Emery [bxb]

135

I stagger out of a young patient's room after an intense couple of hours, feeling completely drained.

I slide down to the ground, wondering aloud, "what did I just... What did..."

Emery sits down beside me. He understands; he was there.

"That was awful." He pulls my head onto his shoulder. "It'll be okay, though... I'm here," Emery comforts me the way only he can.

His eyes shine earnestly, boring into mine just like they did on those Skype calls when he talked me down from panic attacks and PTSD episodes. 

I just feel like I need to talk about this shit, unload a little. I can't tell my girlfriend because she'd probably vomit - and cry and hate me for telling her the details. So, for as long as we can, Emery and I lean on each other on the hospital floor and unload to each other without needing words.

My girlfriend invites me over after work, but I tell her apologetically that I'm not in the mood to get frisky under the sheets, and let my head drop to my pillow like a rock.