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[xerrorch]

How can I become a writer?

Write.

But I don't know where to start.

Write.

But I'm worried.

WRITE.

What if nobody likes it?

W R I T E

What if it's not very good?

Write. Write. WRITE. WRITE.

W

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I

T

E

Write

Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write.

Write.

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

W R I T E

Write write write

Write

Write

[xerrorch]

Walls of Ice

synopsis: zayne and you have eased into a simple routine under the vague title of a relationship. however, the comfortable ease of your friendship and zayne’s metaphorical prevent you two from crossing a very important boundary…

warnings: just some angst, making out, and suggestive language. no beta read, we die like men

pairings: zayne x mc (you)

word count: 2.8k~

author’s note: this is a fic i made for my friend and i decided to post it here for the first time. and yes this is based off of his nightly rendezvous card. also, requests are always open if you want something specific so enjoy!

The hospital was quiet tonight, which meant another calm day for Dr. Zayne.

You sighed with relief as you entered onto the Protocore Incidents floor, where his office was. Only the occasional beeping from machines in patients’ rooms and the quiet chatter of nurses filled the air, and your heart ironically felt a little lighter.

He was working extra hard lately, and you were grateful it wasn’t a hard night for him. You wanted to surprise him by coming by the hospital instead of waiting for him back at his house like usual; your shift at the Hunter’s Association ended early anyway.

You approached his office door and knocked on it gently. It was a few seconds before you heard his deep timbre echoing through the wooden door.

“Enter,” he said. So formal.

You sighed and shook your head with a smile as you moved to open the door.

“Dr. Zayne?” You called to him gently as you poked your head in. “I’m here for my appointment.”

He recognized your voice immediately, his head snapping up from his mountain of paperwork and meeting your eyes. There was a flicker of surprise on his face before it was quickly schooled, which made you chuckle.

Always so put together, and now you were here to help him relax.

“Hi,” you said softly, slinking into the room and shutting his office door quietly behind you. Zayne took off his glasses for a moment and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his eyes overworked and tired.

“Am I late?” Zayne asked with a sigh before placing his glasses back over his nose. “I’m sorry if I am; this paperwork needs to get done.”

You hummed and slowly approached his desk, hands behind your back as you leaned forward and inspected the text of one of the papers piled on his desk. You don’t understand a single word, with everything being written in medical terms and in the obvious scratchy handwriting of a doctor.

“And when are these reports due, Doctor?” You asked him knowingly, glancing up at him and tilting your head at him.

He frowned as you saw right through him, clicking his pen twice before breaking your gaze to continue writing. “Next week.”

You sighed and rounded his desk, fingers trailing along the wood as you walked.

“Zayne, you need a break,” you said a little pleadingly, reaching a hand out to rest on his shoulder. You shook it gently and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance. “I admit that this wing wouldn’t be here without your hard work, but it also won’t fall apart if you clock out on time tonight.”

Zayne’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily before opening again, a deep breath filling his lungs. He continued writing.

“You know as well as I do how much my case load has increased,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the paper. You paused at his words, heart thudding against your chest.

More incidents involving protocore explosions and manipulated protocores had seen a spike recently. You were almost as busy as Zayne some days, with fluctuation after fluctuation calling you out to the field. It was exhausting for everyone on this end involving protocores, but with Zayne by your side, you had managed to find time to take care of yourself in all this chaos.

As a result, though, Zayne retreated more and more into this little office on the Protocore Incidents floor of the hospital, working late into the night and always remaining on call. It made your heart ache for him.

“I know,” you said quietly, reluctantly. “But you're the type to not take your own advice.”

He was constantly reminding you to take care of yourself, to leave work as the second most important thing to worry about. However, he never took his own advice or placed his work on the backburner.

Zayne shook his head and stood up from his desk, taking a stack of papers over to a file cabinet in the corner of his office. He opened a drawer and picked out a folder, neatly placing the papers inside it.

“MC, you know that I sometimes cannot leave on time,” he said, keeping his head down as he rifled through his file cabinet.

You frowned at that. There he went again putting other things before himself.

You had known this man since you were a child, saw him grow into a handsome, successful, smart doctor. He had always kept a distance between his friends and his personal life and issues.

However, now that you two were in— well, you supposed you could call it a relationship— Zayne still maintained that stubborn wall from childhood. It bothered you sometimes, especially when he was set on working late like this.

