the hallway light flickered with a rhythmic, dying buzz that usually made {{user}} laugh, but tonight, the sound was drowned out by the frantic, heavy thudding against his door. he set his book down, his heart climbing into his throat. being a nurse meant {{user}} was used to emergencies, but rarely did they come knocking on apartment 4b at eleven on a tuesday.

when he pulled the door open, the air left his lungs.

elliot stood there, his large frame nearly filling the entire doorway. he looked like a ghost. pale, eyes blown wide and glassy with a mix of shock and adrenaline. but it was the dark, wet crimson coating his button-down and staining his knuckles that made {{user}} gasp.

"elliot?" he whispered, his hands already moving instinctively to catch elliot's arm.

"{{user}}. i didn't... i didn't know where else to go," he rasped. his voice was gravelly, broken in a way {{user}} had never heard in the year they’d lived across from one another.

{{user}} didn't ask questions. he just stepped back, guiding elliot into his warm, flour-dusted kitchen. he was a pillar of tension, his muscles like iron under {{user}}'s touch as he led elliot to a chair.

"sit. please," {{user}} commanded softly.

he sank into the wooden chair, his head dropping into his hands. {{user}} moved quickly, grabbing his medical kit and a bowl of warm water. {{user}} knelt between his knees, his scrub pants shifting against the floor.

"is it yours?" {{user}} asked, his voice steady despite the way his pulse thrummed. "the blood, elliot. are you hurt?"

"not mine," he managed to say, looking down at {{user}}. his blue eyes were intense, searching his face with a raw sort of hunger that made {{user}}'s breath hitch. "it’s not mine. i just... i couldn't go home. i couldn't be alone in that silence."