𝘿𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 ✓

5.

━━━

"You've got this," Nurse Bridget's hands sit over my shoulders from behind, giving me a light push into the lounge hall before letting out a short giggle. 

That same push, enough to course pumping blood across the innocence of my cheeks and anxiety through my veins, taunts me relentlessly.

I suck in a short breath, my heart pounding as my head turns to meet her gaze, seeing her make her way to our usual couch before I can get the chance to protest.

Great.

 I turn back to face Stanislav's chair all the way across the hall against the wall. He's facing the TV as usual, legs crossed as he slouches in his chair, rigid. Frozen, unmoving with no motivation nor reasoning to even twitch a muscle. 

And suddenly, I am utterly intimidated.

I take another breath, my lips tightening in a thin line before I begin to slowly and quietly make my way across the hall. I move hesitantly, slowly, my palms growing uncomfortably clammy as I slowly approach his chair. The closer I get, the taller his figure seems to be. Larger. Broader. 

Just his stature discourages me, as by his position, he takes up as much space within his chair as possible. He oozes with natural, unapologetic authority, and I don't know what to make of it.

I slowly stop beside his chair. 

I'm right next to him now, and I kneel down beside the chair, hand clasping over the armrest as I take a glance at his facial structure. My heart is slamming against my ribs like never before, yet my mind screams at me, telling me to do my job, to compose myself.

He is still staring at the television, completely fixated without even acknowledging my presence. Not one single changed movement. My eyes take the silent chance to rake over his features, getting a closer look at what this man holds. His hair is jet-black and unkempt, a few locks of hair over his forehead with a short undercut, and that's the first thing I notice.

Like black ink, so deep, yet with a shuddered shine.

His eyes are quite an exceptional icy blue, and his skin is just as pale. Slight, purple-toned eyebags darken the undersides of his eyes, and his features stand incredibly symmetrical. His jawline is sharp, and his cheekbones are defined in a soft, chiselled tone, almost like a marble carving. 

My gaze fixates on him for a moment, a little taken aback at such a structure. It's not often that people like this are found, and I've never seen someone with such flawlessly defined features. 

I stare for a moment too long, my mind helplessly blanking as I cannot help but take mental snapshots, meaning no harm in how I view this man. 

The faint scent of smoke-coated spices oozes from his figure, clean and pristine, yet masculine, and my senses scream, my thoughts overworking by my parched throat and the sharp inhale I take to gain a sense of composition. 

Breathe.

My gaze slowly flutters up, and I finally part my lips to speak. 

"...Stanislav, I am Nurse Y/N, it's nice to meet you," I introduce myself as I kneel beside the chair, his eyes still lifted on the TV without any formal movement. 

Strangely enough, I am not overly phased by the lack of reciprocation. 

"How are you feeling today?" I ask, not taking his silence personally. I have no plans on taking any of his silence to heart, I'm a nurse, I'm trained for this. These are lines I am meant to say; a role I play.