Chapter Text
“Greet," the small yet tall, brown haired, pale skinned boy in the corner of the library whispered just loud enough for Josh to hear from the Roman history section. Intrigued, Josh watched as the beautifully groomed golden retriever by his side quickly padded away from his owner and across to a woman in the politics section, brushing its head against her leg briefly then scampering away without her even noticing. Next Josh realised that the dog was heading for him and he nervously and a little awkwardly curled half his fingers so he could hold the palm of his wrist braces for a little comfort in the unfamiliar situation. He knew the basic rule of service dogs, don't touch, so he did his best to resist the urge to stroke the beautiful animal as it grazed him in passing then went plodding down another row of books.
Since he couldn't see the dog anymore, instead Josh looked up and saw the owner, and recognised the anxiety in his closed body language. They made brief eye contact but it was quickly torn away by a raised voice in the economics section.
"Whose mutt is this?!"
"Bella, come," he raced over to the source of the conflict and out of Josh's view too, but thanks to the silence of the library, he could hear every word they said to each other whilst continuing to browse non-fiction. Maybe he should be thankful, or maybe it was a curse to hear such harsh words directed at someone innocent, and be helpless to stop it.
"This is a public library and you've got an animal running loose?! Have some fucking manners." The hostile man growled ironically.
"She-she's a service dog, she's working, she, we, we have a right to be here, sir."
"A right? A right! Fucking millennials and their fucking entitlement! Guess what kid, the world doesn't care about you and your stupid mutt, you're selfish, you're ruining my experience today, and you're really really pissing me off." He raised his voice and Josh wished he was brave enough to step in and say something, anything, in defence of the stranger. But no, he was paralysed to the spot and struggling to cope with the guilt.
"Now here's a bright idea, rather than letting that thing go around stinking the place out, damaging the books, and harassing strangers, why don't you go outside, dump the dog, and get a fucking job?!" The man bellowed but nobody said anything, except the service dog who whined. "See how you survive in the real world, snowflake."
Josh tried not to stare, scared of confrontation, but caught a flash of gold in the corner of his eye and heard the footsteps, and paw steps, that told him the boy and his service dog had left the library. He let out a disappointed sigh, disappointed in the man, disappointed in society, and disappointed in himself for doing nothing to stop it.
"Andy,"
"What? That thing sniffed my ass!" The man said to whoever was with him, and Josh had a slight flicker of hope that someone might be about to reprimand him.
"No, I know darling, just wanted to say that the new Jane Mayer is over here." The woman, potentially his wife, replied and Josh sighed again because he knew he shouldn't have expected anyone to actually do anything.
Today was a fairly bad day, he couldn't straighten his fingers to push the books back in that he had partially pulled out, and instead had to use the side of his hand with the help of his splint. Once every book looked undisturbed, he took a painful limped step, the first one was always the hardest, then managed to stagger forwards with his weight heavily pressing on his cane, and made fairly good progress towards the exit.
He was only about 10 metres from the door, urgency in his heart as he hoped the man hadn't left too quickly, when the pain got to such a degree that he had no choice but to lean against the wall for a moment and count to 10, taking deep breaths between each number. It didn't seem to help much, but he was able to hobble the rest of the way so he supposed it must have alleviated the pain to a tiny degree.
Thankfully the door was automatic so he didn't have to fumble with any handles, and he was hit with a wave of cold fresh air and then relief when he saw the pair sat on the bench against the exterior wall. The boy, man, young man, was leant over with his head in his hands, obviously upset and audibly hyperventilating, and the dog, service dog, Bella, was pushing her head against his knee.
Josh knew he should have introduced himself, at the very least announced he was there, but pain prioritised his thoughts and he had to lean against the metal arm of the wooden bench. It clearly startled the young man and he let out a gasp and jumped.
"Sorry, sorry, you don't have to leave, just, I have arthritis, can I sit?" Josh asked nervously and the man with the dog nodded before hiding his face again. With a groan, Josh unflatteringly lowered himself down onto the bench then let out an involuntarily sigh as the weight left his achy knees. He needed to tighten his right ankle brace and both knee braces but knew his inflamed fingers weren't up to the task so didn't even bother trying.
