A Hero, The Hero (Solangelo)

Infirmary

I smiled to myself. Annabeth was okay. All because of me. I quickly stood, but that was a terrible mistake. I collapsed on the ground, and screamed despite myself. Blood sprayed everywhere. Will was next to me in less than a second. His thumb traced my cheekbone and it came away wet. I was in tears. He cupped my face and inclined my head to look at him. He acted as if I was going to break, as if another panic attack would come if he wasn't careful. It broke my heart.
"Nico," he chose his words carefully, deliberately,"the monster, well, it bit through your leg. I'm so sorry. You have a 10% chance of even standing without help, but you know what? I'm willing to bet on that."
I felt myself slipping. My heart rate ready to skyrocket. I had to prevent it. I put every once of strength into my words.
"Will. Talk. A story. Anything." He knew what to do. He gently picked me up and set me on his soft lap. He swayed back and forth and spoke in whispers. He retold my favorite story. I knew it word for word, but I loved it. Calming down, I buried my face in his neck, embarrassed. I taught him Italian so we could talk without anyone understanding. He knew little, so I phrased it simply.
     "Posso provare a camminare?" (Can I try to walk?)
     "Domani, il mio amore." (Tomorrow, my love.)