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Dennis slowly opened the doors, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his wrist. He once again mentally berated himself for being an idiot, while he called out greeting, with others responding to him in various volumes. He was the last one to arrive at the rehearsal, but still had two minutes to spare, so he quickly divested himself of the jacket and sweater, wincing at the pain radiating from his wrist. Then he made the mistake of waving back at Vanessa, almost shouting out loud when it felt like his hand would fall off.
He collapsed to sit on the bench, biting his lip in a futile effort to override the pain, as he took off his shoes to put on sneakers. Thankfully, shoelaces were easily undone with one hand, and his sneakers were that old comfortable kind where shoelaces didn’t need to be touched for several years.
Max bounded up to him, eager to share his plans for his date with Sandra that evening, which successfully distracted Dennis, lifting his mood a little. There was no time to talk about anything else, as Chris then called everyone to start the rehearsal.
They were going through the whole play, a small-town drama about corrupt officials, with scripts in their hands. Dennis had a small part of a bank clerk, which allowed him to simply sit behind the prop desk and put the script there when he was on the scene. He was a little distracted, his brain occupied with the fact that all was not well with his hand, therefore he sometimes zoned out and then hastily scrambled to figure out in which scene they were.
He noticed Chris gave him a few frowning glances, but the director had his hands full with walking them through various scenes, not yet working with them individually. So Dennis congratulated himself on successfully remaining inconspicuous, while gritting his teeth when he forgot and tried to turn pages of the script with the wrong hand.
After Chris called the end of the rehearsal, Max and Sandra left as quickly as possible, to be on time for their dinner reservation, and Robert followed right after them. His speedy departure made Jonathan tease him about also having a date, to which Robert only flipped him the bird before the door shut behind him. It did nothing to stop Annie, Jonathan, and Trevor from laughing.
Dennis grinned too, because he vaguely remembered Robert saying something about meeting Lucy and his sister a few days ago, and when Robert told him in the morning that he won’t be coming with him from the rehearsal, he guessed that could be the reason.
Dennis was meanwhile stalling, fiddling with his phone, taking his time to type a response to his mum’s text message, the whole thing slowed down by the fact that he could only type with one hand, and by the realization that his phone was too stupidly wide to do that efficiently.
One by one everyone departed, calling their goodbyes, and soon Dennis was the only one left standing in the main area. Annie and Vanessa asked if they should wait for him, but he waved them off (this time using the correct hand) with a smile, telling them there was no need.
Dennis sat on the bench, pulling his sweater over his head, feeling his eyes water at the sharp pain lancing through his wrist. He toed off his sneakers, easily slipping into his untied shoes without having to involve his bad hand, before he realized he was going to have to tie his shoes again.
The prospect of that suddenly seemed daunting, because the thought of doing anything his hand made him want to cry. He spent several moments blankly looking down at his shoelaces, psyching himself up as his wrist throbbed.
Unexpectedly he was brought out of it by Chris, who materialized as if by magic and sat down next to him. Not close enough to touch him, but facing him and close enough to make it clear he wanted Dennis to pay attention to him.
Dennis startled. It slipped his mind that Chris was usually the last one to leave. He lifted his head, and his eyes widened when he realized Chris was looking at him with disconcerting intensity.
“Dennis.” The director said in a resolute voice, both his tone and focused gaze making Dennis wilt a little with a realization there is nowhere to hide now. He briefly thought that if he would ever have an opportunity to play a gazelle nervous about a tiger, all he would have to do is to remember this situation. “Yes?” He squeaked.
“Are you hurt?” Chris asked directly, his green eyes boring into Dennis’ startled ones.
“No?” Dennis said, despairing at his unconvincing tone.
Chris lifted his eyebrows, unimpressed, and Dennis folded up faster than a swiss knife.
“My wrist hurts a little,” Dennis admitted.
“What happened?” Chris shifted his focus to Dennis’ hand. “I don’t remember any incident,” he said with a frown, as if mentally running through the rehearsal again.
“No, it didn’t happen at the rehearsal,” Dennis hastened to clarify. Chris said nothing, regarding him with a questioning look and Dennis took a fortifying breath.
It was a fact of life that stupid stories are more easier to tell some people than others, no matter how much you like those people. With Max, they would both laugh their arses off, and Max would immediately share his own stupid story, inevitably leading to telling even more stupid stories.
