#andrew darling

[ballpitbee]

FINALLY FINISHED IT

[carpe-astra]

Alicia Montgomery & Andrew Darling "I wish time had better timing for you and I."

[emry-stars-art]

ghost hunter (specifically usually bfu) au??

Aaron the believer, Neil the skeptic, Andrew the main cameraman. Kevin does research probably. There's vague ideas for everyone else but mostly I laugh about Dan and Matt being the editors bc they make the funniest edits

Thank you @jtl-fics for enabling me and having great ideas as always 😂💕

[protectingstucky]

sometimes i randomly remember jean saying “your brisket lungs” to andrew motherfucking minyard and i LOSE MY SHITTTTTTT

[history-fag]

Falling to my knees over this man

[yoursinisforgiven]

EPISTLE ──

pairing: andrew x reader (darling)

cw: none (?), one extremely light sexual joke.

next part !

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

The long stretch of winter break had lulled you into a false sense of serenity. Snow piled high outside, muffling the world in a deceptive calm, while the holidays unfolded in their quiet, rhythmic way. You’d always assumed everyone else had disappeared into their own corners of rest—students, professors, staff alike, all tucked away in the reprieve from academia’s relentless grind.

It wasn’t until Andrew’s casual remark shattered that assumption that you realized just how much you’d misunderstood.

“Seriously?” you blinked at him, the disbelief in your voice thick. “What could you possibly have to do? There’s no one there.”

Andrew didn’t answer immediately. He sat across from you, his chopsticks moving rhythmically as he picked at his takeout. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glimmer in his eye that told you he’d been expecting this reaction. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally glanced up.

“Would you like to see what we do while you students are off on vacation?” His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was something behind it—a quiet weight that gave you pause.

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting some offhand joke about endless paperwork or an inside joke about staff mischief. But his expression had grown serious now, the playfulness fading as he set his chopsticks down with care.

──

The lecture hall was quiet, but the silence felt wrong. Not the peaceful kind of quiet you’d grown used to during your long hours here, but a stillness that carried the weight of something forgotten.

The room was a mess. Papers were scattered across desks, curling at the edges and yellowing in places as though they’d been left untouched for weeks. Books leaned precariously in half-formed stacks, some slumped over like they’d given up. Coffee mugs stood like forgotten relics of the past semester, their contents reduced to faint rings at the bottom of the cups. The faint scent of stale coffee and dry paper hung in the air.

Your stomach twisted as you took it all in, the chaos clashing with the pristine image of the space you’d held in your mind. This room had been a second home to you, a place of comfort, even inspiration. Seeing it like this was jarring.

“You have to clean all this?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I thought… I don’t know, I guess I just assumed everything paused during the break.”

Andrew laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “Paused? Not even close.” He gestured toward the room with a sweep of his hand. “The university doesn’t just stop because the students are gone. There’s always something happening. Papers to grade, research to process, meetings to prepare for. And then there’s this…” His eyes swept over the mess.

You frowned, your gaze following his. “This doesn’t happen on its own, though,” you said slowly, your voice tinged with suspicion. “What even is all this?”

Andrew smiled, amused by your confusion. “During the holidays, the university rents out spaces for events—holiday parties, conferences, you name it. They pay well, but…” He trailed off, his smile fading as his gaze darkened. “They don’t exactly leave things the way they found them.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re telling me someone threw a party in here?”

Andrew nodded, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “Not just here. Across campus. Lecture halls, libraries, even some of the labs. It’s a way to bring in revenue during the break, but it leaves a lot of work for us.”

You turned back to the mess, a new layer of disbelief settling over you. It wasn’t just the clutter—it was the sense that this place, your place, had been used and abandoned without care.

“Feel like helping?” Andrew’s voice pulled you back to the moment. There was a playful edge to his words, but his expression was tired. “It’s not just picking up papers. There’s a whole system to this. I might even let you skip the worst parts. The emails,” he added with a smirk, “are a killer.”

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “I don’t think I’m qualified for this kind of work.”

Andrew chuckled, leaning back against the podium with a knowing look. “Oh, trust me, no one is. But it gets done anyway.”

As you crossed the room to the seat you’d claimed as yours months ago—unofficially, but always yours—you froze. The desk was piled with papers, loose leaf sheets crumpled as though someone had rifled through them in haste. A half-empty water bottle teetered on the edge, and crumbs were scattered across the surface.

Your brows knit together. You would never have left it like this.

“You’re sure this was a party?” you asked, half-joking, half-appalled.

Andrew grinned, his tone light as he replied, “It wasn’t my party, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You sighed, brushing crumbs from the desk and shaking your head. “Somehow, I can’t see this as part of the holiday spirit.”

“Welcome to the reality of university breaks,” Andrew said, his tone dry but not unkind. “It’s not all snowflakes and hot cocoa.”

You glanced at him, his easy stance and that ever-present glimmer of amusement in his eyes. There was a warmth to him, a steadiness that grounded the chaos around you.

And despite yourself, you felt the corners of your mouth twitch upward. “Alright,” you said, brushing off your seat. “Show me what needs to be done. But I’m not touching the emails.”

Andrew laughed, the sound resonating through the empty hall. “Deal.”

──

You groan as you collapse into the chair at Andrew’s desk, the trash bag resting limply at your feet. It’s light—filled mostly with loose, crumpled papers in a kaleidoscope of colors that someone clearly thought too unimportant to bother recycling properly. You let your head fall back against the chair, your eyes drifting to where Andrew stands at the chalkboard behind you.

The rhythmic sound of the eraser against the board fills the quiet space, and you find yourself watching him for a moment. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted with faint streaks of white chalk. There’s a focused set to his jaw, his brows slightly furrowed as he works to clear the board.

Your gaze flickers to the chalkboard itself, the surface marred with half-erased notes and what looks like a hurriedly sketched diagram. You tilt your head. Why did he even need a chalkboard? He was a literature professor, not a mathematician or scientist. And even if he had a reason, why use chalk instead of a whiteboard?

“Rock, paper, scissors for who sweeps the floor?” you call out, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Andrew pauses mid-swipe, his head turning toward you with a raised brow. You catch the faintest smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth before he sets the erasers down. Without a word, he crosses the room to you in a few measured strides, his presence warm and steady.

Before you can tease him further, he leans down, cupping the side of your face and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, love,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve worked hard.”

The simple gesture catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget the mess around you. His lips are warm against your skin, and you can feel the faint grit of chalk dust on his fingers as they brush your temple.

You smile, leaning into the touch despite yourself. “Hard enough to earn a pass on sweeping?” you ask, your voice light but hopeful.

Andrew chuckles, the sound deep and rich, as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “Hard enough to earn a pass on everything,” he says, his tone teasing but sincere.

You snort, shaking your head as you gesture toward the trash bag at your feet. “I think we both know I’ve got at least one more round in me.”

He clears his throat and straightens—you chuckle lightly to yourself, glad you got another reaction out of him—his hands slipping into his pockets as he surveys the room with a thoughtful expression. The lecture hall is still far from clean—papers litter the floors, chairs are out of place, and there’s a faint sheen of dust on nearly every surface.

“Well, if you insist,” he says, his lips quirking into a grin, “how about I handle the floors and you tackle the desk?”

Your eyes narrow, and you cross your arms over your chest. “How is that fair? I’ve already been hauling around the trash bag.”

Andrew shrugs, the grin never leaving his face. “Because you’re far better at organizing than I am.” A tease, perhaps some sort of reverse psychology to make you cave.

With a resigned sigh, you lean forward and begin sorting through the papers on the desk in front of you, piling them into rough categories: keep, recycle, and the ever-growing stack of “Andrew’s problem.”

Andrew, true to his word, grabs the broom from the corner and starts sweeping. You glance up occasionally, watching as he moves with an easy grace, his focus intent on the task at hand.

The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the soft scrape of the broom against the floor and the occasional rustle of papers. It’s not exactly how you’d imagined spending your evening, but there’s something oddly intimate about the moment—the two of you working side by side to bring a semblance of order back to this chaotic space.

And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of other people’s chaos, you feel lucky too.

──

After sorting through the last of the papers at Andrew’s desk, you stretch, your back aching from the hours spent hunched over. You glance back at your usual seat across the room, the thought of finally sitting down tugging you forward. But as you near the cluster of chairs, something catches your eye—a stray piece of paper lying just beneath one of the seats.

You groan audibly, rolling your eyes. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy to finish. You crouch down to grab it, already dreading having to untie the trash bag just to shove this one piece inside. But as you flip the paper over, something stops you.

It’s not a blank sheet or a forgotten syllabus. It’s filled with words, the handwriting neat but slightly hurried, as though the writer had poured their thoughts onto the page in one continuous stream. Your eyes skim over the lines, curiosity getting the better of you. Someone’s notes? An essay draft?

But as you read further, your stomach twists. This isn’t an essay or lecture notes—it’s a love letter.

