Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The automatic doors slid open with a soft mechanical sound,, and Y/N stepped into the hospital, her head filled with a million emotions at once.
“First day” she whispered to herself.
The air smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee. Monitors beeped and the clicking sounds of keyboards filled the air. Nurses moved with practiced urgency, sneakers squeaking against polished floors. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going.
Except her.
She adjusted the strap of her tote bag higher on her shoulder, fingers brushing the cheap fabric like it could anchor her in place. Twenty years old. Full-time hybrid college student. Pre-nursing. Working as a med aide part time, but ridiculously her schedule was more full time than part time. But she needed the money because she wasn’t handed anything on a golden platter. She had moved out of her parents house about a year ago after she realized all her school work and her parents’ emotional abuse were not a good pair.
”Y/N?”
She turned quickly at the sound of her name.
A woman in perfectly pressed burgundy scrubs approached her with a clipboard tucked to her chest. “Orientation room is down that hall, second door on the left. You’re assigned to Unit 4B.”
“Oh, uhm, thank you!” Y/N said softly, eyes wandering all over the place and fingers anxiously tugging at her tote bag.
The woman gave her a quick nod and disappeared.
Unit 4B.
Her stomach twisted.
**********************************
By 10:47 a.m., her feet already hurt.
She had been shown how to log vitals into the system, where the extra linens were kept, which supply closet jammed if you didn’t kick it just right. She followed directions carefully, quietly, absorbing everything like it was life or death.
“Can you grab a blood pressure on 412?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Room 409 needs fresh water.”
“Yes.”
“Chart before lunch.”
“Yes.”
She made sure to make her voice polite and obedient.
Patients seemed to like her. She spoke gently, moved slowly, explained what she was doing before she did it. One elderly woman squeezed her wrist after Y/N adjusted her pillow.
“You’ve got kind hands,” she said.
The compliment settled somewhere deep in her chest, warm and fragile.
Kind hands.
Maybe she could really do this. Maybe nursing school wouldn’t chew her up and spit her out. Maybe she could build something steady. Safe.
By noon, though, the weight of newness pressed against her lungs. The noise, the lights, the constant awareness that she could mess up. All she could think to herself was that she needed air.
“Is it okay if I step out for five?” she asked one of the senior aides.
“Yeah, just don’t disappear,” the woman replied, already turning away.
Y/N nodded and slipped toward the staff exit.
**********************************
The back of the hospital was quieter.
The hum of traffic in the distance. A sign that read NO SMOKING WITHIN 25 FEET OF ENTRANCE, largely ignored judging by the cigarette butts near the curb.
She exhaled slowly, shoulders finally dropping.
You’re fine. It’s just a job she affirmed to herself.
The door opened behind her.
A tall man stepped out, the door swinging shut behind him with a muted thud. He wore dark scrubs that were crisp, fitted, ironed in a way that suggested he took things seriously. His blond hair was neatly parted, not a strand out of place. Thin-framed glasses caught the afternoon light.
He paused when he noticed her.
There was a brief silence.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, out of habit. “I was just getting air.”
His gaze assessed her in a single, quiet sweep. Not invasive. Just observant.
“You’re not in my way,” he replied.
His voice was low. Even. Controlled.
He pulled a cigarette from a small silver case and lit it with practiced precision. The flame flared, then disappeared. Smoke curled into the air between them.
She wrinkled her nose faintly before she could stop herself.
He noticed.
“You don’t smoke,” he stated.
“No,” she said, almost apologetically.
“Secondhand exposure isn’t ideal.”
“I don’t mind.”
Another pause.
“You’re new,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
He glanced at her badge. “Y/N.”
The way he said her name wasn’t careless. He pronounced it carefully, like he intended to remember it.
“Kento Nanami,” he said, though he didn’t offer a hand. “Nurse practitioner. I supervise 4B.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Oh. I’m actually… assigned there.”
“I’m aware.”
Heat crept up her neck.
Of course he was aware, idiot. He’s your supervisor.
He took another slow drag, eyes shifting briefly toward the sky.
“You look overwhelmed,” he observed.
Being so surprised that someone could read her so well and quick, she blinked an awkward amount of times.
