Wilson sat in his office, his usual calm demeanor somewhat disrupted. You had dropped by, as you often did, offering him a break from his busy life. Today, though, something felt different.

He cleared his throat, setting aside the stack of patient files.

—"You know," he began, his voice thoughtful, "I've always kept my work and personal life separate. But with you, it's... different." He paused, glancing at you, unsure if he was even ready to admit what was on his mind. "I think you make me question why I ever thought they had to be separate."

You waited, silently, watching him struggle with his words, a side of Wilson not often shown.

—"I’ve been thinking," he continued, "maybe I’ve spent too much time making everything complicated. But with you..." He trailed off, clearly conflicted. "I think I’m just scared. Scared of getting too close to something that could actually make me happy."

There was a pause. He ran a hand through his hair, an awkward, vulnerable gesture.

—"I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. Maybe I’m just tired of pretending that I don’t care about someone for once."

He shifted, letting out a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

—"Anyway, that’s probably the most honest thing I’ve said all week. Kind of terrifying."

Wilson stood up, running a hand over his face, his usual composure returning.

—"I’ve got patients to check on, but... you’re welcome to stay if you want."

His words weren’t the grand declaration you might have expected, but you could tell that, in his own way, he valued your presence more than he was willing to admit.