#usual spiel about length yadda yadda

[hiracths]

— REGGIE + ROMAN, Aluma Lake’s physical therapy office. / @lcvesnvrlcst.

If anyone’s asking Reggie what he dislikes the most about living at home, his answer is easily the lack of independence. Going from country to country at the drop of a hat to shackled in the small, tourist town he spent his teens in is hard enough, never mind the fact that he feels as though he can’t do anything without his parents’ approval first. In truth, he just finds it to be a bit humiliating — asking permission for his every move like he’s a little kid again, getting carted around town and dropped off at appointment after appointment like it’s his first day of school. Half the time he has to physically stop himself from turning around with an overly dramatic wave once he gets out of the car with his crutches, just for the bit.   He knows, objectively, that it’s not their fault though — they’re just looking out for him however they know how, and they’ve got way too much damn time on their hands to do so — but still, he would appreciate if they stop looking so forlorn when he tells them he’s fine to wait in the lobby by himself. As much as they may believe he’s mentally regressed in the terrible year he’s had, he’s still decidedly not a child. He doesn’t need to be babied.  Besides, it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the physical therapist’s office by any means. With how often he’s been, they’re practically his best friends.   His point’s all but proven as he’s greeted by name when he makes his way to the receptionist’s desk, and he responds in kind with a friendly smile. The interaction’s short and pleasant as he checks in, and he’s told to find a seat before the doctor’s ready for him. He turns around to find a jam-packed lobby, and from here he’s got a choice: he can sit beside a couple on the couch clearly having a hushed argument of sorts underneath their breath, or he can sit on the complete opposite side of them beside—  Roman. He’s paralyzed for a moment in indecision, both options completely undesirable to him for a multitude of reasons, but as someone else says ‘excuse me’ and brushes past to pick their own poison, the choice is taken from him and the seat beside his brother’s old bandmate is the only one left. Great, he thinks to himself — or maybe he’s said it out loud? He can feel the other’s eyes on him regardless as he lowers into the uncomfortably cushioned chair and sucks a breath in through his teeth when his leg feels uncomfortably stiff.