Chapter Text
The private medical center is a world away from the cacophony of a concert arena.
Here, the only sounds is the whisper soft sound of the climate control and the click of Brian Littrell’s own footsteps on the polish marble floor.
It is a temple of wellness, minimalist lines and diffused lighting, design to soothe the wealthy and the famously.
Brian, unfortunately, fell in both categories.
He hold the file folder against his chest like a shield.
Inside is his entire medical history, a testament to a body that have, in many ways, betrayed him.
Dystonia.
Dysphonia.
A VSD he have since birth.
The baby blue disease that sometimes still fill his lips.
It is a lot for anyone to carry, but for a man whose entire life is his voice, his movement, his performance, it is a special kind of hell.
The receptionist, a woman with a smile as serene and flawless as the surroundings, direct him down a hall to the last door.
Doctor David Andrews.
The name is engraved on a bronze plaque.
Brian’s new doctor specialist.
His last hope, according to his manager.
He takee a steadying breathe, the action itself a conscious effort and raised his hand to knock.
The door open before his knuckles made contact with the door.
“Mr. Littrell. Right on time», said the doctor.
The voice is a soft, calm baritone, the kind that instantly command a room without ever needing to raise its volume.
Doctor David Andrews stood in the doorway and Brian’s first thought is that he look more like a lead in a medical drama than a physician.
He is tall, with broad shoulders that slightly against the fine cotton of his white coat.
His hair is a distinguish silver at the temples, contrasting with dark, thick waves.
it is his eyes that hold Brian captive, a sharp, intelligent color that seem to see everything at once.
“Please, come in», add doctor Andrews stepping aside.
His smile is professional, with a warmth that immediately put Brian at ease, even as his pulse quick.
The office is spacious, with a large mahogany desk, but the centerpiece is a state of art examination area, partially shield by a privacy screen.
It feel both advanced and strangely intimate.
“Have a seat wherever you’re comfortable», continue doctor Andrews gestured to a plush armchair near the desk before moving to lean against the edge of the desk himself.
The fabric of his dress shirt tightened across his chest.
“We can talk here, or over there later. Your choice», propose the doctor.
Brian opted for the armchair, sinking in its soft embrace.
He give out the file.
“I brought this. My medical file», whisper Brian.
Doctor Andrews take it, with his fingers brushing briefly against Brian’s.
The doctor’s hands are large, with his fingers long and capable.
Singer’s hands, Brian thought absurdly, before correcting himself.
Doctor’s hands!
“Thank you», said doctor Andrews with his eyes not leaving Brian’s as he place the medical file aside, unopened.
“before I look at what other doctors have write, I like to hear it from you. In your own words. Tell me what brings you here today», add the doctor.
It is such a simple request, but it feel profoundly different.
He wasn’t being treat as a chart.
He is being ask for the first time!
Brian’s voice, when it came, is softer than he desire, a rough whisper that hear on his own ears.
“It’s everything. The tremors. The muscle spasms. My voice it just goes. In the middle of a line. It cracks and it fails and I», begin Brian.
He look down at his hands, which have begin to restlessly fidget in his lap.
“I can’t perform like this. I can’t live like this», confess Brian.
He feel a presence near him and he look up.
Doctor Andrews have move silently from the desk and he is now kneeling on one knee in front of his chair, putting him at his eyes level.
The move is so unexpected, so surprise of the usual clinical distance, that Brian could only look.
“Look at me Brian», continue doctor Andrews with his voice dropping to that same calming voice.
“May I call you Brian?” Ask the doctor.
Brian could only nods his head with his throat tight.
“I need you to understand something», said doctor Andrews.
“This room is a judgment free zone. Every twitch, every stumble, every crack in your voice, it’s just data to me. It tells me what we need to fix. There is no shame here. Do you believe me?” Ask the doctor.
Brian move his head negatively.
The shame is a constant, humming under his skin.
looking in those steady eyes, he found himself wanting to believe.
He give another small nods to the doctor.
“Good», said doctor Andrews as he offer him a small, encouraging smile.
“Now, I’m going to do a preliminary exam. Just a few basic things. I need to see the scope of the muscular tension. Is that alright?” Ask the doctor.
“yes», whisper Brian.
“Excellent. If you just come over to the exam table for me», add the doctor.
Brian get up slightly on his unsteady legs and follow the few steps to the padded table.
Doctor Andrews stay close, with his presence a solid, warm wall beside him.
“The coat will have to go, I’m afraid», continue doctor Andrews with his voice gentle.
“It will restrict my assessment», explain the doctor.
Brian’s fingers feel thick and clumsy as he undid the buttons of his lightweight jacket.
He shake and Andrews take it from him, with his fingers move on Brian’s arm through the thin material of his t-shirt.
“The shirt too, please», said the doctor with his voice soft.
He turn to prepare a stethoscope that have be warm on a heater, giving Brian a moment of privacy that feel intensely charge.
Brian pull the soft cotton t-shirt over his head, the air cool on his bare skin.
He feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that went far beyond the physical.
He sit on the edge of the table, with his hands gripping the thin padding.
Doctor Andrews turn back, the stethoscope in his hands.
His eyes move over Brian’s torso, but with a focus, analytical intensity that is somehow more intimate.
He note the slight, familiar tremors in Brian’s hands where they hold the table.
“Just breathe normally for me», add doctor Andrews with his voice soft.
The metal disc of the stethoscope is warm, not cold, as it press against Brian’s chest.
The doctor’s head is bent close, with his silver hair just inches from Brian’s face.
Brian could smell his cologne, something clean and subtle, like sandalwood and fresh linen.
The doctor’s free hand came up to gently steady Brian’s arm.
His touch is firm, confident.
Grounding!
“Deep breathe in», add doctor Andrews with his fingers applying the slightest pressure.
Brian inhaled, the breathe shake through him.
The doctor’s hand on his arm feel like an anchor, the only solid thing in a spinning room.
He could feel the heat radiating from the doctor’s body, could sense the sheer strength in the hand that hold him.
Doctor Andrews move the stethoscope, with his fingers trailing lightly over Brian’s skin to guide the instrument to a new position.
The touch is clinical, purposeful, but it burn wherever it made contact.
“And out», continue the doctor with his voice a low vibration that Brian feel in bones.
As Brian exhaled, Andrews look up and their eyes meet.
The stethoscope is still press to Brian’s skin.
The doctor’s hand is still on his arm.
The air between them grew thick, heavy with something unspoken.
The professional mask seem to slip for a fraction of a second and in the doctor’s eyes, Brian see not just assessment, but a light of appreciation.
“Your heart is strong Brian», confirm doctor Andrews quietly with his thumb making an almost imperceptible circle on his arm.
“Very strong. Now let’s see what these muscles are telling me», said the doctor.
He pull back, the moment breaking and place the stethoscope aside.
“I need you to lie back for me. This next part requires a more hands-on approach», explain the doctor gently.