When our practice stood finished, a cream brick building with black details and a garden that also held a road for arriving and departing ambulances, we were three doctors and five nurses strong. We were a dream team, and had trained together for two weeks and now had one week left before we opened up for arriving patients.

But we still needed to hire one more nurse.

The five we had so far were all meticulously chosen by me and Catherine to create a good working environment, and so far, we've been very happy with our choices. There was Belinda, a forty-something from Jamaica whose sass and good spirits would work wonders to keep patients calm. There was young Brian, who was twenty-one and had just graduated nursing school in England. There was robust Melissa, who lifted weights and lived with her wife close-by. There was stern and frightfully intelligent Johan from Sweden with the moustache that would chock all cardiac arrest patients back to life. And there was young and attractive Connie, a blonde girl who looked like a sweet doll but had the no-nonsense attitude of someone who had worked in criminal care, which she had.

But we were still one nurse short. We had interviewed several, but me and Catherine had agreed that both of us must accept our future colleague in order for us to even consider hiring them, and so far, it hadn't happened. And since we opened up within the week, we were running out of time.

But then, Catherine came into my office, which I had adorned with plants, with a big grin on her face.

"I've got one!" she said, waving a paper in her hand that I guessed was a paper copy of an e-mail.

"A potential nurse?"

"A potential nurse! And this one sounds really good! I booked an interview today at two pm, hope that's fine with you."

I thanked her, and didn't even bother to check the name of the candidate.

Each office in the building had its own ensuite. It was a feature that wasn't strictly necessary, to be fair, but we had had the budget for it, and so decided to add it. I was splashing cold water on my face in mine, trying to gain some energy for the interview.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, the way I had done ever since Madara had left me, every day more so than the previous. It didn't matter what I did, and I did do everything in my immediate power; slept seven or eight hours a day, exercised, got some daylight every day, ate fairly good... But none of that seemed to matter to seep out the last piece of tiredness out of me, the one caused by the absence of him.

I took a towel, like, an actual towel, and dried my face. Then, a thought struck me.

Why was Catherine so excited about this interview? And why hadn't she offered me the candidate's name?

It couldn't be... Could it?

A wave of realisation hit me. I checked the time on my watch. I was late. I ran out of the bathroom, into Catherine's office where the interview was to be held, and...

"There he is!"

Catherine beamed at me. Why did she beam at me when I was late? She should be upset. It must be because in the chair in front of her, back turned to me, was...

My heart leapt when I saw the black hair. Time stopped, took me back three years to the exact moment when me and Madara parted for the last time. How old was he now? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?

"Madara."

"My name is Joe."

I frowned. What? I looked at Catherine. She was frowning, too, looking at me. I looked at the man in the chair in front of her, and in it sat an amicable Asian man with a blue shirt, glasses and a toothy grin.

"Oh", I said in a very unprofessional manner.

I was suddenly ashamed. I felt like an idiot. Catherine didn't even know all that much about Madara! What reason had she to surprise me with him?

"Please, will you sit down for the interview, Hashirama?" Catherine said kindly, but her expression was stern; I was sure she was wondering what the hell I was thinking.

I forced myself out of it, went to the chair next to hers, and tried to alter my brain from a heart-felt reunion to an actual job interview.

I did worse as an interviewer than any interview candidate could ever have performed. Several times, Catherine had to kick me underneath the table. Poor Joe seemed oblivious, and I think that he, in fact, did a splendid interview.

As soon as he left, Catherine turned to me.

"Well, we obviously have to hire him as an apology for your spiteful behaviour."

I had never seen her actually angry with me, but she was now.

"I'm sorry. He was actually really good."

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she asked.

I frowned.

"I understand I was a bit in the blue, but why this reaction?" I asked, suddenly quite angry with my best friend. "I mean, my worst isn't that bad. We found out what we needed, which is that he'll go splendidly with our team." I saw a glimmer in Catherine's eyes then. I didn't recognise it, but figured it was probably because I had never seen Catherine angry before. "He's smart, kind, funny... What?"

Something odd was going on with Catherine's mouth. It looked as if she was chewing. But then I realised she was trying not to laugh. She kept glancing at the door to her office over and over.

"Nothing, please continue", she said innocently Catherine never said anything innocently.

"Excuse me? I'm here to apply for a job?"

The world stopped spinning. It stopped spinning but it felt like I was slung off it, back in time, all of the years we had been apart.

Wait... Hello, wait!! I can't keep up!

I turned to the door. I have no idea what my face did then so I cannot describe it to you. But there he was, his hair short with a side part, a crisp, white shirt that showed off the spider web on his neck as well as just the outline of a tattooed sleeve on his left arm that was definitely new. He even had a ring in the middle of his lower lip.

I wouldn't remember anything of the interview other than Madara being an absolutely adorable, blushing fuckin mess. He had developed this nervous tick when he bit his golden lip ring, showing off his lower teeth like a piranha. It was so cute it almost killed me. Luckily, Catherine managed the interview splendidly all by herself, and Madara seemed to know how to deal with an interview despite his nerves, which was more than could be said about me. But at least that meant I could keep staring at him. 

When he was done, he thanked us and left before I could throw myself at his feet and beg him to stay, and that was probably for the best because I would have begged.

Catherine wasn't mad at all I had once more sucked at my job as an interviewer, but chatted happily at how suitable Madara would be in our team.

"But what about the other guy?" I asked stupidly.

She winked at me.

"Nothing wrong with having one extra.

