avoiding her knowing gaze.
Dana is probably the most observant person that he knows. She sees him, more than anyone else on their staff, and he knows that she knows.
Dennis is more than just a resident. He's always been more. Robby had fought for months to separate himself from him, to keep things between them completely professional, but the fight had been futile. And one sided. Because while Robby was doing his damnedest to stay away, Dennis was doing his best to get closer. And then Robby had gone on sabbatical and everything had changed.
He swallows hard, another bout of nausea rolling through him.
“I can't, Dana, he's - I don't -”
He doesn't shy away from her when she steps forward and pulls him down into a tight hug.
“I know,” she says softly, “I know. But he's stable. He's young and otherwise healthy. His chances are good.”
The elevator just down the hall dings and Robby straightens. Santos comes barreling toward them.
“Yolanda said he pulled through,” she says frantically, “I want to see him.”
Robby sets a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Go sit with him,” he urges, “He shouldn't be alone.”
Trinity hesitates. He knows that she also knows about him and Whitaker. Dennis had confessed to telling her months ago, unwilling to keep such a monumental secret from his roommate. She'd accepted him as a part of Dennis’ life with much more grace than he deserved and Robby is grateful for her support. He's more than grateful that Dennis has someone like Trinity Santos in his life.
“Are you sure? If you want to -”
He shakes his head, “I'll go in a bit. You should be with him for a while. I need a few minutes anyway.”
When he drops his hand from her shoulder, she takes it in her own and squeezes.
“I'll call if anything changes.”
Robby nods, not trusting his voice, and he and Dana watch her round the corner at the other end of the hall.
Neither of them speaks as they step into the elevator. Once the doors are closed, Robby leans heavily on the wall and closes his eyes.
“Police stopped by while you were upstairs,” Dana tells him, “Driver was an elderly gentleman. Shouldn't have even been driving, no license. Brought him in for bruised ribs and trouble breathing. Disoriented, possibly dementia, the police are still trying to find out more.”
“Any idea what happened?”
“Witnesses said he ran a red light. Whitaker was in the crosswalk.”
“Hit and run?” Robby asks.
She shakes her head, “No, he stopped. Hit a parked car. Thank God Whitaker didn't end up pinned.”
Robby shudders. He can't go there, can't let himself imagine anything worse than what's already happened.
“The driver going to make it?”
Dana nods, “Langdon and Mel were working on him. Seems he'll recover.”
Robby isn't angry. Accidents happen all the time. He's glad the other man will live. That doesn't mean he doesn't wish he could beat the shit out of the person who hurt Dennis. For now, he braces himself for what awaits him in the ED. The elevator reaches their floor and he takes a steadying breath as the doors open.
When he and Dana reach her desk, he clears his throat and calls for his staff to gather around.
“As you all know by now, Dr. Whitaker was involved in an accident outside of the hospital. Vehicle versus pedestrian,” he swallows down yet another round of bile, continues, “Fractured femur, three broken ribs, ruptured spleen. Critical but stable. He'll be in ICU for a few days at least. For now, I'm asking you to respect his privacy as much as possible. Until he's conscious and gives consent, we want to limit his visitors. Santos, as I'm sure you can all imagine, is going to need coverage off and on for the time being. Dana and I will keep you updated if anything changes but for now, please continue working as usual. I know that this is… difficult for all of us. Whitaker is one of us, we all want to be there for him, but we cannot abandon our patients.”
The room around him is as silent as he's ever experienced in an ED but it doesn't last. Soon, people are moving, voices filling the air as doctors and nurses return to their patients.
Dana's hand on his arm catches his attention.
“I called Abbott in, he should be here soon,” she tells him, “Why don't you go back upstairs?”
He glances around, nods, and scrubs a hand over his face.
“Yeah, okay. If someone needs me…”
Dana gives him a gentle nudge and without another word, he makes his way back to Dennis.
*
They run into each other early on a Tuesday morning. The small cafe is a few blocks from the apartment Dennis shares with Trinity. It's not exactly on his way to the hospital but they make the best mocha latte he's found yet so a couple of days a week, he makes the trek before work for his fix. It's nearly six weeks into Robby's sabbatical so when Dennis runs into his attending (literally) as he's stepping through the doors, he's genuinely shocked.
