WDW Sickics/Oneshots

Brain Surgery Pt. 3 // Zach

Read Pt. 1 and Pt. 2

(Ps, there will be no Pt. 4, but I'm honestly glad I did a Pt. 3)

Also please put requests for my Marvel book that I'll be making!

It's been a total of six weeks since surgery.

Zach still can't walk very well, stand for long periods of time, or be left alone.

He needs help bathing, dressing himself, and being taken to physical therapy and back.

But, Zach doesn't feel like anything's changing, or getting better.

He repeats the same routine every day, of every week, never branching out of it.

And it gets exhausting.

The boys keep telling Zach, "just be patient", and "it'll get better".

But for him, it was becoming hard to believe anymore, and he was ready to just give up.

Tuesday morning...

Zach's POV

I can't walk.

I can't stand.

I can't bathe.

I can't dress myself.

I can't be left alone.

So what can I do, you may ask?

Absolutely nothing.

It feels really powerless being confined to a wheelchair, and having everyone else doing everything for you.

The boys say they don't mind, but even if they don't, I'm still a lot to take care of.

I take a shower every other day, and luckily we bought a chair off of Amazon that allows me to sit inside the shower.

Of course, one of the boys still lifts me in, and one person has to stay in the bathroom to make sure I don't die or something.

I can put on my shirt, shoes, and socks, but I can't really stand, so I have trouble putting my pants and underwear on.

It's not like we haven't seen each other naked, but it doesn't make it any less awkward.

Right now, I'm laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how shitty my life is.

Waiting, for Jonah to come and wake me up, just like every morning.

Then he'll help dress me, I'll eat breakfast, and go to physical therapy for an hour and a half.

But who's keeping track?

I know I am.

The days keep dragging on, and time seems like it's getting slower and slower.

I hear a knock at my door, coercing me out of my thoughts.

"Come in", I say.

As the doorknob turns, I see that expectedly Jonah is in the doorway.

"Morning. You have physical therapy in an hour", he says as if I don't already know.

I sit myself up, letting the blanket slip off my shoulders.

Jonah walks over to my closet, and gets a black hoodie, along with some Adidas sweatpants.

"This okay?", he asks shutting my closet door.

I nod.

I take my shirt off and throw it in my laundry bin by my wall.