Chapter 9 – The Door
Bellevue Hospital, Cardiothoracic Call Room – 02:36 a.m.
Leo stands in front of the unmarked gray door for twenty-three minutes.
He counts every second.
02:13 – He arrives, heart jack-hammering so hard he swears the motion sensor light flickers in rhythm.
02:17 – He raises his fist, then lowers it.
02:19 – He wipes his palms on his scrub pants three times.
02:25 – He whispers "fuck" so many times it stops sounding like a word.
02:29 – He thinks about turning around.
02:31 – He thinks about Asher's hug, River's calm voice, Ezra's stupid grin.
02:34 – He thinks about Matteo's hands inside an open chest, steady and sure, and how those same hands might feel on his skin.
02:36 – He knocks. Once. Soft.
The door opens almost immediately.
Matteo is barefoot, wearing only loose gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that clings to places Leo has been trying not to stare at for ten days. His hair is messy, eyes tired, but when he sees Leo every line of exhaustion vanishes.
He doesn't speak. Just steps aside.
Leo walks in.
The room is tiny: one narrow bed, a desk buried in journals, a single lamp casting gold light. It smells like coffee, antiseptic, and something warm that is just Matteo.
Matteo closes the door. The click is deafening.
Leo stands in the middle of the floor, arms wrapped around himself like he might fly apart.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he blurts out.
"I know," Matteo says quietly.
"I'm not… I've never… I told you I'm not—"
"I heard you." Matteo's voice is gentle. "You don't have to label anything tonight. You just have to be honest."
Leo's eyes burn. "I'm scared."
"I know that too."
Silence stretches, thick and trembling.
Matteo takes one careful step closer. "Look at me."
Leo does.
Matteo's gaze is steady, patient, terrifyingly kind.
"I'm going to ask you one question," Matteo says. "And you can say no and we'll pretend this never happened. Or you can say yes and we figure the rest out together. No pressure. No rank. Just us."
Leo's throat works. "Ask."
Matteo's voice drops to almost a whisper.
"Can I kiss you?"
The world narrows to that single sentence.
Leo's heart stops, then restarts twice as fast.
He thinks of his parents' church.
He thinks of the way Matteo looked at him over an open chest.
He thinks of his friends waiting in the crypt with stolen fries and terrible jokes.
He nods. Barely.
Matteo closes the distance in two slow steps (slow enough that Leo can change his mind a thousand times).
He doesn't.
Matteo cups Leo's jaw with one careful hand, thumb brushing the corner of Leo's mouth like he's asking permission again.
Leo leans in first.
The kiss is soft. Barely there. Just lips, warm and dry and trembling. Matteo tastes like coffee and something sweet. Leo's hands come up without permission, fisting in Matteo's T-shirt like he'll fall if he lets go.
It lasts four seconds. Maybe five.
Matteo pulls back first, just far enough to rest their foreheads together.
Leo is shaking so hard his teeth chatter.
Matteo's voice is rough. "Still with me?"
Leo laughs (wet, shocked, alive). "Yeah. Holy shit. Yeah."
Matteo smiles against his mouth. "Good."
Another kiss (longer this time, deeper, until Leo forgets how to breathe and has to break away gasping).
Matteo doesn't push. Just holds him, hands steady on Leo's waist, letting him set every boundary.
After a minute (or ten) Leo hides his face in Matteo's neck.
"I'm still scared," he mumbles into warm skin.
"I've got you," Matteo whispers back. "We'll be scared together."
They end up on the narrow call-room bed, fully clothed, Leo curled against Matteo's chest like a question finally getting its answer.
Leo falls asleep to the sound of Matteo's heartbeat (strong, steady, real).
At 05:12 a.m. his pager goes off.
He ignores it.
For the first time since July 1st, the world can wait.