꧁༒ 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽 ༒꧂

🌞Will🌞

TW: Mentions of self-harm

I burst into Nico's infirmary room, expecting to see him still in a vegetative state, as he has been in for the past few hours. You could see the shock on my face when I come in to see Nico sitting up and blinking against the bright lights of the infirmary. I almost cried with relief, before remembering that I was furious at him. "Why Nico," I exclaimed, hoping he didn't hear my voice crack in the middle, "why?"

He blinked at me, dumbfounded for a moment "Why what?" He asks.

All of my rage at him that has been built up for the past few hours explodes out of my mouth. "You know what I mean Niccolò Alexander Di Angelo, don't play dumb."

I see him more confused than ever before as he looks at me. I see a mix of hurt, frustration, confusion and sadness on his face. I feel terrible, calling him a name only his mother and sister used to call him, clearly bringing up bad memories.

"I-," he pauses clearly thinking over his words, "I'm sorry Will."

I glare daggers at him, mad at myself for being so brutal, but also mad at him for trying so hard and letting himself down.

"Why Nico," I ask, "you were doing so well, eight months with no new cuts."

He just looks at me a mixture of self loathing and self pity on his face. Then he shakes his head and slumps back down onto the infirmary cot and rolls over, not facing me. Not sure how to react to that I sit in the chair beside his bed, the one I sat in, every passing hour, praying to every god I knew that my boyfriend, the most amazing thing that ever happened to me, would wake up and survive the long process back to not cutting multiple times everyday, the process I had seen both ends of, both as the doctor and psychiatrist, as well as the patient.