ep 5

(Police Officer x Doctor, Slow Burn, Taking the Next Step)

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Leo and Cole had settled into something unspoken but steady. It wasn’t labeled, wasn’t defined—but it was there, real and undeniable.

Nights spent together had become more frequent, whether it was a quiet dinner, a walk in the park, or just falling asleep on the couch after long shifts. It was comfortable. It was easy. But beneath that ease, Leo could sense something deeper lurking in Cole—something he wasn’t quite ready to talk about yet.

And Leo was patient. He’d wait.

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One evening, after an exhausting shift at the ER, Leo arrived home to find Cole already waiting outside his apartment, leaning against his motorcycle. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was evident.

“Cole?” Leo frowned, stepping closer. “What are you doing here? You didn’t text.”

Cole let out a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I just... I needed to see you.”

Leo’s concern deepened. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, Cole didn’t answer. Then, finally, he muttered, “Long day.”

Leo recognized the tone. He had heard it before, from trauma patients, from overworked colleagues—people holding onto something heavy but unsure how to let it go.

Without a word, Leo reached for Cole’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Come inside.”

Cole hesitated but followed.

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Inside the apartment, Leo handed Cole a glass of water before sitting beside him on the couch. The silence between them was thick, but Leo didn’t push. He knew better than to force Cole into talking.

After a few moments, Cole let out a long sigh. “There was a call today. A domestic situation. When we got there, it was too late.” His voice was tight, restrained. “A kid—barely eight years old—tried to protect his mom. He didn’t make it.”

Leo’s heart clenched. He reached out, resting a comforting hand on Cole’s knee. “I’m so sorry.”

Cole swallowed, his jaw clenched. “I see things like this all the time, Leo. I should be used to it by now.”

“No,” Leo said softly. “You shouldn’t.”

Cole’s eyes flickered toward him, searching.

Leo continued, his voice steady. “You’re not supposed to get used to it. If you did, you wouldn’t be the kind of person who cares. And you do, Cole. That’s what makes you different.”

Cole exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just... I needed to be here. With you.” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Because when I’m with you, it feels easier to breathe.”

Leo’s chest tightened. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled Cole into his arms. The embrace wasn’t just comfort—it was grounding, an anchor in the storm Cole was caught in.

Cole stiffened for half a second before melting into him, his arms wrapping tightly around Leo, his face buried against his shoulder. Leo held him, running his fingers slowly through Cole’s hair, offering the only solace he could.

“I’ve got you,” Leo whispered. “I’m right here.”

They stayed like that for a long time, neither speaking, just holding onto each other.

Eventually, Cole pulled back slightly, his gaze locked onto Leo’s. Something unspoken passed between them, something neither of them needed to say out loud.

And then, Cole kissed him.

It wasn’t desperate, wasn’t rushed. It was slow, lingering—like Cole was trying to memorize every second of it, trying to find something solid in the chaos of his mind.

Leo kissed back just as gently, cupping Cole’s face, reassuring him in the only way he knew how.

When they parted, Cole rested his forehead against Leo’s, his breath uneven. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Leo smiled softly, brushing his thumb over Cole’s cheek. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”

Cole let out a quiet chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Good.”

Leo kissed him again, slower this time. “Stay the night,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be alone.”

Cole hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

And as they settled onto the couch together, Leo holding Cole close, he realized something.

This wasn’t just companionship. It wasn’t just comfort.

It was something real.

And maybe—just maybe—it was love.

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To be continued......