Archive of Our Own

Frank Langdon slumped into the old, faded vinyl chair in the break room. There, the fluorescent hum of the overhead light of the hospital drilled into his skull like a never-ending, insufferable migraine.

His first shift back from rehab, after a ten-month absence—a Fourth of July shift, to top it all off—had finally come to an end, or so he thought. It felt like his body hadn’t caught up to it just yet, not with the way his legs jittered under the table, bouncing a beat he’d developed over all those years in the E.R. Of course, he’d been gone, but those reactions—Frank knew, and always would—were instinct, or rather muscle memory.

He looked up at the clock on the wall, ticking just before 7:30 p.m., mocking him. He should be getting home by now.

Instead, his fingers toyed absently with the gold, loose wedding band on his left hand, twisting it back and forth. On his wrist, along with his anxiety band, his daughter Penny’s bracelet clinked softly as he draped it over his knuckles. I love my daddy, it said in big, colorful letter beads, in between blue heart charms. It’s for good luck, Daddy, she’d told him last night, after he read her bedtime story and told her he would return to work the next day. The memory of her all gap-toothed grin got a smile out of him.

The day’s wreckage replayed in his mind, completely unwelcome. Robby’s words hit first, because of course they would. I don’t know if I want you working in my ER. Said it right to his face, too, eyes cold as the hospital steel doors. Frank hadn’t even known how to react or what to say to that. He just stood there, swallowed the bile, snapped his band against his wrist, and acted like that hadn’t absolutely eviscerated his confidence and ruined his day. The only moment Robby looked at him and offered him anything other than sheer apathy and a veneer of respectability was when Robby thought it in good taste to send a demeaning, unsympathetic, cynical smile his way after belittling Dr. Mohan’s panic attack, thinking that Frank would reciprocate such absurdity and mock her along with him. God, what an asshole he could be sometimes.

And to make matters even worse, his attempt at apologizing to Dr. Santos had been a fiasco. He had tried this time, really tried, to be a better teacher, a teacher she deserved, offering patient explanations, interesting questions and, most importantly, no yelling or being a straight-up asshole. He knew she didn’t have to suddenly start liking him or even accept his apology, but he just wanted her to know he really was sorry. He wanted her to know that if he could take everything back, he would. And since he couldn’t, the least he could do was honestly apologize and recognize his mistake. He’d told her things about his marriage and family that he really shouldn’t have in order to get his point across, and all he got from her was her telling him he should have lost his license and gone to jail, after all, that’s what one deserves when they fuck up.

It didn’t seem to matter that she, as a doctor, should know more than anyone that addiction is a chronic disease rather than a simple fuck-up. It didn’t matter that she, of all people, should know this was not as black-and-white as she thought it to be. It didn’t matter that she’d presented him, a person who had been looking for the help he needed and dealt with all the consequences to get back to where he was now, with an ultimatum that, for him to really atone for his mistake, he should shame himself into telling everyone about what really happened. It didn’t matter that she’d been unprofessional countless times, ten months ago as well as today, even in front of awake and alert patients. It didn’t matter that it didn’t feel like she was mad at him for stealing drugs, but rather for being rude to her on her first day, which he’d also humbly apologized for. It didn't matter that Frank knew he'd been lucky and was extremely grateful and humble to recognize such a privilege. For all of those things, a flicker of frustration and anger twisted in him, too, but he chided himself. Breathed in, then breathed out. You’re the screw-up here.

Sure, he had a few allies: Nurse Donnie had been right by his side the entire day. Nurse Dana had given him her fair share of what she believed to be good and encouraging words, but they made him feel like shit more than anything, if he was being totally honest here. But, oh, well, beggars can’t be choosers. It had been, at least, some kind of support. Dr. McKay had been a nice surprise, though. Nine years into sobriety now, she’d talked to him and offered him her support, telling him he should call her if he ever needed anything. They were glimmers of approval, fragile but precious. However, it was really hard to think of them as enough to drown out the echo of the moments where Whitaker made sure he was the one responsible for Louie’s medication, not Frank; Santos’s words as well as Dr. Al-Hashimi’s sudden behavior shift towards him, which probably indicated that she had found out what really happened; and Robby’s dismissal and indifference.

He looked down at his arms sprawled on the table before snapping the rubber band on his wrist against his skin there, as he had done every day for almost three months now. It didn’t do much, but he realized he’d rather do this than do nothing to relieve the stress, the anxiety and the urge.

He felt it down to his bones, that feeling of unworthiness. Second-guessing every triage patient, every suture, every order. It was inappropriately funny the way he felt like he was taking so much space in such a big hospital. The gnawing feeling of being an intruder there was a problem that he couldn’t get out of his head. It haunted him, to think that he didn’t deserve this. The words “incompetent” and “undeserving” clawed at him, even as he knew that it wasn’t entirely true. It just could not be. Frank couldn’t bear it if it were.

He touched his phone, Tanner’s and Penny’s smiles lighting up the screen. As he got into the break room after finishing his shift, he tried to call his wife. He wanted to try and vent a little bit through a phone call, maybe it’d be easier to start like this instead of face-to-face, at home, where it was more difficult for Frank to hide.

Ms. Jones, their couples counseling therapist, had emphasized to them the need for communication if they wanted to make their marriage work, especially in this new chapter of their lives, or, in his wife’s words, the moment everything came crashing down, all thanks to you, Frank. 

Ms. Jones emphasized this because Frank had found the guts to speak up and share his discontentment regarding where they stood. He’d shared that things hadn’t been good in a long time because he hadn’t felt seen or heard by Abigail. He felt like a stranger in his own home. Though, with the way Abby hadn’t even bothered to pick up the damn phone or return his texts, he was just reminded that he was the one putting in all the effort here. He pushed the phone face down onto the table and buried his face into his hands. 

Abby. God, Abby. Their marriage was a house of cards. It had already been crumbling under spoken resentments they’d collected about each other over the almost ten years they’d been married and that they’d never shared because of their communication problem. Deep down, Frank knew that their current situation was not entirely his fault, but Abby’s daily, casual reminders of how things could’ve been different were he not a junkie contained a grain of truth.

And so Frank knew she was playing pretend. She was playing pretend for the kids, mostly, for her family, and for herself, even. She pretended when she talked to Tanner and Penny, and said Daddy’s great. She pretended when her mother called, and said we’re great. She pretended when Frank asked how she was doing, and she just became avoidant and dodgy, saying—you guessed it—I’m great.

Because no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing great about any of this. There was nothing great about how home was a minefield now because he never knew which version of Abby he’d get. He didn’t know if he’d get the angry version of her that made him sleep on the couch despite the return of his back pain, which he hadn’t told her about—communication be damned—or the version of her that was desperate for normalcy, that craved nothing but physical intimacy, all mechanical and mercifully quick, a flimsy patch for their widening cracks, her eyes on the ceiling and his mind elsewhere. 

