A week and a half later Jon was discharged from the hospital. He had only been home for a few minutes and he'd already regretted not taking the wheel chair and crutches the nurses insisted he take.
Why had he refused again?
Right, Jon would have to walk up the stairs anyway, and neither would help him in that situation.
Jon knew he could always just rest on the couch, but when he glanced over to it to debate, he found that Eduardo had already claimed one end of it.
Jon looked backed to the stairs debating on whether or not it would hurt that bad. He'd almost went with the stairs if he hadn't felt a sting of pain strike through him on the first step.
So with great reluctance Jon made his decision and cautiously walked to the couch.
He sat on the very edge on the opposite side in order to keep his distance from the ever angry American and quietly watched whatever it was the other was watching.
'The alien space cats...' Jon pondered. It probably would've been a great story if anyone could understand alien.
What was the point of universal TV again?

"Hey dumbshit, you're sitting on the remote."

Jon had been watching the alien movie intently and began to make up words to what he saw. He hadn't noticed Eduardo speaking to him until he was shoved off the couch.
Eduardo then took the remote without even sparing a glance down at him where he was on the ground, clutching his stomach.
He wasn't suppose to move much or rough house with stitches.
The fall had stretched his muscle and had him tense, making the skin feel pulled against every bind of stitch. He wanted to yell out, but knew it would only cause a scene.
So after calming himself down, Jon carefully stood up and limped to the stairs.
He slowly climbed each step with hesitation. Every movement made him ache.

When Jon finally reached the top of the stairs, he had to support himself against the wall to get to his room. There he limped to his bed and laid down on his back as gently as he could.
Once he achieved this, he sighed out and tried to ignore the burning of his abdomen.
The gash had been larger than he originally thought, starting from his left lower gastric region to his right upper thoracic, or so the doctor said.
He was told on many occasions that he was lucky. That wounds like his should have killed him, or should have at least disabled him. Yet he was alive and much better than the average person in his condition.

He looked around at his new room in the half condo they now lived in. Everything was bare.
Jon guessed it was because nothing had survived the explosion.
His violin was lost, Mark's books were gone and Eduardo's...
Jon's eyes widened in realization.
All of Eduardo's paintings were burnt aswell.
Of course the man would be upset over something so important to him.
Neither Mark nor Jon had ever been allowed in Eduardo's special room for his art. Though that didn't mean Jon had never snuck a peak inside.
Jon huffed, he'd have to do something to raise the man's spirits. Eduardo was his best friend and he hated to see him upset.