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afolderfullofstories · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022: Day 28

Note: 19 days completed as of 31/10/2022. Kind of sad I didn’t complete this year. But as I began missing more and more days, i didn’t really expect to complete it. But honestly 19 days was way more than I expected so there’s that. Everytime I’m convinced I’ve written everything I possibly can with this three, inspiration strikes and there’s something new (at least I hope so. I hope i’ve not been leaving you with rehashes of the same story) I’m not sure if I’m going to continue filling the rest of the whumptober prompts or move on to another prompt list. But if this is the last whumptober fill, I just wanted to thank everyone for your support in my stories. Believe me everytime I feel like stopping, I just scroll through my notes and I’m determined to write more. Thank you.

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Luigi rested his head on his arms folded on the table. The migraines were getting worse. A good night’s rest usually made it better. But he couldn’t sleep. Not with the pounding in his head. He didn’t know how many aspirins he’s taken but nothing seemed to help.

“Asshole.”

Luigi groaned. He lifted his head. A sharp throbbing pain shot through his head and he buried it back into his arms. “The light was fucking off for a reason.”

There was a click of the light switch. Footsteps approached him. “Brother?”

“Go away.”

“Are you alright, brother?” His sister’s voice was soft and full of concern. Bullshit. She was probably going to start nagging about the amount of work he had left. He would fucking see to it. He just needed to get the pounding to stop.

“Fine.” He growled. He lifted his head. His vision swam. Both his sisters stared at him. He put his head back into his arms. Lifting his head was not an option.

“Take the day off.”

“I’m fine. Just give me some fucking time alright?” But he had been lying there for almost an hour. The pain was not getting better. He wasn’t useless. He could deal with this.

“Have you been to the doctors?”

They both knew he hadn’t. Doctors were a useless waste of time. He would get through this. “It’ll pass.”

“They’ve been becoming more frequent.”

Luigi growled. “Have you been fucking spying on me?” His head shot up to glare at her. White spread through his vision as nausea burned in his gut. He buried his head deeper in his arms, breathing heavily to push back the nausea.

“Spying sounds so invasive. I was just getting updates.”

Luigi rolled his eyes. Fuck. He had to get himself in check. If his gophers knew he hadn’t been well enough to report to Amber, he was being transparent. “Mind your own business.”

“When’s your last medical check-up?”

Luigi groaned once more. “Fuck off, Carmela!”

“Fine.” Amber called his gopher into the room. “Luigi’s taking the day off.”

“Slu-”

“Please arrange for a medical check-up this afternoon and ensure he goes there.”

“I told you to mind your own fucking business.”

“Come up to me and tell me that you’re fine.”

Luigi lifted his head. His sister was standing to his left. No right. Fuck. Stop fucking moving. He stood and his vision turned black for a second. He caught himself before he toppled over.

“You’re not fine, brother.”

“It’s just a fucking migraine. It will pass.”

“You’re seeing the doctors today.” He turned to his gopher, gophers? How many did she fucking summon. “If he doesn’t go, inform me at once. I’ll send the GeneCops to drag him.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just have a check up, brother. It won’t kill you.” Amber left.

Luigi groaned and buried his head into his arms once more.

“Mr Largo?” His gopher squeaked.

“Just arrange the fucking thing or she won’t leave me alone.”

Luigi’s brows furrowed as he watched Dr Smith enter the room. “I thought the other doctor was handling it.”

“My colleague is afraid you would stab him if he told you.”

Luigi scoffed. “I’ve heard the whole spiel. Less coffee, more sleep, more regular meal times. What else could he tell me that’s new?”

Dr Smith’s face was serious.

“Is it bad?” He’d probably wrecked his liver again with all his drinking. He could just have it changed. It wasn’t a big deal.

Dr Smith was silent. His features were stiff.

Luigi forgot how to breathe. “How bad?”

Dr Smith sighed, “Mr Largo, the brain scan showed…”

Luigi just listened quietly. He heard the words but it felt like the television in the lobby, just background noise. He just stared blankly forward. He saw the lines on Dr Smith’s face and he realized just how old the doctor was. Pops never got to be that old. But pops lived his life. He built GeneCo, was married thrice, had 3 grown children. Luigi would never have that. Not that he ever wanted children but…he would never have any of that. He-

“Mr Largo.”

