(a/n: Trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions of suicide, mentions of death, mentions of terminal illness)
Chapter Twenty-Seven Word Count: 6905 words
Niall's got his knee propped up on a pillow as he lays down on the tilted exam table, just looking at the MRI pulled up on the computer screen in front of us. I'm not really sure what a normal knee's supposed to look like, but I imagine it's not like that. Niall's got a piece of plastic or metal in his knee, I'm not sure which, and I suppose it's from when he got it reconstructed a few years ago. The swelling in his knee hasn't gone down at all, and I know it's making him nervous. When the swelling persisted all day yesterday, we made an appointment with his orthopedic surgeon right away, and were lucky enough to get an appointment for the following day. I know it probably has less to do with luck, though, and more to do with the fact that Niall's an incredibly famous millionaire.
Nonetheless, when Niall's surgeon comes in and greets us as he sits down on the chair in front of the computer, I can immediately tell that there's definitely something wrong with Niall's knee. The doctor's frowning clearly, and jotting something down on a clipboard.
"I've fucked it, 'aven't I?" Niall asks, and the doctor just looks back at Niall, smiling lightly and shaking his head with a small laugh at Niall's joke.
"In my professional opinion, Mr. Horan, yes, you've fucked it." He replies, and Niall smiles at that. I like how casual this doctor is with him; it's definitely making Niall less nervous. The doctor uses something on the computer to navigate around Niall's scan, and he pinpoints a few problem spots and prints them out so they're a bit easier for all of us to see.
"See right there? You've got yourself a proper pain tolerance as always, Niall. You've partially ruptured your tendon here." The man says, handing Niall a printout and pointing to a spot on the scan. I don't really know much about knee injuries, but that doesn't sound good.
"Will it need surgery?" Niall asks, shifting back up a little bit on the table, evidently uncomfortable. I feel something against my hand and look down just in time to see Niall's fingers curling around mine, so I give them a reassuring squeeze.
"I'd like to keep you out of surgery for as long as possible, but if you re-tear again," The doctor pauses with emphasis on the word again, making Niall flush embarrassedly, "I think we'll have to operate." Niall nods gently, understanding that he really needs to be more careful or his third surgery will be happening sooner rather than later.
"So what we're going to do is get you in an immobilizer for three to six weeks," He pauses, "You've still got crutches?" He asks, and continues when Niall nods, "In two weeks you'll come back and we'll see how it's healing, and how long you'll have to be off it." Niall huffs a bit, but nods. I know he's got to be annoyed. He can't move his knee for three to six weeks, and can't put any weight on it. At least he doesn't have to have surgery, though. The doctor makes it a point to mention the recovery time for that is closer to six months to a year, so Niall really needs to follow what he's been told carefully in order to avoid that.
"I'd really like to give you something for the pain that might take the swelling down, but I know that can be a bit tricky with you." The doctor tells Niall, but I'm a bit confused. Why would that be tricky because of Niall? Couldn't they just prescribe him something? I think Niall notices the confused from on my face because his hand reaches up to my chin, his thumb brushing over my puffed out bottom lip.
"It's alright. I'll be okay." Niall says, and I'm really not sure if he's talking to me or the doctor. Maybe both.
"Are you absolutely certain?" The doctor says, looking back at Niall over his shoulder, away from the computer screen, "It looks like I can prescribe you something that will only conflict with the anxiety medication." It makes sense to me then: why it might be difficult to prescribe Niall any medication. He's already on at least five or six medications daily, and those are carefully chosen to work well with one another, or at least not conflict. He absolutely cannot take conflicting medications; that could be deadly. Niall's got to choose between soothing his physical pain or maintaining his mental health, and that's so incredibly scary. He's evidently extremely unsure, and looks to me apprehensively. It's almost as if he wants my opinion. Could Niall really want my opinion?
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Without a Clue {Diall}
Fanfiction"It never leaves. It never goes away. Why won't it go away?" Niall's secretive, always has been, but no one could've ever guessed that he would hide something this big. It turns out trying to cope with your past is a lot harder when you're hiding fr...
