Words

by Slug_3nthusiast

Summary:

Jack and Robby hook up sometimes, that's all. Nevermind the unspoken feelings. When Robby gets closer with his new student, however, the lines start to blur and the pair's relationship gets rocky.

Updates Wednesday/Friday.

Notes:

Hi guys! This is my first fic for The Pitt. I'm super excited about the next season and I'm hoping to have this fic mostly/completely done by then.

It's sort of implied that Jack has some kind of eating disorder but there's no detail on it. It's idiots in love but they refuse to address it!

Chapter 1: I'll Send You My Words

    Robby scrubbed a hand over his face, the other planted firmly against the cool tile of Jack's bathroom counter. His hip hurt again, a recurring risk of sex at his age. It irked him, though. He know he wasn't as young as he used to be, but it was little reminders like that that got him regretting how long he left the whole 'relationship' aspect of his life.

 

    Not that this was a relationship.

 

    No. This was casual sex. Nothing more than a come over text every other month, nothing more than drinks together in the living room that led to messy kissing, nothing-

 

    Robby groaned and opened Jack's medicine cabinet, fishing around until he found a bottle of ibuprofen. He shook a few into his hand - more than was strictly necessary, or safe - and swallowed them with a few cupped palms full of water. He sighed, checked the time almost instinctively, and took his watch off to step into the shower. Days off were few and far between in this profession, and sick days were practically non-existent at this point in his career. He'd caught almost everything viral that had come through the hospital, a good assortment of bacterial infections, too, and at this point his body seemed to be immune to most things. He'd taken Monday off as a rest day after being practically forced by Dana, but that wasn't an excuse not to come back on Tuesday.

 

    It was only Monday evening, and Jack was getting a few hours of sleep before he had to clock in for his shift. It was a good opportunity for Robby to sneak out undetected after showering, stealing some of his friend's food and then watching TV until a half hour before Jack's alarm. It worked for both of them, and the gesture was usually reciprocated whenever Jack ended up at Robby's place. It was a good system. It meant that, other than sharing a bed post sex, they didn't have to address any of it. They weren't worried about being caught or having to discuss logistics or feelings; they had sex, and parted ways. It had been that way for years. It worked. It was clockwork.

 

    Robby wasn't entirely sure how long he'd stood under the hot spray of the shower. The almost scalding water felt soothing on his aching hip, and he leaned against the cool tiles with his forearm braced between it and his forehead. He felt old. Logically, he knew that there wasn't anything wrong with it. He was 52, he knew that he was only getting older. But since the Pittfest shooting, he felt like he'd been aging at twice the speed.

 

    As much as anything, he supposed it was the way the new arrivals handled it. They all seemed so… mature, for lack of a better word. A bunch of kids dragged in to get hands-on - for the first time in many cases - being thrust into such a dire mass-casualty event? They handled it well. And he hadn't. He'd sat down in pedes and cried. And he'd been seen. Not just by a senior nurse, but by Whitaker. Christ, the kid was driving him insane. Not that he could pin exactly why, but it was beginning to grind on his nerves. He just felt so on edge all the fucking time, so irritable around the kid. It wasn't his fault, of course, but god Robby hated it.

 

    His thoughts were interrupted as the bathroom door opened, and he looked up to see Jack limping in. His leg had been giving him some trouble recently, but he was too proud to go and see orthotics about it. Robby nodded at him and he just raised his eyebrows, hobbling over to the ibuprofen on the counter. He filled his glass and took only a few less than Robby had before turning around just as Robby began to wash his hair.

 

    "Earlier shift than usual," he explained unprompted, leaning back against the counter and swilling the water in his cup like he would whisky. "I could make you breakfast?"

 

    "What, breakfast for dinner? Thanks, but I can just grab something before I get home." Robby shook his head and turned his face under the spray to get the soap out as Jack shrugged and finished off his water.

 

    "Sure, your choice. Don't use all my water, yeah?" He asked, pushing off the counter and making his way out of the room.

 

    This was normal. So why did the casual tone in Jack's voice cause Robby's chest to tighten?

 

    He got out of the shower a few minutes later and dried off, only to find Jack already gone. He got dressed and went to grab his keys and coat from the kitchen, noticing a note and a flask on the worktop. He picked it up and squinted to read it, face scrunched up as he tried to make out Jack's hurried scrawl.