“Oh God, I'm so sorry! Oh. Hi. Hey, Dr. Robby. Wh-what are you doing here?”
He stutters the words out and feels his face immediately heat.
Robby chuckles softly, holds up the to-go cup in his hand.
“No, right. I just meant, what are you doing back? I thought you were still on your trip,” Dennis says, stepping aside to allow other patrons into the coffee shop. The move puts him a hair closer to Robby.
“Had to cut the trip short,” Robby tells him, sipping at his coffee, “Bike didn't make it.”
Dennis takes a step away from Robby, actually getting in the line before it gets out of hand. He's surprised to find Robby has joined him, staying close so they can continue their conversation without raising their voices.
“That sucks, I know how much you were looking forward to the time away.”
Robby shrugs, takes another sip, and says, “Honestly, it wasn't as relaxing as I'd hoped. I missed home more than I thought I would.”
The confession surprises him.
“Really? Well, I'm glad you made it back safe. What, uh, what are you going to do with the last couple of weeks of your time off?”
It's Dennis' turn to order and he makes it quick, ordering his usual from the barista and swiping his card. He and Robby move to the end of the counter to wait.
“Working on some projects around the house. Nothing major, replacing the flooring in one room, throwing up a fresh coat of paint in a couple of others. Some small repairs here and there,” Robby tells him.
Dennis can't help the small smile on his face. This is the most non-work related information he's ever gotten from Robby. They chat at the hospital on occasion but mostly stick to patients and medical techniques. With the exception of their one personal encounter in pedes during the MCI, they've never really shared too much with one another.
“Sounds like that could be relaxing. Certainly less stressful than heading back to the ED,” Dennis picks up his cup and they fall into step with one another as they head towards the door.
Once they're outside, the muggy summer air overwhelming already this morning, Dennis expects Robby to say his goodbyes and head towards home.
He doesn't expect the attending to join him on his walk to the hospital. Although, he doesn't actually know where Robby lives so maybe they're naturally heading in the same direction.
“How are things at The Pitt? How's Dr. Al-Hashimi?”
Dennis hesitates, glances sideways to find Robby focused on the sidewalk ahead of them as he sips his coffee.
“Whatever I say here stays between us, right? Because I do not need this getting back to her.”
He doesn't miss Robby's raised brow as he asks, “That bad?”
With a sigh, Dennis shrugs.
“It's different. She's not you. I just, I mean, she's very… controlling? She doesn't give us the same level of freedom that you do. She wants to always be in charge in every situation. I don't know how we're supposed to learn when she insists on dictating the course of care to us in every case.”
Robby nods.
“That can't be easy,” he says, “Change never is though.”
Dennis snorts, “Drastic change. I think we're all counting down the days until you come back. Santos… Santos sort of hates her.”
Robby’s laugh, a real laugh, catches him off guard.
“Well, you've got a few more weeks with her. Just keep your head down and do the work. I know you, Whitaker, you're a great doctor. Trust your instincts. I'll be back before you know it.”
A pleased flush rushes over him and he hopes that Robby just equates his deepening blush to the August heat. It's stupid, he knows, this little crush he's developed on his attending. But as much as he's tried, it doesn't seem to be something that he can shake. Trinity had caught on, because of course she had, and even in Robby's absence, she loves to tease him. Any time he even breathes a complaint about Al-Hashimi, Trinity just ribs him and blames his dislike of the woman on missing Robby.
Dennis clears his throat, “Thanks, Dr. Robby.”
“We're not at work, Whitaker, you can call me Robby.”
“Right. Sorry. And Dennis is fine, if you want.”
Robby nods, lifts his cup in a touché sort of gesture, and they walk in comfortable silence for a block or two before Dennis speaks up again.
“If you need help with anything, I'm pretty good with my hands.”
The words are out of his mouth before he hears how they sound and he nearly trips over his own feet.
“I just mean, I'm handy. Around the house. Growing up on the farm, I learned a lot about general repairs and whatnot. That's actually why Santos let me move in, she needed some free labor and I couldn't afford…”
His rambling trails off. He almost admitted his financial struggles to Robby. No one, not even Trinity, knows how bad it got before they moved in together. He certainly wouldn't be spilling that little piece of information to Robby today or any day if he could help if.