“I’m not.”
His gaze returned to her.
“It’s your first day,” he said. “Overwhelmed is expected.”
Something about the way he said it, so matter-of-fact, not judgmental, made her chest loosen slightly.
“I just don’t want to mess up,” she admitted quietly.
“You will,” he replied calmly.
Her eyes widened.
He continued before panic could bloom on her face.
“Everyone does. The objective is to make fewer mistakes tomorrow than you did today.”
That… wasn’t cruel, she thought to herself.
It wasn’t sugarcoated either. Just the practical truth of things.
He flicked ash onto the pavement.
“Patients on 4B are mostly post-op and cardiac step-down,” he added. “They require attentiveness. You seem attentive.”
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
“Thank you.”
He studied her again, more thoughtfully this time.
“You don’t need to say ‘sir,’” he said. “This isn’t the military.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He exhaled a quiet breath through his nose, almost like the ghost of a chuckle.
“You apologize frequently,” he noted.
Her lips parted, then closed. Was she this predictable and readable?
“I’ll… work on that.”
“I didn’t say it was a flaw,” he replied.
The statement hung between them.
A car passed somewhere beyond the fence. The cigarette burned lower.
She realized she didn’t feel quite as small standing there anymore.
Not bigger.
Just… steadier.
Nanami crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe with careful precision.
“Break’s over,” he said. “Walk with me.”
It wasn’t a command. Not exactly.
But she immediately got up and walked beside him anyway.
As they approached the door, he held it open without looking at her.
“Y/N.”
“Yes?”
“Kindness is useful in this field,” he said. “But don’t confuse it with shrinking yourself.”
Her breath caught. She found herself feeling a flutter in her stomach. No one had ever said something so thoughtful and encouraging to her before.
Then he stepped inside.
She followed, the sterile hospital air swallowing them both as the door clicked shut.
And just like that, her first day truly began.
**********************************
The lock on the apartment door always stuck.
Y/N had to shove herself into it with a soft grunt, the sound loud in the dim, stale space. The overhead light flickered once before settling into a dull yellow glow.
Home.
Her shoes came off first. Then her tote bag slid from her shoulder, landing gently on the small kitchen table buried in textbooks and flashcards. The apartment wasn’t terrible, it was just small. One bedroom. Thin walls. A couch that had seen better days.
But it felt tight. Like the air didn’t circulate properly.
The sound of the bathroom door slamming open snapped her out of her thoughts.
She knew those heavy footsteps.
Toji.
He came into view shirtless, athletic shorts slung low on his hips, his dark hair damp with sweat. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp in a way that meant something had gone wrong.
“Practice was shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Coach kept riding my ass about footwork. Like I don’t already know what I’m doing.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” Again apologizing out of habit.
He barely looked at her.
“They don’t appreciate me. I swear, once draft season comes around they’ll change their tune.”
“I’m sure they will,” she said gently, slipping into the tone she used with anxious patients. Calm. Supportive. Small.
He finally glanced at her, gaze dragging over her scrubs.
“You’re late.”
“I stayed a few extra minutes. First day was busy.”
“Yeah?”
That was it. No follow-up. “No, how was it?”. “No, are you tired?”.
He walked past her into the kitchen, grabbed a water bottle, and downed half of it in one go.
Crazy to believe they’re relationship hadn’t always felt like this.
They’d met at a party she never wanted to attend. Nobara had practically dragged her there.
“Just one night,” Nobara friend had insisted. “You study like you’re allergic to fun.”
The house had been loud, bodies packed wall to wall, music rattling through her ribcage. And there he was, Toji Fushiguro. Star player. Loud laugh. Surrounded by people.
A match made in hell.
The cocky football player with dreams of going pro and a habit of partying every weekend.
And the quiet girl who kept her head in textbooks, who only came because she was a typical people pleaser who didn’t know how to say no.
They’d ended up talking in the kitchen somehow. He’d teased her about her major. She’d rolled her eyes. He’d liked that.
She didn’t remember when teasing turned into walking her home. Or when walking her home turned into late-night calls. Or when those calls turned into dating.
