Chapter 7 – The Quiet Hallway
Bellevue Hospital, Sub-basement corridor near Pathology – 04:22 a.m., Day 9
The hospital never truly sleeps, but at this hour the sub-basement feels like the bottom of the ocean. Fluorescent lights buzz faintly. Somewhere far away a freezer compressor kicks on.
Leo is walking on autopilot, carrying a stack of death certificates to medical records because Noah decided 4 a.m. was the perfect time to "teach humility." His eyes are so dry they hurt. He almost collides with a wall before he realizes someone is leaning against it.
Matteo.
In plain black scrubs, no white coat, surgical cap still on like he just stepped out of an OR. Arms folded. Watching Leo like he's been waiting.
Leo stops so fast the certificates flutter.
Matteo's voice is low, almost swallowed by the hum of the lights.
"You've been avoiding me."
Leo blinks. His brain is syrup. "I… no? I've been on call. We all have."
"You look me in the eye during a thoracotomy, but you won't meet my gaze in the cafeteria line for three days." Matteo pushes off the wall, takes one slow step closer. "Explain."
Leo's mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Matteo stops an arm's length away. Close enough that Leo can smell the faint antiseptic and cedar on him.
"I don't play games, Leo. I don't have time. So I'm going to say this once."
He pauses, eyes searching Leo's face like he's looking for the exact spot to cut.
"I want you. Not as an intern. Not as a project. I want you in my bed, in my apartment, in my life. And I think you want it too, but you're terrified."
The words hit like a defibrillator.
Leo stumbles back a step, certificates scattering across the linoleum.
His heart is suddenly sprinting so hard it hurts.
"I'm—" His voice cracks. "I'm not gay."
The sentence comes out small, stunned, almost childlike.
Matteo doesn't move. Doesn't laugh. Doesn't get angry.
He just looks at Leo (really looks) with something painfully gentle in his eyes.
"I didn't ask what you are, Leo. I told you what I want."
A beat.
"And I've watched you put your hands inside dying men without flinching. I've watched you choose this job over sleep, over food, over sanity. So don't stand there and lie to me with a label you haven't even tested."
Leo's back hits the opposite wall. His knees feel liquid.
"I've never—" he starts, then stops. Swallows. "I've never even thought about— guys. Not like that. Not until—"
Not until you, hangs unspoken in the air between them.
Matteo's gaze softens another degree. He takes one more step (close enough now that Leo can see the faint scar through his left eyebrow, the exhaustion under the arrogance).
"I know," Matteo says quietly. "That's why I'm not touching you. Not until you ask me to. But I needed you to hear it. Out loud. So there's no pretending later."
Leo's hands are shaking. He presses them flat to the wall behind him like it can hold him upright.
"I don't know what I am," he whispers. "I just know when you look at me in the OR I can't breathe. And that scares the shit out of me."
Matteo's mouth curves (not quite a smile, something sadder).
"Good," he says. "Fear means it matters."
Silence stretches, thick and electric.
Finally Matteo steps back. Gives Leo the space he clearly needs.
"I'm on call tomorrow night," he says, voice back to normal volume. "Cardio room is empty after 2 a.m. if you want to talk. Or not talk. Door stays unlocked."
He turns to go, then pauses.
"For the record," he adds without looking back, "I don't care what you call yourself. I care that you're honest when you figure it out."
He walks away, footsteps echoing until the corridor swallows him.
Leo slides down the wall until he's sitting on the cold floor among scattered death certificates.
His pulse is roaring in his ears.
He sits there until the overhead lights automatically dim at 5 a.m., stunned, terrified, and (for the first time in his entire life) completely unsure who he is.