He clears his throat, “I'm just saying that I'd be happy to help if you ever need a hand.”
Robby claps him on the shoulder with his free hand, gives him a small smile.
“I'll keep that in mind, thanks. Your shift starting soon?”
Dennis checks his watch.
“I should get moving, don't want to be late,” he says, hiking the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder, “It's good to see you, Robby. Can't wait until you're back with us.”
Robby nods, grins, “You, too, Dennis. I'll see you around.”
Dennis stops and watches as Robby checks for traffic before crossing to the other side of the street. He notes the fact that Robby is heading back the way that they came, towards the cafe. He'd walked with him because he wanted to, not because he had to, and the thought makes Dennis grin hard enough that his cheeks ache. It may mean nothing, probably means nothing, but Dennis will keep the realization with him for the rest of the day.
*
The steady mechanical sounds of multiple monitors fill the room.
Dennis is motionless in the bed, seeming so small and frail. His left leg is in traction. They'd placed pins and a plate once Garcia had been able to stabilize him and Robby allows himself to focus on that injury. It's the easiest one to accept. It would be painful, surely, but his leg would heal with time. The other injuries, the broken ribs, the ruptured spleen, the massive blood loss, those too could heal but the recovery would be much harder.
On the other side of Dennis' bed, Trinity sits with her head in her hands. They've both been in the room for hours as they wait for the anesthesia to wear off. Dennis is no longer ventilated, breathing on his own, but Robby can see the way his face scrunches in pain with each little breath. The oxygen cannula in his nose helps but the pain from the broken ribs will make taking big breaths painful for weeks.
An agonized moan breaks the silence of the room and Trinity shoots up in her chair. Robby stands, leaning over Dennis and speaking softly.
“You're okay, slow breaths, try not to move.”
His eyelids flutter as he tries to fight the sedation. It takes a few attempts before blue eyes are finally looking back at him.
Robby smiles weakly, lifting a hand to cup Dennis' face.
“Hey, love.”
Dennis groans, attempts to lift his right arm, and immediately regrets it. His face contorts in pain. Robby presses the button to dispense another dose of Dilaudid as his fingers move into sweat dampened curls.
“I know it hurts,” he says, “I’m sorry. Do you remember what happened?”
His head rolls to one side and Robby reads it as a no.
He glances at Trinity where she's also stood, both hands braced on the bedrail, her knuckles white.
“You were hit by a car. You have three broken ribs, a clean fracture to your left femur. We had to remove your spleen. You're safe. We've got you.”
Tools pool in his eyes and Robby feels his heart break for Dennis. He can only imagine how terrified he must be. As a physician he understands the risks associated with his injuries better than anyone however, at the moment, he’s no longer the physician but the patient. That can be a bitter bill to swallow for anyone.
“Hey Huckleberry,” Trinity says then, putting herself in his line of sight.
He smiles at her weakly, blinking against the bright overhead lights and sending tears rolling down his temples and into his hair.
“You scared the shit out of us,” she tells him, her own smile watery but relieved, “But Dr. Robby is right. You’re gonna be okay now.”
Robby brings the straw to Dennis' lips, offering him a sip of water to help his probably bone dry throat. It takes a beat before he gets it in his mouth but he takes a few tentative pulls before sinking heavily into his pillow.
“Was walking to the cafe,” he gets out, his voice pained and raspy.
Robby nods, “I figured based on where they found you. An elderly dementia patient borrowed his grandson's car, blew the light while you were in the crosswalk.”
Dennis closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. His face is tight with discomfort and Robby wishes more than anything that he could take every ounce of his pain away.
“You're going to be okay,” Trinity insists again, giving his hand a squeeze where it's lying on the bed beside him.
Robby brushes his fingers through Dennis’ curls, pressing dry lips to his forehead. He sits back down, fingers loose around Dennis’ left wrist. He avoids the IV line stuck into the back of his hand but can’t find it in himself to completely let him go. Trinity props herself up on the edge of the bed and holds his other hand.
