Chapter Text
The morning light seeped through the apartment curtains with an almost irritating softness. It was irritating, just as irritating as the light that filtered through the hospital curtains.
It wasn’t a warm light. It was too bright, too normal for someone who hadn’t slept well.
Loki blinked slowly before fully opening his eyes. The first thing he felt wasn’t the clear light, it was his leg.
The pain was still there.
Not as explosive as the day before, but constant, deep, like something inside his tendon was still reminding him that it was broken on a level he couldn’t fully understand.
He swallowed and tried to move a little.
A sharp pull shot up from his ankle to the lower part of his calf, forcing him to stay completely still again.
“.. Tch.” He stared at the ceiling for a few more seconds, breathing slowly through his nose. “Fuck.. it hurts too much.” With what little strength he had in his arms, he barely sat up on the bed, his back against the wall.
That simple movement caused an even sharper pull that affected his entire calf; each time, he felt the pain rising more and more through his leg.
He heard footsteps outside, then the sound of something in the kitchen, cabinets opening and dishes clinking.
Then, the door to his room opened calmly.
Vivian entered holding a tray.
He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at him for a second, as if confirming he was still there, conscious.
“You’re awake.” Julian turned his head slightly.
“Yeah.” The other walked in fully and placed the tray on the nearby table.
The smell of food was the first thing that reached the nostrils of the dark-skinned man. It was a sweet aroma, warm food at the perfect temperature, just how Loki liked it.
There were scrambled eggs, slices of toasted bread, and perfectly cut fruit. And beside it, a black coffee.
“What is that?”
“Breakfast. It’s best that you don’t walk too much, so I figured the logical thing would be to bring it to you in bed.” He lifted the tray and placed it carefully over the other’s legs, avoiding direct contact with his injured one. “You need protein and collagen.”
Julian looked at him with a faint frown.
“Collagen?”
“Yes.” He pointed at the plate as if it were obvious. “It helps tendon recovery. Also protein for muscle reconstruction. It’s logical.”
“.. Sure.” He kept looking at the food for another second.
He wasn’t hungry.
Or maybe he was, but it didn’t matter.
In the end, he still picked up the fork.
He started eating slowly, without enthusiasm. Just because there was something to do with his hands. Vivian watched him without interrupting.
“You slept little today,” he said finally.
“But I slept.”
“It’s not the same.” Julian kept eating, not in the mood to argue.
The pain in his leg rose and fell with every micro movement, as if his body refused to let him forget it was there.
“Today you’re going to move a bit more with the crutches.” Loki barely bit down on the fork with force. “Only inside the apartment.”
“I don’t need instructions to walk.”
“It’s not walking. It’s rehabilitation.”
“I’m never using those shitty things again.” He set the fork down on the plate. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
Loki lowered his gaze, jaw still tense. He stayed like that for a few long seconds, then resumed eating.
Vivian sighed faintly, not in annoyance. More like he was carefully choosing what to say next.
“Julian.” The other didn’t respond. “You don’t have to do it perfectly right now.”
“I’m not trying to do it perfectly.”
“Yes, you are. This isn’t taking away who you are.”
“I know that, Hugo,” he replied sharply.
After that, both of them fell silent while Loki finished his breakfast in silence.
The last sip of coffee went down without him looking at it, as if the act itself meant nothing.
The tray was left beside the bed.
Hugo was the first one to stand up from the bed.
“Alright. Now, the crutches.” The other Frenchman only turned his head slightly to the side, staring at the wall.
Vivian took the crutches from the corner of the room and placed them near the bed.
“You’re going to use them to get up,” he added.
“No.”
“Julian.”
“I don’t need them.” The redhead took a step closer.
“Your tendon isn’t ready to bear full weight.”
“I can walk.”
“No, you can’t.” Loki frowned at him, while Hugo pointed at the crutches again. “Just try.” The other Frenchman looked at the objects as if they were a personal offense.
“They look ridiculous.”
“They’re functional.”
“I’m not using them.”
“Then lean on me.”
“What?”
“If you’re not going to use the crutches, at least use support.” He took another step closer to the bed. “You can’t keep your balance on your own yet.”
“I don’t need you holding me up.”
“Yes, you do.” Julian tightened his fingers on the sheets.
The pain in his leg pulsed with every second of stillness, as if his body were waiting for any excuse to remind him he wasn’t whole.
“I’m not weak,” he said at last. “I’m not useless.” His voice started to rise gradually. “I’m not—”
“Julian.”
“I FEEL WEAK, FUCK. DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? IT MAKES ME FEEL RIDICULOUS HAVING TO USE THAT SHIT.” He suddenly shouted.
After that, he went still, as if even he hadn’t expected to say it.
Hugo didn’t react with surprise, only lowered his gaze slightly.
“That.. doesn’t make you weak. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“And you do? Are you the one who got injured?” he asked, his tone ironic.
Vivian placed a hand near his knee, careful not to press the injured tendon.
“You’re frustrated with the situation.” Julian pressed his lips together. “If you don’t want to use them yet, use this.”
