Chapter Text
The first morning back home didn’t feel like relief. It felt frustrating.
Grian stood in his bedroom, staring down at his shirt. Getting dressed had somehow turned into a challenge he wasn’t prepared for.
He had already tried twice.
The first time, he accidentally pulled too hard and sent a sharp ache through his shoulder, forcing him to stop immediately.
The second time, he got stuck halfway, one arm in and the other completely trapped by the cast.
Now he just stood there, tired already, even though the day had barely started.
“…Seriously?” Grian muttered under his breath.
With a careful breath, he tried again.
Grian slowly guided his injured arm first, just like the nurse had shown him, moving slowly so the cast wouldn’t catch on the fabric.
The sling made it awkward, and every small movement felt stiff and unnatural.
After a few minutes of struggling, he finally managed to pull the shirt on properly.
Grian sighed before walking carefully out of his bedroom without bumping into anything.
Every movement pulled slightly at the dull ache in his arm, enough to remind him not to move too fast.
He headed into the kitchen, tired eyes scanning the counters and fridge while trying to figure out what he could even make with only one usable arm.
Anything involving a pan already sounded impossible.
Grian opened the fridge with a sigh again, staring at the contents for a moment before deciding he could probably survive off an apple and a yogurt cup.
Easy. No effort. No chance of accidentally hurting his shoulder again.
Just as he reached for the yogurt, a knock echoed from the front door.
Grian paused.
He frowned slightly, immediately assuming it was probably Mumbo checking in on him again.
The thought was comforting enough, though he still groaned quietly at the idea of having to walk all the way back to the entrance.
Carefully closing the fridge shut with his hip, Grian made his way toward the front door.
The sling shifted uncomfortably against his chest as he reached for the handle.
When he opened it, he blinked in surprise.
Standing there was BigB, holding two takeout bags in both hands. The smell of Chinese food drifted inside almost instantly.
BigB smiled warmly. “I got Chinese food, and I assumed you can’t really cook with one arm right now, so…figured I’d offer.”
Grian’s eyes lingered on BigB for a second before a warm blush crept across his face
“Oh,” Grian said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “You really didn’t have to do that. I was honestly just gonna eat an apple and yogurt.”
BigB looked mildly horrified. “Nonsense!” he said immediately. “I can’t let my next door neighbor struggle that much.”
A small laugh escaped Grian before he could stop it.
BigB lifted one of the bags slightly. “Seriously, I bought way too much anyway. If I eat all this alone, I’ll probably pass out on my couch afterward.”
Grian smiled softly at that, stepping aside to let him in. “Well…when you put it like that, I guess I’m helping you too.”
“There you go.” BigB said proudly as he walked inside. “Now you’re thinking correctly.”
BigB carefully carried the bags into the kitchen while Grian shut the front door behind him.
The warm smell of fried rice, noodles, and orange chicken quickly filled the apartment, making Grian realize just how hungry he actually was.
BigB set everything down on the counter before glancing over at him.
“So,” he said, eyeing the sling carefully, “how bad is it today?”
Grian leaned lightly against the counter. “Could be worse,” he answered honestly. “It still hurts if I move wrong. Sleeping sucked though.”
“I can imagine,” BigB said.
For a moment, the kitchen settled into a comfortable quiet while BigB unpacked the containers.
Grian watched him awkwardly try to open a plastic bag without spilling everything, eventually laughing under his breath.
“What?” BigB looked over.
“You’re struggling more than I am right now.” Grian said, smiling.
BigB narrowed his eyes jokingly. “I’m trying to save your life, actually.”
“My hero.” Grian said, pressing his free hand on his chest as he pretends to be a helpless damsel in distress.
BigB pointed at him with the chopsticks he had just unwrapped. “Exactly.”
Grian couldn’t help smiling again.
It felt…nice.
Normal, almost.
The past few days had been exhausting between the hospital, the pain, and people constantly checking on him.
Every conversation lately seemed tense or filled with concern, like everyone was waiting for him to suddenly fall apart.
But this?
This was easy.
BigB finally managed to spread the food containers across the counter before pulling out a chair for Grian.
“Sit,” he ordered. “Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.” Grian said.
“No, but I brought food, which basically makes me qualified.” BigB said, gazing at Grian.
Grian rolled his eyes but sat down anyway, carefully adjusting himself so his shoulder wouldn’t ache too badly.
BigB sat across from him, sliding one of the containers closer.
For a little while, they simply ate.
BigB talked occasionally about random neighborhood things.
