i have eight tabs open on acl reconstructions right now
in other news, writing remains the stupidest hobby
It was the week before the surgery, and someone was at the door.
“Stay,” Viktor told Makkachin as he unfolded out of a heel slide. The swelling had mostly gone, but he’d learned the hard way that the knee still had a tendency to buckle when she came unexpectedly underfoot.
It was Yakov. “I’m doing the pre-op exercises,” Viktor said, more irritably than he’d meant. “You don’t need to check up on me.”
Yakov snorted. “Have you packed?”
“Packed?” Viktor hadn’t. “What for?”
“Vitya,” Yakov said impatiently, like they’d had this conversation before. Possibly they had. “You can’t stay here by yourself while you recover.”