Page 42 of Hold Me Down

Then again, what difference did it make if it was Monday or any other day?

Not like Dave had any place to be.

Getting downstairs did nothing to fix his mood, either, since Travis was already on his way out and they didn't have any time to talk aside from Travis making sure Dave had everything he could possibly need for the time being.

That check had become an everyday thing and was quite soothing, actually, but today it just irked Dave instead.

Which seemed like a repeat of how he'd felt right after the accident.

Like he'd been sliding, instead of moving forward.

It was also rather unfair towards Travis himself, but Dave couldn't help it. The same way he couldn't help how much his skin itched under the cast, he couldn't stop a different kind of itch under his skin.

He wanted out.

Out of this house, out of this cast, out of constantly feeling like he was stuck, and helpless, and needing help like he hadn't needed one since he was out of the damn diapers.

After spending a few hours watching things mindlessly, trying not to think of Travis at the office and of everyone having fun without him, Dave fell into a restless sleep, only to wake up in the same bad mood and with an empty stomach, to boot.

As he was reheating one of the burritos Ian had delivered yesterday, Dave's phone vibrated on the counter. He glanced atit to see a message from his brother, but he didn't swipe to read it. He didn't want to complain to Colin yet again or listen to another pep talk. He just wanted to wallow in his frustration until he pushed through it, somehow.

Usually, if Dave had a bad day, he could go for a run or to lift some weights until his arms threatened to give up on him, but he couldn't—

Well.

There was nothing preventing him from upper body strength training. He'd been doing it almost every day, after all, with Travis there on the other side of their gym room pretending he wasn't watching him like a hawk.

Dave clenched his hand over the edge of the counter.

He missed the days when Travis looked at him sweating it out because he wanted to fuck Dave and not because he wanted to save him from a piece of equipment falling on him or whatever.

He was probably not being fair towards Travis once again—the man still fucked him plenty, and it was actually Dave who had shut that door last night, literally and metaphorically—but he figured he didn't have to be fair every minute of every day.

He could be petty and mean every once in a while, inside his own damn head.

He could also go lift some weights while his keeper wasn't home.

Dave coulddefinitelyuse some breathing room as he sweated his way through the training.

Once he made it to their home gym after lunch and a little break, he sat down and stretched carefully, methodically, until the rhythm of the music he'd set up matched the energy that was pumping through his veins. He might have rushed through some of the stretches because of it, but he did complete the process.

After all, he didn't want another injury on top of the one he already had.

He started small, doing a few sets of lat pulldowns at his usual level, followed by shoulder press sets. Then, he moved to his main goal for today—the bench. He upped the weight settings, wanting to feel the burn, and lowered himself until he was lying on his back, his arms at the perfect angle for the handles.

That was when the realization hit him—there was no way for him to find his balance with only one foot securely on the floor.

Damn it.

Dave pushed himself back up to a sitting position and winced at the shot of pain in his leg. Absentmindedly massaging his knee right above the cast, he looked around the room in search for a solution to his problem until his gaze fell on a stock of bumper weight plates in the corner. If he put one large enough plate across his thighs, he would be kept still, and the leverage could offer him additional abs exercise.

It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was something, at least.

There was no way to bring the plate to the bench while having to balance himself on the crutch, though, so he finally managed it without a crutch by rolling the plate on the floor for the few steps it took to get it there.

By the time Dave lay down again, he was already tired and sweaty, but he wasn't going to give up now. Not even when he realized he forgot to lower the weight on the bar back to the usual, what with the additional weight across his thighs and everything.

Fuck.

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