Journey (3)

Chapter 62

back to december- taylor swift 

Another three days have passed since my last conversation with Connor, and I have to assume that we're either over, or taking a break for the foreseeable future because he won't talk to me.

At least I'm not being drowned in endless paperwork again, and I'm able to go back to treating patients. That's the single good thing about all of this.

I've seen Connor multiple times during my shifts, but he doesn't talk to me, and we manage to avoid each other mostly. Maggie and Will have definitely clocked that something's going on, and it won't be long before other people start to realise.

My shift is over now, and I'm flicking through countless television channels to find something worthwhile. Just as I find a show that I'm interested in, I hear a knock at the door of my apartment.

I carefully get up to answer the door, and as I open it up, I see Connor. He came to my apartment. He came to my apartment?!

"Connor?" I say, completely surprised. He's holding something, but I try not to look down at it yet. "You're...at my apartment. What are you doing here?"

After almost nine days of silence, he just shows up at my apartment, acting like the past week didn't happen.

"I want to talk," Connor says. "I brought takeout. And wine." He holds up the bag in one of his hands, and the bottle in the other, giving me a small smile.

"I already ate," I tell him. I still don't know what to think about this gesture. After days of ignoring me, Connor just shows up at my door with some sort of apology, and I'm meant to accept that, and and invite him.

"Okay," Connor sighs. "I get it. I know I overreacted. I just...sometimes can't get over my stubbornness until it's too late."

"Nine days," I tell him. "Nine days, since it happened. Nine days that you ignored me for, and acted like we weren't meant to be in a relationship."

"I'm sorry," Connor says. "I just didn't see how unreasonable I was being until recently. I know that this would have all been prevented if I had just listened to your opinion."

"It would have," I agree, nodding. "Because I knew what I was talking about there. I thought you would care about my medical opinion."

"I do," Connor tells me, earnestly. "I really do, and your treatment worked really well. I genuinely think it's a good alternative for invasive surgery. I was just too stubborn to admit that. It's not an excuse, but I know that I'm not the most open to a difference in opinion."

"No, you're really not," I say, nodding in agreement. "You should probably come in. I have a neighbour that comes out of her apartment yelling if there's too much noise late at night." I roll my eyes. "Anyway, come in. Sit down."

Connor walks into my apartment completely naturally, and sets the takeout bag and the wine down on my coffee table. "Can I sit?" he asks me, and when I nod, he sits down.

I look into his takeout bag. "You went to the takeout place that I love," I say quietly under my breath.

Connor nods, looking over at me. "I knew it was your favourite," he says. "What are you watching?" he asks me, gesturing to the muted programme on the TV.

"Some medial show series," I say, shrugging. "I don't really know, I just found it while I was looking through the channels."

"You watch medical shows?" Connor asks me. "I never knew that." He looks over at me. "Are you bringing the takeout."

I pick it up, and begin to walk over to Connor, when I suddenly stop myself. "Wait, what are you doing?" I ask him. "We don't talk for nine days, you show up at my apartment with a grand gesture and an apology, and that's it? I thought we were going to talk, work out a compromise?"