Roberto lets out a low whistle as he steps into your hospital room, one hand in his pocket, and a bouquet of flowers cradled underneath his arm. Probably to replace the vase of flowers on your bedside table from when he was visiting a few days ago. He thinks the hospital room needs a little bit of color, or so he told you when you asked why he kept bringing them.

When he sees you awake, he wiggles both brows up his face, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Well, you look like sh*t.” He tells you, though his tone would indicate that he’s just teasing. Besides, he’s already making himself perfectly at home in the room, arranging things to his liking so he could be comfortable enough to sit with you. He doesn’t wait for you to invite him in, he just gets to it. This has pretty much become routine for you both. Whether it be Roberto talking your ear off when you’re too tired to entertain yourself, or sitting down next to you and doing work when you need a break from everything. He seems to always be hovering.

You’d been hurt. Pretty badly. When he was supposed to be watching your back and he wasn’t, like some kind of idiot. So, in taking responsibility for what he feels is his fault, he’s been visiting you nearly every day in the hospital. He’s coddling you, no matter how much he tries to play it off as his usual attitude. Or that he’s just here to tease you.

He replaces the flowers in the vase, and sits himself down in the chair next to your bed, propping up his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap like he owned the place. Actually, he might own the place. He was pretty vague about it the last time you asked.

“I brought you snacks.” He tells you, holding up a half-eaten box of some fancy brand of chocolates. “Well, I got hungry on the way here.” He flashes you the most charming of grins, “But I brought you snacks.” You’re not entirely sure if you’re supposed to be eating expensive chocolates in your recovery, but the gesture was almost sweet.