Chapter 2: The Doctor’s a Weirdo (But a Nice One)

Chapter 2: The Doctor's a Weirdo (But a Nice One)

Waking up in a hospital was weird.

Waking up twice in a hospital was even weirder.

The first time, Bright barely processed anything beyond "Oh crap, I got shot" and the fact that Dr. Roland looked like he ran on coffee and pure exhaustion. The second time? Well, he was a little more awake. Which meant he was fully aware of how much everything freaking hurt.

His shoulder? Felt like someone stabbed a hot iron through it.

His back? Stiff from lying in the same position for too long.

His head? Empty. Because apparently, getting shot also stole his brain cells.

The only good thing? He wasn't dead.

So, you know. Silver lining.

Hospital Life Sucks

Bright spent the next few days in a cycle of boredom and pain.

Wake up.

Eat hospital food (which, by the way, made orphanage food seem like a five-star meal).

Get poked and prodded by nurses.

Sleep.

Repeat.

It was hell.

But the worst part? The silence.

No noisy kids. No Toby kicking the walls in his sleep. Just the constant beeping of machines and distant footsteps in the hallway.

It was lonely.

And Bright hated it.

Dr. Roland was the only person who actually talked to him.

At first, Bright thought the guy was kind of weird. He didn't talk like a normal doctor—too casual, too unbothered by everything.

Like today, for example.

"You look like crap," Dr. Roland said, dropping a file onto the bedside table.

Bright raised an eyebrow. "I got shot. What's your excuse?"

"Medical school."

"…Fair."

The doctor smirked, pulling up a chair. "You healing up alright?"

Bright shrugged. Instant regret. "Ow. Okay, not doing that again."

Dr. Roland chuckled. "Yeah, you might want to avoid sudden movements. Or, you know, getting shot again."

"Noted."

Roland flipped through the file, scanning over whatever doctor stuff was written in there. "You've been here for a week. The stitches are holding up, no infections. Shouldn't be long before you're discharged."

Bright blinked. "Wait—a week?"

Dr. Roland gave him a look. "You were unconscious for three days, kid. Your body needed time to recover."

Three days? No wonder everything felt off. It was like he had a time skip in his own life.

He hesitated before asking, "So… what happens to me after I leave?"

Because the orphanage was gone. His home was gone.

Dr. Roland was silent for a moment. Then, he sighed. "Well… social services will probably set you up in a different orphanage."

Right. Back to square one.

Bright stared at the ceiling. "Awesome."

Roland didn't say anything for a bit. Then—

"…Or."

Bright glanced at him. "Or?"

The doctor leaned back, arms crossed. "I could take you in."

Silence.

Bright's brain short-circuited. "You… what?"

Roland shrugged like it was no big deal. "I've been thinking about it. You've got nowhere to go, and I could use the company. My place is pretty quiet."

Bright squinted at him. "That's not a normal reason to adopt a kid."

Roland smirked. "Neither is getting shot to save someone else, but here we are."

…Touche.

Bright didn't say yes immediately. Because who just adopts a kid out of nowhere?

But Dr. Roland wasn't just anyone.

He visited every day, bringing books, snacks (actual food, not hospital cardboard), and even a freaking portable game console when he realized Bright was going insane from boredom.

"You're spoiling me," Bright muttered one day, munching on a bag of chips.

Roland didn't even look up from his paperwork. "You're a kid who got shot. I think you deserve some chips."

"…Fair."

The guy was genuinely cool.

And when the day came for Bright to be discharged, he found himself hesitating.

Social services had already arranged for him to go to another orphanage. A new place, new people, new uncertainty.

But then there was Roland.

The doctor who saved his life. Who didn't treat him like some fragile thing that needed pity. Who actually wanted him around.

So, when the social worker asked where he wanted to go, Bright took a deep breath and made his choice.

"…I'll go with him."

Dr. Roland grinned. "Good choice, kid."

And just like that, Bright got a new home.

He had no idea what he was getting into.

But for the first time in a long time… he felt like things might actually be okay.

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