Doctors Orders | La squadra x Reader

8 | I Just Wonder

"You haven't been eating lately."

Melone winces at their harsh tone. It was a wonder, how the blind member of La Squadra managed to notice before those that could see. 

He sits on the medical bed with a shy expression, head sunk to the floor with his back hunched. Delicate hands move sweetly along his skin, feeling the arch of his spine, the dip of his waist. 

 If he was any less of the man he was, he would've broke. He'd be crying his soul out, pulling himself inward in the hopes that the earth would split and swallow him whole.

 He can hear the disappointed breath that leaves (Y/n) in a sigh, the dreadful drag of their fingers along his stomach that beg no more.

"Yeah, I tend to forget every now and again." Melone tries to laugh it off, yet he can't seem to let out more than a deflated wheeze. Their hands trail between his abs now, feeling the sunken plush of his flesh react coldly to their touch.

"You know that's only half of the truth," (Y/n) huffed, "You haven't been eating at all recently. I don't recall hearing what you ate yesterday, nor the day before. Are you starving yourself?"

"What-? No! I just--" He adverts his gaze to the wall. "It's just a bit of a struggle to remember, and my stomach doesn't really growl or give me pains when I don't eat.."

"Do you need reminders, then?"

"If they'd work. I sometimes try to eat when I do remember, but most of the time I can barely bring a spoon to my mouth."

"Where do you often eat?"

"My room."

"I see. How about you start eating with me then, at least two meals a day?" They suggest with hesitant hope. "You'll have someone to share food with, maybe it'll encourage some calorie intake. You're already so thin, you might as well turn into a bag of bones."

"A bag of bones?" He repeats with a laugh, which quickly turns into a cough. "Fine, two meals a day. That's it?"

"To start out with, yes. I don't need you forcing too much food down your throat at once."

Right. Two meals a day with the nurse, at least. After all, he still needs a bit of muscle to even be in the profession at all, so maybe this'll work out. He could only hope.

The days pass in a jumbled blur, and he finds that the little meetings they have are a tad more pleasant than he thought. He isn't facing a plate made of a sloppy sandwich he barely had the energy to put together, or a half eaten bag of chips he stares into with disdain, wishing it tasted more like steak, or at least left him satisfied like one.

Unfortunately, it seemed the day that would deliver such satisfaction was cut short. All he wanted to do was give them a cake, their love of sweets hopefully enough to raise their favor in him.

They could've shared it over a nice glass of lemonade outside on the porch, or at a picnic somewhere no one else could bother. His little nurse with the sun in their eye, cake beneath a cool shade with just him to entertain.

But that wasn't possible now. A shower of chaos had swallowed the infirmary again, far worse than before. Glass shattered, needles strewn like bones, bottles of medicine leaking into the dips of the tile and wood. 

(Y/n) was nowhere to be found however. They were not crushed into the corner like before, which was now filled with debris and the depressed bodies of broken things. 

When he finally felt panicked enough to look, which didn't take long, he found them with Pesci in his room, who was patching up whatever injuries they had visible. The cake was left the warm on the counter in the kitchen. 

"Oh, you're back." Pesci noted, turning around. "Didn't hear you come in."

"What happened?"

"Another freak out, nothing major." 

"It's worse than last time."

"It is, and their injuries reflect that."

A quick look only confirmed what he said. Bruises, blood, cuts, a blacked eye. It was like they got into a boxing match with everything in the room, then lost.

A guilty frown twitched at their lips, which were cracked and sore and glistened with fluids. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, I don't mind cleaning you up." Pesci said, adding another bandage.

"But you shouldn't have to, I'm the nurse, I take care of you."

"That's fine, but we're a team, so we're supposed to take care of you, too."

The hitman stopped and looked at his lap, searching. "Shit, out of disinfectant. Melone, watch them for me while I grab some?"

He nodded, moving out of the doorway for Pesci to shuffle past before entering the room himself. It pained him to see them like that, and one could only wonder the kind of panic they went through if the end result was like this.

Quietly, a little announcement was made that he was in the room, and (Y/n) seemed to relax, as if they didn't hear him before. He took a seat beside them on the bed. 

"What happened this time."

They opened their mouth to speak, eager, but then closed it again. They seemed to consider something. "The same thing as last time."

"This has happened a few times now, right? Is there anything that's making you act out?"

Something shot through them, and they seemed to gain a sudden courage. They pulled themself upright and took in a breath, body tensing in anticipation-- then all at once, they lost it, and deflated again. "...No."

"You ran after me the other day, scared. Surely there must be something?" 

"There's nothing!" They yelled. "I mean- nothing. I'm just being dramatic again, I'll-- I can get over it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. It's nothing."

"Alright; well, I went out earlier and passed a cake shop," Already, he could see their face brighten, "I thought you might've liked some, so I grabbed a small portion and--"

"Yes please!" He stared at them, amused, as they fumbled to correct themself. "I mean, can I please have a slice? Please?"

He assured them they could have as many slices as they pleased, there was a whole cake for them to enjoy. It had hard not to gush at the delighted face they made.

Pesci stopped him on the way to the kitchen, souring his happy mood with the concerned expression he had. 

The palm leaf-like hair he had seemed to wilt, and his face pulled towards the grown in a frown that was uncharacteristic for someone like Pesci, who was typically scared, not whatever this emotion was. 

"I don't think something's right," He said, leading him to the infirmary. The place was mostly picked up, matters like glass and broken expenses still there, but picked up.

"You know, (Y/n) often breaks down more than you know, but it's never destruction like this. I'll find them often when they think everyone's gone, waiting for a few hours before becoming anxious, and hiding in their room."

Pesci ignored the glass sinking into the soles of his boots as he walked into the room, examining it. "Every time I find them, it's the same. There's never been a mass chaos like we see now. That only happens when nobody, absolutely no one is here."

"What are you talking about?"

"To be honest, I don't know. I've noticed also that a few items that were damaged before are untouched this time. The test tubes, the blinds, the mirror, the hospital bed, those are perfectly fine."

"They probably were spared of their panic."

"Probably. But knowing that these events of destruction only happen when absolutely no one is home, and that not everything was completely destroyed, it makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"I'm not sure. I just wonder."