“Everyone downstairs has been going crazy worrying about you,” she says, “They all wanted to come and check on you but Robby basically put up a six foot fence. Told everyone they had to stay away until you were awake.”
Robby rolls his eyes but doesn’t contradict her.
“Jesus, Huckleberry, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.”
Dennis makes a pained noise and Robby and Trinity share a brief look.
“S-sorry,” he whispers, voice barely audible.
Trinity shakes her head even though Dennis’ eyes remain closed.
“None of that,” she says sternly, “None of this is your fault. I’m just really fuckin’ glad you’re okay.”
Dennis tries to smile but Robby can see that it’s too much effort. It doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out and he’s back under.
Trinity blows out a shaky breath and flops back down into her chair. Robby eyes her for a moment, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled state of her ponytail. It’s been a long few hours for both of them.
“Why don’t you head home for while?” he suggests, “Eat, sleep, shower. You look like you’ve been through hell and back.”
She snorts ruefully, “Pot meet kettle.”
He can’t deny the accusation, he’s sure he looks as wrecked as she does.
“Well one of us should stay here, I don’t want him waking up alone. We’ll swap when you get back.”
She sighs heavily but gives him a stiff nod as she stands.
“Fine. But call me if absolutely anything changes. Please.”
He returns her nod, watching her leave, before turning back to the man in the bed beside him. His fingers stay on Dennis’ wrist as he lays his head against the back of the chair and closes his eyes.
*
When his phone lights up with a text from Robby just four days later, Dennis nearly drops his phone.
Robby: 1563 Oak Bluff
He frowns.
Dennis: ??
Robby: You offered to help. Painting is a very tedious activity. I could use a hand.
He blinks at the text thread. Before today, they've only ever texted about work. He'd sort of forgotten that Robby even had his number.
Dennis: How do you know I'm not at work?
Robby: I have my ways. You don't have to come. I know it's your first day off in a while.
He must've been in contact with Dana or Abbott. He can't think of anyone else that Robby would ask about him.
Dennis: Sure. I'll be there soon.
He lays there for a minute to take stock of what he's wearing. Basketball shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Right. Maybe he should at least attempt to look a bit more put together. But would it be obvious? Would Robby notice? He'd invited him over to help paint, not for a romantic dinner. What he had on was perfectly acceptable painting attire. Except that he'd slept in these shorts and then he'd worked out this morning. Okay. He would take a quick shower and at least throw on clean shorts and another T-shirt. No need to class up the outfit but he doesn't think Robby would appreciate it if he showed up reeking of BO.
He’s ready to head out in less than twenty minutes and when he searches Robby’s address, he finds that it’s less than a fifteen minute walk.
It’s midmorning in August and the air is hot and sticky when he steps outside. Dennis doesn’t mind. He’d grown up spending more time outdoors than in so the muggy summer air doesn’t bother him much.
When he veers left onto Robby’s street, he’s surprised by the neighborhood. It’s older, the houses around him mostly appear to be split, multi-family units. Duplexes and triplexes. They’re all pretty well maintained, manicured yards with neatly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds. He isn’t sure where exactly he expected Robby to live but for some reason, this quaint family neighborhood wasn’t it.
He walks about halfway down the block before coming to a stop in front of a beautiful duplex with a wide porch split down the middle. Both units appear to be identical from the outside, the exterior of the house if painted a greyish blue with bright white trim. The most obvious difference he can see outwardly is the front doors, each a different color. Robby’s unit is on the left and his front door is painted a dark navy blue. It works well with the siding color. His neighboring unit has a bright yellow door that somehow also works.
Dennis hesitates once he’s on the porch, his hand raised to know. Robby invited him here because he’d offered to assist. There’s no other reason, he’s sure, no ulterior motive. But something about this whole thing has him spiraling.
The door opens before he can knock. Suddenly Robby is in front of him. He looks relaxed, more so than Dennis has ever seen him, in cargo shorts and a t-shirt splotched with paint.
“H-Hi.”
Dennis flushes at his stammering and lifts the six pack of beer he’d brought with him. He hadn’t wanted to show up empty handed.
“I know its still early but I figured we could save these for later.”
