A Spine-Tingling Story - TDG Fanfic

What Lies Tangled

It was nature's call that rudely woke Ryan up - for the third time that night. Heaving himself onto his side, he saw that the small clock on his bedside table read 3:57. He'd only managed to get a couple of hours more since the last time his bladder had woken him up.

That was another sad side-effect of spinal cord compression - bladder and bowel changes, which meant his bladder felt like it was full even when it wasn't. Still, he tried to console himself, it was better than being incontinent.

After the increasingly arduous task of going to the bathroom to relieve himself had been accomplished, he realised that he was actually extremely thirsty. It wasn't surprising, as he'd more or less been forced to drain himself completely dry.

The problem - the only way to get drinkable water was to go down the stairs to the kitchen.

Ryan hadn't cried since being diagnosed, but at that moment, he came close to letting out tears of frustration.

He stayed sitting in the bathroom for a while, weighing up his options. He could go back to bed and try and get back to sleep in spite of the cottonmouth, then get someone to get him water in the morning. Most of them were unlikely to say no - he did have cancer, after all, and so-called "cancer perks" were no secret - but he wanted to show that he could still do such simple tasks as getting himself a drink.

Alternatively, he could go downstairs, have a drink and some Codeine since his spine was complaining again, and try and get back up, or he could do all those things and just crash on the sofa instead of getting back up.

In the end, he plumped for the second option, figuring that getting up the stairs would be easier once the Codeine kicked in. He could also use the time to ponder over treatments again.

Several minutes later saw him sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of water next to him and his flow chart in front of him on the table. A frown creased his forehead as he stared intently at it as if he expected the markings to shift by themselves.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't hear someone else come in. He probably wouldn't have heard anyway - wheels were quieter than footsteps on the kitchen tiles.

That was until the chart was unceremoniously snatched away from in front of his eyes.

"Hey!" he protested, his head snapping up to meet his offender.

Chloe ignored his indignation and instead scanned the flow chart with narrowed eyes. "What is this?"

"None of your business," Ryan muttered, trying to grab it back, but she held it out of his reach. "Why are you even up at 4 in the morning?"

"Why are you?" Chloe countered.

"I was thirsty," he said simply, deciding not to mention his cancer's involvement in that. "You?"

"I heard you coming downstairs, thought I'd investigate," Chloe replied, equally as curtly. Ryan wasn't leaving it there, however.

"How'd you know it was me?" he continued, his gaze pricking her. "And I'm not that loud, am I?"

"You're the only one here who walks like they've got three legs," Chloe started, ignoring Ryan's expression darkening and his fist clenching around his cane, "and no, you're not that loud, but I have to keep waking myself up so I can change my sleeping position."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. Despite the paraparetic effects of his cancer, he still didn't claim to be an expert in all things paraplegic. Thoughts suddenly occurred to him that before long, he would have to become an expert out of necessity - thoughts that he tried to push out of his mind.