"Greet." The guy whispered, just like the first time Josh had heard is gentle voice, and Bella stopped pressing into his leg and instead came across and brushed against Josh's knees once again before returning to her owner's leg and pushing.
"Hey there Bella,"
"How, h-ow," he stammered but Josh knew that he was going to say.
"Back there, you said her name when you called her back,"
"Oh,"
"She's beautiful."
"Th-ank you."
"Would it be okay if I stroked her? I know she's a service dog and you're not meant to distract them."
"She's w-working,"
"Okay, sorry," Josh said without any sense of bitterness, just watched the dog push against him and wondered what job she was doing exactly. Not that it was any of his business.
"I just wanted to check you're okay, you know, after what the asshat said to you? He shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry he did."
"Not your fault."
"Not yours either, for what it's worth, I know you were in the right."
"Mmm," he hummed, taking one hand off his face and scratching the top of Bella's head.
"If there's anything I can do-"
"There's not." The stranger interrupted, not rudely, more in an upset manner.
"Okay, well I'm sorry he spoke to you like that anyway, you didn't deserve that."
"I, I'm, I," he struggled to spit out a sentence. "I have to go."
•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
"Whatcha reckon girl? We gonna manage today?" Tyler asked Bella, scratching under her ears after putting her vest on. She leant into his hand, most likely because she wanted a firmer scratch, but Tyler chose to interpret it as her saying yes, saying of course, saying absolutely it was a good idea to attempt to leave the house twice in one week. Even though every inch of his body told him it was a ludicrous idea, Bella was telling him he should do it and so he would.
"You say something?" Zack poked his head round the door.
"Just to Bella," he explained softly.
"Ah right, okay, no worries. I'm next door if you need me,"
"Thanks," Tyler said and his brother disappeared again.
They'd lived together in the plain 2 bedroom house in the fringes of the city, not quite into the suburban belt but far enough away from the hive of the CBD for Tyler to have his much needed quiet for the past 3 months, and Tyler was still getting used to it. Every form of accommodation was supposed to be a step down from the last, it started with hospital for a year, then his parents for a year, now a place with Zack, and maybe one day he'd be able to live alone. It was a scary thought, stupid, overwhelming, and Bella picked up on it instantly nuzzled against him.
"Sorry girl, sorry, I know, you don't like it when I'm anxious either, I know," he sighed and scratched her ears again, both as a reward for her and a distraction for him. "Such a good girl, aren't you? Good girl,"
When Bella seemed satisfied that Tyler's sudden onset anxiety had subsided, she stopped pushing so hard, a method called deep pressure therapy, but that didn't mean Tyler stopped stroking till a moment later.
"Bella, meds." Tyler commanded and she tugged open the drawer via its specially installed rope then grabbed the yellow pouch with her mouth and dropped it in his lap. "Close," he reminded her and she went back to the drawer and used her nose to complete the task.
Really the meds fetch was only meant for emergencies, when Tyler was having a panic attack or episode and needed his PRN, his rescue meds, but couldn't stand to go and get them. However, he didn't see the harm in practicing with her, especially since she was a fairly new dog. On the grand scheme of things, an 8 month partnership was nothing.
Tyler picked up the glass of water on the side of his bed and unzipped the pouch, popping all 6 of his pills from the 4 different sheets, then swallowed them down easily before petting Bella again gratefully.
"Good girl,"
"Oh, Tyler," Zack walked back into his bedroom.
"Yeh?"
"Sorry I forgot to mention earlier, I'm going out with some guys from school on Friday. Do you want me to arrange for a sitter? Or are you gonna stay with Mom and Dad?"
"A sitter's gonna turn up expecting a baby and actually find a 28 year old dude, yeah, that doesn't seem creepy at all."
"I meant one of those home visit nurses from Brook House."
"Oh, a community psych? No, no it's okay, I don't want to bother them."
"Ty you're not bothering them, you're utilising a service and keeping yourself safe. Should I call and try and book a session with one? Trudy maybe?"