You glance down at the bottom of the page, expecting to see a signature, but there’s no name. No identifying mark. Had it been unfinished? Or had the writer deliberately chosen to remain anonymous?

Your eyes flicker to the top of the page, where the words Dear Kayson are scrawled in bold, deliberate letters.

“Kayson,” you murmur aloud, your brow furrowing. The name feels familiar, like something on the edge of your memory, but you can’t put a face to it.

Without thinking, you rise and turn toward Andrew, clutching the letter in your hand. He’s across the room now, sweeping near the chalkboard, his focus intent on the floor.

“Andrew,” you call out, your voice breaking the quiet.

He looks up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, his expression curious as you approach.

“Does a ‘Kayson’ take one of your classes?” you ask, holding up the paper as though it’ll somehow explain itself.

Andrew’s brows knit together as he leans against the broom, his gaze flickering to the letter in your hand. “Kayson…” he repeats slowly, his tone thoughtful. “Kayson Whitfield. He’s in my Modern Literature seminar, apart of the school’s volleyball team as well.”

Your stomach twists again. “Modern Lit,” you echo, glancing down at the letter. The words blur slightly as you skim over them again, your mind racing.

Andrew’s voice pulls you back to the moment. “Why? What’s that?” He nods toward the paper, his expression equal parts amused and intrigued.

You shake your head with a faint smile, carefully folding the letter in half before sliding it into your pocket. The paper feels delicate, almost fragile, as though the emotions it holds might spill out if you’re not careful. You glance at Andrew, who’s watching you with his trademark mix of curiosity and quiet amusement.

“Don’t worry,” you say, your tone light but laced with something deeper. “Just know you’ll be seeing me again in Modern Literature.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “Oh? Planning on crashing one of my classes now?”

“Not crashing,” you reply with a smirk. “Just… auditing. Consider it research.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans back against the desk, arms crossing over his chest. The soft light of the lecture hall catches on the faint streaks of chalk dust on his shirt, and for a moment, the world feels smaller, quieter—like it’s just the two of you in this little bubble of time.

──

author’s note: writing for andrew is so unbelievably difficult, i like how this came out though.

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 1 (FINISHED SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 8,390 words (I am so sorry for how long the first chapter is).

Chapters: Current chapter, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

         “Can you say ‘aaaaaah?’” (Y/N) drawled out.

        Her patient, little eight-year-old Lou, opened his mouth widely like a lion and ‘aaaaaah’ed for her as she shined her mediscope light down into his throat, checking his tonsils, uvula, throat's lining, gums, and tongue.

        “Mmm, I see. You can close your mouth now. Good job, Lou!” she cheered as the kid beamed. “He has enlarged tonsils. Do you hear him snore at night?” she questioned, turning her attention to the concerned mother.

        “He snores so loud he’s woken us up from across the house.” His mother sighed. “Is that bad?”

        “Does he have problems focusing in school because he’s tired. Taking naps that are over an hour multiple times a week?” (Y/N) asked.

        “Yes. His teacher complained just last week about him sleeping in class during a spelling test.” Lou's mother confirmed.

        “I see. Lou, do you have any problems sleeping? Like do you wake up multiple times a night?” (Y/N) questioned, looking over towards the small boy.

        “Maybe once or twice a night…” Lou muttered as he thought to himself.

        “And does your throat hurt when you wake up?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Sometimes.” He responded.

        “How often do you get sick?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Honestly, we’ve lost count. This past year he’s been sick at least three times.” His mother admitted.

        “And it’s June. I see.” (Y/N) nodded, grabbing her clipboard of papers and a pen. “Lou is experiencing obstructive sleep apnea due to his enlarged tonsils affecting his sleep, which is affecting his daytime behavior and is the cause of why he gets sick so often. I do recommend surgery to remove them. I’ll write down some children hospitals near your area that specialize in pediatric surgery, that way we can get the right surgeon for the job.” She explained, writing down hospitals, where they’re located, and doctor names specializing in tonsil-study.

        “Does this all sound about right, Doctor Ryan?” she questioned, turning her attention to the corner of the room where the doctor and her instructor stood, observing her performance. 

        “Absolutely phenomenal. You got everything right.” He praised, giving her a teethy smile that belonged on a Colgate commercial while a bubble of pride formed in her chest at his praise.

        “Oh thank you, Ms (L/N)!” Lou’s mother smiled as she clutched her hands together.

        “No worries. Here you go.” (Y/N) spoke, handing Lou's mother the papers. “Check out will be on your right when you walk out. There will be some ring pops too, go get yourself a reward for behaving so good today, Lou.” (Y/N) smiled as she rummaged through her cabinet for a sticker.

        She found one and handed it to Lou's open hand. 

        “You were my star patient today, bud! I’ll see you in a few weeks for your next check-up.” (Y/N) smiled.

        “Thank you again.” Lou’s mother smiled as she held Lou’s hand. "What do we say, Lou?"

        “Thank you! Bye bye!” Lou cheered.

        “Fantastic work today. We have one more patient before you can head out, okay?” Doctor Ryan spoke.

        “Yes, sir!” (Y/N) smiled, excited of who she'd be working with next.

        She loved kids and she loved helping them. It made her happy to be able to care for them and help them on their recovery to healthiness and happiness, hence why she's studying to become a pediatrician.

        “They’re a bit on the older side, but we’re really short-staffed at the moment so I need you to take care of them.” Doctor Ryan explained.

        “How old?” she questioned, noticing they were leaving the hospital’s pediatric branch and going to the elevators.

        They both entered the elevator and Doctor Ryan pressed the 4th floor button. The doors closed as (Y/N) held the handle, feeling a little nauseous at being in a closed space with a man. She doesn't mind Doctor Ryan, but she doesn't like being trapped in uncomfortable proximity with a male—just a fear that was installed into her when she was young. Th elevator moved up two floors before the ride finally ended.

        “Well… they’re twenty-two.” The doctor sheepishly smiled.

        “Sir, I’m training to be a pediatrician, not a regular nurse.” (Y/N) stated firmly as the elevator doors opened, allowing them to walk out into the psychiatric branch of the hospital (must to her relief). 

        “Yes, but like I said, we’re short staffed. We just need to you re-evaluate his wounds and do a check-up on his physical health. He’s on suicide watch.” Doctor Ryan explained.

        She opened her mouth to complain before hearing his last words.

        Damn it, suicide watch? I don’t want them dying on my watch. Not only that, but I have experience in that field so I’m decent help for it. She thought. 

        “I… Yes, sir. I’ll get him checked out.” (Y/N) sighed, caving in.

        "Thank you! You know it's been with the shortages of nurses and all, especially for the psychiatric branch." Doctor Ryan sighed out, in relief rather than reluctant-acceptance that (Y/N) did.

        "I understand..." She sighed again.

        Yes, I understand that the psychiatric branch is full of unstable patients with crazy-strength if set off. How do they expect me to hold up on my own against a fight with these guys? (Y/N) thought to herself.

        They walked to the branch's help desk, scurrying through papers before Doctor Ryan made a noise of acknowledgment.

        "Ah-ha! Here you go." He smiled, giving the paper packet to (Y/N).

        (Y/N) grabbed a chair with wheels and moved it behind her, sitting down and reading the information. 

        "Like I said, just quickly re-evaluate his wounds and do a check up on his physical health. If he has any information on why he tried to commit suicide, write it down. It can help us with finding a therapist or at least a hotline for him. I'll go and write a report for Lou's visit, get that off your plate." Doctor Ryan explained, turning and walking away. "It's sad how young these kids are when they think all hope is lost..." he sighed.

        Twenty-two? That's a pretty normal age for suicide. Try eleven, Doc. (Y/N) thought sarcastically. Well, no time to mope about. Let's get this over with and hope for the best. (Y/N) thought, dreading the interaction.

        She wanted to be a pediatrician not only because she liked kids, but because they were much easier than adults. Adults live in a world where they're made to believe their pain is insignificant because elders and children are much more vulnerable to pain and suffering, so adults constantly fight their pain and hide it from others. Adults hide their pain to avoid pity, to avoid the expensive medical bill they don't want to pay. (Y/N)'s morals may be questionable, but if there's anything she believes as a nurse and upcoming-pediatrician, it's that you can't put a price on life. Kids have no shame telling someone if they're in pain, adults act as if they're dishonoring their family's reputation and pride if they tell someone they have a cough.

        Not only that, but she doesn't want to work with adult men. It's been proven that some perverted adult men cause injuries to themselves so they can be in the care of gentle women, who they take overpower and advantage of. Of course, women can do the exact same thing too, but it's more prevalent with males. (Y/N) hates working with adults because she doesn't want to be apart of their sexual fetishes or apart of the statistics.

