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"Den?" Abbot leant against the bathroom door, "are you alright? You've been in there for a while,"
"I'm fine," a whimpering voice called out from the overflowing bathtub,
"I don't exactly believe you," he chuckled softly, running his heads through his hair as he thought about his next options.
Staying there for far longer than he should've, he wanted to help, be of service. Hearing the distinct sounds of the plug being pulled out, the water sucking down the drain. Coming out wrapped up in a towel, he was a little stunned to see Abbot still standing outside.
Watching Dennis hobble back to their room, clutching onto the thin material for dear life.
"Would you let me help, please," Abbot plead, following meer inches behind,
"I'm fine, I've been through this before."
Limping his way over, he braced against the bed. The sound that escaped him caught both Abbot and Robby's attentions. Looking up from the book he had been enjoying, he shifted off the backboard of the bed.
"Den…" his voice floated off, unwilling to ask what he truly wanted to.
Sliding off the bed, he helped Abbot move him into a better, more central spot on the bed. Feeling as the two of them loomed over him, he wanted to cry. His joints barely had held on this week, every night he had come home in quiet pain. Not wanting to be a bother, he did what he always did, bottle it up and hope it'd get better. A few good nights of sleep and a day off from moving usually got him back to baseline.
But it was cold, far colder than it had been all year. He hadn't been able to shake the pain off. Pushing through it only made it worse, and he knew it. But there was too much at stake for him to even fathom slowing down.
Laying in the centre of the bed, shivering as the first tears slipped down his cheek.
"Please, can someone just get me some pjs," Dennis groaned out,
"Of course," Robby leant in, gently kissing his forehead.
The two of them sat him up carefully. Each small, pained wince that he let out stabbing into them. Getting on his pjs as fast as they could, easing him back to a more supportive position.
Feeling Robby's worry grow, Abbot didn't know what to say. He couldn't find the words to be comforting.
"Den, how did we end up here sweet boy," sitting down beside him, "please talk to me,"
"Everything hurts, so much," his words cracked out as he cried harder,
Looking between them, silently Abbot and Robby debated.
"Where does it hurt?" Abbot ask as he walked around the bed before he joined them.
Rubbing his back gently, even that caused him to whimper. Pulling back, he sat away from them, letting Robby take over the comforting. He was best at it, he was far more of the warm and senstive one. Diving into research from the limited information Dennis had offered up, he wanted desperately to find a solution.
"Joints, all of them, hurt," shuffling himself onto Robby's lap, using his thighs as a wedge to align his neck and shoulders,
Playing with his hair, letting him cry it out. Whispering quiet affirmations to him until his tears gradually dried up.
"Den, are you able to tell us what is happening?" Abbot looked up from his phone, trying his best to re-engage.
"I over did it, that's all, I'll be ok," downplaying, he wanted nothing more for everyone to move on.
"Den." Abbot sternly asserted, not letting him off the hook,
"It's fine, really, this just happens sometimes, I'm fine,"
Neither of them believed a word coming from him. They could see the agony he was in, and even then he had masked it.
"Den, if this has happened before, why haven't you followed up with any medical care?"
Dennis was assured he hadn't meant to ask such a loaded question, but there was no succint way to reply. There were so many reasons why he didn't get help, why he didn't want help.
"Please Den, we want to help, but we can't if you don't talk to us," Robby interjected, attempting to keep the conversation moving,
"I don't know, alright, too many reasons I guess, I'll be fine, I promise."
It was so pecular for him to be so uncooperative. He was typically so willing to discuss anything, no topics before now had been shut down in this way.
"I get that, but it's important to get help if you need it,"
"Well, yeah, but I don't need it, so just drop it, please, I just need to sleep."
Permitting him, there wasn't much point pushing further tonight. He clearly wasn't in his right mind enough to have the conversation.
Guilt riddled, Robby got ready for the day as quietly as possible. Having decided that Dennis had unofficially called out for the day. Pulling Abbot's old wheelchair they had tucked away in the garage out. He gave it a thorough wipe down before writing a small note.
"Use it today.
No you don't get a choice.
Yes I am forcing you.
I love you, see you tonight."
Leaving it next to the bed, ensuring it was easy for him to transfer into after he awoke.
His eyes locked onto the chair, rolling them before turning over. He had no plans of acknowledging its existance. Cuddling himself closer into Abbot, he prayed he too would ignore it.