Chris on the other hand took things seriously, and somehow had the ability to make a person feel grounded in reality (mainly the real reality, but sometimes even in the reality of a play, which was a confusing combination for Dennis), and it had an unfortunate side effect of making people evaluate their intelligence and life choices that led them to their stupid decisions and life choices in the first place.
“I was in the park before the rehearsal,” Dennis started, looking everywhere but at Chris, who nodded to show he was listening. “There was a sleeping swan on the edge of the lake. I came closer to take a better look.” He glanced at Chris, noting his lifted eyebrow, which on another person would be an exclamation of disbelief.
“I never really saw one up close!” Dennis defended his suspect reasoning. “I thought about petting her,” he admitted, and quickly continued when he heard Chris take an incredulous breath, “But she woke up, and gave me a chase.” The swan didn’t take kindly to a stranger standing in close proximity when she was coming out of a nap, switching immediately into attack mode. Which was understandable.
“I tripped and fell with almost all my weight on my wrist,” Dennis finished with a brief awkward laugh, which didn’t last very long as Chris didn’t join him. Thankfully, the swan clearly didn’t know what to do with a downed prey, so after a few more threatening hisses, she wandered away. All in all, it could have been worse.
“Oh, Dennis,” Chris sighed, briefly closing his eyes, and rubbing his forehead before looking at Dennis again. He didn’t laugh, focusing instead on the matter at hand, no pun intended. “Can you move your hand and fingers?”
“Yes, but it hurts, and I would rather not,” Dennis said, trustingly reaching out his hand to Chris. Now that he told Chris, and the initial embarrassment had passed, he realized he didn’t need to worry. Chris was usually level-headed when a play-going-awry was not involved, and when nobody was intentionally riling him up (looking at you, Robert).
Chris obligingly took Dennis’ wrist, long fingers curling around it in a gentle gesture. Chris’ hand was cold, and Dennis didn’t know if he imagined it or not, but the pain abated slightly. “And it hurts more when I press here,” Dennis pointed out the place near his thumb, close to where Chris’ thumb also rested. Chris hummed in acknowledgement, but did not try to press the spot.
“Let’s get it checked out,” Chris said. “All I can tell is that it is swollen, and probably warmer than it should be,” he shrugged.
“Do you think it’s broken?” Dennis felt his stomach lurch a little, the idea of having a broken bone making him feel queasy.
“I don’t know, but better to be safe than sorry,” Chris said seriously, not bothering with platitudes. “Wrists are tricky, and important, so I would prefer to be sure either way.”
Dennis nodded, because Chris was right, but admittedly, Chris also said that about most of their sustained injuries. Twisted ankles, sprained joints or fingers, clinched or torn muscles, hits to the head…Chris always either offered or demanded to take the afflicted person to the doctor, no matter his current level of irritation. In the case of unconsciousness after being hit to the head, he didn’t even bother to ask, as everyone knew his stance on that, and it involved a non-optional trip to A&E.
“We have icepacks somewhere,” Chris gently put Dennis’ wrist down to rest on Dennis’ knee, standing up to rummage in the cupboard on the other side of the room. He quickly returned, folding and shaking the pack to activate it, before wrapping it in a scrap of fabric that Dennis recognized as a part of Annie’s costume that didn’t survive a rehearsal a few weeks ago.
“Here,” Chris knelt in front of Dennis and carefully wrapped the covered icepack around Dennis’ wrist as best as he could, making Dennis sigh in relief.
“Hold it, and move it where you want,” Chris directed him. “I will grab my things,” He stood up again, in search of his bag and coat.
By the time he returned, Dennis stood waiting for him, after successfully putting on his own jacket, juggling the icepack along with it, and only twice making himself hiss when he inadvertently moved his hand.
“Ready?” Chris asked, before immediately answering himself. “No, wait.”
Dennis was briefly confused when Chris dropped on his knee again in front of him, reaching for his shoes, before realizing that he never in fact tied his shoelaces.
“What-Chris-no, are you actually tying my shoes?” Dennis yelped disbelievingly, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. There was something extremely weird about other person tying his shoes, even if Chris was his friend.
“Dennis, I think you tripped more than enough today,” Chris stated. His serious conviction that what he was doing was absolutely logical did make Dennis’ decision to smile easier.
