Mitch's P.O.V.
I was released from hospital a week after the collapse of the house, going to live in a smaller rental until it was rebuilt. The damage wasn't too great, just the one room, but it would take a few months at least to fix the water damage and rebuild it; so until then, we were in a single storied, two bedroom rental just down the street.
The only thing I was glad for was the fact it was only one floor. What with a broken hip I could barely move from one end of the house to another even with help and I was on crutches permanently, for at least 2 months. For almost three weeks I couldn't even bathe because of the row of staples in my hip and Jerome had to help me with everything- sitting and standing, walking, getting around the house, all the basics.
I was also drugged up on pain meds for quite a while and my reality was a little... skewed. Jerome put up with me simply because he had to and later I knew I would never hear the end of all the stupid shit I managed to do while on those things, but I really didn't mind. I just wanted to recover and get back to normal to be honest, in our normal house with my set up.
I groaned as Jerome helped me sit up, flinching in pain as I leaned on my hip. The staples were due to come out in the next couple of days but I wanted it to happen then because I was sweaty and greasy and gross from weeks without a shower and sponge baths really didn't help, despite Jerome's best efforts. Jerome's hand gently squeezed mine, his other arm around my waist.
"Alright?" He asked softly as my feet hit the floor. I nodded tiredly.
"Mm." I mumbled, wincing. "Just tired."
"You can sleep once we're downstairs, okay?"
I nodded. Jerome was well used to me falling asleep at random times, honestly I was sleeping about 16 hours a day as a result of the healing and being on the pain medication. I did exactly that the second I fell onto the couch and Jerome crawled in beside me, careful to avoid my hip, and let me bury myself in his chest. I sighed happily, closing my eyes.
"Sleep tight Mitch." He whispered, already running his hand through my hair. "I love you."
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Physiotherapy was a pain in my ass, especially as I was still drugged up on pain meds. I hated every moment I spent in that bloody room with a coach telling me to do this, do that, do things that caused quite a fair amount of pain and honestly I didn't think it would help. It only caused more pain and I grew to resent it, no matter what Jerome told me.
"Mitch?" Jerome gently shook me awake and I groaned, already mad. "Come on babe, you've got physio in an hour."
"Don't want to." I muttered, burying my head back in my pillow. "Too tired."
"Mitch..." He said, already sounding frustrated. "You've got too, it'll help you get better."
"Well it doesn't freaking feel like it." I hissed, glaring. "It's only making everything worse."
"Mitch!" Jerome snapped, throwing his arms out. "You know physio is to help you get better! Don't be like this!"
"Just go away Jerome." I muttered, closing my eyes again. "I'm not going."
I heard Jerome storm out of the room and it didn't take long for the tears of frustration and anger to begin to flow. I hated it, I hated this, I just wanted all this bullshit to be over and I wanted to be back in my own house in my own bedroom without this stupid bloody injury. Why did the house have to collapse?
Jerome left me alone for the rest of the day, leaving at some point to go and do something. I didn't really care, frankly I couldn't care less, I just wanted to be left alone so I could wallow in my misery and watch YouTube videos, pretending that nothing was wrong. I felt like shit.
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I must have fallen asleep at some point because I next opened my eyes it was completely dark and I was still alone. Jerome must have decided to sleep on the couch, that or he hadn't even arrived home, and although I felt a pang of sadness for yelling at him earlier I decided that I still didn't care. The only problem was I was no longer sleepy and after half an hour lying in bed, bored to tears, I decided to get up. One problem- I still couldn't walk.
With much difficulty I fumbled with my crutches, turned on the light and bumbled my way down the stairs, not caring if I woke Jerome. I just wanted to get out into the fresh air.
Pushing open the front door I made my way around to the backyard, not wanting to go through the living room in case Jerome was there. Yes it had only been a little tiff but he had gone off in a huff and I could hold a grudge if I wanted too and I was going to hold it.
Somehow I managed to get downstairs and into the backyard without tripping, falling or ending in a lot of pain so I finally settled down on a deck chair, kicking my legs up. It was peaceful, sitting out there in the dark with nothing to think about. I was still pissed, seething in the back of my mind. Jerome had no idea what was going through my head or what I was feeling and he was just making it worse.
I huffed, complaining to myself, and leaned back in my chair. My head hurt and although I wasn't tired, I just wanted to sleep.
I was glad when my head fell back and my eyes closed, a restless sleep taking over.
-------------------------------------------------------
"Oh Mitch..." Jerome voice was soft and I barely stirred, simply shifting my head. I could hear him though, even if he didn't know that. "God... I'm sorry for getting mad at you."
He sounded genuinely upset and after a moment of his hand brushing my hair away from my forehead he leaned down and scooped me up in his arms, making sure to avoid hurting my hip. It didn't move, not wanting to alert him that I was awake and had heard him and I only pretended to stir after I had been laid down on my bed. Jerome stayed too, his hand slipping into mine as I groaned and finally blinked, opening my eyes.
"Hey Mitch..." Jerome breathed as my eyes found him. I closed them again. It must have been morning by that point, light streaking in through my curtains. "You okay?"
"Mm." I mumbled, turning away from him. "Fine."
"Look Mitch..." He said, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry that I got mad at you yesterday. I know you hate it and I know you don't think it's helping you but... just- you gotta trust me on this one. The doctors know what's best for you and it's to help you."
I didn't reply, just kept my face turned away from him. As much as I trusted him I really couldn't see the benefit of physio and after so many weeks, almost 3 months actually, of bidaily sessions while seeing no improvements, hell, no change at all, I was getting sick of it. And it annoyed me that Jerome couldn't see that.
"It's been three months Jerome." I mumbled, pissed. "And nothings changed. I don't want to keep going."
"Mitch." He said sharply, catching my attention again. "I know you can't seem to see the change, but you have been getting better. 3 months ago would you have been able to get down the stairs on your own? I know you hate it because you're still on crutches and still need help but remember, the doctor said it'd be another month or before you can even think about walking on your own."
I blinked, thinking about it. Just last night I had gotten down the stairs on my own- there was no way I could have done that even a few weeks earlier. Jerome continued.
"I know you want everything to go back to normal but it isn't going to happen overnight. You have to be patient and give it a little more time. I'll be there, every step of the way."
I gave him a flicker of a smile and leaned up, wrapping him in a tight hug. When we pulled away there were tears in my eyes.
"Thanks Jerome." I half sobbed, wiping my eyes. He smiled, brushing my hair out of my eyes again.
"It's alright Mitch." He whispered. "I know it's been a disaster over the past few months but it'll be okay. I promise."
