Ever Room With A Venomous Spider? (Miguel O'Hara x Male Reader)

A Medic on Christmas Eve

C/N

Holy hell 100 Kudos? Nah, that's actually insane to me, 100 indivisuals pressed the button. That's crazy to me. Thank you so much for the support everyone, I truly mean it when I say its the reason why I write often.

It's a bit of a shorter 3k chapter compared to usual 5k. Just wanted to produce something for you guys haha. Part two of the chapter will come out surely.

Three songs for you!!!
1. Asleep Among Endives - Ichiko Aoba
2. Love in the Afternoon - Lamp
3. Soren - Beabadoobee

Most of the tracks for today are in Japanese, so if you're looking for something calm and sweet to the ear it would be right down your alley.
Enjoy the chapter nerveless! Smiled a lot while writing this chapter.

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Upper West Side, New York: Saturday, December 24th, 2023, 4:32 a.m.

Location: A kitchen table in Rylan's apartment

At the precise moment when 4:32 a.m. arrived on the eve of Christmas, I discovered myself leaning over the table in the kitchen, clutching a pen, attentively incorporating the last delicate touches to my document.

The tranquil stillness of the nocturnal hours embraced me like a gentle, reassuring cover, granting my ideas the freedom to effortlessly manifest onto the parchment. The radiance emanating from the lamp cast enchanting, moving silhouettes throughout the chamber, crafting an imaginative ambiance that mirrored the enchantment of this festive time of year.

Outside, the city slumbered under a blanket of snow, its streets adorned with twinkling lights that resembled a starry sky brought down to Earth.

The television droned on in the background, its muted voices resembling distant echoes, as if the world beyond my thoughts had faded into a distant memory. The news anchors delivered updates on the day's events, their voices like gentle whispers, reminding me of the passage of time and the imminent arrival of Christmas.

As I immersed myself in the creative process, the ink flowing from my pen felt like an artist's brush, delicately painting the canvas of my thoughts.

Every single word, every sentence, bore within it a fragment of my soul, intricately entwined to form a rich banner of sentiments and concepts. The scent of old coffee permeated the atmosphere, intermingling with the delicate fragrance of paper and ink. It became a harmonious symphony of aromas, serving as a muse, revitalizing my senses, and igniting the flames of inspiration.

The steam rising from the cup danced in the lamplight, resembling ethereal wisps of inspiration that curled and swirled in the air.

I should be asleep now, but nocturnal habits always arise.

As the clock ticked closer to Christmas, a heaviness settled within me, overshadowing the festive cheer that permeated the air. Guilt gnawed at my conscience like an unwelcome visitor that refused to leave. I knew I had been avoiding Vincent's calls and messages, and the weight of my own immaturity pressed down upon me.

I couldn't pinpoint why I had distanced myself from Vincent, my closest friend. Perhaps it was the overwhelming chaos that has consumed my life lately, leaving little room for meaningful connections. Perhaps it was the apprehension of imposing my worries upon him that made me opt instead to retreat into the sanctuary of my own thoughts. Regardless of the underlying motivations, I acknowledged the mistake in my actions. Disregarding Vincent's sincere efforts to connect with me was inequitable and lacked justification. He deserved better than my silence, especially during a time when friendship and companionship should be cherished the most.