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Eddie is forced to admit that accepting Max’s dare may not have been his brightest idea.
In his defense, he had been doing fine for most of the time, and everything just went downhill because Mrs. Gilbert’s dog had broken free from its leash and decided to tackle Eddie from the skateboard.
One bad fall, with sixty pounds of overeager golden retriever on top of him, it’s all Eddie needs to get a broken wrist and an unplanned visit to the ER.
He still doesn’t know what’s been more horrifying since his accident, seeing his hand fall limp at an angle it’s definitely not supposed to be able to, or having to endure a nineteen years old Max driving his van to take him to the hospital.
How the hell this kid managed to get her license is still beyond Eddie’s comprehension.
“Watch out, you’re gonna—” Eddie doesn’t have time to finish his warning before Max steps on the brakes too late and they end up hitting the trashcan near the parking spot anyways.
The impact makes both of them fly forward, the seatbelts the only reason their heads won’t be needing any check-ups as well.
Eddie’s broken wrist throbs hot and sharp, and he grits his teeth to hold back the pained scream he wishes he could let out. He holds it together, though; Max is already feeling guilty enough as it is, Eddie doesn’t want to distress the kid any further. He was the one who ultimately decided he was going accept the dare and learn how to skateboard at thirty-three.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Max says, her anxiety making her voice come out high pitched and wrong. She unbuckles her seatbelt, then helps Eddie out of his. “I’m gonna open your door for you, wait up.”
Eddie stops her before she can open her own door. Grabs her arm gently and makes Max look at him with those big, blue eyes of hers.
Poor girl looks paler than she already is.
“Red, breathe.” To make his point, Eddie takes a deep breath himself, urging Max to do the same, then exhales slow and steady with her. They breathe in together again and, this time, Max’s shoulders relax a little. “That’s it, you’re doing great. Feel any better?”
She doesn’t say anything, but still nods.
Good enough for Eddie.
“Look, I know you think this is your fault,” he starts, waving his good hand at his injured one that is currently lying uselessly on his lap, wrapped in a makeshift bandage made out of the spare tee Eddie always keeps in his van for emergencies. “But it’s not. You didn’t make me climb on that skateboard, you didn’t knock me down of it either. This was an accident. It sucks, but it happens.”
Max presses her lips together, struggling to control her feelings enough to keep them from showing on her pretty face. She hates looking so emotional in front of people, and knowing this is the only reason Eddie is keeping his reassurances reasonable and level headed.
If this was Dustin, Eddie would be all warm hugs and kind, cooed words to make him calm down. But Max isn’t Dustin. Acting all touchy feely right now would only make her feel worse.
“I suggested the dare,” she at last says and, damn, Eddie hates the vulnerable trembling in her voice. It’s so different from how she usually is. “I said you couldn’t do it.”
“Exactly, Red. You suggested it. But at the end of the day I climbed up on that skateboard because I decided to, so stop trying to steal the merits of my dumb choices.”
That seems to do the trick. Max worry doesn’t go away completely, of course, but Eddie’s joke knocks a snort out of her and takes some of the nervous edge from her shoulders too.
Yeah, that’s more like it, he thinks to himself. Much, much better.
With Max in a lighter mood, Eddie opens the door with his good hand and climbs out, doing his best not to move his injured wrist too much.
It’s hard. Every little movement makes the sharp pain flare and Eddie’s stomach churn, both with nausea and with the nerve-wracking notion that his fucking bones are snapped in two.
“Should I get someone to wheel you there?” Max asks, as she rounds the car and stops close to Eddie.
Eddie rolls his eyes. “I broke my wrist, kid, not my legs,” he says, nodding his head towards the hospital building. “Come on.”
It’s early afternoon, but the influx of people coming in and out of the building is much bigger than Eddie expected for a Wednesday, and the crowd just grows bigger and more stifling once they get inside.
The pungent smell of bleach and antiseptics makes Eddie’s nose wrinkle in distaste. The noise throws him on a loop, makes Eddie get stuck in place as his eyes roams over the madness that’s the ER’s reception room. Children crying, people talking one over one another, pained cries and full-on screams; all this mixed into a dizzying sort of cacophony that leaves Eddie’s ears ringing.
Is this what Steve has to deal with every shift? Seriously? Jesus Christ, Eddie has been there for less than a minute and he already wishes he could turn tail and run as far away from there as possible.
How does his boyfriend deal with this and still comes back by his own free will?
“Steve said he's coming here,” Max says, as if reading Eddie’s mind. He looks back at where she stands, a couple of steps behind by the sitting area, and only then notices that she’s been texting. “He filled in the forms for you, the doctor’s already waiting for you.”
“When the hell did you tell him we were coming?” Eddie doesn’t remember Max calling Steve to tell him about the accident.
To his surprise, Max looks almost sheepish when she says, “I may have panicked a little when I saw your arm dangling all weird and shit, and begged Mrs. Gilbert to call him before I helped you up and into the van.”
It’s a testament of how much pain Eddie had been feeling at that time because he still doesn’t have any memory of that particular conversation happening. All Eddie remembers after Pancake tackled him out of the skateboard is a lot of screaming and the weight of the poor dog crushing his ribcage and stealing the air from his lungs.
Eddie’s about to tell Max this, but Steve’s unmistakable voice calling out his name interrupts their conversation.
They both turn at the same time, following that familiar voice, and there is Steve, in his cute scrubs and hair a total disaster as he crosses the reception room in quick strides towards them.