        (Y/N) read through her patient's information, gathering the details she needs to access the situation:

Patient: Andrew Graves, 22. Room 402. Reason for admission: Jumped from a third-story building and ended up landing on his legs. By miracle, no injury to spine other than minor bruises. Both legs and ankles are shattered, needs multiple surgeries. Stitches on ankles, change bandages every 4-8 hours. Minor concussion and possible amnesia.  Precautions: Patient isn't very cooperative. Use restraints if necessary. Has a sister that is extremely uncooperative and violent, has threatened other nurses. Use extreme caution with patient and sister to prevent any pain or stress that would worsen patient's condition. 

        (Y/N) put the paper packet down on the desk and sighed, shoving her hands into her face and groaning.

        Of course! Not only an unruly patient, but an unruly visitor too? God, if you're real, is this your way of telling me it was a mistake being a pediatrician? (Y/N) thought to herself. Let's just get this damn thing over with, after this, I can go home and rest.

        She walked to a medical supply closet in the staff room and took some bandages and anti-septic cream, along with checking to make sure her stethoscope and mediscope was all there. She grabbed two water bottles from the mini fridge and shoved it into her bag along with two mini-bags of pretzels from the snack cabinet. 

        She shut the staff room's door and locked it, shoving her key and lanyard under her lilac purple nursing scrubs in case some pocket-picker (or someone stupid enough) tries to steal her key. She made sure her bag's strap was secure against her firmly and walked towards room 402.

        (Y/N) stopped at the patient's door to collect her breath. She heard voices inside, only dreading the next few minutes once she realized how angry the voices sounded.

        "Damn it, Andrew! You just had to fuck shit up like you do with everything else, huh?" a girl's voice rang through the room.

        "Isn't this what you wanted? You make no sense..." a boy's voice, Andrew perhaps, sighed.

        "I didn't expect you to take me seriously, dumbass! What if you actually died? You'd leave me all alone to deal with the shit you caused!" the girl shouted.

        "Keep your voice down! And the shit I caused? You're the one that started it all! If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be on the run!" Andrew hissed.

        "Oh, so eating the neighbor was my decision? Is that what you're saying! No, you're the one that fucking said it!" the girl exclaimed.

        "You implied it!" Andrew retorted.

        "I did nothing! But even then, we would've starved in that damn apartment! Is that what you wanted? And you're the one that killed the warden, then the damn lady!" the girl claimed.

        "Hey, the lady was self-defense and you're the one that made me kill the hitman! I killed the warden because you got caught! We would've both been fucked at that point!" Andrew reasoned.

        "WE ARE FUCKED!" the girl screamed.

        "Ashley! Calm down!" Andrew spoke, raising his tone.

        "ME CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I BE CALM AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" the girl, Ashley screamed, sounding crazy enough to potentially be pulling her hair out.

        "Well you're going to have to! Someone might discover we're on the run!" Andrew hissed through his teeth.        

        "Don't you realize, stupid?! If you died, you would've left me all alone in this shitty world. I can't live without you, Andy..." Ashley muttered.

        "My name isn't Andy, Andy is dead. It's Andrew." Andrew stated firmly.

        "Fuck you, Andrew! I hate Andrew! I want Andy back! At least Andy still liked me!" Ashley shouted, her tone sounded like she was close to breaking down in tears.

        "Ashley, come on... We've gone over this. I like you." Andrew sighed.

        "Yeah right! You tried sleeping with that lady at the apartment complex!" Ashley accused.

        "Damn it, Ashley! I already told you, she tried to kill me so I killed her! What part of that involves sex?" Andrew hissed.

        "I don't want to hear it, you bastard! The second you get a girlfriend, I become invisible to you!" Ashley complained.

        "As if! I was always ditching Julia for you! Even then, you fucking convinced her into breaking up with me!" Andrew huffed.

        "I was weeding out the whores that sprout their legs open! She doesn't deserve someone like you, Andy!" Ashley shouted, then took a deep breath. "I'm your sister, Andy. I know what's best for you! I know who's best for you! She wasn't shit!"

         "You're stressing me out, Ashley..." Andrew groaned, his voice muffled (presumably shoving his face into his hands). "I don't want to talk about this... I don't even know how we got on this topic but just shut up about it... We'll leave as soon as I heal up some." 

        "That'll take too long. We can leave now!" Ashley whined.

        "And what? You want me to run on two broken legs? Are you going to carry me?" Andrew spoke, verbally knocking some sense into her. 

        "I-I'll find a damn wheelchair! We'll put you on a wheelchair and run." Ashley spoke, suddenly not sounding as confident and aggressive as she was previously. 

        "Run where? There's no where we can go! Mom doesn't want us and we can't just live on the streets forever. This is a good opportunity for us to rest here and think about our next move." Andrew explained.

        "Says you. You get a nice bed and food provided to you while I'll be stuck outside, cold and alone while I rot away outside." Ashley snapped, exaggerating her voice on the last bit.

        "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You have a way with getting what you want." Andrew huffed.

        "Not all the time..." Ashley muttered. "I still think we should take a wheelchair and-"

        "Leave, Ashley. Visiting time is over." Andrew spoke firmly.

        "But-" Ashley started, but was cut off.

        "No buts, Ashley. Leave... You're just making me feel worse..." Andrew sighed in frustration.

        Good, stand your ground against her. I don't know their full story, but Ashley sounds really manipulative to me, but Andrew definitely doesn't sound like a victim either... (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        "Fine, I'll leave and I'll never come back! You can't live without me, Andy!" Ashley shouted before walking towards the door.

        Sounds like a threat... (Y/N) thought. 

        Damn it, she's infuriating. As expected of her though... Andrew thought to himself.

        (Y/N) realized that Ashley was coming her way. She didn't want to seem nosey so she quickly ran to an open hospital room, making sure to redirect her weight to her legs so her footsteps wouldn't make noise in case it alerted Ashley. She heard Andrew's door open before slamming close, then footsteps walking past the room (Y/N) was in.

        (Y/N) held close to the wall where the door was, hiding herself in case Ashley peeked into the room on her way out. (Y/N) waited a minute after the footsteps vanished, just to be sure that Ashley wasn't on her way back. She walked back to the door before stopping, realizing what the siblings revealed to her.

        They're murderers. Not only that, but cannibals too. They both confessed. I have to be careful about this guy, two broken legs or none, he's dangerous. (Y/N) thought to herself, then held her fist up to the door.

        She gently knocked three times, then opened the door, not caring for a response back. She saw Andrew staring out of the hospital's window (one without bars, (Y/N) believes that's a stupid decision since this is a known suicidal branch on the fourth floor). His reflection showed his eyes closed, his eyebrows pinched in frustration.

        "I said leave, Ash—" Andrew's head turned to look at the nurse and his eyes only hardened, as if seeming more mad at the nurse than at Ashley who ran off.

        Watch it, buddy. I can make your death look like an accident... (Y/N) thought inside of her head, only proving her dislike of caring for adults.

        "Expecting someone else?" (Y/N) spoke, forcing a polite smile on her face. 

        I'd rather not have to try and fight him into restraining him against the bed. She thought. 

        Andrew stayed quiet as he glared at her.

        The previous nurses that entered his room weren't very kind to him, they were old and seemed annoyed to care for their patients. They got an earful from Ashley. Not only that, but they sure were rough with re-doing his bandages, sloppy too. He didn't want to deal with anyone else today, he just wants to go to sleep.

        Maybe a permanent sleep like jumping out of this window... At least I wouldn't hear Ashley complain so much. Andrew thought to himself.

        To be honest, Andrew doesn't exactly remember much. For some reason, he only has memory of the past three months and that's it. All of his memories consisted of being locked in an apartment with little food, to no food, for three months with Ashley, rotting away. Then Ashley had the bright idea to eat the neighbor after breaking into his apartment and seeing him fail a seance to a... demon? As crazy as that sounds.

        Well, she didn't exactly say it, but she placed the thought into Andrew's head then forced Andrew to say it to make it seem like it was his idea. Then she started chopping the neighbor up to eat him, then the warden came and Ashley got caught, which resorted in Andrew having to kill the warden so the warden wouldn't contact any other wardens with his walkie-talkie. Ashley had the bright idea to escape the apartment complex by completing the seance and offering live human. Andrew eventually agreed to it.

        Then they ran from the place and ended up in a lady's apartment. Turns out she whored herself to get food from the wardens, so they used her to escape. While Ashley left to do the seance, Andrew had to hold her hostage so she wouldn't try to call for help from the wardens. He made the mistake of taking his clever away from her neck and letting go of her, but she got ballsy and tried to kill him with a nail gun, resulting in Andrew killing her. Then Ashley came back and started to freak out, saying that Andrew was trying to get in the girls pants (however she came up with that conclusion, Andrew is unsure). 

        They completed the seance by sacrificing a warden and escaped the apartment complex, finding themselves on the run as wanted felons. It was then when Ashley and Andrew got in a fight and Ashley told Andrew to kill himself, to make it easy for her and the police. Andrew was fed up of running and listening to his sister's idiotic (and borderline psychotic) ideas that he actually did jump (to which Ashley brought him here instead of just letting him bleed out, much to his dismay). 

