Emergency Room

by hummelssmythe

When you enter a veterinary clinic, you expect to find a tense atmosphere, just like a hospital emergency room. Everything is different if the vet turns out to be a certain Dr. Colfer. (Colfin RPF)

Ship: Chris/Grant.

Rating: Eventual NC-17.

Summary: When you enter a veterinary clinic, you expect to find a tense atmosphere, just like a hospital emergency room. Everything is different if the vet turns out to be a certain Dr. Colfer.

Author's Note: I think I'll have to give you a few warnings more than I usually do, with this story. It's a RPF. I tried to make it work as a Kurtbastian, but I couldn't really pic Sebastian taking his dog to the vet for some reasons lol so I've preferred writing it as a Colfin. If something ever happened to this story, it's also posted on my livejournal. There is mention of real people into the fic but I try to keep it as small as I can. I'd obviously say Grant and Chris are OOCs because I don't know them in real life, so I can't know about their personality. I didn't mean to disrespect anyone with this story, it's just for fun. Grant and Chris aren't dating in real life – sadly.

Sorry if I bothered you with all this stuff tho. Leave me a tiny comment to let me know what you think about it! – xoxo

Ps – there might be a few mistake, but it's late here and I can't fix them anymore, sorry guys if you find any :3

/

Chapter 1 Emergency

"Don't you think you should take Jett to the vet?"

Your mother comes out from the column, making you startle just as your hand rests on the door-handle. You were trying to open the door to go for a little jog, and instead you find yourself scowling at her.

"Why?" You ask immediately, you just love Jett.

"He's been lying on the floor all day." She tells you, rubbing a piece of clean cloth on a shiny plate and shrugging. "He's always so playful ..."

You arch your eyebrows.

"Maybe he's tired." You suggest. "He's always messing around. He could be tired too, just like a person, don't you think?"

Your mother looks at you that way, with a stern look, and you know that you're being a bit rude.

You sigh and then you turn a bit towards her with your body.

"Sorry." You whisper and she nods. "He doesn't look like he's not fine and I'm going jogging. Tyler could take him." You suggest.

"I don't even know where your brother is."

You sigh a little: you just hate it that your brother always disappears when you need support or help. You find yourself having to resolve everything alone and it's really frustrating. But you love him so much and you'd just forgive him anything.

"Can I go jogging first?" You ask and you can't help but feel a bit stupid at the idea that even if you're twenty-two, you still have to ask for your mother's permission to go jogging. Seriously?

She sighs and looks at you, a bit unpleased.

"Okay, but don't forget it later. Jett's like another baby, he's part of the family." She looks at you, pleading eyes, the ones you just can't say no to. "Gracie is always with him when she is sad ..."

"Okay, Mom, okay." You laugh, interrupting her because you know that if you don't, she's going to start a long list of things that include your love for Jett. "I'll take him as soon as I get back, but I really need my daily sprint hour."

Your mom rolls her eyes but eventually and surprisingly, she seems to give up.

Then you wear one of your most joyful smiles and, without further adieus - you never know what might happen in your house – you walk out of the door and close it behind your back.

You already start walking fast along the cobblestone pass outside your house, checking on your breath. Remember: breathe in through your nose and then exhale deeply from your mouth.

You feel ready now.

You need a little time with yourself.

Your life is at point it feels all wrong and you don't even know why.

You have a wonderful girl who loves you - sweet and sexy at the same time, funny and tender - and a fantastic family. West Side Story couldn't turn to be any better: it's just the beginning and it's your first role on scene, but you feel like you're doing pretty cool. High school is over and in a holiday time like this, you just feel free to do whatever you want with your spare time.

But you can't.

There is something in your head, something intense and unsettling, but still too confused to be completely understood.

Everything is so damn okay in your life that you do not know what could possibly be wrong.

Yet it's there.

Inside you.

In your head.

It's been a couple of weeks since you've started to feel this way and you can't figure it out all clearly, but maybe there's something inside you that's resigning and accepting a defeat you aren't even able to understand.

