Just Like Animals

№ 17

It took a while - a good, long while - for things to return to normal.

Ricky was in some sort of state of shock and Chris certainly didn't blame him. He knew he had overreacted. There was no way he could undo his actions though.

For about two weeks, Chris was a dotting caregiver to Ricky. He put all of his work on the back burner, he only left the house for short periods of time and only when absolutely necessary, he spent all of his time with Ricky. It was out of an abundance of caution that Chris had also replaced Ricky's collar around his neck. Due to his condition, Chris didn't expect him to bolt but it helped him sleep at night when he could hold onto the cool metal loops and know he was right there.

After sleeping on the couch, in the morning, whenever Ricky woke up, Chris would help him to sit up. He would make them both coffee, even if Ricky never drank it. He thought it was important to still give Ricky the option - a bit of normalcy that could be maintained through everything.

And after coffee, they would watch some morning television. Neither of them really watched though. Ricky just kind of stared off into the distance while Chris stared at him, watching for any little sign of consciousness returning.

At some point, Chris would make them oatmeal and spoon-feed Ricky as much as he would tolerate. He would often crush up pain medication and mix it into the mush, trying to make Ricky as comfortable as possible while he healed.

Ricky would doze for most of the day, sometimes waking up crying and shaking. Chris could only assume he was having nightmares.

Part of the day was always spent trying to engage Ricky. Chris would read to him or do little doodles for him, but it never had any effect on Ricky. He was in a constant dissociative state and Chris wasn't entirely sure what he could do to fix it.

When it got dark outside and Chris started to get tired, he would give Ricky a little dose of a sedative and lay him back down. They'd get cozy for the night, ready to start the whole thing over again the next day.

It was on the thirteenth day that Chris decided Ricky needed a bit more than the bare minimum. He just wanted to give him a bath, detangle his hair, and get him into some clean clothes - nothing too intense. He knew that being clean would help Ricky feel better physically and hopefully mentally too.

Chris carried Ricky to the bathroom, sitting him down on the closed toilet so he could undress him. Since Ricky was losing weight every day that he spent on his back, it was easy for Chris to manipulate his body and slip the clothes off his frail frame. It was when he was entirely naked and ready to be placed in the tub that Chris realized Ricky's collar was still on. He reached under his matted hair, feeling for the buckle when Ricky raised his hand, resting it on Chris' wrist.

It was quiet and shaky, but Ricky managed to utter a soft "no". Chris paused, mouth falling open. Out of all the things Ricky could've spoken up about, it was a protest against removing the collar he had so desperately wanted off.

"You want to keep it on? Yeah?" Chris tried to clarify. Ricky nodded slowly, lifting his eyes and tentatively scanning Chris' face. A feeling came over him and for just a moment, it was the night where the two shared their first real kiss. Just as before, Chris began to lean in, his lips longing to be on Ricky's again.  Fortunately, he was able to catch himself before doing anything that could possibly jeopardize the little progress they had made.

With a brisk throat clear, Chris pulled himself away, "Let's get you cleaned up then, okay?"

Ricky nodded again and even though Chris was fully prepared to carry him to the bathtub, he stood up on his own.  Of course he was shaky and a bit unsteady - he couldn't take a step without nearly collapsing.  But it was quite literally a step in the right direction.

"I got you," Chris assured, easily picking him up. He situated Ricky in the tub and started the water, letting it slowly rise. It became almost a meditative process for Chris: using a cup to pour water over Ricky's hair, carefully shampooing it, rinsing it out, conditioning, detangling, and gently scrubbing his skin with a washcloth.

Once in a while, if the comb caught on a knot or if his skin began to grow irritated, Ricky's eyes would quickly focus and jump to meet Chris', looking for reassurance. It really didn't take much because with just a few words soothing words of praise, Ricky would calm enough to look away and return to his dissociative state. 

After one last rinse, Chris looped his finger through the ring of Ricky's collar again, capturing his attention. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

Ricky nodded and lifted his shaking hands, allowing Chris to take hold. It was easy enough for Chris to carry all his weight while he took a few wobbly steps before being sat down on the toilet lid again. Chris dried him off, wrapping his hair in a towel and covering him with a robe.

"I'm going to get you some clothes," Chris told him, setting a hand on Ricky's cheek. He had already begun to step away when he felt Ricky grip his wrist, his nails biting into his skin.

Looking back, Chris saw his lips quivering and eyes tearing up. "No," Ricky stammered, still getting used to speaking again. Chris could tell just how much trouble he was having and if he had a heart, just the sound of Ricky's voice would surely break it.

"How about we go pick out your clothes together then?" He encouraged, this time receiving a nod. Ricky was still clinging to him with every ounce of his dwindling strength when Chris squatted down in front of him, trying to make eye contact.

"Are you feeling okay, Ricky?" He asked softly, desperately hoping for more than a few words in response. All he received was a timid nod, Ricky's eyes turning glassy as he lost touch with reality.

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