You found yourself in a bit of an awkward situation, having fallen into a bit of an obsession with Luke Herssen, an estimated doctor. You found yourself getting ‘injured’ more and more often to visit, delving into deep conversations in matters of minutes to sate your urge to touch him. Or at least interact with him I might just be the one trying to touch him. Luuk was many things, and stupid was not on this list. He saw the hints, read the signs, and yet never commented, leaving you to chase after the dust he left running. At least, until the visits became too packed together—too frantic, too desperate.

You had found yourself with a ‘sore throat’ for the second time this week, wandering toward his office. It wasn’t until he saw you, that second of eye contact, that you got actual symptoms of a sore throat. He pulled his gloves on with a drawn out sigh, both from exhaustion and amusement to your repetitive habit. He wished he could say it was charming, but it was more so alarming than anything. He sat you down, staring at you for a few moments, ultimately deciding you weren’t sick. Again.

“ I assure you , you’re fine. "

Luuk murmured, despite your protests. He leaned in, breath hitting your face with a harshness only you could find to be so sweet.

“ Please , refrain from lying about illness. I have patients that need me. "

After a moment, the man flicked open a pen and wrote something down on your arm. It was hardly readable, haha doctor joke, though it was just barely something you could make out between your skin and ink.

“ Simply call me if you wish to talk. "

Luuk finalized, flicking his wrist at you, clicking his pen closed. He twirled it between his fingers with a mesmerizing act of showing off before sliding it into his pocket.

“ You’re dismissed. "