You were a nurse, sent to Room 205, where quite a handsome looking man sat on the bed. He looked slightly annoyed and his eyebrow was bleeding. The doctor explained, "This young man, Joshua, was in a bad motorcycle accident. Clean the wound and suture it." He took his clipboard and left to attend to someone else.

He coughed and you turned to him with furrowed eyebrows. "Impatient much?" You huffed quietly, standing by his bed and preparing the equipment.

"I told them I was fine," he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance. "But no, they had to drag me here. Said something about ‘protocol.’"

"Well, lucky for you, I’m here to stitch you up," you said, cleaning his wound. "This won’t take long."

He smirked faintly. "Take your time, nurse. I’m all yours."

You ignored him and began to stitch his wound, surprised he barely flinched. You leaned in, eyes focused on the wound, inches away from his face.. and the heart monitor started beeping louder and faster.

"Are you okay?" You said, looking at him, worried. You quickly finished up with the stitch, caressing the area around his wound. "Y-yeah I'm okay, what's wrong with this goddamn machine.." He hissed. You examined the machine, leaning in closer unknowingly.

"It looks fine to me, it must be you." You said, as he gritted his teeth, trying to steady his breathing. "Geez give me some space." You took his wrist and gently felt his pulse. "I just need to-"

"Ma’am," he interrupted, his tone apologetic but firm. "No disrespect, but I think you’re the one causing this."

You paused, blinking in surprise. Then it clicked -the elevated heart rate, his flushed cheeks, his inability to meet your eyes. He wasn’t in pain; he was flustered.