Lucas is a surgeon because his brothers are surgeons, because his dad was a surgeon, because his grandfather was a doctor too.
He simply took the scalpel after he learned to walk, because it was the next step, the 7 after 6.
Lucas is a doctor because it was on his birth certificate that he would be one. Nevermind his nature is to discover things, not cut them.
Like a lot of things that our parents think would be right for us (like long, silly middle names that end up not suiting us) maybe Lucas should have left that heirdom forgotten. Maybe someone should have stopped him at the middle of the road and showed him there were crossroads, and asked him if he was aware his path only had one outcome, and if he really wanted it.
But why take a bus when your family already owns a plane?
Anyway the past can’t enter the OR, and neither can’t regrets when you have 3 surgeries on one night. So Lucas doesn’t waste time with “what if’s” and creates in the hospital the world he left outside.
All this pieces of lives he never lived come to him while he is operating. Parts of old songs, pieces of girls: a pair of dark brown eyes, a pink lipped smile, small hands with a blue ring. He sees himself in places he has never even been, a part of a London, a fragment of a building, half of a home, foreign accents, his unborn kids with no names. All is portions, because this thoughts have never been completed, because he has never given himself the time to wonder what he really wants.
Because why wonder, this was the best option, right?
And he stiches up the person infront of him, making it whole again.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s a doctor and he’s the best at it.
After all he cuts up his dreams every morning, then anesthetizes himself and gets out of bed to make his coffe, as if he were whole too.