Work Text:
Taylor’s legs are on fire, even more than usual. Not literally - that wouldn’t hurt as much. He falls to the ground as soon as he tries to stand up. His knees don’t hold him, they buckle, they’re weak. Useless. Just like him on days like today. He mentally goes back through all the Animes he’s seen in his life, attempting to remember a character with chronic pain. He knows he won’t.
He knows that this isn’t normal. Not even Normal, who is - affectionately - the least normal person he knows, doesn’t struggle with this. What he also knows is that when his legs act up this badly he’s not supposed to push himself. Taylor doesn’t care. His cane is cool. He’s confident about it - it has a fucking sword inside - that’s cool as hell. But right now, his cane isn’t enough.
He glances at the wheelchair in the corner of his room. He should use it, it would be the logical choice. Too bad that sometimes he is too stubborn about how he appears, to care how he feels. He pulls himself up and sits back down on his bed with a groan. His mother isn’t home. If she was, she’d stop him from this stupid decision. She’d probably keep him home entirely. In his opinion, she cares too much.
Taylor tries to stand again and steadies himself on his feet. A burning pain rips through his legs, as he hunches over. For a split second he rethinks his plan - but ultimately his tenacity gets the better of him. He doesn’t get dressed, instead keeping on the clothes he fell asleep wearing the day before. He skips breakfast and brushing his teeth, sacrificing his basic routine to keep his already murderous pain in check, and focus on somehow getting to school. He eventually manages to tow himself out of the house.
Once he arrives, he is half an hour late to class and his knees are scraped from the several times kissing concrete flooring. His phone has been blown up with messages from his partners - ranging from scary asking if he skipped without her - to Normal sending a whole paragraph powered by worry.
As he checks in at the office, the secretary not only gives him a look of concern, but also asks if he’s feeling okay. Taylor dismisses the question with a wave of his hand - and after deep breath, gradually makes his way to his first class. He hopes his fellow students won’t look at him too closely. There’s nothing he wants less right now than to be seen.
Discomfort arises within his chest. He never feels as anxious, as negative, as he does when this gets bad. He’s usually a positive person. Confident, cheery, every word in the book. But during times like this he can’t help but hate himself. His body for its issues, and his brain for his ignorance toward his own needs.
He steadies himself a final time, before turning the knob and pushing the door open. A split second later he finds himself on the dirty linoleum floor. Misinterpreting his force, he put to much swing into his action and his core lost its strength. So now he’s lying there, face down, in front of everyone. Great. Admittedly, the cold of the floor against his aching legs is comforting. He feels like a moron.
Taylor manages to lift himself up, just enough to make out four silhouettes coming towards him. His glasses are no longer on his face, but by the heavy thud of Scarys platform boots, the nervousness in Normals voice as he mutters out sentences Taylor can’t comprehend, and Lincs tall frame, he can tell it’s his partners coming for him.
The three of them are incredibly observant, he realizes, alongside the fact that his fate is sealed. They’ve seen him during flare ups before. They’ll notice how dead tired he looks, how his legs tremble, how he rubs his knees every minute in hopes of relief. There’ll be an intervention. He knows he’ll have to concede.
The fourth person puts their hand out for him to grab, and as he gets pulled up he realizes it’s his math teacher. His balance is practically nonexistent, and he almost reaches the ground again. Everyone, including his classmates, is asking him questions and expressing alarm - but he can’t hear anything past the pain induced ringing in his ears.
Suddenly his girlfriend, and one of his boyfriends - Normal, he quickly realizes - slump his arms over one of their shoulders each, and support his shaking body. His eyes are still closed when he feels the metal frames of his glasses be placed on his nose. They flutter open and are met with a soft smile from Linc. The next minute stretches to what feels like hours, as he’s dragged to the closest chair.
As the ringing in his ears starts to fade he hears his partners speaking. Their voices are soothing all on their own but it doesn’t take long for him to realizes they are actively advocating for him, begging (or threatening - in Scary‘s case) for the school nurse to come to their classroom instead of Taylor having to make his way over - and for someone to call his mother.
A pit opens up in his stomach. He know his mother won’t be mad at him - but she’ll be so dissapointed. He loves his mom, so much, and there’s is nothing he hates more than that. The image in his mind is vivid. A collection of memories, all the times he pushed himself to far and the both of them had to carry the consequences together. Sitting on the couch at home, Taylor trying to suppress his tears as his mothers own roll down her cheeks. Her pressing an ice pack against his knee, and scolding him - her voice entirely without venom - for ignoring his body’s warning signs. He hopes they won’t be able to reach her.
They do. The waiting period is grueling, his heart beating out of his chest as the nurse puts his legs up on another chair - which doesn’t have a cushion. Normally he'd complain - but discomfort was the least of his problems right now. His partners are sitting beside him, frantically questioning, comforting and lecturing him.
His mom cut short her grocery trip, and it didn’t take long for her to stand in front of him with his wheelchair. The stern look on her face hides a layer of care. After explaining that she will be taking him home now, none of Taylor’s arguments convincing her to change her mind - Normal calls for a Teen Huddle - without him. „You too Taylor’s Mom!“
After a short period of discussion, Linc hugs him from behind. „Were coming home with you, if you’ll have us?“ The annoyance at not being included quickly turns into appreciation and he nods. Scary, Normal, and Linc are skipping school for him. He reluctantly transfers into his wheelchair, and pushes himself all the way to the car on the school’s parking lot. As the four of them huddle up in the back, Scary speaks up. „How about a mid-day movie night?“
Linc lets out a hum of agreement, and the others follow after him. „Can we watch Garfield? A Tail of Two Kitties?“ Normal grabs Lincs hand, and shakes his head. „Taylor should choose something.“ Taylor smirks. „Were watching The End of Evangelion.“