Setting the duffel bag by the couch, you looked at your boyfriend who was pouting and grumbling under his breath. His left leg was elevated to prevent any more swelling on his already-gigantic knee.
"Oh shush," you told him, grabbing the shirt he discarded earlier and handing it back to him, "you're hardly the first athlete to get injured," you squeezed his shoulder, "come on surfer, let's get you to the doctor."
He sighed loudly, letting his head fall to the backrest, "I don't want toooo," he whined, "I already know what he's gonna say, I already heard it a million times."
"Yeah?" you sat down next to him, "what will he say?"
"I need surgery," he deadpanned.
"Well, duh," you laughed, "of course."
"A reconstructive sugery," he continued, ignoring you, "they will graft a tendon or whatever and put it in my knee."
"Didn't they tell you not to consult Web, MD?" you laughed, "Bennie, you'll be fine. Stop freaking out."
"Then I'd have to clean the wound everyday because if I don't," he started to sound worried, "or if I mess it up, it's going to get infected."
"As is with most wounds," you smiled, squeezing his arm, "babe, you'll be fine."
He looked at you like it was the end of the world, "I'm gonna have to go to rehab and sit out for a while," he sighed, "look at the first draft pick sitting out of his first season," he chuckled sarcastically, "how the hell did that happen?"
"Babe," you leaned to kiss his cheek, "it happens to the best of people," you shrugged, "you're going to be fine," you smiled, "you're overreacting."
"I'm overreacting?" he asked, pointing to his swollen knee, "I can hardly walk, let alone play."
This was probably the most frustrated he's ever been since he came down with the injury a couple of nights ago. You weren't there so you didn't know what exactly happened but he's saying that he landed quite well and then hear a snap and sudden pain. The tests said it was a torn ACL, which was one of the most common injuries to happen to basketball players.
To make it worse, he waited his entire life to play in the NBA and now this is what happened.
You brushed his hair with your fingers, "I know it's not an ideal situation," you told him carefully, "but everything will fall into place, hmm?"
He shrugged, turning his head to sigh loudly, "I guess I can't do anything about it now, huh?"
You shook your head, "nothing short of time travelling," you laughed, "though, think about all the movies you get to watch."
He looked at you pointedly, "think about all the games I'm gonna miss and the physical therapy I have to put in."
"Don't be such a crybaby," you chuckled, "physical therapy is just like working out, you'll be fine. You looove working out."
He chose to glare at his knee again, "fucking ACL," he looked back at you, "I hate it."
You tapped his arm, "wait here while I get the saw," you grinned.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"I mean if you hate so much," you shrugged, "let's just cut it off," you laughed.
"Ha-ha," he said in a monotone, "you're so funny, how did I ever land such a funny girl like you?"
You batted your eyelashes at him, "I think it has something to do with the love potion you gave me on our first date."
That made him laugh, at least, "I'm pretty sure I was the one who drunk the love potion in this relationship."
You stuck your tongue out at him, "dream on," you laughed, "you know I could have Stephen Curry for me if only he were single."
He wrapped his long arm on your shoulder and pulled you in, "I was drafted first overall," he reminded you for the second time in three minutes.
You scrunched your nose, "Steph Curry has a championship ring," you grinned, "you still got a lot to prove, bud," you scratched his chest, "but you don't have to prove anything to me," you winked.
"Really?"
"I've smelled you after practice, just before showering," you chuckled, "and I still love you so we'll get through this injury, okay?" You bounced on the couch, "this is nothing."
He sniggered, "and I've seen you demolish a whole piece of cake in one sitting," he nodded, "I agree," he laughed, "this is nothing."
You nodded, pulling his face closer to you, "yeah?" you asked, scrunching your nose, "that's why you had to taste the huckleberry from my mouth," you grinned and kissed him, "you were sooo turned off by my cake eating skills," you grinned, kissing him again.
Ben snaked his arm around you and trapped you in place, kissing you back, "I didn't say I was turned off by that," he chuckled, "I love your cake eating skills."
"I love you too," you kissed him one more time, "but you're not getting out of this appointment."
"Ughhh," he groaned, "the sooner the better."