Nothing serious. Nothing heavy.
And Grian found himself relaxing more with every minute.
BigB picked at his noodles for a moment before glancing back up at Grian. “So… what actually happened?” he asked carefully. “With the ice skating accident, I mean.”
Grian’s shoulders tensed slightly at the question.
BigB noticed almost immediately. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he added quickly.
“No, it’s fine,” Grian said after a brief moment.
He shifted awkwardly in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position for his shoulder while figuring out how to explain it without sounding completely stupid.
“Mumbo and I were partners during practice,” Grian started slowly. “We were doing one of the lifts.”
BigB listened quietly.
“He was supposed to throw me upward so I could land properly afterward,” Grian continued, avoiding eye contact. “We’ve practiced stuff similar before, so it wasn’t supposed to go wrong.”
Grian fingers tightened slightly around the plastic fork.
“But I landed wrong,” he admitted. “My shoulder took most of the impact when I hit the ice.”
BigB winced immediately. “Geez.”
“Yeah,” Grian said, quietly.
“The way people were talking about it made it sound way worse,” BigB said carefully.
Grian let out a small, humorless laugh. “Trust me, it felt worse.”
BigB studied him for a moment before asking, “Was it Mumbo’s fault?”
The question made Grian hesitate.
He looked down at the table again, clearly struggling with the answer but deep down he knew that Mumbo would never hurt him.
“No.” he said honestly after a long pause. “Maybe the timing was off. Maybe I moved wrong. Everything happened really fast.”
Grian swallowed quietly.
“I don’t think he meant for it to happen.”
BigB nodded slowly, understanding settling across his expression.
Still, Grian could tell BigB was thinking about it carefully.
“You sound like you’re trying really hard not to blame him,” BigB pointed out gently.
Grian immediately looked away.
The silence afterward said more than enough.
Because the truth was, part of him didn’t know how to feel about it yet.
Mumbo had looked absolutely terrified afterward. Genuinely terrified.
Grian remembered how shaky Mumbo's voice sounded at the rink, how he refused to leave Grian alone at the hospital.
But the memory of hitting the ice still replayed in his head sometimes when things got too quiet.
And every time it did, his shoulder ached all over again.
Grian forced a small smile onto his face, trying to push away the heavy feeling settling in his chest.
“But…” he said, a little hope slipping back into his voice, “I’ll recover as quickly as possible so I can get back on the ice again.”
Grian glanced down at the sling briefly before continuing more softly, “I mean… I’ve loved ice skating ever since I was a kid. It’s basically my whole career.”
BigB’s expression softened at that.
“How long does recovery usually take?” BigB asked carefully.
Grian hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then he finally answered. “The nurse told me it might take a year or two.” He rubbed his thumb nervously against the edge of the table. “Depends on how my body heals.”
BigB blinked. “A year or two?”
“Yeah.”
Even now, saying it out loud still felt unreal.
The words sat heavily in the air between them.
Grian tried not to think too hard about it.
About missing competitions. Missing practice.
Watching everyone else continue moving forward while he stayed stuck recovering.
BigB suddenly smiled. “Well.” he said casually, leaning back slightly in his chair, “in the meantime, you’re kinda stuck with me during your recovery.”
Grian looked up in confusion.
BigB shrugged. “We are neighbors after all.” “Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t survive entirely on yogurt cups.”
A surprised laugh escaped Grian before he could stop it.
Then warmth rushed straight to his face again.
Grian quickly looked down at the table, hoping BigB wouldn’t notice how red he was becoming over such a simple comment.
The idea of spending more time with BigB really shouldn’t have affected him this much.
But it did.
Especially because BigB looked so genuine saying it, like helping Grian was the easiest decision in the world.
“You really don’t have to babysit me,” Grian mumbled weakly, blushing.
BigB grinned immediately. “Too late. I already brought food. That means we’re friends now.”
Grian shook his head, smiling despite himself.
Somehow, for the first time since the accident, the future didn’t feel quite as terrifying.
Four weeks later, the sling no longer felt completely strange on Grian’s body.
It still annoyed him constantly, of course.
The fabric rubbed against his neck sometimes, and sleeping comfortably remained nearly impossible, but at least he had stopped instinctively trying to use his injured arm every five minutes.
He had slowly learned how to do simple things one-handed, such as making coffee, opening doors, even awkwardly putting on shirts without getting stuck halfway through.
Some days were easier than others.
Today happened to be one of the better ones.
Grian carefully stepped outside his house, adjusting the strap of his sling with his free hand while the morning air brushed against his face.