Luigi didn’t react. He just stared silently forward.

“Luigi.”

Luigi's eyes darted back to him. There was no pity in his eyes. Luigi was grateful. The other doctor was right. Luigi probably would have stabbed him. “Is that all?”

Dr Smith sighed. “Yes. I’ll give you time to process. Then we can discuss treatment options. There are still options, Mr Largo.”

Luigi stood and left. Process. What was there to process? Luigi always knew he would never grow old. It was just a feeling he always had. He knew he would never grow old. So what was this fucking pit in his gut. He didn’t care what happened to him. He didn’t care if he lived or died. So why couldn’t he breathe?

He wanted to be more like his pops right? He’d get to die like him as well. Something clenched in Luigi’s chest and he had to stop. He was going to die. Treatment options, his foot. They would have done everything to save pops if they could. They couldn’t. Pops didn’t have long. And neither would he.

Something clenched once more and he couldn't breathe. He slammed his fist into the wall. Something in his chest loosened. He slammed his fist once more. Why was he even surprised? With the way he treated his body. The lack of sleep, the overdose of coffee. Why did he expect any different? Luigi slammed his fist into the wall once more. His eyes burned but he forced it back. Why the fuck did he care? He didn't want to live right? This was just helping him. He-

He slammed his fist and a loud crack resounded from his hand. Luigi let out a curse and grabbed his hand. He slid down the wall. Why did he fucking care? He never cared before. Why the fuck did he care?

“Mr Largo.”

Luigi looked up to see Dr Smith looking at him in concern. And the nurses and staff were staring as well, whispering. Fuck. There were too many people looking at him. Why hadn’t he gotten back to his office first? There were too many eyes; too many people looking.

Dr Smith bent before him and examined his hand.

Luigi tried to pull his hand back but Dr Smith held firm. And there were too many people fucking staring.

“It’s broken.” Dr Smith said softly.

Luigi looked down at his swollen fingers. What did it matter? He was broken. What was one more bone or two? He was broken.

“It needs to be set back. Follow me back to my office.”

Luigi wanted to leave. He just wanted to go back to his own office and have peace. But there were too many eyes on him. He just wanted to get them off him. Stop fucking staring. They got what they wanted. They wouldn’t have to deal with his temper anymore. They would be fucking done with him. They-

Luigi just nodded numbly and got to his feet. He just stared forward and followed Dr Smith. He felt eyes on him but he refused to meet them. They would talk. They would fucking talk.

Luigi didn’t say anything as Dr Smith led him to the x-ray room. Nor when they took the x-ray. Nor when he brought him back to his clinic. He just sat there staring forward. The pain in his hand was a welcomed distraction. But it didn’t do much.

“The bones aren’t displaced. We’ll just put it in a cast and let it heal by itself.”

“No cast.”

“It'll take longer to heal if it gets displaced.”

“Those two assholes will ask too many questions.”

“Luigi.” Dr Smith sighed.

“I don’t need them asking questions.”

“What your father did to you was cruel. Don’t do the same thing to them.”

Luigi gave a sarcastic smile. “I thought you said there were treatment options.”

“There are. Doesn’t change the fact that you should tell them.”

“Mind your own fucking business.”

Dr Smith sighed and looked at his hand. “If you refuse a cast, I would insist on a splint. I would make it thin enough that you could hide it under your gloves. Would that be acceptable?”

Luigi just grunted.

Dr Smith placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up, Luigi.”

Luigi pulled off his glove and stared at his hand. It was beginning to turn purple. He pressed against the worst of the swelling. Pain shot through his finger, jolting him. He could breathe.

Treatment options. What a joke. More like ‘let’s see what shit they could put him through before he dropped dead’.

Surgery wouldn’t remove the tumor. But they could remove what they could and reduce the pressure in his brain. No more headaches and colors. Or they could fuck up and he could be paralyze or blind or mute or deaf or-

Luigi pressed against his finger once more. The pain cleared all thoughts. He didn’t want to think about this anymore.It wouldn’t change anything. Nothing he did would change anything.

Luigi’s eyes darted as there were sounds at the other side of the door. He just numbly listened as Pavi struggled with trying to open the door. He’d locked it. He didn’t know why he never thought of it before.