Robby smiles softly and steps back to allow him in. When he’s fully beyond the door, Dennis freezes. The living room large and opens into what looks like an eat-in kitchen, but the room is completely bare of furniture. In fact, as he looks around, he realizes that the unit appears to be vacant.
“My tenants moved out just before I left last month,” Robby tells him, “I’ve got new tenants moving in in September but the unit needs some repairs before then.”
“You’re a landlord?”
Robby shrugs, taking the beer to the kitchen and storing it in the fridge. Dennis takes in the paint cans lined up under the large window in the living room along with trays and rollers and everything else they’ll need for the task.
“I own the building. Live next door.”
Dennis nods but says nothing. The disparity between their financial situations is very, very obvious to him suddenly. The apartment he and Trinity live in is nice, a two bedroom unit, each with its own bathroom, large enough so they don’t feel like they’re stepping on each other all the time. But he doesn’t even pay rent there. Trinity’s parents cover everything for them, have promised to do so until Trinity finishes her residency, and Dennis is simply riding her coattails. He’s offered to pay her something at least, for intruding on her privacy, but she’s always refused. He may be getting paid now but it’s barely enough to cover his student loans and keeping himself fed. Robby is clearly not struggling. But why would he be? He’s been practicing medicine since Dennis was in diapers, probably. He’s had plenty of time to establish himself, his career. Dennis is barely getting started.
“You okay?”
He snaps out of his internal panic at the sound of Robby’s voice. The attending is back in the living room with him, grabbing a roll of painters tape and holding it out.
Dennis nods, “Yeah, yes, fine. Where do you want me to start?”
“We’re doing the entire living room and the wall going up the stairs. Baseboards and trim need to be taped but we’re not worrying about the carpet, it’s being replaced,” Robby tells him.
He takes the roll of tape and gets started.
They spend the first hour together not actually speaking. Robby is playing music from his phone, something Dennis doesn't recognize, but he finds himself swaying along to the beat as he tapes off baseboards and window frames.
“How've you been?”
Robby's voice startles him so much that the roll of tape he's holding drops and rolls across the floor.
“Geez,” he gasps, lunging for the escaping tape, “Scared the shit out of me.”
Robby laughs, “Forget I was here, Whitaker?”
Dennis shakes his head, resumes his task, and sends a faux annoyed glance in Robby's direction. The other man has already removed outlet covers and light switch plates around the room and has started the first coat of paint on the walls.
The color is nice, a light sage-y green that Dennis thinks is neutral enough.
“Everything's been pretty good, honestly. Been about a year and it feels like Trinity and I have finally found our footing as roommates. At least, she's not threatening to kick me out on the regular anymore. And work is… work is good. It's nice not being the newb anymore. Oglvie and Joy were decent students but we've got two new ones now, Hanson and Faraday. They're both holding their own so far.”
Robby nods and Dennis knows he's listening but he doesn't comment right away. Suddenly the silence feels heavy between them so Dennis keeps talking.
“I know you and Langdon didn't really patch things up before you left but he seems to be doing alright. Getting back into the swing of things, you know? And everyone else is doing well even with all the changes.”
“You mentioned that Dr. Al-Hashimi made some changes. She still pushing generative AI on everyone?” Robby asks.
Dennis snorts, “Uh, yeah. And it's not going well. At least not with the other departments. Seems like every day a patient is sent to a different department with incorrect or missing information in their charts. People using the app aren't taking the time to really proofread their notes. Some of the mistakes have been… critical. There have been a lot of angry attendings coming down to the ED on the regular.”
“Made any of those mistakes yourself?”
Dennis glances over at Robby where he's working on the wall closest to him. He shrugs.
“Once or twice. Thankfully nothing critical. I haven't mentioned it to Dr. Al but I've been avoiding using the AI altogether. May take me longer to get through my reports but at least I trust myself to provide accurate information.”
“Hm. Good call.”
Their conversation falls away again as they continue to work. Robby has all of the windows and doors open to ventilate the paint fumes and the sticky heat wafting in has sweat dripping down Dennis' back. As soon as he's done taping everything off, he grabs a roller and gets started on the wall in front of him.
“This is a nice neighborhood,” he says eventually, “Tree lined streets, all the houses seem well kept. It's pretty. I don't know why but I was surprised when I realized this was where you live.”