“What?” The other Frenchman extended his arm toward him.
“Lean on me.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not going to let go of you.” Loki lowered his gaze, slightly tense. “And if you don’t want the crutches yet, that’s fine. But you can’t get up on your own. For now.. at least try to stand.”
The dark-skinned man didn’t respond. He frowned, his shoulders tensing further.
Then, slowly, he moved a hand.
Not toward the crutches.
Toward Hugo.
The hand stayed there, suspended in the air, not committing to any direction. As if even that small gesture cost more than he was willing to admit.
Finally, he let it fall onto Hugo’s arm. The redhead made no comment, only adjusted his posture.
“Good,” he said quietly. “Let’s try it.”
“I don’t need—”
“Just stand up.” Hugo cut him off, not intending to sound harsh.
Loki sighed, then slowly moved, trying to sit up. Every movement, even lifting his arms, was controlled.
When his right foot touched the floor, the pain shot up immediately. Not explosive like before, but enough to make his breath hitch for a second.
His body tensed instantly, and his leg started to tremble. Vivian reacted at once, moving closer and supporting him at the side.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
The other still didn’t speak. He only clenched his teeth, trying to endure the sharp pain. He shifted all his weight onto his healthy side.
They took a step, then another. The walk to the living room was short.
But for Julian, it felt too long. Every touch of his foot against the floor reminded him of the same thing: his body no longer obeyed like it used to.
“Breathe calmly,” Vivian said.
“I am breathing.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
They took a couple more steps. The other Frenchman frowned when the pain surged in a stronger wave.
His body tilted slightly in response; his partner held him a little more firmly.
“Does it hurt a lot?” The other didn’t respond, continuing his path with unsteady steps. “Julian. If it hurts too much, I can carry you.”
Loki barely turned his head, looking at him as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
“Tch. What?”
“I can carry you if you need it.”
“.. I’m not a child.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need you to carry me.”
“I didn’t say it like you needed it.” He kept walking beside him. “I said it as an option.”
Finally, they reached the living room. The dark-skinned man let himself sink carefully into the sofa.
His body protested the moment he touched the seat, but this time he didn’t make a sound. As soon as he finished adjusting himself on the couch, his entire body released a brief tension, as if it had finally found a place where it didn’t have to actively “hold itself up.”
The pain was still there—constant, deep—but at least he wasn’t standing against it anymore. Hugo stood in front of the sofa for a second, watching him in silence.
“Face down,” he said.
“What?”
“You need to lie face down.”
“Tch. Why?” The redhead pointed at his leg without touching it.
“For physiotherapy.”
“I just walked.”
“You limped.”
“I walked.”
“You limped,” he repeated.
“No.” Before the redhead could respond, he took a deep breath, as if he had already anticipated that answer. “I’m not going to lie face down like I’m just any patient.”
“You are a patient.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“.. This is ridiculous.”
“This is necessary.” Hugo placed the things on the table: the bands, the electrostimulator, the equipment they had bought the day before.
All of it looked too clinical for an apartment that used to be nothing but silence and routine.
“You’re going to lie down and I’m going to work your calf. It’s completely tight from compensation.”
“You sound like a doctor..” He let out a short laugh.
“I’m following basic rehabilitation logic. Lie face down.”
Julian closed his eyes for a second, as if deciding whether to hate him or give in.
After that, with a slow movement, he turned over. His body tensed slightly as he changed position, and his injured ankle immediately protested, forcing out a short sound through clenched teeth.
He stayed face down on the sofa, completely still.
Hugo watched him, then knelt beside the couch. He placed a hand carefully on his calf; the contact was light, but even so, Julian’s fingers tightened against the sofa cushion.
Vivian began working the calf muscle with slow, progressive pressure, searching for points of tension.
Loki still didn’t speak. Each press sent an uncomfortable sensation up his entire leg—not as sharp as the tendon pain, but deep, constant, irritating.
As if his body was being «rearranged» by force.
“If it hurts too much, tell me,” he added quietly.
The dark-skinned man only grunted while staying still, enduring the pain.
The midfielder picked up one of the devices they had bought and set it nearby.
“This is muscle stimulation,” he explained while turning it on. “It will help the muscle contract. That allows strengthening and recovery of your tendon.”
Vivian adjusted the electrodes with precision, placing them on the calf. The first electrical pulse was mild.
“Tch..”
“Breathe.” The device pulsed again, and Julian pressed his fingers into the sofa once more.
He didn’t complain out loud. But his body did it for him: small involuntary spasms in the leg, jaw tight, shoulders rigid even while lying down.
Hugo noticed and lowered the intensity of the machine slightly while continuing to massage the injured area.
“You don’t have to endure it like it’s punishment..”
“It feels like punishment.”
“It isn’t. It’s repair.” Loki’s leg reacted with small involuntary impulses each time the current passed, as if his body were still fighting the idea of being «assisted.»
Hugo kept his hands on his calf, moving with clinical precision, as if he were adjusting an equation rather than touching a person.
