Road to Recovery: Chapter One

“Well, Mr. Kinney, it looks you’re finally being allowed home. How are you feeling?”

“Like I've been hit by a truck,” he responded with a smirk.

The nurse looked up from her clipboard and laughed. “It was a car, wasn't it? Next week, you’ll be telling your friends it was a train.”

Brian smiled. He liked Nurse Adams. He might even go as far as saying he’d miss seeing her smiling face every morning – no, wait, who was he kidding, he didn't like her that much.

This past month had been the longest four weeks of his life and he really couldn't wait to get home. He’d been so keen to get out of there that he’d woken up at the crack of dawn, only to be told he wouldn't be discharged until 'sometime after lunch'. This was a good thing as it had taken him over thirty minutes to get dressed into his normal everyday clothes and he still had to practice walking on his crutches to pass the nurse’s test before they’d allow him home.

He’d be back of course; you don’t dislocate your left shoulder, break your right femur in two places, tear your right ACL and suffer a concussion and get away scott free. Oh no, he’d be seeing plenty of Allegheny General Hospital over the next couple of months whether he liked it or not. The doctors had explained to him that his body would need months of intense physical therapy to heal properly. It looks like he’d be avoiding Babylon for a little while longer, which, if he was being honest with himself, was perfectly fine with him. He’d not missed the place as much as he thought he would.

“Brian, here are your discharge papers, your medication and your physical therapy schedule for the next six weeks. I've written down your PT’s name on the back, and if you have any questions you can give him a call. Your first session is on Thursday, and I've already warned him you’re one of our most stubborn patients,” teased Nurse Adams.

“Me? I don’t know what gives you that idea?” he smirked.

“I know your type, Mr. Kinney. You’re the type who think you have it all figured out and that you’ll be as good as new in a couple of weeks. Well, let me tell you that you have a long road ahead of you, Brian. This won't be an easy next couple of months for you.”

“Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine,” muttered Brian, as he took the papers and shoved them in his backpack.

Nurse Adams gave him a warm smile, “I didn't mean to sound so negative. I just want you to be realistic when it comes to your recovery.”

He sighed deeply as he looked out of the window overlooking the parking lot. He knew the next few months were going to be difficult, he wasn't stupid. And to make matters worse, he’d have Deb on his back, being her overprotective, hovering self.

Maybe I should just stay here. It would be a hell of a lot easier.

“You’ll be fine, Brian.” Her words pulled him back to her and she smiled kindly at him. “Who is picking you up?”

“Michael and Ben.”

“Not that handsome man of yours? I haven’t seen him for a while. How’s he doing?”

“Oh, yeah – he’s just been really busy with work,” he lied. Truth was, he had no idea what the hell was going on. They’d been together six months. Everything had been great. He’d even asked him to move into the loft with him just before the accident. But ever since he’d been in hospital, he’d hardly visited.

“Well, send him my love. I’ll go downstairs and grab the wheelchair, so it’s ready for you.”

“I don’t need a wheelchair,” scoffed Brian. “Didn't you see how well I was walking?” he said, pointing to the crutches.

“Trust me; you’re going to want to burn them before the day is out,” she said with a laugh. “Take all the help you can, it’ll make the road to recovery a hell of a lot easier.”

“Fine, fine, you win.” He said with a cheeky wink.

***

“Here, I've got you,” Michael said, as he rushed around to the car door to help out his friend.

“Mikey, I'm fine.”

“I know – sorry,” his friend apologised as he stepped back.

“Take this for me,” Brian said, as he handed his best friend his backpack. He hadn't meant to snap at Michael, he knew he meant well. But he could only stand one person hovering over him at a time (barely), and he knew Deb would be over shortly to fill his freezer with copious amounts of highly saturated food.

Michael smiled as he took the bag and they made their way into the building, Ben followed closely behind with the rest of his things.

They rode the elevator up in silence.

God, it felt good to be home.

Michael unlocked the door and stood back, letting Brian go in first. He hobbled over to the breakfast bar; the thought of walking any further exhausted him.

Nurse Adams had been right; he already wanted to throw the damn crutches away.

The place looked the same, but what was he expecting? He’d only been gone a month.

As he looked around, he noticed things. Things that other people may not see – but he saw. Things were missing. His favourite coffee mug wasn't next to the coffee machine, his ridiculously ugly coat wasn't hung up, both of those things could have been explained… but the missing lighting box where he spent most evenings drawing was also gone.

“Have you spoken to him?” Michael asked, sensing the change in his friend’s mood.

“No.” Was all Brian could say. “

“I’ll, uh… take your bags up to your room.” Ben said, sensing Michael wanted some time alone with Brian.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Brian!”

“I told you, Mikey, I'm fine. I'm fabulous. Now leave it.”

Michael knew not to push it, so once he and Ben had ensured that Brian had everything he needed, they left.

Finally he was alone. He enjoyed his own company… or at least, he used to. But he’d spent the last month being constantly surrounded by people and now – now his loft felt eerily quiet.

Picking up his crutches, he made his way over to the chaise lounger and sat down as best he could. This seat held some good memories for him – for them, but right now it was nothing more than a super comfortable and convenient chair to sit down on and rest his leg.

He debated whether or not he should call him. He was pissed. He was hurt. Hell, he was fucking confused. As far as he was concerned they were good, really good. He’d been into see him a couple of times in hospital and he’d told him how he was swamped with work – that he had deadlines to meet and he’d accepted that. How could he have been so fucking stupid to think that this could possibly work out? He’s Brian Kinney for fuck sake. Brian Kinney doesn't do boyfriends… or at least, he didn't.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial.

“Hey! Leave a message.”

Fuck!

“Adam, it’s me… I'm home… but… you’re not… What’s...what's going on?”