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Mel had been friends with Frank Langdon for four months, one week, and three days. Four days if you counted that very first day, before he’d gone away. She wasn’t sure if she did count that or not. She had been in love with Frank Langdon for three months, three weeks, and five days. She knew this because she could remember the exact moment when she realised that she was in love with him.
It had been an ordinary moment, honestly. They were at work, which was fitting for their relationship, and they had been treating another patient who was screaming about all the information that google had told them about the treatment plan being unsafe and it was all getting very overstimulating for Mel. She was trying her best to remain present but it was hard, and of course Frank could see it all over her face. He’d asked her to go put in the order some tests, a nice face-saving excuse to step away for a few minutes. And as she inched past him, he muttered a joke, whispered just for her ears. And Mel smiled. Almost laughed, in fact.
And that was how she knew – not just because he had seen her struggling when others would have missed it, not just because he offered her an easy excuse to collect herself, but because he had made that stupid little joke to try to help and it had. Before Frank, Mel had never experienced that. Nothing had ever cut through the feeling of being overwhelmed, she just had to wait for it to pass. But Frank and his silly joke had slipped right through all the overstimulation and offered just a little, fleeting moment of relief. And it seemed so obvious, especially when combined with all the other symptoms, that the reason he could do that was because she was in love with him.
The problem with this realisation was that Frank was most definitely not in love with her, and Mel knew this, primarily, because he was married. To a tall woman with auburn hair who smiled easily and charmed a room even better than Frank did. And it didn’t really matter who he was married to because married was married regardless, but every detail about Abby really only seemed to confirm that even if Frank weren’t married, Mel would most definitely not be his type.
Mel was doing her best to ignore her feelings, hoping that if she pushed them aside firmly enough, long enough, eventually they would go away. Just like being overstimulated. If she just rode it out, the feeling would pass in time. The problem was, Frank seemed to be doing everything in his power to ensure that she wouldn’t move on. The way he would joke with her, and seemingly remember every little thing she said. The way he looked at her in awe when they were working a case together. The way he would see her, really see her, past the facade that she put on so people would see only what she wanted them to. The way he always did exactly what she needed.
Except that what she needed was for him to do none of it so that she stopped feeling like he was so perfect.
The worst part was that Mel was pretty sure that Frank had no idea. He didn’t seem to have any clue about how she felt or the effect that he had on her. He didn’t seem to realise that he was flirting with her, and however harmless it was to him, it made her heart flutter every time. And the fact that he didn’t know he was doing it was so frustrating. How could she be mad at him for something he didn’t even know he was doing?
Mel was doing her best. She really was. But by the time November rolled around, she felt like a trampoline, tension pulling her in every direction, reactive to even the slightest thing. And for some reason, Frank was apparently feeling extra touchy.
The rain was incessant, thunder rolling every few minutes. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her skin constantly prickling like the precursor to goosebumps. She was on edge. At the beginning of their shift, Frank had gently touched her shoulder as he said hello to her, his hand trailing as soft as a breath over her arm. Mel’s second case was a car crash worked with Frank, his fingers brushing over her spine as he edged past her in Trauma 2. As she downed a granola bar in the stairwell, he had come to talk to her, his thigh bumping against hers as he sat down. Each contact made Mel feel like she was wound tighter and tighter, ready to burst.
She stood in the middle of the ER, looking up at the board and trying to decide whether she wanted to give in to the high being around Frank or get some distance and hopefully ease her frayed nerves.
“Hey, Dr King?” Robby’s gravelly voice interrupted her thoughts, making her jump.
“Yeah? Uh, yes?” she said, quickly correcting her surprised reaction.
“I thought you might like to clock out early,” he offered, giving her a small smile. When she furrowed her brow and shook her head slightly in response, his grin widened a little, just a smidge warmer. “There’s been reports of blackouts around the city from the storm, including, I believe, in the area where your sister’s center is located. I just thought you might want to go pick her up. Everyone else here has other people to rely on for help. Spouses, parents… so I’m giving you first dibs. If you want it.”
