This isn't a TW, however it a Warning.

This will not be up to my normal standards. I won't lie, this chapter was hard on me. I had a mental block the entire time I was trying to write it, and so you're getting what you get.

The likelihood is that I will eventually go back and edit the F^ck out of this chapter. I'm very sorry in advance.

Juliana's POV

I wish they would have let me put a bra on.

Like, I get that they don't want me messing up the wires with my bra, but not having one on just feels wrong. Could be because I'm into figure skating, so I'm used to having sports bras on 24/7, but I feel too... loose.

If you know what I mean.

They've decided to do something called a 'heart monitor'. Apparently, it's going to see if I actually have an arrhythmia, which everyone already seems to be pretty sure I do, and what kind. Pretty simple, yet incredibly annoying.

At least they let me keep my jumper and didn't make me put on one of the atrocities they call a hospital gown. I know from experience that wearing one of those things is the equivalent to taking a bath in sandpaper.

I take my hand, pawing mindlessly at one of the multicoloured wires resting on the side of the bed. I follow it with my hand, being stopped once I reach my chest. I lift up the front of the hospital gown, peeking down to see that thankfully, I still have boobs.

Call me weird, but not having a bra on makes me question if I still have them or not.

Reaching over, I pick up the small little black box that all of these wires connect to. It's no bigger than, say, a phone. But very chunky, and a little on the heavier side.

It had a very long thick black cord connecting to the end opposite the thin multi coloured ones, that connected to the wall behind my bed.

The black cord was long enough that I could probably walk all over my room and not have an issue.

Not sure if it would allow me to make it all the way to the door or not. That might be pushing it. But it's not exactly like I can go anywhere without assistance right now.

I buzz my lips, readjusting the nasal torture device sticking up my nose. I don't see why I even need to have it anymore. My lungs have basically gotten over whatever shocked state they were in and learnt to breathe by themselves again, thankfully.

Compared to the amount of oxygen I was on when I came in here, this is nothing. That 95% I'm maintaining on the oximeter is practically all me.

I make the idiotic mistake of clearing my throat, which is slowly but surely healing, and instantly regret it.

I have to struggle with my singular arm to get myself sitting as upright as my body would allow at the moment, my lungs trying to cough themselves into oblivion.

I try sucking in deep breaths, but my lungs expel them at such a fast rate that I feel like I am suffocating.

I just know my face has to be going red, and strangely enough I'm gagging amongst the coughing. Because puking is really what I need right now.

My head is going light, black spots darting around my vision. A loud ringing in my ears prevents me from noticing the door opening, but I do notice when a pail gets set underneath my mouth.

I guess whoever had come into the room just now had taken me gagging as a personal threat.

"I swear to god if you puke on me I will actually disconnect your feeding tube." The voice threatens, and I can't help but have a small bit of mental celebration as I hear them gag in return to me finally puking up my stomach.

Well, I may have just thrown up complete liquid, seeing as the only thing still in my digestive system was whatever shit they were pumping through the tube that Mystery Asshole had just threatened to disconnect.

Though, I wouldn't be too sad if they said I could get rid of the darn thing, seeing as this is the second time I've choked because of it.

My little gagging fit seems to be content after leaving a very vile taste in my mouth, and I flop back dramatically on the bed, ignoring the sharp flare of pain it sends through my ribs.

You know, I had almost forgot about rebreaking those fuckers. Not anymore.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, glad that little show was over. I shift around, more than aware of the pain in my body, and trying to find a median. So far, I've never found it.

My ribs hurt no matter where I went. I already knew that's how it was going to be. My right collarbone screamed if I so much as leaned over to look in that direction.

But my left leg throbbed if I tried to lay on that side. You'd think the clunky ass, just short of armed steel, boot would help with that but noooo.

"Good lord princess, what the hell have they been feeding you?" Elliot, the only person who had ever called me 'princess' before and not in an endearing way, sneered in disgust.

I just huffed in annoyance and I heard him open a door, presumably the bathroom because moments later I heard the sound of a toilet flushing.

"I'm just gonna leave that there." He mutters to himself as he tosses the puke pail into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

I groan to show my displeasement at the loud noise, turning my head to the other side, hoping Elliot would just leave me to my misery.