 

    Made you coffee. Drink it. Get a full night's sleep if you can, I'll call you at 5.

 

    Robby sighed and put the note down, grabbing the flask and his belongings and heading for the door. It locked automatically, so he didn't need to worry aboutthat before walking to the bus stop.

 

    The moment he lay down at home, he was asleep. It was surprisingly good considering how terrible his sleep schedule usually was, and by the time he got in at six the next morning, he felt somewhat refreshed. Dana probably noticed, but at least she had the grace not to say anything about it. Nor about the poorly hidden bruise just under his ear. It had registered to Robby somewhere between waking up and getting to work that Jack probably hadn't actually eaten last night, and that he was offering to make food purely out of habit rather than any actual desire to feed himself.

 

    He brushed off the thought for now, instead heading to the break room to get himself a fresh cup of coffee. The second realisation hit him that he'd never drank the coffee that Jack had made for him in the evening. He brudhed that off, too, and stood with his arms crossed in front of the machine as it rumbled. The coffee was free, thank god, but the machine shouted at whoever was getting a drink when they were making a selection. Robby could remember the first time he saw Dr. Santos trying to order something and jumping out of her skin as a loud female voice announced her selection to the whole floor.

 

    His reminiscent chuckle faded off into a yawn and then a sigh as he scrubbed a hand over his face. God, he was already exhausted. The ER was already packed, overflowing from the night shift as more and more people already began to pile into seats. It looked like most of the students were there already and getting ready to start their shifts. Robby drank his coffee in record time, tossed the foam cup and walked back out of the break room to see who he could check up on. There wasn't anything too serious; a few broken bones, a concussion, a few burns and lacerations but nothing major. He just hoped that the rest of the shift stayed like that.

 

    He walked around for a bit and managed to discharge three different patients before there were any major incidents. The worst before noon was an overdose, but the worst of it had been cleared up on the way to the hospital so all they had to worry about was monitoring his progress. Robby had to put up with a few jabs from Dana about the sheer amount of coffee he was drinking, but he brushed her off with a few jokes, took a five minute break to use the bathroom and recuperate, and then went straight back out to help with the rest of the floor.

 

    The first time he saw Whitaker all day was during a check in on the overdose patient. The poor kid looked out of his depth (not that that was unusual) as he tried to ask the man questions. It wasn't unusual that addicts would try to deny using narcotics, but Christ if it wasn't tiring. Thankfully, most of them didn't become violent, just belligerent and insufferable whilst trying to avoid answering questions.

 

    The man had his nose turned up, arms crossed, the epitome of petulant resistance as Whitaker simply tried to ask him about his drug usage. It had got to the point that he was stuttering, repeating the same question time and time again as he got repeatedly interrupted. After watching a few pitiful attempts at getting information out of the man, Robby stepped in. Specifically by taking Whitaker by the junction of his neck and shoulder and moving him aside. He didn't need force, the kid always went willingly. He stumbled a little as Robby took his place, but stood by obediently as he watched the attending handle the situation.

 

    "Sir, there's no point lying to us. We see narcotic users almost every day, okay? We know you took something because a couple of rounds of Narcan woke you up. You won't get in trouble," Robby explained, gentle but firm, "but we need to know what it was and where you got it. So that we can get you the help that you need." He raised his eyebrows, and the man just scoffed.

 

    Robby sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, turning to Whitaker with a raised brow. "How long have you been at it?" He asked, and Whitaker hesitated, checking his bare wrist and then shaking his head as he registered his lack of a watch.

 

    "Uh- about twenty minutes? Maybe?" He replied, not quite making eye contact. His shoulders were hunched, as though he was afraid of getting shouted at or punished. Robby just sighed, the sight sending a confusing flood of emotion rushing through him.

 

    "Alright, kid. Go take a breather, yeah? Grab a drink or something, we'll debrief soon." Whitaker just nodded and Robby turned back to the young man in the bed, prepared to carry on asking questions.

 

    Days like this were hit or miss. They either stayed quiet until the night shift, or ended with all hell breaking loose and causing everyone to stay overtime. Thankfully for the day shift, that didn't seem to be the case. Robby stayed a little later than everyone else, filing some overdue paperwork and discharging the last few patients of his shift. He wasn't staying for Jack, but that didn't mean that he didn't brighten up considerably when he saw his friend entering through the doors. He flashed him a smile and Jack nodded politely, a small smile tugging at his mouth like he was reluctant to show any emotion.

