Archive of Our Own

Mel’s just left an exam room and headed to the patient board when she hears him, clear as day.

“Mr. Weatherby, you have a scaphoid fracture. Do you know what that is?”

She glances over to the adjacent room and notices Langdon speaking to a patient, but it’s hard to see him at first, as he’s turned off all the lights. The patient, a young man who looks exceedingly nervous as he darts his eyes in different directions, shakes his head no.

“Would it be helpful if I explained it?” Langdon is respectfully avoiding eye contact while still making it clear that Mr. Weatherby has his full attention, and at the young patient’s nod, he brings out a 3D model of the hand and wrist that he was holding behind his back.

As Mel continues walking, she bites the inside of her lip to hold back a smile. Langdon had told her back on that first day that Mel had taught him some things, but she assumed that he was just being polite. Now, a few weeks after his return to the ED, she had steadily realized that he actually meant it.

Langdon was baffled by the autistic patient with the sprained ankle, and handed him off to Mel with an eagerness she found a bit concerning. But when she spoke to the patient the same way she’s always spoken to her sister, he seemed shocked by how effectively she could communicate with him. He asked for advice, which had been a bit surprising to Mel - normally, doctors didn’t care about the best way to communicate with the neurodivergent. They also didn’t normally ask their mentee for pointers on the first day.

But over the last few months, Mel had discovered Langdon was not normal, but something she preferred significantly. Keeping an eye on him as she reviewed some X-rays she’d gotten back on another patient, she watched as he traced his finger over the small bone at the base of the thumb, answering Mr. Weatherby’s questions as quickly as he could ask them. After a few minutes, he rose from his stool and quietly exited the room, making sure to close the door behind him before he bounded over to Mel with a big grin on his face.

“Morning, I feel like I haven’t seen you in hours,” he said with an exaggerated frown. “Everything good with your patients?”

Mel smiled back at him and nodded her head. “Yep, just waiting on labs, but nothing critical right now. I saw you explaining that scaphoid fracture. Great work, Dr. Langdon.”

Langdon let out a grin that was somewhere between smug and sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, I got some tips from a really great resident.”

Mel found it extremely inconvenient that she blushed so easily, specifically in the presence of one Frank Langdon, specifically when that one Frank Langdon complimented her. It was actually very annoying. He was always doing that, with his stupid deep voice and his stupid floppy hair and his stupid well-toned arms that looked like they could wrap around her waist and split her right in half with enough force. Stupid.

“I gave you some pointers, but you took the time to remember them,” Mel said. “That’s more rare than you’d think around here.”

Maybe that was too honest, too biting, but Langdon was a breath of fresh air compared to the ten months she spent at PTMC without him. Mel had tried (multiple times) to explain a better approach for autistic patients to her colleagues, but they didn’t seem to internalize what she had said. In fact, if an autistic person came into the ER, it had become commonplace for the attending on staff to pull Dr. King on the case, with the unspoken acknowledgement that she knew how to get through to them.

Mel was of two minds about this. On one hand, she was grateful that the patients she saw received (hopefully) less frustrating care. On the other hand, she couldn’t ignore her frustration that none of her other residents - or even her attendings - saw it necessary to educate themselves about dealing with neurodivergency. She thought about what happened when she was off-shift - did those patients get ignored and overlooked, complained about in the break room by her colleagues as they rolled their eyes and grimaced?

So, yes, even though it would be fair to call it the bare minimum, it actually mattered a lot that Langdon had listened to her recommendations. It made her feel warm inside to know that there were two doctors in the ED she trusted to handle things correctly, and if she had any lingering doubts about Langdon’s abilities, those were resolved on his first day back with his careful treatment of Becca.

Langdon nodded seriously, which was not a common expression for him, she’d come to realize. “You, uh, you identified a blind spot for me.” He grabbed a sip of the Red Bull sitting on Dana’s desk, which was questionably his. “And after rehab, I had a lot of free time, so I was reading journals constantly. I focused on my weak points.”

Mel grinned wide at this, his words feeling like a warm hug. Things like that were exactly why she got so furious when her colleagues would talk behind Langdon’s back, making incredibly inappropriate comments about his addiction. (After a few stern defenses, she wasn’t sure if they had stopped doing it, or simply stopped doing in front of Mel.)They thought he was some golden boy adrenaline junkie who only enjoyed the action of the ED, always ready to show off and take credit for complex procedures. 