He’d do that because a part of him liked to think that hey, maybe this time it could work. However, it never did. He hated that. He craved words, real ones, not meaningless whispers that led them nowhere. He wanted to vent the frusrations boiling in his chest. He wanted to feel like he belonged in his own skin again; that he had a purpose. He wanted to feel anything other than a burden. He wanted to celebrate the rare and small victories. He wanted to not be scared of being vulnerable. He wanted to be seen and understood. He wanted to just breathe and not feel like that was a fucking chore.

More often than he liked to admit, Frank wondered if things would have been easier had he simply gone through with it when Abby threatened to divorce him. Yeah, so much for “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.” She’d shown no compassion whatsoever to his sickness. It scared him, to feel that there seemed to be not an ounce of love for him in her body. But, despite that, Abby had decided to stay. She’d started to show him a little veneer of understanding, and so Frank felt compelled to stay, too. She endured all of your shit show, and now you will endure this. Frank knew it was for the kids. He knew she’d rather pretend that nothing happened and get whatever she wanted from him instead of facing their problems head-on and try to work on them. 

But Frank wasn’t happy. He hadn’t been happy in a long, long time.

Shifting in his chair, he huffed, fingers running through his sweaty hair. He tried to hold onto the positive things that had happened. His thoughts drifted to the closest moments he’d had to happiness that day, and, surprisingly, most of them were all connected to Dr. Melissa King. Mel. The one person who pierced the fog without trying.

Flashes from the shift where they met ten months ago and the shift they’d shared today warmed the cold knot in his gut, moments being replayed in his mind like a goddamn film montage: how Mel had always been willing to work with him; how she’d taught him the importance of trying new approaches and being more empathetic in order to understand patients better; how Mel showed her sensitivity and embraced it because of him; how Mel became his favorite trainee in less than a day; how she seemed to have been the only one who had noticed his absence before the MCI happened that day; how her excitement didn’t seem to fit in her body when she’d noticed he was back in the ER as she greeted him; how they shared a laugh over a stupid inside joke from ten months ago that Frank could have sworn Mel would’ve forgotten about by now, eyes locking across the nurses’ station proving him wrong. You never let me down, she had said to him, her voice soft like cashmere, when he apologized to her; how she knew her sister Becca was in good hands when being treated by Frank during her deposition; how, apparently, Mel says a lot of nice things when she talks to Becca about him.

Those little smiles whenever their paths crossed in the ER, a nod here, a quirk of her lips there. They anchored him, those moments with Mel. They anchored him and terrified him in equal measure because, in his gut, Frank knows he had never felt this way before. He had never wanted something as much as he wanted this, whatever this is. They scared him because he didn’t feel worthy of such a great, full feeling, yet all he could do was be selfish about it and want it even more. 

In such little time of knowing each other, Melissa pulled the best out of him effortlessly. With her, Frank glimpsed the good doctor he knew he had in him to be, the man worth rooting for. He knew he could be good when he wanted to be, and it seemed like that side of him only came alive whenever she was around. It all felt wild and scary, though, because with the way she simply saw him, let him breathe, it felt like he’d known her for a lifetime. It scared the shit out of him because there was this kind of pull towards her that Frank didn’t know where it came from or how to avoid it or even if he wanted it to stop; it was as though he just needed her desperately, and he didn’t know why.

He knew it was weird. He knew it was weird that he simply gravitated towards her, needing her in ways that transcended any feeling he'd felt before. 

He just couldn’t understand why he didn’t really care.

The staff room door swung open with a hiss, jolting him out of his spiral. There she was, as if the mere thought of her had summoned her presence. Mel King, shedding her denim jacket over her green “Earth, my kind of friend” T-shirt like a second skin and dark blue jeans, was oblivious to the shadowed corner where Frank sat. Her blond hair was in her signature braid, a few strands framing her face along with her glasses; her worn cross-body bag slung over one shoulder. She was muttering things to the empty air, voice frayed at the edges, like his own had been all day—kind of thick enough to choke on—completely unaware of the fact that she wasn’t alone. The only thing Frank could make out when she closed her locker door was thought today would never be over.

Frank’s breath caught. She hadn’t seen him yet; she seemed too lost in her own post-shift haze to do so. He should say something. He should stand up, say goodbye, wish her a Happy Fourth, and go home. But something pinned him there, Penny’s bracelet still tangled in his fingers, wedding ring glinting like a guilty secret. For a heartbeat, the room held its breath along with him; hurt thrumming in his veins, comfort so close he could almost taste it.

He was so exhausted that he decided not to fight it. He lifted his gaze.

She froze mid-stride, then, when her eyes landed on him in the corner. 

“Oh, Dr. Langdon, I—Sorry,” she blurted out. “Didn’t see you there, didn’t mean to interrupt.” There was nothing to interrupt, really, just him and his ghosts, but the apology tumbled out anyway, as he often heard her say more than one had to in a single day.

He clocked it immediately, the tension coiling in her shoulder, the way her free hand clenched the bag strap. A weak smile tugged at her lips, awkward and tentative, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes and crinkle her crow’s feet. He noticed that she lowered her head, heading toward the door, opening her mouth to say goodbye.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice low in a gentle probe before he had time to stop it. 

There was a confused furrow in her brow, then, eyes widening as if she was some sort of scared wild animal. A rabbit, kind of. More like a bunny: soft edges, quick to bolt. She looked around, and that gave Frank the impression she was checking to confirm that Frank had, in fact, been talking to her. She didn’t say anything, just nodded, still a little taken aback.

He gestured to the chair across the scarred table, the motion casual but inviting. He mirrored her restrained smile with one of his own. “Wanna sit?”

Mel hesitated a beat before taking timid steps towards the table, her sneakers squeaking very quietly. She slid into the seat, her bag thumping to the floor. As she sat across from him, she asked, “You?”

“Same,” Frank nodded, pressing his lips together instead of looking at her.

They breathed in each other’s silence. That slightly awkward moment stretched: both just nodding, yeah, life’s tough echoing in their heads. Mel shifted in her seat, chair creaking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” They both asked at the same time.

If there had been some kind of weird tension before, it had completely dissipated with the way laughter bubbled up, surprising them both. It was ragged, but soft and genuine, and it cut the tension like a scalpel through scar tissue. Their eyes locked, blue on brown, holding the moment for a second too long. Frank felt the air thicken around him. The ring he’d been toying with slipped from his fingers. For a brief moment, all that could be heard was its thud against the table before Frank picked it up and put it back on his finger.

She broke eye contact first with a small tilt of her head, gaze dropping to the table. “You okay?”

The words hung soft in the air between them. He sensed it in her posture. The subtle lean back, the way her fingers drummed once on the table. She wanted him to talk first. She’d unspool easier if he led, he thought, if he cracked the seal. Fair enough. 

