Chapter Text
May 19, 2015
Day 1
Living with a terminal illness can be a stressful venture. Those who were permanent residents at St. John's (which is short for St. John of God Hospital), knew nothing more than to just twiddle their thumbs and wait. One such resident was a young Italian man by the name of Romano L. Vargas, however, unlike the many residents who still held hope that they would be cured and be able to go home, he was rather pessimistic.
He knew that he was not ever going to leave, that sort of hope had been smothered during his first visit to the hospital when he had been admitted as a terminally ill patient. Today marked the fifth month anniversary he had been staring up at sterile, white tiled ceilings, counting the decorative markings that ran throughout each tile. Approximately, there were six thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight little holes and about nine hundred and thirty-four tan stripes streaked all across one particular tile.
A wry grimace tugged at the corner of his lips, his right arm was draped over his stomach- rising and falling with each breath as he inhaled and exhaled. A solid beep followed each inhale, making Romano conscious of his ever dwindling heartbeat. He was currently at a steadily dropping ninety over sixty. At each beep, his left eye twitched in annoyance, a suppressed groan also left his lips. In all honesty, he wished the damn heart monitor would stop making that annoying sound.
Romano knew he was going to die, he didn't need the constantly beeping machine to keep reminding him. His empty room was a reminder of just how utterly alone he was in the world. No one had come to visit him during the past three months, not even his brother, Veneziano, who moved too far away to even try anymore.
Being a stage three patient was just a pain that Romano wanted to end.
It was nearing three when the quiet, soft spoken nurse named Matthew approached Romano for his daily check up, this time, the nurse stayed a bit longer than usual. That did not really bother the Italian, what really bothered him was the new information the Canadian spoke with a bit of hesitation. After all, it was because of this hesitant way of speaking that Romano even tolerated the him.
"Romano, later today," Matthew chatted, tucking a bit of his long, honey blond hair behind an ear as he wrote the subtly changing signs of the Italian's prone form upon the purple clipboard he tended to carry, the one with a giant sticker of a sunflower on the back, "You will be receiving a new roommate for a little bit. Don't you think that will be good? You'll finally have someone new to talk to besides me."
"Hmph," Romano huffed, not in the mood to ever speak more than necessary. If it was not to tell him that he had less than five minutes left to live, then he didn't think it would be worth his time to even bother voicing his opinion on anything else, "whatever." He mumbled after a minute, turning his face away from the nurse to stare at the windowsill he could never see over.
Later that day, Matthew and two more nurses; who introduced themselves briefly as Nikolai and Arthur, wheeled in the new roommate Romano was to share his room with. Just like him, the new roommate was terminally ill, but unlike the dismal Italian, the new guy...was happy. Disgustingly happy.
"Hola, amigo! Mi nombre es Antonio Carriedo!"
Great. That was all he needed, some Spanish speaking airhead who acted as if he were given the god given cure to all that ails the sick and pained. Romano suppressed a loud groan, turning his head away from the Spaniard to face the closed door. It honestly made Romano a bit sick to even glance at the cheery, ear to ear splitting smile. The kind of smile Antonio wore was one that was so grand it made his eyes close just to be used as an expression. It made Antonio look ridiculously stupid, but what irritated Romano the most was that the Spaniard was given the bed closest to the same window that the Italian had been trying to see out of for five months. Now that that was taken away from him, Romano spent the remainder of the day sulking and staring either at the ceiling or at the door from out the corner of his eye. There was no way he'd ever speak to Antonio, much less acknowledge the Spaniard, because he knew that if he were to attempt to get to know the idiot, he'd get close, but with knowing that they both were terminal...
Yeah, ignorance is definitely bliss, Romano decided, shifting a bit to face even more of the door. He let out a heavy sort of sigh, closing his eyes and concentrating on trying to drop his heart rate further. Antonio, though, seemed pretty keen on grating the Italian's nerves by quietly humming some sort of Spanish ballad...concerning tomatoes? Beneath closed lids, Romano rolled his eyes, tucking himself further beneath the heavy hospital sheets as he drifted off into another one of his dreamless naps, the sound of Antonio's voice masking the harsh beeping of the heart monitor.