My Life is You Ch. 05bymypussyandyours©
There had been a time when Dillon hadn't cared if he would ever walk again. The result hadn't seemed worth the effort. He couldn't see his life going anywhere, so he didn't feel the need to be able to get there.
No great revelations had come to him in the past three months. There had been no bolt of lightning, no voice of thunder telling him what he was going to do with his life now. But Dillon had begun to care again. Seth had somehow given him that. In some way, Seth had used the past two months to bring back his will to live.
He wanted to walk without a limp, to know that he had achieved that. Seth was right; his muscles weren't nearly as firm as they used to be. Oh, he had never had the physique of a body builder, but he'd been pleased with what he'd had. No one would ever have called him soft, but at the same time he'd had just enough that when snuggling, the other guy didn't feel like he was lying against an uneven piece of metal.
Dillon had dated a couple of guys like that. Their bodies had turned him on until he'd touched them. At that point, he had discovered he liked the give of flesh. Not too much give, but enough to be comfortable.
Well, now, as far as he was concerned, he had way too much give. Oh, he wasn't fat by any means. His depression had killed his appetite, so he'd actually lost weight during the past three months. However, he felt he was getting a bit flabby. He didn't want that to go too far, because once the deterioration began, it was harder to regain what you had lost. Maintenance was a much better way to go.
With that thought in mind, he was down on the floor of his bedroom. He was determined to do fifty push-ups, no matter how long it took him. His left foot was braced on the floor and his right was up and over his left leg so that he wouldn't put undue stress on his right knee. He had his arms spread wide, knowing that this position would work the pectorals more than the biceps. He could stand flabby arms for a little while longer, but there was no way he was going to put up with having flabby tits!
Dillon began to slowly do his push-ups, controlling the movement as much as possible. He wanted to get the maximum result from these, since he didn't have the resources to do much more.
His physical therapy had helped some with keeping his muscles from going totally soft. He got through the first ten push-ups without a problem. The next ten were a bit harder and he began to rest just a tad longer in between each one. By the time he finished another ten, sweat was pouring off his body, his arms were shaking, and his right foot was beginning to slip off his left leg. He kept going, though, determined to finish it all.
On the thirty-fifth extension of his arms, his strength gave out. He went crashing down to the floor. This wouldn't have been a problem if his right foot hadn't just slipped again so that his right knee was bent. His knee hit the floor first, hard. Even though his room was carpeted with a thick, oatmeal plush, the impact was more than his healing knee could take. Dillon cried out in pain, rolling onto his side as his hands instinctively went down to his knee, cradling it as if he could protect it from further insult.
A moment later the bedroom door swung open and Dillon heard someone come rushing in. As the person dropped down next to him, Dillon smelled the distinctive aroma that he had come to associate with Seth. It was a mixture of a clean-smelling soap and the musky heat of the man himself.
"What happened?" Seth asked as his hands settled on Dillon's knee. "Did you fall out of bed?" Seth's hands probed and prodded, judging what they could. Despite the pressure Seth was putting on his injured knee, however, Dillon's pain wasn't heightened. In fact, the reassuring warmth of Seth's hands did more to take away the pain than two pain pills could have.
"No, I was doing some push-ups," Dillon gritted out, his back teeth clenched against the pain. "I hadn't done very many when my body decided I couldn't do anymore."
"What the hell were you thinking?" Seth demanded. As he did so, he gathered Dillon into his arms and stood. Turning, he deposited Dillon on the bed. "You stay right there!" he snapped out. Dillon then heard angry footsteps moving away.
A moment later, Dillon sensed he was alone in the room. Seth had left. And Seth had been really pissed off!
Dillon didn't get it. It wasn't like he was trying to re-injure his knee. Far from it. He was trying to return to some semblance of the life he had once had. Wasn't that what Seth was always telling him? That he needed to go on living?
Okay, maybe doing pushups on the floor of his room alone in the middle of the night wasn't the best idea. He probably could have done himself serious injury if he wasn't careful. While he had banged his tender knee, it was settling down to that warm throb that told him he wasn't truly hurt.
It just hadn't occurred to him that he was incapable of doing fifty pushups. That had actually seemed like a small amount to him. He had never expected to lose the strength in his arms so completely.