        But before all of those events, everything else is blurry. He has no recollection of himself or his family after all the horrid memories trapped in his head.

        (Y/N) felt a little unsettled under his very judgmental gaze, remembering that he confessed to killing at least two people (possibly even more).

        Is he sizing me up to be his next victim? (Y/N) briefly thought before pushing that thought away. No, he said that they would've starved in their... apartment? What did they mean by that? 

        As much as she wanted to find out, she didn't really feel like wanting to die either. Her college debt would go to her family, and it'd be too bothersome to die. Too much time wasting on dying (she'd be too impatient to die slowly). 

        “I’m a student studying nursing, please call me (Y/N) despite the name tag.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        I'd rather not tell him I'm studying pediatric nursing. I don't want him freaking out or anything since I'm technically out of my field. She thought.

        “They couldn’t bring a real nurse or doctor?” Andrew huffed.

        Great, if she makes any mistakes, he might have to stay here longer than necessary, and Andrew does not want that.

        “Unfortunately, we’re short-staffed at the moment. No one here likes working the night shift.” (Y/N) sighed. “But, luckily for you, I happen to be a very good student. I even dare to say better than some of the other nurses here.” (Y/N) joked, a smile on her face to try and brighten up the murderous aura surrounding Andrew.

        Andrew stared at her in silence, unamused.

        “Tough crowd…” She muttered. “Alright, let’s get this over with first.” (Y/N) spoke, walking closer to Andrew (whose guard only raised even more at this). “How many fingers am I holding up?” she questioned, holding up two fingers.

        “Four.” Andrew huffed, crossing his arms.

        “And now?” she questioned, holding up one.

        “Two.” Andrew answered.

        “Last time.” She commented, holding up two fingers again.

        “Four.” Andrew spoke.

        “Okay, are you thirsty right now?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “I guess…” Andrew muttered.

        “Here.” (Y/N) spoke, digging into her medical bag and grabbing the bottle of water she shoved in there from earlier. “Hungry too?”

        “No.” Andrew answered, resulting in her placing a bag of pretzels and water on his nightstand.

        “They're for later. It’s important not to have them now even though you’re thirsty. Just trust me.” She spoke before continuing her little survey. “Feel any pain anywhere?”

        “My legs.” Andrew spoke, pointing out the obvious in a ‘duh’ tone.

        “Other than there?” (Y/N) added. “Such as a headache? Behind the eyes?” 

        “Both.” Andrew answered.

        “Have you vomited? Do you feel nauseous at the moment?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Haven’t thrown up, but I feel sick” Andrew admitted.        

        “Have you or your sister noticed any gaps in your memory? From today to a few months or even more?” (Y/N) asked.

        “Yeah, actually…” Andrew muttered.

        (Y/N) took a few steps towards him, basically hovering over him.

        “What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, but didn’t pull away or shrink from her.

        “Calm down. Are your hands clammy?” she questioned.

        “A little...” Andrew muttered, not breaking eye contact from her.

        She broke the eye contact as her eyes swept through his face, looking at his disheveled black hair and electric green eyes, a beautiful combination, she noted. She also noted how pale his skin was along with the sweat running down it.

        “Andrew, open your eyes wide for me, please.” She spoke, reaching into her bag and pulling out a mediscope.

        Andrew complied with a little bit of hesitancy, allowing her to watch as his pupils shrunk from the light. She looked closely at his retinas to make sure there was no tear along with the hydration in his eyes. They did seem a little blurry, she noted.

        “Open your mouth, please.” She requested.

        Andrew sighed but listened as she did. She checked his tonsils, throat lining, tongue coloring, gums, and uvula. 

        He felt awkward having her do all these procedures and asking all these questions, whether it was her job or not. He wouldn’t deny it, she was pretty, prettier the woman at the apartment complex he murdered.

        Wow, nice thinking… Andrew internally scolded himself as he looked away from the girl. Comparing your nurse to a dead girl you killed really isn't a sign of insanity or detachment.

        At least he was self-aware?

        “And real quick, let me look inside your ears, please.” She requested.

        Andrew stood still as she shined the light in his ear, checking through the tiny camera to see if there was any ear infection or something out of the ordinary. Nothing.

        “Last thing.” She spoke, placing her mediscope in her bag and switching it for her stethoscope. 

        “Can I ask why you’re doing this? All these questions and procedures?” Andrew questioned, adverting his eyes from her as she started listening to his heart.

        There was a moment of silence as she focused, looking at her watch as she listened to his pulse.

        It's 102 beats per minute, a bit quick for his age, but it's not too worrying and it can be easily caused by the stress and trauma of his situation, she noted. 

        “Are you telling me the other nurses didn’t do all of this to you?” (Y/N) asked as she responded his question from earlier surprised and a little concerned.

        “Nope.” Andrew replied lazily. 

        “Ugh… elders.” (Y/N) muttered quietly, earning a small smile from Andrew (one he quickly hid with a cough as he adverted her gaze). “They’re supposed to check you for any possible illnesses or worsen conditions. I know you came in here because you jumped a three-story building, but it can be linked to serious health concerns. You can develop future problems we can identify and fix right now if we take the time to look.” She explained.

        “So what did you discover, doc?” Andrew questioned in a monochrome tone (she wasn’t exactly sure if he was making a joke or being serious or even sarcastic).

        “Well, you have internal bleeding.” (Y/N) spoke, not bothering to even try to sugarcoat it or break it to him lightly.

        “What? How bad?” Andrew grimaced, afraid of the reaction Ashley would give when she hears this. 

        “How much blood did you lose when you fell? Were you conscious when you hit the ground?” (Y/N) questioned. 

        “I mean, I was conscious till I hit the ground. After a couple of minutes I woke up and was in pain, understandably so, until my sister dragged me to a hospital. So I was probably out for five maybe ten minutes.” Andrew explained. 

        That’s not good, along with all the other symptoms he’s experiencing. She thought to herself.

        “How about this. On a scale of 1-10, how much blood did you think you lost?” (Y/N) rephrased.

        “Seven, maybe eight.” Andrew huffed. “I don’t really know.” 

        “No worries. It’s not a big deal. They said you shattered the bones in your legs so you’re going to need surgery for it. Luckily they were able to reposition and place back your ankles.” I explained. “You’ll be bedridden in the hospital for a couple days, then you're going home and being bedridden for six months, minimum.” (Y/N) emphasized the last word to show the most importance to it. 

        “Fuck... What about the internal bleeding?” Andrew sighed, dreading the lecture Ashley would give him.

        "For your severity, you'd need surgery. It'd take a couple weeks for you to heal, but your internal bleeding should be healed by the time you're discharged." (Y/N) explained. “Now, bear with me for a second. I’m going to level your legs and it’s going to hurt.” She spoke as she walked to the tall hospital cabinets, taking three soft and limbless pillows from it.

        “Ugh…” Andrew groaned, already dreading that part as she walked back to him.

        “Take a deep breath.” She instructed.

        She waited for Andrew to audibly breathe in. He did what she requested, his chest and shoulders rising (he ignored the shock of pain that came with it, but she noticed and figured it was due to the internal bleeding).

        “Hold it in.” She spoke, then lifted his heavily bandaged legs with one hand (with a bit of struggle) and placed the pillows under him.

        She gently rested his legs onto the pillows and looked at Andrew face, seeing his eyebrows furrowed and his fists clenches tightly.

        “Breathe, darling. You’re all done.” (Y/N) instructed, letting out a deep breath for him to mimic too in case the pain was too much.

        Andrew let go of his breath, regaining control of his lungs after a few manual breaths. 

        “You did so well, my star! Do you want a sticker?” (Y/N) questioned.

        Andrew adverted his eyes from her smile, his face red from what he wants to be because of holding his breath, but it was instead caused by her praise and pet names (or maybe both).

        “No…?” Andrew muttered.

        “Mm. What color do you want? Gold, pink, blue, red, purple, or gray?” she questioned.

        “Why do you have a gray star?” he questioned.

        “Good choice!” (Y/N) spoke, rummaging through her bag for her stickers. 

        She found them and searched for a gray star, finding one and undoing the paper back. She sticked it on Andrew’s chest, clothed with the blue hospital gown. 

        “Tah-dah! You were my star patient today!” (Y/N) beamed. 

        “Are you done?” Andrew sighed dully, adverting his eyes to hide his blush.

        “Nope! I have to redo your bandages. This’ll also hurt, but I’ll be gentle with you.” (Y/N) explained.

        “Hurry up.” Andrew huffed. 

        “So soon to have me leave, huh?” she sighed jokingly. “Hurts my heart.” 

        She reached into her bag and grabbed bandages, gauze, and anti-septic cream. 

        “So, Andrew. Kinda curious, what made you jump?” (Y/N) questioned, remembering her superior's words as she started undoing Andrew’s bandages on his legs.