You're starting to think that maybe that's just the way it feels when you grow up. You're twenty-two, so you're definitely an adult with all the boring responsibilities that come with it; maybe it is the lack of that happy-go-lucky adolescence that saddens you.

You know it's a common and banal way of thinking but it's also the easiest way to resign with a little dignity, if you truly must do it.

Today jogging isn't a distraction yet.

You feel as if you were using this time to think about it. In the end, you have a little need for that. With these family dinners, Hannah and Brittany always buzzing around you, and your brother that proposes absurd tours around the coast, you feel as if you're not having time for yourself anymore.

Maybe you're satisfying an important part of you - singing, acting, dancing - but it's as if the other half of Thomas Grant Gustin is stuck somewhere, unable to walk beside the rest of your life.

Maybe you're thinking too much. Maybe you should simply run.

You begin to do it then and it's not so bad: you free your mind of all thoughts and curse yourself for having forgotten the iPod. A little music would surely have made everything perfect.

You walk across the sidewalk with a well-marked rhythm, narrowing your eyes from time to time when the morning breeze hits you in the face and caresses the skin of your neck, causing a nice chill at the way cold hits the warm drops of sweat along the column.

You like throwing everything out like this.

It's an amazing feeling, just being a little alone, without having even carried a cell phone. You are isolated from the world right now, and sometimes it might be good for you.

You're glad that you didn't let your mom convince you to quit jogging this morning.

You make your way across the main park of Clovis, California, inhaling immediately the beautiful natural air of the city. You like Clovis better than Virginia, but it's not an objective matter maybe, because you feel a bit like those people who only want to say that what's new it's nice too. It may be childish, but it makes you smile while you run, run, run, and have no intentions of stopping.

If it were for you and it didn't depend from physiological issues, you'd never stop for the way it's making you feel. You're free, you're happy and you know it won't last long before you go back to the weird anxiety that it's been invading you for a while, mysteriously.

You keep running without any restrains, with no limits, until you begin to feel that your breathing is getting heavy and complicated, and that makes your realize that maybe you need a break. Maybe you haven't run for too long now, but you can do it again after you've relaxed a bit.

You reach the huge gazebo in the center of the park, jogging slower.

When you're there, you let yourself fall on the cold floor, laying down on the marble and closing his eyes. With your back on the solid material, you can still feel good and breathe heavily, feeling your chest inflating and deflating in a way that almost stings and makes you want to laugh.

You feel like one of those people you see running in the movies, the ones that don't put any limits on it.

Maybe you should live your life a little more - without any excess, you just hate excesses - instead of thinking that it's already over, taking for granted that you'll marry your girlfriend in a couple of years and that you'll be living in a lovely house in the neighborhood.

Maybe this is what you need: new ambitions.

You should begin to treat your dreams as such and not something that is already coming to an end, right? Maybe.

"It looks like someone stepped on you." A voice murmurs happily at your side and you recognize it immediately.

You don't even open your eyes, you just smile there, stretched and relaxed.

"I've run a lot." You reply vaguely and she giggles at your side. "You should know something about it, because when you're jogging, you're kinda unstoppable."

She's funniest person in the world, you're sure about it.

Since you've moved to Clovis, Heather is the person you feel the closest to you.

"Yes, but I didn't end up throwing myself on the ground of a park. I still have some dignity when I jog."

You open your eyes and you turn a bit towards her, looking at the amused smile on her face as you notice the way she is sitting next to you, with her legs apart and hands on the floor, arms on the sides.

"And what is it that you're doing now, exactly?" You ask, laughing a little.

Your laughter feels like a completely different thing when you breathe harshly and there is a light breeze that caresses your skin right now. You actually feel more alive now that you haven't felt like in the last weeks.

"I'm making fun of you." Heather laughs the same way. "I thought if people will see me here too, they won't call for an ambulance or the asylum."

"Very funny."

"In fact, I'm a little worried." Her voice captures the attention of your eyes again and you watch her while Heather seems to be looking at the sky with her eyes.