A moment later, Dillon heard Seth walk back into the room. "What are you doing still sitting on the side of the bed like that? Why aren't you in it?" Seth asked as he neared the bed.
"You told me not to move and I figured I shouldn't disobey," Dillon replied.
Seth made a sound that was half disparaging snort and half amusement before leaning down and pulling back the covers. Then Dillon felt Seth's hands guiding him back to sit against some pillows that were propped up against the headboard. Next, Seth carefully lifted Dillon's right leg and moved a pillow under Dillon's knee. Finally, he placed an ice pack on Dillon's knee.
"Do you want to tell me why you were doing pushups in the middle of the night?" Seth asked. "Or was that just for kicks?"
Dillon thought before speaking. How much could he tell Seth? On the other hand, whom was he going to tell any of this to if not Seth? Certainly not Nurse Sterning. She wasn't the type to inspire confidences.
"I want my life back Seth," Dillon softly began. "Oh, I know it can never be exactly the same, but I want at least a part of it. I want to feel like I'll still be useful, still be able to do things. I want to feel like I'll still be desirable," this last part was said so softly that Dillon almost didn't hear it himself.
Seth had sharp ears. "Desirable, how, Dillon?" he asked.
"I don't look the same, I know I don't. My eyes, they're not like normal eyes anymore. The nurses at the hospital told me they were kind of this cloudy, milky color; no real pupil or anything. And I can feel the scars. Oh, they've gotten smaller and there aren't many of them, but I know they're there. I was never the handsomest guy around, but I wasn't ugly either. Now, no matter what anyone says, I'll never know how I'll look.
"At least I can do something about having an attractive body, though. I used to have a good body; mostly because I enjoy being active, but partially out of vanity. Well, now it's all vanity. My body is the best thing I have going for me, but only if I work to make it even better than it used to be.
"I need to know that there's something about me that will make me . . . I mean people notice me, something that will make them want to be with me. So, yeah, doing pushups on my own wasn't the smartest thing in the world in terms of my physical recovery, but mentally I really need to be able to do them."
Seth hadn't said a word or made a sound to interrupt him as all this came out of Dillon. He had simply sat and listened, holding an ice pack to Dillon's knee the whole time.
"What about what's inside of you?" was the quiet question that finally emerged from his mouth. "Do you think people only care about your outside?"
"No, I'm not quite that shallow, Seth. I know there's more to me and the majority of people out there than their physique and degree of pulchritude. But you have to admit, the majority of people never get to really know a person unless there's something that draws them there in the first place."
"I can tell you you're not ugly and not deformed, but I know it's not going to do any good." As Seth spoke, Dillon felt him push a lock of hair off of Dillon's face. Dillon fought not to shiver at the tender touch, even as he reacted to the gently timbre of Seth's voice. "All the people in the world could tell you that, but unless you come to believe it on your own, all those words will ever be are platitudes. What I can do is help you in other ways.
"If you're serious about making sure that you're in good shape, that not only do you regain full use of your knee, but full use of your body, I can help you there. I'm a physical therapist, but that's not too different from being a trainer. I have no problem with helping you.
"But I want your promise that there will be no more incidents like this. I want your word that you'll agree to go at the pace I set, do the things I say you can and not push to try things I know you're not ready yet for. If you can agree to that, I can help you."
Dillon didn't even hesitate. He quickly nodded his head, but spoke aloud also, just in case Seth needed a verbal commitment as well. "I promise, Seth, I won't do more than you say I can. I also promise that you'll never have a patient that works harder than I do."
If there was ever anyone who was as good as his word, Dillon was that man. He'd made a promise to work harder than any other patient ever had had, and he really did. He didn't push harder than Seth wanted him to, but he didn't balk at working his body to the point of exhaustion.
He seemed to be a man on a crusade. He never complained, never whined that he was too tired or too sore. Seth knew he had to be hurting some. His muscles just weren't used to the physical exertion any more. The most that came out of Dillon's mouth, though, was the occasional grunt or gasp as he pushed himself to the limits of his endurance. This was normal, though. Walk into any gym, and you'll find men and women making the same sounds as they worked to improve their bodies.
