Patience/Patients ✔️ {~A Nico di Angelo Fanfic~}

Chapter |~7~|

I hate myself for this, but............ Trigger warning >_<. Ftwaml

Will tossed his bag down on the couch in the front room. The mirror on the wall right next to the door caught his eye. Staring at his reflection, he realized how bad he looked. There were extremely noticeable bags under his eyes, and his eyelids drooped. His hair was knotted and sticking out in all directions. His lips were dry and cracked.

Overall, he wasn't looking his best.

Will trudged up the stairs, and into his room. He stared at he baby blue bathroom door. He made everything have such stupid colors. Nico's outfits suddenly didn't seem too dark; they seemed to match the world better.

Will stared at the sign by his door, and the picture of him and his sister that was taped onto it.

Don't lose hope, little one.

-Vienna.

His sister's dirty blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and her cerulean blue eyes gleamed with amusement as she ruffled a eleven year old Will's hair. Her freckled face was grinning, and so was Will's. They looked happy.

But that was ten years ago.

Will stood up so suddenly, his eyesight blurred, and went almost completely black. Will blinked multiple times, before making his way to the bathroom.

He leaned on the sink, staring at his reflection. He had a look of fear on his face, but Will himself couldn't figure out why. He wandered over to the shower, staring at the also brightly colored curtains.

Will ran his fingertips along the designs; they were bluejays, his sister's favorite. Her screams echoed in his head before he collapsed, his hands clamped over his ears.

Flashback ;)

Will spun around, trying to find the source of the screams. His sister was screaming. And she was in pain.

"Vienna!" Will yelled.

"Will!" Her scream was shrill. "Get out of here! Go!"

Will couldn't help but hesitate. The hesitation is probably what caused it all. He took of towards her scream, instead of the exit.

"No! Will- get out! Please!" She screamed when she saw him.

Her normally perfectly wavy blonde hair was knotted and torn, and her normally gleaming eyes look shattered.

"Run-!" she tried again, but she just flinched and stopped.

That's when Will noticed the chains. The chains around her wrists, that were stopping her from getting away. Whenever she yelled, it seemed as though they tightened, threatening to break her wrists.

But they were already broken.

They were already bleeding. The bones were already visible through only a few layers of skin. Blood was dropping from them, hitting her thighs and staining her light jeans. Her bright orange tee was torn.

A hand gripping his wrist and pulling him away only made him want to go to her more.

The crashing of glass snapped Will out of his thoughts. Will stood up, and slammed the bathroom door shut. Will looked down at his t-shirt. It was one of her's, but he wasn't eve strong enough to admit it. She'd had so many of the tees.

They were for the people she considered closest to her; she gave them to only people she knew she could trust. She'd given one to someone she shouldn't have trusted.

She'd given one to Will.

Will traced his fingers up the faint scars on his arms. He'd promised it wouldn't happen again. He promised he wouldn't even look at one again. He'd promised.

But he'd also promised he'd save her.

Will kneeled down, opening one of the cupboards below the sink. He pulled his torso into the cupboard, and opened a small compartment. Will pulled out a small box, and tossed it into the bathroom floor.

Will had no idea why in the world he would've kept these, but he did anyways. Opening the box gingerly, Will took a deep breath. With trembling hands, Will took out one of the small blades.

His mouth felt dry suddenly; he felt as though this was the worst sin he could have committed. He would be breaking his promise to his sister; but he had made it after she had died, so it wasn't necessarily breaking it, right?

"I'm sorry." Will whispered to her, as he pressed the blade to his arm.

Blood welled in the cut, but Will was used to blood; it didn't make him since anymore. Blood was something he saw everyday, with the job he had.

The pain wasn't as desirable as Will remembered, but the cold blade felt good. It felt like he could now say his patients weren't the only people he was hurting. He was hurting as much, now.

He had wounds now. Blood drained from his body, too. His patients weren't the only people he was failing.

He was failing himself, too.

Will squeezed his eyes shut, and moved the blade back down his arm. Another cut was created as he drove the blade deeper. The blood wasn't even acknowledged as Will absentmindedly made more cuts.

Eventually, when his wrist started aching, he washed off the blade. Tossing it into the garbage, Will hid the box of blades again.

Will wiped the blood from his arm, and wrapped it with toilet paper. Great idea, right?

Will hopped down the stairs, alert for his mom that might be home. He opened the medicine cupboard that rested in the kitchen, and grabbed the bandages.

Peeling the toilet paper off slowly, Will started unrolling the bandage. Will tossed the bloody toilet paper in the garbage, and wrapped the thin medical cloth around his forearm.

Will heard the door unlocking. Cursing, Will hurriedly put the bandages over the cloth, and pulled his sleeve down his arm.

His mom entered the house, right as Will managed to cover up the bloody paper in the garbage.