Robby chuckles.
“Not sure if that was a dig or not. But you're right, it's nice. Safe. There are a lot of families around, a lot of kids. Most of the time, that's all I hear in the summer. Kids riding bikes down the block, playing in backyard pools. It's good.”
Dennis pauses with a roller in hand, glancing over at the attending. Something about the way he speaks, the tone of his voice, draws Dennis' attention.
“How long have you lived here?”
Robby shrugs, “Fifteen years or so. I bought this place from Dr. Adamson. He was … he was my mentor. This is the house he and his wife raised their kids in. After his youngest got married, he and his wife decided to move further out of town, closer to their grandkids. When I bought it, Dr. Adamson’s sister-in-law was my tenant. She lived in this unit for five years or so, until she moved to assisted living.”
Dennis moves the roller, gets back to work, but he tries to keep Robby talking.
“I think I imagined you living in a nice condo downtown somewhere,” he says softly, “Like, an actual bachelor pad or something.”
It's Robby's turn to snort.
“Okay, now that was a dig.”
Dennis laughs, “No, I just mean that I didn't… I guess I never pictured you living in this family-friendly neighborhood. You seem like someone who really values privacy and I can't imagine you get much of that here. This seems like somewhere where everyone knows everyone else's business.”
The roller in Robby's hand freezes and Dennis wonders if he said something offensive. But then Robby nods and starts up again.
“It reminded me of living with my grandparents. I grew up a couple blocks from here.”
The feeling blooming in Dennis' chest catches him off guard. There's something about Robby opening up to him that makes his pulse quicken just a bit. They've never talked this much. They've known each other for close to a year and Dennis has learned more about Robby in the last two hours than he has in all that time.
He swallows hard and dips his roller into the paint tray, giving himself a moment to settle.
“I grew up on a farm,” he says, even though Robby already knows that about him, “Not just one of those hobby farms but an actual working dairy farm. I started farm chores before I could even talk. Our closest neighbors were a mile away in either direction so I really just grew up with my family.”
“You have brothers, right?” Robby asks.
“Yeah, three of them. I'm the youngest. My brothers run the farm now with my dad,” he says, “They all live on the property with their families. I - I'm the only one who left.”
“To become a doctor. That's gotta be worth something.”
Dennis shrugs, “I guess. They don't exactly feel that way. According to my dad, if I wasn't staying to work the farm like everyone else, I should've gone to seminary after undergrad, not medical school. Being a pastor is a much more fulfilling profession.”
Robby scoffs, “I'm going to have to strongly disagree with your father.”
“Yeah. They weren't exactly supportive when I decided to go to med school, even less so when I told them I was coming to Pittsburgh. But I know I made the right choice. My mom has sort of come around but I don't really talk to anyone back home on the regular. I miss them but this definitely feels like where I'm supposed to be.”
Beside him, Robby continues painting, not speaking but when Dennis glances at him, he seems thoughtful.
“You still visiting Amy at the farm?”
The question catches Dennis off guard. He hesitates for just a second before continuing sliding the roller up and down in front of him.
“No. I - I stopped going after the 4th. I heard what you said that day. I missed home, sure, and working on a farm again gave me some of that back. But it was really guilt that was driving me. And the truth was, I couldn't keep it up indefinitely. So I talked to Amy, told her that I really couldn't keep coming back and that I could maybe help her hire someone, but that I just couldn't do it anymore.”
He remembers that conversation vividly, specifically the way the guilt of quitting on her age him alive. But he'd taken Robby's warning to heart and knew that he was right. It has been time for Dennis to move on.
“She took it okay?” Robby asks.
He shrugs, “Honestly, she wasn't surprised. She said she hadn't expected me to keep coming back as much as I did. Told me she appreciated everything I'd done but that I didn't owe her anything and that I had my own life to get back to. I didn't bother telling her that my life consists of the hospital and nothing else.”
“Sounds like a pretty amicable breakup.”
Dennis fumbles his roller this time and it actually slips from his hand, hitting the floor. Thank god they weren't worrying about the carpet.
“What? Oh, no. Not a breakup. We were friends. That's all. Amy and me, we were never together. I - I'm gay.”