Meeting the Demigods

63 Sick P1

This chapter is kind of short I don't know but anyways I was on instagram and someone had posted a cute story and underneath someone said "Think of your otp" and immediately I knew it would be a cute idea for this story. I am doing this with three different couples; caleo, solangelo and octachel, though they will all be different chapters. Enjoy! :)

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I hate hospitals. That's the first thing you should know about me. As I walked down the white hallways, into a white room and sat down on a white bed, all I could think about was how much I hated my parent's for forcing me to go.

As I wait for the doctor to come in, I change out of my dirty black shirt and jeans and slip on the white hospital robe, attempting to button up the back. Key word attempting. It's kind of hard to with a sprained wrist. I clench my teeth in anger just thinking about it. Thanks to that idiot, my wrist is badly sprained and my fingers all cut up from landing on the gravel. I'm interrupted from my thoughts when the door opens and a young man walks in, in fact he doesn't look more than a year or two older than I am.

"Good morning uh, Nico." He says and I roll my eyes when he has to look at the papers to find out my name. Well he doesn't seem very prepared. He then looks up at me for the first time and stops dead in his tracks. I raise my eyebrow and stare back weirdly at him. He quickly snaps out of whatever daze he is in and continues walking towards me. "Hi I'm Dr. Solace, I hear you sprained your wrist." He states and I nod hesitantly, holding out my hand for him to see. He gently takes my wrist and I instinctively flinch back.

"Relax." He says as be begins examine my hand, tracing lines on my wrist and massaging it. I subconsciously close my eyes and lean back against the bed. It really does feel soothing and I allow myself to relax for just a minute. I think about how nice it would be if I could just stay here, in this moment forever. but all too soon I feel him let go of my hand and walk over to his computer. My eyes snap open and my cheeks start to heat up. Stupid!  Why did I let him do that?

"The sprain honestly isn't very serious, it is probably best if we just let it heal on its own." He explains and casually and I nod. But just when I think I can escape, he continues. "That cut on your chin, on the other hand..." He says seriously and I sigh, looking down at my shoes embarrassedly like a child caught sneaking a cookie. Busted. "I don't know how you got that, and I understand if you don't want to tell me, but it needs to be stitched up." He says and I my heart drops. I hate stitches. I hate stitches.

He opens up the cupboard and prepares his supplies before coming toward me, to which I stand up and back away until I hit a wall. Uncertain of what else to do, I raise my fists threateningly infront of my face and glare at him. When he cautiously steps closer I scowl at him and through my fear, manage to spit out the words "Fight me!" I know it sounds stupid as soon as the words leave my mouth, and I have to fight to keep from melting into a puddle of embarrassment. I want to disappear, I want to become invisible.

And then he does something that surprises me. He doesn't laugh, or even seem to think I sounded stupid. He simply smiles, calmly, genuinely, yet somehow unlike any other doctor, or person I have ever met. And he says. "I'm not going to. Because I already know you'd win." My eyes widen and my heart begins to pound again, and I drop my fists to my sides as I willingly let him lead me to sit back up on the bed. As he begins to stitch up my wound, I don't complain, not once. Even though he is much younger than most doctors are usually allowed to be, he works expertly and everything is over quickly. When he is done, he inspects me again. And when he looks at me I look straight back into his blue eyes. He writes something down into his notebook, leaves the room for a few minutes and to my pleasant surprise, returns with a cup of coffee.

"You look pretty worn out, I thought you might need it." He says and for a moment I swear his cheeks turn a shade darker than before. But I smile and take the cup, acting as if I hadn't noticed anything. And that was it. I left the hospital without saying another word to the, dare I say it, cute blond doctor. He didn't chase after me and sweep me into a kiss. And he definitely didn't make another effort to talk to me. Maybe he really didn't see me as anything more than another patient, and though I was disappointed, I would have to deal with that fact.

The first thing I did upon returning home was taking my now empty cup into the garbage. But just before I let go, I noticed something scribbled on the side in black sharpie. And after reading the short message, my heart, for the third time that evening, sped up. But this wasn't because I was scared or nervous. Because the message he had left me were neither of those things.

:)Fight me?

His phone number was scribbled underneath.