“Fratello?” Came his brother’s annoying voice from the other side of the door.

“Fuck off.”

“Is-a something wrong, fratello?” Pavi’s voice was serious. He hated it when Pavi’s voice was serious. It meant he was looking for something he could fix. But Pavi couldn’t fix him. He was broken.

“I’m just not in the mood.”

Luigi could hear his brother outside the door. He was probably deciding whether or not to listen to Luigi and give him space. The bastard had better listen. He didn’t have the mood to deal with his bullshit and he’d probably lose his temper.

“Are you sure, fratello?”

Luigi just grunted. He needed time. He needed to decide what to do without his siblings hounding him about it. He would tell them…eventually. He wouldn’t do to them what pops did to him. But…he would be sure first. If there really was no hope, he would tell them…maybe.

“The Pavi is-a just-a downstairs, fratello.”

Luigi sighed, “I’m fine, Paviche.” What a load of fucking crap. He wasn’t fine. He would never be fine. He was going to-

Luigi’s eyes burned. He pressed hard against his finger. He let out a curse as blinding pain filled him.

The door crashed open. Luigi’s eyes darted up. Amber stormed in followed by Pavi. Fuck. What did they want?

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Amber headed straight to his table. But Pavi stayed behind. But Luigi could see his gaze, studying him. Fuck.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit. You’ve ignored us for the past two weeks. You’ve stopped coming for meals even when you’re home; refused to show up for any meetings; you haven’t said a fucking word to us. What the hell’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit brother. Something is wrong. You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Oh yea, how?” He was sure he was acting like usual. He made sure he wasn’t suspicious. Sure, he avoided those two assholes. But it was nothing different than how he was before pops died.

“For one, you won’t even look me in the eye.”

Luigi glared at her. Fuck. He hadn’t even realized he was avoiding her gaze. Luigi saw the worry in her eyes and his eyes darted away. She didn’t need to know.

“See?” She hissed. It wasn’t worry. She was just annoyed that he wasn’t answering her summons. She was just annoyed he wasn’t acting like her fucking lapdog. She wasn’t concerned. Why the fuck would she be concerned?

“Fuck off, Carmela.” Luigi’s eyes went back to the document before him. His eyes darted to Pavi for a moment. He didn’t say anything but he still stared at him with the same calculating gaze.

Amber slammed her hands on the table. “You’re going to tell me what the fuck is wrong, right now.”

“Nothing is wrong. Stop being such an annoying bitch and leave me the fuck alone!” And now that he was noticing it, he still couldn’t meet her gaze. He said he would tell them. But there was nothing to say. It wouldn’t make a fucking difference to anyone. He would deal with this on his own. He didn’t need anyone. He would fucking deal.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Are you deaf or just fucking dumb? I told you nothing was fucking wrong. Go and run GeneCo and leave me the fuck alone or are you too useless to fucking do that?” She wouldn’t leave. She still wouldn’t fucking leave. He needed her out. He needed her to leave him alone. “Pops was right, you’re fucking disgusting and disappointing. Better yet, how about you go deal with the mess you call a face and leave me alone.”

“Fratello.”

Too far. He always went too fucking far. But the worry was gone from Amber’s eyes and all was left was anger and hate. Good.

“Go fucking drop dead.” She turned around and stomped towards the door.

‘Yea well, you’re going to get your fucking wish.’

“What did you say?”

Luigi looked up and saw Amber’s wide eyes staring at him. “I didn’t say anything.” His eyes darted towards Pavi and the same concerned gaze met his. Fuck. Did he say it out loud? He hadn’t…He was sure…

Amber headed back towards him. “What the hell did you say?”

“I said I didn’t fucking say anything. You fucking hearing things?”

Amber’s eyes darted towards Pavi.

“What did you mean, fratello?”

Fuck. They both heard it. Why the fuck did he say it out loud? Why the fuck was he so fucking careless?

“Brother!”

Amber was right before his table and he still couldn’t look at her. He needed to fucking look at her or she wouldn’t believe him. His eyes darted upwards and he saw the worry and he looked away. This was what he wanted to avoid. He didn’t want this. They couldn’t help him. What would them knowing change? “Fuck off, Carmela.”