He was really going to do this, eh? Lay it all bare.

The words spilled out haltingly at first, like blood from a nicked vein: slow, then steady. Admitting it out loud was hard, but that’s what he wanted to do, wasn’t it? “It’s just weird. Being back. At the same time it feels like I never left, everything’s flipped upside down.” He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. Sitting back on the chair, he put his hands behind his head, Penny’s bracelet moving loosely down his arm. “I’m just wondering if I’m really ready to be back here.”

“Of course, you are,” Mel said, encouraging and lovely. She really was the only beacon of hope in this place, even after the hell of a day she’d had.

“Not sure Robby would agree with you,” Frank let out a bitter huff. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, as he fidgeted with his fingers, twisting, yet again, his wedding ring because Abby had said the same thing. You’re not ready, Frank. Her voice still echoed from their last fight, kids asleep down the hall.

“Just between us, Dr. Langdon,” She leaned in, glancing spy-like over both shoulders at the empty room. It thrilled him, the way she’d said it. She pondered a beat, mischievous smile unfurling slowly, “Is Dr. Robby ever agreeable to anything?”

She had her jokes. He smiled at her, and she looked pleased with herself. Well, Robby was agreeable to anything Mel did because Mel was an impeccable doctor, but he knew that that had been Mel’s attempt at making him feel better, so he soaked in the comfort and appreciated it.

“Not really, no,” Frank replied, not bothering in the slightest to hide his chuckle. “But to say he’s got it out for me is an understatement. Told me he doesn’t know if he wants me working in his ER.” The hurt flashed raw in his eyes, stinging and unguarded. He cleared his throat.

Even though Mel didn’t open her mouth, her eyes were doing all the talking for her. She was paying attention to anything he was willing to share.

“You know, last year…I screwed up with Dr. Santos,” Frank confessed, unsure of whether Mel had heard about the incident. “I’m pretty sure you must have heard all about it by now.”

“I haven’t,” she said, shaking her head very slowly, with all the patience in the world, “and even if I had, I’d still rather hear from you. Do you want to tell me what happened?” Mel asked, all careful, as if Frank were a wild animal this time and she was afraid of scaring him away. As if she could ever.

“It doesn’t matter that she was at fault; nothing justifies the way I handled it. I yelled at her, and I was mean. God, just thinking about it now makes my blood boil. I was an asshole.” Frank continued, “I talked to her today, apologized, but it didn’t go anywhere. I don’t know what I was expecting. Definitely something less bad than what it actually was.” He sat with his words for a few seconds, then sighed, closing his eyes. “I just wanted to be a good mentor and a good doctor.”

“You are a great mentor, Dr. Langdon,” Mel said, as if shocked he’d thought anything less than that about himself. “And an even better doctor. We need you here. I know I do.”

She was so lovely it was unfair. Little did he know, back then, that he needed her more than he thought he did.

He was ashamed to talk about it, especially when he knew that Mel saw him in a good light, but he felt it was necessary. He felt like he was lying to her, although he didn’t owe her anything regarding his personal life. However, he’d rather deal with the blow of losing Mel’s friendship now than after opening up even more. 

That thought didn’t comfort him in the slightest.

He breathed in. It’s now or never, he thought. God, this was going to break him. He breathed out.

“There’s a reason why Dr. Santos doesn’t like me and why Robby doesn’t want me here,” Frank started, then looked away, unsure of how to continue. “My addiction was not the only problem. The benzos I told you about? Um, there’s no way to put this lightly,” he hesitated, letting out a short, hurt laugh despite himself. “They were my patients’ meds.”

Mel just looked at him. There was no hint of anger or shock in her expression, just softness, all the way. Frank couldn’t help but wonder if she understood what he’d meant.

“Oh, Dr. Langdon,” Mel said, her voice dropping to a quiet whisper. “Thank you for trusting me with this. It must be tearing you apart.”

“A junkie who steals drugs,” Frank shook his head. “Not that great of a mentor and doctor anymore, am I right?” Frank asked, begging God not to let her answer this. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

“This doesn’t change what I think of you. It doesn’t define you, either,” she said. So she really was simply too good, too kind to make him feel anything other than comforted after such a confession. “But getting the help you need does. Talking about it and not letting it consume you does. This doesn’t make you any less of a great mentor or doctor, Dr. Langdon.”

He’d been so used to people looking down on him or shaming him into thinking negative things about himself that her words of kindness caught him off guard. He ran his hands through his hair, strands sticking wild, a heavy sigh rattling his ribs like loose change in a tin. He looked up, swallowing hard the urge to cry. Fuck. No crying. Not in front of her.

“I committed a crime, Mel,” he said, frustration surging like bile. “What the fuck was I thinking?” he wondered out loud. No sooner had he cursed than he felt the need to apologize. He opened his mouth to do so, but she beat him to it.

“We both know that was the addiction talking; it’s not the real you,” Mel said, voice so soft. “You clearly feel genuinely sorry about it. You took accountability for what you’ve done. You’ve been paying the price. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over this more than you already have.”

“Things have been worse at home and it’s all my fault. With Micah earlier today, I almost lost it. It hits different when they’re that age. Makes me think of my kids. Just thinking about losing them in any way, and I got so close to that happening, I—” horror crashed post-blurt. Holy fuck, what the hell just came out of my mouth? Accidental gut-spill to a colleague, married man vomiting family drama like therapy hour gone rogue. Visible flush crept up his neck. “Uh—shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to air that laundry.” Mel shook her head, unfazed. There was only a subtle, worried furrow in her brows. “I just don’t know if I can come back from this.”

“But you already have, from where you’re at, you just don’t see it,” Mel said. “You’ve been getting the help you need; that’s half the battle, right there. You know this. You’re back in a triggering place for you, willing to stay clean and win back the trust of those who matter to you. It’s very honorable,” Mel continued, emphasizing her point by tapping the table lightly with her finger. “And about Dr. Robby and Dr. Santos, they should know that when you’re so willing to get better, punitive behavior doesn’t help in the slightest.”

“I did screw up with them, though,” Frank admitted, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Said things I shouldn’t have said.”

“But you’ve already apologized for being out of line,” Mel replied softly. “And from what you’re telling me, and from what I’ve noticed, you’ve been trying to be better. I’m sure you wouldn’t do any of it again.”

“God, no,” he muttered, shaking his head emphatically, a rueful grimace twisting his features as he rubbed the back of his neck.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes warm and unwavering, the faint scent of her lavender perfume drifting across the desk. “Making mistakes and learning from them is what makes us human, Dr. Langdon.” A small pause hung between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

This woman, Frank thought, a flicker of gratitude warming the knot in his chest.

“Nah,” He said, forcing a nonchalant shrug, though his voice cracked, betraying the raw vulnerability beneath. “You just being here helps more than you can imagine.”

