Getting upstairs was a struggle with how stiff and uncooperative his legs were being. There was the option of staying on the couch for a while, but that thing needed to be replaced years ago, and like TJ told those guys last night, he didn't want to ruin his back. Instead, with the help of his dad, he made it to his bedroom.

His mother brought him a ice pack and told him to get to sleep right away. The doctor said he had a pretty bad concussion and needed to rest. And of course he would, as soon as he got a better look at himself. He looked in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door to see everything.

They put him in a rib brace, and a black and blue bruise seeped from underneath. Two stitches on his right upper arm, three on his left, and both with bruises ending in the middle of his forearms. The left side of his face was covered in a swollen bruise, from the edge of his ear they stitched up to his broken nose.

The worst of it all, though, was half his fingers being strapped onto splits. He couldn't do anything with two thumbs, one index, one ring, and a pinky finger.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He struggled to get it out with limited use of his hands, but managed. A text from Mikey, of course.

Mikey: Are you okay?

It took forever to reply, and afterwards, he left it on his desk. Those five would be making a stop here later, no doubt.

. . .

He still had a free thumb and index finger on one hand. He could at least pinch some of the bruises for the time being.

Speaking of time, he was time to take a nap. He could feel a headache coming on. Probably that concussion. . .

ZZZ

His parents were happy to see the five of them. In their own words, 'it's been too long since we've seen you kids around here'. They each had something to say about that, all things considered, but they bit their tongues and asked to see TJ. They let them in with a warning that he was asleep the last time they checked on him.

Based on what Mikey said, they were expecting a horror show. That was a pretty accurate description. While TJ was under the covers, just seeing his face gave them enough of an idea what was underneath.

Spinelli raised a fist, but the only reason it didn't land square in his face was Vince grabbing her wrist.

"I dunno why you're stopping me," she mumbled. "He'd probably like it. . ."

To be fair, none of them could say they didn't want to knock some sense into him in the literal sense. Vince might've let her punch him if his nose wasn't broken. And his ear wasn't stitched to his head, Jesus Christ what the fuck.

Instead of that route, Mikey nudged his shoulder. It only took one nudge for TJ to wince in pain and wake up to the sight of them standing in his room.

"Fuck, what? What's going on?" He asked. "Is school out already? I slept longer than I thought. . ."

"So, um, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I feel like shit," TJ said. He slowly moved his arms around under the blankets. "Kinda great."

"'Kinda great' he says," Spinelli scoffed.

Rather than having this conversation laying down, TJ moved to sit up, though his ribs and arms made it difficult. The blanket slid down, and with the oversize button up his parent brought him home in still undone, they had a view of the fuller extent of his injuries.

". . Yeah, I'm letting you all handle this because if I do I'm going to punch him into another language," Spinelli said. She turned and left the room, and Vince followed after.

"Can I at least pick the language?" He said under his breath. ". . . .Anyways, thanks, Mikey. For calling 911 last night."

"Oh. Yeah, no problem," said Mikey. "I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'll be okay next year," TJ said. "Quick question, though. Did you tell my parents anything?"

"No, I didn't. I promised I wouldn't last night," he said.

"Alright, good. Good."

"How bad are your injuries?" Gretchen asked. The three of them found a seat, with her at his desk chair and Mikey and Gus on the floor. "Your bruises look severe, and I can see you're wearing a rib brace."

"I won't be going to school until after winter break, that's how bad," he said, plainly.

"Do you want us to bring your homework?" Gus asked. TJ would've shrugged if he had the energy.

"If you want. But it's not like I'll be able to do much of it." He held up his hands. "I'm out of commission, until after winter break, probably."

"Speaking of winter break, since Spinelli's not here to say it, we're supposed to pack for a week when we go to her cousin's cabin."

"She still thinks I'm going, that's funny. I'm not," he said. "And now I have a medical reason not to."

"Why the fuck are you so against us helping you?" The four of them turned to the door, where Spinelli returned, with Vince right behind. "How do you expect us to react when we see you like this? I really, really want to know, TJ."

"I didn't ask you for help," he snapped. "I never asked you for help!"

"You asked me," Mikey said. "You asked me last night."

". . .Yeah. I asked Mikey," said TJ. "I asked him because that's when I needed it. I know my limits-"

"Did you know them last night when he found you outside his house looking like you've been dragged to hell and back?!"

"What do you want me to say, Spinelli? That I fucked up? Fine, I fucked up and went way past my boundaries last night. Are you happy, now?" Easily loosing his breath, TJ wrapped his arms around his abdomen as taking a breath became uncomfortably painful. "I'm alive aren't I? I didn't die."

"TJ, can you at least listen to what I have to say?" Mikey spoke up. "You scared me last night. You were already bleeding a lot when I came up to you, but when you passed out, I couldn't wake you up again. And part of your face was turning blue. Now I know that was because it was of the bruising, but then, I thought it was because you weren't breathing. And maybe you were dying. I know you've told us multiple times that you're in control of this, but can you understand that it didn't look like it to me last night?"

. . .

They were looking at him, waiting for an answer. TJ looked down at his splinted fingers, unwilling to look at any of them. All this going back and forth, he was started to feel the beginnings of a headache because of it.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I made you worry, Mikey," he said. "It wasn't supposed to get that bad, and it never did before. I just overindulged this one time. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay?! Mikey-"

"Spinelli, please," Mikey sighed. "Right now, yelling isn't going to do anybody any good."

"Fine. Whatever," she huffed. "This isn't over."

"I didn't think that for a second," TJ said, rolling his eyes. "I'm gonna have to ask you guys to leave. I have a concussion and a headache and I really should be getting back to sleep."

After that conversation, they all needed some time to think. They left his room, and TJ finally got some peace and quiet. He was still too tired to mess around with his bruises, but later. there was always later.