Sleepily, his body forced him out of bed in need of the bathroom. Growling as his feet made contact with the floor. Hanging his head, he could tell already today was going to be painful. Trying to get himself to his feet, he bit down on his lip in an attempt to muffle the noises.
"Robby left it there for a reason kid, just use it," a half asleep voice muttered out.
Ignoring him, he pushed his way to the bathroom. Collapsing down, he couldn't bring himself to stand to go.
A tired Abbot stood unamused in the door frame, his hands firmly rested against the push handles.
Bracing his waist against the sink as he washed his hands, he knew he had to stop fighting it. Rest had always made things better, but if felt like defeat using a mobility aid. Besides, it didnt feel necessary, he should be able to walk around just at home. Weighing out his options, he looked over at Abbot, blocking the path out of the bathroom.
Finally sitting down, he felt humilated as he was pushed into the main living area. Positioned at the edge of the kitchen, Abbot had every plan to keep an eye on him as he cooked them both breakfast.
"Are we going to talk about what's going on?" Abbot sounded earnest, keeping his composure calm.
"Depends on what you want to discuss," shying away from an actual answer.
Waiting him out, Abbot knew he'd crack eventually under the growing weight of silence.
"Fine, ugh, I'm just in a bit of a flair up, I don't why you two are making it such a big deal,"
Dwelling over the hot stove, Abbot was poised with what he was going to ask, and how.
"Did you see anyone when this started?" The question threw Dennis a little,
"I guess not. I was a little kid, they were just called growing pains, but it sorta just never stopped."
"Jesus Den," his frustration seeping out as he slammed the spatula into the counter, "I'm sorry, that's just not right."
Grumbling over the clear medical neglect, Dennis wanted to defend his upbringing. But there was nothing that he could say that wouldn't make his parents come off even worse. It wasn't that they didn't care, they just didn't know better.
A memory of himself as a child passed through his mind. Of him sat in the bathtub sobbing as his mother consuled him. Rubbing his knees as the stabbing pain intensified, the warm water was no match for the pain.
Grateful to be pulled out of his thoughts by Abbot moving in close to him, bending down to eye level in front of him.
"Den, I would really like it if you saw someone for this, I'd make me feel better knowing you were getting even a modicum of help," rising to his feet, he released the breaks, before walking around. Leaning into his ear from behind, he snickered "and I know it'd get both of us off your back."
Despite not exactly agreeing, he didn't see much harm in placating the pair of them.
Getting Dennis postioned at the table, there was no point transferring him out of the chair given the furniture was all bought at a time when Abbot was still ambulatorily using the wheelchair. It slid neatly under the table, allowing for Dennis to be roughly at the same height he would be typically when sat at the dinner table.
Placing Dennis' food down in front of him, the steam bellowed high off the eggs and bacon, which had been sweetly shaped into a smiley face.
"You start, I'll be back in one sec," kissing the back of his head before ducking off from view.
Eating quietly, the house felt so huge when neither of them were around. Finishing up as a overly cheery Abbot came back in.
"We are going to see an old buddy of mine in about an hour," his smile practically wrapped around his head.
Dennis was able to put two and two together, knowing exactly what kind of "buddy" Abbot was talking about.
Looking through Dennis' section of the wardrobe, Abbot did his best at picking out something comfortable for him to wear. Physically changing Dennis as he remained in the wheelchair, he shouldn't have been so suprised this was a skill Abbot possessed.
Trapping Dennis in the car, the gps read nearly 2 hours they'd be stuck together. Turning up the music he had helped Abbot set up via Bluetooth, he prayed he would be allowed silence, permitted to stare off into the open road and pretend they weren't going much of anywhere.
"Did you know you are using my old chair?" Abbots voice brought his hopes to a holt, feeling obligated to engage him at least a little,
"I did not," replying honestly,
"I didn't know how long before I'd be able to even walk again, let alone half the shit I get up to these days," his attempts to make things lighter only dampened Dennis further.
It was different, so unbelievably different. He wasn't going to be able to fully recover from this, sure things could hypothetically improve, but the risk of regression was far too real. He let Abbot talk it out, knowing that cutting him off in anger wouldn't be for the best.
"What I'm trying to get at, is just have a little hope, ok."
Arriving at a shiny new medical centre located in the middle of nowhere, a singular name placard hung on a large board.