They had progressed from two one-hour sessions a day to two two-hour sessions. The first hour was still taken up with the physical therapy required to rehabilitate Dillon's knee, but the second was devoted to other activities.
Seth couldn't believe the number of sit-ups and crunches Dillon was able to do. Even after three months of forced inactivity, he was in much better shape than the majority of people. His martial arts training had taught him how to quickly tighten his belly in order to protect against a sudden blow. Those muscles remembered the activity, even if they hadn't performed it in quite some time.
Now, when Dillon did push-ups, it was with Seth helping to support his right leg. Seth never actually let Dillon push to the point of collapse, but neither was Seth taking the chance that it might unexpectedly happen. Instead, he would sit on Dillon's right, his legs folded just beneath Dillon's knee. While Dillon still braced his left foot on the floor, on the right Seth supported him from the knee down. This threw his center of gravity off slightly, but he simply learned to adjust how he placed his hands on the floor.
Weights had also been added to their daily sessions. Seth brought in the barbells that he kept at his home and showed Dillon several different ways to use them. As a result, Dillon's biceps began to bulge slightly and his stomach was slowly beginning to take on the definition it had once had.
Through all of this, Seth did his best to keep a professional distance. He was Dillon's therapist, he reminded himself time and again. There was a trust implicit in that relationship. He couldn't bring himself to ever step over that line, although he ached to do so.
Twice a day, he watched Dillon work up a sweat. He watched the play of muscles on Dillon's body. He came into close contact with Dillon, helping him to adjust position, technique, and balance.
Each time he felt himself yearning to turn a grasp into a caress, he'd remind himself that Dillon was doing this for someone else, for some unnamed man that would happen along at some unspecified point in time. Dillon wasn't doing this for him, wasn't trying to attract him. Seth reminded himself of that, and silently suffered as Dillon improved, knowing that soon he wouldn't be needed.
Smiling proudly, Seth watched as Dillon walked off with a nurse. His right hand was grasping the inside of her elbow while his left worked the cane that he used for support.
Dillon was limping, but the fact that he was walking was a wonderful thing. Seth turned and sat down in the waiting room, picking up a magazine. He wasn't seeing the picture on the cover, however. In his mind's eye, he was seeing the pride on Dillon's face the first time he took a step after the accident.
They'd been working hard at strengthening and flexibility. Seth had finally judged it time to bring in the parallel bars that were invaluable in cases such as this. That had meant the massage table had to go since there wasn't room for both, but that was a small price to pay.
At first, Dillon had been apprehensive about the bars. Since he couldn't see them, he wasn't comfortable trying to work with them. He was always worrying that he would bang into them, maybe catch his face on the end of one.
They had gone beyond that when Seth had taught Dillon how to reach out for the bars and then use them to pull his wheelchair forward. That way, he'd know exactly where they were before he got close enough to do himself harm.
Next had come standing with the use of the bars. For anyone who didn't know anything about knee injuries, that would seem like a little thing. It was far from that. After all, it involved putting a great deal of weight on a joint that hadn't been used for support in quite a while. In addition, you had to go from a knee bent at a ninety-degree angle to a straight leg in one motion. Seth was sure Dillon would never take that action for granted ever again.
Finally Seth had judged Dillon ready to try taking that first step. It hadn't been a perfect step, in fact it had been more of a shuffle than anything, but for Dillon it had been a miracle. His smile had lit up his whole face and for just a brief moment, as he wiped tears from his eyes, Seth was thankful Dillon was blind. It was easier to hide the pride in your eyes when the person you were looking at couldn't see you.
Small shuffling steps had progressed to slow deliberate steps. From there they moved to the walker, Dillon practicing walking farther and turning, using his legs to pivot as he hadn't done in a long time. Then the day came that they said good-bye to the wheelchair.
Dillon had wanted Seth to help him take it to a junkyard. Seth had laughingly refused. He'd pointed out that it was only a rental and that someone else was going to need it in the future. Reluctantly, Dillon had allowed Nurse Sterning to return it to the medical supply company from whence it came.