        “Why would you need to know that?” Andrew growled, becoming defensive.

        Ah, I pissed him off. But this is important information for his health, murderer or not. (Y/N) thought to herself.

        “You know, I tried killing myself too. I was eleven. Failed multiple times. But you had the courage to jump. I didn’t do that.” She explained.

        “How’d you try?” Andrew questioned, a spark of curiosity in him.

        “I’m not giving you any ideas, mister.” (Y/N) laughed, giving him a playful yet stern expression before switching her gaze to study the stitching on his ankles. “But, I gave up and made an oath to never harm myself in that way again because it really affects the people you care about. Your sister was probably very sad when you jumped.” 

        At least the surgeons did that good, so no worries there. Luckily the swelling is just from the breakage and replacement of bones, so his stitches aren’t infected. She thought to herself. But let’s add anti-septic cream just to be safe.

        "How long ago was that?" Andrew questioned, ignoring her comment about his sister.

        "Ten years ago." She hummed.

        She must be around the same age as me. Andrew thought.

        “Did it get better?” Andrew questioned as (Y/N) applied the cold cream onto his wounds.

        The temperature of the medicine barely even got a reaction from Andrew since he was so focused on the conversation they were having. 

        “At the beginning? Of course not, in fact it spiraled downhill from there. Overtime I started picking myself up and it helped. It helps to surround yourself with people who cared about you. And if you have no one who cares, then learn to care for yourself. Your confidence in yourself will attract others to you.” (Y/N) explained. "We humans need to be there for each other, you know? We're social creatures after all."

        “Hm.” Andrew hummed in acknowledgement, not really paying attention to her optimistic speech.        

        It's not like he had anyone to turn to. He remembers his girlfriend breaking up with him on the phone while he was rotting away in his apartment. Ashley had verbally abused her enough that she didn't want to see him or Ashley anymore. He doesn't have any other family than his parents who rejected him because "he and Ashley were too close and had to learn independence" his mother said on the phone during their last phone calls in quarantine. He's not exactly sure what she meant by it (especially with his memory gone), but so far all Ashley's done is pissed him off these past months he's remembered, so he really doesn't want to see her again anytime soon. He doesn't remember if he has friends or not either.

        “Andrew, what do you like to do? What do you do in your free time?” (Y/N) questioned.

        Andrew thought about her question. The three months that he remembers, all he did was sleep, starve, and watch TV (all with Ashley). He read books from his parents room out of boredom before losing the energy to even try and keep acting like he was actually remembering the plot—it took too much energy remembering the events that happened in the book. 

        When Ashley and Andrew did talk to each other during the time, it was to bicker and complain to each other about food and the other’s company (Ashley always started it).

        “I don’t have any… None that I remember at least.” Andrew admitted.

        “Don’t stress it. Your concussion could be affecting your ability to remember. We’ll find some new hobbies for you.” (Y/N) reassured. “Maybe books, card games, video games? I’ll find something.” She spoke as she redid the bandages on his ankles.

        “Why are you even bothering?” Andrew sighed. “After some months I’ll be gone.” He pointed out.

        “Yeah, but I wouldn’t want you to be bored the entire time. Personally, I would hate being bedridden with nothing to do.” (Y/N) admitted.

        What a sympathetic girl... Andrew thought.

        “Whatever…” Andrew muttered, crossing his arms. 

        “Voilà! Whaddya think?” she questioned.

        “It’s tight…” Andrew admitted, it didn't hurt much, but it did feel a bit annoying.

        “That’s to keep your ankles in place. Your bandages aren’t bleeding much, so you should be ready for casting. I’ll leave a note for that.” She explained. “Any requests before I go?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “You’re leaving?” Andrew questioned, sitting up and straightening his back before cringing at the pain shooting up his legs (and the pathetic tone in his voice).

        “Yeah, my shifts almost over...” She paused and checked her watch. “It’s actually been over for 20 minutes now.” 

        Andrew muttered something under his breath, adverting his eyes as he looked away from her.

        “You’re coming back tomorrow, right?” Andrew questioned.

        “Ah… I don’t know. I don’t work in this branch, I work with kids in the pediatric branch.” (Y/N) smiled nervously.

        I hope I’m not upsetting him. She thought to herself.

        She tolerated Andrew’s company, for a man of course. It was surprisingly refreshing and the atmosphere is much more comfortable than it was when she first entered.

        Andrew huffed, looking back at her.

        “I like you better than the other nurses.” He admitted, crossing his arms and looking away again so she wouldn’t notice his red face.

        “Aw. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Penelope tomorrow, she’s a wonderful nurse!” (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll make sure to visit you tomorrow before I leave work and check in on you, make sure you’re still intact and dandy, okay?” she smiled.

        It’s like I’m making a promise to a child. She thought to herself. 

        Her thoughts were backed up by the spark in his eyes as he looked back at the nurse.

        “Okay…” he muttered, pushing down the urge to smile.

        “I’ll see you later, star!” she smiled, referring to his sticker on his chest. “Door open or closed?” she questioned.

        “Closed.” Andrew answered.

        “Alrighty! Click the button on the side of your bed if you need a nurse or need to ask something. In an hour you can drink a little bit of the water, but hold off on the pretzels until tomorrow. Make sure you get good sleep! Body’s natural way of healing.” She explained, flashing him a smile. “Goodnight, Andrew.” 

        She closed the door and took a silent breath in.

        That went surprisingly well… She thought to herself.

        She walked back to the staff room and unlocked the door, opening it to find Ruby, an old and stern nurse who worked day shift.

        “You’re clocking out late.” Ruby gruffed. “Heard they were understaffed tonight.”

        “Ah, yes. I had to go to patient 402’s room.” She smiled politely despite it being very draining to.

        It's hard acting so happy all the time with her patients and coworkers. She liked work, but her face wasn't friendly, so she had to resort to smiling a lot (as annoying as it was for her).

        “The moody patient with the psycho sister? How’d that go?” Ruby questioned.

        “How did you know?” (Y/N) questioned, sparing her a glance.

        Ruby’s day shift, so she comes in at 7 am and leaves at 7 PM. How would she knows about Andrew? she thought to herself.

        “Penelope was in near tears when she clocked out. Told me how closed off the boy was and the sister was screaming and yelling at Penelope, talking about how she’s trying to steal her brother away from her—something like that…” Ruby muttered the last part to herself.

        Psycho sister indeed. (Y/N) thought to herself.

        “The girl wasn’t in there when I entered. The boy is reserved at first, but if you keep talking to him he’ll respond. Just be patient.” She spoke, shoving her leftover medical supplies into the supply closet.

        “I swear, Penelope gets too butt-hurt about these patients. And I don’t understand how you can deal with those kids, snotty and crying all the time.” Ruby complained as (Y/N) snagged a computer seat and sat down, typing up her report on Andrew Graves condition.

        “The kids are just scared. Give them a lollipop and it’s like Christmas.” She laughed, straining a smile. “Good talk rubes, but I’m going to head out.”

        “See you tomorrow.” Ruby responded lazily.

        “See ya. Good luck on your shift.” (Y/N) spoke.

        She walked out of the staff room and locked the door behind her, taking the elevator to the first floor. She exited the elevator and walked out of the hospital lobby, walking to the staff parking lot to her car. She grabbed her keys from her scrubs pockets and unlocked her car, opening the door and buckling her seatbelt before driving off.

        The drive is longer than she likes from her apartment but at least her thoughts plagued her so she didn’t have to be bored.

        A murderer and a cannibal? Not one but two! Should I call the police? I mean, they must have reasons. They were locked in an apartment and resorted to eating their neighbor? Why would they be locked in an apartment? I’m sure if they went to the police they would’ve been understanding, I mean it was life or death and one dead is better than two. What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be thinking that at all, I’m a nurse. (Y/N) thought. 

        “Ugh…” She groaned. 

        She made it to her apartment and unlocked her door, opening it and closing it behind her, making sure it was locked before she walked into the kitchen.

        I don’t feel like cooking, I don’t have the time for it anyways. She thought, opening her freezer. 

        She grabbed a quick microwaveable meal and put it in the microwave, setting it at the box’s desired time before walking away and grabbing her computer.

        She checked her emails then started her medical essay for pneumonia and bronchitis. The microwave ringed and she grabbed her food and some drink, walking back her to computer and continuing her work while eating.

        She finished her dinner and the final touches of her essay before sending it her college professors at her university. She stood up and stretched, walking to the kitchen and cleaning her dirty dishes before going to her room and picking out a nightgown. She walked to her shower and undressed, washing her hair and allowing the water to relax her nerves and sore legs from standing all day.

        Check-ups tomorrow should be Rachael Gardener and Joseph Stall. I'll meet a new patient, Lily Wells, since she's switching healthcare. After that, it's walk-in's from there. I'll pay a visit to Andrew thirty minutes before my shift ends and check up on Hailey. (Y/N) thought in her head. 

