b1t
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“Whitaker, you need to sit down. You have a concussion.” The voice next to him tries to tell him, and it's almost familiar this time.
“Yeah I realized that, I am a fuckin' doctor. Student doctor. Whatever.” he replies, turning to squint at the man sitting next to him. “Look, can you just get Dr. Robby? He’ll tell you I'm fine, I gotta get back to work, I got… patients and shit.”
The man looks at someone behind him, some expression he can’t quite figure out. He starts to say something else, and—oh shit he’s gonna throw up fuck—he tries to lean away and not vomit all over anyone else. He doesn't quite make it.
“Shit,” yeah, he definitely ruined that guy’s shoes. Whoops. “Sorry.”
prosopagnosia
1. A form of visual agnosia characterized by difficulty with face recognition despite intact low-level visual processing. -
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Robby has gone from barely being able to watch to not wanting to even blink. He can’t keep his eyes from darting down to where Whitaker’s thighs grip the saddle, how he slides forwards on it with every downward bow of the bull and back as it pushes up. Again and again and again, he rolls with the mechanical bull with a single circular fluid motion.
It crosses his mind that this might be one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He doesn’t even try to unpack that thought, it doesn’t even feel like an opinion he can change. It’s just a fact. Whitaker on the mechanical bull is one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.
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It’s Javadi’s twenty-first birthday party and the Pitt team hit the cowboy themed bar downtown. Whitaker gets on the mechanical bull.
One thing leads to another.
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“It’s hard to understand sometimes,” Andrew says.
He reaches down to the bowl of cool water, wringing out the washcloth before wiping Neil’s forehead.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Aaron says with a scoff. “Humans are so fragile. That’s why I told you not to be with one.”
Andrew rolls his eyes. That's what Aaron still doesn't understand.
When it comes to Neil, Andrew never stood a chance.
Series
- Part 6 of into the woods
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Neil Josten was a liar before he was anything else. In the nest, sometimes his choices were between lying and dying. He’d had a decent amount of self preservation that he’d chosen the former. But now, being free, the world felt so heavy. He wished he’d chosen dying.
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“Doesn’t he smell? Homeless people in my experience always smell.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a hygiene-conducive environment.”
“So, he does smell.”
Andrew paused. “No. He doesn’t.”
Kevin looked at him dubiously. “Are you just saying that because you’re embarrassed about being attracted to a person that smells bad?”
“No,” Andrew said, narrowing his eyes at Kevin.
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the vowels and raising his eyebrows. After a moment of hesitation, he continued, “It’s okay if you're attracted to that kind of thing, I wouldn’t judge you. I mean. I would. But I wouldn’t say it, so you could pretend that I didn’t.”