『〔Solangelo One Shots〕』

Letters

No picture sorry :(
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They said I was hurt. No shit. It hurt, no matter how much I thought that it doesn't, it did. I don't remember where it hurt, it just did. Will, my soon to be wedded, held my hand as the doctor gave my condition. He asked to see Will alone, and he got up and walked outside.

Minutes passed as I was left alone in the cold empty room. The clocked ticked for what seemed like forever. Machines whirled by my ears. I looked down, and my body was covered by the white, thin blanket. The smell of rubbing alcohol and hospital burned my nose. I tried to lift up my left hand. Ouch, what the fuck? An invisible weight dragged my hands by chains that felt like a thousand ship anchors.

"Haaa..." I smiled in disbelief, was it always this hard to move my arm? I tried everyone of my limbs but failed. Will and the doctor came back.

"Hey, babes..." Will smiled. I stared at him, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Hi..." I replied. "What's wrong with me?"

"Don't worry... you're gonna get better," he smiled.

Liar.

"Is that so?" I held his hand, "that's good."

Gotta play along. Don't worry, Nico Di Angelo. He'll tell you later.

Will swallowed loudly and to a deep, shaky breath. One thing to know about Will Solace, he's a terrible liar.

"So, shall we get better and go back home?" Will held my right hand tighter.

Ouch. It was already difficult to HOLD his hand, but fuck, this is much worse. I held in my pain, and tightened up my facial features for him not to notice. Another thing to know, I too, am a terrible liar.

He noticed and stopped squeezing. "Sorry, Neeks," he looked down at my hand. He's holding his feelings in again. I tried to pat his head, and failed horribly. My left hand went up a good 2 centimeters before falling down.

"Ahh, oops," I laughed. Will, on the other hand, didn't laugh. He stared at my left hand in distraught. The color drained from his face, it was awful to see such a bright person like this. "Will...?"

"Ah! Sorry, Nico, I-" Will smiled.

"No... it's fine..." I let go of his hand. Will looked at me, obviously pained. I couldn't look at him anymore.

I turned my head and bit my lip, in effort to hold in my tears. It didn't work. Will burst out crying, wailing how he was sorry, and how he wanted to take the pain from me. I couldn't help but cry too. I yelled at him to stop and that I rather have it all to myself so he didn't feel it. To stop the trade of crying, Will pulled me into an embrace and kissed my eyelids. He told me to stop crying and never say that again. I couldn't help, but listen. Exhausted, we both fell asleep, hand in hand... well... my hand was in Will's.

We started physical therapy 2 months later, not even knowing what was wrong with me. I learned how to write, read, walk (it didn't go very well) and brush my teeth. I was still extremely reliant on Will, and I felt bad. He worked so hard to provide for me. I both winced at the sight of him, but also felt relieved that he arrived. He was so tired and sluggish. Sometimes, he just collapsed on the couch and the nurses had to help me.

After I mastered writing, I wrote little letters to him. Short little things, just to let out the bottled up thoughts at the back of my mind. This occurred both when he was at work, or when he slept. My sleep schedule was absolute wack. Sometimes I slept at 2 am, sometimes I slept at 10 pm, sometimes I even fell asleep at 3 pm. It all varied on how much medication I was given. I still didn't know what I had.