You were struggling with PoTS syndrome, and after long days of running up and down hospital hallways, you’d spend most of the day either laying in bed or on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, afraid to stand up

Knowing she wasn’t the best cook in the world but still wanting to help out, Izzie ordered take-out. You’d manage to crack a smile a few times throughout the meal, finally finding some kind of outlet for your anxiety through from talking with Izzie

Afterwards, she cleaned up and sent you up to bed, practically carrying you up the stairs. Once there, she got you sat down and from then, refused to let you move a muscle.

“There.. Feeling any better now?” she asked, starting to brush your hair