Parked near the curb was Mumbo’s car.
Right on time.
Mumbo spotted him immediately through the windshield and quickly climbed out of the driver’s seat.
“Need help?” he asked almost automatically while walking around the car.
Grian snorted softly. “I’m injured, not eighty.”
“That didn’t answer my question.” Mumbo smiled at Grian.
Grian rolled his eyes but still let Mumbo open the passenger door for him.
Getting into the car was still awkward with the shoulder brace, especially since sudden movements could send pain shooting through his arm if he wasn’t careful.
Once seated, he exhaled slowly while adjusting the sling against his chest.
Mumbo shut the door gently before getting back into the driver’s seat.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The quiet between them wasn’t exactly uncomfortable anymore, but it still carried traces of guilt neither really knew how to address.
Mumbo finally started the car. “So… passive physical therapy today, right?”
Grian nodded. “Yeah. They’re mostly checking shoulder movement again.”
“How bad is it?”
Grian shrugged slightly with his good shoulder. “Depends. Sometimes it’s fine. Sometimes it feels like my arm wants to detach itself.”
“That sounds medically concerning.” Mumbo glances at Grian.
“It probably is.” Grian said, smiling.
A tiny smile pulled at Mumbo’s mouth, relieved to hear him joking again.
The drive to the hospital stayed mostly calm after that.
Mumbo occasionally pointed out random things outside the window just to fill the silence, while Grian rested his head lightly against the seat.
Truthfully, he still hated hospital visits. Even after four weeks.
The smell alone immediately brought back memories of the night of the accident from the sharp pain, the panic, the doctors rushing around him while Mumbo looked terrified nearby.
But physical therapy was important.
If he wanted any chance of getting back onto the ice someday, he had to do this.
Mumbo pulled into the hospital parking lot before glancing over at him carefully. “Are you nervous?”
Grian hesitated before quietly answering, “A little.”
Mumbo nodded understandingly. “Well…” he said gently while turning off the engine, “good thing you’re not doing this alone then.”
Grian looked over at him in slight surprise.
Mumbo avoided eye contact for a second, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean…I know this whole thing sucks.”
Something in Grian’s chest softened slightly.
Despite everything that happened, Mumbo had stayed.
Every appointment. Every checkup. Every awkward recovery day.
And Grian honestly wasn’t sure what to do with that yet.
Mumbo gave him a small smile, softer this time. “I’m always here for you, buddy,” he said quietly. “And I care about you.”
The words caught Grian slightly off guard.
Not because they were strange coming from Mumbo, but all of sudden.
Grian looked down at the sling resting against his chest before speaking.
“Thank you,” he said honestly. “For everything. I mean it.” Grian glanced back over at him. “Especially for coming with me right now for passive physical therapy.”
Mumbo waved it off like it was nothing. “Anything for you, Grian.”
Then, almost casually Mumbo added, “Actually, to celebrate you getting through recovery so far, I decided to throw a small gathering at my place.”
Grian blinked. “A what?”
“Just something small!” Mumbo explained quickly. “A few of our ice skating friends are hanging out, eating food, maybe watching movies. Nothing huge.”
Grian stared at him. “Wait…even—”
“Yes,” Mumbo interrupted knowingly. “Even Scar and Lizzie.”
Grian’s expression immediately faltered.
Mumbo either didn’t notice or pretended not to.
“Besides…” Mumbo continued, “Lizzie was really kind to us after the accident happened. She stayed at the hospital for hours and honestly helped calm me down a lot during your surgery.”
Grian stayed quiet.
His stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought.
Scar.
Just hearing his name was enough to make tension settle into Grian’s shoulders again.
Scar always seemed so effortlessly perfect and naturally charming in a way people instantly liked.
Even after the accident, Grian could already imagine him walking into the party with that easy smile like nothing in the world could touch him.
And for some reason, the image irritated Grian more than it should have.
The thought of seeing that grin made something hot and bitter stir in his chest.
Part of him wanted to wipe it right off Scar’s face.
Mumbo glanced over after noticing the silence. “You okay?”
Grian quickly forced his expression to be neutral. “Yeah,” he lied quietly, turning toward the car window. “Just tired.”
Mumbo looked uncertain for a moment but didn’t push further.
Outside, people moved in and out of the hospital entrance while Grian stared blankly ahead, trying to ignore the irritation still clawing at the back of his mind.
Because the truth was, he really didn’t want to see Scar right now.
Not when everything already felt fragile enough as it was.