Mello
I hated this guy so much. He was reading a magazine, totally oblivious of the fact that I was trying to support my weight on parallel bars, my arms aching after half an hour of trying to put one foot in front of the other. I was so hot I could feel droplets roll down my back, and I just wasn't anywhere near walking, not even a single step. Standing up, I could manage, but I couldn't keep my balance when I tried to move because I didn't have the muscles to support myself.

Not being able to support my weight on my legs yet, my arms were my only way not to fall, and he just didn't care, chewing his gum loudly. Fuck you, bastard.
I was sure that there was something else for me to do, but my physio was apparently a cunt, and I didn't even have Mail here with me to comfort me, he had deposited me at the hospital, making sure I was in that room before he left to take his mother grocery shopping, and I had been stupid enough to tell him it was okay and he could leave me on my own.

At first I hadn't wanted him to stay because I didn't want him to see me fail miserably at walking, but now... I wanted all at once to cry from the rage building inside of me and to slap my physio.
"Is that all I'll be doing?" I spat after reaching the end of the bars, unable to take it anymore.
"You need to strengthen your legs." No shit.
"Then why is it only my arms working?" I swear, once I could use my legs he would get the strongest kick in the ass I could provide, "I need a rest."
The guy sighed, throwing his magazine on the nearby chair, and stood up to help me sit on my wheelchair.
"You're not supposed to use your arms."
"I'm supposed to crawl then?"
Seriously, 100% cunt.

The bastard sighed again, and pushed me to another corner of the big room, to a weight machine. He basically let me slide by myself off my wheelchair to the seat, barely adjusted the weights to the minimum, and placed my legs when I told him I had no idea how it worked. And sighed again. That guy loved his job obviously.
But at least, this seemed a lot more helpful, since I could train my leg muscles.
"How long?" I asked, since it was probably hurting his mouth to give proper instructions by himself.
"Until it hurts." He was back to his magazine and didn't even look at me.

It already hurts, fucktard.
For a short moment I told myself that I would report this to Dr Martelli, but I felt like a whiny bitch so I decided to keep it for myself. No need to alarm Mail either, it was just a matter of time anyway, soon I wouldn't need to come here anymore after all.
When it became too painful, I simply stopped and waited, since the guy didn't care, and I was too tired anyway.
Mail knocked at the door fifteen minutes later, freeing me from physio hell.

Once I was sitting in the car, I took some Advil.
"Are you okay sweetie?" Mail's mother asked me from the backseat, "You don't look well."
"I'm just tired." I smiled. The last thing I wanted was for her to worry for me, I had given her too much trouble already.
Mail didn't say a word but I could see him frown.
We drove to his parents' apartment.

He had moved his stuff in my studio this morning, after we had spent the night at his parents', right after we had announced them the big news.
He helped his mother bring the groceries upstairs, and came back to his car, where I was waiting. It was a weird feeling to tell myself that we were driving home. Our home. Him and me.

To our surprise, there was no electricity in my... our apartment, when we arrived. Mail checked the fridge, which was still cold, so it hadn't been cut long ago.
"I guess it's just a local cut." I said, not thinking much of it. It wasn't a big deal anyway, there was nothing that could be spoiled in the fridge, we just had drinks in there.
"Do you want me to check with the neighbours?" Mail asked, already walking to the door.
"Nah, don't worry, it will be back soon I guess, let's unpack your stuff in the meanwhile."

We put some order in Mail's things, it didn't take long since except his clothes, an old computer and a few games he had been given by the prosecutor during his lock-up, there wasn't much in the cardboard that had contained it all.
Then we proceeded to reinstall my SIM card in the phone Mail had gotten me while he was shopping with his mother. I had asked him for the same I had before, that was crushed in the accident – the SIM card fortunately being okay – but my credit card apparently didn't work in the store so he had bought a 1$ one so I could at least have one anyway.

The thing started to beep like crazy as soon as everything was set up.
"Whoa!" Mail laughed at the umpteenth missed calls showing on the screen, handing out the device to me.
I listened to every single one of the voice messages, and Mail knew immediately that something was wrong in front of my crestfallen expression.
I hung out when I was done.
"It seems I'm poor now..." I said flatly. It was true. The only reason I still had my apartment was because my parents had bought it under my name, but since they had been arrested, their bank accounts had been put on ice, and the allowance I got from them for my stay here had been cut.

Not that I wanted money from them anyway, after all that had happened, but I hadn't even thought about that until now, too deeply caught in the rest.
No wonder why we didn't have electricity.

Mail seemed to think for a moment, and we left the apartment again.
First, we had to retrieve my bank statements from the last seven months to have a better look at my situation, then we made a crochet to the electricity provider's office, and Mail used the last of his cash to have the account restarted for a month.

