Asystole ✷ Mark Sloan

𝟬𝟰𝟬 talk it out

"I'm happy." My voice had sounded very unsure. 

Charlie sighed, his breath causing my hair to sway. I had to wet my lips, feeling a burn at the back of my eyes. It'd reminded me of when Charlie had spoken to his brother and had been branded as 'too happy.' Charlie was too happy here with me. Charlie was too happy and I wasn't happy at all. 

"I'm very happy." I said.

"Beth," The way he'd said my name made my heartache. Anxiously, I'd clicked my pen against my palm. He'd reached over and taken it from my hand, stopping me from fiddling. "You were crying in the bath."

"I had something in my eye."

"You had a rough day at a job that you don't like." His words caused my chest to restrict. "You're not happy Beth." Pause. "This doesn't make you happy. This is the second time you've had to fill out one of those forms— You're not doing what you want to do—"

"Charlie-"

"No," He'd made me look at him, searching my eyes for any sign that I was lying. Tirelessly, I'd just resorted to avoiding his eye. "Say the word and I'll have Dom on the phone and we'll be in some hospital and you'll be on a surgical internship in one of his hospitals." My eyes burned with tears. I looked away, feeling very numb and empty. He must've sensed my shift in mood as he cleared his throat. "Or we could go back into the non-profit, we can be doing groundwork— travelling the world—"

"Charlie, I..." I'd paused and then I'd cleared my throat. "We don't need that. I'm happy–– I'm fine. I'm happy, baby. I promise."

He'd looked sad. "You're not. I've seen you happy and this isn't it." He paused for a second. "Look- I'm sorry that I've been busy with work and I wish I could—"

"Don't apologise." I'd cut him off, my heart-wrenching at his words.

 My face had paled and I'd stared him with wide, round eyes that flushed with unshed tears. A sense of horror had gripped me so suddenly that I almost choked with the speed of my interruption. 

"Don't apologise for your career," I'd said, "You've already done so much for me— There's nothing you should apologise for."

I could appreciate a career-driven individual. I wasn't hurt by the fact that I slept on my own, I was concerned. Charlie was being worked to the bone and I had to watch the weight of his blind loyalty and drive whittle him down. 

A pair of bloodshot eyes were what stared back at me. I pressed my hand against his cheek. Something about his tone and his expression implied that he felt guilty. Charlie was apologising for the hours he was devoted to his brother's non-profit. He was apologising for the charity work that would be virtually unpaid. 

He felt guilty for my sadness but he had nothing to do with it— I felt like an awful human being in that moment. All I wanted to do was hug him tightly to my chest (if that wouldn't leave me in agony)

"Say the word." He'd murmured, pressing a kiss against my palm. Charlie had spoken into it, voice low and husky, breath tickling my skin. "Say the word and we'll leave this place and you'll never have to think about any of this again."

Leaving Seattle was something that danced at the back of my mind all hours of the day. It'd become a friendly warmth almost, something that gave me a push to go forwards. 

Did I like the city? Sure, but I'd always been an East Coaster through and through. The West Coast felt foreign in some many ways— and I could see that it was the same for Charlie.

I didn't exactly believe his statement about not thinking about Seattle. I was always thinking, always exhausting myself with the past. Two weeks prior to this conversation, I'd gotten all worked up over an awkward exchange with a cashier that had spanned over two and a half minutes.