The Call of the Void

Will is concerned, and he makes that known

After doing my rounds and going back to my cabin, I tried to get some sleep, but failed. I'd been staring up at the ceiling for a while before sitting up on the bed, and deciding to go back to the infirmary, since I may as well try to help out while I'm awake. I quietly climbed down onto the floor and got some sweatpants on, when I remembered Nico's request for a shirt. Now, I could've just gotten one from the camp store, in fact I was about to, but that was all the way across the camp, and probably closed at this hour. So I just grabbed one of mine and carried it with me. 

I mostly restocked and reorganized, redressed a wound or two... But my mind kept coming back around to Nico's chart. Blood pressure and blood sugar were both worryingly low, heartbeat was a little bit faster than normal, and he was deficient in dang-near every nutrient known to man. He slept through dinner, so once I was free, I made him some instant oatmeal, grabbed a gatorade and a square of ambrosia, and started walking back to his room. 

When I passed his door, I heard rapid breathing. I nearly dropped everything I was carrying, but I set it down onto the first flat surface I could find and opened the door to find him writhing, thrashing in his sleep, threatening to damage his stitches. "No, no, non di nuovo! Lasciami in pace, per l'amor di Dio, lasciami in pace! Perché non puoi lasciarmi in pace!?" He begged, quiet at first, but by the end, he was practically screaming. His body was tangled up in the sheets, and he was about to fall off the bed, so I pulled him to my chest, making his eyes fly open. "Non è stata colpa mia, lo giuro!"  

"Hey, it's okay... It's ok, it's gonna be ok. You're gonna be ok. You're safe now." I reassured him, holding his fragile, bony body close to mine, still hyperventilating. "Ok, deep breaths, Nico, can you do that for me? Just follow my lead, in... And out.... And in... And out... One more time, in... And out..." 

Finally, his breathing calmed down, but he was still shaking, and I could feel his heart beating so fast and so hard it was about to burst out of his chest. 

After a few seconds, he shoved me off of him. "What are you doing here!?" He hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's... What time is it?" 

"Um... Dark." Was the best answer I could come up with, seeing as I didn't think to bring my watch. "And I came here to check in on you. Just in time, too, it seems." 

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide behind that snarky, cynical persona again. "I would've been fine, y'know." 

"I highly doubt that," I deadpanned. "you aint fooling me that easy anymore, Mr. Tough guy." 

"I'm not trying to... Why are you so obsessed with me, anyway? I'm not the worst one here, not by a long shot. This isn't even the worst-..." He stopped himself, though I could guess what he was about to say. "... Did you get me a shirt yet?" 

I sighed. "I did, and a few other things. You wait right there." I stepped back out into the hall, picking everything up from a chair, and set it back on his nightstand. It was only when he grabbed the shirt and put it on did I realize it was huge on him, hanging off of one of his shoulders. 

He shrugged, looking down. "Well, at least it's mostly black... Is this yours?" 

"Yep." I answered, handing him his oatmeal. "Now eat." He shot me one of his famous glares, which I responded to by donning my puppy dog eyes. "... Please?" 

His eyes rolled again as he picked up the spoon and shoved it into his mouth. "There. Now leave me alone." 

One of my brows arched. "Are you seriously full already?" 

"I... I guess my appetite has been... Fucked around with a little bit." 

"Number one, stop cussin' so darn much! And number two, a little bit? A little bit!?" I huffed in annoyance. "You, diAngelo, are going to be the death of me. Just... Fine. Have it your way, but at least take this." I held out the ambrosia square.