Work Text:
Holland stared up at the ceiling fan, the quiet drone of the television in the background. Damaged nerves misfiring, that was all it was. A body remembering the injury but not that it had healed.
More or less.
Laying in bed doing nothing because doing something only caused pain. A lightning strike that ran down his spine and settled at the small of his back with every shift. A heating pad and pain medication only helped so much.
Ojka popped in occasionally to offer tea or anything else he might need. He would appreciate it properly once he was done wallowing in this haze.
Vaguely he could recall the moment of impact, his back hitting the staircase railing. The hours after were a blur of pain.
All because of fucking Athos (he notes distantly the double meaning and chooses to ignore it). It felt almost ironic that he only got violent once and that was enough to cause permanent damage.
He was fortunate he could still walk, fortunate that this pain was temporary. He could only feel that way when the pain was gone.
For now he had to settle for imagining wrapping his hands around Athos’ throat and squeezing.