"You look like shit." He says, and I hear a rustling that I refuse to admit is him sitting down.

"Should you really be insulting me right now?" I gripe, finally opening my eyes just to glare at him.

He shrugs, leaning and holding out a water bottle to me. I roll my eyes but take it because my mouth still tastes like second time around formula.

On instinct I take a big gulp of the water and, in true Juliana style, I immediately choke on it.

I dropped the water bottle, and tried to use both my arms to shove myself up, which I think we all know why that was a bad idea.

Elliot lunges forward, snatching the water bottle from me and yanking my good arm to pull me up.

He positions me to lean over the bed and gives three sharp smacks on my back. I cough with each one, fully emptying the water from my mouth and lungs.

My breaths are shaky as I wipe my eyes and my mouth with my hand, sniffling as Elliot helps me lay back down. Not before propping up the bed though.

Can I not go three fucking seconds without embarrasing myself? Geez.

Elliot stands there for a second, staring at me as I avoided his gaze, wishing a giant hole would just hurry up and swallow me.

"Can't go even a second without my attention, can you, princess?" He swings the water bottle at my head, and I duck, even though the rational part of my brain knew he wouldn't have let it hit me.

"Well thanks for ruining my pants." Elliot grimaced as he shifted from foot to foot, pointing out the puddle beneath his feet and the wet spot going down his shin.

"Thanks for bruising my back." I retort and he scoffs.

"You mean saving your life. And I literally didn't even hit you that hard." He rolls his eyes as he pulls me forward and pulls on my jumper to peek at my back.

"Oh yeah... That'll probably bruise." He lets out a nervous laugh and I hope he can feel the look I'm giving him right now.

"Don't tell my dad." He demands.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I literally saved your life, you ungrateful child."

"I am not a child! I am fourteen years old." I retort, smacking his side with my good arm.

"Aww, sure you aren't." He reaches over and squeezes the colour out of my cheeks and I smack his hands, trying to bite his wrist.

"Elliot!" I hear Aunt Stefanie exclaim and Elliot jumps back like I've burnt him.

"She started it." He pointed at me and my mouth dropped open.

"Nuh uh! He was the one antagonising me!" I defended, swinging to smack his side again, but he's too far out of reach.

"I don't care who started it. She's in the freaking hospital, Elliot Kriptonite Bianchi." Aunt Stephanie's mouth is still open like she wants to say more but she's cut off by my laugh.

Well, to me it was a laugh. She probably thought I was hurt by how demonic the sound came out.

"Kryptonite?" I asked, between wheezes.

"Shut the actual hell up." Elliot growls, but that only prompts my laugh further. I calm down as I hear Aunt Stefanie chastising Elliot for cursing at me.

I finally look behind Aunt Stephanie to see that she's brought along another visitor.

"Dad!" I exclaim, feeling my mouth break out into a huge smile. It kind of hurts, because my lips are so chapped it pulls a small section of my lip apart and causes me to taste blood.

"Hi baby, how are you?" He asks, stepping, or should I say crutching, into the room while Aunt Stefanie tells Elliot to bug off.

I just shrug, and Dad lets out a breath, settling himself on the chair beside my new bed.

"That's not an answer." He says as he lays his crutches on the floor in between my bed and his chair.

"Well, they hooked me up to a heart monitor at like, 5 in the freaking morning. Woke me up, like can you be any ruder?" I complain trying to reach down to get Dad's crutches.

He takes his casted leg and props it up on my bed, blocking me from his crutch without crushing his foot. Which probably wouldn't have felt very nice for either of us.

I pout and cross my arms, well, my good arm, and lean back against my stiff hospital pillow.

"Elijah should be coming in with respiration soon. Gastrology is probably going to pop in and out too. PT wanted to see her today also, and the other one.." Aunt Stephanie explains, typing something into her phone.

You know, she and Uncle Stefano have a lot in common. Yeah, it's like they've been married for a couple decades or something...

"Am I just supposed to guess what 'other one' means?" I ask. Aunt Stephanie takes a quick glance at my father, which really doesn't last much longer than a second before focusing back on me.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Seriously? How much better is that answer than shrugging?

I lean back, slightly overwhelmed by hearing her talk about all the people I was supposed to be seeing today.

