Tethered Master Trent (MxM...xM?) | Random Updates

6.Mr. Young Doctor

"Are you sure about that?" I ask the doctor even though I already know what he's going to say.

"Yes."

The doctor is standing by the hospital bed where I'm sat slouching in foolish dismay. With a childish scoff, I look away from him. It's not the doctor who I'm angry at, but me.

"A panic attack," I mumble and cover my face with a clammy cold hand. My cheeks are burning.

"It happens. Have you been experiencing a lot of stress lately? Maybe a big change in your life?"

Reluctantly, I grumble a confirmation.

"I suggest you take it easy. With work or with whatever it is that's caused this attack. Talking to someone usually helps. A therapist."

In other words, the doctor kindly tells me to learn how to 'life', because I obviously can't 'life'.

Half an hour later, I'm happy to get out of the emergency ward, stomping along the row of hospital beds. Some curtains are drawn and others are not, allowing me to catch a glimpse of real emergencies — a broken arm with bone sticking out or a stab wound to the right leg. Not stupid panic attacks.

Fuck, I thought for sure that I was dying back there on the street. Somehow I've made it to the hospital and even gave myself a pat on the back considering how... I didn't panic in my state.

The irony doesn't escape me so as I'm heading toward the main lobby, I keep a firm grasp on my anger. I'm not going to throw a fit inside an obscure hospital corridor. All these impulses will go away once I hit the gym, I just know it.

Trying to figure out a workout routine has always been a great way for me to unwind. This does the trick until-

Until I'm met with an unlikely sight. My steps slow down. Is that who I think it is?

A face too cute to forget, yet he could be a guy who just looks like him from this distance. He's wearing green scrubs and a stethoscope hangs over his shoulders. Stern, but with enough compassion to place a hand on the shoulder of the woman he's talking to, the raven-haired guy is only thirty feet away. And now he's leaving that woman's side and walking toward me.

But his pensive eyes don't look my way and I try not to stare. We're about to pass each other when I catch him glimpsing at my face and all the while I'm trying to figure out if this young doctor is also Xander's Sub.

A couple of hours later, while I'm burning calories and straining muscles, my mind still plays over and over those few seconds when the dark-haired twink walked past me. There's been no sign of recognition on his part. I'm not even sure that it's the same person but...

I grunt and sweat through my routine.

"Feeling the burn?" a man asks while pushing buttons on the treadmill beside me.

It's the same guy as before. The regular whose name I can never recall.

"Yeah, man." But it's not helping my fucking curiosity over that damn doctor. "Have a good one," I say once the treadmill I've been running on comes to a stop and I step off it.

"Thanks, man! You too," the regular says and smiles.

For the first time, I notice that his eyes are awfully blue and pretty so I dub him Bright-Eyes.

I wave at Bright-Eyes and make my way to the locker room.

But before I hop in the shower, I check my phone. It's Friday evening, 8:43 pm and if I text Xander now, he'll probably be at the Blue Hedonism unable to see the message while his phone's in the playroom locker. So there's no point in texting him.