The Photographer (Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 38

Chapter 38

          Ignazio and I slept side by side together in the hotel bed, and in the morning he moved me carefully into the living room at my request. Gianluca, Piero, Barbara, and Michele all came to see me, and they hugged me and kissed me and fretted over me until Ignazio saw I was getting tired and made them leave. In the afternoon I asked him if he should be getting ready for the evening’s concert, and he told me he wasn’t going no matter what Michele and Barbara said. I told him he had to go, and after talking back-and-forth about it I got so riled up that he eventually agreed so I would calm down, though he clearly wasn’t happy to be leaving me.

Barbara went with them to the theatre, but after the start of the concert she returned to take care of me while the boys were gone. She told me as she brought me my medicine that Ignazio was nervous about leaving me, and he kept giving her instructions on taking care of me, telling her to make sure I didn’t do any work.

I was already upset that I couldn’t go to the concert, and I sulked for a while when Barbara hid my laptop, but the pain in my arm and head and the difficulty of breathing distracted me and quickly tired me out.

Late into the evening, when I was asleep in the hotel bed after an exhausting day of recuperation, I heard the door open and Ignazio came in wearing his tuxedo, a worried look on his face. He closed the door quietly behind him and came to the bed, dropping to his knees beside it and lightly kissing my cheek as he laid his hand on my aching head. I reached out to hug him, surprising him, and he smiled and hugged me gently back, kissing me again.

I knew I couldn’t go to the concerts, but it didn’t stop me from begging Michele and being turned down. I insisted that the boys take a few cell phone group pictures for me to post online from the last few concerts of their Christmas tour, and they obliged. At the end of the week Ignazio finally allowed me to work, though he monitored me closely.

Not being able to use my arm was frustrating, but I did my best to figure out how to do things on my own, only occasionally allowing Ignazio to help me. I was always trying to breathe, and being frustrated that it hurt so much. My head was especially bothersome, as I had frequent headaches and occasional dizziness, especially when I got up or tried to work despite Ignazio’s  protests. He was very protective over me, staying beside me when he could and making sure I was secure before he left.

I spent my time dreaming up plans for the tour Il Volo would begin after Christmas, and dreaming about what Marsala would be like. Ignazio made the arrangements for our break together, and I would be staying in the guest bedroom in his parents’ house. He wanted me to be in the same house as him so he could keep an eye on me, knowing I desperately wanted to be able to go out and photograph Italy. He told me he would allow me to go out at the end of the break if I was well enough, and I clung to that promise. In Florida he would be content to leave me in the care of my parents, and he told me Mr. Masters was going to allow him to stay in an empty dorm at Harrison if he would speak to a few classes.

So at the end of the week, after the last Christmas concert was finished, Ignazio woke me up early in the morning to get ready to go to the airport. He was nervous about the stress of traveling, but I reassured him repeatedly that I could handle it. He bundled me up, carefully helping me put on a coat over my cast, and then we said goodbye to everyone again.

“See you in about a month!” I said to the group after each of them had hugged and kissed me.

“Be safe, Tamzin,” Michele said, “I know Ignazio will look after you.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Piero said, and he and Gianluca laughed when I shot him a playful glare.

“I won’t let her,” Ignazio said, wrapping his arm around my waist.