“Your soleus is way too rigid.. you’re surviving the injury with poor load distribution.” The forward pressed his fingers against the edge of the sofa.
“Do you know what the worst part of all this shit is? That I have to let someone «fix» something that should just work on its own.”
“It doesn’t get «fixed». It recovers.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“No.” He reduced the pressure of the massage again, as if adjusting an instrument. “If it were something permanently «broken», you wouldn’t be here feeling this. This is adaptation.”
The electrostimulator kept working. The forward exhaled through his nose, slower this time, but still tense.
The machine gave one last vibration, lower, as if reluctantly shutting down. Hugo glanced at it for a second, then turned the dial all the way to zero.
The final beep cut through the atmosphere. The midfielder carefully removed the electrodes from his calf without rushing.
Then he placed his hand back on the muscle, this time without the machine interfering, just assessing with direct pressure.
“Here?” he asked, pressing lightly on a lateral point.
“.. Yeah.” Loki let out a low grunt at first. The redhead slid his fingers slightly lower, following the line of the muscle.
“And here?”
“It hurts a bit less..” The other withdrew his hand and watched the leg as if reading something invisible.
“Good. That’s an expected response. The tissue is reacting without worsening.”
“Great. It’s not getting worse. It’s just still shit.” He buried his face into the sofa cushions.
The other Frenchman didn’t react to the irony. He only placed his hand back on the calf, this time softer, almost like a final check.
“Consistency in sessions means the baseline pain will go down. Not all at once, and not when you want it to.” He stood up from the floor, stretching his arms slightly. Then he looked back at the leg again. “Today you did more than you should have done on your own.”
“Are you REALLY going to lecture me?”
“It’s a fact, I’m not lecturing you.”
“Sounds like a lecture.” Vivian didn’t respond, just picked up the machine and began organizing the cables with meticulous calm. “You’re going to feel stiffness today and tomorrow. That’s normal after stimulation and partial load.”
“And how much longer do I have to put up with this?”
“Until walking doesn’t require thinking.” Julian frowned at that, sitting up slightly on the sofa.
“You better make sure it works.”
“It will work if you don’t sabotage it with pride.” The dark-skinned man looked away at that, clenching his fists, frustrated. “Rest. Progress doesn’t speed up by arguing with it.”
“What a convenient phrase,” he muttered. Vivian didn’t answer immediately. He only finished storing the electrostimulator cables. “I’m doing everything you tell me. I let you touch me, I let you carry me, I let you.. do this like it’s normal. But it doesn’t feel normal.”
Hugo approached the sofa again without hurry and sat on the edge, not invading his space, just close enough so he wouldn’t feel alone in the room.
“It doesn’t have to feel normal right now,” he said at last, with his usual calm.
Julian let out a longer exhale, as if annoyed that that answer even existed.
“You always say that,” he murmured. “Like time fixes things on its own.”
“No.” he corrected. “Time doesn’t fix anything. It just allows the body to stop fighting what is already changing.”
“.. I hate this.” The midfielder rested one of his hands on his partner’s thigh as he said it.
“I know. You don’t have to win this part, you just have to get through it.” Loki only glanced at him from the side and ran a hand over his face, frustrated. Hugo’s hand slid up to his partner’s back. “Calm down.”
Before he could say anything else, Julian slightly buried his head against his partner’s chest.
Vivian didn’t react. His shoulders tensed, and the hand that had been on the forward’s back stayed suspended in the air.
“…You’re exhausted,” he said, his tone lower than usual.
The hand that had been left hanging slowly lowered, but instead of resuming a clinical motion, it rested with less precision on the upper part of his back.
The dark-skinned man’s breathing was shorter than usual, not because of pain this time, but because of something else he couldn’t quite organize in his mind.
The frustration was still there, stuck to him like a second skin.
“Your body is responding as it should,” he continued. “The problem is that you’re not used to that including limits.”
Julian pressed the fabric of his own clothing against Hugo’s chest, without looking at him. It wasn’t a conscious gesture of closeness; more like something that slipped out when the rest of his body stopped holding itself so rigidly.
“It pisses me off… not being able to do something this basic.”
“I know.” He lowered his gaze slightly toward him, observing him as if measuring invisible parameters: breathing, muscle tension, emotional response to stimulus. “If you try to force it now, you’ll only prolong the process.”
After speaking, he exhaled softly through his nose, almost imperceptibly, and adjusted his posture so he wouldn’t make him uncomfortable.
“This isn’t weakness. It’s a temporary state. It will pass,” he added.
Despite all the reassuring words, he was still frustrated.
Nothing changed the fact that he had gotten injured like an idiot.
Not even in a dignified way, like in a match.
It was during training.
And because of his own ignorance.
“..You better be right,” he muttered, without any real force behind the threat.
“I am,” he said, giving him a small kiss on the forehead while gently stroking him. “Rest. You’ve already done enough for today.”
Loki let out a sigh, staying silent. But this time, his silence didn’t feel like a fight.