They didn’t know anything about the amount of research he did late at night when he couldn’t sleep, a more frequent occurrence after his separation from Abby. If they could see the JAMA links Langdon and Mel texted back and forth deep into the night (along with his insightful notations,) they wouldn’t recognize Langdon as the man before them.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Mel said as she began walking towards the ambulance bay for a quick break, beckoning Langdon to follow until he fell in lock step. “It means a lot to me, genuinely.”

Langdon smiled without a bit this time, just a genuine reflection of his feelings, as far as Mel could tell. He lit a cigarette while leaning up against the wall, Mel falling into a seated position next to him. “Right, I’m sure that it’s frustrating to see autistic patients suffer, what with-”

“Becca, yeah,” Mel nodded. “You were great with her.”

Langdon made a bit of a strange expression. “Sure, with Becca. But also with you.”

“Me?” Mel said quizzically. “I’m not autistic.”

Langdon nodded, a second late. “Right, yeah. Yes.”

“You might be confusing me with Becca.”

Langdon’s eyes went wide. “What? Mel, Jesus, I’m not-”

“It’s just, you were so good at caring for her, I thought you might be mixing us up,” Mel stated with a deadpan expression. “We do look very similar.”

Langdon stared at her frozen with concern for a second, and then let out a laugh brimmed with joy. “Joke!”

Mel smiled wide up at him, feeling warm inside. “I’d like to think so.”

“You’re getting better at those,” Langdon said with a tight grin, but there was a softness in his eyes that Mel was still struggling to look head-on. He dropped the cigarette far away from her, and stamped it out quickly with his foot. “I gotta check on patients, still on for dinner tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mel said with a grin.

____________________________________________________________________________

“I hate to admit this, but I’m not sure that I know what legumes are.”

Mel rolled her eyes and coughed out a laugh. “Langdon, you’re 33 years old.”

“That’s why I hate to admit it,” Langdon said with a shrug. The two were on their weekly grocery shop, which was never on the same day, which made it pretty difficult to guess how many groceries they’d need. Unfortunately, PTMC did not have the flexibility to allow two doctors to get out on time on the same day each week. This is probably a staffing problem. Gloria is at fault, somehow.

But today was a rare event that only happened about once every few months; both Mel and Langdon had the same day off. Rather than hitting the Giant Eagle after a harrowing shift, they were strolling the aisles in the daytime light. The store was bustling in a way that Mel wasn’t used to, but it didn’t seem to bother Langdon at all. He certainly wasn’t speeding up the process out of respect for his fellow shoppers.

“Beans, basically,” Mel said with a hurried tone, as she pulled their shopping cart out of the aisle just before a family of ten walked through single-file. (Surely they don’t all need to be here, Mel thought.) At Langdon’s satisfied nod, she started heading towards the produce section with a purpose. Langdon was so bad at picking out produce that he had been quietly banned from this section of the store, choosing to hover around the outskirts while Mel assessed the avocados and bananas for ripeness.

But as Mel stepped into the sea of bodies descending on the boxes of red delicious apples and mandarin oranges, she was filled with an overwhelming sense that it was all a bit too much. The loud conversation to her right about what a couple could possibly do with that many mangos, the children running seemingly unsupervised and darting around her legs, even the unnecessarily colorful signs advertising deals on plums left her frozen in place. She knew that she had to get out of this place as quickly as possible, but her feet felt glued to the floor.

Mel knew that going to the store during the day would be more difficult than their typical late-night routine. Despite choosing to work in the emergency department of a tier one trauma hospital, Mel had never been good with crowds, action, loud noises buzzing around her ear. She had learned to expect it at work and compensate with evenings and days off spent in relative quiet. And when it got too overwhelming at work, she would find time to slip away to a supply closet or throw some white noise on her earbuds while charting.

