AN-
Perverts because of the chapter title strictly NOT ALLOWED!
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Oh Gods.
I bounced back onto the infirmary bed. I hated physical touch. It made me shiver, made me feel disgusted with myself, and sometimes, the person touching me. I feared that whenever anyone touched me, they felt how revolting I actually was.
All my skin was practically gray and dead, and I hated it. I hadn't had a proper shower or bath since I was ten. Other times, I was too disgusted with myself to stand in the shower long enough to properly wash, or I couldn't stand up for that long. Years of dirt, and rot, and blood had built up on my skin, adding to my already bad skin. The clothes I had on were the exact same ones I had originally run away in. Luckily, I hadn't grown much. The same skull shirt, now almost completely ripped to shreds, the Hawaiian shirt from transporting the Athena Parthenon thrown loosely over it to cover most of my bare skin from where it was ripped up. The same tight black jeans, which I hadn't taken off in years. The same ones I struggled to get on every time I needed to use the bathroom. Not only that, but I certainly hadn't washed them in years. They stank of sweat and body odor, like they were quite literally marinating on my body.
Obviously, this wasn't what I wanted my first impression to be for Will. But I couldn't stand up for longer than ten minutes without leaning on something, and it would take a lot longer than ten minutes to scrub everything off. Even if I tried, I wasn't sure the grime would come off at all. Some of it felt fused to my skin by now-like the shadows had left permanent handprints on my shoulders, my arms, the crooks of my elbows, where cold had sunken into the bones.
I still couldn't believe how Will managed to convince me to do this stupid three days in the infirmary thing. I hated the place. The plain white walls, the clean smell-though it wasn't as bad in my room-made me want to throw up. The sterile lemon-scented air burned my nose, and the soft hum of enchantments pressed against my skull like a headache that couldn't be rubbed away. My head was banging from my own smell that was still radiating around me. All I wanted was to be out of the place.
I sat up again, looking out the open window. A tree was right next to it. Every brush of wind made the leaves inch closer to the window, daring to enter. It was kind of like they were reaching for me-like the outside world missed me and wanted to pull me back out again. A part of me ached to climb out and vanish into the forest, disappear like I always had before.
In the distance I heard campers shouting. Probably training or something. Ever since the war with Gaia, Chiron made sure to plan lots of activities to keep everyone distracted, though not everyone took part in them. I didn't. I stayed out of the way, let the days go by without touching them.
Soon I heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. Will entered, his cheeks a little flushed and hair a little messed up as he entered the room. He was holding a clipboard and attached to it were some sheets of paper. He also had a pen, so I guessed it was something he needed to fill out. He also had a stethoscope around his neck and had changed into doctor's scrubs, and oh gods, his arms looked amazing in them. Like, unfairly amazing. Sunlight hit his shoulder as he stepped in, and I swear, it was like the room brightened just because he existed in it. The soft blue of his scrubs clung to him in a way that felt too casual, like he was comfortable being here, like he belonged in this place.
Unlike me.
I tried to distract myself by looking out the window, very, very intently.
"Enjoying the view?" Will asked smugly. I panicked, thinking he was talking about himself. My brain stalled.
Completely.
I struggled to answer, and what came out of my mouth was a series of incoherent noises like, "Uhm...ugggg...urrmmm." I basically turned into a broken record player.
He pointed toward the window, his expression relaxing as he raised his eyebrows.
"The window, I mean. I thought you could do with a little 'light' in your life, so I chose the room with the biggest window."
He smiled cutely -NO HE DIDN'T, HE JUST SMILED. Ugh.
He huffed and put down the clipboard on his lap as he sat down on the chair across from me as if giving up on trying to make normal conversation with me. Like he'd already accepted I was a lost cause socially.
"Right, death boy-"
"Don't call me that!" I tensed up. My voice cracked halfway through the sentence. Smooth.
"No, I won't stop. Anyway, l'm going to give you a checkup.
I'm going to need your full name, your height, your weight, your date of birth, your age, medical history if you have any, blood type, and your pain scale." I blinked. I knew the answers to barely any of those questions. I knew my age, my name, but none of the others.
"So, let's start! What's your full name, death boy?" he asked cheerfully. He was so cheerful it almost encouraged me to be meaner. It was like a reflex-he smiled, and I wanted to scowl harder just to even the emotional score.