"About what?" You ask, lightly.

"You."

You arch your eyebrows immediately. Damn, Heather knows you so well that you have been a fool to hope that she wouldn't notice. She's the only person who can see this little change in you.

The thought makes you swallow a bit nervously because you weren't expecting it today. Maybe you're not ready for a discussion about it.

You feel tired and dry.

"I'm fine." You try.

"I didn't say the opposite though." Brittany shows you a satisfied grin, as if she wants to make you understand that you've just made a mistake.

Shit.

How is it possible that every time you try to hide your thoughts, you always end up revealing them easily? You're a real idiot.

"I wanted to make it clear." You try to fix it again, but it sounds stupid even to your own ears now that you've already taken the first false step. "Just in case you were doubting it."

"Mm-mh." Heather seems to be unconvinced, and this time you can't blame her: your skills as an actor have abandoned you when need them the most.

They often do it actually.

You can't lie if you aren't on a stage.

"Hey, seriously, I'm fine." You puff and stare at the ceiling of the small dome of the gazebo instead of staring at the sky, but you're not really paying attention to it.

You just hope that Heather decides to take her eyes away from your face because you feel spied like never before. It's like if these blue eyes can see inside of you. They are probably the most beautiful you've ever seen.

"I'm not going to believe you." Heather laughs and stretches to slap your shoulder.

If it weren't for Hannah, you'd be totally attracted to her.

Maybe you are, but you have common sense and you're not the type of person that gets sentimental in this mess, the first thing your family has taught you is respecting the ones you love. You definitely love Hannah, enough to feel uncomfortable with the idea of being attracted to Heather and her fantastic world.

That's why she's your friend, and she'll never be more than that.

You respect the ones you love.

You respect Hannah.

"It's not my problem if you're not going to believe the truth." You answer, but she shows you a skeptical look. "Really, I'm fine."

"If you say that another fifty times maybe I could vaguely consider the idea of starting to believe. A little." She answers and you can't hold back a laugh.

Before you can notice, you've let something out in the laughter: it is fun, yes, but there's something, a small tinge of nostalgia running through it. It's a melancholic sound and you know that she's not going to miss it, so you try to anticipate her.

"C'mon, what could ever be so wrong with me?" You ask, and maybe it's a way to explain it to yourself. Maybe it's going inadvertently to suggest you something that you haven't thought of yet.

"Well, knowing you, you probably don't feel satisfied with what you're doing now." Heather explains simply, looking up as if she needs to think. "Maybe you're giving up a little too early and settling yourself down. I mean, look at your funniest hobby: it's jogging."

It's pretty damn strange to see that she knows you well enough to understand exactly what's on your mind. You don't even know if this is exactly your point of view too. Maybe she's only trying to explain everything from yours so that she can help you understand it.

"What about West Side Story?" You ask and she gazes down to you, looking as if she can't believe that you've really asked her.

Maybe it's just that you're asking too much and she's getting tired and bored. From the look she throws at you, she seems to understand that you're also a bit confused.

"It's fun and you really like it. That's what you love doing, but not like this." She says, and looks back at the sky. "You have dreamed of touching the sky and now you're with your feet planted on the ground. It must suck."

You feel a bit as if she is also talking about her … but she isn't, right? You're are talking about you, so maybe you don't have to read anything personal in her words. However, you just can't help but agree because she has completely got what must be going through your mind.

"It sucks, it's true." You agree and sigh. "But it's not going to last forever, is it?" You turn a bit towards her. "I have a wonderful family, a wonderful girlfriend, and a best friend that can read my mind. My life couldn't get any better, right?"

Heather scowls and looks at you again, with a face that makes you realize that she doesn't believe a word of you're saying.

So, isn't it going to chance?

Is that what she's trying to tell you?

You'll be stuck in a state of apathy forever, unable to find something that encourages you to feel alive and that is not just a run in the park? Because you can't run forever, and you are looking for something that makes you feel better stably and indefinitely.