"It's okay, I'll stay home with Bella." He tried to argue and the dog’s head shot up at the mention of her name, Tyler reaching to stroke her back softly but her angling for her head.
"You know what Mom said, you're not allowed to be on your own at night just yet."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I dunno but we're going to a bar, so at least a couple of hours, and when I do come home I’ll be tipsy, maybe drunk, so I'm not going to be able to think properly if you need help."
"Oh,"
"Even if you don't think so, personally I'd feel better if you were with someone."
"I'll just, uh, just go to Mom's for the night."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, and I'll pick you and Bella up in the morning and bring you home again."
"Thanks Zack."
"Are you two going out on another adventure?" He gestured to Bella's vest.
"Oh, um, I, I, nah, think we might just stay in."
"Were you planning on doing anything before I came in?"
"Just round the block."
"But you don't feel like it anymore?"
"Nah," Tyler tried to say casually but Zack saw straight through it.
"I'm sorry Tyler, I didn’t mean to throw you off your game,"
"Not your fault."
"Should the three of us go to the park? Let her off duty and throw her a couple of sticks? I'll stay by you to make sure you're okay."
"Thanks but no thanks."
"Need to stay in?"
"Yeah,"
"Okay," Zack accepted, thankfully not pushing him out of his comfort zone. Although he didn’t exactly feel comfortable, well, ever.
•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
Living alone was definitely the worst idea Josh had ever had, and yet he was in no rush to change his circumstances. He'd become comfortable - ironic word choice - with being as verbal as he wanted to be, and knew that it would be hard to fit his groans and complaints back in a box. So it was a relief in a way that he could swear as much as he needed to in order to cope with the pain involved in getting up in the morning without either the judgement or the concern of a housemate.
On the other hand, living alone was Hell because he had nobody to help him every time he dropped something or to plug his heat mat in every time his stiff fingers made gripping a plug impossible or even to run him a hot bath after a long day of simply existing.
Pain is draining, that's something that most people have little appreciation for, but after more than a decade of constant pain, Josh knew that it sapped your energy far quicker than anyone gave it credit. Despite being unable to work anymore or even leave the house for long, every single night Josh collapsed in a painful heap of exhaustion, constantly fatigued and never feeling rested despite sleeping and napping the days away. Even sleep didn't come easy with extreme pain, but eventually fatigue always won the battle and he was able to drift off for a few moments of respite.
Josh remembered back when he was 13 and first started getting joint pain. He remembered being 16 and having flare ups that lasted 2 days and thinking the world was ending. He remembered back when remission days were a thing, back when flare ups lasted less than 3 weeks and the days in between were plentiful. He remembered back when things were easier, felt remotely possible.
Now he lived in an apartment with a back room filled with crates of braces and splints, sets for the day and sets for the night, crutches and walking sticks for painful knee days, and a wheelchair for hopeless days. And it was making more and more frequent appearances.
Getting ready to face each day was the bane of Josh's existence. Climbing out of bed often took him close to 10 minutes and usually involved sliding onto the floor at some point, then trying to take off night splints with painfully stiff fingers was near impossible and he used his teeth for the Velcro more often than he was proud of. Once all the equipment was removed, he only had to replace each item with an ever so slightly adjusted version for the day. Trying to pop out his many pills from their blister packs was now an impossible task and he had ordered himself a little device off Amazon which popped them out for him, but he still had to mess about trying to scoop them off the table and into his mouth. And as for dressing, well, once he was finally wearing the soft elasticated clothes after a struggle, he was usually so exhausted or in so much pain that he went straight back to sleep.
Last September he had set himself the goal of leaving the house for at least an hour every single day. This September his goal was to leave the house for half an hour twice a week. With a library trip already under his belt for the first half of the week, Josh gave himself a break and climbed back into bed with no intentions of attempting anything else that day. That was, of course, until bedtime when he had to complete his whole routine in reverse.