 

    Robby's hip gave a twinge as he remembered the previous day, and he was suddenly very thankful that his libido wasn't as high as it used to be or he'd have been sporting a raging boner in the middle of the ER. Neither of them were great at getting it up anymore; Jack due to his damaged nerves from losing his leg, and Robby purely just because of age. They worked well together, though, and often their time together consisted mostly of foreplay.

 

    They both ignored how intimate it felt.

 

    They didn't speak, and five minutes later Robby had clocked out. It had been a weird day, between the oddly warm feelings about touching Whitaker and what felt like a sudden distance between him and Jack, and he was ready to get home and sleep.

 

    His apartment was mercifully quiet when he got in, and he went to the kitchen to get some water. The flask Jack had given him was still on the side, the note still slotted in the pocket of Jack's jacket that he'd stolen. It was a bit small on him, but he'd grabbed it by accident before leaving. With a jolt, he registered that Jack had gone into work wearing his jacket, and heat rushed to his cheeks as he sighed. If he ordered food, surely he'd have time for a quickie…

 

    He was right.

 

    Robby ignored the fact that he'd almost instinctively grabbed Jack's jacket to jerk off, and the fact that he was suddenly hard far quicker than usual, instead opting to shove the material against his face and shove a hand down his pants spread-eagle on the sofa. It took all of ten minutes to have him soiling his boxers, pressing Jack's jacket against his face so hard that he was surprised he didn't hear his nose pop. What threw him off, though, was that what sent him over the edge wasn't thinking about Jack. Seconds away from reaching his peak, Robby's mind suddenly flashed with Whitaker.

 

    He couldn't stop the surge of arousal that tipped him over, remembering the helpless look in the student's eyes earlier that day, the way he'd moved so pliantly when Robby put his hands on him. Robby fisted his cock through his orgasm, hips jerking as he unloaded in his pants as though he were thirty years younger.

 

    For a moment, all he could do was sit, shocked and flustered. Then, a wave of guilt crashed over him and he felt a bit sick. Before he could spiral, the sound of the door buzzer rang out and he forced himself upright in a daze so that he could go and get his food.

 

    He felt well and truly fucked.

Chapter 2: From the Corners of my Room

Summary:

Dennis gets his period and Robby finds even more out about himself. He figures the best course of action is talking to Jack.

Notes:

Chapter two as promised! I hope you enjoy. Chapter three will be out Wednesday <3

Robby couldn't bring himself to look Dennis in the eye the next day. Nor the day after that, or after that. He tried his best to ignore the intense, nagging guilt that was pulling at his conscience and just get on with his work, but it wasn't that easy. He was snappish and irritable to the students, despite how much guiltier that made him feel, and it kept going until a few days later when Dana pulled him aside in the break room.

 

Dennis and Trinity were on the opposite side of the room, and Robby deliberately positioned himself to be facein away from them as Dana stood back with her arms crossed. Robby bowed his head, but looked up at her with somewhat guilty eyes as she raised her eyebrows.

 

"What is it?" She asked bluntly, and Robby sighed. "If something's happened with Jack-"

 

"Nothing happened with Jack, Dana. Christ," Robby interrupted, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. He had one arm crossed over his stomach almost protectively as he held the hand over his mouth and looked over at Dana. "I- there's been a lot going on lately generally. You know that as well as I do. My hip's bothering me again and I'm fucking tired and just… I'll be fine." Dana cocked her head to the side and Robby sighed. "I'll tone down the snapping, how's that?"

 

"You need to get that hip checked. Sure it's not anything more serious? Didn't your mom have arthritis?" Dana asked, then immediately backtracked as Robby visibly tensed. "Not that- shit. Look, Robby, just please keep an eye on it? For me?"

 

Robby sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. "Sure, sure. For you. Can I go back to doing my job now, Dana?" Dana sighed but nodded, resigned, allowing Robby to sidestep her and walk back out into the main atrium. He was looking up at the board when he heard a nervous cough from behind him, turning around to see Whitaker, evidently having followed him out of the break room.

 

"Whitaker," Robby greeted, offering a small, unconvincing smile. "What did you need?"