"Maybe it's just temporary, who knows?" She answers weakly and shrugs, and then you sigh.

"I think I've gotta go: Mom wants me to take Jett to the vet."

Your words have to get Heather's attention because now she's looking at you now, smiling while swinging on herself - one of these gestures that she always makes when she's happy about the topic.

"I know one, he's great!" She says adorably and she has a small light in his eyes as she tells you. "He's the sweetest and he loves animals so much, you have no idea. I've brought both Zack and Jenny and they didn't even complain not even during injections!"

You laugh and you would roll on the floor for the funny she's telling you. It's so engaging, as always, that makes you really wanna go to this vet, even if you don't know him. You trust her, at least, so you know that not bringing Jett there would make you a total idiot.

"I guess all vets should love animals, Heather." You mock her a bit and she shakes her head.

"You don't understand, he loves them, loves them really, it's crazy!" She almost screams, waving her hands in the air, as if she's telling you the news of the century. "They're his life, it's not like the others, they just take care of pets."

"So why don't you take me to him later? Since you already know where it is ..." He proposes innocently and she shakes her head.

"I can't. Gotta dance this afternoon." She explains and you know that by 'dance', she means that she has to give dance lessons. You've seen her dancing a few times, and she's very good.

You wonder for a few seconds if teaching dance is part of that speech about feeling fully satisfied with your own life. Maybe Heather had to model her dreams to fit in Clovis too.

"So do I have to go there all alone?" You ask, wrinkling his lower lip, but you know it won't be useful: there is no way to convince her to skip the dance classes.

"I would say so, but believe me, you'll like it!" She exclaims happily and you just believe that she's sincere. "He'll put you at ease, he's a nice guy; a bit weird but nice."

"Weird?" You ask then, giggling. If Heather Morris says that someone is weird, wow, you must believe it.

"Yeah, well, he likes making silly jokes and strange things like that, but he's really adorable. He makes me wanna cuddle him." She says and swings a little at the thought. "He seems like he's made to be cuddled, so I hope to know him enough, so he'll let me do it."

You laugh, imagining what kind of man he might be. Maybe he's short and cute, and maybe even a little overweight, so that he can be included within the canons of whom Heather might want to embrace. Maybe his hair is a bit dark and he has mustache and round glasses or something. The description convinces you enough, so much so that you begin to believe and take for granted that this is so.

"Do I have to bring your goodbyes?" He asks. "So maybe if you act nice, he's going to let you cuddle him."

"It's awesome!" She replies. "But we already know each other enough, I went there a lot of times, so I can also be nice by myself, you know?" She giggles, reaching out a hand to strike him on the shoulder. "Be nice for yourself instead."

"For myself?" You ask laughing. "I already have my girlfriend and my best friend to cuddle. And then there's Jett."

"Yeah, well, okay." Heather turns her eyes at how picky you can be at times. You're aware of that. "That's not the point anyway. Say hello and then let me know how it has gone. I bet you'll like him so much!"

"I don't like boys." Grant says serious.

"Of course not." She says. "You like dogs, videogames and music."

You feel like you have to somehow specify that you also love people, but you let it go: maybe you don't.

"Yeah." You nod then. "I like them a lot."

/

You've barely just set your feet in the house and your mother is already walking behind you to remind you to go to the vet. You've said that in any case you should get a shower first, since you have been jogging. Eventually she seems to agree and she lets go.

It doesn't take you too much; maybe it does, because when you come into the living room, looking for Jett, you see him lazily laying on the floor, snorting. It's strange because he always wants to play in the morning and he jumps around unstoppably.

Maybe he's really feeling bad.

Maybe you should hurry.

You're already beginning to feel panic for how much you love this little white buddy.

You hurry to pick him up and he's not even sliding like an eel from your hands, as he usually does, then the panic in your chest increases because you know that if something is going to happen, your conscience is going to be dirty for life.

You didn't postpone a stupid jogging session to bring your dog – the one you love to death – to the vet.

