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Zoey adjusted her grip on the handles of her uncomfortable forearm crutches before she balanced on her working foot, awkwardly moved her crutches a pace ahead of her, and swung her body forward to meet the crutches, traveling a foot towards the elevator at a painfully slow pace. At this rate, she might get to the couch in an hour or so.
Mira and Rumi hovered around her like overprotective bees, ready to catch Zoey if she fell—or constantly reminding her that they could carry her if she wanted them too. But Zoey wanted to do this by herself. She’d ruptured her Achilles’ tendon, for goodness’ sake, and that meant she’d be on crutches for a long time, long enough to ruin their upcoming tour, so she needed the practice. Zoey cursed the demon that had distracted her long enough to get her foot caught in a pothole and made her leg twist agonisingly as she fell over and something tore in her ankle. Given the dangerous things she was trained to deal with, getting hurt in such a mundane way felt utterly pathetic.
By the time she finally reached the couch, sweat glistened on Zoey’s forehead, her arm muscles trembled from exertion (and it annoyed her, because she was strong—but the muscles needed to haul her around like this clearly weren’t toned enough), and the uncomfortably hard plastic handles of the crutches had dug grooves into her palms, the skin sore and inflamed like it might blister. Zoey sighed, going limp on the couch.
“This is the worst…” she muttered. But she did mumble a genuine thank you when Mira helped her prop her ankle up on a cute footstool and a pile of cushions. Her eyes stung, but she blinked rapidly to stop tears welling up. She didn’t want to cry again.
“Oh, Zoey…” Rumi said, easing herself onto the couch next to Zoey, being very careful not to jolt Zoey’s ankle. And Zoey appreciated the care, but at the same time… she hated being treated like a piece of brittle glass.
“Look, you’re not gonna be on the crutches forever,” Mira said, sitting down on Zoey’s other side.
Rumi nodded. “Yeah, you’ll be able to say goodbye to those horrible things in a couple months!”
Zoey knew they were trying to cheer her up. Normally, being the optimistic one was her job. But it was hard to stay positive when this injury had completely derailed their plans. “But you know what the doctor said. Even when it heals, it’ll probably never be the same again. It’s always gonna be weak, or-or hurt.” Her stomach clenched, eyes widening as something awful occurred to her. “What if I can’t dance anymore? O-Or go demon hunting?”
“Whoa there, take a deep breath, Zoey,” Rumi said, putting a hand on Zoey’s arm and rubbing the skin with her thumb. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“But we don’t know that,” Zoey whined.
Mira pressed a kiss to her cheek. “And you don’t know that everything’s gonna go wrong. None of us know how this’ll turn out. But we’ll deal with that stuff if it happens. Okay?”
Zoey wanted to argue. But she knew Mira was right. So, she sighed again and leaned her head on Mira’s shoulder. “Okay…”
She noticed Rumi and Mira exchange a look over her head, and then Rumi gave her a gentle nudge.
“Hey, Zoey…” she said, her tone soft and yet kind of… playful.
Confused, Zoey glanced at Rumi and the adorable but silly smile on her face. An expression that meant one thing: Rumi was gearing up to tell one of her awful jokes.
She sighed, thoroughly not in the mood. “What?”
“You know your ankle?”
Zoey wanted to snap about how she couldn’t forget it when it hurt so much, but she kept her mouth shut, aware Rumi was up to something and kind of curious. “What about my ankle?” Zoey said, flatly repeating the question back to Rumi.
“I guess you could call it your—”
“Don’t say it,” Mira muttered, clearly realising where this was going.
But Rumi just grinned even wider and said, “Achilles’ heel.”
Zoey glanced at Mira and they shared a loud, overdramatic groan, as though the stupid joke caused them physical pain. But Zoey couldn’t help the smile creeping onto her face, and Rumi beamed in delight.
“Look, you’re smiling!”
And she couldn’t deny that fact. Rumi’s silly joke had indeed made her smile for the first time since before she ended up on the ground screaming in agony and almost becoming demon food before her girlfriends swooped in to save her.
Momentarily distracted from the pain, Zoey hugged her girlfriends tighter, grinning.
---
Exhausted from the injury and the hospital trip and using these fucking crutches, Zoey wasn’t surprised to find herself dozing off on the couch. Less expected, however, was waking up to find her ugly hospital-issued crutches now distinctly bedazzled.
The plain, ugly metal had been decorated with paint and ribbons and stickers, now a gorgeous mix of bright blues and purples and pinks—almost exactly the colours she wore onstage on their last tour. And most importantly, those hard plastic handles had been wrapped in soft purple foam to cushion her aching hands.
She didn’t need to ask what had happened, already aware what her wonderful girlfriends had done, but the flecks of paint in Mira’s hair and on Rumi’s patterns confirmed the answer.
After yawning loudly, Zoey said, “Thanks, you two.”
“What for?” Rumi asked.
Zoey just smiled and pointed at her crutches.
“Oh, those? Nah, we didn’t do anything,” Mira said, her face utterly deadpan. “Pretty sure they’ve always looked like that.”
Zoey snorted. But she grabbed them both by the wrist and pulled, sending her girlfriends tumbling onto the couch either side of her. She wrapped her arms around Mira and Rumi, pulling them both into a group hug.
Perhaps her long recovery wouldn’t be so painful with these two by her side.