A Jab in the Gut

Part 1: Miraculous Failure

Otto wakes up drowsy. They open their heavy eyelids to familiar, yet disappointing sterile, flourescent, hospital lights. 

Heaving a sigh, they rub their eyes and make an effort to sit up. Their side twinges and they huff a pained grunt in response.

They rub against the soreness in their throat.

Guess the local anesthetic wore off.

A knock on the door sounds through the room as it's being opened. A well groomed young man in a lab coat steps gracefully through the doorway with a clipboard on his left arm. His two toned skin and rich auburn hair being a contrast to his crisp and cool clothing.

The man parts his lips in a friendly smile and squints his tired green eyes. "I'll be your over-seeing doctor, Dr. Verner. How are we feeling?"

He looks at Otto expectantly. They feel like they're under a microscope, as if Dr. Verner analyzes their every twitch and mannerism. They wonder if he thinks ill of them, with the winding tattoos and piercings curling around their brown skin.

"Other than the crippling disappointment at failing to remove myself from the living world...? Pretty peachy!" Otto replies with faux confidence. They could feel their face heat up the longer they looked the handsome doctor in the eye. Looking someone in the face after they pumped your stomach isn't exactly easy, especially when they're so gorgeous. Otto averts their attention to the readings on all the machines to their right. They have no idea what any of the numbers mean, but since the doctor doesn't look too overly concerned, they don't worry about it.

The doctor's smile falters as Otto has ultimately failed to keep their eyes off of him. A crack in the facade, good to know this fresh faced doctor isn't actually this cheery.

Verner clears his throat and continues. "... I will take the liberty of setting you up with one of my preferred psychiatrists." He messily scrawls a note on his clipboard. He pulls out a card and offers it to Otto.

Otto side glances the card and gingerly takes it, avoiding eye contact with the doctor, to the best of their ability. "... What's with the disappointed parent look? I thought doctors weren't supposed to judge."

The doctor blinks, and appears taken aback.

"I know this is hard to believe, but I don't enjoy knowing about your history of... attempts" He smoothly steps to the side of Otto's bed and pulls one of the chairs a smidge closer. He sits with a soft puff of air from the plastic material. "What I have learned over the past couple years is that judgement is something I have to do every single time I interact with a patient, to be able to do right by them."

Otto looks to Dr. Verner, a confused expression etched into their face. Their vision is like frosted glass, and their lips pursed.

"I do want you to get better. Though it may seem silly to you, I care what happens when you leave this room, or even this hospital." His expression is concerned, yet determined. "I recommend Dr. Winther because I trust that she will do everything in her ability to help you."

Otto feels a hot pressure behind their eyes from the words he says. A weight balls up in their stomach at the prospect of failing him. Barely meeting the guy and getting attached? Pathetic.

The doctor hesitates for a second, "...You staying in the living world is important, at least to me."

Just someone telling them that they mattered was enough to make them crumble. God damn it, why can't they keep themselves together! Otto can't see through the tears built up in their eyes, so they blink and a set of tear tracks runs down their chin. They barely contain the sobs from the aching pressure in their chest, how embarrassing.

It's ridiculous that they're crying in front of a doctor that doesn't even know them. The gaping emptiness that had lived inside them for years sinks deeper, and they feel like they're trapped in a falling elevator.

They sniff, the sound is wet and gross and so not attractive.

The doctor offers Otto a box of tissues. They take a couple tissues and clear their nose, grabbing some hand sanitizer on the small desk. "All I want you to do is talk to her and figure out what can help you in the best way possible. I promise that she is the most capable psychiatrist I know." He moves to sit on the side of the bed, Otto scooting over to accommodate. 

The doctor's eye contact is unwavering and certain. Otto feels overwhelmed by the commitment. They're not used to people looking them in the eye like that.

The doctor spreads his arms in an offer for a hug. They can't believe this doctor, who has barely interacted with them, is offering such a comfort. God they haven't hugged someone in years.

Otto hesitantly wraps their arms around him, hands gripping on the back of his lab coat.

The name embroiderrd on it, Dr. Everett Verner, P.h.d. MD. Everett, Everett. Everett smells like sea salt and coconut, and he is extremely warm. Everett firmly returns the hug.

"...okay." they breathe out shakily. Fuck, this is not the impression they want to give off, but-

He is so warm, so secure. The sweater-vest he wears is unbelievably soft, well worn. The subtle and firm circles he presses into their shoulder blades relieves some of the pressure in their gut.

If Everett can feel their wet breaths and tears soak into his coat, he doesn't say anything about it.

They both part from the hug and Otto remembers the card.

Their grip on the card is firm as they examine it. Now that Otto thinks about it, somehow, Dr. Winther was a name that sounded familiar...