"Whitaker here to see," abruptly cutting himself off as him and this buddy of his caught eyes, "my man it is good to see you."
Embracing in what can only be described as a 'dude-bro' hug, the pit in Dennis' stomach sank deeper. It was all very real suddenly. Getting wheeled back, the two of them caught up over Dennis' head. He couldn't be all that mad, not wanting to really be all that involved in the appointment anyways.
Listening as Abbot explained what had been going on, he sat uncomfortably in the chair. It was a little shocking how much Abbot and Robby had actually picked up on.
The appointment felt like it lasted a decade. By the time he was being wheeled out the sun had significantly moved over. He had been loaded up with new medications and a couple referrals to try, with the presumed diagnosis being H-EDS.
He had always been told to look for horses not zebras, not having imagined for a moment that the phrase would come back to bite him so hard.
Getting back home just in time for Abbot and Robby to essentially hand over care, he felt a little pathetic as the two of them talked about him at the foot of the bed.
A new alarm sound chimed about 30 minutes later, breaking the calm the two of them shared as they read together in bed.
"What was that for?" Dennis asked, suspicious of the noises Robby was making as he suddenly started rifling through the side table.
"Med time sweet boy, Abbot's orders, you got complaints send them to him," he replied half-joking, not wanting to take the heat from his likely refusal,
"Later, I'm in the middle of a chapter," keeping his eyes locked in on the book in his hands.
"Den, please don't make this hard on me,"
"If Abbot wants me to take them so badly, he can do it himself," mumbling to himself, he didn't want to start a fight, "besides, he only said I had to go to the appointment, nothing about meds or anything,"
Saying the latter a smidge louder so Robby could hear him.
"Why are you being so resistant?" Robby finally snapped, rising to his feet,
"Why do you two think you know best for me? Why do you two get to override my wishes,"
"Because we don't want to see you in pain."
Leaving Whitaker alone in the bedroom, they both needed a moment to cool off. They had fought so much recently, Dennis couldn't help but feeling as if it was all his fault.
Following him out a short while later, opting to wheel himself around to find Robby. He wasn't going to apologise, simply make amends so they both could feel better.
"I hate fighting with you," his voice cracked as he discovered Robby out on the porch,
"Come here, hey, there's no reason to cry, I'm sorry," lifting him into his lap, holding onto him tightly, "this is just a tough season, I promise, neither of us are going to leave you."
Rubbing his back gently as he slowly calmed Dennis down, it was evident these tears were about so much more than their spat.
Hearing familiar boots walking towards them, the air shifted.
"Den, I promise, Jack will hear you out, but you have to give him a chance to talk too."
Joining them on the outdoor furniture as he held two small cups with him.
"Explain." Raising an eyebrow it was clear Robby called in the re-enforcements,
"I don't know if I want to take them," seeing the look in his eyes, Abbot could tell he was scared.
"Den, what exactly is your concern bud, you'll not feel better?" Trying to come off as empathetic as he glanced over his watch, knowing he had to be back ASAP,
"I don't know, I don't do this, I don't take medication, I've always just toughed it out," looking away, he pressed his nose deep into Robby's chest, "I don't want to be stuck on meds forever."
"Sweet boy, it's ok, at any point you're allowed to stop, but I'd really appreciate you trying them out first, please."
It was a trap, Dennis knew he wasn't going to really be allowed to stop trying so long as they cared for him. Rolling his eyes before unburying his face, he took them reluctantly.
Opening his mouth wide to show he actually took them, Abbot's fingers slid right in. Feeling them check deep into his gum line, they swept across his teeth as his mouth was forced to remain open. Searching under his tongue one last time before feeling truly satisified he had actually swallowed them.
"You're a good boy, I hope you know that, if you start feeling off or anything please just tell Robby or message me, I love you sweet boy."
Leaving the two of them back to their own vices for the night, he couldn't help but to worry over potential negative side effects. A part of him was scared he pushed Dennis too hard into taking them, but he had to, Dennis needed a shove in the right direction.
Messaging Robby an hour or so later when he could rest his feet a moment, he we relieved to hear he had practically passed out after taking them. Knowing that with the opioid in the mixture he was going to be knocked out until the next day filled him with ease.
Seeing Dennis up and moving around the next morning was opitimistic. His movements were still pained but manageable. Abbot was able to rest his weary head, knowing things were going to keep improving.