She had brought her earbuds today, and quickly turned up the white noise that was already playing in her ears as high as it could go. It was a white-hot pain, searing into her brain and leaving burn marks on her auditory processing. But it still wasn’t enough. She managed to tear herself from the unkempt floor and head over to Langdon, saying something along the lines of “car now.” Langdon, immediately concerned, was more than happy to abandon their cart in the middle of the aisle and escort her out of the Giant Eagle at a rapid pace, avoiding physical touch but swiftly maneuvering them through the heavy traffic.

After five minutes of silence, Mel felt enough like herself to consider saying words again, and she started with an apology. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened back there. I got overwhelmed.”

“Mel, no apology necessary,” Langdon said with a tone that was effortlessly reassuring. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have waited until later to go.”

Mel just shook her head, wanting to tell him it wasn’t his fault but not finding the words. “I tried blocking it out, but I could still hear it all.”

Langdon sat there for a second, pursing his lips like he was deep in thought. “Okay, I know Christmas isn’t for a few months, but I got you a gift.” He opened up the glove compartment and pulled out a sleek black box, which looked incredibly fancy and incredibly unlike something Mel King would enjoy as a present. But he handed it to her anyways, looking on expectedly as she tore off the plastic film covering the box.

Inside, she found what must have been a very expensive pair of Bluetooth headphones, the kind that envelop the ears connected by a band that goes over the top of the head. She looked at him with confusion.

“I already have headphones.” Shoot, that was too rude. “Thank you, Langdon. But I already have headphones.”

Langdon smiled back at her, not missing her subtle tone correction. “No, you have earbuds.”

Mel’s expression didn’t change, waiting for the explanation that would make the distinction click for her. Langdon filled in the gap. “Your earbuds have noise cancelling, but outside noise can still sneak in. These are much more effective at blocking out sound.”

Mel felt that warm punch in her chest again, the one that only ever seemed to land when Langdon made it clear that he was thinking about her as he went about his day. The morning tea deliveries in the break room, showing he knew she didn’t care for coffee. The way he’d pick out mundane cases for her to work when she showed signs of stress or exhaustion. And now, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones in the grocery store parking lot.

“Thank you, Langdon,” she said as she steeled herself against letting the tears at the back of her ducts out, reaching for his hand with both of hers, holding it in place as if he might disappear if she didn’t have a solid grip on him. “I can’t wear these in the ED, though. What if they need me on a trauma, or Robby needs a spare hand, or one of the interns has a questi-”

“All valid concerns,” Langdon said with a nod, cutting her off before she could continue spiraling. “So you keep wearing the earbuds at work, but for moments like this? You can have a little extra protection.”

This made sense to Mel, so she nodded firmly. “Very good idea.”

Langdon smiled at her, nodding in return. “Glad we got that sorted. Now, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go back in. You can wait in the car. I’ll finish up our lists, it should only take a few minutes.”

Mel shook her head. “You can’t pick out produ-”

“And,” Langdon said with a knowing grin, “we can come back tonight so you can pick out the produce. Deal?”

And that was so kind that Mel felt like she could turn into a boneless blob in the passenger seat, but of course she couldn’t really do that, so she settled for a big grin and a “deal” in return.

____________________________________________________________________________

If Mel wasn’t willing to follow Langdon wherever he goes, this would have been a tremendous ask. Even if Becca reached out with the same desired plans, she probably would have manipulated her into watching movies about the topic and waiting for her to move onto a new fixation. That wasn’t a nice thought, but you’d understand if you were a caretaker.

But Langdon was the one who asked, after multiple failed attempts by Mel to stay awake during one of the Pirates games he so often had on TV at his apartment. So she found herself sitting in the 300-level of PNC Park, watching what could charitably be described as baseball. In practice, the visiting Toronto Blue Jays were playing baseball, and the hometown Pirates were trying their best.

At least, that’s what Mel had picked up from the crowd around her, because she was pretty certain that you don’t scream at your own players when they’re doing well. The score - displayed prominently on a helpful board - a scoreboard, if you will - seemed to indicate things were going poorly. When the Blue Jays’ number reached five and the Pirates’ number was still zero, she had pieced together that the afternoon was not going great.

“I hope they, um, bat a home run?” Mel looked at Langdon for approval, hoping the quick Googling she had done in the car wouldn’t let her down.

Frank laughed softly, and tugged on the back of her braid a bit. “Me too, but they’re not batting right now. They’re on defense.”

