Anthony woke to the feel of Tobias headbutting and nuzzling him, kneading his stomach, the sound of the deep, rumbly purr and the rain falling softly outside. He opened his eyes and smiled at the cat, who walked up and headbutted his face hard, and he began to stroke the grey fur, watching as Tobias settled into a loaf beside him, continuing to knead the blankets. For a few minutes he just lay there petting the cat, listening to the rain, warm and cozy in his blankets, perfectly content and peaceful.
Then when he looked at the clock, and the 2016 calendar he had hanging on the wall - birds, with a new bird every month - the content feeling went away. It was New Year's Day. When he had started 2015, he had been able-bodied. He hadn't yet been traumatized by the car accident.
He had survived the accident. His concussion, broken ribs and dislocated shoulder had eventually healed. Now he just had scarring on his arms and chest and back, he continued to need a cane after the spinal contusion, and he had PTSD from the accident and very likely would never get behind the wheel of a car again, when he had once loved driving. But when he had woken up the day after the accident and wished he hadn't... all things considered, this was a much better outcome than he had envisioned for himself a year ago. He wasn't completely recovered, he never would be, but nonetheless, he'd had some healing. Life wasn't perfect, but it was in many ways better than it had been before the accident. He wouldn't go as far as to say the accident had been a "blessing in disguise", but he doubted he'd be living with Sören if the accident hadn't happened. And though they weren't back together yet, living with Sören was still comforting, filled that Sören-shaped void inside him at least somewhat.
Yet, even though the accident had opened certain doors for him, it was still a tragedy. He was bitter about the way people looked at him with pity when he was out and about. He was bitter about the way society expected him to treat his disability like "a life lesson" and something to be grateful for, the myth of being able to "overcome" rather than struggle with the hardships... and he was also bitter for the fact that he had it easier than disabled people who weren't white, weren't male, weren't from class privilege, his heart sick at the injustices built into society. He was bitter about the fact that if he re-entered the gay dating scene, his handicap absolutely would be a dealbreaker for many image-conscious gay men, and those that didn't dismiss him right off the bat might once they saw him naked and saw his scars. He loved Sören because he was Sören, not because he took Sören's love for granted and thought Sören was "what he could get", but when he'd woken up from the accident, getting back together with Sören did not seem remotely within the realm of possibility.
Someone else had lost their life, and his own had been complicated. And though he was managing for what he could do with his limited mobility, and had found workarounds or help for what he couldn't, the mind was not as easy to heal. The accident had felt not simply like a defeat, but a visceral reminder of how fragile and short existence really was. He would never truly be safe. Something else could happen to him or someone he loved, anytime, and there was nothing he could do about it. Living with the constant feeling that the other shoe was going to drop sooner or later was not a fun way to live.
It had been almost a year, and it had felt like forever with very little progress - it felt like part of him was still trapped at the scene of the accident, reliving it over and over again, reliving the utter hopelessness he'd felt when he'd opened his eyes on the hospital bed. That feeling of wishing he hadn't woken up. He was at least not sorry to be alive now, and he had hope for his future that he didn't have a year ago, but there was at least as much fear as there was hope, enough that it made him think hope was dangerous. Shattered hopes was one of the worst feelings in the world. He had survived the shattering of his body; he didn't know if he could survive the shattering of his heart all over again.
Anthony lay there, feeling leaden, wishing he could just hide in bed until the day was over.
But he didn't. Both Helen and his new therapist - an older man named Edmund, assigned because Helen's availability conflicted with his schedule - encouraged Anthony to distract himself when he was triggered, rather than spinning his wheels. And Anthony didn't want to cause alarm, as he knew he would if he lay in bed all day. Sören was stressed out enough during the week, he didn't want Sören to worry about him.
Nonetheless, as Anthony tried to go about his business as usual that day, he felt like he was suffocating under a dark shroud of his gloom, his mind continually replaying the accident, and waking up in the hospital like it had been a horrible nightmare... those first few weeks of utter despair and defeat. And Sören was attuned enough to his moods that throughout dinner, Sören kept giving him concerned looks.
A little while after dinner, Anthony excused himself to his room. "I'm not feeling well," he said. That wasn't entirely a lie - he felt soul-sick.
He had been laying down for close to fifteen minutes when there was a gentle knock at the door and Sören's soft voice. "Hey, you OK?"
Anthony sighed, not knowing how to answer that.
Sören opened the door a crack and then Tobias pushed the door open wider and came trotting in. He hopped up on the bed and gave Anthony headbutts, purring loudly. Anthony chuckled as he stroked the cat's fur and kissed the top of his head. Sören gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and gave Anthony a knowing look, eyebrow raised.
Anthony knew it did no good to lie about it. "It's New Year's Day and that got me thinking about a year ago. Before the accident. Which led to thinking about the accident and how much my life changed."
"Oh." Then Sören's eyes widened as it fully registered. "Oh."
"Yeah." Anthony frowned. He sat up a little and folded his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be a downer, so I didn't want to bring it up -"
"What did I tell you about that macho pride shit?" Sören gave him a stern look.
"OK, but this isn't that, it's not wanting to be a burden -"
"Cornelius." Sören's eyes narrowed.
Anthony's eyebrows went up. He was almost amused by Sören calling him by his given name, knowing when Sören Sigurðsson was formal, he meant business. But his amusement was chased by a prickle of fear - he didn't want Sören to think he was falling back into the same behavior patterns that had caused an issue before and decide not to give him a second chance, in time. Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and winced a little. "I mean it. And... I was trying to distract myself for my own mental health, rather than ruminating. I felt if I mentioned it, it might... not help."
"Distraction is good sometimes but sometimes you need to talk about things. I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to talk about it, but..." Sören shook his head. "I don't know that keeping it inside is good either."
