Doctors Orders | La squadra x Reader

10| And He Doesn't

Someone has to leave first. This is an old story. There is no other version of this story. 

There is a voice screaming in his head, "You must break this fixation on love as the cure to all of your ills. If you found love right now, you would run it straight into the ground in seconds."

But the flowers are already in his hands. The door to the infirmary is just around the corner, if he could just find the will to move his feet. 

The nurse is likely oblivious to his presence just beyond their room, going on with their day as they remain in bed, doing whatever it is they do to pass the time. They don't know of the silent torture he's going through, the internal battle of wits that his own mind is fighting with his body.

Move, move. Why won't you move?

The time comes where something finally breaks him from his spell, the heavy footsteps of someone coming close. 

Should whoever that is see the embarrassingly large bouquet of flowers in his hands, he'd dig himself a hole in the ground and never come out.

But then as he rushed to get inside (Y/n)s room, his failure to realize that he was now faced with confronting them hit him like a sack of bricks. 

The fear of being ridiculed overcame his fear of confession, and for that he didn't know whether to be thankful or upset.

In either instance, it was still a good thing that he had decided to come at all, for all the wrong reasons.

He had hoped he could get a date in, tell them all about how they make him feel over something nice, dinner or a walk on the beach. But Illuso is gone. After he left, he wasn't seen again.

Risotto gave him an assignment to distance him from (Y/n), to give him a space to calm down and gather himself, but Illuso didn't grant him the liberty of returning. His body was found bubbling and melted.

Melone knew he was next. There was something in the way Risotto looked at him, like he was already aware of what was bound to happen. He was already grieving. But he still gave him the assignment anyway.

But maybe, if he gave himself a reason to come back, then he would. Perhaps he could be spared from the pattern slowly forming. Perhaps (Y/n) could be that reason.

"(Y/n)," He called, "Are you in here?"

"Melone!" A voice squealed one room over, "Hi!"

Have you ever noticed how wanting burns you up from the inside out? 

"There you are, I've missed you!"

"I missed you too!"

Like one moment you are whole,

"Look, I've gotten you something to help you get better!"

"Oh, what is it?"

But then you hear their voice on the phone,

"Some flowers, nearly as wonderful as you are."

"Aren't you sweet!"

And you swear to god, three blocks away from there, they can smell smoke.

---

Melone set the arrangement onto their lap, and he watches in delight as they weigh it in their hands, marveling at its gaudy size. They feel up each stalk and gently prod the bud of every little flower, acknowledging the life of each as if they're of any more importance than just accessory.