Hurts So Good (Neil Melendez (The Good Doctor) x OC)

I'm Not Your Doctor

I'm not nervous, I'm not nervous.
I've been telling that to myself all morning and then even while having lunch; some say that if you keep repeating the same thing over and over again in your mind, you'll start believing it is true. Well, let me tell you. It's not working.
Neil will be here at my apartment any minute now and I don't know if I'm more nervous for the doctor's appointment or him seeing my place.
Definitely the second option, Jade.
It's not the perfect apartment, it is rather small, messy and thanks to my disintegrated arm, I wasn't able to wash the floor this week.

"Get a grip," I tell the version of me in the mirror. She's looking at me with freaked out eyes and I suddenly see she's not even wearing mascara, that I am not wearing mascara, "shit."
I open the vanity drawer and take out the only black mascara I have, which is months old and rather... lumpy and start applying it. I'm on my left eye when the door bell rings and stab myself.

I'm mumbling cuss words around the house until I get to the door and open it.
"Neil. Thank goodness you're here, I stabbed my eye and it hurts like hell, do I have something in? Is it bad? Tell me I don't need to go back to the hospital, please," words are coming out of me in a river-like flow.
"Good day to you too. Let me see." He makes me sit down on the nearest chair, tilts my head back and starts inspecting my eye.
"Look up for a second," he tells me, then I see his hand coming up and feel him picking something out.
"Just an eyelash that got stuck. It should start to feel better now," he's still holding my head up, and when he realizes that he sighs almost imperceptibly and lets me go.
"Thank you. I'm sorry I've freaked out. I've been... uneasy all day long."
"Why so? Haven't you been feeling well? Did something happen?"
Why can't I just keep my mouth shut.
"No, nothing happened, and I'm fine, really! It's just..." I mindlessly shake my head a little, "my mind plays tricks on me sometimes. Today was one of those days," I say. It's not a lie. But also not the complete truth. I've been battling anxiety since my father left, there are days when I feel like everything is slipping from my fingers like sand, others when I can't even get out of bed and others when I cry myself to sleep just to excuse myself from existence for a few hours. But then again, I know the cause of what I'm feeling today, and it was a simple and silly one today: his presence. Just the fact of him being in my personal safe space gave me contrasting feelings.
You told him he could come and get you.
And I think I'm regretting it now.
Talking about my present life, about my mum and my decision to go through a pregnancy as a single woman isn't hard to do, I love sharing stories, I feel like those don't feel real enough to pose as a threat to my mental well-being. Sharing my nest is a different thing.

This place, this apartment reflects me. This apartment is a piece of me, it took a shard of my soul and used it to become alive. These four walls have been keeping ten years worth of secrets, they've seen me broken down, and then putting myself back together again. If you look close enough and pay attention, you can read it all. That's what I'm the most afraid of: Neil being able to uncover those secrets and then be able to read me like no one ever did. It scares me and makes me panic.

"I see. You know you can talk to me, right?" he watches me, he watches my every frantic movement, "if you don't feel like going to the appointment, we can reschedule. Take your time today, don't push it."

"No, no I'm okay. Give me one more minute and I'll be ready," I bolt out of the room and close the bathroom door behind my back once again. I should pee, I definitely need to pee.
Once I'm done, I breathe out some of the negative thoughts and try to calm my nerves. Break the ice. Be funny? Do something. Say something.
I'm still inside the bathroom when I ask Neil, "is there anything you can give me to make me pee less frequently? It's getting quite impossible to manage."

"Uhm... I wouldn't know honestly, and even if I did... I couldn't prescribe you anything." he's fidgeting his fingers while saying that and at first I don't quite grasp the meaning of his words, "wait, come again?"

"I can't prescribe you anything," he says concisely.

"But... Why?!"

"I'm not your doctor."

"What do you mean you're not my doctor, you've cut me open twice," I retort with a disbelieving tone to my voice, still addressing my mirror self rather than Neil himself.

"Come out of there and I'll explain, c'mon."

I get out of the bathroom and I lean on its closed door, "so?"

"I'm not your doctor anymore because if... I want to help you, as a friend," he adds swiftly, "we will have to, you know," he's moving his hand between us, "do this more often, see each other outside of my work place and... Trust me, it's better this way," he concludes. His lips are in a thin line, but his eyes are glistening.
I'm confused, and I think there's more to it than meets the eye.

"You're withholding something and I'm gonna figure it out eventually," I declare solemnly. He smiles gently and then asks me if we're ready to go.
I take a deep breath, and nod.