•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
Seeing the same guy on both of his two outings that week was suspicious, and for a moment, Tyler considered sending Bella on a greeting mission to make sure the strange-looking boy with the braces wasn't a hallucination. But Bella had greeted him twice before on their library run, so Tyler tried his best to trust himself and his intuition and keep Bella by his side. Even though he hadn't given any command, she noticed his sudden anxiety and started pressing herself against his leg to keep him grounded and keep him breathing.
The guy, Tyler didn't know his name, hadn't noticed him. Maybe he would when he turned around, maybe he wouldn't, but in the meantime Tyler watched curiously. They were in a local and fairly crappy museum filled with displays of tiny amounts of old stuff. Tyler wasn't even sure exactly what the museum was for, all he knew was that it was 7 minutes from his house on foot and it was mostly empty and it counted as an outing in his team's eyes. It ticked all the boxes.
Since arriving 20 minutes ago, all he'd done was sit on the bench with Bella by his side, not bothering to read a single display board. History didn't interest him especially, however what did interest him was the way the guy from the library limped with his cane from one glass display to the next, seemingly very eager to see what was in the case.
Tyler remembered that he had been standing in the history section of the library, maybe he was an eager historian. He also remembered what he had said about arthritis, which also raised a lot of questions since Tyler had thought the illness only ever affected the older generation. But he didn't have time to ponder it deeply because suddenly the man he had been staring at turned around and started slowly limping towards him.
"Block." Tyler whispered discreetly, and Bella stood in front of his shins and formed a protective barrier, just in case.
"Hey there, it's you again, not following me, are you?" He smiled as he failed to hide a wince of pain whilst sitting next to him on the bench.
"N-n-no, no,"
"No I know, I'm only joking,"
"Oh,"
"Sorry," the stranger apologised when he realised the joke hadn't hit.
"It's okay,"
"My name's Josh by the way."
"Tyler." He held out his hand for shaking like his team was always encouraging him to, despite his hatred of physical contact, but thankfully Josh came to his rescue with an excuse of his own.
"Sorry, bad hands, I can give you a friendly nod though?"
"O-okay," Tyler bowed his head once and so did Josh.
"So what's brought you here? Usually I only have company if it's raining outside and people are looking for shelter." Josh asked.
"I, um, my brother, I live close by and my brother suggested I tried c-coming." He did his best not to stammer but didn't succeed.
"Oh you live near then? Because I'm literally in the block right across the street."
"Yeah, I live on Cedar street. That's why you come? Because it's convenient?"
"Well the vintage sewing machines aren't exactly worth travelling very far for." Josh laughed but Tyler could hear the unsettling underlying pain. "I first came here 11 weeks ago, they have 97 display cases, I visit once a week and look at 4 displays each trip. 13 weeks till Christmas, 53 displays left to look at, one week I'll have to push myself and get 5 done, but I reckon I can do it and get them all looked at by Christmas Eve."
"Um, uh, uh, good luck?" Tyler wasn't sure what to say.
"Maybe you and Bella can join me next week to help me conquer the antique typewriter section?"
"Maybe."
"Sorry, I just, sorry, sorry," Josh suddenly started apologising.
"Huh? F-for, for what?"
"Immediately jumping on you because I've seen you twice in a week. The whole desperation vibe I reek of."
"You're not desperate,"
"I am, I know I am, I've just never been very good at this whole socialising thing, sorry. Anyway, I best be getting home, but it was nice to see you, sorry," Josh stood up with a groan.
"Why?" Tyler managed to say, Bella rubbing against him to calm his anxiety.
"Hmm?"
"Why are you, uh, you leaving? Cos of me?"
"I embarrassed myself I guess, not you."
"You haven't." He said quietly. "I, okay, um, I, I have a phone?"
"Oh," Josh was the one lost for words.
"Do you want it?"
"Your number you mean?"
"Oh, yeh, number, not my phone, course not my phone," Tyler shook his head then let out a small smile he would usually repress.
"That would be nice, thank you Tyler,"
"That's okay, it's 07-"
"Wait, sorry, bad hands, can you type it in for me please?" Josh passed across his iPhone and Tyler took a shaky breath, Bella firm against him, then used all his bravery to insert his number.