“Zayne, cmon, I know you,” you said softly, even though a part of you just wanted to shake him to get it through his head. You approached him as he stood at the file cabinet. “I know that you’re already a week ahead on all your reports.”

Zayne frowned again, his brow furrowed. It was a telltale sign that you were right.

He doesn’t say anything so you take the lead again, placing a hand on his forearm and moving closer to him.

“Let’s go home,” you said gently. “You need the rest.”

You didn’t expect him to relent that easily, but that’s exactly what happened. He released a little huff of air before placing the folder back into the cabinet and shutting it. You smiled, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story as to his behavior.

“Let’s go, then,” he said quietly, moving behind his desk to pluck his jacket off of the back of his chair. He shrugged it on as you placed your mittens back on your hands, getting ready to go.

The way back was quiet as Zayne waved goodnight to his coworkers and led you down to the lobby. He was as always the gentleman, a gentle hand placed on the small of your back, but there was something beneath that cold expression; you knew it.

And the security guard at the front desk only made the tense atmosphere worse by calling after you two: “I’m surprised to see you out so early tonight, Dr. Zayne. Have a good night!”

His body instantly tensed as he pulled out the keys to his car. You kept your eyes down on the ground and bit back your tongue.

The car ride home was equally silent, and you shifted in your seat as Zayne drove down the highway, as always the cautious driver. You decided to break the tension a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him carefully, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His stern expression softened just a touch, and your chest felt a little lighter.

“I ate earlier. No need to worry.”

You didn’t linger on the stiffness in his voice; you didn’t want to. Part of you wanted to ignore the presence of his walls altogether, but it was hard when he caged himself so tightly behind them in everything he did.

Thank god he lived close to the hospital.

You exited the car without glancing back to see if he was following, punching in the code to his house that he made you memorize in case he wasn’t home. A little kernel of annoyance now resided in your chest, because how could he still be putting up these walls around you?

Forget about those years-long feelings you hadn’t properly worked through together. You were still one of his oldest friends.

You opened the front door and dropped your bag at the little white table in the entryway. You could hear his footsteps behind you, and you could already feel the argument building in you before he even spoke.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked gently, the door clicking shut behind him and shrouding the entryway in shadows. Zayne flicked on the lamp sitting on the little white table, casting a warm glow over the room.

He was close to you, his chest nearly pressing against your back. It was too close for how annoyed you were with him.

“I’m not angry,” you punched out, and Zayne sighed as you stepped away from him. You turned to face him. “I’m just worried.”

Clearly he hadn’t expected for you to say that. His expression softened as he glanced away from you, gathering his thoughts together.

“MC, come here…,” he murmured, holding out a hand to you.

You weren’t ready to ‘come here’ just yet.

“No. No!” You were growing frustrated now. He couldn’t just hug you and make this go away. “You’re not the only one who is allowed to worry, Zayne!”

The silence that fell over the two of you made you realize just how loudly you were speaking to him. You believed you hadn’t raised your voice at him since you were kids, but right now it felt necessary. Maybe then he would be able to hear you.

Zayne ran a hand over his face, his glasses jostling slightly on his nose.

“I’m used to this,” was all he said. Before you could urge him on, he continued. “I’m used to the stress, and the chaos, and everything in between.”

You held your breath as he spoke like that, your nails digging into your palms. Your mind went quiet, his gentle voice sliding over your skin like a heated touch.

“Your grandmother told me to look after you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” At the mention of your grandmother, you flinched slightly. Your gaze traveled to the floor beneath your feet as you swallowed.

He didn’t say anything else, and silence stretched.

“I’m not the only priority here,” you murmured. Another sigh escaped Zayne from across the room.

“Yes, you are. You always have been.” A footstep, then another. You don’t move, shaking your head.

“Zayne, no,” you said firmly. The footsteps paused. “I dedicated my life to helping others–”

“So did I.”

“–so why can’t I help you?”

A sigh. “You’ve always been persistent, even as a child,” he murmured, taking another step closer to you.

“I know I’m not a doctor, but I want to help you,” you said, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. He had a guilty look on his face, and you wondered why. Why does he think like this?

“MC…,” he whispered, taking another step until you were toe to toe with him. His hands twitched, as if he was holding back from cradling your face. “The last thing I would want to do is burden you.”

Burden. It was such a strong word. The knife in your heart twisted at that, and your expression softened, your lips parting.

You suddenly wanted to protect this man from anything and everything; there was a fragile heart underneath this icy exterior. He surely couldn’t protect you all the time– he was only a man. He could damn well try, but even Zayne could tire himself out eventually.