Back in the flat, we went through all my statements, all the mail that had been awaiting in my letterbox, and the situation wasn't pretty.
My father had apparently continued to send my allowance but he was arrested one week before the next instalment, so while all the bills and everything that was withdrawn from my account had been paid last month, bills had started to fall this month, and as of today the 8th, they were being denied by my bank since my account was empty.
My cell phone bill had made it, as well as my DSL line, but the electricity had not.

Mail neatly wrote it all on a sheet, noting down the bills one by one and checking what we could give up.
Nothing unfortunately, I wasn't the type to have a lot of subscriptions and stuff, so except getting rid of the internet, there was nothing we could save on.

Matt
"Okay, electricity's good, DSL will be cut soon if it's not paid so it will be solved by itself, and the flat is safe too. We have to keep our phones though, because it would be quite complicated without." I stated. We could always go back to my parents' as a drop point, but to be honest, now that my father was proud of me to be able to take charge of my family, even if my family was only Mihael and me right now, I just couldn't resolve myself to do that. I'd sort this out by myself. "I can hack some wifi anyway, so that's okay."
"I hope you have a way to hack food as well because we will need that a bit more than an internet connection." Mihael tried to make some humour, but I could see he was really worried.
" And there's water to pay also." Fuck, I hadn't noted that.
We had to find 90$ for next month already, and that didn't even count food and the insurance and gas for my car which amounted to a rough 200$ more. It didn't seem that much, but no money was no money, and I kept the idea of selling my car in the back of my mind in case we didn't make it.

"Listen, it will be fine. We're more than halfway into the second semester, and we're not likely to go back to uni anytime soon, this year is fucked anyway. I'm not even sure I want to go back, to be honest. I'll find a job, that's what I was planning to do anyway, and all will be fine." I smiled, trying to reassure him, "And there's a whole stack of cup noodles in your cupboards anyway."
"Talk about a cliché." Mihael chuckled.
It killed me that I had no idea if I would be able to support him financially, but I didn't want to show it.
We were lucky to have the university's health insurance running at least until august, since we had subscribed for this year before the accident, even if we hadn't attended. With Mihael's injuries we would have been fucked beyond belief without that.

The buzz of the fridge suddenly resounded, telling us that the electricity was back.
"At least I can try to find some wifi and then check for some job ads." I kissed Mihael's hair as I stood up to bring my old computer on the table.
"Take my laptop." Mihael told me, gesturing to the red device on the coffee table, "Use it while it's here, I might sell it if we need to."
As I was sitting back, opening the screen, Mihael looked at me.
"Don't tell your parents, okay?"
"I didn't plan to." I pressed my palm on his hand.

It was a lot faster with his machine than mine, obviously, and it didn't threaten to freeze every second, at least.
I tried the most serious employment websites, but without real qualifications, there wasn't much I could do.
After checking Craigslist as well, I had to face the fact that except being a slave for a woman with dominatrix tendencies or selling my underwear to creepers, I wouldn't find anything. I could repair stuff, but I couldn't say I had a valid record of my experience, and without a real CV they wouldn't hire me. There was an ad for a clerk position in a gaming store, but same thing, as much as I loved games, I had never been able to afford them so I didn't know much besides basics.
Fuck.

I made some coffee (at least, we had coffee, yay...) and I was halfway to filling my cup when I had an idea.
"I could be a waiter, maybe, I might have zero experience but I guess it's something I can learn."
"It takes a bit of skills but nothing you can't manage." Mihael took my hand, smiling softly, and I loved the way he made me feel capable. I had seen him when he worked at the disco, it took some skills indeed, and although I wasn't sure I wasn't too clumsy for that, at least I might have a chance, even if I had to work in the creepiest bar in town.
But I knew that something was bothering Mihael, it was written all over his face.
"Hey, we're gonna make it, don't worry, we'll be fine."
"I know... I just wish I could search for a job myself, but who's gonna hire me with such a face? I will be able to walk soon, so that's just a matter of time for that, but my face..."
I didn't know what to reply to that. I didn't care for his scar, but I had seen the look of people at this sight, and as little as I liked to admit it, I understood that it wouldn't be easy for him.

I spent a long moment calling all the bars and clubs from the yellow pages, with no success. No experience, no job. Fuck fuck fuck.
I was starting to think it wouldn't be as easy as I thought, the "find a job, solve problem" case was much more out of reach than I had tricked myself to believe.

Smoking at the window, I savoured my cigarette because it was the last one. This too had to be cut off. Well, I guess it was a good thing anyway.
Suddenly, I knew who to call for help that didn't involve my family.