Mel nodded. “Right. The blue men are our enemies.”

Frank bit the inside of his sleeve to contain his laugh, but he didn’t do the best job. “You’re learning quickly.”

Mel smiled and rubbed her hand against the back of his shoulders. She knew that Langdon was technically making fun of her, but he was the only person in her life who managed to do that while making her a part of the joke. It was a tender sort of teasing, something she’d never really had before meeting him. People always took it too far, but she trusted Langdon to dance around the edges without crossing the invisible line. That was a sacred trust for Mel.

The moment was disrupted by yet another loud crack of the bat, and a round of yelling from the bleacher creatures around them, a delightful term that Langdon had taught her as they headed for their seats. But it was only the third inning, and the sheer intensity of everything around them was starting to wear on Mel. She quickly felt like she was surrounded by a mass of anger that she didn’t fully understand. Their words of venom blended together, grating on her, and she was starting to get overwhelmed with the whole concept of being at a baseball game in an uncomfortable seat with a mediocre veggie dog in her hand.

Langdon noticed, of course. “Hey, do you wanna get out of here? I’m sorry, I know it can be a lot.”

Mel appreciated the offer, but shook her head. “No, I know how much you love baseball, and I want to make a real effort to understand it. I think I’m getting it more watching it live. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, but let me know if that changes,” Langdon whispered with a grip of her shoulder. Then he paused for a second, and started rifling through the small bag he brought into the stadium, eventually pulling out a pair of sunglasses. “Put these on.”

Mel looked at him perplexed. “It’s not sunny. It’s all cloudy.”

“I know,” Langdon said with a friendly sigh, “but sometimes when things get overwhelming, it can help to turn the brightness down.”

Mel was skeptical, but fit the large sunglasses around her existing frames, and within a few seconds she felt some meaningful relief. Langdon was right, because of course he was. It was a mildly annoying habit (being correct) that he repeated frequently. Because yeah, it did help to turn the brightness down. She suddenly felt like she could concentrate again, and by the time the inning had ended, many of the bleacher creatures had left early to avoid watching their team get blown out.

Which, of course, made it all the more exciting when late in the game, the Pirates began batting home runs. And not letting the blue players hit any more of their own, by throwing the ball very effectively. Mel found herself clapping at every strikeout, getting far more invested than she would have imagined just a few hours ago. And in the bottom of the ninth, when one of Pittsburgh’s finest broke the tie by hitting a moonshot to center-right field, Mel was elated to see her first walk-off win. They were both on their feet now, and Mel turned to Langdon and wrapped him in an enormous hug (which he responded to by lifting her off her feet and spinning her around with a wild glint in his eye, and she couldn’t tell whether it was the motion or the concept that made her dizzy.)

“They did it!” Mel was ecstatic as she grabbed Langdon by the jacket collar with both hands.

“You’re so excited,” Langdon said with a soft smile that betrayed how important it was to him that she had a good time. “You like baseball now?”

Mel considered this, pursing her lips and looking up towards the sky. “I like baseball with you.”

Once they had gotten back to the car and were waiting somewhat patiently at a standstill in the long line trying to get out of stadium parking, Langdon pulled out his phone and handed it to her after typing in a website. Mel turned to look at him, figuring there was no point in arguing about phone usage while driving.

“What’s this?”

“That,” Langdon said with a smirk, “is Fangraphs. I forgot to tell you about the best part of being a baseball fan - the stats.”

Mel let out a soft, excited gasp.

“Why don’t you click around for a while. There’s an FAQ that explains every acronym.” By the time Langdon tried to take the phone back and show her how to navigate the site, Mel was already deep in her own journey.

About fifteen minutes later, Langdon had successfully navigated them back onto the city streets, and when he reached a red light he turned to look at her. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Langdon,” Mel said with her eyes full of wonder, “there are so many graphs.”

____________________________________________________________________________

By 5:00 PM, Mel was a dead woman walking. Well, not really. She didn’t like that expression, because she knew from a decade of medical training that if someone was walking, they were certainly not dead. But she identified with what the idiom was trying to say.