You walk with Jett in your arms then, moving awkwardly around the house when you have to open the door and, again, when you have to close it. It's not so simple usng one hand.

You walk at fast to the garage, sliding through the side door and you get into dad's Ford – he certainly won't complain because it's about Jett: no one would ever complain – making Jett lay on the passenger seat.

He looks at you with his dark eyes, tilting his head, as he always does when he is confused. He looks like if he's asking you where are you going and why he's in the car when he was comfortably lying on his pad with name sewn just a few seconds ago.

"Don't worry, Jett." You explain and then stretch out a hand to stroke his head, smiling as he laps your palm, looking at you with frightened eyes. "It's just a little check up, I promise."

Jett pulls his head back and lies down on the seat.

You sigh now, because Jett is always so cheerful in the car, always wants to look out the window. But now he's just lying and he's acting indifferent, and you begin to wonder if you shouldn't have noticed some mood swings before your mother told you.

You spend your car trip to cursing yourself because you never listen to your mother and you're at least pleased that Clovis is not a very busy city because if you got stuck in traffic, you would have really gone crazy by now.

Eventually, when you get to the road that Heather has told you, you give a last look at the navigator on dashboard and you start wandering down the avenue searching for a vet clinic or something that can look like it.

Nothing.

You turn and drive along the street again again, but you're starting to get anxious: Jett fell asleep next to you, he's snoring. You've never seen him so quiet and weak, and would like to give headshots to the steering seriously.

In the end, you can catch a glimpse of a golden plate on the ground floor of a building and you don't hesitate to pull over first. You must anticipate an idiot who wanted to park, but you don't think you're doing it wrong: for once, it's for a good reason.

You turn off the car and you're walking around, and you can swear you're starting to sweat in panic and guilt. Get to the other door and opened it, taking Jett in his arms and closing with a side as you approach the entrance of the building.

You check the labels on the handset and knock.

The door gets opened immediately and you shot, making space in the small lobby and turning towards the doors, following the number plates and looking at them.

You find it soon, luckily, and you're knocking on the door.

You open it and jump in, closing it with one foot while Jett twists and shifts a bit in your grip.

The hall seems to be empty, or at least there are no customers waiting, so you move to the door that might lead you to the vet. You're wrong, because beyond it there's an overweight girl eating chocolates on her desk. Judging by the phones on the table surface, she must be a secretary or something.

"Um ... excuse me?" You call her and she notices you, finally, swallowing down the chocolate in her mouth.

"You have a reservation, sir?" She asks and you feel your stomach tighten.

"N-no, no-no ... but he's feeling bad and-" You mumble in nonsense and she looks down Jett, lifting an eyebrow.

"Come in if it's an emergency."

You give her make a fast bow, muttering a few 'thank you's, and diving into the next room, closing the door behind your back. You're not even sure you did it, but you're in panic and have no idea what is happening.

However, once inside, you get stuck on the spot staring at the show going on in front of you.

"No, Ricky, stop it!" You hear a unique laughter, it's beautiful, it fills your ears. It's so contagious you're already smiling too, despite the Labrador sitting on the lap of the guy on the floor is blocking your view. "You're wetting me out, get down!"

You can't help it.

It's not like you're moving your feet, they do it all by themselves.

The voice you hear is extraordinary, it makes you curious.

Jett is still lazy in your arms and doesn't seem to provide different sings, however, you would be worried about it right now if you hadn't lost touch with reality.

You lean forward a bit and finally the Labrador seems to be tired because he's stopping, falling from his victim's body and sitting on the floor. He looks at you, tilting a little head, as dogs do when they are curious, and groans a little, begging to move his tail as if he wants to play with you.

"Why aren't you patting him already?" This beautiful and disturbing voice forces you to turn around suddenly.

The guy in front of you is probably the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

He's lying on the floor, resting slightly on his elbows, totally at ease with white tiles and cold. He's got a messed up clump that falls along his forehead, his head a little tilting on the side (maybe he spent so much time with dogs that is starting to become one of them) and he's looking straight into your eyes.