The task done, Chris then stood up, taking Dennis’ backpack over his other shoulder, herding Dennis out of the door while turning off the lights. Dennis did not even bother to protest that, simply enjoying the warm feeling that comes with being a recipient of a gallant gesture.
Chris locked the door, and then led Dennis across the parking lot to his car. He opened the passenger door for Dennis, and when he joined him in the car, he helped Dennis to click in his seat belt, which was a little awkward to do with one hand.
All of that Chris had done with the same matter-of-fact manner, his expression saying he was clearly thinking of other things, probably not even registering when Dennis said ‘thank you’. As if those were simply automatic things to do and didn’t make Dennis’ heart swell a little at Chris’ unaware thoughtfulness.
“It will be probably a little busy at A&E, but hopefully it won’t take a whole night,” Chris said as he started the engine and drove the car in a well-known direction.
“They will send me for x-rays,” Dennis could easily guess the course of action.
“Probably,” Chris agreed, eyes on the road. “Why didn’t you simply go directly to see a doctor? I would understand you couldn’t come to the rehearsal. Or you could have told me immediately when you came in.”
Dennis shrugged, knowing that his vague hope that the pain would pass without an outside intervention was a little bit naive. And it didn’t occur to him that he could simply tell Chris, for some reason, even though it would be his first reaction if it happened during the rehearsal.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it would be fine.”
Chris made a sceptical noise. “It usually never is,” he said dryly while shaking his head, sounding a little jaded. Just last week, Trevor thought it would be fine to leave a small bucket of paint on a ladder, only to fear for his life when vengeful Sandra and surprisingly no less vengeful Vanessa declared war on him, when the bucket was accidentally, but inevitably upended on them.
Dennis sagely nodded, not sure which exact incident was Chris referring to, and not wanting to ask, because there was a myriad of possibilities. He didn’t know if it was because of the icepack, or Chris’ unruffled demeanour implying that going to get x-rays was nothing to be worried about, but he already felt better and calmer.
Soon they were sitting next to each other in the waiting area for Dennis to have his wrist checked, Chris automatically taking the forms and filling in the information. That left Dennis only with a task to rest his wrist with and watch with interest the ease with which Chris tackled all the formalities that needed to be taken care of.
Taking one or more of them to A&E was sadly commonplace for Chris, with all the injuries (thankfully, usually mild) that occurred in their productions. And it was certainly not the first time Chris took Dennis there. But Dennis still felt it was a little different in this case.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Dennis interrupted the silence. “You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did,” Chris turned to him with a confused expression, briefly stopping his writing, not understanding why Dennis was mentioning it.
“But you didn’t have to,” Dennis insisted. “I didn’t get injured at the rehearsal or play.” Even though he was sure that the whole personally-escorting-your-actors-and-crew-to-the-hospital-if-they-are-injured was Chris’ own initiative, and not some official rule for directors.
Actually, now that Dennis talked about it, the less sense his own distinction made. Of course Chris wouldn’t just send him home after discovering Dennis was injured at the end of the rehearsal. But for some reason it made him feel warm, Chris simply dropping everything to help him, as if it was the most obvious thing to do.
And Dennis managed to injure himself simply because of his own stupidity. And while that could be said about a lot of their injuries, this one happened out of Chris’ self-proclaimed jurisdiction, so to speak.
“I was just the idiot who annoys a swan.” He stated with a self-deprecating smile. It turned into a real one, when Chris first uncharacteristically snorted, and then started to laugh, saying ‘chased by a swan’ between chuckles. Dennis joined him, because making Chris honestly laugh out loud was always an unexpected thrill.
Getting a little more serious, Chris completed the last line of the form with a flourish. “Dennis,” he said, turning to him, a smile still playing on his lips. “I would take you to a doctor even if an angel descended from heaven and personally lobbed a stone at your head as a divine punishment for being a dunderhead.” Chris finished exasperatedly, making Dennis giggle.
“Okay, thank you,” Dennis laughed, understanding the dig at the consequences of his own actions, and the message that Chris would try to help him no matter what. “It’s nice of you,” he stated earnestly, to which Chris just shrugged, as always unsure what to do with compliments.
There was a small pause. Then Dennis curiously piped up: “Even if it was Robert?”
“What?”
