Pudding

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Trapped. That was the best way to describe it. He couldn't wash himself or brush his own teeth, he could barely feed himself, he had to be carried to the bathroom... Everything set to a schedule of taking pain medicine and assisted stretching...

Even with the pills, he was still sore and uncomfortable. He wasn't going to ask for more though, Scott was already doing so much for him as it was. He hated that he was putting Scott through this. Maybe it would have been better if the accident had killed him. His life had been rough enough already, and when there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel, this happened.

His freedom was gone.

His independence was gone.

Everything he'd worked for, all gone.

He tried to tell himself this was just temporary. The casts would come off after New Year. It wouldn't be so bad. Then, he'd just have to get strong enough to walk again. He could do it. Or, so he thought. What really drove the point home was when they went to clean out his apartment.

It was supposed to be a happy thing, getting everything worth keeping of his to Scott's place once his lease was up, a celebration of the start of their life together. But, sitting in a wheelchair, in the hallway, as your in-laws and fiance cleaned all the spoiled food from your fridge... As they bagged up all your clothes... As they brought out your mismatched thrift store plates and cups one by one, sorting out what had sentimental value and what could go in the "donate" box...

Seeing everything worth saving that he'd been able to aquire all on his own reduced to three small boxes... It hurt.

His neighbor had come out to talk to him, curious about all the noise, but they were never really close. He got the feeling she was just being nosy and then couldn't run away tactfully after seeing the state he was in. She withdrew as soon as she had an opening. He didn't blame her.

The worst part of it all was the nightmares. He didn't dream about the accident, oddly enough. No, he dreamed about the hell he'd worked so hard to overcome.

He tried to tell himself the circumstances were different this time! No one was going to deny him food for not behaving correctly! No one was going to beat him to teach him to act like a "proper omega!" No one was going to leave him tied up for hours because they had something more important to do! But... that person... they started out as nice as Scott was...

And now he was effectively immobile... Reliant on Scott for everything... What if Scott got frustrated with him? Or got bored of taking care of him? What if Scott got tired of carrying him to the toilet and put him in a diaper, just like when he was forced to wear a chain that didn't quite reach the bedroom door, and something was needed to contain the inevitable mess... What if...

It kept him awake at night.

He'd lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, listening to Scott's steady breathing beside him. They didn't cuddle at night anymore. The only cuddling he seemed to get any more was from his teddy bear. Ryan slept on his back by default now, legs and arms propped up by special foam pillows. What he wouldn't give to curl up safe in Scott's arms. Only, his body wasn't capable of doing much curling at the moment.

This. Wasn't. Like. Before.

This wouldn't end with him being a ward of the state. This wouldn't end with him in a shelter. right?

This was different.

Different didn't mean easier.

-+-+-+-

Scott didn't know what to do. Ryan's depression had only gotten worse since they went to go clean out his apartment. Most of the time now, he was no more responsive than a living doll. Scott tried dialing back his pain meds a little, wondering if they were responsible for making him foggy, but it didn't make a difference. The worst part? Ryan wouldn't tell him what was wrong!

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