Your gaze falls on his lips briefly, just because you've noticed that he's smile, nothing else but that, really.

"Um?" It's all that you can pronounce and you feel pretty stupid all of a sudden.

"Why aren't you patting him?" The guy repeats and you turn around to the Labrador that is looking at you again, with anticipation "How can you resist such a puppy face?"

You turn to face him and you want to cry at what you see, and you don't even know why.

The boy has her lower lip out, folded, and a small light in his eyes that seems to say 'I'm judging you because you're not you're patting him'.

When these two stunning sapphires fall from your eyes to your chest, you seem to suddenly remember that you have brought your dog here.

"Is there something wrong?" He asks you, standing up and fixing his clothes along his body.

You just watch him while he brushes his hands on his torso abdomen, trying to clean up the narrow and dark sweatshirt she wears. You wonder if he shouldn't wear a hospital gown rather.

Maybe it's just a customer who's playing with his dog while he awaits or something.

"Are you dumb?" He asks, raising his head again and looking in your eyes.

You startle, maybe you've been staring too much?

"No, no." You point out and show him a sheepish smile while Jett begins to stir in your arms. "He's just ..."

Shit.

You have no idea how to justify the bad impression you're giving. Maybe there's just no way to justify it.

You're being pretty ridiculous in his eyes.

Fantastic.

"Something strange and different happened and you're worried, of course, it's completely normal." He anticipates you and you're fucking grateful that he's given you an excuse, really. You yourself couldn't find any better to justify yourself. "Why don't you place him on the plate there, I'll go bringing Ricky in the other room and then I'm all yours."

You nod, biting your lower lip while you look down to Jett shaking his tail between your arms.

Why is it with this 'I'm all yours' that is supposed to make you feel this strange feeling that you aren't able to describe?

It's starting to scare you, so you don't even try and look at him and you wait until he has moved away from this room before you approach the plate and place Jett slowly on it.

When resting his legs on the cold material, Jett lifts his eyes and looks at you curiously as if he's asking what's going on. You smile and pat him on the head meekly, before a voice makes you startle in the place.

"So, what?" He asks in such a particular tone, and you turn around toward him, still stunned when you see him coming.

Who the hell is this guy?

"I was hoping you could tell me, sir-"

You stop when you see the weird face he gives you, without even looking at you, his eyes focused on Jett as he approaches him.

"Ew, get that disgusting 'sir' away from your mouth immediately." He giggles and oh my God, his laugh is a thousand times worse than his normal voice, it's so freaking contagious. "I bet there aren't too many years between us ..." He says and begins to pat Jett, you have no idea why.

You're trying to convince yourself about the fact that he's not flirting with you.

Actually, you've never wanted a guy flirting with you and plus, he's a doctor, so you should stop thinking about stupid things like this. He's just trying to make you comfortable.

"I don't, hmm ... maybe?" You ask stupidly and it makes him laugh again, more and more.

Now he turns to you and looks at you incredulously, but amused.

"Maybe?" He asks and you make a face because you know you're being ridiculous. "You're really tense, you know? If you were a dog now I'd cuddle you to help you feeling at ease. "

You're blushing.

Why the hell are you blushing?

You feel an awkward burning sensation along your cheeks and you want to die for the way this boy is making you feel.

"N-no cuddles for humans?" You ask, stumbling between your words, and trying to sound ironic and confident, while watching Jett.

You know you're failing this stupid attempt.

When you look at him again, he's watching you as if you've just told the biggest nonsense in the history of humanity. The worst thing is that it's so contagious that you now think so.

"Humans are horrible." He looks at you and laughs, and you find yourself chuckling and you don't know why. "They do a lot of stupid things, like cheating, lying ... Puppies don't do these things." He tells you while he looks down on Jett and pets him with his fingertips on the head.

Jett seems to like this guy so much too.

Not as much as you like him, of course.

