At his core, Dennis Whitaker is a farmer.
That kind of thing comes with bad habits. Itâs a common stereotype that farmers will refuse to come into the hospital or admit that theyâre in any sort of pain or injured in the first place.
Dennis is not an exception to that.
So, when a split piece of wood under the sink, around five inches in length and two inches in width, lodges itself in the middle of his palm, Dennis takes a moment to close his eyes and simply breathe through his nose.
He focuses on the pain radiating from his hand and pushes it down. Itâs not the first time heâs accidentally hurt his hand, and with his clumsiness, it would certainly not be the last.
The only difference was that he now had the resources to take care of it himself. Before, sleeping on the streets, it was always a toss-up to see if itâd get infected. He was lucky. And even before that, his father would rub dirt on the wound and tell him to shut up.
Dennis got very good at not crying very young.
Trinityâs not home. Out on a date or at work, or something, he wasnât really listening to her late-night rambling. He just wanted to go to sleep early so he could enjoy his day off.
Dennis grunts as he breaks off the splint of wood from the rest of the cabinet, contemplating suing the whole fucking building so he and Trin could be rich, before making his way over to the bathroom to raid their small first aid kit.
Maybe Trinity would find this funny? His brothers found it hilarious whenever he got hurt, and Trinity was kinda his big sister in a way. Heâs never really interacted with girls, but Trinity punched him in the arm and told him not to treat him any differently than he would treat guys, soâŠ
He canât really tell if what heâs doing is a good idea; the pain makes it a little distracting to think, but he takes a picture and sends it to Trinity.
Huckleberry: I know you said there were splinters under the sink, but damn
Huckleberry: Didnât think they were that bad lol, letâs sue and get bank
He tosses his phone onto the bathroom counter, ignoring the clatter as it most likely falls into the sink, and opens the mirror cabinet. âYay, bandages.â He cheers, only slightly dizzy from the pain and blood loss.
He takes a moment, awkwardly sitting on the closed toilet seat, sucks in a deep breath, and yanks out the piece of wood all in one go.
And, holy shit, thereâs a fucking hole in his hand that he can see through. Itâs small, and the chances of it closing up are great, but itâs still morbidly fascinating.
Dennis keeps his eyes on his hand as he feels around the counter with his other, grasping his phone, and once again making the stupid decision to take a photo and send it to Trinity.
Huckleberry: Lol, you can see your ugly rug through my hand
Huckleberry: Gonna wrap my hand and take a nap, Iâll clean up later
Huckleberry: Iâm soo tired lol
Heâs 100% sure heâs dribbled blood across the apartment from the kitchen, but the loss of blood was making him really tired, and his ability to care had long since faded. He probably misspelled most of what he texted.
It was a shoddy wrap job; he wasnât using his dominant hand after all, but the wound was no longer bleeding everywhere.
Dennis tilted his head, mentally deciding whether or not he wanted to be a wimp and take a handful of pain meds. The dulled pain would make it easier to sleep, and he probably wouldnât have too bad a headache when he woke up.
Dennis decides to ignore his fatherâs voice in his head and pop two aspirins before taking a third just for the hell of it.
Heâll think about stitching his hand closed later in hopes to avoid anymore scarring on him. Itâs not the end of life.
He takes a moment to breathe before lifting off the toilet seat, letting out a sharp gasp as he wobbles and his vision swam. Nothing a nap wouldnât fix. Tottering his way to Trinityâs spare room was easy; he could do it with his eyes closed at this point.
Dennis throws his phone onto his pillow as he flops down and immediately falls into a deep, dreamless sleep, the rhythmic pulse of his hand fading into the background as he basically passes out.
He faintly realizes he shouldâve at least washed the wound before wrapping it up, practice some safe methods, but then again, he had rubbed literal dirt in most of his wounds since childhood. If forgetting to wash this one little thing took him out, then he deserved to die.
Dennis is startled awake by pounding on his bedroom door and his phone vibrating itself to death on his pillow. He doesnât even get a second more to think before his door is forcibly swung open and his best friend and boyfriend are rushing him.
âWhitaker!â Dennis blinked slowly, looking up to see his boyfriend standing over him with a panicked expression heâs never seen before.
Trinity looked no better.
âWhat?â He coughs out, his voice scratchy and his throat sore. The room spins a little as he lifts his head and- yup, he probably has a fever. Dennis groans softly and flops back down, intent on riding out his sickness with more sleep.
âOh no, you fucking donât.â Trinity hissed, patting him harshly on the cheek and forcing him to keep his eyes open.
âDo you understand how worried everyone was when you sent those pictures to the work chat?â Robby said softly, sitting down on his bed and grabbing his hand gently, frowning at the small wince Dennis let out. âIt was very concerning.â
Dennis blinked slowly. âWorkâŠ?â
âYeah, thatâs right. You tried to send it to me, but you sent it to the morning shift group chat.â Trinity gripped, rummaging through her bag, hastily strewn on her shoulder, and pulling out a bottle of water. âThought you fucking died when you didnât answer anyoneâs texts. Everyone is freaking the fuck out.â
Dennis blinked again, the light from the hallways shining in his room and exacerbating his pounding headache. And his pounding headache only seemed to make his hand hurt more.
He shakily took the pre-opened bottle from Trinity in his unoccupied hand and gulped it down, only stopping when Trinity pulled it away from him. âYouâre gonna throw up at the rate youâre going.â
âTender, increased redness, and your hand seems to be swelling,â Robby muttered, going full doctor mode. âYouâve got incoming signs of infection.â
âAre you an idiot? A wound of that size definitely needs to be treated.â Trinity cussed, covering her eyes with her hands and walking away before immediately walking back. âAlright, letâs get you to the ER, doofus.â
Robby nodded along. âYeah, we definitely need to get you on some antibiotics. We also need to see if youâve damaged any nerves. Did you take any medicine?â
Dennis slowly processed the words coming at him, taking a moment to digest their concern for him. âIâve had worse⊠I took some, uh, aspirin...â he muttered softly, unsure of what to do with the warm feeling inside his chest. Maybe it was another sign of infection.
âDoesnât matter, baby.â Robby frowned. âWeâll talk about the âworseâ that youâve been through, but we need to get you back to the Pitt.â
Dennis struggled momentarily as his boyfriend tried to pick him up, shaking his head. "Don't... you'll hurt yourself..." he joked, making Trinity snort as she went to support his left side.
"Brat," Robby murmured fondly, taking Dennis's right and helping him wobble out of bed, taking the brunt of the other man's weight.
"If you've still got time for jokes, I think you'll make it," Trinity says softly, grabbing a hoodie from nearby, Robby's, just in case he got cold in the ER.
Dennis hums, clumsily moving his feet in a failed attempt at helping them move him, but really just causing more trouble. "Sorry," he apologizes because it seems like the best thing to do in this scenario. "Didn't mean... to bother you all."
"You're not bothering us, stupid." Trinity snapped. "In fact, you dying in my fucking apartment would be a lot more of a bother than you having to go to the ER."
Dennis hummed, his head drooping from exhaustion. Despite the deep sleep he was just in, he felt like he hadn't rested at all, and the fever combined with a pounding headache was really starting to take its toll on him.
"Just leave it to us, love, we'll take care of you," Robby promised, making Dennis smile at the two closest people in his life, before letting his eyes flutter shut while they moved him.
He had a feeling he wouldn't get much rest when they made it to the ER. Whoops.
