maybe nicky refused any care after the attack outside of eden’s. someone called an ambulance but he wouldn’t speak to them nor let them touch him because he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford what they’d charge. instead, he heaved himself off the ground and started hobbling towards aaron and their car, hurrying so that the police cars with andrew wouldn’t disappear out of sight.
maybe he woke up groaning the next morning, to the sight of his body painted in shades of red and blue. the worst of it is one of his legs, where both his knee and ankle have swollen to twice their usual size. that morning became the first of many when he had to grit his teeth to get out of bed.
maybe he tried to take care of it as best he can. he wrapped it as tightly as he could in gauze, with his fingers digging into his lips as not to wake the twins up by screaming. on the way to work, he picked up the largest bottle of over the counter pain medication he could find, and stashed it where he hoped the twins wouldn’t find it.
maybe he knew it wasn’t healing right. when it still hurt after months, when a drugged-up andrew laughed at his occasional limping, when he got berated by his boss for leaning against the hostess booth at sweetie’s. he knew it even as wymack came to them with an offer nicky could never refuse.
maybe he put in more effort than he could really afford to and was still the worst on the team. he pushed himself until he had to switch to the bottom bunk because he couldn’t climb the ladder at night, until he started eating lunch in the hallways outside his lectures because he couldn’t walk to the cafeteria and back, until he was stealing enough of wymack’s pills that wymack started noticing. of course he’s too slow, nicky, make an effort! of course he’s a disappointment, i expected more from your high school tapes.
maybe he hoped abby would notice without him having to say anything, or maybe he hoped she wouldn’t notice at all. the thing is, he knew he’d done the wrong thing. he knew he shouldn’t have let it get to this. he knew he shouldn’t have kept it a secret, and now they’ve sunk their money on a backliner who can barely walk without a fistful of ibuprofen. he figured it was too late to do anything about it now, anyway, and said nothing.
maybe it doesn’t get better, it only gets worse. still, he manages to mostly hide it, gritting his teeth in a smile that is no more truthful than any other he sported. until he collapses mid-game, and none of the usual ways he’d force himself into standing would work. the game pauses and nicky feels more shame and fear than pain, even as it pulsates through his body. he’s carried off the court and to abby’s x-ray; the first one he gets, but not the first one he’s needed.
maybe she goes very still as she looks through the images. maybe when she finally looks up, she has tears in her eyes, and at that moment the dam that nicky has spent years trying to keep together with painkillers and gauze finally breaks.
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