“All this happened after I told you to go to the doctors.”

“I’ve just not been in the mood, Carmela.”

“Tell me. Or I will go to the hospital and find out for myself.”

“The doctors won’t tell you shit. It’s in their code or something.”

“So there is-a something to tell, fratello?” And again, Pavi’s voice was serious, too serious. And that wasn’t Pavi. That wasn’t his brother. He was stupid and annoying and not fucking serious.

"No there isn't."

"Fine. I'll ask the fucking doctors myself. They 'will' tell me what's wrong since I pay their fucking salary. Besides, you’re an employee of GeneCo. Legally, they can show me your medical records.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Luigi stayed silent.

“Fine.” She turned and headed to the door.

“Stop!” Luigi stood. A sharp blinding pain shot through his head. “Fuck!” He grabbed his head. The pain was overwhelming. He dug his fingers into his skull trying to relieve the pain. But it wouldn’t go away. He crumpled back into his chair, his hands in a vice grip around his head.

“Brother!”

Luigi couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. The pain was overwhelming. And he just needed it to stop. He was going to make them more suspicious.

“Brother…”

Pavi was beside him. He was searching through the drawers. There was a sound of pills shaken around in the bottle. “Take the aspirin, fratello.”

Luigi shook his head and another sharp pain shot through him. He let out a yelp and buried his head deeper in his hands. “No aspirin.” The tumor was vascular. Aspirin increased the risk of it bleeding out. He couldn’t…The pain shot through him once more and he was desperate for anything that would stop the pain.

“Then-a what, fratello?”

“Lights.” Luigi mumbled. He heard the click of the light switch but the pain didn’t lessen. He gripped his head tighter.

“I’ll get the doctors.”

“No.” Luigi forced out. “Left upper drawer. There’s painkillers in there.”

Pavi dug through his drawer. Once more there was the sound of pills shaking around in the bottle. “Here, fratello.”

Luigi downed the pills. Nausea built in his gut and he forced it down. He laid his head on the table willing the pain to stop.

“Brother…”

“Just give it a fucking minute to kick in.” Luigi was breathing heavily. The pain was getting worse. The medication the doctors gave him was doing nothing to reduce the swelling. Surgery seemed to be the only option. But he didn’t want-

Fuck. His pills were in the same drawer.

Luigi’s head shot up.

Pavi was staring at the other medication.

The fag wouldn’t know what they were. He was too much of an idiot. He wouldn’t realize…

“Fratello. What’s all this?” Pavi’s voice was serious.

“Migraine medication.”

Pavi’s eyes darted towards him. His eyes were hard. “Fratello, I helped clear papa’s things. These are…”

“Migraine medication. Just more symptoms he never bothered telling us about.” Luigi said, trying to push down the guilt in his chest. He said he would tell them. They would worry over nothing. They couldn’t do anything for him. Why tell them? It wouldn’t help anyone.

“You’re a terrible liar, fratello.” Pavi headed towards Luigi’s alcohol cabinet.

“Brother…what’s going on?”

“Nothing. The migraines are getting worse, that's all.” The pain had faded to a dull throb and Luigi could think again. Fuck. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let them figure it out. He just needed to make up a more believable story.

“Pavi, you know what’s going on.”

Pavi didn’t say anything. His back was towards them. Luigi just watched him silently pour himself a drink. He knew.

“Pavi please.” Amber’s eyes darted towards Luigi. Fear filled her features as her eyes darted desperately between them.

“Tell her, fratello.” Pavi still refused to turn.

“There’s nothing to fucking tell.”

“Wasn’t-a what papa did to us bad enough? You’d-a do it all over again!”

“Lu, tell me what’s going on!”

“There’s nothing to fucking tell. If you won’t believe me that it’s nothing, then there’s nothing more I can fucking say.”

“Fine. Sorella, call-a the doctors.”

“Pavi-”

“If there’s-a nothing, then there’s-a no reason we can’t-a ask the fucking doctors.”

Fuck.

Amber made the call.

Luigi watched her hand shake. They were figuring it out. He had to find a way to stop this. He didn’t want them to find out. He needed a fucking story. He needed to figure something out.

“Brother…”

Luigi refused to look at her.

