I'm sorry that this chapter is going to be on the shorter side, I'm trying to get back in the habit of regular updates

Juliana's POV

"Are you happy to be going home?" Massimo asks as changes lanes, blaring the horn at some poor old woman who was driving too slow for his taste.

I don't say anything, just nod halfheartedly. Home. That sounds nice.

Home, away from this stupid hospital. Away from the 24/7 supervision, away from the strangers constantly coming in and out of my room.

"Yeah, I thought so. Remind me, oh-so-talkitive-one, why didn't you want to ride with your parents again?" He griped, changing lanes again, without so much as turning on his blinker.

"They stare." I whisper, gripping onto the door handle with my uninjured arm. I will never get used to Italian driving. They drive on the wrong side of the road, and the cars are backwards.

Talk about heart attacks.

Massimo is the only tolerable one right now. He doesn't stare at me. He doesn't treat me like glass, or talk to me like I'm a petulant child. He doesn't consider me broken. And if he does, well then he's good at hiding it.

"You know, I promised I would take you straight home, but there's a new gelato place that opened. I've heard good things about it, and it's only a few minutes from the hospital." He offers, choosing to ignore my answer.

"I don't want ice cream."

"Okay? Well I do, and I'm the one driving so..." I roll my eyes, tightening my grip as he speeds up and wildly swings around the corner, barely avoiding running a red light.

Though, that definitely wouldn't be the only traffic rule he's broken in the past twenty minutes.

"I thought you said this place was close?" I grumble, squeezing my eyes shut as nausea rolls through my stomach, giving me a headache.

"It is. It's just a short twenty-five minutes in the opposite direction of the house." He says nonchalantly.

I groan, banging my head against the headrest, which most definitely does not help my headache.

"I hate you. I should have waited for my parents to be free." Massimo just laughs cruelly at my misery.

"If anything, you should be grateful for me. Not only are you getting ice cream, I'm cutting the time in half."

"Hate. You. I hate you so very much." I breathe in deeply through my nose, noticing that he does slow down, just slightly. Just enough that we don't have an entourage of honking following us.

"What do you want? A cone, a bowl, or a shake?" Massimo musses.

"My lunch." I groan, blindly reaching and adjusting the AC. It was already facing me, on full blast, but nothing would stop the prickles up the back of my neck.

"Oh. You know there's this food place not too far from-"

"No!" I yell.

"I'll get you a shake. You like caramel, right?" He asks and I don't answer. The swirling in my head is finally starting to subside, and I take the chance of opening my eyes again.

"Remind me to never get in another car with you for as long as I live." I look over to him and see that he is not even trying to hide his grin.

"Wait here, I'm going to go in and order. Stay." He commands, getting out before I can say anything.

"I'm not a dog!" I yell as he slams his door shut.

Why are my cousins such assholes? How far does he even think I'll even get?

I glance back at the backseat, where my few ways of mobility are stored.

Upon leaving the hospital, I was given a wheelchair, which was the "recommended" source of travel. According to Elijah, at least. I, on the other hand, find that to be quite bullshit.

I was also given a singular crutch. Not two, just one. I had been given what they called "crutch training" before I could leave. It basically taught me how to hop around the room on one leg with a stick underneath my arm.

Apparently I've given Massimo a little less credit than I should have, because instead of heading straight into the shop, he swings around the side of the car.

Opening the back door, he grabs my crutch, makes eye contact with me, and proceeds to throw the damn thing behind the seat and into the trunk. My mouth drops open, and he smiles innocently at me.

Bastard.

I huff, turning around and throwing myself back on the seat, not the brightest idea on my end, and Massimo slams the door. The car beeps as he locks me in and I stare out at the mostly empty parking lot.

What kind of ice cream shop opens at 09:00 anyhow? Like, what kind of psychopaths eat ice cream this early?

My phone buzzes, and I open it up to see that Rocco has snapped me back. Odd, because it's like, 3am over there.

In reply to the snap I sent of Massimo pushing me down the hallway in my wheelchair with the caption, #jailbreak.