I mean, this is good. That means the results for all of my scans and lab work must have come back, and they're coming to tell me that everything is fine. Then I can go home.

Today marks my fourth day of being here, after all. That's four days too many if you ask me.

"So, did either of you bring anything fun to do?" I ask, tugging on the wires, which had magically found their way back into my hold.

Dad leans over and takes them from me, popping my hand when I try to grab them again. Rude. Why do people keep trying to hit me? I thought it was customary to not hurt the already injured person?

I glare at dad, but he just checks his phone. Speaking of phones, mine's dead. I forgot to plug it in last night, and now it's only at like, 7%. But it's literally been charging for a whole, 9 minutes. That stupid thing needs to speed up.

"I'll ask your mother if she can bring something on her way from her appointment." Aunt Stephanie murmurs, still typing vigorously on her phone.

It was like watching a reenactment of the fast and furious. With her thumbs.

I sigh, laying my head back and looking up at the ceiling. You know, I kinda hate fluorescent lights.

They're just so ugly, and so bright. Not to mention annoying. There's always that one that either has like, two bulbs out, or one that just continuously flickers.

I sigh again, getting bored with the plain white ceiling and walls. Why couldn't they make hospitals interesting? I mean, I thought this was a children's hospital. The least they can do is add some colour.

Dad nudges me with his foot, and I give him a 'what?' look. He replies with a look that tells me to cut it out, but who is he to talk? I just roll my eyes, huffing at his audacity.

I'm bored. He can't tell me to just not be bored. Plus, isn't he the one who came to see me? You'd think that he should be entertaining me.

"Here, drama queen." Dad says, holding his phone out to me. I take the thing precariously, looking at him with unbridled suspicion.

I hold the phone, unsure of what he wants me to do with it.

"Can you show me how you get stuff?" He asks, and I look at him, confused.

"Like, Etsy, Amazon, Temu?" I ask and he furrows his eyebrows.

"What's that?" He asks, looking like I've just told him the beginning of a hex.

"Online shopping." I clarify and he shakes his head.

"No. Apps. Like, games." He says and I squint my eyes at him.

"You mean in the Appstore?" I ask, as I swipe my thumb down, typing 'Appstore' into the search engine. I click on the blue and white app, shoving the phone at him.

He just takes his phone back, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. Who doesn't know what the Appstore is? I mean, I get that he's been a little technologically deprived, but did he not have that back in his day?

"Took you long enough." Aunt Stephanie exclaims, and I look up to see her giving a swift hug to Elijah, who is standing in front of a whole lot of people. Aunt Stephanie moves further into the room, allowing Elijah to follow behind her.

Oh hell no. He better not be bringing those people into my room.

Elijah steps to the side, allowing for a gang of about seven people, all dressed in lab coats, to enter the room.

Oh fuck, he actually let them in. I'm going to kill him. I look like absolute shit right now, he can't let people see me like this! Watch your back Elijah.

I shrink down in my bed, cringing at the attention of all these strangers.

"Hey Julie." Elijah says as he closes the door. I don't acknowledge him, upset that he would let so many people see me when I look how I feel. Like shit. I will never forgive him.

Elijah obviously can't read my mind cause he walks over to me, placing his hand on my head. He leans so that his face is inches in front of mine, and just stares at me.

I try to stare straight through him, but I slowly feel my resolve slipping. I bite the inside of my cheeks, scrunching up my nose as I try to fight the smile that breaks out a few seconds later.

Elijah moves back with a laugh and I glare at him, shaking my head. Cheater.

"How have you been?" Elijah asks, walking around my bed to the side with all the beep-y machines. He looks at numbers, taps things, and opens up a laptop he had brought with him.

"What do you think?" I retorted. I wonder if he knows where we are.

"I think you need some more sleep with that attitude." He replies and instead of replying with something snarky, I decide to keep my composure and do the mature thing. I stick my tongue out at him.

I think he doesn't see me, seeing as he's a little focused on entering numbers in his computer. But then I see him move his hand so that his body hides it from the team of doctors behind him. And what does this so-called 'mature' cousin of mine do? He flips me off.

I want to react, but I'm embarrassed by the number of people in the room. So instead I lean more into the covers, pressing my hip into my dad's cast. I hope he doesn't mind. I mean, if I were hurting him, surely he can move his foot.