She hadn’t lost any patients, which was no small mercy. In fact, everything was incredibly routine, an entire day that probably could have been handled in an urgent care. Mel didn’t mind this - where Langdon would start to bounce off the walls if he went eight hours without a risky trauma, she was perfectly happy to set broken bones and suture simple lacerations. Those people needed help as well, even if it wasn’t flashy.

No, what was getting to Mel was the attitude. She didn’t know what was in the air today, but three patients had yelled at her for trying to do her job. First was a middle-aged man who was very frustrated to have chlamydia, and even more frustrated when he learned he’d have to inform his wife of twenty years. A few hours later, she had a D2 college track star who decided it was Mel’s fault that he broke his ankle in the middle of practice. He was a senior, and Mel’s insistence that he’d need to miss the start of the season had not gone over well.

The one that sent her over the edge was a teenage girl with a textbook case of alcohol poisoning after she joined her friend to skip school, crushing a bottle of Everclear obtained from unknown sources in the parking lot of her local mall. The girl was just coming back to her senses as her worried parents arrived, and she had screamed at Mel for calling them. Mel tried to explain that she didn’t have a choice in the matter, but it did nothing to ease the girl’s fury, eventually leaving Mel’s thoughts resembling harsh static.

Langdon took one look at her as she exited the patient’s room and immediately sent her on break. On a normal day, she’d argue that she wanted to keep working, but speaking out loud was a foreign concept at this point. She could make out “locker room” and “twenty minutes,” but everything else felt distant and muddled, like she was underwater and he was calling from the surface. She nodded anyways, somehow made her way to the locker room and promptly collapsed into a seated position against the wall.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been when Langdon entered, but the worried expression on his face told her it couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. He approached her slowly, tentatively, like he was trying to read her mind to determine what she needed from him. She felt a surge of admiration, but she didn’t have time to wait for him to figure it out.

“Pressure,” she said while looking at the floor.

In a flash, Langdon was on the ground with her, pulling her into his lap and hugging her tightly from behind. They’d done this a few times before, but never at work, and Mel shuddered to think what would happen if one of their coworkers walked in. But that fear was nothing in comparison to the relief, the endorphin rush from Langdon’s comforting touch slowly bringing her back to normalcy. Within a minute, Mel could think again, and she rested her head on his chest.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him with fond eyes. “That really helped.”

“Any time, sweetheart,” Langdon replied with a smile. “You feeling better now?”

Mel nodded. “Much better. Sorry to have you do this, uh, at work. I don’t mean to steal your time.”

Langdon snorted at this. “Well, I’m waiting on labs for all of my patients, and when I get back out there, I will… still be waiting on labs for all of my patients.”

Mel laughed, an ugly one, something vulnerable. Something she’d only really share with him. “I got lucky you weren’t busy. I,” she started before cutting herself off, not wanting to give away too much.

“What’s that? You can tell me,” Langdon said with his soothing tone that always seemed to break through her anxieties. “You can tell me anything.”

Mel swallowed. “...I don’t know what I would have done without you. It’s a little scary.”

She was dancing around a truth that she’d come to realize over the last few months, one as wonderful as it was alarming. She really didn’t know what she’d do without Langdon. It felt ridiculous to admit. She’d managed 28 long years of life on her own, and it’s not like she was doing wonderfully, but she was more than capable of treading water. 

She navigated the deaths of both her parents on her own, and became Becca’s primary caretaker in her first year of college. She’d made it all the way through med school and the first two years of residency while managing unforgiving finances and a dependent family member with no meaningful help. You could call Mel a lot of things, but weak wasn’t one of them.

And then, enter one Frank Langdon into her life, and all of a sudden she had no idea how she’d gotten this far without him. His presence lifted a load off her back that she hadn’t even noticed she was carrying, and now she was terrified that her muscles had atrophied. What if he had been busy? What if, some day in the future, Langdon wasn’t around anymore? She didn’t know if she could still carry the weight alone.

For once, Mel was grateful that Langdon seemed oblivious to her internal turmoil. He looked like he was deep in thought. Then his eyes found hers again, soft and reassuring. “I have something that might help. Can I get up?”

Mel didn’t really want to leave his arms yet, but she hummed in agreement, shimmying off of him and rising to her feet as she dusted herself off.