Then, I did something I had never done before. Me and Catherine had never been the physical types when we hung out, never even hugging hellos and goodbyes. I wouldn't have minded, but she was autistic and extremely sensitive to touch. It feels like a million fireworks going off in my skin, she had explained to me once. Like, it doesn't activate the normal amount of sensory neurons, but fucking all of them. It's terrible in my brain!

But now, I forgot, and I threw myself in her arms, hugging her close to me.

"Thank you", I said, tears streaming down my face. "Thank you."

That night, I threw myself on my couch as soon as I came home. I was exhausted by all impressions from the day. I sighed, massaged my face with my hands. I took a nap before making a simple dinner. I didn't feel like cooking something, so I took some small breads I'd bought in the bakery, a local cheese, small bell peppers which I filled with cream cheese, olives, crackers, fig marmalade and cherry tomatoes and sat down eating watching a film, Schrödinger as my only company.

Then, I took a well-needed shower, and sat down in my bed with my hair dripping wet, dressed in a navy blue T-shirt and checked trousers.

When I took my phone out, he had already written.

M: Hi, H.

Me: Hi

M: Look, I'm so sorry.

Me: Stop

Me: Right now

M: But let me explain!!

Me: I said right. Now. What part of that was unclear?

M: Are you mad at me?

Me: Very.

Me: I need you to make it up to me.

M: How? I'll do anything.

Me: Shhh, pet. I already know you'd do anything for me. Don't waste my time by stating the obvious.

M: ...

Me: Now. Describe to me what you're wearing.

M: T-shirt and trousers.

Me: Oh, I need more details than that, pet. Be a good boy and describe.

M: Well... The T-shirt is grey, with holes in it. But, like, the holes are supposed to be there. The trousers are black linen.

Me: Very good description. You did very well.

M: Thank you.

Me: You're very welcome. Remember, the better you obey me, the easier it will be for me to forgive you.

M: Yes, Sir.

Me: I prefer Doctor.

M: Yes, Doctor.

Me. Now, describe your hair to me.

M: Not as neat as when you last saw me. I took a nap, and haven't brushed it since.

Me. And your surroundings.

M: I bought a country house, H. Like, a ranch. I was so sick of my apartment. So now I live about twenty minutes out of the city. It's a big timber house, and I didn't have anyone help me decorate it, but I've tried to make it cosy. Thrifted some things. Loads of lamps. And... I have horses. Three of them. Their meadows surround the house so sometimes when I wake up, they're staring at me through the window. It's kind of creepy.

M: Sorry, that was not what you asked.

Me: I love to hear this about you. My horse boy.

Me: Do you have a whip?

M: I don't whip my horses.

Me: That's not what I asked. I asked if you had a whip.

M: Sorry, Doctor. Actually, I do.

Me: Have you ever... Had it used on you?

M: Are you jealous, Doctor?

Me: Do you want me to be?

M: Yes, a little. It would mean that you like me.

Me: Oh, I more than like you, pet.

M: Actually, I have had some men use it on me.

Me: You may consider me very jealous.

Me: Now, get that whip. And on the way back to me, take off your clothes.

Me: Everything.

Me: Text me when you're back.

M: I'm back.

Me: Naked?

M: Just as you said, Doctor.

M: Are you going to have me hurt myself?

Me: Shut up.

Me: Do you want to make me happy or not?

M: More than anything.

Me: Good pet. Now, then, lean over your bed or couch or whatever.

M: Okay...

Me: Now, place the tip of that whip on your left calf. Tell me when you're done.

M: I'm done.

Me: Send a photo.

M: You don't trust me?

Me: Shut up. If I ask for a photo, it's because I want one. The reason behind wanting one is none of your business. Now, send it to me.

M: -attached file-

Me: Very good, pet. Now, trace that whip up to your knee and the front of your thigh.

Me: You like it?

M: Very much, Doctor.

Me: Very good. Now, stop for a while. I need you to answer a question. What do you think I'm doing right now?

M: Well... I think you're still dressed. But wishing you weren't.

Me: You know me well.

M: As long as you haven't changed.

Me: Not much.

Me: Does that...

Me: Disappoint you?

M: You could never disappoint me.

M: Sorry.

M: That was insensitive.

Me: We're not taking old arguments into consideration just now, pet. You answered my question very well, and I will reward you. I was going to ask you to trace that whip over your hip to your stomach, but since you've been good...

M: Yes?

Me: Trace it over to your other thigh. You know what I mean. And send me a video of your face while doing it.

M: -attached video-

Me: Exactly the way I like it.

M: I want more.

Me: From the whip or from me?

M: From you. But since you're not here...

Me: Heh... You're so much fun, pet.

Me: Turn over so you're on your back for me.

M: Yes, Master.

Me: I like Master better than Doctor, keep it.

M: Yes, Master.

Me: Madara...

I could feel him gasp in the silence that followed. We didn't use our real names in the chat like this.

M: Hashi...

M: I wish you were here.

Me: We'll see each other at work in only a few days.

M: Will it be... awkward?

My heart melted for him.

Me: Yes. Very. And I won't be able to stop thinking about the end of the day when we can be alone.

M: To do what?

Me: That's up to you to fantasise about now. Think about whatever you want us to do together.

Me: But do not touch yourself. I want you wet for me when we meet.

M: But wait, Hashi!

Me: Goodnight, M.

M: At least tell me if you forgive me!

Me: Only if you forgive me.

I signed off, feeling happier than I had done in years.