"Hello Juliana." One of the doctors in the group spoke up, drawing my attention to her. "Can you tell us how old you are?"

"I'm fourteen." It strikes me as a little weird that they don't already know my age. I mean, isn't that something you should know about your patient?

"Ah, thank you. Well my name is Dr. Hanna Cuman. I am the lead doctor of our gastrology team. We're here to talk about your n-tube." She says, taking a step closer to me.

Her and the rest of the team all had ipods, which I'm beginning to suspect is quite normal. Her other 'teammates' stayed relatively quiet, allowing for her to do most of the talking.

"So, the n-tube is that tube going through your nose and down to your stomach. So I did go through your chart, and I noticed that you still rely pretty heavily on your tube to get over half of your daily caloric intake."

Whoops. How the hell did they even know that?

"That being said, while we wanted to be able to take out your feeding tube, I'm not sure that would be the greatest idea.

"Under normal circumstances I would put you on a diet plan, but once your treatment starts, I'm afraid that your appetite is only going to continue to shrink."

"Woah, can we back up a second." I half interrupt. I wouldn't count it as interrupting because she was technically done with her sentence.

"What do you mean-"

"Juliana is not aware of that yet. They haven't been in here to explain, so we can not discuss that with her." Okay, what Elijah just did to me is most definitely called interrupting.

"Oh, I thought they would have made it in here by now. My bad."

"Hold up, who is 'they' and what haven't they been in here to tell me about?" I ask, and Elijah just shakes his head.

"Are you here father?" The doctor directs towards my dad, and he nods. Both of them ignoring me.

"Okay, well as you've probably heard, she still very heavily relies on her n-tube. However, those are typically for more short term situations, as they can be a bit of a pain.

"We can do something like a G-tube, which is built more for the long term." The doctor explains to him and I see him nod, trying to take in all the information.

"Um, hello? Am I suddenly invisible? What are you people talking about?" I snap, my voice edging on hysterical. I can't tell whether I'm more scared or mad. I'm scared that the knowledge being withheld from me could be something serious.

I mean, she mentioned a treatment. That means that something is in fact wrong. I'm also pissed that they're withholding that information in the first place. It's my body, I should know if something is wrong with it.

"What is the difference between an N-tube and a G-tube?" My dad asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Well, a N-tube is placed through the nose, and is better for the short term. A G-tube on the other hand is inserted directly into the abdomen. We would have to make a small incision to be able to place it, but after that, there's really nothing to worry about. They are pretty hard to damage or move out of place. Some prefer them, actually, because they are more discrete. They're easily covered up with a shirt, and for feedings all you would just need to hook her up to a pump, similar to what you're already doing." She explains.

This time I stay quiet as I watch my dad ponder this. Even though I was listening pretty closely, she did a lot of talking.

Though, I thought I heard the word, incision. And in that case, no thank you.

"Elijah, what would you do? If she was your kid?" Dad asks with a sigh, and Elijah doesn't even have to hesitate.

"I would do the G-tube. She doesn't eat enough to be able to nutritionally sustain her body's needs. She didn't even when she was living with us. Dr. Cuman is right, her appetite is likely to only decline."

Elijah took in a quick breath, glancing in my direction.

"A G-tube is less noticeable, she would probably feel less self conscious about it." Again dad nods, taking in the information and I just sit there, uselessly looking back and forth between the room full of adults.

It's like they're all speaking a different language. I hear the words they're saying, but none of it sinks in.

Every so often I'll hear a word I recognise, but it's not nearly enough to give me any context about the conversation.

"Juliana." My dad says, grabbing my attention. I look over at him, still dazed.

"Are you okay with a G-tube? It's your best option, but it's still your choice." I stare at him, unsure. My mind has gone blank. I can't think, I remember nothing.

Smack some cheese on me and I'll pretend to be a pretzel because there is not a single working brain cell left at this moment.

But dad says this is the best option. And he hasn't given me any reason to think that he would want anything less than what's best for me. So I'm going to trust his decision.

"Okay." I whisper. You can hear the lack of confidence in my decision, but he runs with it nonetheless.

"Alright. She'll do the G-tube." He relays to the doctor. I don't see her reaction, but I hear her say that somebody will come back later tonight to explain everything and get me sorted out.