Mel hesitated. She didn’t like the pity that was there. Everyone else has other people. The implication that she was alone, that she was abnormal for it… Defective. It was so common and yet it grated against her all the same. Especially because she wanted it. God, how nice would it be to have someone who could help her and share the burden?
“Mel! Can you come –” Frank was shouting from the side of a stretcher that he was wheeling toward Trauma 1.
And suddenly Mel knew. She couldn’t spend more time with him, not today. She couldn’t risk him touching her one more time, not when any second now she was going to do something stupid and reckless.
“NoI’mLeaving!” she shouted back, the words coming out too loud and too high-pitched and too fast to be normal.
Colour rose on her cheeks as Frank looked at her with a baffled expression. Robby’s eyebrows were raised in surprise as well, though if anything he looked somewhat amused.
“Um, thank you, Dr Robby, it’s very kind of you,” she mumbled, already backing away toward the lockers as Robby’s amused expression seemed to intensify. Her hip bumped into one of the desks, making the computer it was home to wobble a little, and she felt the bruise that would surely form as a result. “I’ll see you, um, tomorrow, I guess.”
Without waiting for anything else, Mel turned and fled.
She made a beeline for the lockers as a flush warmed her face, and she hoped that no one was paying any attention to her even as she sped across the ER floor in a most conspicuous manner. When she finally reached her locker, she punched in the code and yanked out her jacket before she finally stopped and made herself take several deep breaths. She was fine. Everything was fine. After another minute, she felt at least a little bit better, her nervous system having regulated itself. She shrugged her raincoat on, zipping up the cerulean fabric around her, letting herself envision that she was building a shelter around herself. Mel could hear quick footsteps nearby, but she didn’t turn to look as she made her way to the doors that led out to the parking deck.
Outside, Mel was drenched within seconds. Thunder rumbled continuously in the sky, rain hammered against the cement, wind howled. Stepping through the doors was like stepping into a barrage of noise. She could feel the sounds pelting her as surely as she could feel the drops of rain. It felt kind of nice after a minute. Cleansing. Mel stood there, letting the rain wash over her, eyes closed.
She didn’t hear the doors open, didn’t hear anyone call her name. She didn’t hear the sound of shoes splashing in the puddles of rainwater on the cement.
His fingers pressed lightly, tentatively, against her shoulder.
Mel whirled around, eyes wide. It was a weird feeling when she saw him – half of her relaxed, seeing that it wasn’t some crazy axe murderer, but the other half immediately tensed, her stomach turning into knots the way it often did when Frank appeared.
“Mel!” he shouted, the volume necessary with the cacophony of the storm despite the fact that he was barely a foot away from her.
Frank was soaked. His dark hair almost black in the rain and the few wispy strands at the front were plastered to his forehead, precipitating streams of water down his face. Mel followed them with her eyes – down the bridge of his nose until drops fell from the tip; across his cheek like tears running to the corner of his lips where his tongue swiped them away; over his temple and his cheekbone and the cliff of his jaw, forming a river that disappeared under the collar of his scrub shirt. Mel felt the insane urge to trace each path with her fingers.
“Mel, did I do something wrong?” Frank asked, still yelling into the storm. He looked at her with such earnestness, and it was not lost on Mel that the dark grey light of the storm only seemed to make his eyes more blue. “You seem… I don’t know, different today. Like you’re mad at me or you don’t want to be around me or something. What happened?”
“Nothing!” she died, shaking her head frantically, droplets of rain flying from the strands of hair that had escaped her braid.
“Don’t lie to me, Mel!” he replied, frowning at her. “We don’t do that. And I promise, you can tell me anything!”
“Um…” Mel struggled, trying to find the words, any words, that were true but not the truth. Anything that was better than confessing to him that she was so hopelessly in love with him that she genuinely thought it might drive her insane.
She did notice, however, that as she stood there, trying to think of what to say, with every moment that the silence dragged on, Frank seemed to grow more concerned. He was watching her with wide eyes, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted. He was standing as still as she’d ever seen him, his whole body tense and waiting. His head tipped to the side a little, frown deepening as he watched her. He looked… worried, confused, sad. Wrecked. He looked wrecked. Like the hero in a novel as he pleaded with the woman he loved.
