It was late in the afternoon when Jacob found Brinch again, sitting in the same spot by the window of the hospital lobby. The lobby had quieted down now, the hustle of the day giving way to a peaceful stillness. The pale light of the setting sun stretched across the floor, casting long shadows on the polished tiles. The world outside was dusted with snow, and everything seemed muted, soft—a moment suspended in time.
Brinch was there, as he had been so many times, though this time he looked different. He wasn't hunched in pain, his face a mask of exhaustion. No, this time there was a quiet calm around him, as if, for once, he wasn't carrying the weight of the world alone. And Jacob couldn't help but feel drawn to him, pulled by the same gravity that had tethered them together in the past days.
"Hey," Jacob said softly, stepping into the space beside Brinch's wheelchair, his voice steady but warm.
Brinch didn't look up right away. His gaze was distant, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest, a nervous tick that told Jacob just how much he was still battling inside. But then, slowly, Brinch met his eyes. There was something there now—something different. The hardness had softened, replaced by an openness that made Jacob's heart lurch.
"You're here again," Brinch said, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if surprised that Jacob kept returning.
Jacob smiled, leaning against the windowsill beside him. "I've got nothing else to do. But more than that... I don't really mind it. I'd rather be here with you than back in the break room listening to the same Christmas music on repeat."
Brinch gave a small, dry laugh, but there was something sincere about it. The faintest hint of relief. "I get it. Christmas is... a lot."
"Yeah." Jacob hesitated, then shifted a little closer, just enough to close the space between them. "But maybe, with the right company, it doesn't have to be that bad."
The silence between them stretched for a moment, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Instead, it was filled with something unspoken—something neither of them had dared to name yet. Jacob could feel the charge in the air, the quiet tension that always seemed to linger when they were close. His heart began to race, and he wasn't sure if it was from the proximity or from something deeper, something buried beneath the surface.
And then, with a softness that Jacob couldn't quite explain, Brinch reached out. His hand brushed against Jacob's, just lightly at first, a tentative contact, but it was enough to send a spark through Jacob's veins. He looked up, searching Brinch's face for any sign of hesitation, but what he saw there only made his pulse quicken.
Brinch was looking at him the same way—a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that made Jacob feel like they were no longer in the sterile, cold hospital lobby but in some quiet corner of the world where they could exist just as they were, without pretense.
Jacob didn't hesitate. He leaned in, closing the distance between them until their lips met, softly at first, gently, as if testing the waters. But then, as Brinch responded, the kiss deepened. It was slow, a quiet exploration, as if neither of them quite knew how to handle the rush of feeling that surged through them, but neither could pull away.
Jacob could taste the faint salt of Brinch's tears, the bitterness of something unspoken, but it wasn't a sorrow that weighed him down. It was something else—something warm, something that made him feel like he wasn't alone in this cold, fractured world.
When they finally pulled away, it was like a world had shifted. Jacob's heart was racing, his breath uneven, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They simply looked at each other, the connection between them more solid than any words could explain.
Brinch was the first to break the silence, his voice hoarse, his lips still slightly parted. "That..." he murmured, his gaze drifting to the floor for a second, "that was better than all the knee surgeries in the world."
Jacob laughed softly, the sound low and real, and he gently brushed a strand of hair from Brinch's forehead. "I'm glad you think so."
But as the weight of Brinch's next surgery loomed in the air, the moment felt bittersweet. They both knew what tomorrow held.
Before either of them could speak again, the door to the lobby opened, and Dr. Langley, the orthopedic surgeon, walked in. His usual briskness filled the room, and he immediately turned his attention to Brinch, clipboard in hand.
"Mr. Brinch, how are we feeling today?" Dr. Langley asked, his tone clinical but not unkind. "Ready for tomorrow? We'll be performing a more extensive procedure this time, so we'll need to keep you overnight for monitoring."
Brinch's face tightened, a shadow crossing his features. The kiss had been a balm, a fleeting moment of relief, but now, the reality of his situation crashed down on him. His knee surgery tomorrow wasn't going to be easy, and he was going to have a long road ahead of him.
"I'm... I'm ready," Brinch said, though his voice faltered slightly, betraying his unease. "I guess. But it's a big one, isn't it?"
Dr. Langley nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's a major procedure, yes. But we're confident it'll go smoothly. You're in good hands."
Jacob reached out, placing a hand lightly on Brinch's shoulder. Brinch looked up at him, his eyes tired but grateful, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them.
"I'll be here tomorrow," Jacob said softly, his voice steady.
Brinch gave him a small, tired smile. "Thanks, Jacob. It means a lot."
Dr. Langley clapped his hands together with an almost theatrical flair. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. We'll see you first thing in the morning, Brinch. That feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow, huh?"
Brinch smirked, the humor barely lighting up his face. "Yeah, that feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow..." He trailed off, his voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid.
As the doctor walked out, Brinch and Jacob were left in the quiet of the lobby, the snow beginning to fall outside. The silence between them felt different now, filled with the unspoken bond that had formed between them in a matter of days. It wasn't just the kiss, or the weight of the surgery ahead. It was something deeper, something real.
Jacob squeezed Brinch's shoulder once more, a silent promise that he wasn't alone. Tomorrow would come, and whatever it brought, they would face it together.
And as the clock ticked on, the day slowly slipping toward evening, Jacob couldn't help but think, That feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow.