“Who would be attacked by the angel,” Dennis clarified, the large smile staying on his face.
“Yes,” Chris asserted, fighting his own grin. “The only difference is that I would first ask the angel to repeat the action so I could take a video and show it to the whole goddamned world,” he deadpanned, making Dennis wheeze in laughter.
They tried to stifle their laughing in order not to disturb the other people in the room, but still cracked up several times more, whenever their eyes met, the idea of Robert socked by a vengeful angel not leaving their brains anytime soon.
Shortly after, Dennis was called in to be checked, and Chris trailed after him, keeping him company through the initial assessment, waiting for him to get the x-rays, and then again waiting together for the verdict.
In the end, Dennis’ wrist was not broken but sprained, and he was told to ice it, move it as little as possible, and keep it for the next few days in the protective brace they gave him. He felt a wave of relief at the only-sprained news, and judging from Chris’s own smile and encouraging pat on the back he gave Dennis, Chris felt the same.
After getting a prescription for painkillers and picking up the pills from a nearby pharmacy, and stopping to buy some sandwiches because they were both hungry, Chris drove him home, the evening slowly turning into the night.
Chris parked the car turning the engine off, reaching for Dennis’ bag, and clearly intending to walk Dennis to the door. He unlocked the door for Dennis, trailing after him to the flat at Dennis’ invitation.
“Is Robert not yet home?” Chris asked rhetorically, seeing the answer in the form of quiet flat. When Dennis nevertheless confirmed the observation, Chris took off his coat, ready to keep him company, and Dennis had to turn away because his large smile threatened to split his face.
“Let’s watch Tangled!” Dennis brightly suggested, already switching on the TV, on a mission to introduce Chris to yet another Disney movie. Chris sighed, but went to make them tea, accepting his fate. It was not something he would choose to watch on his own, but it was impossible to be friends with Dennis and not to be exposed to animated movies, so he was willing to give the film a chance.
Chris joined Dennis on the sofa, not minding when Dennis inched a little closer when he thought Chris was not paying attention. They ate their sandwiches, Dennis sang along with the songs, and Chris got invested in the story.
Somewhere around the halfway point, Dennis dozed off, his chest warm not only from the tea.
And although Chris thought leaning on his bony shoulder couldn’t be comfortable, he let Dennis rest there, sinking a little lower on the couch to keep Dennis’ neck in a more natural angle.
Robert didn’t expect upon his return home to find Chris sitting on his sofa, interestedly watching the final scenes of Tangled, while Dennis contentedly snoozed, leaning on Chris.
“What is going on here?” Robert asked perplexed as the credits rolled, consciously trying to speak quietly, noting the brace on Dennis’ wrist.
“He hurt his wrist, so I took him to the doctor,” Chris explained, trying not to sound defensive.
“At the rehearsal?” Robert was surprised, because he couldn’t remember anything worth noting happening.
Chris only shook his head, a half-smirk and a half-grimace on his face, and Robert nodded in understanding, briefly raising his eyes heavenwards. He was sure he was going to hear the whole story by morning at the latest, whether he wanted to or not.
“I’ll be on my way,” Chris tried to both stand up and carefully ease Dennis off him, with Robert amusedly watching the operation and not doing anything to help.
Chris of course spectacularly failed, with Dennis waking up and blinking sleepily just when Chris straightened up.
“Are you going?” He asked Chris.
“Yes, it’s getting late.” Chris nodded, pretending he didn’t see Robert mouthing at him ‘you old softie’, with a knowing smirk. It was clear Robert quickly figured out that Chris was waiting for him to come home rather than leave Dennis alone.
“Okay.” Dennis then stood up, surprisingly steady for someone who was just sleeping and couldn’t use his wrist to lever himself up. “Thanks again, Chris,” he said, embracing Chris, trying to convey certain things without words.
“Uh…you’re welcome,” Chris awkwardly hugged him in return and patted his back, trying to ignore Robert’s mocking gaze on him.
Gently detangling himself from Dennis, Chris quickly made his escape, hastily calling goodnight, while grabbing his coat, not even putting it on before slipping out of the flat.
As he was softly closing the door behind himself, he heard Dennis tell Robert “-did you know swans also don’t like when somebody stands above them when they are asleep, just like you?”
Chris hoped his laughter didn’t carry through the quiet building.