        Andrew. He's sure a special case at the moment. Nurses are going to have to keep a watchful eye on him to ensure his condition doesn't worsen or cause any harm to himself or others. (Y/N) thought. Two broken open-fracture ankles and complete fractures in his legs. Just thinking of that pain makes me squirm. She cringed, stopping herself from washing her hair to shake the imaginary chills she created.

        Not to mention his internal bleeding from his brain, his concussion from his fall must've caused that. Luckily he doesn't have any other injuries otherwise I'm pretty sure he would've been dead. She thought as she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair and body.

        I should find some video games and books to keep him from being bored. I need to get some new books for Hailey to read too, my bookshelf is going dry for her. She thought as she started getting dressed. I'll also do a quick google search of Andrew and Ashley, get some information out of their situation (or at least the most of it).

        .

        .

        Andrew woke up and stared out of his window blankly, watching as people walked in and out of the hospital, some in wheelchairs and some in casts. In a while, that'll be him leaving this place.

        Or with the pace Ashley wants, tomorrow. Andrew thought, a frustrated huff escaping his mouth. 

        Who could blame him? He tries to kill himself and all of a sudden he lost basically all of his memory from when he was born to three months ago, that's almost twenty-two years of his life lost in just a flash!

        Ashley told me to jump too. I shouldn't have listened to her and her damn rants, it would've caused so much less trouble, but I was going insane listening to her. Andrew thought. 

        Andrew's been wishing a lot of things lately. He's been wishing he could remember everything about himself, wished he never drank that supposed contaminated water that got him locked in the apartment which got him here in the first place, and wished he could get up and walk out of here.

        Ashley visited him earlier. Something in him was happy to see his sister, but dread filled his stomach at seeing her walk into the room.

        "Thought you said you weren't ever coming back?" Andrew spoke, recalling what Ashley said yesterday.

        "I might've been a bit hasty... and inconsiderate" Ashley huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Andrew. "I found a hotel nearby. I'm staying there until you get better."

        "How will you pay for it?" Andrew questioned.

        "Easy! I'll just kill people and take their wallets!" Ashley beamed, getting an glare sent her way.

        "Don't do that, idiot. You'll get caught easily without me." Andrew sighed, already finding himself frustrated at their conversation so early in.

        "Well, I could stay here! I'll stay in the bathroom when the nurses are in the room. I can keep you company and sleep in the same bed as you as we used to." Ashley teased.

        "I have two broken legs, remember?" Andrew pointed out.

        "I'll be extra careful." Ashley smiled, as he looked at her unamused. "Hmph! Be that way!" Ashley huffed, giving attitude as she crossed her arms. "Was it lonely without me last night? Did you have any nightmares?" Ashley questioned, her tone teasing with a hint of suggestion.

        Nightmares? About what? Andrew thought. And what's with her damn tone?

        He paused as he thought about anything the past three months.

        "No. Why would I have any nightmares?" Andrew questioned

        "Did you hit your head when you fell?" Ashley teased harshly, poking his cheek roughly. "Your nightmares! About that girl we killed back then? What was her name?" 

        "I don't remember." Andrew admitted. "Wait, we killed someone else?!"

        "Wow, you must've actually hit your head hard." Ashley spoke, a little surprised.

        "A nurse said I had a concussion and internal bleeding, so my memory isn't sharp at the moment." Andrew explained, still worrying about who else he's killed in his past.

        "Ugh. That'll only slow us down..." Ashley sighed. "Would you like to know?"

        "Might as well." Andrew sighed.

        "You killed that girl when we were young! She had an asthma attack in a box and it was hilarious!" she cackled.        

        "That doesn't sound funny. She was a kid, wasn't she...?" Andrew murmured.

        That nurse, (Y/N), she works in the pediatric branch. I don't think she'd be happy if she heard that. Andrew thought to himself. Why am I caring about her all of a sudden? I think I really need my brain checked out... hopefully by her... 

        "She had it coming though! She liked you and she was trying to separate the two of us!" Ashley tried to justify, noticing his reaction.

        "Whatever you say, Ashley." Andrew sighed.

        "I don't like this... I miss you, Andy! We were really close! You didn't need a girlfriend because you had me by your side!" Ashley whined. "It's because of one of these slutty nurses, huh? They're just holes for you to stick your dick into! You don't need them like you need me! I'm all you need!" Ashley started shouting.

        Andrew's really starting to think their sibling-ship is bordering to relationship the way Ashley's been acting and saying. 

        Gross... Andrew thought.

        He remembers the downright suggestive comments Ashley spoke in the apartment (and just a few minutes ago), along with the overprotectiveness he's experienced at times with her. Even if, just a bit, if their relationship was that (incest-like), it hasn't gotten physical since he places money that they would've done something while trapped in that apartment for three months. Andrew let out a sigh of relief, glad their relationship hasn't escalated to that point. 

        So there's still a turning point to get out of that. Andrew thought to himself.

        It's simple really, separate from Ashley. 

        That's all he has to do, but with her co-dependency, it won't make it easy. Unless, all he does is reject Ashley's advances towards stepping-up their relationship and trying to escape the hospital.

        "Andy, fucking listen to me!" Ashley shouted into his ear.

        Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts as the world around him spun. Ashley was holding his hair and shaking his head back and forth, creating a headache behind his head and eyes.

        "Ashley, let go! What part of concussion and internal bleeding didn't you understand?!" Andrew shouted, grabbing her hands as he fought them away from his hair.

        He succeeded in pulling her hands away, but she didn't want to let go without locks of hair in her fists.

        "I hate you, Andrew! I hate you! You and this stupid hospital and those stupid damn nurses! I hate it I hate it I HATE IT!" she screamed loudly.

        The hospital door opened and three nurses came in, their hair disheveled and bun's messy from racing down the hallway.

        "Ma'am, calm down. Otherwise I'm going to have to ask you to leave." One of the nurses spoke, their name tag reading Penelope.        

        "DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, BITCH!" Ashley screamed at the poor woman, her finger jabbed into the nurse's chest. "I bet it's you! Yeah, you! You're the bitch manipulating my brother! I'll fucking kill you!"

        "Ashley!" Andrew sternly shouted, catching her attention long enough for the three nurses to tackle the girl.

        Ashley kicked and screamed as they got her, two nurses dragging her by her legs out of the room as the other nurse ran to go call security to escort her out (and keep her out).

        Andrew watched as all the women crowded out of his room, a little surprised.

        Well, she won't be coming back soon... that was surprisingly easy... Andrew thought to himself. Step one, separate Ashley from me. Complete.

        Ten minutes went by and someone stepped into his open-doored hospital room. It was Penelope, the nurse from earlier (and yesterday). 

        "M-Mr. Graves. Would you allow me to check--?" she was harshly cut off.

        "Get the hell out." Andrew growled, glaring at her with his vibrant green eyes.

        She nodded and quickly turned around, about to leave before he spoke up.

        "Wait." he spoke, effectively stopping the nervous girl as she turned around, fiddling with her hands. "When's that nurse coming back? (Y/N) (L/N)?" Andrew questioned.

        "(Y-Y/N)...? I don't know... She's not in our branch." Penelope muttered sheepishly.

        "Well, find out!" Andrew snarled. "I refuse to accept treatment from anyone else but her!"

        "Okay!" Penelope exclaimed all too quickly (glad to no longer be taking care of Andrew) and ran out of the room.

        He really meant it too. Any time a nurse tried to come into his room, he'd shout and throw anything nearby at them. It was a drastic change from yesterday's silence. Some nurses assumed he was scared as potential memories reappeared in his head, or perhaps he needed a higher dose of pain killers. They regretted entering the room after getting hit by pens and notebooks from the nightstands, he even threw his pillow.

        "I hate working in this damn branch! Where the hell is (Y/N)?" Ruby shouted in the employee's only room, the elder asking for her help from her inferior. 

The first chapter for this is done! This series will also be posted on AO3 and Wattpad! This series won the poll after a close tie, and I'm so glad it did because I was internally rooting for this to win! Don't worry, the other series' will be posted too after this one is completely posted for what I have so far.

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Current chapter, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, final chapter.

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

[man-i-love-folklore]

oh, ok. just making me go feral without warning today, i see?

[ryn-halo26]

Sleepy poets

Andrew and Vincent are eepy

[unreal-unearthed]

if you hate this song i hate you 😁

[ballpitbee]

Boowies goth get together

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I would like to request some arson Neil please!

WIP Wednesday (3/5) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 285)

A second later Jeremy comes running from down the hall, hastily drying his hands on his pants— heathen. He signals for Andrew to wait with a held-up finger and starts to rummage through the mail on the entry table. Andrew watches this peculiar scene and Kevin does too, from the sofa. Evidently he has no idea what's going on either.

"What are you—" Kevin begins.

"I had another idea," Jeremy says, still rifling through. How three men end up with so much mail Andrew will never know.