I keep looking at dad. Eventually he turns to me, giving me a soft smile.

"You've got this Juliana." He whispers and I nod my head. If he says so.

I can feel a single vibration run through the bed, and what-do-you-know, that's all it takes to knock me out of my little daze.

I reach over to the table, where my phone is rocking a solid 55%, and see that I've got a text from Massimo.

I ignored it, opening up Snapchat and proudly sending a snap of my monitor to Rocco. I know he won't respond, it's about 6 in the morning over there, so he should be at practice.

I pop one headphone in, content to just scroll through tiktok. Seems like a great escape from reality if you ask me.

But apparently, Elijah had other plans.

"What do you want to eat?" He asks, snatching my earbud.

"Hey!" I protest, reaching out to grab it but he's too far out of reach. "I'm not hungry. I already ate."

"And you wonder why they're switching you to a long term tube?" He snorts, and I glare at him.

"I thought doctors weren't supposed to be mean to patients." I huff and Elijah just shrugs, still not giving me back my earbud.

"I can do what I want. What do you want to eat?" He asks again and I shrug my good shoulder.

"I don't care. That thing that had the grapes and cheese and crackers." I reach for my earbuds again, but he doesn't budge.

"That was a snack tray. You can't snack all day."

"Watch me." I reply, dropping my hand as I give up on getting back my earbud. I still have the left one anyway.

"Juliana, either tell me actual food or I will come up here with the most disgusting thing I can find and I will physically shove it down your throat."

"Elijah!" Aunt Stephanie, who had been silently standing in the corner of the room, scolds. "Do not say things like that."

"Go ahead, I'll have your badge." I huff at him, choosing to ignore Aunt Stephanie's comment. I love the woman, but jeez she can be sensitive.

"I'm a doctor, not a police officer." He reminds me and I cross my arms, the best I can.

"Well then I'll go after your licence."

We talked about that once in a medical class I took in seventh grade. Apparently doctors and nurses, all healthcare workers actually, had to get certifications, and licences.

Not only that, but they had to take a test every certain amount of years to maintain said licence. Seems like a lot of work if you ask me.

"Oh please, you don't even know how to do that." Elijah rolls his eyes, sitting down on that roll-y stool meant for the doctors and nurses.

Though, I see no reason as to why they would bother having it in here seeing as everyone just seems to bring their own devices and is never in here long enough to sit down.

"I do too. That's what HIPAA is for." I state proudly, throwing out one of the many organisations I learnt last year.

"That is not what HIPAA does." My dad laughs, and I give him a small glare for siding with Elijah.

"The AMA then." I try, and again and Eli looks at me like I'm dumb.

"No. Not even close."

"The CEU?" I try, much less confident, seeing as I'm running out of organisations.

"What the hell are they teaching you? No. Do you even know what that stands for?" He asks, and I squint at him.

"Obviously I do." I roll my eyes. Seriously, what does this man think I am? An idiot who just throws out random organisations she learnt in 8th grade?

"Oh really? What's it stand for?" He challenges, crossing his arms, mocking my position.

"The... Credential Evicting Union." I state, nodding proudly to myself. That sounds legit. Right?

Elijah snorts, standing up from the doctor's stool.

"Mhm. I'm sure. How about you call the 'Credential Eviction Union' while I go pick you up some actual food from the cafeteria." He says, rolling his eyes while he walks out of the room.

I exhale slowly, still looking at the closed door that both Elijah and Aunt Stephanie had just left from. Suddenly, my mood has dropped.

"Dad?" My voice sounds off, even to myself. Strained, at best.

"Yes?"

"When can I leave?" I don't get an answer. I don't look at him, but I hear the crunching of the chair as he readjusts his position.

He removes his leg from my bed and for a moment, I miss it. I miss the weight that had silently reminded me that he was right there, without even needing to look at him.

"I can't answer that for you, sweetheart. I really wish that I could." He answers. Though I swear I hear something in his voice. Hesitance? Like there's more he wants to say, but doesn't.

"How long do you think? Realistically, I mean. Maybe if they can get this heart situation figured out, I'll be all good to go. I mean, I'm not sure if arrhythmia can cause-"

"Juliana."