But this man could never be a burden. Never.

Your hands come up instead to hold his face between your hands. You rose onto the tips of your toes, slowly but surely.

“Whoever told you that caring for you is a burden needs to pay,” you whispered before tentatively pressing your lips against his.

It was soft, but full of meaning and emotion. You didn’t understand why, but you wanted to let Zayne know that you were here. You were alive and kissing him.

And by God, you wanted him to know that you cared about him. Wholly and truly, even after years of friendship.

When you pulled back, Zayne’s breathing became heavy, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t decipher. He stood rigidly, and your fingers twitched as they cradled his jaw. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like it?

It happened fast, before you could even get out a word of an apology.

He dove straight back in, hands flying to your jaw as he kissed you deeply. It wasn’t as soft as the first time, his tongue sliding against your lips and silently begging for you to open up for him. You complied with a hum and tilted your head back; Zayne’s chest gave a low rumble as he tasted you.

It hit you that this is the first time you had kissed him. You didn’t even think about it when you did it– it just felt right. Regardless, after years of friendship, that line had finally been crossed in a physical sense.

His glasses slipped from the bridge of his nose and bumped against your face. You didn’t mind the interruption as he pulled away from you, panting heavily as he inspected your face.

Your hand lifted and gently touched his lens, ready to take it off yourself. He brushed your hand away and shook his head, huffing as he ripped it off himself before returning to your lips.

It was quick, impulsive. And you knew that whatever walls Zayne had in place came crumbling down at your feet. Down fell the pinnacle of perfection and control that Zayne embodied, and in its place was this.

It was like he was a different person, slowly backing you against the wall while kissing you in the middle of the foyer. Before he could trap you there, you stumbled a bit over your feet, momentarily breaking away from the kiss to glance down. Zayne grumbled and dipped his head to try and find your lips again. His hands then fell from your neck to your hips, then to the backs of your thighs.

You yelped as he hoisted you upwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your eyes widened as you looked down at him, at the intensity in his eyes; it was ironically like a blazing fire.

“Zayne…” You didn’t even know what to say other than his name, and his eyes darkened at the sound of his own name.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain control around you?” He asked gruffly, and your heart thudded loudly against your ribs. You shook your head down at him, your teeth finding your lower lip and biting down.

His gaze dipped to your lips again, his chest expanding and his brows rising in interest.

What was this? This was not Zayne anymore.

With a grunt he started walking with you still wrapped around him, tightening his grip on you. You already knew that he was heading for the stairs, and there went another wall that came crashing down.

You never stayed over. Never. You guessed things had changed now.

“How could I have believed that?” He asked, and you were not sure what he was talking about at all. You settled into his hold, your head in the crook of his neck, and Zayne’s hold tightened immensely, as if he were afraid you would run from him. “How could I resist the most tempting person I’ve ever met?”

You shivered at his words, your eyes fluttering shut. It seemed like his words stretched across years, generations, eons. It came from his very soul.

As he climbed the stairs, your head lifted slightly, your lips attaching to his earlobe. You sucked the skin into your mouth before nibbling gently on the flesh.

“I think we found something you’re terrible at,” you murmured. It was to tease him, just like when you were kids, but Zayne took that little jab as something to chuckle at.

He adjusted his hold on you, your core shifting against the rigid plane of muscles running down his abdomen. Zayne groaned at the movement, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, and you were so sure he would leave marks there.

“I’ve been resisting this since we were thirteen years old,” he admitted bluntly as he reached the top of the stairs. You faintly heard the thud of a door opening as you continued to nibble on his ear lovingly. “I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

When the soft plush of the bed hit your back, you flinched, and your vision of the ceiling was immediately invaded by Zayne’s black hair and the deep green of his eyes. You cracked a smile as he just took you in, his gaze flickering around your face as if to check you were really beneath him.

“Guess you lost your streak,” you whispered, and amusement sparkled behind his eyes as you draped your arms around his neck. Those icy walls that once surrounded his heart melted into mere puddles.

His once cold hands were now warm as they glided across your skin, and a rare smile tugged at Zayne’s lips as he watched you shiver. Your nostrils flared at your intake of breath, your chest expanding against his palm; he glanced down at your body like a doctor, methodically, but now with a barely concealed hunger.

“I’ve hardly lost.”

It was Zayne’s turn to feed into his urges, and you didn’t mind it one bit as the night slowly bled away into day between sweat-slicked skin and whispered confessions.