“Pavi.”

Luigi’s eyes darted to his brother who still kept his back towards them. Luigi watched him down the drink. Fuck.

The doors opened, breaking the tension. Dr Smith walked in.

Relief filled Luigi. Dr Smith wouldn’t be threatened by his siblings. He respected Luigi’s privacy. He wouldn’t say anything.

“Dr Smith,” Pavi’s voice was hard. He still refused to turn to face them. “I was-a having problems deciphering the medication of-a one of-a our clients, to see if-a they were worth-a investing in.” Pavi’s voice was cold and sarcastic. “What is-a Avastin used for?”

Dr Smith was silent. “Mr Largo, there is a thing called doctor-patient confidentiality. I can’t disclose patients' records.”

“I’m-a not asking you to disclose anything. I just-a want to know what-a Avastin is-a used for.”

“It would depend on the patient. There are many things Avastin could be prescribed for.”

“What is-a it usually prescribed for?” And Pavi’s voice was low and dangerous.

Dr Smith’s eyes darted towards him. They knew. He wasn’t keeping this from them any longer. But he wanted to. He didn’t want to deal with this. He just wanted to ignore it and pretend nothing was wrong just like he always did. He just… Luigi sighed. His eyes met Dr Smith’s and he nodded slightly.

“It’s primarily used to stop tumor growth.”

“What?”

Luigi couldn’t look at them. He focused on his hands. He gripped his middle finger and pressed down. The sharp pain distracted him. He needed a distraction.

“How-a bad?”

Luigi heard how sharp Pavi’s voice was, the pain in his sister’s voice. He didn’t want this. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He just wanted a bit of normalcy. He wanted…Why hadn’t he pretended better? Why did he avoid them? He should have pretended…

“How-a bad!?” Pavi never raised his voice. His anger was always quiet and promised retribution. This yelling wasn’t his brother.

“Luigi?”

Luigi shut his eyes. The words were clamped in his throat and he couldn’t say anything. But they knew, they already knew. There wasn’t a point of hiding things now. He gripped his finger tighter. The pain loosened his voice. “Just tell them.”

Dr Smith sighed. “It’s a brain tumor, similar to the one your father had. But Rotti’s was diagnosed too late. The cancer had already spread to other organs. The tumor is relatively contained in his brain.”

“How-a long?”

“An oncologist would be able to give you a better answer.”

“You would-a have discussed it with-a them. How-a long?”

“6 months without treatment.”

“And-a with?”

“It’s difficult to tell without having a clear view of the tumor and seeing how much we can remove.”

“Just-a an estimate.”

“It’s difficult to tell.”

Luigi gripped his finger once more. The pain dulled the growing tightness in his chest. “He doesn’t want to tell me.”

“Because you will give up and you know it. Even now I’ve asked you to make a decision regarding treatment and you refuse to do it. Instead you’d rather sit there feeling sorry for yourself. The earlier we start treatment, the better the prognosis.”

Luigi was silent and refused to look at him. He still wouldn’t give him a time frame. It meant it wasn’t long. He knew it.

“Younger patients survive longer. But we’re talking about aggressive, early treatment.”

Luigi could only stare at his hands. He didn’t want to look up and see the disappointment in Dr Smith’s eyes.

Dr Smith sighed. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t…that wasn’t fair.” He took a breath. “The oncologist will deal exclusively with your case. I can’t…I can’t remain impartial and that isn’t fair to you.” He turned.

“I just need to know how long. I just want to know what to expect.” Luigi just kept his gaze down. “Whatever the average is, I need to know.”

“A year.”

Luigi shut his eyes. The grip around his finger tightened. But the pain was not enough to get rid of the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry.” The door shut.

Luigi clenched his eyes shut. He gripped his finger harder. Anything to keep it all down. Anything to keep himself numb. A year. What the fuck was a year? What could he even do in a fucking year? His breaths were heavy. He had to keep it all down. Not now. Not while those two assholes were still in the room.

“Brother?”

Luigi kept his eyes shut. He didn’t want to look at them. He didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes. He had to deal with own pain. He didn’t want to deal with theirs.

Arms wrapped around him. “Everything’s going to be alright, brother. I promise. I…I just need you to fight. Ok brother? Don’t give up.”