Except that didn’t make sense. Frank Langdon didn’t love her, certainly not in a romantic way. Maybe a platonic love, maybe, but that didn’t fit with the way he was looking at her now. Mel studied his expression again, thinking that maybe she had misread something, but no, it seemed exactly as she’d first thought.
“Mel, please,” he said, pulling her away from her thoughts, “talk to me.”
And god, he was just so sincere. What was she supposed to do?
Mel took a deep breath and let the words fall from her lips.
“Frank, I’m pretty sure I’ve gone crazy because how else do I explain it and maybe I should go see a psychologist or something but as torturous as it is, I’m also not sure that I want to change it, which is even more crazy, but the thing is… the thing is I’m in love with you and I know that I can’t be and I value your friendship so much and I never want to lose it but I also don’t know how to keep being your friend when every time you touch me so casually it makes me feel like lightning just fanned over my skin and every time you smile at me my heart swoops and every time you tell me a joke or comfort me, it makes me feel like finally, finally someone sees me. And nobody has ever made me feel like this, Frank, never. And I just don’t know what to do with that because I don’t want to be a homewrecker but also, I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone other than you. But wanting you like this, loving you like this, Frank it hurts so much because I know you don’t feel the same and even if you did, you’re married, and –”
Frank had seemed content to just let her babble until she tired herself out, but apparently that was just too much. He had to correct the record. “I’m not married.”
“What?” Mel asked, stopped in her tracks, blinking at him in confusion.
“I’m not married,” he repeated. “I mean, not really. Abby and I separated months ago, and the divorce isn’t final, but it’s already in the works.”
“But… your ring…” Mel protested weakly, unable to understand why she was even arguing with him, but equally unable to stop herself.
Frank shrugged. “It’s a little bit of a habit, but also… I don’t know, patients don’t flirt with me as much with the ring on, and I’m not really interested in meeting anyone, so it seems like an easy way to avoid the awkwardness.”
She felt like her mind was wading through molasses, processing information slowly and getting stuck on each thought. Once again, she felt like she was feeling opposite and contradictory things at the same time – what was it about Frank that allowed for such paradoxes to exist within her? The joy and excitement and immediate elation she felt upon hearing that he wasn’t married anymore, the sudden possibilities of the statement flitting through her mind. Only for the door to immediately slam shut on them of the reality of Frank saying he wasn’t interested in meeting anyone to sink a dagger of disappointment into her heart.
“Mel?” he prompted, frowning as he looked at her.
“I… um, yeah, that… that makes sense,” she mumbled, her mind struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Probably good that you don’t, um… that you’re not looking to… meet anyone… Um, you’ve got a lot… first year of recovery… divorce…”
Frank was staring at her with the faintest hint of a smile twisting his lips and crinkling his eyes. Mel was reminded of their first day of work together, when she had asked if Captain Scurvy was a joke. I’d like to think so. He wore the same expression now. Except that now she found it irritating. She knew that Frank wasn’t mocking her, she knew him well enough by now to know that he would never do that. But that expression still felt like when people laughed at Mel behind her back (or to her face) for not understanding something that everyone else did.
“What?” she snapped, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“Mel, that’s not what I meant,” Frank said slowly, his eyes fixated on her. “I have no desire to meet anyone because I already met the only person I have any interest in. You, Mel.”
“Me?” she repeated, her brain trying to process the revelation.
“You,” he confirmed. His smile was slowly growing as he waited for her to catch up.
Mel turned away for a minute. She needed a break from his gaze, from the influence of his stupid, perfect face. Her thoughts were buzzing inside her mind, impossible to catch. She wanted to be happy, thrilled that she’d just found out her feelings weren’t unrequited after all, but she found that she was mostly filled with questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked after a minute, allowing the question that was at the forefront bubble to her lips.
Frank sighed heavily, running his hands through his wet hair. “I don’t know, Mel. I mean, the length of my sobriety aside, which isn’t all that impressive to begin with –”
Mel scoffed. She thought that being over 400 days sober was very impressive.