"-a lowered Sp02 level, but I'm sure it's possible."

"Juliana."

"I mean, it has to be. I think I read something about a decrease in oxygen rich blood to the-"

"Juliana. You stop right now, you hear me?" My dad snaps, and my eyes fly towards him. His entire body looks tense.

His hands are clenched, there's a vein on the right side of his forehead that I swear looks more prominent than it did before. He also isn't looking straight at me, rather beyond me, towards the door.

All textbook signs of anger.

"I understand that you want to leave. We all want you to be home right now, instead of here. And trust me, the minute they think that you're stable enough that we can transfer you home, we will. But for the love of god please, just stop." He drops his head to his hands, his voice going weak at the end.

I open my mouth, ready to apologise when I think back over his sentence. And the whole conversation with that gastrologist.

"What do you mean 'stable enough?' You say it as though," I pause, not sure I really want to start this right now. "As though you don't think I'm going to get better. Not soon, anyway."

Again, I can see the muscles along his back tensing, but he says nothing.

"Dad, I get that you're concerned. But honestly I'm fine. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. The cardiologists will see what's wrong with my heart and then-"

"Your heart is not the problem, Juliana." He whispers, bringing his head back up. I notice that his eyes are brimmed with tears, and I wonder if maybe I misread his emotions.

"Then what is the problem?" I ask hesitantly. He doesn't say anything, just presses his lips together and shakes his head.

He can't tell me.

You know, I'm done with this. I'm done with people knowing more about my condition than I do. I'm sick and tired of constantly having to rely on someone else.

Oh having to abide by everyone else, while they pull the strings of my life. I'm done. That's not how I want to live my life. I am sick and tired of it.

I'm not sure when my little mental rant turned into an outward one, but my dad still says nothing. He lets me talk, and rant, and raise my voice, to the wrong person. Because he's not the one that caused it. There's nothing he could have done to stop it either.

"I love you so much Juliana." He whispers when I'm done, and this time it's my turn to listen. "And no matter what happens, it's going to be okay. You are going to be okay. And you're going to have so many people behind you who can't wait to help you to the other side of it."

I find myself nodding along. I don't understand what he's insinuating, nor do I really want to know. All I know is that I trust him. And if he says I'm going to be okay, then I will be.

"Oh, and then Jamie threw her drink at Massimo. Oh my god, if looks could kill." Gino laughed, and I shook my head, leaning further into the window.

"Mom was absolutely done with her at that point. Dragged her to her room only to come back 20 minutes later. Kinda nice though, Jamie wasn't seen again until the next afternoon."

"At least she's making it easy to keep my title as the favourite." I drive my spoon into the disgusting pudding on my tray, wrinkling my nose up in disgust. I more than understand why people don't like hospital food.

This stuff couldn't even pass for Jello in the pitch black.

Right now, Gino and I were sitting on chairs, I got the reclining one, next to the window in my hospital room. I think Massimo is getting something from the cafeteria, but I'm not sure.

Everyone had done their nightly rotations. Mom, dad, and Aunt Stephanie left around 05:30 when Massimo and Gino had showed up.

"I don't know, it's kind of nice not having you there." Gino says and I throw my spoon at him.

He laughs, swiping the brown poop off his cheek.

"How have you been?" I ask, giving up and putting my pudding on the windowsill.

"Adjusting. You?" He asks.

"I mean, I'm glad to not have a bunch of shit sticking up my nose. I'm starting to feel just slightly normal again." Turns out the reason respiratory wanted to see me was to tell me that I could officially be taken off of oxygen.

You can guess how happy I was about that. That thing is a pain in the ass. Not to mention it was starting to cause my face to break out.

Now to get the stupid feeding tube out and I'll be completely free. Well, other than the heart monitor, but I know that'll be taken off tomorrow.

"You look slightly more human than yesterday, I'll give you that."

"Dumbass." I mutter turning up the volume of the show on the small telly that the room had hanging up in the corner. The good thing about this hospital is that they did have a source of entertainment.

"Excuse you. I don't see you graduating in what should have been your freshman year." He brags and I can't help but roll my eyes. This asshole would never let anybody forget that one grade he skipped when he was like nine.

"Food service." A familiar voice sings as he opens the door to my room.

