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When Dennis learned that he was pregnant, it was one of the happiest moments of his life. He had just graduated medical school and became a resident at PTMC. Robby, surprising him, had asked him out right after his first shift, and Dennis had genuinely never been happier. They went to a small, intimate Italian restaurant near the hospital. The lights were dim, the tables spaced far enough apart that it felt like they were the only two people in the room.
Robby refused to let him worry about prices and even ordered the dish Dennis had been considering before he could second-guess himself and choose something cheaper. The food was incredible, the conversation flowed easily, and by the end of the night Dennis gushed for so long that Trinity practically had to lock him in his room just so she could get some sleep.
Their relationship had its ups and downs, like any other. Working together caused occasional strain that they had to learn how to navigate, but they always figured it out. The biggest challenge was Robby’s mental health. He would spiral at least three times a month, leaving Dennis to pick up the pieces. Dennis didn’t mind, at least not most of the time, but his own mental health could only take so much.
It wasn’t until Dennis broke down for the first time, overwhelmed and terrified as Robby showed signs of yet another spiral, that Robby finally sought therapy. He started wearing his helmet when he rode his bike, learned coping mechanisms, and picked up a few new hobbies. Things got better, so much better. How could Dennis not fall madly in love with him?
After almost two years of dating, they got married.
It was perfect. Robby wore a black suit while Dennis wore white. Jack and Trinity served as best man and maid of honor, which worked out perfectly since both grooms worked themselves into a nervous mess while getting ready, and their best friends were right there to reassure them.
They laughed and cried through their vows, both speaking about finding someone who loved them despite their flaws, someone they could trust implicitly. They weren’t the only ones crying. None of their friends would ever admit it, but the wedding video told no lies.
Life stayed easy. So easy that maybe they should have worried, but they never did. They wanted the same things, they were deeply in love, and their arguments were easily resolved. So Dennis was absolutely ecstatic when he learned that he was pregnant.
They had spent months talking about kids and agreed to try for at least one. Dennis even went off testosterone to increase their chances. Actually getting pregnant felt like the best-case scenario. The only downside was how busy they both were, and Dennis couldn’t find the right moment to tell Robby.
It wasn’t something he could say in passing. It needed time, conversation, and a proper reveal. So he waited.
He waited so long that he ended up driving himself to a local Planned Parenthood, bleeding and cramping, just to avoid PTMC. Just to avoid Robby.
Dennis broke down alone as an employee gently told him he was miscarrying. He clutched his stomach as they explained his options and treatment methods. He barely remembered telling them not to call his husband. It was instinct, a need to shield Robby from grief, especially when he hadn’t even known about the pregnancy.
The time between leaving the clinic and driving home was a blur. Somewhere along the way, Dennis decided it would be best if he never told Robby at all. They could keep trying, and Robby would think the next pregnancy was the first. He stopped at a car wash to scrub the blood from the driver’s seat, changed into a spare set of clothes from the backseat that he kept forgetting to bring inside, and threw his ruined pants and boxers into a random trash can before finally heading home.
Robby still wasn’t home when Dennis finally trudged through the front door, so he showered, cried a little more, and ordered dinner. By the time Robby got home, Dennis thought he was ready to pretend everything was fine.
He wasn’t.
He could barely look at Robby without feeling nauseous, so he kept his distance. It felt selfish. Robby came home looking horrible. Dennis could tell that he’d had a rough day without him needing to say anything and he knew that he should take the time to comfort him. But he couldn’t. Instead he stayed silent while Robby suffered silently beside him, the guilt of the whole day weighing heavily on his shoulders.
That was the first night they ever went to bed facing opposite directions. Robby couldn’t bring himself to pull Dennis into his chest after he was iced out like that and Dennis couldn’t even consider bridging that gap between them without wanting to break down into tears again.
“You were acting kind of off last night, Den,” Robby begins gently the next morning. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Dennis feels like his whole world is crumbling around him, leaving him lost and unsure of how to keep on moving forward. “Just… not feeling great,” he says after a pause that feels far too long.
“Maybe you should call in,” Robby suggests. He doesn’t want to push him too hard and risk having Dennis isolate himself even further. “I don’t want you making yourself worse.”
