(request | you’re callie)

You sat in the isolation room, staring down at the itchy red rash covering your arms and face. Chickenpox, not exactly how you planned to spend your day.

The door slid open and Arizona’s bright smile lit up the sterile room. “Hey, Cal,” she said softly, walking over and sitting beside me.

“I hate this,” You admitted, scratching at a stubborn spot despite yourself. “Supposed to be fixing bones, not looking like a walking rash.”

She reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “You’re still the strongest person I know. Even covered in spots.”