His Blood Colored Hair | Albert DaSilva x Reader

Love Can Make The Flowers Grow

There's a lot of flowers in this one, and with each different type of flower and color mentioned, there's meaning it it. So I put the meaning up above if you want it.

Albert's POV, The Next Day

I hold a bouquet of pink and white roses in my hand as I sit outside of the small doctor's office with the rest of the newsies. A man with a white coat comes in from the operation room.

"I assume you're all here for Y/n, am I correct?" The man asks with a thick English accent. At the mention of her name, me and a couple other newsies stand up, and instantly bombard the doctor with questions. He holds up a hand to shush them, and the room is instantly silent again. "Well, I can tell you this, she is alive. But with how unstable her condition is at the moment, none of you will be able to visit her for the next couple of days. You may stop by to check on her condition, but you will not be able to see her. I'm sorry."

There's many groans of worry across the boys. Race steps forward towards the doctor, his face is filled with worry.

"Will she make it?" He asks. The doctor sighs and looks down.

"We don't know. The bullet wound was very deep, so we found the bullet right next to the spine, which means that we got lucky, because if the bullet got any closer to the spine, she could've ended up paralyzed from that point down for life. We had to remove the bullet just so that it couldn't end up hurt the spine, or create a infection because of the material on the bullet.
There's a chance that she may get an infection, and that chance is very high. So we just have to pray that if she does get one, that it's nothing too bad, and we have the right medicine to fight it off. So there's no definite answer, but if you're looking for one, I'd say that she has about a ten percent chance of living," the doctor says with a saddened expression.

I feel my heart shatter. She only has a 10% chance of living? I look around to see that everyone has a similar worried expression.

"I understand how you all must feel. But I can promise you, that I will do everything in my power to make sure that she lives. I used to work as a medic in the army back in England, and I've been working with medical history for about thirty years, so your friend is in good hands. And the best thing I can guarantee for her, is rest, so that her body can heal. So you'd all best be heading home, so you can heal too," the doctor says to us.

One by one, we all leave the building. All except for me, who's still standing there, holding the bouquet of roses. The doctor quirks an eyebrow, before I step closer and hand him the flowers.

"These is fah her. So if-... When she wakes up, canyou tell 'er dat Albert gave these to 'er?" I ask, wiping away a tear that's rolled down my face. The doctor looks down at the roses, then back up at me, and nods.

"Of course, sir," the doctor says. I smile and turn around to go join the others. "Oh, and before you go," the doctor says, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back to face him, and see his hopeful expression. "The police office wanted me to tell a mister 'Albert DaSilva', that every last one of the mafia members was arrested. And they also wanted to let you know, that they want you to stop by tomorrow, around five. Said it was something important."

I nod and turn back around, less curious about what they want, and more worried for Y/n. She's the light of my life. I can't expect to live another minute of my life without her in it.

But she wouldn't want me to be upset right now. No, she would want me to be stronger. So that's what I'm going to do. I'll be strong. For her.