He had sent a snap of him in an all black skating outfit. 'Need any help'? He asked, followed by two robber emojis.

I turn and take a picture of the ice cream shop, sending that to him in hopes of making him jealous.

Honestly, I kind of miss Rocco. I guess regularly seeing a person everyday for 9 hours of the day will do that to you.

I lean my head against the window with a yawn. I'm so exhausted today. I mean it is kind of hard to sleep in the hospital. And I am by no means sad to be going back to my own bed.

I am going to miss the narcotics though.

I'll be damned if those things don't make you feel better. I kind of see why Hunter was able to get hooked on them.

I shake those thoughts out of my head and tell myself to just enjoy the quiet. I watch silently, observing the people.

Italy, like New York, is a very vibrant place. And I'm not sure if it's just because I've lived in a tourist-y place all my life, but it's actually pretty easy to spot who doesn't belong.

I mean, of course you had the obvious signs.

Tee shirts, travel bags, awe filled gazes, drinking in every little sight they could. A lot of people carrying cameras, or moving in big tour groups.

At least, I think that's pretty obvious. To someone who didn't grow up looking for those things, it might not be.

It is an interesting concept though. People.

Every single person is a different story. Has a different problem they are burdened with. A small, bald, old woman carrying a little girl. A middle aged woman trailing not too far behind suddenly turns into a sick grandmother holding her grandchild.

Knowing she is dying quicker than expected, with no way to stop it. Her daughter planned a girls trip, knowing it might be one of the last memories that grandchild may have of her grandmother before she becomes too sickly to even make herself lunch, much less hold her as they walk through the streets of Rome.

A happy couple strolling through the streets holding hands. The girl, thinking her boyfriend is going to propose any day now, the guy holding the guilt of knowing he's cheating on her with her best friend.

Two best friends who finally got to see each other after being away at college all year. Unsure of when they'll get to see each other again. And who knows? Maybe her friend is clinically depressed. Maybe this is her final goodbye before she kills herself. Leaving the other oblivious that these are their last few moments together. Wondering what she could have done differently.

To anyone else, everyone here is simply out, enjoying their days. But what if it's more than that? There's always more to the story, is there not?

I jump when there's a pounding on the door. I look over, heart racing, to see Massimo standing there, holding two cups and a bowl. He flexes his fingers as though to point out that he can't exactly open the door.

I smirk, furrowing my eyebrows at him. I cock my head to the side, giving him a confused look.

His shoulders drop, his smile disappearing. He leans back slightly, narrowing his gaze on me.

"Jlana opn e oor." His voice is muffled and distorted thanks to the metal door between us. I have to hold in my laugh as I cock my head further, leaning across the middle console.

'I can't hear you?' I mouth, switching the direction in which my head is tilted. His eyes narrow further, and his mouth sets into a thin line.

"En e or" He grits out and this time a small scoff of a laugh escapes me before I'm able to get myself into check.

I squint my eyes, acting all confused. Massimo finally exhales, giving me one last look as if making sure that I really wasn't going to unlock the door.

He starts trying to maneuver around the cups and bowl, trying to not spill one. I'm not sure how he does it, but the bowl ends up between his teeth as he tucks the shakes in the side of his arm.

With his hand momentarily free, he's able to reach for his key, pressing the button to unlock the door.

I laugh, reaching out with my left arm, using my stomach muscles to stop my ribs from slamming into the middle console as I reach over and relock the door.

He sees my intent and lunges for the handle, but he doesn't make it in time.

He pulls the door pointlessly, the latch having already clicked itself back into place. His nostrils flare as he gives one last pull to the door.

He rips the bowl from his teeth, reaching up and smacking his hand against the top of the car, hard enough that the car rocks, and I see drips of ice cream roll down the window.

My smile drops as I let out a little gasp, gripping the door handle in surprise.

"Juliana Rosie Bianchi, you open this fucking door right now!" He yells, more than loud enough for me to hear, and attracts the gaze of several nosy onlookers.

