You guys are the sweetest. You've all given me so many compliments recently, and I am flattered honestly. Although I am dealing with both college, writing and getting my drivers license, so this story will be on hold for a while. I will write the requests that I've already gotten and then I will have the story on hold. Thank you so much.
Here comes part two.
After a week of observation in the hospital, Stefan was finally ready to go home. Or... Wheel home. He hadn't been able to move anything on the left side of his body, but the doctor had told him that with the help of physical therapy, he would be healing soon. He had faith, and it seemed like Damon had too.
Stefan knew why. Damon couldn't handle the thought of Stefan being an invalid, having to spend the rest of his miserable life in a wheelchair. Damon wanted more than that. He wanted things to be normal. And so he acted like everything was okay and he seemed happier than ever, although it was all just an act.
"Home sweet home," Damon exclaimed as he pushed Stefan's wheelchair through the front door. "I've prepared a bedroom for you downstairs. You can sleep there until you'll be able to walk up the stairs again."
Stefan wondered how Damon had even had the time to prepare bedrooms and move all his stuff downstairs. For all Stefan knew, Damon had practically been living in the hospital.
"You need anything, Stef? Anything at all?"
Stefan shook his head.
"I'm fine, Damon, really. I don't need anything. If you can just wheel me to the drink table, then I'll just have a glass of bourbon."
Damon did as Stefan requested and wheeled him to the table.
Flash forward two months and Stefan asked Damon to wheel him to the drink table again. Damon did so and Stefan reached out for the bottle of Bourbon with his left hand, moving it slowly. Damon watched him do it. He knew that Stefan had been working hard to regain his strength. That moving was a big deal now. Stefan grunted as his arm started trembling halfway.
"You can do it," Damon mumbled encouraging.
Stefan wasn't able to reach further and Damon reached out to place the bottle closer to the edge of the table.
"Don't," Stefan grunted. "I wanna do it myself. On my own. Without help."
Damon removed his hand and nodded. Stefan stretched his arm out further and latched onto the bottle. He threw it off the table by accident, but that was fine. Because he held it. Even if it was just for half a second. He held the bottle.