"I don't even know where to begin, is the problem." Anthony took one of the pillows and hugged it. Tobias took that as his cue to climb onto Anthony for hugs. Anthony hugged the cat instead, petting, listening to the deep purr.
"First thing that comes to your head."
"This is the new normal and I know it could be worse, and I feel guilty complaining when I know there's people who do have it worse, people who didn't survive..." Like the other driver. "But I still..."
Sören nodded. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being disabled, but you have a right to feel however you feel about your disability, too."
"Thank you. I feel like there's this... pressure to be happy about it? And I don't want to take away from people who feel that way. But my life has changed so much." Anthony looked at his cane, and back at Sören. "And having this kind of challenge with mobility at almost-thirty-six, I wonder if I'll be even more slowed down when I get to be Nicholas's age."
"Maybe, maybe not. A lot could happen with medical breakthroughs between now and then." But then Sören looked sad, and Anthony knew what Sören was thinking: in thirty years Nicholas would probably not be alive, but they probably would be.
Sören quickly got off that subject, looking uncomfortable. "Go on. I know there's more."
Anthony sighed. He heard footfall coming up the steps, and he thought about waiting, but Sören was giving him that expectant face. "I feel like a monster." Anthony swallowed hard. "Someone died. I logically know it wasn't my fault, but..."
"You're not a monster, but it is normal to feel guilt, even though you're not guilty." Sören gave a rueful little smile. "I feel like a piece of shit every time one of my patients dies, even if it's not my fault and I did everything I could do."
"I know." Anthony remembered the time he'd held Sören all night when Sören had lost a patient on the operating table. He reached out to take Sören's hand, and Sören squeezed.
Once Anthony went to bed, the sleepiness faded and he was wide awake, laying there, his mind once again replaying the accident over and over, the first few days and weeks of rehabilitation, all of the helplessness, hopelessness, the feeling of alone. He began to cry - even as far as he'd come, it was like he hadn't completely left that awful place.
Anthony tried to keep the tears down, not wanting to disturb Sören and Nicholas across the hall, but he knew Sören had very acute hearing and was also a light sleeper when he wasn't running on fumes, and sure enough, his muffled sobs had alerted Sören, who came over. "Hey," Sören said, climbing onto Anthony's bed, pulling him close. "Hey." He started petting Anthony's hair and rocking him.
"I'm so sorry," Anthony wept. "I was trying to keep it down -"
"Shhhhhhh." Sören stroked his face, with such love in his eyes that it broke Anthony's heart. He brushed Anthony's tears with his thumbs, and booped Anthony's nose. "I know. I know it hurts. It's OK to let it out."
With that, Sören lay next to Anthony and let Anthony snuggle into his chest, arms tight around him. He continued to rock Anthony, petting him, letting Anthony cry and cry. After a little while Nicholas came across the hall and stood there watching them, and Anthony swallowed hard, once again feeling guilty for disturbing their rest, but then Nicholas made a "come here" gesture. "Bring him," Nicholas told Sören.
Sören led Anthony across the hall to his and Nicholas's bedroom, and Nicholas patted the bed before he climbed back in. Sören scooted Anthony into the middle, and after Nicholas drew the covers over them, they were both holding him, Nicholas spooning his back as he looked into Sören's eyes. Anthony wept harder - this time with a feeling of relief, it was so good to have that comfort and warmth from both of them.
"It's all right," Nicholas said softly, his deep voice confident, reassuring - Anthony could almost believe it when Nicholas said it.
"I'm sorry," Anthony said again, looking at the time. "I didn't mean to disturb -"
"Hush," Sören said. His eyes met Anthony's and he gave Anthony a little nuzzle. "We get it."
"Sören told me today is the anniversary of the accident," Nicholas said. "As you know, these sorts of unpleasant anniversaries are difficult. It is understandable you would be upset and need some extra support."
"I still feel ba-"
Sören took Anthony's lips and closed them together. "Zip it."
Anthony tried to smile through his lips being held together, appreciating Sören's sass more than usual. When Sören let go of Anthony's lips he wagged his finger before his arm went back around Anthony. "Just be. Let us hold you." Sören smoothed Anthony's hair. "Let your family take care of you."
And it did feel like family - the two brothers he'd always wanted, of course, with incestuous feelings for both of them. Despite the fact that he was older than Sören, he felt younger... vulnerable. Sören was the more obviously sensitive one, wearing his heart on his sleeve, a soft, nurturing man, and yet there was a steel to him, a strength that came out now, protecting. Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder, and let himself truly rest, safe in their arms.
Nothing would ever be as it was before, his life had gone up in flames... but this was like new growth after a forest fire. A little over a year ago he'd had fake friends and feeling like he lived behind a mask, but now...
"I feel real," Anthony heard himself muse aloud.
"Hm?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
Anthony chuckled and quoted:
'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'
'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'
'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'
'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.'
"The Velveteen Rabbit," Nicholas said, his voice hushed. "You... memorized all of that?"
"It was one of my favorite books as a kid," Anthony said. "Sometimes I can memorize longer passages, yes."
Sören looked on the verge of tears. He kissed the tip of Anthony's nose. "You're not ugly at all, no." Then he held Anthony's lips together again, and this time Anthony gave a stifled laugh. "Now go the fuck to sleep."
Anthony closed his eyes and when Sören let go of his lips, he sighed. He didn't get to sleep right away - he listened to Sören's heartbeat for awhile, savored the feel of being sandwiched between Sören and Nicholas, held in the fortress of their care. Savored the relief that at least he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't, he was accepted just as he was. The last year had been full of pain and struggle... but he also felt real, now. And as uncertain as the future was, knowing he'd gotten to this place made things just a little more OK.
chapter 17 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index