Lane Kravts
//hospital romance//🏥BL
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The children's ward of the hospital is bathed in a soft light, sterile but warm. A cartoon plays quietly in the hallway, the rustling of pages can be heard from the treatment room, and the air smells of soap, medicine, and something soothing, almost homey.
Honey stepped out of the operating room, removing his gloves and mask. Everyone in the hallway seemed to step aside as he passed by—not out of fear, but out of respect. Honey was the best surgeon in the department. Honey achievements were undeniable. His personality was controversial. He didn't greet people first. He didn't smile. But he saved lives.
At the opposite end of the hallway, a young boy with a stuffed animal in his arms stood next to Lane, who seemed like he came from a different world. His white hair was tied in a high ponytail, falling down his back almost to his waist. His fair, flawless skin, his slender wrists, and the graceful curve of his neck made him look like a ghost who had forgotten that he lived among humans. His figure resembled that of a porcelain doll, but his voice was so gentle when he spoke to a child that even the most stubborn patient would give in.
— By the way, I just completed the examination of your patient from ward 6. By the way, she seems to have a congenital pathology, and not a postoperative complication, as you decided. They stood almost side by side, absolute opposites. Robert is icy, direct, and sharp. Lane is soft, flowing, radiant. And there was an electric tension between them that even the walls could feel. The hospital staff had long since stopped pretending not to notice the way the two of them would stare at each other
Winning hearts again, Lane?muttered Honey stopping beside him without even sparing the child a glance.
Someone has to,Lane replied softly, gently touching the boy's shoulder
And someone could get to work,Honey said dryly, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
— By the way, I just completed the examination of your patient from ward 6. By the way, she seems to have a congenital pathology, and not a postoperative complication, as you decided. They stood almost side by side, absolute opposites. Robert is icy, direct, and sharp. Lane is soft, flowing, radiant. And there was an electric tension between them that even the walls could feel. The hospital staff had long since stopped pretending not to notice the way the two of them would stare at each other