He wasn’t giving up by choice. He didn’t have time. What was 6 months? What was a year? He was running out of time.

“You do this all-a the time, fratello. You keep-a pushing us away.”

“What would knowing change!? It’s done nothing but put a fucking countdown on my head.”

“Wouldn’t you have liked to know papa was sick?”

“What difference would it have made? We couldn’t have helped him. We couldn’t have done anything.”

“But-a wouldn’t you have wanted to know?”

He would have wanted to know his father was running out of time. He didn’t know if things would have been different, if he would have been better. But he wanted to have been there for his father. He wondered if the opera had been his father’s way of lashing out. He was used to lashing out. Now he just felt numb. He should be fucking used to this. “Yes.”

“Were you really not planning on telling us, brother?”

“I was. After I made a fucking decision.” He sighed, and his shoulders crumpled and he just felt exhausted. “I don’t know what to do, Mela.”

“Take the treatment. It would buy you more time.”

“6 months. What the hell is 6 months?”

“It’s 6 months more!” Amber choked out. “6 months.” Amber covered her mouth with her hand. Her shoulders shook. Her hand clamped tighter as she desperately tried to fight back tears.

Luigi looked away. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He didn’t want to see this. He wanted them to live the next 6 months in ignorance… He… But this wasn’t just about what he wanted. “Mela…”

Amber shook her head desperately. Tears streamed down her face. She tried miserably to silent her sobs. “Don’t. I should be…I should be…” She took deep breaths trying to calm herself down.

“What’s-a the difference, fratello? What’s-a making you avoid treatment?”

“Pops was…he wasn’t healthy per se but he was still him. He could still go to the opera. He could still work. He must have been well enough if we never noticed.” Or they were too self-centred and blind. “Even if it bought more time; it would just be going in and out of hospitals. The side effects would make things worse. It wouldn’t be living.”

“Then-a you’ve made your decision?”

Luigi looked back at his hands. He’s been avoiding it all this time but… “I think so.”

“Brother, please. I know it’s selfish of me. But please. If there’s a chance…”

Luigi closed his eyes. This was too familiar. A sibling begging him to try. And he had, just to make Pavi happy. But it worked. He would be dead now if he never listened. But this was different… This was…

“The headaches are getting worse, fratello. You won’t-a be living your life in-a pain like this.”

“Maybe surgery then. Just to reduce the tumor. They think the headaches are caused by the pressure. But the complications…” And he didn’t want to admit it but he was fucking terrified. He didn’t want to go into surgery and take away that 6 months. He didn’t want to come out more broken than he already was. But the expanding tumor would cause more symptoms. His vision was already going. If they left the tumor, he would lose his vision.

“Then-a let the dottari remove what-a they can and-a see. If-a they can remove a good-a portion of-a it, if-a they think-a the chances of survival are good after the surgery, then-a why not-a try?”

Luigi stared at his hands then nodded. It seemed so simple now. He’s been grappling with the decision for 2 weeks. But it just seemed so simple now. “And if I still decide not to proceed with chemo?”

“That’s-a your choice, fratello.”

“Brother-”

“It’s-a his choice, sorella.”

Luigi still kept his eyes on his hands. But it was as if a weight was lifted off him. He had felt stuck for so long, trying to grapple with the right decision. Trying to figure out whether it was kinder or crueler to his siblings to tell them. But now they knew and he couldn't do anything about it. And he could finally breathe.

"You didn't-a have to do this-a alone, fratello."

"I know. I was afraid."

"Afraid of what, brother?"

Luigi was silent.

"You're an idiota, fratello."

"I know." Luigi felt a hand on his shoulder. And he was too tired to fight or protest. He was too tired to pretend.

“We’re here, brother. We’ll be here. Just don’t push us away. Please.”

Luigi couldn’t say anything. He just nodded. He felt his sister hold him once more and for the first time since he got the fucking diagnosis, he didn’t feel alone. If 6 months was all he fucking got then he wasn’t going to fucking waste it.

#whumptober2022 #no.28 #it's just the tip of the iceberg #anger born of worry #punching the wall #headache #repo! the genetic opera #fic #terminal illness tw #swearing tw #Luigi Largo #Pavi Largo #amber sweet

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