Langdon went over to his locker and punched in the code. “I planned to give this to you over the weekend, but I want you to have it now.” He ruffled through the clothes hung up on the hooks, throwing a Pirates hoodie to the side. “I don’t know if this will work, but I did some research after I realized pressure helps.”

He walked back over to her holding a fleece zip up hoodie, and gestured to ask if he could put it around her shoulders. He slipped Mel’s arms through the sleeves, and she immediately felt a flush of relief from the weight of it.

“It’s heavy,” Mel said with a small smile.

Langdon lit up in return. “It’s weighted. I wasn’t sure if it was bullshit, and I know it can’t replace me. But I wanted you to have something to help in a pinch, just in case I’m not available.”

And if Mel wasn’t trying so hard to pull herself together, if she wasn’t already starting to worry about how long it had been since she checked in on her patients, she’d be crying in front of Langdon. She blinked back hot tears, starting to fall apart at how thoughtful it all was. With Langdon, she never really needed to ask for help. He somehow knew ahead of time what she needed, even if she couldn’t imagine the answer. She wanted to tell him how much it all meant to her, how no one had ever known her like that, how no one had even tried to do so.

But then she’d really start crying, so she muttered “thank you” with her eyes towards the ground, hoping somehow it would convey everything she meant.

It seemed like it did. Langdon smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. “Two hours left. Go get ‘em.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Mel was handling an intubation when she heard Dana call out from the charge nurse desk. Autistic patient coming by ambulance with a caretaker, symptoms indicative of an MI but all his vitals were solid. Possible panic attack, on the way to PTMC for a thorough examination. Mel felt her heart drop for a second, until she saw Langdon come running from the other side of the hospital floor and speak with Dana before he headed for the doors. God, was she grateful he could pick up the slack.

Fifteen minutes later, Mel had finished up her work in trauma one, discarded her gloves in the waste bin and headed out to the floor, looking to find Langdon and assist. She spotted him in south 7, but noticed he had already closed the door and turned the lights off. It killed her not to rush to his aid, but she knew entering the room would only disturb the patient further, and she trusted Langdon. More than he could ever know, really.

She technically sat down in front of the computer to catch up on charting, but if she happened to choose the perfect angle to watch Langdon through the window, that was really no one else's business.

She had heard the patient nearly hyperventilating as he was wheeled to the room, but he looked marginally better now. Still sucking down breaths at a rapid pace, but not as viciously as he had before. Mel watched Langdon check the CT results, and saw his shoulders fall from his neck a few inches. Good, she thought. That’s a good sign.

Then, she furrowed her brow as she watched his next steps. He ran out of the room quickly after a brief conversation with the patient, and headed for the supply closet. He came back with an assortment of items, but he was running too quickly for her to get a good look.

When he re-entered the room, the first thing he pulled out were earplugs. He offered them to the patient, who nodded and put them on. Then he offered a sleep mask, which Mel didn’t even know they had in the supply closet. Did Langdon bring that himself? The patient slipped it on, and she watched in real time as he grew calmer, breathing at a normal pace. What in the world?

Finally, the big ticket item. Langdon had brought several blankets. An abnormal amount of blankets. He checked with the patient each time, starting with one and piling them on top of each other. He must have placed ten blankets down before the patient nodded, and he backed away. He said something else, then walked out of the room with a smile. He looked around until he caught Mel’s eyes, his smile breaking into a full-fledged grin as he gave her a double thumbs up before walking with authority to another patient’s room.

Mel sat there unblinking, confused about what she’d just witnessed. Why did he need so many blankets? What could that possibly do to help-

Pressure.

____________________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later, Mel walked into the break room with purpose. She found Langdon eating lunch with McKay, while Santos occupied the other table, pointedly facing away from Langdon. At the sight of her, Langdon broke into a smile and waved at her, gesturing for her to sit in the empty chair next to him. Mel took a few angry steps forward.

“Why are you treating me like I’m autistic?”

For the first time since Mel arrived in PTMC a year and a half ago, she could have heard a pin drop. Langdon sat frozen, mouth half-open, sandwich still dangling in front of his mouth. McKay had reached a similar state, the table looking like an art exhibit of clay statues. Long seconds ticked by, the silence feeling too thick to puncture. The needle came from the other table.