Now Seth sat in the waiting room as the orthopedic surgeon who had been monitoring Dillon's progress evaluated Dillon's condition. Seth knew what the result would be and he was both saddened and elated by what Dillon was about to be told.
An hour later, another nurse led out a beaming Dillon to the waiting room. Seth laughed as he saw the four suckers that Dillon had carefully clasped between the fingers of the hand he used to be guided by the nurse. Dillon's sweet tooth had struck again, as a fifth sucker was protruding from his mouth.
Seth led Dillon toward the elevator but Dillon resisted. Turning to Dillon, Seth asked, "Did you need to head to the restroom before we leave?"
Dillon blushed but shook his head no. "I, well, I kind of wanted to know if we could take the stairs instead of the elevator."
"You know they won't be easy for you," Seth warned. "It's going to take us a good half-hour to get down them and once we get started, we won't be able to change our minds."
"I know," Dillon replied, "but it's something I'd really like to do."
"Let's do it then."
Seth hadn't underestimated the time it would take them to go down the stairs. It really was a half-hour process and by the time it was over, both of them were sweaty and exhausted. Dillon had been determined to do it on his own, which was why Seth was so tense by the time they were down at the bottom. He'd spent the whole time hovering just one step below Dillon, his body tensed in preparation for taking all of Dillon's weight if something should go wrong.
Nothing did go wrong. In fact, Dillon navigated the stairs beautifully. He took each one slowly and carefully, using the toe of his left foot to carefully search out the edge of each step before proceeding. He used the banister for support, letting it take much of his weight, but not so much that he would be lost if his grip slipped. Once again, Seth found himself with tears in his eyes as he watched this man prove himself again.
When they reached the lobby, they paused to rest. Dillon sat on a bench while Seth got water from the drinking fountain. Luckily, this clinic kept little paper cups next to the fountain, so Seth was able to take Dillon a drink.
After they had both quenched their thirst, they sat silently side-by-side on the bench. Dillon's eyes were closed, but that wasn't unusual. He never opened them anymore. In fact, Seth had no idea what they looked like since he had never seen them open. He knew Nurse Sterning helped Dillon to put in wetting drops three times a day, but he had never been called on for that duty.
Dillon was lost in his own world. He was feeling an elation that he was unable to put into words, so he hadn't even bothered to try. His life was finally beginning to look up, and Dillon was enjoying that feeling.
The fact that Seth was next to him helped. Dillon knew there was nothing between them, that there could never be anything between them, but part of Dillon still cherished every moment they spent together, every touch they exchanged.
The time came when it was time to go. Seth helped him to his feet and Dillon's hand tingled where Seth's fingers had grasped his own. That had never changed, never diminished. Dillon had reacted to Seth's touch the day they met, and he still did.
Outside, the sun was warm on Dillon's face. It was still too cool to go without a light jacket, but Spring was definitely making itself felt. As they stood outside the car, Dillon enjoyed the feel of the breeze as it pushed against him.
"Do we have to go straight home?" Dillon suddenly found himself asking.
"I don't see why we have to," Seth replied, helping Dillon to sit down into the passenger seat of the car without banging his head or anything else.
"Can we go to a park then?" Dillon asked as he groped for the seat belt. Finding the strap, he ran his hand up it until he found the metal tongue and pulled it down and across his body.
After closing Dillon's door and jogging around to the driver's side, Seth slid behind the wheel. "You want to go to a park?"
"Yeah, I never get a chance to go outside anymore. We're always in the house; we don't even leave it for doctor's appointments that often. I'm outside now and it's a gorgeous day, or, at least it feels like a gorgeous day to me. I wanted to stay outside if I could."
"A park it is," with that, Dillon heard Seth start the car. He settled back into the seat, smiling. Searching the door with his fingers, he found the button to lower the window and lowered it part way.
He had been truthful when he'd said he missed being outside. He did. Dillon often thought of himself as a hedonist. He knew what he liked and he usually made sure he got plenty of it. Well, one thing Dillon loved was being out in nice weather. The feel of the sun and the breeze, the sound of the birds, they were wonderful things. He might not be able to see the trees anymore, but he wanted to lean back against one. Nor could he see kids playing, but if he got to hear it, he'd be able to play the movie in his mind.