"Two in one day? Congratulations." Andrew says, feigning pride. Jeremy knows better than to be offended by it, he just smiles brighter.

"Just a sec. I know it's here somewh— Aha!" Jeremy cuts off when he's found what he was looking for. He tears open an envelope to hold up a Christmas card with a pair of reindeer on the front. "Found it!"

"Found what exactly?" Kevin asks, taking the question straight from Andrew's mouth. Kevin squints at the card, then makes a face. "Is that the one your mother sent—"

"Yes," Jeremy cuts Kevin off sharply. He clears his throat and says it again, softer. "Sorry. Yes. It's from her, I'm recycling it." Jeremy snatches a pen from the cup on the table and scribbles something into the card before shoving it at Kevin. "You next."

"Me next?"

"Yep, we're all gonna sign it for Andrew's guy," Jeremy says, clearly proud of himself. Andrew looks into Kevin's lap to read the message Jeremy had scrawled inside. 

"Thanks for being a fan! Merry x-mas, Jeremy Knox #23"

Kevin looks down at it, scowls, then looks up at Andrew expectantly. "Jeremy is allowed to talk about him?"

"Evidently so." Andrew shrugs. "But it is not necessary, Cherry. I already game him—"

[lifemod17]

Tonee I've just heard Hozier's cover of Do I Wanna Know? on the radio and oh my God. I genuinely cannot describe how lovely of an experience that was??

His voice is so smooth, the backing vocals are heavenly, and he's made the song sound so soft? So loving??

Be right back I need to bury myself. Wake me up when Spring comes. Jesus

Oh to be able to experience listening to Hozier's cover of Do I Wanna Know? all over again for the first time 🥹💛

Actually you know what? I'm putting it here if I have any other mutuals who would like to give it a listen and/or anybody who wants to listen to it again for no other reason than "just because":

Of course I had to gif my favorite parts:

His sweet little smile!!! || if the universe doesn't want me to make more hand content, the camera man shouldn't have zoomed in

[bloody-cupcakes]

would you do the different breakfast club members with a clingy/overprotective yandere s/o who kind of acts like their parent? thank you ^-^

They each desperately need some kind of a good parental figure in their lives, even if it's from a s/o with yandere qualities lol

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, the reader acts more like a parental figure than a partner in some cases, overprotective/clingy behavior displayed by the reader

Claire Standish

She acts like the typical bratty rich girl who's used to getting what she wants. What do you mean she can't go to that party? Who are you to tell her who she can and can't hang out with?

She typically "rebels" against you by doing the exact opposite of what you said, until she realizes that, surprise surprise, you were right all along. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course

On the surface she acts really annoyed by how overprotective and clingy you are, but secretly she loves having someone who actually cares about her wellbeing and isn't just trying to get back at someone when you tell her not to do something

Andrew Clark

He's pretty used to people telling him what to do, meaning he's not very good at thinking for himself. Imagine his surprise when you encourage him to start making his own decisions

Of course you have your own opinion on what he should or shouldn't do, but why should that matter? He's his own person, which you slowly help him realize over time

He doesn't really need someone to constantly look out for him (hello, he's an athlete, he can beat someone up if he really needs to) but he definitely appreciates having someone to remind him that wrestling isn't everything

Brian Johnson

He so desperately needs someone who cares about him for more than just his grades, the poor baby. Even if you just offer to help him with his homework he'll be eternally grateful

Honestly, he trusts you so much. You could tell him to take the day off and not worry about school and he actually will because he knows you'll end up getting his work done for him

He finds how much you watch over him to be very endearing because unlike his parents you actually care about him and not just his grades. He barely even notices how attached you are because he's just as bad

John Bender

I love him but he's one you'll have to drag kicking and screaming if you want to properly care for him because newsflash, he doesn't need anybody and can look out for himself

He gets so pouty whenever you lay down ground rules on things (how often he gets detention, when he needs to eat, etc.) and will flat out refuse to listen to you unless you start to ignore him

You're eventually able to wear down his rough exterior and get to his soft inside because deep down he wants to be cared for the way you do for him, even if he acts like a brat for it most of the time

Allison Reynolds

She's so sweet, you could tell her to set her house on fire and she probably would if you promised to give her attention (please don't actually tell her that though because she will do it)

As long as you spend time with her she's pretty content to listen to you. Occasionally she "acts out" or whatever but it's more to push your buttons than it is to actually misbehave

Her clinginess rivals even yours as she has to be around you pretty much all the time or she'll get upset. Even if you have to get groceries or run errands she'll gladly tag along just so she can be near you

[imaginesbymk]

MARSTON. ━︎━︎ ZSAKUVA STRICT PROFESSOR !

chapter thirteen - ❝milk, sugar + luca.❞

← previous chapter: chapter twelve - "the british museum." next chapter: chapter fourteen - "feast." →

fanfic info / read it on wattpad

SYNOPSIS / Andrew is adjusting his time as a full-time professor (and a part-time boyfriend) and is given an assistant for the extra load after Jeremy's departure. 

BONUS / Sakuverse character cameo (bunny boy)

──────── ✧ ────────

A N D R E W

I STOOD STILL, my mind processing the words I never thought would leave Jeremy's mouth, for all the hard work he put in to maintain his spot here at the university. I must be sleeping through my alarm right now.

"Leaving? What do you mean leaving?"

Jeremy's response did little to diffuse my confusion. "Not the university entirely," he clarified. "I'm just transferring to another campus nearby. It's a leap, no doubt, but my expertise aligns with the opportunity to head there. Andrew, you're spilling Splenda on your shoes."

I looked down and saw the contents on the tiles.

"Do you really have to go?" I hear Angela ask. 

"It's an easier commute for not just myself, but my wife is on maternity leave and the job actually pays more. I would arrive home at least half an hour sooner than an hour and a half." Jeremy smiles proudly, pulling his phone out from his pants pocket. "Have I shown you all the ultrasound photos yet?"

His words hung in the air, leaving the literature professors in awe. This sudden revelation felt like a jolt to my system, disrupting the familiar rhythm of our shared academic pursuits. I couldn't help but wonder if this would happen to me one day - transferring or even resigning. Retiring, if I ever make it to the era where I grow old and wrinkly and can be qualified for senior discounts? Or earlier in my life where I live long enough to make it to see the Great Pyramids in person?

Jean-Marc's voice interjected. "C'est de la folie, Jeremy! Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm just around the corner," he reassures. "Who knows, I may come back to add a BBC news article for the students to cite."

Brushing the sweetener off my shoes, I couldn't help but express my concern. "You're leaving Chris to handle everything on his own," I pointed out, looking over at Chris who was snacking on a bowl of fruit.

Jeremy nodded, his tone confident. "Now that you've mentioned him, Chris will be taking on the workload in the literature department. I've already begun preparing him, and setting up assignments and modules for him to oversee. He'll have a head start, and you, along with your new assistant, passed down from myself, will manage the rest of the year."

I stopped sliding away the sweetener. "My what?"

Angela unlocks the passcode of her phone. "Look, my husband did the same thing in editing before we met. He never ended up liking it so it was a waste of his time and meanwhile, his colleagues were just drowning in extra workload. I hope you reconsider this. One man down could change up the whole game."

"Speaking of one man down, Professor Fadden is at life-or-death with his job. Is it true that he's self-medicating?" Jean-Marc sat down at one of the tables, peeling a Granny Smith apple.

"Allegedly, maybe it's just that he's simply a weirdo since the jump. But people have been speculating about it for months." 

I've been quiet for a minute now. No comment. It's unfortunate, but not right to gossip about allegations. I've learned firsthand how damaging rumours can be, and how they can tarnish a person's reputation and shatter their sense of self. I've been through that storm once before, and I'll give anything to avoid it a second time.

Once I track down James Zylos and hold him fully accountable for the review, I can say that my life is calm. I have my teaching job. I have Y/N. I have an outstanding tea collection. I have a roof over my head. I've worked hard to rebuild my image, or at least cover the past of it. I refuse to let anyone or anything make me vulnerable in that way again. The shadows of the past haunt me, reminding me of the pain and the isolation it brought.

The pressure of all that can suffocate like a true crime. It's a lonely journey, one I wouldn't wish upon anyone. Perhaps it was true, given I've seen his behaviour and his physical state through his eyes, paranoid and fidgeting, but as annoying as he can get, why would I care about Professor Fadden and what he's up to?

A more important question is why the Literature department would care about a Math professor. Who told them about him self-medicating, regardless if it was true or not? Maybe someone confused an ibuprofen bottle. 

I grabbed the sweeper and dustpan and finished cleaning the Splenda off the floor, and they were still talking about it, like we were huddled in a high school hallway, exchanging each other gossip like teenagers. I felt uneasy at the thought of them reading those reviews about me, the thought of anything happening to me and them talking about it like what they were doing right now.