Santos cleared her throat, apprehensive. “You’re… you’re not?”

And that was enough for Mel to shake her head, turn around and start walking out.

She could hear Langdon drop the sandwich behind her and start calling out for her. “Christ, Santos - Mel, wait, talk to me here.”

But Mel had no interest in staying here for a second longer, and she made a show of slamming the door behind her. It was 6:45 PM, so she found Robby and lied that there was an emergency with Becca.

“Of course, Mel. You’re good to go. You want me to send Langdon with you?”

There’s nothing she wanted less, so she shook her head and speed-walked out the doors, kept that pace for the two blocks to the bus station, and managed to catch the outgoing bus with seconds to spare.

____________________________________________________________________________

The thing is, Mel wasn’t stupid. She knew that she had many traits that could easily be read as symptoms of autism. You don’t become a doctor with an autistic sister without having an in-depth understanding of the pathology, and it’s not like Mel had never noticed the persistent feeling of being othered, the connections that eluded her, the sense that she was always on the outside of an inside joke. She’d lived 28 years and some change in this body and mind, so yeah, she noticed.

But it was always easily explained by her childhood. With how much time she’d spent with Becca, it was always difficult to draw a line between nature and nurture. Did she shy away from loud noises because she hated loud noises, or was it because she had a learned response from Becca’s meltdowns?

And besides, it’s not like anyone in the King family had the time to consider that they had a second autistic child. She loved Becca more than anything, but it wouldn’t be realistic to say that her parents’ time was evenly split between the two of them. Becca needed more. That was always the case. Becca needed visits with counselors, she needed a special school, she needed serious help. The Kings were a middle-class family, and the toll this took on their finances was considerable.

In contrast, Mel was, well, she was just fine. Sure, she was a little awkward, but who wouldn’t be in this situation? She didn’t get to have friends come around the house, and she didn’t get to watch the shows or play the games that other kids did, so of course she’d have trouble making friends. And of course that awkwardness would carry into adulthood, because she missed a lot of the formative experiences that give you practice. But she’d done well in school, she was a doctor, a great caretaker. She was fine.

And maybe she’s always known that wasn’t true. But maybe the cost of admitting that was steeper than she had been willing to pay.

But now, as she reads through paper after paper on the condition and patients’ lived experiences in her living room, she can’t shake the feeling that she’ll turn the page and find her own internal monologue printed in the PDF. It’s unsettling how easily she can pull direct quotes from the so-called high functioning and find an identical experience of her own. It’s like she turned into a radio channel that only plays the hits, her specific hits. It’s comforting and terrifying at the same time, the joy of being known but the horror of being seen.

Her JAMA session is interrupted by a knock at the door, quiet but just loud enough for her to hear. She immediately knows who it is from the impact of his knuckles.

“Hey,” Langdon says apprehensively as she opens the door. He’s changed out of his scrubs, wearing a chorework jacket over his hoodie and black jeans tearing at the ends. “Can I come in?”

Mel wordlessly moves to the side, allowing Langdon to step into the foyer. He makes it approximately one second before he begins apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Mel. That was fucked up of me.” He runs his hands through his hair once, causing it to look frantic before the strands obediently flop to the side. “For what it’s worth, it didn’t start like this. I was… keeping track of the things that helped you. Taking notes, I guess.”

Mel looked at him with wide eyes. “Taking notes?”

Langdon shook his head, looking exasperated. “Not literal notes. Just, making a mental note when you mentioned that something calmed you down. So I’d know for the future. The same way I remember your tea order.”

“It’s a little different,” Mel said with a scoff.

“I know, honey, I know.” Frank reached out to touch her, but quickly withdrew, and sighed as he put his hands on his hips. “But I wanted to help. I always want to help. It’s the way I am.”

Mel looked at the ground, but she felt a little pang in her heart. He wasn’t lying. All he’d ever done is help. Without prompting, without her having to try to explain an indescribable feeling. She didn’t have to ask for him to be there. He was just always there.

“And after rehab, you know, I told you that I did a lot of research on autistic patients. I meant it. I read a lot.” Langdon looked at her with desperation in his eyes, like he’d burst into flames if this went poorly. She hoped she had remembered to lock the windows, her apartment was pretty high up. “But the more I read, the more I noticed that a lot of things that help you are… similar.”