Dennis nods, anything he could even consider saying in response getting stuck in his throat. Robby is being so kind and thoughtful even after Dennis refused to even look at him the night before. Nothing Dennis could say would be enough.
The weeks that follow are much of the same. Dennis steadily grows more distant and his guilt and self blame deepens. He begins to over analyze every little thing that he did leading up to his miscarriage, searching for some sort of explanation that — logically — he knows that he won’t ever find. Robby grows more worried as he watches his husband spiral deeper and deeper into the pits of his own grief but can’t identify what the problem is if Dennis won’t talk.
He doesn’t push. He’s terrified that all he’ll do is push Dennis away. So he decides to be patient. He lets Dennis snap at him, he lets their sex life fizzle away to nothing. He had put Dennis through months of his own mental health problems before finally getting help. He was a horrible partner during those few months so he felt like being patient with Dennis was all he could do.
It was manageable. He was managing it.
At least, that’s what Robby told himself.
It wasn’t until Dennis started snapping at students and interns over trivial mistakes that Robby realized something was truly wrong. At first, he talked to Dennis gently, reminding him they were still learning and that he was being too harsh. Dennis seemed remorseful. He promised to be more patient and to remember that he was once in their shoes and didn’t do much better.
Everything shattered when Dennis yelled at a student in front of a patient. She ran off sobbing, and Robby couldn’t ignore it anymore. He steered Dennis toward the stairwell, his hand firm on his shoulder. Before they even reached the top, Dennis was crying, silent tears streaming down his face. He had only allowed himself two days to grieve before burying everything again.
“What the hell is going on with you lately?” Robby demanded, too heated to notice the tears staining Dennis’s cheeks. “You are not acting like the man I fell in love with, and I need to know why.”
Dennis tried to speak, but Robby cut him off with a raised hand. “I thought things were good between us. We were trying for a baby, and you just stopped caring. You’re not affectionate, and now you’re yelling at med students. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
The tirade ended with a soft, broken sob.
Robby froze as Dennis’s face crumpled and his attempts to stifle his crying failed completely. He trembled like he might collapse at any moment. Without thinking, Robby pulled him into his arms and sat them both down on the roof.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Robby coaxed, his voice soft now as he held Dennis in his lap. “Please, sweetheart. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
Dennis couldn’t speak. His crying escalated into full sobs and gasping breaths, and Robby fought the urge to panic. He had never seen Dennis like this, never heard that kind of break in his voice. He held him, desperately trying to remember everything his therapist had taught him.
Dennis clutched at Robby’s scrubs like he was afraid he would disappear. All Robby could do was stay.
“Breathe with me, Den,” Robby murmured, tucking Dennis’s head against his chest so he could feel each exaggerated inhale and exhale. “Come back to me, sweetheart.”
Robby wished desperately for a lemon or an ice cube, anything to shock Dennis’s system, but he knew it was better to let him work through it.
Dennis’s ears rang as he cried, his chest tight and uncooperative. Slowly, his breathing began to match Robby’s. His sobs softened into sniffles and hiccuping breaths. Robby cupped his face, wiping away tears with his thumbs.
“Talk to me,” he said gently and Dennis shook his head, his face buried in Robby’s scrubs.
“You might not want to,” Robby continued softly, “but you can’t keep hurting yourself like this.”
“I miscarried,” Dennis said finally, the word tearing out of him. “I didn’t even get the chance to tell you I was pregnant. I didn’t want you to mourn something you didn’t even know about.”
Robby didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just held Dennis tighter, one hand warm and steady against his back, the other gently threading through his hair. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “It mattered,” he said quietly. “The baby mattered. Even if I didn’t know yet.” Dennis’s breath hitched.
“It was real,” Robby continued, swallowing hard. “And losing it hurts me too.” A broken sound tore out of Dennis, something halfway between a sob and a breath of relief, as he finally leaned fully into Robby. Robby held him there, pressing a kiss into his hair. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore,” he murmured. They stayed like that on the roof, clinging to each other while the world kept moving around them, grieving the same loss together.