TO BE ALONE: a series of måneskin oneshots

a little trade off (iii) (d.d./måneskin)

ROLL CALL

Damiano wanted to cry all the tears that he had been holding back when he saw the swarms of fans around the hospital parking garage. Maybe there were even a few paparazzi photographers there too.

"How the fuck did they find us?" He muttered, switching a nervous glance over to Vic.

Vic stared at the window at the same sight, shaking her head. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Just hold your own." Thomas added, though his voice sounded like he was more nervous than he let on.

Damiano nodded. "This is for (Y/N). We aren't Måneskin right now, we're family."

Ethan frowned. "Dami, we're always family--"

"Shut up, you know what I mean!" He broke a halfhearted chuckle and got out of the car. His gaze immediately darted to the ground as he shuffled through the masses of people.

The screams were all too loud, the people shouting, asking for pictures, asking if everyone was alright.

"No, no pictures, please." Damiano borderline begged when a fan grabbed at his arm and held on incessantly. "Please, really."

Damiano didn't want to put his hands on another person, but at this moment, he felt like he had to. He grabbed the fan's hand and pulled it away from his bicep.

"It's okay, Dami." Vic whispered, taking Damiano's arm and leading him to the proper hospital tower. "We're going to go see (Y/N)."

"We're here for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Ethan cut in front of the group, shakily stammering out your name to the receptionist.

She nodded curtly, probably blissfully unaware of the horrific events that got you and the band to this point. "Yes, psych, room 354. Elevators to your left, stairs to your right if you'd prefer."

"Thank you." Ethan responded before hauling to the elevator with the band in tow.

All five members of the band crowded into the small, rickety hospital elevator, thanking any God that would listen that nobody in the waiting room recognized them.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up." Damiano muttered as he walked slowly down the hallway, almost timidly.

Thomas' eyes widened in concern. "Okay, we'll go talk to the nurses real quick and I can find you a bathroom or something, yeah?"

Damiano nodded slowly, but froze dead in his tracks when he saw you through the door of your hospital room.

You were laying there, basically lifeless, though the slowly beeping heart monitor thankfully proved that suspicion wrong. Seeing you hooked up to plenty of wires and machines was a terrifying sight for everyone in the band, but much more so for Damiano.

"(Y/N)!" Damiano gasped, completely forgetting about his queasy feeling in the elevator and running quickly to your bedside. Dodging wires and IV machines, he cradled you in his arms, breathing along to your slow breaths.

He was whispering to you in Italian, just as he had on the bathroom tile, when a nurse entered the room. Vic took this one.

"Are you all family?"

Vic bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes...well, sort of." She couldn't bring herself to lie. "She's in our band, and her family lives in France, but they're not on the best of terms, so yes. Family."

The nurse nodded, mentally trying to piece together how a French girl ended up in an Italian band, but she went along with it anyways.

"Alright, and you are?"