You have had heart problems since childhood. Damiano felt like he was in a horror movie when he found out about your heart failure, how you suddenly needed a transplant. Despite his panic that he could lose you, he did everything he could, he provided you with the best doctors possible, he was with you even though you were unconscious.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet hospital room, the IV line taped carefully to your arm. You woke up a few minutes ago

You felt… strange. Not in pain, not exactly, just—different. Like something inside you wasn’t entirely your own.

“Finally awake, huh?”

His familiar voice. Deep, rougher than usual, like he hadn’t slept in days. When you turned your head, Damiano was already there, sitting beside your bed, elbows on his knees, exhaustion written in every tense line of his body. His hair was messier than usual, his hoodie wrinkled like he’d been living in it.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before exhaling sharply. “Do you have any idea how many doctors I had to harass to get updates on you? But I'm so glad everything is good now...”

Your throat was dry, but you managed a small smile. "That many?”

He huffed a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. That many.”

A pause. His gaze dropped to the hospital bracelet on your wrist, his fingers twitching slightly like he wanted to reach for your hand but wasn’t sure if he should.

“You’re okay now,” he said, softer this time, like he needed to convince himself as much as you. “The transplant went well. Your body’s accepting it.”

Your chest tightened—not from pain, but from the sheer weight of those words. A second chance. A future you weren’t sure you’d ever get to have.