"Nico di Angelo," | replied dryly.
"Okay." He scribbled my name down, then, "What's your height?" he asked curiously.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Short," I said. He chuckled. It wasn't even that funny.
"Well, I need to know, so come over," he gestured for me to follow him to a side of the room, "here!" There was a giant wooden ruler nailed to the wall. It had all the measurements on there-2'4, 5'6, 6'0. He gestured for me to stand in front of it so he could measure my height.
I flinched a little when my shirt brushed the wood of it. The same type of rulers they used to beat the children at school when I was younger. The same one I got beat with for trying to kiss a boy l had a crush on in my class. He called me weird and told the teacher. I had to stand up in front of the board as our teacher slapped my knuckles until they bled with his ruler, telling all the other boys, this is what happens when you're weird. The memory came back too fast. I could smell the chalk dust again, the sour sweat of fear in the classroom. I could feel every crack of the ruler on my hands, every snicker from the boys behind me, every moment I swallowed tears because I wasn't allowed to cry in front of them. Not if I wanted to survive.
My eyes started to water at the memory. I had never told anyone except Bianca, who had tried to get revenge on the teacher by breaking it. It just got her beat as well.
"Nico, are you okay?" Will asked. I realized it was obvious that my eyes were watering. I quickly rubbed my eyes and nodded.
"Yeah, l'm fine." He didn't look convinced, but decided not to push it. I was thankful for that. He picked up the clipboard again, scribbling something down,
"5'2. You are quite short," he teased. I kicked his foot.
"Ouch, death boy, no need for violence." ,he teased again.
"Shut it, Solace." I said. He didn't say anything, but he obviously wasn't scared. In fact, he looked even more smug than before.
"Right," he said, opening one of the white cabinets— above where I could reach, unfortunately. He pulled out a scale.
"Now, death boy, we need to weigh you." He grinned. I didn't.
I stared at the scale like it might bite me. I hadn't stood on one in years. Didn't want to know. Didn't care. But now I kind of did. I stepped on it slowly, almost like I was sneaking up on it. it beeped, he gestured for me to step onto it. I put one foot at a time. I watched the numbers go up, then down. 82 Ibs, it read. I looked up to see Will's face.
His face changed instantly. His expression flickered from playful to horrified so fast it made my stomach turn.
"Nico, you're dangerously underweight," he paused. He looked genuinely shocked. I knew I was underweight for my age and height, but I didn't think it was that bad. Now, looking at the scale, I realized how bad it was.
For the past years, I hadn't cared about my well-being or health. I kept putting it off, saying "It'll be fine," or "I'll fix it the next time I go to camp." But I didn't know how badly it was actually deteriorating my health.
Will gestured for me to step off the scale, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern. His fluffy hair almost completely covered his face as he scribbled down something on the clipboard-probably another thing on how bad my health was.
He looked up at me with those sad puppy-dog eyes, as if it was his fault my health was this bad.
"Why didn't you come in sooner?" he whispered, more to himself than to me. He shook his head as he carefully picked up the scale, and I noticed that his hands were very quietly shaking. I didn't understand why he cared this much. After all, I was just another one of his patients.
We both sat down in our original spots. His hands were still slightly shaking but had slowed down now. He still looked sad, and he was still scribbling stuff down.
"Now I need your date of birth and age," he asked kindly. I could tell he was still a little shaken up.
"I'm fourteen, and my date of birth is the 28th of January,
1924." He went completely silent and dropped his pen onto the clipboard.
"What?" he asked slowly. I gave him a sheepish smile and tried to explain, "Lotus Casino. Stayed in there for about 70 years. Long story, blah blah blah." I trailed off, hoping he wouldn't push and we could just move on from it.
"Right..."
Bless his soul.
He blinked a few times, like he was mentally rearranging a filing cabinet that just exploded. His eyebrows drew together, then lifted again, like he was trying not to react too strongly. But his silence lingered a little too long. I could see the gears turning in his head: Ancient. Frozen in time.
Possibly cursed. Probably traumatized. Definitely a medical nightmare. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
"Now, I need your medical history, if you've had any."
I raised an eyebrow. I didn't really know what he meant by
'medical history,' since any demigod's medical history would send a regular mortal into a coma.
"I mean like, vaccinations, shots, medicine, no?"
I still didn't really understand. I had never had any of those except some medicine my mama made whenever me and Bianca got sick.