 

"Just, uh…" Dennis cleared his throat and held out some papers. "I've already got it all in the system, but the labs for the little girl with the rash came back. Uh- just a case of ringworm." He held the papers a little further back, looking a little nervous, and Robby realised that he was staring. He took the papers out of Whitaker's hands, and nodded as he looked over them.

 

"Good job, kid," he said, handing the papers back with a satisfied nod. "Very well done. Uh… Prescribe a tube of 1% Clotrimazole and advise that the parents don't let their daughter come into close contact with her brother until it clears up. If it's not any better within a week, tell her to call up a pharmacy, if it gets worse tell her to come back here and we'll see what we can do. Okay?" Robby reached out and squeezed Whitaker's shoulder, not missing the way that the kid's cheeks flushed and a shy smile spread over his lips as he gazed down at his work.

 

"Yeah. Yes, sir. Uh- Doctor. Robby, Doctor Robby. Thank you. I'll get right on that," Whitaker squeaked, hurrying off and heading in the direction of the patient. Robby huffed out a contented sigh and wandered off to the bathroom. God, he really couldn't hold his coffee well any more.

 

There was about a three hour lull. No emergencies, nobody coded, just doing the rounds and taking in as many patients as they discharged. At five PM, they had a woman rushed in screaming in pain. Both Samira and Dana rushed forwards, asking almost in union why she hadn't been given any pain medication. She had, was what the EMTs responded. They got her into one of the rooms, where several nurses and Dennis hurried in to help however they could.

 

They took the cover off her lower half, and Dennis immediately paled at the sight of her legs.

 

Or, lack thereof.

 

Robby hurriedin after a few seconds, already updated by the EMTs on what exactly had happened. He snapped his gloves on and glanced sidelong at Whitaker, brow furrowing in quiet concern before focusing back on their patient.

 

"Motorcycle accident," he explained urgently, inspecting the almost-stump of the woman's left leg. "She had all the right gear on, was driving the speed limit according to people on scene. Not her fault, something happened with a careless driver. Probably drunk driving, he's coming in in a few minutes, but she's our priority."

 

Robby kept talking, instructing the nurses and doctors on what to do and where to go, but Dennis accidentally tuned it out. He was zeroed in on the state of the woman's leg; mostly severed, somehow not bleeding too much although he supposed that it could have somehow been cauterised. There was some horrible road rash trailing the length of her already mangled thigh and Dennis was certain that he could see bone. It made him feel a bit sick and he began to sway on his feet. Was it the worst they'd had? Not at all. But it felt like it was getting to him far more than usual, and that wasn't something he wanted to dwell on.

 

Before he could spiral, there were strong hands on his shoulders. Robby. He looked up, eyes wide like a snared rabbit, and felt himself physically react. "Go for a walk, there's enough of us in here to deal with this. Okay? Grab something to eat, go for a smoke, I don't care. Just go and calm down, okay?"

 

Dennis hesitated as his mouth opened and closed a few times, before he nodded, words utterly failing him, and turned to hurry out of the room. He grabbed a bottle of water from the vending machine in the break room. He drank as much as he could and then sat for a moment, taking a deep breath. He wasn't sure why exactly he felt so sensitive, but he shrugged it off as best he could. Other than the woman - and the drunk driver who was also being taken care of - there wasn't much in the way of work.

 

Dennis wandered for a bit before his hip started hurting. Low, dull, throbbing, right near the base of his spine. With a slow, sinking feeling, he realised what was wrong. He hurried off to the toilet and, sure enough, when he sat down he found blood in his boxers. Nobody other than Trinity knew that he was trans, and he wanted to keep it that way. The issue was, he'd been caught unaware on the assumption that that he couldn't get his period anymore. It explained the sudden nausea, the overall poor mood and the fucking headache he'd had all day. But now he had to actually deal with it. He shot Trinity a text asking if she could somehow get him some sort of sanitary item, but when he didn't get a response for five minutes he resorted to just grabbing some toilet paper.

 

Trying to work normally when he was hyperaware of his predicament made tending to patients harder than usual. He was already pretty fresh, still learning and somewhat squeamish, and the painful awareness of how wet the top of his thighs felt didn't help the nausea. He sat down after about two hours, having finally managed to find a tampon. He changed his scrubs to black after realising that he'd bled right through the blue ones, but his boxers were a lost cause. The cramps had set in and he had to put his head down on the table with a groan in the break room, not registering when someone sat next to him until he heard Robby's voice.