My heart drops, fear dripping my lungs. I press my mouth shut, all traces of laughter completely gone.

I reach a shaky hand up, pressing the button to unlock the car. I pull back the second it clicks, sitting upright in my seat. Massimo opens the door before grabbing the ice cream on top of the roof.

He plops down in the seat, propping the gelato on his lap as he slams the door shut, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. We sit in a short silence, though it seems to stretch on endlessly before he finally opens his eyes.

Without looking at me, he holds out one of the milkshakes. When I don't take it, he turns his head to me, looking at me with soft eyes.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." He apologizes, and I press my lips together, reaching out to take the milkshake.

"Sorry I locked you out." I take the straw in my mouth. It takes a moment to finally suck up the milkshake, and when I do I just about gag from how sweet it is.

My eye pinches up, and I turn my head as I swallow the thick drink. Clearing my throat, I turn back to Massimo, who is trying to suck up his own milkshake.

"So uh... What kind of shake is this?" I ask, examining the thing like it's personally offended me by having the audacity to be so sweet.

"It's just fudge with extra caramel added in." He says casually, going back to his own shake as he looks something up on his phone.

I nod, even though I know he's probably not paying attention to me anymore. Massimo backs out of the parking spot, pulling out onto the road.

We drive in silence as I take small sips of my milkshake, not wanting him to think I was ungrateful of him going out of the way to get it.

But dear god, I may as well be drinking pure sugar because this is so freaking sweet.

We drive for quite a bit, but I'm surprised to see that Massimo doesn't go back to the house. For the second time, he's taken a 'quick detour.'

This detour however, included a lot of rocky terrain, and a few almost spilled milkshakes to get there.

"Oh shit, are we there yet?" I ask, my eyes squeezed shut from pain.

It's safe to say that oxycodone is only doing so much.

"Shit," I hear Massimo curse under his breath, and a second later we're parking. "Sorry piccola, I didn't think it would be so rough through here."

"M' not little." I murmur as I open my eyes.

"Where are we?" I ask with a small smile as I set down my shake, resting it in my lap. I hum uninturrestidly as Massimo names off some random place that I realise has no true meaning to me.

It almost looks like a rest stop, where we are. There's a small open area with a parking lot, and huge, intentionally placed, rocks surrounding the border. In the grass there are picnic tables and behind that, bathrooms.

"This place is so beautiful." I comment as I look ahead of us.

Massimo had parked at the very edge of wherever we were, meaning I could look over the drop and see mountains on top of more mountains. There was also a very small neighborhood, or town, or something, way way down there.

"Look. They're like ants." I take my hand off of my milkshake long enough to point down at the people below and Massimo lets out a little chuckle.

"I suppose they do."

I'm not sure how long we sit there, just admiring the view and sipping our diabetes in a cup. Neither one of us feels pressured to fill the silence, which is something I am grateful for.

But there's something that is nagging at me. A question just waiting to be thrown out there, but I know it's going to cause a complete damper in the otherwise peaceful mood. Oh frick it. It needs to be asked, and he's the only one around.

I turn, mouth opening with the intent to expel my question before I could talk myself out of it, only to see Massimo already staring at me. I freeze, my mouth shutting.

"Yes?" He asks, raising and eyebrow.

"How did you do that?" I demanded, narrowing my gaze at him. He just rolls his eyes, scoffing at me.

"Oh please, you've been shaking this entire car with how violently you're kicking your feet. Don't insult me by insinuating I would be too damn oblivious not to notice." This time it was my turn to roll my eyes as I turn back to the mountain top.

"Massimo, am I going to die?"

One thing about Massimo, he doesn't lie. He doesn't hesitate, nor does he sugarcoat things like every other single person I have talked to this morning. He doesn't feel the need to react as though I'm made of glass, and he tells me regardless of whether I want to hear it or not.

"Yes."

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Any theories?

Again, sorry about the short chapter, I'm trying to get back on a schedule, and if I can do that then the longer chapters might make another appearance.