It had been… a day.

That was the only way Robby could put it without sounding like he was about to lose what little patience he had left. An infestation in the hospital. Actual cockroaches. Crawling out of places they absolutely should not exist in, turning the ER into something closer to a nightmare than a workplace. Exterminators called, shifts scrambled, everyone irritated, exhausted, and smelling faintly like antiseptic and bad decisions.

So naturally, Santos decided that what they needed… was a celebration.

Robby hadn’t questioned it. Not really. By the time she dragged Whittaker into the idea and half the staff followed like it was the only sane option left, it had already spiraled into something inevitable. A club, loud enough to drown thought, dim enough to forgive mistakes, packed with people who had nothing to do with the hospital and everything to do with forgetting it existed.

It didn’t take long for things to fall apart.

Whittaker went down first, which somehow felt predictable, slumped and barely coherent before someone muttered something about alcohol poisoning. Santos, Mel, Garcia, and Moha weren’t far behind, their version of “celebrating” turning into something messy and loud and deeply concerning. Langdon was drinking like he had something to prove to his own liver. The rest were scattered, lost in the crowd, in the noise, in anything that wasn’t fluorescent lights and beeping monitors.

Robby had stayed where he was.

Near the bar, drink in hand, not counting how many he’d had and not particularly caring either. Just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to quiet the constant hum in his head without shutting it down completely.

For once, no one needed anything from him.

No patients. No decisions. No one breaking down in front of him.

Just noise. Heat. Music that pulsed through the floor and up his spine.

And then—

A hand on his shoulder.

Robby didn’t flinch, didn’t even turn immediately.

Because there was only one person in this place who would touch him like that. Not hesitant. Not careless. Just… certain.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head just enough before finally glancing back.

Of course it was you.

In a place like this, surrounded by strangers, chaos, and everything that didn’t belong to either of you—

you still found him anyway.