My mouth drops open as Massimo walks in carrying two bags stuffed to the brim with takeout.

"Have I ever told you you're my favourite?" I say with a laugh as Massimo sets the bags down on the adjustable roll-y table. He rolls it over to us, lowering it as he grabs one of the spare roll-y chairs that had been placed in here.

When they had noticed just how many people came to visit me at one time, they had put a few additional pieces of furniture they had lying around so that everyone would have a place to sit.

"I better be. I had to go across town to find a place that sold this." He says, holding up a small container full of gnocchi. I gasp, snatching it from him. It looked to be covered in a thin green sauce, I'm assuming pesto.

"You're the best." I smile at him.

"I better be. You know how long it took me to find a place that actually sold that shit?" He grumbles as he starts dissecting the bag that Gino wasn't already tearing into.

"Is there a Greek restaurant around here, you think?" I muse and Massimo stops what he's doing to stare at me with a raised eyebrow.

"We live in the middle of the capital of Italy. What do you think?"

Yeah, I didn't answer that...

When all was said and done, I had about half of my favourite foods in front of me. Gocchi, garlic bread, a caesar salad, and chicken fettuccine.

"Uh, as much as I love the break from hospital food, this is enough food to feed two football players." I point out and Massimo just shrugs.

"Whatever you don't eat can be saved for later."

"Or I'll eat it for you." Gino pipes in, but if he's still full after his mountain of food, then there's something wrong with that boy.

Oh wait, when has that ever been a question?

"It's been a bit since I last saw you." Massimo comments a little bit after we all dug in. I just nod, mixing around my salad with my fork.

"Yeah, definitely has. Anything happened lately?" I won't lie, it's a bit awkward between Massimo and I.

Could be because I'm still a little upset with him about the whole Jameson situation, it could be because he technically knows now, and doesn't know how to approach me anymore.

Or it could be something as simple as we haven't seen each other in a while. Because I'm really not counting that first night in the hospital.

"No. It's weird not having you in the house. You really didn't live with us that long, but it always feels like someone's missing. You need to hurry up and get better." He gripes, stabbing his lasagna.

"Oh, well sorry to inconvenience you with my lack of superhuman healing abilities." Gino snorts, and ends up choking on his food, resulting in him wearing most of it.

Oh well, at least it wasn't me this time.

We mostly talk about mind numbing things. A game that happened over the weekend. A book that was read, a tv series that was released. That was until we got to the topic of how everyone was settling into this 'new' reality.

"Has James come to see you yet?" My hand freezes, tightening over my bite of fettuccine. In the corner of my eye I see Gino tense, though Massimo seems completely impassive to the shift in the room.

"No. Uh, no he's not stopped by. I wouldn't mind if it stayed that way." I muttered the end, but it was still loud enough that no one would question that I wanted it to be heard.

"You're going to live in the same house as him. You'll have to see him eventually."

It's not meant to come out as an asshole statement. It just does. Massimo doesn't deliver the words with passive aggressiveness, or any sort of opinion behind them. He just speaks as though he's stating a mere fact.

"I know. I just- I want to focus on getting out of here first." Then I'll direct my energy to Jameson. I don't say that part out loud though.

I don't want people to think that I'm overreacting, or being dramatic. But even the thought of having to see Jameson and pretend like everything is normal...

I can't do it yet. I can't learn a whole new set of rules with him. Not right now.

Throughout my semi-long stay, I've slowly come to terms with the fact that they're fine with what Jameson did to me. Part of me understands, I mean, he is their nephew. Their grandson, their cousin. They've never seen the bad side of him.

They may think it's hypocritical of themselves to judge Jameson based on a few bad traits.

Whatever the case, they aren't ready to say goodbye to him yet. And that is something I will just have to come to terms with. I'm just praying to whatever deity will listen that he keeps his hands off me. And that I never have to see any of his 'buddies' ever again.

But one wish at a time, right?

I can't promise myself that I will ever forgive him, however I can ignore him until I'm eighteen. Then I'll never have to look him in the eye again, and no one else has to cut anyone out.

It'll all work out just fine... right?

————————————

Okay but what the heck are they hiding from Julie?

This is one of the only times that I have genuinely been scared to ask how it was I hope you guys didn't completely hate it 😂