She offered him a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine empathy, before murmuring, “You’re not alone, okay? If there’s any risk or if you just need to talk, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’ll help. I’ll listen. No one’s getting hurt on my watch, and that includes you, Dr. Langdon. You can get through this.”

“I think you believe in me more than I believe in myself, Mel,” Frank confessed, his tone laced with quiet awe, the weight of her faith settling over him like a blanket.

She shrugged, a light titter bubbling from her lips, her shoulders shaking gently with the sound, a few stray strands of blond hair swaying loosely around her face, like a hypnotic pendulum.“Well, if that’s what it takes.”

Frank managed a small, crooked smile, his heart thudding inexplicably in his chest.

What’s going on with me today? he wondered.

“And since I’m playing the world’s smallest violin here, being clean’s harder than I thought. Look,” he said, drawing her attention to his wrist. The skin underneath his anxiety band was irritated and indented. If he was finally opening up, after craving it for so long, he might as well be as vulnerable and honest as he could be. He pressed his left index and middle fingers on his right wrist. “Had the craving so many times today. And my back’s hurting again,” he complained, a dry chuckle escaping him. Funny, because he felt on the brink of tears. “Can’t pick Penny up and twirl her around anymore. Tanner loves to roughhouse, and now I can’t even do that,” Frank mentioned casually—as if that didn’t absolutely break his fucking heart—aware that it was the first time he’d mentioned his kids’ names to Mel.

Frank fished his phone from the table, still no calls or texts from Abby. Figures. Frank could feel Mel's gaze lingering on him, her eyes dark with curiosity. He unlocked it with a swipe, and slid it toward Mel. The screen glowed with a photo: Tanner, gangly and grinning in a football jersey, hugging, in all his older brother glory, Penny in pigtails, mid-laugh as her brother embraced her. 

All excited, Mel’s gaze softened with a mix of tenderness and hesitation, her thumb awkwardly hovering over the screen’s edge as she stared at the photo, as if she were scared to touch the phone and smudge it somehow.

Maybe she shouldn’t have touched it, Frank thought grimly. Maybe I shouldn’t have been having this conversation at all.

“They’re lovely. They’ve got your eyes,” Mel said softly, her voice warm and genuine as she handed the phone back. At a particular turn of her head, the overhead light of the break room illuminated her face, highlighting that little mole she had by her right eye. “I’m sure they treasure every moment they get with you.”

"They are the best," Frank said, watching as Mel nodded along with his statement. 

“And about your back pain,” Mel continued, “you could always try physio. Or even Pilates—I’ve heard it does wonders for the body,” Then, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest, she leaned in slightly and asked, “Did anything good happen today? I always try to focus on the positives.”

Yeah, he could try that.

“Hm,” Frank said, pondering for a moment as he leaned back in his chair. “Working with you’s always great. Thought a patient of mine had eaten 351 hotdogs, but it turns out it was only 36,” Frank said, air-quoting the word only to highlight the fun anecdote. “Oh, there were also the Fort Pitt Museum guys. That was fun.”

Mel’s mouth dropped open. What clearly meant surprise, Frank mistook it for confusion. “You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, here, I’ll show you,” he unlocked his phone with the intention of Googling “Fort Pitt Museum”.

At that momnent, his screen finally lit up with a text from Abby. 

Hey. Sorry. Couldn’t check my phone earlier. U coming home?  Kids are @ my parents’.

That was normalcy-seeking Abby talking. Shit.

Of course, Tanner and Penny were at her parents’. Frank had, for a second, forgotten that she’d decided everything about this family holiday, not bothering in the slightest to know whether or not Frank wanted to spend said family holiday with his children. 

He did, by the way. Honestly, they were the only ones keeping him going.

He locked his phone, his exhausted face reflecting in the dark screen.

“No, no, no, I know who they are!” Mel laughed, waving her hands as her mouth snapped shut. “They were really here?” 

Now that was a surprise. Frank didn’t know of anyone who would’ve reacted to this like Mel just did. Except for himself, of course. Most people he knew either despised history or made fun of him for enjoying it so much.

Had Frank known Mel was a history nerd like him, he’d have snapped a picture to show her later. Maybe he’d have called her to see them and treat them with him. 

He nodded. “Yeah, in character and everything,” Frank replied, a grin tugging at his lips as he watched her eyes sparkle with genuine excitement. 

Cute. 

I mean, cool. Cool.

“Oh, man,” she added, a playful pout forming on her lips. He quickly looked away. “I can’t believe I missed it. Those costumes always look so nice.”

Frank straightened on the chair, wincing slightly at a sharp tug of his back after holding the same position for more than he should have. He should really change the subject. “But enough about me. I asked about your deposition earlier, but you didn’t say a word. How was it? Must’ve been stressful. You okay?”

Mel’s smile from before faded fast, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of the table as Frank’s question hung in the air. She met his eyes, opening her mouth, then closing it, clearly hesitating. She breathed in, kind of like mustering up the courage to let it all out or to give herself more time to think where to begin.

“You know,” she said softly, voice laced with quiet surprise. “You’re the first person to actually ask me that. Everyone else just kept saying it’d be okay or that it wasn’t a big deal because I’m protected by the hospital. As if platitudes fix a malpractice lawsuit. Or the way I’m supposed to feel about it.”

Frank held her gaze, patient. There was a buzz coming from the table, right underneath his hand, signaling another message from Abby. He quickly tuned it out.

A weak, sad laugh escaped her. “You know, Dr. Robby said I can’t talk about the case, but I can talk about how I feel, though he could not spare a second to listen to me. Same for everyone else. Pretty sure they didn’t want to listen, were just being polite,” she said as if she were used to it, sinking into the chair as she exhaled, shoulders dropping as the tension uncoiled in fits and starts, and she fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “I’m not supposed to talk about it with anyone, though I know I did everything in mypower to perform it as well as I could. I know I didn’t make a mistake.”

Frank knew it, too. He’d heard the play-by-play from the nurses through whispers in the hallways, and they all said Mel had been brilliant, working under all that pressure from the parents and not letting it affect her. Well, Frank knew that already, but he still wished he could’ve seen her perform that spinal tap perfectly.

He could sense one coming, so he asked, all curious, “But…?” 

She crossed her arms, then sighed.

“But what’s been driving me crazy is doctors in this hospital telling me I have no reason to be worried. Or upset. I think I’m being pretty sensible when I say nobody would like to be sued. As doctors, they should know that being in the right doesn’t eliminate the severe emotional, professional, and personal toll this takes on someone. It’s a lengthy process. Anxiety’s been eating me alive for weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep because I’m too worried it will stick to my record and jeopardize my reputation. It terrifies me that I have to say the right thing while being under those bright lights and that much pressure, while having my integrity and competence questioned the entire time. Especially when the family’s lawyer noticed I get easily nervous and is purposefully trying to make me say the wrong thing. Things don’t usually work out the way I want them to, Dr. Langdon,and this simply has to go well. There’s a lot I’m responsible for…I need this job more than anything.”