 

"Alright, kid?" He asked, eyebrow cocked in concern as Dennis suddenly sprung upright, pale and alert. "You've been a bit off your game today."

 

"Uh- um, yeah. Sorry, Dr. Robby, just… it's been a fucking week, you know?" Dennis replied with a dry laugh, trying his best to appear nonchalant. Robby bit his lip and nodded slowly, unconvinced.

 

"It's Tuesday. And you took Sunday off."

 

"Right! Right, uh…"

 

"Dennis, you can tell me if something's wrong. If it's a headache or something, you know we stock ibuprofen. If it's something else…" Robby trailed off with a shrug, and Dennis hesitated. He doubted that Robby would really care about him being trans. Right? It'd be unprofessional. And if there was an issue, he had Trinity to back him up with an HR report. He tried pointedly to ignore the flutter in his chest as Robby called him by his first name.

 

After a moment, he sighed.

 

"I got my period," muttered Dennis, looking down at his lap and fiddling with his hands.

 

"Speak up, kid. I'm old, remember?" Robby replied, soft even as he joked.

 

"My period, Dr. Robby. I got my period," snapped Dennis, who suddenly whipped his head around to check that they were alone. They were, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Robby's brow furrowed.

 

"Your- oh. Oh. Christ, kid, why didn't you just say?" Dennis looked up, and Robby was flushed and avoiding his gaze. It made Dennis' heart drop to his stomach. So he does care.

 

"Look, I don't- if you think you should start treating me different, or if you think I can't handle the work because of- because I'm trans," he snapped again, whispering the last part shamefully, "then you're wrong. I'm just as competent as the rest of the team and-"

 

"What? God, Whitaker, of course I don't care, are you mad? Half the fucking floor is queer in some way shape or form, but I think you're our first trans man," Robby interrupted, shaking his head. Dennis snapped his mouth shut and looked back down at his hands. "Have you had painkillers? I'm assuming it's cramps, yes?" Dennis nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again, then buried his face in his hands.

 

"Yes it's the cramps. No, I haven't had painkillers. I like to go as long as possible without them," he explained, tugging at his hair in frustration. Robby reached over and gently pried his hands free, holding onto them so that Dennis wouldn't hurt himself. "And I feel sick."

 

"I understand, kid. I do. But as your attending, I'm telling you to take some ibuprofen and go home. Okay?"

 

Dennis stared down at their joined hands, cheeks going pink. If Robby noticed, he had the courtesy not to say anything. He opened his mouth to protest, but Robby shook his head.

 

"Ah ah ah, don't fight me on this, Whitaker. Seriously. I can tell you weren't expecting this, so please just go home and rest for me. Okay?" Robby said gently. Dennis just sighed, but visibly relaxed. Robby stood and got Dennis a polystyrene cup of water and some ibuprofen, then pulled out his phone. "Have those, drink that whole bottle. I'll call you a ride."

 

"You're gonna get in trouble for favouritism you know," Dennis grumbled, even as he did as he was told.

 

"I'd do it for any of my residents. If I can afford an Uber, I'll get you an Uber. Drink up," Robby replied, before handing his phone over for Dennis to put his address into.

 

Ten minutes later, Dennis was on the way home and Robby was having a crisis.

 

He excused himself to the bathroom for a few minutes to will his erection away. God. Not only was that the most intimately he'd touched Whitaker before, but the kid had trusted him enough to tell him that he was trans?

 

He felt shaky as he left the bathroom, and texted Abbot that he'd be coming over after his shift. If anyone noticed his weird behaviour, they didn't comment.

 

They had about two hours together before Jack would have to leave for his shift by the time Robby arrived. He didn't tell Jack exactly why he was so keyed up, but that didn't matter. Practically the second Robby was through the door, he was on his knees with his face pressed to Jack's crotch, gazing up at him desperately. Today was just one of those days, and Jack seemed to pick up on it immediately. He softened, petting Robby's hair as he looked down at his friend with a gentle gaze.