"Oh, right. 1924. I guess that means you've never had any shots of any kind."
I shook my head.
"Never mind." He scribbled something on the clipboard, then said, "We'll have to give you all your shots and vaccines later on. What's your pain scale?" he asked. I honestly had no clue what he meant.
"What?"
"Like, what do you rate your pain on a scale of 1-10," he said, wiggling his hands about.
"Uhmm, I guess, a three." I was lying, of course. But I didn't want him to think I was weak. He already knew my health was in shambles, so it wouldn't be long before there was a rumour going on around camp about how weak the 'scary son of Hades' is.
"Mhmm," he said. He didn't sound convinced.
"Now, what's your blood typ-you know what, never mind.
That's way too long of a conversation that you won't understand." He waved at nothing as if brushing the thought away.
"Now, I need to check your heartbeat. Could you please turn around?" he said, untangling the stethoscope from his shirt.
I turned around carefully on the bed. I flinched when it squeaked. The sound always went through me.
"Right. I know you don't really like touch, but I really need to hear your heartbeat. So l'm gonna talk you through what I'm going to do, okay?"
I hated the way he was babying me. But I was thankful he had the decency to ask me permission before touching me, unlike some people.
"I'm going to touch you now," he said from behind me. He placed a warm palm on my back. A shiver went through my spine, and I just wanted him to let go.
You can do this, for him, I told myself in my head. I didn't want to seem like a feral cat who had a hissy fit every time anyone tried to touch it-even though that's basically what I was.
He pressed the stethoscope against my back. It was surprisingly cold.
"Deep breath in," he whispered, and I did so, "Long breath out."
His breath hit the back of my neck. I clenched my fists in my lap. Why did he have to be so gentle about everything? Why did it make my skin feel tight and too hot in the worst way?
We repeated that about three times before he took the stethoscope away. I turned around to face him, and he had that sad golden retriever look again. Like it was his fault I was in such bad health.
I hated that look. Not because it was insulting, but because it was so real. Too real. Like he actually cared.
"Well, your breathing isn't very good, and your heart is beating very slow, but that's nothing I can't fix!" He chuckled cheerfully, though I could tell he wasn't as cheerful as he seemed.
I stared at him. "You can't fix me."
He blinked, then grinned softly. "Watch me." He sat up, and opened his mouth to say something. "Nico, I need to talk to you about your... weight."
Oh no. I had known this conversation was going to come up. "What about it?" I snapped.
He flinched back a little. I had finally got him to be scared.
"Nico, it's really not healthy. I know you think you're all immortal, and invincible and you can survive anything, but you can't, Nico, and this mentality you have doesn't help this problem."
"What do you know about me, Will? Nothing, so why don't you mind your own damn business!" I snapped.
This time though, he didn't flinch backwards. He stayed standing firm. His mouth twisted. "That's the problem, Nico. I want to know you. I've been trying to. But you shove everyone out and pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."
"That's not your job!"
"Maybe not officially, but guess what? You ended up in my infirmary, didn't you?"
"Only because you convinced me to-!"
"Exactly. Because your body is screaming for help and you're still acting like you're stronger than death."
"I am stronger than death!"
"No, you're just scared of asking for help!"
That shut me up. The silence cracked like a whip between us.
We stood there, both breathing heavy now, like we'd just sparred in the arena. His eyes were fierce-annoyed, yeah, but also kind of... intense. Focused. Like he was daring me to break eye contact. I didn't. Couldn't.
Gods, I hated how blue his eyes were.
"Nico, I really don't want to fight you," he said finally, softer, but still with that damn sun-warm voice that I could never block out. "So here's what I'm going to say. I'm going to leave the room, have my lunch break, and I'm going to come back with a food plan and everything." He said calmly. "But-" I said.
"No buts. Goodbye, death boy." And with that, he slid through the doorway and headed down the hallway, shutting the door behind him. I stared after him, chest burning. My jaw clenched. My eyes stung.
Oh gods, how was I supposed to last three days with this boy?
AN-
Looovers fiiighting!
Oh,btw,I'm adding a new chapter at the start.Its called "Hall of Fame",and it lists the name of everyone who kindly gave me powerstones.So,the second I see ur vote,the second ur going up there.
Hopefully,I don't mess up your name.
Enjoy,pookie bears!😘😘😘