"Well, some humans-"

"No way." He stops and turns to you, without stop petting Jett. "Humans are all a mess."

He's smiling while he says it, then you think he's joking. Yet these blue eyes look so wonderful that make you understand that in part it's what he really thinks.

"Um would I be a mess too?" You ask, laughing, while you're thinking 'because you're not', and you call yourself an idiot mentally.

At least he's looking at you now.

Not that you care that he looks at you instead of Jett, of course.

You can't be jealous of your dog.

You can't be jealous of your dog because he's still petting at him.

"No, well, you're a customer." He shrugs and shows you a smile. "I can't tell customers that they suck, so, inevitably, you're not a human being."

You laugh at his joke and you're laughing really, not only because you want to laugh, to impress. Why would you want to impress a boy? It's absolutely ridiculous.

"So, if I'm not a human being, can you cuddle me?"

You're flirting.

Maybe you should start facing the facts: you're flirting.

He laughs anyway, thank goodness, and looks at you as if you're some kind of alien, or a clown, or both.

"No, well, you have a human shape." He justifies and wrinkles his nose to make fun of him. Something warms up in your chest and then he turns back to Jett, and suddenly he becomes serious. "So, what about this little guy?" He asks you, no more fooling around, professional and committed, while exploring a bit Jett's body, pressing with his fingers at some points.

You have no idea what he's doing.

"There's something strange." You begin, trying to look as serious as him, but you can't do it the same way.

You were joking until a few seconds ago so how could you manage that?

"What's his name?"

"What?" You ask, surprised by the question, as he turns a little toward you.

"What's-his-name?" He asks you in slow motion, showing you a smile that seems to be mocking you. "God, you're so weird."

You're the weird one? Seriously?

"His name's Jett." You answer, trying to ignore his joke.

"What about yours?" He asks you as he raises Jett's chin and looks in one eye first, then the other.

"Grant." It comes out of your mouth, but you've been tempted to say 'Thomas' for a few seconds.

He looks at you then, tilting his head a little, just like a curious puppy.

"I'm Chris." He replies and smiles. "But if you want, you can call me Colfer."

You take a few seconds to think about it, your face totally expressing how confused you are.

"Chris Colfer …?" You ask hesitantly.

"Chris Colfer." He says, confirming. "What's up with Jett?"

Once again you're jealous of your dog because he has repeated his name and you haven't heard how yours sounds like on his lips yet.

"He seems strange and lazy. He always plays; he's hyperactive when he's feeling okay." You sigh, a bit worried despite the weird feeling you're getting from what's happening, you're pretty upset.

Then silence falls around the room.

You just observe the next fifteen minutes while he takes care of Jett. The vet spoils stroking him through the visit and you can't do anything but watch fascinated. It's a unique delicacy and hr seems to take his work very seriously, despite his strange personality. You stare a bit at his face and swallow because there is something terribly charming in him and in his unique traits. It's a strange feeling to think of these things about a boy, but you've always been tolerant and respectful, so you won't have any problems with this: you're only expressing an objective thought.

You see different tools, but you have no idea what they are.

You don't care; you've now realized that you trust him enough. Moreover, he's the first vet that Jett doesn't try to bite with his small teeth and you've heard many stories about how dogs can recognize good people at first sight.

Eventually, when Chris Colfer has pulled off the last of this series of tools that you won't even know how to describe, you startle for the way in which the clink of steel shakes you from your silent contemplation.

"So," the boy puts his arms around and he cuddles him looking at you, almost like he's a child, "your puppy doesn't have anything, he's just tired." He says lightly.

"You've been checking on him for fifteen minutes." You notice, then he shrugs.

"A check-up is always a good thing." He tells you, smiling and he starts walking.

You follow him immediately.

You like following him.

He sits at his desk, leaning Jett on the surface of the table, and you sit on the opposite side.

"Maybe we should do a few more controls, just to be sure." He tells you while taking a notebook and you shrug, sitting in this comfortable red chair.

"I thought he was just tired." You mutter and he looks up at you.