 

"Fancy moving this to the couch? Don't think my leg'll appreciate the standing still," he said, and Robby nodded. Jack helped him clumsily to his feet and guided him somewhat blindly to the living room, where he sunk into the leather of the couch. Robby was on his knees again in seconds, cheek resting on Jack's thigh as he looked up at him. Jack sighed happily and cupped his bearded jaw, stroking his thumb over Robby's cheekbone with a gentle smile. Robby melted, humming quietly as he realised that this was exactly what he needed.

 

Jack pulled his sweats down and fished out his cock, still soft, despite being turned on. Robby was rock hard, but that wasn't his main priority. He looked up, tearing his eyes away from Jack's cock for a moment to ask permission. Jack nodded, not needing to be verbally asked, and Robby worked him into his throat. He sucked and bobbed over Jack for a while, getting to gradually feel him getting harder in the back of his throat. He wasn't small by any means, and Robby enjoyed this part almost more than actually getting each other off. It felt warmer, more intimate, and he felt the same ache in his chest as the last time he properly saw Jack, when he'd been somewhat dismissed in the shower.

 

It sent a jolt of fear through him, but that was quickly diminished as Jack ran a hand through his hair. He vaguely registered Jack instructing him to touch himself, and he climsily shoved a hand down his pants. The first contact with his own cock had him groaning around Jack's, and the latter let his head fall back with a groan. Robby felt when Jack started leaking, and it made a whine tear from his throat as he bucked into his own hand. He was too desperate to even bother getting his own pants off, and as he felt himself getting coser and closer to orgasm as Whitaker flashed across his mind again.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut desperately, trying to will the images away, but fuck if it wasn't difficult. The thought of Whitaker all spread out for him, for him and Jack, face flushed a pretty pink as they pried his legs open. It had been a while since he'd had the privilege of playing with a cunt, but he fucking wanted it. He wondered if Whitaker shaved? How big was his bottom growth? How would he look taking both of them?

 

Before he could really register it, he was spilling into his pants, soaking his boxers. A desperate keen bubbled up out of him and the sound sent Jack over the edge, too. His hips twitched as much as they could with him being sat on such soft cushions, and he tightened his hold on Robby's hair as he held him down. Robby swallowed as best he could, but he'd never fully got a grip on his gag reflex and so he spit up a little. When he pulled off, Jack immediately grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and gently wiped Robby's face of spit and cum, cooing softly.

 

It always took Robby a while to come to on days like this, so Jack gently helped him up and got him naked and in the shower. There was plenty of room for the two of them, and Robby yet again found himself imagining what it would be like with Whitaker between them. Jack washed him off, kissing him occasionally and scrubbing his sore body clean.

 

He felt himself drifting back to consciousness as Jack got them both into bed, cradling him against his chest and stroking his back. After bout five minutes of this, he looked up with a small smile.

 

"Thanks, man. I needed that." The smile he got in return made his heart clench.

 

"Anytime, brother. I need to get ready in a minute, but we have time if you feel like talking about what happened? You're not usually this worked up." Jack asked, playing with Robby's hair. Robby sighed.

 

"You know when we were in med school?" Robby started, and Jack nodded. "Remember we both had a thing for that one professor?"

 

"Yeah. Mr Ramsay?" Jack asked quietly. Robby nodded, tracing patterns over Jack's chest. They never did this, this wasn't normal for them. But they settled into the roles so easily, the domesticity began to feel normal.

 

"Yeah. I- I have the feeling that's happening again."

 

"Aren't you like… the oldest dude in The Pitt right now?" Jack asked quietly, brow furrowed as he looked up at the ceiling. "Who are you talking about?"

 

"The other way round, I guess. You know Whitaker?" Robby asked, and he felt Jack tense a little under him.

 

"A student?"

 

"I wish it were someone else."

 

Jack stayed silent for a moment before carefully extracting himself from under Robby and standing up. "I need to get ready," he said shortly, nodding. Robby felt his heart sink, and Jack just walked off towards the bathroom. "Borrow some pyjamas," he called over his shoulder. "You can stay the night, okay? I'll be back at half past seven, I know you have the day off. We can talk more then, okay?"

 

Without waiting for a response, Jack turned around and hurried off into the bathroom, leaving Robby sat in his bed, humiliated, guilty, and strangely grief-stricken.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos/comments, it means a lot!

Notes:

Chapter two (probably) on Friday. I have five written and I've started six. Please comment if you enjoyed <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Da Pitt