The sight of his boyfriend is enough to ease that tight knot in Eddie’s gut, and he feels his body sag a little as he takes a few steps forwards, the need to reach Steve faster growing frantic, unbearable.
“Oh my God, Eddie, what happened? Mrs. Gilbert said you fell from a skateboard? But you don’t skate.”
The worry makes his words come out rushed, jumbled. Steve’s hands touch Eddie’s hair, his face, his shoulders and arms as if needing to feel him and make sure that he’s still in one piece, although a little worse for wear than usual.
“I’m sorry, Steve, I dared him to,” Max explains, and the vulnerable note is back in her voice. “I told Eddie he was too old to learn how to skate. I didn’t mean any of this to happen. I’m sorry.”
“You dared him? But—”
Grabbing his boyfriend’s hand, Eddie pulls him gently until Steve’s looking at him again, until he knows he’s got Steve’s full attention. “Baby, I’m fine. It was just an accident.”
Steve gets what Eddie’s really trying to say to him right away. Of course he does; they’ve reached a point in their relationship where a single look is more than enough to convey what is left unsaid between them.
“I see,” he nods, the worry on his face bleeding out and sobering up. Steve squeezes Eddie’s good hand in reassurance. “Then why don’t you come with me so Dr. Martin can take a look on your arm? You can come too, Max.”
Eddie offers him a grateful smile, and the three of them make their way through the double doors that separate the reception room from the rest of the hospital.
Steve doesn’t let go of his boyfriend’s hand for a single moment.
They take the elevator to the third floor, and Steve leads them until they reach a closed door. Dr. Eloise Martin, orthopedist, written in bold black letters on the white sign on the wall beside the door.
“Max, do you mind if I get in with him?” Steve asks, softly. “I know you’re worried, but I can assure you that Dr. Martin is one of the bests. Eddie will be in good hands.”
Max hesitates, and Eddie can’t help the surge of fondness he feels for the kid. As tough as she always tries to look, it’s obvious how much she actually cares about the ones she holds dear, and Eddie is honored to realize he’s part of this select group.
“I’ll be okay,” he guarantees. “You saved my ass by bringing me here, Red. Thank you.”
“Sure. Okay.”
Releasing Eddie’s hand gently, Steve steps closer and wraps his arms around Max’s shoulders, bringing her close into a comforting hug that she’s quick to reciprocate.
“Thank you for helping him,” he whispers into her hair, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head as Max rests her cheek against his shoulder. “You brought him safely to me, you did the right thing, dear. Now I'm gonna help him too, yeah?”
When they part, Max’s eyes are bloodshot but no one mentions it.
“There’s a vending machine in the waiting room,” Steve tells her. He takes his wallet out of his pocket and fishes a couple of bills. “Why don’t you get something for you while you wait? I’ve heard they restocked the Reese’s peanut butter cups this morning.”
“Okay,” Max agrees, taking the money. She’s about to turn, but seems to think better of it and looks back at Eddie. “Do you want anything?”
This fucking kid. Seriously. If Eddie wasn’t feeling like shit right now, he’d lock her in a hug of his own.
“Maybe some Skittles, if they have them,” he answers. “Thanks, Max.”
Satisfied, she turns around and makes her way down the hallway, then turns left towards the waiting area.
Both Steve and Eddie watch her go until she’s out of side. Only then does Steve look back at his boyfriend, the cheerful front he’s been putting on for Max’s sake slipping off his face as he reaches for Eddie’s good hand again.
“How bad is it?” He asks quietly, eyeing his boyfriend’s precariously wrapped arm with worry.
The question disarms Eddie completely. It frees him from that fake strong façade and allows Eddie to at last feel his own pain. A choked-out cry leaves his throat, and he takes a single step towards his boyfriend before he finds himself in Steve’s arms.
“It hurts so much,” Eddie sobs, the first tears finally breaking free and dampening Steve’s scrubs when Eddie buries his face on the crook of his neck. “How am I gonna write with a fucked-up wrist, Stevie? My deadline is within five weeks, I need to turn in the book before that.”
“Shh, it’s okay, we’re gonna find a way,” Steve murmurs gently, his fingers carding through Eddie’s hair and massaging his scalp as Eddie cries silently. “We're gonna fix your wrist first, then we’re gonna focus on finishing your book on time. We’re gonna be fine, baby. You’re gonna be just fine.”
They stay like that for a few minutes. Steve holding him and murmuring soft reassurances in his ear while Eddie cries all over him, the stress from the accident and from holding it together for so long at last finding their way out through sobs and tears. They must be making quite a scene for anyone walking past them but Eddie honestly doesn’t fucking care; he’s just grateful that Steve’s with him right now, that he doesn’t need to hide his pain anymore.
When the tears subside, Steve eases his hold, wiping the tears from his boyfriend’s face with kind fingers and soft kisses on his cheeks.
“That's it. Feel any better?”
The similarity between Steve’s words and the ones Eddie told Max a few minutes ago is not lost on him, and Eddie huffs out a laugh as he nods.
“Yeah, thank you.”
Steve smiles at him fondly; wipes a stray tear and kisses Eddie’s forehead, then his nose.
“There’s no need to thank me, baby, I love you,” he says.
The ‘thank you for coming to me’, ‘thank you for trusting me with your vulnerabilities’, ‘thank you for letting me help’ are all left unsaid but Eddie still catches them anyway. Again, they don’t really need words to understand each other anymore. They are way past that point.
“I love you too,” he whispers back, just for Steve.
They share another sweet kiss before Steve leads Eddie to see Dr. Martin, hands always interlocked in silent support.