For a few seconds you can read in his blue eyes that he's a bit saddened by the fact that you don't give any value to his words. It makes you feel sick to the stomach the thought that you are the cause of this stunned expression on his face, and you 'd want to fix it immediately.

He is already shifting away from the gaze, however, and checking something on the computer screen.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

Jett is walking quietly on the desk until he finds the right spot, he stretches and lays down.

"We should check if this laziness is prolonged in time." He explains, but he's not looking at you.

You hate it that that he's not looking at you.

You want him to look at you immediately.

"So do I have to come back?" You ask, and then you're successful in your goal because your tone has probably been so stupidly hopeful that even the vet has noticed, and he's staring at you curiously, as if he doesn't understand the reason for this hope in your voice.

"If it's not a problem for you." He tells you eventually, after a few seconds, but he's detached and is coming back with his eyes to the screen, and you don't want him to.

"No, it's not a problem, you seems a reliable person, sir." You mutter and he chuckles.

His crystalline laugh is a breath of relief this time and he finally looks at you again.

"Don't call me sir, Grant."

It's paradise.

The way he pronounces your name, giggling and looking into your eyes ... You want to know what's this thing you're feeling now to your stomach.

You want to know if it's right for you to feel this way. It can't be anything to worry about, right? So there is not even something for which you should begin to feel guilty towards your girlfriend, right?

Your stomach is only doing somersaults, it can happen, right?

"Okay ... Colfer." You add at the last seconds and he looks at you again.

Well, you're getting good at getting his attention.

"Wait. I didn't you could call me that because I wanted you to." He lifts his chin and looks amused. "I said it only because it's cool. I'm Colfer. Chris Colfer. "

You laugh spontaneously and it seems that all tensions are dissolved. You hope that it's so because you like it so much when he plays and ... No, you don't like. Get out of your head that you like it. He's a funny guy, that's all.

"So I can't call you Colfer?" You ask, and you know from your tone of voice you're flirting again. "I liked it ..."

"I was joking, Gast."

"Grant." You stare at him with a pout on your face as he looks back at the screen. He can't do it, can't misplace your name, he says it so good. The grin on his lips makes you think he did it on purpose.

You hope so.

"When should I come back?" You ask, hoping it will be as soon as possible. The thought of leaving this room is haunting and now you swear to yourself you're going to kill Heather for having recommended you to come here.

This is going to be the end of you.

"In a week." He says, looking at you and smiling, and you feel like dying.

What the hell is he smiling to when he just said you won't see him for seven days?

You can't survive seven days.

Jett is trying to get your attention, hitting your arm with his feet, but you just look at Colfer.

"Are you sure?" You ask, perhaps too brash. You're already so desperate that your can't hide it? "Well, we don't know what he has and-"

"He'll be fine, don't worry." He smiles and, seriously, if his face wasn't so beautiful, you'd want to punch him because he doesn't understand that this is a tragedy to you. However, a moment later, you simply melt. "Don't worry, Grant. And it's so sweet that you're worried about your dog."

On your face the most stupid of smiles appears and you find yourself in total peace with the universe in a miraculous way.

Colfer has his hands resting on the desk and he's looking at you smiling, as if he is happy that you care about Jett so much, and now he had a proof that you really care. He seems to be so proud of you that you'd only want to get up from this chair and ... no.

You're okay just sitting there.

You have to escape from this room.

You're going crazy.

It's absurd that you really thought what you did.

"Um. How much do I owe you?" You say quickly, swallowing and taking Jett in your arms, making sure not to do it abruptly, despite your shaking body.

"Nothing." He looks up to you and you see that he's a bit confused by your sudden haste. "It's just a visit, if we ever pass to tools and medicines - which I doubt, because Jett is fine - then we'll talk about it."

You barely mumble a low 'thank you' and greet with your hand: a moment later you're already disappearing, desperate to leave behind your back this stupid emergency room and not re-enter again.

You're lying to yourself clearly, because you're already counting the hours until next Wednesday.