#x eds reader

It’s part of your daily life. Bruising easily and never quite remembering how it happens and only noticing when you’re about to shower or when one of the boys would gently hold a limb of yours with a furrowed brow, asking how you got that or if you’re okay. Each of them has their own unique way of responding. There were different mobility aids littered all around the house. The canes, rollators, types of braces for pretty much every part of your body added to the organised chaos of the home you shared.

You’d dislocated and broken many of your joints and had falls relating to them, general clumsiness, migraines throughout your life. Your body wasn’t always cooperative, especially not at times when it would be convenient and appreciated. But a dislocation or fracture was never really convenient, was it? 

It was a laundry afternoon so you’re folding up laundry in the bedroom and putting it away. You don’t do anything that defies gravity or is unusual in any way, you just take a step and like every other time it’s happened before to some joint or bone, it’s the wrong step, the wrong movement. There’s nothing different you could’ve done at all. 

“Fuck!” You curse and cry out as you feel your ankle dislocate and it makes you fall down onto the ground and cry out. 

It’s happened before and you knew it would happen again. But it still fucking hurt. It never made it hurt any less, no matter how many times it happens. 

Tears start to dampen your cheeks and you blink back tears while trying to bring yourself up to a sitting position and to move your leg but it just causes the pain to radiate more in your leg and you cry out again with another curse. 

Marc immediately heard the first curse and had already started to make his way over to the bedroom but when he heard the second curse he came over even quicker, completely set off and concerned. He sees you on the floor and immediately gets onto his knees at your side, holding your hand. “Hey, hey, are you okay?” His beautiful brown eyes widen and he watches your face closely, trying to pick up on any and every microexpression as he gently rubs your hand. 

“M-my an-ankle…” You let out a couple of sobs and bite your lip to stop anymore coming out as more tears roll down, you hate it and wish that wasn’t the case. 

“Your ankle? Just walking? Feeling like a dislocation or break?” He asks as he uses one hand to get his phone out of his pocket. 

You know where this is going already and you don’t like it. Not a bit. You’re grateful he cares, so fucking grateful for it. But you didn’t like going to hospitals and that was the last place you wanted to be right now. 

Past visits you’d been accused of attention and or drug seeking, been dismissed with a wave of a doctor’s hand and often some medical misogyny and other isms you weren’t in the mood for right now. You did not have enough capacity for that, just for the horrendous pain you’re in, that’s all you could really think about. You’re about to tell Marc that you can just try setting it yourself or he could help if he wanted to. 

“We can just set it-” You say and Marc just looks at you. His eyes widened in shock that you’d even suggest that as something you could and should do. You can see his jaw clench as his brain short circuits for a few seconds before his emergency training kicks back in. 

“No! Hospital now!” His dark eyebrows shoot up as he interrupts you before you can even finish that sentence. He says hospital even though you both know if he was in your shoes, he’d have tried setting it himself. He wouldn’t even have bothered to look up a Youtube video for help. 

“But-” You sharply suck in some air and squeeze your eyes shut tightly as the pain hits you more. 

“No buts, they need to do X-Rays and look at it.” He says with a somewhat bewildered expression on his face. 

The pain is miserable but you’re doing your best to try masking it. You can’t argue with him though and at least if you go to hospital they might give some decent medications to help with the pain at least. There was no arguing with Marc or really any of them, so you should nod as you grit your teeth. 

Marc helps you up and takes you to the hospital. As soon as you’re at the entrance of the hospital he helps you into a wheelchair and offers to do all the heavy lifting of signing in as you wait in the waiting room. You eagerly accept the offer, nodding frantically as the pain shoots up and you feel light headed. 

It was a Tuesday evening and these waiting rooms were always busy, you didn’t want to cause a scene. You already felt worried that if you spoke or even thought too much you’d open your mouth and wouldn’t be able to suppress a cry. It’s okay to lean on Marc, right now you try to remind yourself while taking a deep breath.

Everything moves slowly, just as it always does. You’re eventually triaged by a nurse who is sympathetic but after more waiting, the strongest medication you’re offered is advil. You groan not just because of the pain but also because of that and Marc puts a hand up to his face to roll his eyes, he takes a deep breath and counts to five, telling himself he won’t snap at the nurse who isn’t in a position of power here. 

Time continues to move slowly in the hospital. An X-ray is ordered and it doesn’t take long for them to tell you that you’ve dislocated your ankle, something that isn’t shocking news at all, especially to you. Marc advocates for you with every nurse and doctor, especially one of the junior doctors who rolled his eyes when you confirmed your previous EDS diagnosis and your history of fractures and dislocations. If you weren’t in so much pain and feeling so infuriated by the medical system you probably would’ve found this sight of Marc hot right now. 

You’re given anaesthesia and pain medications to help take you to some other realm while they set your ankle. You gasp and hold your breath as Marc holds your hand. Squeezing it, you’re not sure who is squeezing the other one harder, you’re feeling a bit out of it but you can tell he’s anxious. His palms are warm and clammy. 

Eventually, after what feels like forever. You’re discharged with a wrapped up ankle that looks more than sexy and a prescription of strong pain medication that Marc made sure you got and ran to pick up before taking you home. 

It’s been hours and you’re now out of the fluorescent light bug zone. Daylight is starting to break as the sky shifts to a paler blue and street lights are turned off. The world is starting to wake up again when you and Marc haven’t even had the chance to lie down and close your eyes. 

It’s a quiet ride home, you’re tired and can feel it in your bones but you can’t quite doze off yet. The discomfort won’t let you but it doesn’t stop you from yawning. 

When you finally get back to your sweet little home, Marc keeps his arms close to you, supporting you as you both make your way to bed. He helps you transfer into the bed, and he adjusts the pillows behind your back for you to be more comfortable and then moves to help keep your covered ankle elevated in bed. 

He then gently moves onto the other side of the bed, careful to not disrupt you or move the bed too much with his movement. Scratching his jaw with one hand as he lays down and looks at his phone, checking the time and then setting an alarm for a few hours when you’ll be able to take more pain medication. 

Neither of you have slept, you feel sore, uncomfortable, exhausted and as some early morning sunlight starts to peek through the edge of the curtains you can’t help but see the exhaustion etched into his face too. You reach a hand out to gently caress his cheek, feeling the five o’clock shadow and he closes his eyes and gently inhales at the feeling of your soft touch. He shifts in bed to lay on his side and face you. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him. You’re not sure if he’ll ever be able to understand how much you appreciate him, especially in times like this, you haven’t always had people in your corner for you to lean on or to help be another voice in the room to advocate for and stand with you. 

“Don’t, no. Just don’t ever think about setting something ever again.” He tiredly whispers as you keep caressing his face and it makes you smile a little. “Hmm, let’s try a nap before the next alarm goes off?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper with a smile and run your finger over his perfect lips and then tiredly watch him before the drowsiness of the medications kicks in and you have the most broken and shortest sleep you’ve ever had in your life. 

When you’ve finally drifted off, Marc blinks tiredly noticing the absence of your gentle hand and looks at your face for a moment. He feels grateful to have the most beautiful woman he knows as his partner, to have you in his bed and it warms him up at the fact that he can show up for you. That you let him, that you trust him to do that. 

It’s not something he’s used to and it feels easy with you, so easy and right. Something he can even see and appreciate while feeling so tired and having had a long night, only makes it more true he thinks. Marc smiles softly and leans closer to you as quietly and softly as possible, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before he lies back down at your side and drifts off.