“– I’m still a drug addict. And I wasn’t a good husband for a lot of reasons, and you deserve a good partner, Mel. I don’t know if I’m capable…” He sighed and shook his head like he didn’t want to acknowledge his insecurities anymore. “Not to mention, I only found out that you have feelings for me like five minutes ago.”
“But…” Mel knew she was fixated on the wrong thing, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her voice came out small, wounded, in a way that made her cringe. “I thought we were friends, why wouldn’t you tell me that you were getting divorced?”
Frank paused for a moment, seemingly allowing himself to ponder the question. “I think… I think I didn’t want to tangle you up in all of it. It was already confusing… how I feel about you and trying to make sure that the divorce was the right thing, that I wasn’t doing it because of you. I think that if I told you and let you comfort me, it would have made everything too muddled. Does that make sense?”
Mel considered, tipping her head to the side a little. “I think so. Like compartmentalizing.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged.
That question now satisfied, Mel’s mind was able to move on to other things, to his declarations earlier. “You really didn’t know?”
“Didn’t know what?” he asked, brows furrowing.
“That I like you?” she clarified, watching his reaction carefully.
Frank’s whole expression brightened, a smile returning to his features. “No. Well, maybe? But I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe I just wanted it so badly…”
Mel matched his smile with one of her own. “I didn’t even want to hope…”
He stepped closer, his hands twitching by his side. “Well. Now we both know.”
“So now what?” she asked, her whole body shivering with the thrill.
“I was sort of hoping that I could kiss you,” he stated, just a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
It felt like time was standing still for a moment, frozen by the tension swirling around them. Rain still poured down, but neither of them cared. This moment would be worth catching a cold for. The way Frank looked standing in front of her, Mel thought it might even be worth dying for.
At last, she nodded, and without hesitation, Frank took another step closer, now firmly in her space. He reached out with one hand, finding her waist. With the other, he cradled her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. His touch felt fiery on her rain-cooled skin, a delightful and intoxicating warmth. Mel leaned into it, tipping her face up toward him like a flower toward the sun. Frank gazed at her with a devoted smile for only a moment and then his eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned in, lips pressing softly against hers.
Mel had never known that a simple kiss could feel so… much. And yet it was the opposite of overstimulation – she never wanted this to end. The heat from their breaths and their skin was turning the rain between them into little puffs of fog and when Mel’s fingers wrapped themselves around his scrub shirt, cold water squelched from between them, eliciting a breathless giggle from her. Frank caught her lips again, absorbing the sound of her laugh like it was the only thing that could sustain him.
She couldn’t have said whether they kissed for one minute or one hour. It seemed like a blissful eternity before Frank pulled away, brushing the tip of his nose against hers affectionately and smiling broadly.
“I have to go back inside,” he said, sounding like it was the last thing he wanted to do.
If they had been different people with different jobs, Mel would have told him to stay, would have tried to convince him to obey their desires and linger with her longer, ignoring his responsibilities. But they weren’t, and she understood that the people who were still in that ER were depending on him. However much she might want him, they needed him. So she didn’t plead with him or try to convince him, she merely cupped his face in her hand, smiling when he turned enough to press his lips to her palm.
“Okay,” she allowed.
Frank took another step back, seemingly with great effort. His hand found hers and held tightly to it in the open space between their bodies. Another step back.
“I’ll call you after the shift?” he asked, tentative.
Mel could tell that he wasn’t sure where her boundaries were but that he badly wanted to respect them. She appreciated that more than she could ever hope to articulate.
“Yes, please,” she said, her smile so insanely wide that she felt like the cheshire cat.
“Okay,” he agreed.
Frank squeezed her hand and Mel returned the gesture, and then he turned, wrenching himself away from her.
As he walked toward the door, Mel lifted her fingers to her lips, half-convinced that she could still feel his kiss lingering on her skin. It was the only thing keeping her from wondering if this was all some sort of dream, or if she’d slipped and hit her head and was having a coma-induced fantasy. But she knew she wasn’t, because in all the times she had dreamed about kissing Frank, Mel had never imagined it would feel so wonderful.
Frank looked back over his shoulder as he pulled open the door, and as he took her in, Mel would have sworn to anyone who asked that his smile was one thousand times brighter than the lightning that lit up the sky above them.