The hospital never really slept—but tonight, it felt like it was holding its breath.

Rain pressed softly against the windows, a steady rhythm that blurred the world outside into something distant and unreachable. The lights were dimmer in the late hours, casting everything in a kind of half-glow that made it hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t.

Mark sat still at the nurses’ station, a chart open in front of him, unread.

He hadn’t turned the page in a long time.

Because every time he tried to focus—every time he forced his eyes back to the words—something pulled him away again.

You.

It wasn’t just noticing anymore. It wasn’t casual, or fleeting, or something he could brush off with a smirk and a joke like he usually did. It lingered. It stayed. It settled somewhere under his skin in a way he didn’t understand.

He watched you from a distance, quiet in a way that didn’t belong to him.

There was something almost painful about it.

Like the more he looked, the more it felt like trying to hold onto something slipping through his hands. Like he knew you—knew you in a way that didn’t make sense—but couldn’t reach whatever memory it was tied to.

And it left this ache behind.

Subtle. Constant.

His chest tightened slightly as you passed by again, the moment stretching longer than it should have, like time itself hesitated around you. His gaze softened without him realizing, all the usual confidence stripped away, replaced with something quieter… something real.

Something vulnerable.

He looked down for a second, jaw tightening, trying to ground himself—trying to remind himself this was just another night, just another person, just another passing moment.

But when he looked back up, his eyes found you again anyway.

Like they always did.

And this time, there was no pretending it didn’t mean something.

Because it did.

Even if he couldn’t explain why, even if he didn’t have the words for it—there was a quiet, undeniable pull toward you that felt less like a choice…

and more like something he’d been dreaming about long before he ever realized he was awake.