Frank is pretty sure he’d never heard Mel speak as much in one go as she just did. 

“People tell you that?” Frank asked, ticked off at the way people had handled this. God, what was wrong with people these days? He watched as Mel bobbed her head. “Mel, that’s bullshit. You have every right to feel the way you feel. Though I have to go down the cliché route and say this is about a negative outcome, you know? Not a lack of effort, care, or attention on your part. These things are common, and they’re usually more about compensation than competence. You’re a skilled, brilliant doctor, Mel. It’s okay to take this personally—I definitely would have, too—but don’t let it shake you. It will not define your career, I’m sure of it. Focus on what you can control.” Frank tried to encourage her and show his support. “I’m here to listen; you don’t have to carry this alone. Okay?”

She nodded, heat blooming in her cheeks. She ducked her head, biting her lip to hide the pleased curl of her mouth, fingers twisting the hem of her top. She looked at him over her glasses, as if she couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. “Thank you, Dr. Langdon.”

He watched her, reading the subtle tells: the averted eyes, the ways her leg bounced under the table. There was more bubbling under the surface. Maybe it was about Becca? She had been pretty shaken up about her earlier. Maybe it was about something else. Whatever it was,she wasn’t done. And he could wait. It’s not like he had somewhere else to be.

His phone unironically vibrated under his palm. Well, about that.

Can't wait to c u

She’s got good timing today, huh?, he thought ironically as he put his phone in the front pocket of his dark blue jacket.

Frank’s brow furrowed, worry etching deeper lines across his forehead, thoughtful, not prying. “Has anything else been bothering you?” He asked in the quiet room. 

Mel hesitated again, then let it pour. “My car broke down yesterday. Battery, probably, but with everything I have going on, I haven’t had time to get that checked out. It’s whatever,” she waved it off with a tired flick of her hand, but he could see right through her. “I don’t wanna talk your ears off. I don't even know why I'm telling you this.”

It was his turn to give her a flick of his hand, tsking gently and shaking his head. It felt like Mel didn’t want to keep talking in case she was bothering him with her vents.

“Because I asked, Mel. It's okay," he said like it was the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. She looked surprised. "And I assume there’s…Becca?” He tilted his head, willing to listen. “We couldn’t finish our conversation earlier. Do you wanna talk about it?”

She averted his gaze, as if ashamed to confess what was next. “I don’t know, Dr. Langdon. You’re her doctor and…it’s just embarrassing.”

“Mel, I can assure you, nothing you’re willing to say can be as embarrassing as my confessions. Plus, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? You can be as vague as you want. I’ll try to fill in the gaps.”

She pondered, pressing her lips together. She leaned in, positioning her elbows on the table. Their hands were very close, now, Frank noticed, his skin prickling with the proximity. 

“I thought we were best friends,” Mel’s voice dipped, spiraling now, words tumbling faster. “Turns out she has a whole life I know nothing about because she never told me, when I thought we told each other everything. I didn’t like learning that she probably lies and keeps things from me.” Her fingers clenched into loose fists on the table, knuckles paling. “But I don’t know. I guess it’s like Dana said, this isn’t about me. I should stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“Dana say that to you?” Frank asked, incredulous. 

“Yeah,” Mel replied, not really aware of the fact that that had been an awful piece of advice to say to someone in Mel’s situation.

“How on earth is that good advice? She’s been saying some weird things, I swear. Guess all her sensitive speeches go to Robby,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “How is this not about you? Before being her caregiver, you’re her sister. A great sister, at that.”

There it was, that adorable tilt of her head, probably considering that piece of information for the first time in a long time.

“I’ve been so used to looking after her in a caregiver way that I don’t know if I remember what it’s like to be her sister,” she said. “Couldn’t help but think I might have some preconceived ideas about her. I feel awful for resisting the agency she clearly wants, but worrying about her is all I’ve done in so long. I know it might have seemed like I overstepped with her earlier, I just—”

“No, I’m sorry I gave you that impression. You have every right to feel hurt, Mel. Worried. Angry, even.”

“I just don’t know why she doesn’t want to tell me things? It’s not like I have things going on in my life, but I always tell her everything. We journal together. I’m so pissed. I feel betrayed. Isn’t that stupid? God, I really could have handled this better.”

Frank’s chest tightened as he watched her unravel. She’s too hard on herself, he thought. He wishes she could see what he sees: the fierce, brilliant doctor who holds it all together with empathy and kindness all of the time, the one who listens without judging. 

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have to, Mel. It’s not stupid. You’re allowed to feel negative feelings, too, you know?”

Mel straight-up laughed at him. 

Her voice cracked, softer, “Yeah, well, I fucking hate it,” she cursed out.What a box of surprises, she was. “Ugh, I feel awful. I don’t want to be bitter towards her. Don’t want to feel jealous.” She pondered, then, quietly, “I just thought that if I had one person I could count on, it’d be Becca, but not even that is true anymore.”

Frank asked, brow furrowed with gentle concern, “How come?”

“Taking care of her is all I’ve known. Even when our parents were around, I was always the one who helped or the one who had no other choice but to be there for her. Sometimes I just wanted to be angry that she’d taken my favorite doll, you know. Or my colored pencils. But my parents wouldn’t let me. Or understand when I ended up doing it anyway,” Mel said, a little teary-eyed. She looked up as if calming herself down. “Did you know I went into medicine because of her?” Mel asked, nodding right after Frank shook his head. “Yeah. And I’ve seen Elf 164 times because of her. I hate that movie, but because it’s her, I sit through it. I'd do it all over again because she's my sister and I love her. Even though I’m tired all the time. Because if I’m not of service, I feel worthless. I feel like I have no purpose. I don’t know who I am if I’m not taking care of her, and that’s scary. I'm scared that I'm not needed anymore. I’m angry and scared to realize that I’ve been watching my life go by on the sidelines all this time. I’ve been giving so much of myself to her that I have nothing left for myself.”

She breathed in. A tear slipped down her cheek. It made Frank want to wipe it away while holding her face gently in his hand. Embarrassed, she sniffed and wiped it away with her finger, bumping her eyeglasses frame against her nose a little clumsily. She looked up, though her lips were still trembling and her eyes were a little red from holding back the tears. She breathed out.

Frank wanted to hold her hand.

“That sounds heavy, Mel. That’s love, but that’s also a lot to carry,” Frank said. “You’ve built your whole life around her, and realizing that your life’s been on stand-by must feel like losing your footing.”

“I’ve been fighting for her to have a good life, a good time, and now that she’s been living hers to the fullest, I’m stuck. I’ve been so laser-focused on catering to her every need that I haven’t had time to know my own. Or to be myself. Like, ever.” A self-pitying laugh escaped, wry and hollow. 

