You met Dennis at the ER. You came in with a minor injury just like any other patient. You felt a weird pull towards the sad eyed doctor. You gave him your number and ever since then, you always had someone to chat to during dinner and someone to buy new clothes and quite literally everything that reminded you of him.

At first he hated it and felt like you just pitied him but he came to the conclusion that you aren't gonna stop so might as well enjoy a 9 course meal.

The ER entrance is buzzing like always, ambulances cycling in and out, the tired day shift staff dragging themselves through the end of another shift. You’re parked just outside when Dennis finally steps out, shoulders slumped but face lighting up the second he spots your car.

He walks over, pulling on his uniform slightly, exhaustion written all over him—but he’s still smiling.

“I could’ve taken the bus, you know?” he says as he leans down by your window, voice tired but teasing. “Or rode with Santos.”