I Love You But I Can't Breathe

Chapter Seventeen

The day Harry came out of his appointment in a wheelchair, Louis didn't say anything. He just opened the doors for him, and helped lift him into the car. He opened the trunk and managed to get the chair inside.

"I'll be right back, babe," Louis said, rushing back into the physio office for a quick word with Harry's therapist. "Why is he in that?" Louis asked, practically chasing Aiden who was halfway down the hall and clearly off to another patient. 

"Harry's not comfortable walking around anymore," Aiden explained. "I've talked it over with the doctors, and we all think this is the best solution for now. It's also easier for him to bring his oxygen tank around with him, since we know he hasn't been using it as much as he's supposed to."

Louis averted Aiden's gaze guiltily. He knew Harry was supposed to be hooked up to his oxygen tank at all hours of the day, but it tugged his heartstrings when Harry's tube got caught on things when he was walking around, and as his boyfriend stopped wearing it during the daytime he didn't try and force it on him.

"If he's waiting in the car you should go back to him," Aiden said. "We can talk after his next session if you'd like, I have a client waiting."

"He can still move his legs," Louis insisted, but the second the words came out of his mouth, he started doubting them. He had basically carried Harry to his appointment, and otherwise the younger boy had spent most of his time sleeping the past few weeks.

"He doesn't have control over which leg he moves anymore," Aiden said. "With all the nerve damage going on right now, Harry's just more comfortable being in the chair. It was his suggestion. He's tired, Louis. I know you want him to be how he used to be, but he's just not capable of the same things anymore."

Louis flushed and looked down guiltily, thinking of the last time him and Harry had made love. Harry had been all smiles, pressing his giggles against Louis' neck, but he'd slept for the better part of the day afterward, hooked up to his oxygen tank and hardly stirring when Louis brought him meals. 

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

Louis headed back to the car and pulled out of the parking lot slowly. "Do you want pizza tonight, hun?" he asked. Neither of them seemed to want to talk about the elephant in the room- or the wheelchair in the trunk in this case. 

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. 

"How are you feeling?" Louis asked, trying to keep from gripping the steering wheel too tight. One of them had to be strong, and he wasn't going to put that onto Harry. 

"I'm... it's just a lot, Lou, it's a lot right now," he said softly.

"I know," Louis said, reaching over to give Harry's thigh a quick squeeze like he usually did when they were driving, but his hand startled back when he realized he wasn't sure if Harry could feel it anymore. Did nerve damage mean he couldn't feel things? 

He could see the hurt flash across Harry's features as he pulled his hand off too soon, like Harry was contagious. 

The green eyed boy turned to look out the window. He'd been wearing sweatpants most days, no matter how hot it got in the stuffy little house of theirs. Louis couldn't coax Harry's sweatpants past Harry's upper thighs no matter what they were up to, and Harry wouldn't even get into a bath anymore unless there was enough foam in it to cover his rash. 

Louis pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, awkwardly parking the car and hoping out to get Harry's new chair. He knew Harry wanted desperately to shut himself in his room right now, but that wasn't an option anymore. 

Instead, Louis clumsily pulled the chair out of the trunk, accidentally bumping it against his arm hard enough to bruise before he managed to get it onto the pavement.