“You’ve got your own light, Mel. Your own spark. Maybe it’s time to rediscover it, even if it’s scary at first. And maybe you could start by taking care of yourself, too, take some time for yourself, learn a new hobby. Rediscover yourself. Still, I think you should try to talk to Becca. Listen to what she has to say, but be honest with her about your feelings. It’d be great if you were open to talking to a therapist, too.” Frank tried comforting her. "Just think about who you can discover yourself to be once you get off the sidelines and take the wheel, huh? The possibilities are endless."

She nodded, a weak, barely-there smile forming on her lips as she took it all in. She scoffed, tilting her head again and rolling her eyes in feigned annoyance.

“On a lighter note, she’s out there having a good time with her friends at Middle Hill, she’s got a boyfriend, they’ll be together forever, and I’m friendless and the most action I’ve got in years was this patient flirting with me today, saying he liked my hair and asking if I drink coffee,” she said, air-quoting the word action.

Frank smiled before processing what she’d just said. The smile on his face dropped way too quickly at his understanding of the situation.

Oh?

Langdon froze. Suddenly, there was this loud ringing in his ear.

Whatever it was, it didn’t come as a realization. It came as a physical sensation, a cold knot in his stomach. He felt dizzy, this weird pressure in his chest, and like the world was about to end. He shifted in his chair.

Mel’s laugh tapered off into a smirk, eyes glinting with sad irony. “Found it so exciting that I wasn’t even bothered when he turned out to be a criminal.”

Frank’s eyes widened, pieces clicking. “Wait—he’s the one who pushed you? Made you fall and hit your head?”

“Yep,” she confirmed, popping the “P” and rubbing her temple absently. “Talk about a first impression.”

What the actual fuck.

He snapped the rubber band harder than today’s urges demanded, a red welt blooming instantly. Jaw clamped, teeth grinding audible in his skull; a dry swallow stuck halfway. His knee slammed under the table with his bouncing. Thunk-thunk-thunk.

He didn’t know what made him ask what followed, but it’s not like he could’ve helped it, either. No sooner had he said it than he regretted it. 

“And you liked him?" Frank asked, his voice sounding a little too loud in the room. He shook his head. Reformulate. "I mean… it? The flirting?”

What does it matter if Mel liked it? What exactly was he doing, and where was he trying to go with this?

The question definitely blindsided her. Surprise flickered across her face, confusion all over it, too. “He said he liked my hair because it reminded him of his mother. It’s not like I’m an expert at these situations, but I feel like that’s a little weird, right?” Mel asked. Frank just bobbed his head, trying to alleviate the tension in his jaw. Who the hell says that? He thought, then worried he might have said that out loud.

"I know right?" Mel said, letting out a snort, incredulous laugh. Shit. He did say that out loud. "Then he asked me what I like to do for fun.”

“What’d you say?” Frank asked, way too boldly for his own liking.The hum of the hallway lights seemed to get louder. He felt a hot flush rise up his neck.

“That’s the weird part. I didn’t really know what to answer. It took me a while to think of something. That was kind of sad,” she pondered, a quiet and disappointed huff of air filling the space between them. “But, I mean, yeah, I guess it was a nice distraction. From the deposition, the stress. Harmless, as weird as it was.”

Oh, she’d liked it. Okay.

That’s fine. 

Frank didn’t really know why he was feeling like he might as well be having a stroke.

He knew it wasn't fair to make this about himself, especially when Mel was excited about it. He knew that he had no reason—or right—to be bothered. And so he decided he wasn't, or, at least, tried to convince himself of that.

He nodded. Then realized that he nodded too fast. Frank’s pulse kicked up, nerves bubbling over before he could corral them. Words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered and completely inappropriate, “I could’ve been your distraction.”

If she weren’t looking right at him, he’d have palmed his face in exasperation for his own absurdity.

Mel’s breath hitched, visibly flustered, her eyes widening, a flush creeping up her neck, hand fluttering to tuck an errant strand of hair. The air around them was charged with something Frank didn’t dare entertain. Frank’s mind raced over 300 miles an hour. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but he told himself that he was merely concerned. It was all just protective instinct; he was looking out for his coworker in a strictly friendly, platonic way.

“I mean—” He backpedaled fast, palms up, voice pitching earnest in a crack. “Y-You could’ve talked to me. You can. Anytime. About anything. You’ve got this, Mel. And I got you.”

Mel’s expression softened, gratitude flickering in her eyes as she traced the edge of the table with her fingertip. “I will try. Thank you, Dr. Langdon, for this and for taking such good care of Becca. She also thinks you’re a good doctor.”

He chuckled, low and warm, the sound easing the last of the room’s tension. “I learned from the best.” He knew better than to leave it at that. He gestured at her, making sure he knew he was talking about her. A beat, then quieter, he saw the opportunity, and he took it. As selfish as it was, he allowed himself to have this one thing today. “Becca told me you say a lot of nice things about me.”

Her eyes snapped to his, a flush creeping back, as if she’d been caught. “Oh, no, no, I can’t believe she told you that,” she laughed, embsrrassed, ducking her head. 

“So it is true,” Frank said, leaning in, teasing lilt in his voice.

“I do tell her everything,” Mel said, looking at him through her glasses before looking away. “I couldn’t help it, I think. I’m sorry, if…if that made you un—”

“Mel, come on,” Frank said earnestly, no ill intent in his interruption. “You could never.”

Mel looked at him, then. Really looked at him. She did not avert her gaze this time; she held it instead, soft and inviting. A buzz signaled yet another notification from Abby in his pocket.

After some comfortable silence, Mel spoke, “You know, Dr. Langdon, I’ve been here for ten months, and I haven’t made any friends,” she started, fidgeting. “And it’s not like I haven’t tried either, because I know I have. I’ve been trying. I try to participate in conversations, but I feel like if anyone actually wanted my input, then they would either make small talk or wouldn’t walk away from me when I speak,” She laughed, shook her head. “And if people wanted my company, I guess they’d ask for my number or socials, or I’d have been asked to hang out after shifts or stay for the fireworks, like they’ll all do tonight, instead of seeing it all unfold as they talk to each other and I just watch or overhearing about it during a break. I don’t know, I assume they think I won’t notice, or that it’s not a big deal. But I do. And it is, to me.”

Frank’s jaw clenched, a surge of pissed-off heat flooding him. Even he had been invited to watch the fireworks on the rooftop tonight, even though it was his first day back and he was, well, not anyone’s favorite person right now. Frank had politely denied, knowing damn well he wasn't up to socializing like that. Still, both Donnie and McKay had extended their invitations to him, but not to Mel? Someone who had been here almost every day for the past ten months?