Mel shook her head and hugged herself tightly, frustrated that she couldn’t ever be upset quietly. It always involved a physical component, her body betraying her emotions. How different life would be if she could keep anything inside, if she didn’t have to wear her feelings on her face. “You could have talked to me. You could have told me what you were doing. I don’t like - it feels like you manipulated me. I don’t like that.”

“I’m so sorry, Mel.” It was Langdon’s turn to stare at the ground. She was glad she mopped on Tuesday. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I just…” Mel could tell he had literally bitten his tongue.

“What’s that? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.” Mel tried to say it sarcastically, but it was sincere, and it reflected in her voice to her dismay.

Langdon looked up at her, and closed the distance between them. “I’ve been around for a while. Not forever, but sometimes it feels like it. Shit, I don’t know.” He kicked the ground softly. “But I know how hard it’s been, and I know how much you’ve overcome. I know you’re an incredible doctor, an incredible sister to Becca, an incredible person in general. And you’ve been, fuck, you’ve been an incredible person to me. And I didn’t want to talk about this and scare you off. I didn’t… I didn’t want to lose you.”

Mel stood there for a second. And then she burst into tears, and brought Langdon into a hug, holding on so tight she thought he might burst. It took a moment, but he hugged her back just as hard, and she felt a few tears hitting the top of her head when she nestled into his chest.

“I think you’re right,” she murmured against his shirt. “It’s just scary. I don’t know what comes next.”

Langdon guided them to the couch carefully, setting Mel down and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in again. “Nothing has to come next, you know. Nothing has to change.”

She pulled back and wiped her eyes, looking up at him with bleary confusion. “But it has to. If I have this condition, I need to research it, talk to someone, figure out what can help.”

“But we already know what helps, Mel.” Langdon stared at her with those same soft eyes, just a little more red. “You’ve been figuring it out your whole life, even if you didn’t know why.”

And then she’s crying again, and he pulls her back into his arms, lightly rubbing her back. He starts up again. “Listen, you don’t have to see someone, you don’t have to get a diagnosis. If that would help you, then I’m all for it. But if the things I’m doing are okay and they help you get through the day, that’s enough. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

His words ring in her head. If the things I’m doing are okay and they help you get through the day, that’s enough. And it hits her like a lightning bolt. It’s not enough. The friendship they’ve built, it’s wonderful, it’s magnetic, it’s a warm bloom in her chest that carries her through the tough days and makes the good days even better. And it’s still not enough.

Because when she pulls back and looks Langdon in the eyes, that electric blue that lights her up inside when she sees them straight on, she knows that she’ll never be satisfied with just being his friend. This isn’t friendship. He’s the first person she thinks of in the morning and the last person she thinks of before she goes to bed. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her, and she’s terrifyingly in love with him, and he’s sitting here on her couch consoling her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like they were both born to slot together like puzzle pieces.

So, it’s been a big day for realizations. She can’t do anything about the first one yet. That’s a problem for tomorrow, if she decides to pursue it. She’d have to find a therapist, for one. She imagines there are a lot of checklists in her future. That’s okay, she likes checklists.

But on the second realization, she can do something.

And he did say he just wants to help.

“Langdon, I need something else.”

“Of course,” Langdon replied. “What can I do?”

“Pressure.”

Langdon nods. “Okay, did you bring the hoodie home? Unless-”

“You.” Mel lays down on the couch and holds her arms out, inviting him in.

Langdon pauses for a second, and something flickers across his face. Then he lies down on top of her, putting his full weight on her like she’d told him to do the first time, when he was too nervous about crushing her. “Is that good, sweetheart?”

Mel nods, then takes a deep breath, trying to control her nerves. “It’s good, but it could be better.”

“How? Anything, just tell me.”

“Could… could you kiss me? I think I need a little more pressure.”

Langdon’s eyes go wild, frozen in surprise for a few seconds, but then his face forms into something joyous, a boyish grin taking over as he leans in. “A little more pressure?”

Mel nods as she stares back at him. She’d expect her heart to be beating out of her chest, but somehow, it feels like she’s spent her whole life off-beat, and she’s finally found the right rhythm. “Mouth pressure.”