He became her first everything. Her first late night conversation while holding hands. Her first kiss. And her first time in bed, which she oh so heavily regretted more than often.
She remembered the night she showed up at his dorm crying.
Her family had done it again, very not so subtle jabs about her grades not being “impressive enough,” about how nursing school was “too ambitious,” about how she should be more realistic. And about how she would always be the kid who never did enough and couldn’t accomplish anything that exceeded their expectations.
She’d felt small. Unwanted. But most importantly, she was done with having to deal with it all together.
Toji had opened the door and immediately pulled her into his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he’d said into her hair. “They don’t see your worth? That’s their problem.”
He’d held her until her breathing evened out.
A month later, he’d suggested they get a small apartment together.
“So you don’t have to deal with them,” he’d said. “I’ll take care of you.”
At first, it felt like safety. But somewhere along the way, “I’ll take care of you” turned into “You’d have nowhere to go without me.”
He didn’t say it often.
He didn’t have to.
Living together had peeled him open in ways she hadn’t expected. The late-night anger when games didn’t go well. The broken controller once. The slammed cabinets. The way arguments always twisted back to her fault somehow. The constant partying and very occasional flirting with other girls, which he always claimed were the “couple of drinks” getting to him.
“You’re quiet,” Toji said now, stepping closer while she was taking off her scrubs, tired and ready for a bath hoping it would wash off her exhaustion and give her a boost to finish up some homework.
“I’m just tired.” “Really, really tired.” She added, hoping that would make him have some pity for her as she could already tell what his next move would be.
It didn’t.
He moved into her space anyway, hands settling on her waist. Firm. Possessive.
“Long day for me too,” he murmured, mouth brushing her temple like it was affectionate instead of claiming.
She stiffened for half a second before relaxing out of reflex.
He didn’t ask about her first day.
He didn’t notice the way her shoulders ached.
But his hands slid lower.
“Missed you,” he said, though it sounded less like confession and more like expectation.
She swallowed.
“Can I at least change first?”
He huffed softly. “You always stall.”
“It’s not stalling. I just got home.”
“You live here,” he replied. “It’s not like you’re a guest.”
The words shouldn’t have felt sharp.
But they did.
She nodded anyway. Giving into his lust and just praying it went by quick enough for her to get other things done.
****************************
The bathroom door clicked shut behind her sometime later.
The tub filled slowly, steam curling toward the ceiling.
She sank into the water with a quiet sigh, muscles finally releasing the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding all day.
The apartment was silent now. Toji had retreated to the living room, the muffled sound of sports commentary bleeding through the walls.
She leaned her head back against the cool porcelain.
And somehow, without meaning to, her mind drifted.
To the back of the hospital.
To the faint smell of cigarette smoke in the wind.
“Kento Nanami,” she murmured under her breath, testing the weight of his name again.
It felt steady.
Controlled.
Safe.
He had looked at her like she was capable. Not fragile.
“Kindness is useful in this field. But don’t confuse it with shrinking yourself.”
Her chest tightened.
She dipped lower into the water until it brushed her chin.
Nanami.
A handsome man.
Not in the flashy, loud way Toji was. Not in the way that demanded attention when he walked into a room.
But quiet. Solid. Intentional.
The kind of man who pronounced her name carefully.
Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought.
Stop.
She pressed her lips together, annoyed with herself. It was just a conversation. He’s just your supervisor.
But still.
For the first time in a long while, someone had seen her without making her feel small.
***********************
Later, wrapped in an oversized hoodie, she sat at the kitchen table with her pharmacology textbook open.
Flashcards scattered around her like fallen leaves.
Toji laughed loudly at something on the TV.
She tried to focus.
ACE inhibitors. Beta blockers. Side effects.
Her eyes blurred.
Exhaustion crept up slowly, tugging at her limbs.
Her pen slipped from her fingers.
Head lowering gently onto folded arms, she told herself she’d just close her eyes for a second.
Just a second.
Her last thought before sleep took her was embarrassingly soft.
Tomorrow. She’d see him again tomorrow.
And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t feel so small at work.
Outside, the TV droned on.
Inside she slept at home, but not quite at peace.