A year of this shit? Excluded, invisible? He didn’t voice it—honestly, didn’t really need to—but the anger simmered, protective and fierce and there. They don’t deserve her. None of them. He was included in that, but at least he was willing to try.

“You made quite an impression on me on my first day. You were very kind and patient with me. You were willing to listen. And even when you don’t understand, you try. That means a lot to me,” she said, so quietly that if Frank hadn’t been hanging on her every word, he’d have missed it. He noticed that she was trying to fight back the tears. She gave him a weak, broken smile then. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to get through my first day without you. When you value moments like those as much as I do, it’s impossible to forget them. Even though I know we aren’t friends, even though we’ve known each other for a short time, I feel like you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to one.”

For a moment, Frank was unsure of what to say or how to react. He had never felt so important, so special—so himself—before. There was a vulnerable furrow in his brows then, before he flashed a smile her way. He could be good. He knew it. He could feel his cheeks getting red and his eyes getting teary. He felt like a mess. Good mess, though. He felt so fucking good.

“And I wouldn’t have been able to get through my first day back without you, Mel. This conversation meant a lot to me. It helped more than you can imagine, and I hope it did for you, too.” Leaning in, he said firmly, “And we are. Friends, I mean. I’m here for you.”

“I’m here for you, too,” Mel replied, voice all soft.

His phone rang loudly in the room,  the screen glowing with Abby's name in bold white letters against the dark bar wallpaper—so now she was calling. He glanced at it, thumb hovering uncertainly over the decline button, the vibration buzzing faintly against his palm. With a quiet sigh, he silenced it and shoved it deep into his pocket. Not now. For a split second, Frank saw that Mel had seen his phone screen lit up with Abby’s name, and he knew that she’d seen him ignore her call completely. He should’ve been bothered by that. 

As if she, too, had sensed the tension getting thicker after what just happened, she glanced at the clock, gathering her bag. She cleared her throat. "Um," she thought aloud, in a Cinderella-like manner, she continued, “I...I should go.”

“Got any plans?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but a faint crack splintered his voice like thin ice underfoot, betraying the sudden knot of nerves twisting in his gut. He cleared his throat roughly, angling his phone screen toward his face to check the time. “8:48 p.m.” glowed back at him in stark white digits.

It was late. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He hadn’t noticed the hours slipping away.

"I...um, I'd normally watch the fireworks with Becca," she admitted, quite reluctant, fingers twisting the strap of her bag as her gaze flicked to the exit door. "But she's got plans with Adam tonight. I need to catch the bus."

The words hit him like a punch. She was going to watch the fireworks alone. Thinking of her alone on some rattling, graffiti-scarred bus, head lolling against a smudged window, the sky's spectacle reduced to muffled booms and fleeting glimpses through filthy glass made him feel sick in his stomach. No. She didn’t deserve that. She didn't deserve the isolation, the half-seen magic. The thought twisted in him, igniting a reckless fire in his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one who would not let it happen.

The invitation tumbled from his lips before he could process it, before his brain could tally the risks or second-guess the leap. “Mel,” he said, his voice dropping to a very soft, deliberate murmur. “Do you want to stay awhile? I mean, the fireworks are about to start.”

Her eyes lit up with tentative surprise, wide and shimmering under the bright overhead light. “Really?”

“'Course,” Frank replied, as easily as breathing. His smile was steady now, warm as the promise of the show to come, even as his heart hammered against his ribs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss them.”

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded, cheeks blooming pink, that rueful grin breaking free like sunlight piercing clouds. “I’d like that.”

Then she gave him the most disarming smile he’d ever seen. His knees almost gave out on him. He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the emotions that took over him.

They stood up from the table, the vinyl seats peeling away from their skin with a soft rasp. Side by side, they wove ttoward the exit. He felt a magnetic urge to lead her out, his hand itching to rest lightly on the small of her back, guiding her with that subtle, possessive touch. He had to physically clench his fist and shove it into his jeans pocket to stop himself, heart pounding a little harder.

They slipped out to the employee parking lot, the summer night thick with humid air that clung to their skin like a warm, damp blanket. Bags in tow—his worn black backpack slung casually over his right shoulder, its straps frayed from years of use; her satchel dangling from her left, swinging gently with each step. Frank guided them to a clear spot amid the scattered staff vehicles, right by his dusty silver car parked under the flickering glow of a lone streetlamp.

As she walked, Mel skillfully undid the tight braid that had kept her blond hair confined all day. She shook her hair loose, letting it tumble down over her shoulders, swaying it back and forth with a playful, timid flick. With the way her hair moved, Frank could smell her shampoo in the air.

Frank nearly tripped over his own feet, then his eyes locked on her, pulse skipping.

Leaning back against the warm hood of his car, he nodded with his head for her to join him, patting the spot beside him invitingly and trying to ignore the shaking of his hand that had nothing to do with withdrawal. 

“I’ve heard the view from here is fire,” he said, flashing that signature face of his: the one with the lopsided grin, one eyebrow arched mischievously, crinkling the corners of his eyes whenever he dropped a joke on her. He hoped she’d get it, knowing he’d explain it with exaggerated patience either way. “Like, actually fire.”

Mel was caught off guard, maybe by the sheer spontaneity of his dumb pun slicing through the quiet, or maybe by how quickly her brain latched onto it despite the late hour. Her laugh erupted loud and unrestrained, a bright, bubbling sound that echoed off the concrete walls and empty cars in the otherwise silent parking lot; after all, the real noise was pulsing on the rooftops upstairs, where most of the staff lingered for their get-together. Frank couldn’t help but smile, wide and genuine, the sound of it wrapping around him like a good—the best, really—kind of high.

“You and your jokes, I swear,” Mel said, shaking her head, her cheeks flushing a soft pink under the lamp’s glow, half from the laugh, half from the night air.

Frank did a double-take, his eyes widening in mock surprise, leaning in just a fraction closer with that boyish delight lighting up his face. 

“I have it on good authority that you like them,” he bragged, a smug smile unfurling across his lips, slow and triumphant, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. He playfully bumped against her. 

She looked up at him like he’d hung the moon and the stars. He felt delirious.

God help him.

“I really do,” she admitted softly, more to herself than to him, her gaze dropping to the gravel-strewn asphalt as if confessing a secret. She tucked those disobedient strands of hair behind her ear, knuckles bumping against her glasses and nose. 

In that moment, Frank felt like the most powerful man in the world—mighty, electric, ten feet tall.

There was a sudden boom then, deep and resonant, shattering the quiet as the firework show kicked off overhead. It caught both of them by surprise, but startled her the most. She flinched sharply, her body tensing, shoulders hunching instinctively as colorful sparks began to bloom across the starless sky.

Frank’s hand moved on pure reflex, but Mel’s hand did the same, and that was when warm skin met warm skin, her palm soft and his a little damp for some reason. Time stuttered for a heartbeat, the contact electric, sending a jolt straight up his arm, although it barely lasted two seconds.