If all a friend can do is constantly gossip to you about another friend and nothing else meaningful, chances are they may do the same thing about you. 

And just like straight out of a movie, the next professor to walk into the lounge room was no other than himself. I remember Jean-Marc warned Angela to not let him in the lounge anymore, and the last time he was here, he was frantically stuffing anything he could grab in his pockets like he was raiding us blind. He never compensated our lounge kitchen with new packs of milk and sugar.

I sat there, my heart pounding in my chest for this man I found obnoxious, someone who does not understand time and place in social cues, as Professor Fadden entered the lounge room. The atmosphere instantly became tense, the silence hanging heavy in the air. It was as if the room itself held its breath. Did he hear them? Could he know that they were just talking about him through the door?

"We got a full house, eh?" Professor Fadden's voice cut through the awkward silence, his eyes scanning the room, catching the gaze of each person present. His words were casual, but there was a hint of apprehension in his tone.

I watched as the Math professor made his way toward the kettle, attempting to engage in some small talk. "I did quite the cardio just to get hot water. Even the kettle back at the applied sciences department is broken."

"Doesn't make it okay to just use ours," His tone seemed valid, but Jeremy's words were laced with rudeness. The response was nothing short of polite. I would have expected Angela to say something as such, but Jeremy, who was like a mentor to all of us here, fostering us with balance and leadership in the department, is now ready to depart from our group, not without a passive-aggressive comment to leave behind on some poor guy. I was disappointed.

I grimaced at their behaviour. Professor Fadden, however, appeared unfazed by their remarks. He simply shrugged off their rudeness and offered a polite smile as he prepared to leave. "A bientôt!" he said to Jean-Marc. He shuts the door on the way out.

──────── ✧ ────────

A DAY PASSES. In the early hours of this Tuesday morning, I can feel the university grow stronger and I can tell because more of the students have lined up for coffee. I noticed the flight services students in their uniforms rendered the lunch line from 14:00. The female students paced a bit in their spots but all they seemed to grow concerned about was not the pain of blisters developing on the back of their heels but of the sushi bento boxes running out so fast at the hub. People kept grabbing them because it was a couple of pounds less on Tuesdays. 

But today on this Tuesday I packed my lunch from home. Perhaps I didn't need the kettle and the organizer that kept the milk, cream or sugar packs that Professor Fadden took with him. My thermos kept my Earl Grey warm and I prepped a balanced meal. 

After finishing my meal I resumed my work and used my office hours to aid some of my students, including this one who had a complaint. 

"I know I'm two lessons behind but I have no reason to come here if this could have easily been an email," they sigh, waiting to be dismissed.

"Three," I correct them. "Three lectures behind."

"You give a lot of tentative instructions in long emails and I read them just fine."

"What? As if we've been conducting a whole thread of emails this past week? I understand, Penelope. I do. But I much rather we have this face-to-face. For a more professional atmosphere of the office would be a good change of pace for you, and for me."

"For the last time, I did not use my past assignments for this one."

"Then why am I able to cross-reference this paragraph word-for-word, then?" 

She kept protesting. I kept scolding and reasoning. No one was winning here.

After back and forth and it leading to nowhere, I had no choice but to give her the same lecture I did with Colin Jaden, or C.J... you are responsible for your tuition money. Regardless of student aid or the money coming out of yours or your parents' pockets, you do the work. No substances. No outside sources. No past assignments. 

She sighs and walks out the door right when office hours were done. She slams it and I nearly jump. Careless, disrespectful students I have this semester... and that worries me. 

If I really was some wicked thing that people claim I was on RateMyProfessors, I would have dropped their grade by 10% for just slamming my door like that. No one slams my door.

I hear another knock minutes after. "Come in."

A different student walks in with his bookbag. And he looked dressed. 

"Sorry. Office hours have concluded."

He spoke apologetically. "O-oh! I'm not a student. I actually graduated. I'm here for the new job? I'm the assistant Jeremy and Chris referred."

Right, the assistant. "Apologies. I'm Professor Andrew Marston."

"I know! I heard great things about you," Luca smiles shyly. "My name is Luca Pearce."

We shook hands. His grip is light and a bit sweaty. "Nice to meet you, Luca. I'm assuming you went through the interview process already? Any sort of job shadowing?"

Luca nods. "Yes." As soon as he realized I'm waiting to hear his credentials, he quickly continues. "I graduated from University majoring in psychology. Afterwards, as you probably know, I became TA for Jeremy before his departure."

"That's excellent." It never really occurred to me that I have never seen Luca before until now. Jeremy only spoke of his assistant a couple times without even mentioning his name. Maybe he has and I never had it to remember.

"Thank you," he smiles. 

"So just making sure, you are good with computers?"

"Yes, Professor."

"I'm talking MS Word, MS PowerPoint, Excel... then there's the University's learning management system Moodle, Outlook for the emails, do you have a keycard or a set of keys to the Literature department-"

"Yes. Again, I did graduate with a degree in psychology and been Jeremy's TA. Yes to all of it," Luca chuckles nervously. I could tell I may be coming off as too stern, as what so many people say of me. He hasn't even sat down yet. "Don't worry, Professor Marston. I'll be your shadow."

"Perfect. So, for now, I'm gonna need some help with some poetry analysis, I'd like you to cross-reference the citations using the plagiarism prevention tool..."

"Turnitin, yes. Good ol' Turnitin," Luca said brightly.

"Yes and I need help with my schedules. Especially handling the Excel tables containing my students and the scheduled timestamps for their tutorials." I motion him to come over so I can hand him the cut of my workload. "You got winter boots to break into, Luca. We're gearing up towards this new semester and I'm counting on it. Not to scare you, of course."

"I understand both parties. It's stressful for students to juggle assignments but I never imagined how stressed professors must be as well until I learned it firsthand from Jeremy."

"As long as you can work under pressure. But it's good to step back and breathe. Stress and fear of failing is common and part of the human condition. I'm glad I've found ways to work around it."

"You know what they say?" Luca chuckles. "You're married to your work?"

I could only think of the book I was reading the other night, the two-hundredth page bookmarked in The Melancholy of Resistance. "Perhaps."

"Great. W-where should I..."

"Oh, you can take a seat right there. Oh, watch your step—"

Luca Pearce knocks over the trash bin.

"Sorry. That's my fault. That's a really random place to put a trash bin..."

"No no! It was my fault, really! I—I'll pick it up—" He scrambled to gather the scattered paper, nearly knocking over a chair in the process.

I stared and watched, quite amused.

He got back up and gives me an awkward thumbs-up. I returned my focus to my desk when things seemed to calm a bit, but the moment I glanced up again, Luca drops his pen.

"Jesus—" He sighed, crouching to pick it up, his bottom pushing against the items set on his new desk.

"Careful, your laptop!"

Luca cries as he catches his laptop from falling over the edge. He pants. We both exhaled the breaths we held together.

"This sounds extremely rude, but are you in accommodated with imbalance dysfunction, some kind of neurological decline, or is this just... how you are?" I ask.

"Ahah, no, no inner ear issues. Just, um... breaking in the workspace," Luca laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

At this rate, this young man might break the workspace. Nerves. I get it. I mentally noted this young man's impression thus far as he scrambled to pick up the dropped stationary supplies... adjusting his office chair. Skittish, nervous, clumsy. If he were to work with me from now on, this is what I would have to adjust to.

He finally settled into the chair, exhaling as if he had just had a mental breakdown and came back from sobbing and cursing at his own reflection in the mirror. "Okay! Ready to work."

I walked over and handed him a stack of papers, setting my thermos down for just a second, possibly modelling how poised and careful I handle the important stuff: my students' work. Luca reached for them a little too eagerly, nearly knocking over my thermos of Earl Grey in the process. I snatched it just in time.

Luca froze, looking at me like a child who had nearly set the kitchen on fire. "I—"

I wonder how Jeremy thought of his former assistant. "No disasters on day one, Luca. You got this," I reassure him.

"Right. Of course. No disasters. Noted."

He took the papers more cautiously this time, gripping them as if they were made of glass. I sat back, shaking my head slightly. This was going to be a long semester.

"You'll be fine. It's not like I'm making you jump through hoops to be my assistant."

Luca let out a nervous laugh, placing clicking his pen. "That's okay. I would have knock those over, too."

He opens his laptop and he types in his password, and it led straight to an open tab of some game he was playing, volume at max. He jumps and punched the volume down key, the sounds of xylophone and cartoonish music and sound effects fading into the usual white noise of my office.

I almost buried my head in my hands.

"Sorry—"

"Right." I cut him off and gestured to his workspace. "Just—sit."

"I'm sat."

"Settle in, I mean. And try not to break anything. Please."

Luca followed the instruction. "Yes, Professor." He hesitated before adding, "Uh... your tea?"

I grab my thermos and raise it in salute, walking back to my post. "Oh, and we're out of milk and sugar." 

──────── ✧ ────────

[history-fag]

The only man to ever