"Oh—sorry," she gasped, half-laughing, half-panicking, eyes wide and startled as they flicked to their almost joined hands. He was sure he'd hallucinated the way her gaze flicked to his mouth.

He felt his own face heat up, a mortifying blush crawling from his neck to his ears. Jesus fucking Christ, at 32, and blushing like some awkward teenager. "N-No, my bad," he stammered, voice cracking just a little, thumb brushing hers accidentally when he pulled his arm away. His heart jackhammered, the simple touch suddenly too much, too soon.

In tandem, they stepped away from each other, their arms brushing apart with a shy awkwardness. Mel was the first to look away, biting her lip and staring intently at the exploding sky. Frank shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stared at the gravel, trying to make the flush disappear as the night air thickened around them, charged with something unspoken.

From the corner of her eye, she looked at Frank, then quickly and a little awkwardly, averted her gaze when she noticed that Frank had seen. She tilted her head, visibly nervous, clearing her throat. Frank's arm twitched with the urge to wrap around her, to pull her close and steady her against his chest. He held back, barely.

Mel tilted her head back, her loose blond waves spilling off her shoulder and cascading down her back, utterly mesmerized. Reflections of red, white, and blue danced wildly in her wide brown eyes and glasses, painting fleeting patterns across her face. “Wow. I forgot how much I liked this. It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice hushed with childlike wonder, barely above the crackling pops echoing in the distance.

Frank still had to crane his neck to glance up at the exploding sky, but he barely registered it. He was much too busy looking at her: hypnotized, rooted in place, his world narrowing to the woman beside him. She was oblivious to his stare, lost in the spectacle, her lips parted just so in quiet awe, and that unawareness only pulled him deeper. The fireworks' glow caught the tiny mole beside her eye, the lights tracing the delicate arch of her brows, the soft fan of her lashes against her cheeks. Her skin, warmed to a golden hue by the bursts overhead, seemed to shimmer like it held its own inner fire, flawless and alive.

He couldn't look away. And even if he could, he didn't want to. The way the colors played across her full lips, turning them from rose to crimson and back, made his pulse thunder louder than any boom above. Her hair, that wild cascade, caught flecks of gold and indigo, framing her face like a halo forged from the night itself. She was a living canvas, every shift of light revealing more:the gentle slope of her nose, the subtle dimple that flickered in her cheek when she smiled at a particularly bright explosion. Frank's breath caught, a realization blooming in his chest like one of those fireworks. There was something there; something undeniable, inevitable. His heart knew it, even if his head hadn't caught up to it just yet.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and fervent, roughened like he was the one bursting into light and color overhead. He might as well have been, with the way he was feeling. Still looking down at her, he said, “Really beautiful.”

After a couple of seconds, he finally willed himself to look away. Little did he know he'd never be the same after that.

They stood there side by side, basking in each other’s company amid the comfortable silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic whoomp-boom of the display. Whenever they shifted on their feet, her shoulder bumped softly against his arm, a teasing reminder of their height difference. If she leaned in and tilted her head, it'd fit just right on his shoulder.

He looked down, watching her gaze up at the sky. Her beauty was a pyrotechnic show in itself. In that stolen moment, with her so close and so unaware, Frank was utterly, hopelessly captivated. He was convinced fate had already lit its fuse. For what? He couldn't tell.

When the fireworks show faded to a final smoky hiss, Frank watched as Mel rummaged in her bag and whipped out her phone. The screen's blue glow illuminated her face as she thumbed open the Uber app, fingers poised to summon a ride. She'd just had an awful day, and now she could run all types of risks by going home alone? Yeah, right. Over his dead body.

“Lemme give you a ride home, Mel,” Frank said, his voice steady despite knowing damn well he was stepping into dangerous territory by crossing lines etched by professional boundaries and wedding bands. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Or to stop.

“Dr. Langdon, you don’t have to—” she protested, glancing up with those warm brown eyes, her loose hair framing her face in waves.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” he cut in, his earnest gaze locking onto hers. “It’s the least I could do—you missed your bus because I talked your ears off all night. By the way, Mel, friends are on a first-name basis. You can call me Frank.”

The drive was quiet at first, the city lights blurring past the windows, then eased into easy chatter about nothing and everything. Before long, he idled the engine in front of her modest apartment building. They stilled there in that awkward moment of being unsure of how to say goodbye. A million possibilities were hanging in the air. The only sounds Frank could hear were the engine’s low hum and the incessant thumpthumpthump of his heart in his ears.

He unlocked the passenger door with a soft click, watching as she gathered her shoulder bag and slipped out of the car.

A sudden thought struck him like a spark: her perfume—that light, intoxicating blend of lavender and vanilla—would linger in the upholstery, weaving into the leather seats and air vents. What would Abby think if she caught a whiff tomorrow, riding shotgun to some errand, her nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar scent? 

Would Abby even care? Would they argue about it? Would she be bothered by it? Like Frank should have been that night two months ago when Abby came back home from a get-together with her friends at the bar and casually mentioned that a guy had paid for her drink and given her his number, but instead couldn't find it in himself to care? Like Frank had been earlier today, when Mel mentioned that patient who had flirted with her, obviously caring more than he should have? 

Because no matter how hard Frank had tried to deny it, it didn’t matter what he’d told himself in order to sleep tonight; he knew, one way or another, exactly where this would take him.

Fuck. This was no good.

“Thank you, Dr—” she jolted him out of his guilt, the title rolling off her tongue like always, habitual and polite.

He shot her a look—playful but pointed, silently urging her toward what he really wanted.

She pressed her lips together, biting back a smile that dimpled her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She nodded, correcting herself. “Frank. Thank you. Really. Happy Fourth.”

“'Course, Mel,” he murmured, intoxicated by the way his name had slipped from her lips: soft, intimate, like a secret shared. It had never, ever, sounded that sweet before.

Craning her head into the passenger window from the outside, she propped her arms up and asked if they’d see each other tomorrow. With his nod, Frank knew, right then and there, he was doomed—or maybe blessed—to never be able to tell her "no". Somehow, he was fine with that.

And although his heart could sense that he was fucked, his mind didn’t, and so he just sat there and waited, watchful from the driver's seat, engine purring softly as she climbed the short steps to the intercom. 

She paused, punched in the code, and glanced back with a smile that was genuine, radiant, and not broken this time. It inflated Frank's chest with swelling pride, feeling himself invincible. She waved at him, and he waved back. He shifted into gear as soon as the heavy lobby door clicked shut and she disappeared from his point of view.

Even though his cellphone buzzed unchecked again in his pocket with another call from Abby, he drove off into the night with his heart steady for the first time that day. For the first time in months, in fact.

The echo of Mel's smile lit his way home.