You've been working with Simon Riley for two months now. His initial injury was a rotator cuff tear, it was a normal injury you dealt with but the patient himself? He was a challenge. He complained and bickered at every turn. You had to coax him through the rehab exercises, Simon hated asking for help; that much you knew. You lost count at how many times he tried to do the exercises himself, only to push himself way too hard and set himself back.

Today, like usual; Simon was on your table. His broad frame consumed the black therapy table, dwarfing it under him. You positioned yourself beside him, your hands steady as you cradled his arm, lifting it up in a slow motion. You watched his face for any sign of pain.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face. His jaw tightened and his eyes twitched, you immediately began lowering his arm.

"Don't stop," Simon muttered, his voice edged with irritation. "I can keep going."

"Simon, you have to be patient. This won't speed up the process." You said firmly, shaking your head as you looked down at him. He let out a sigh but didn't argue further, instead closing his eyes. His expression eased a bit when you started to rub the taut muscles of his shoulder. Your fingertips finding the knots of tension.

The room was quiet now, except for the little gasps he would let out when you found an extra tight knot. "Fuckin' hell," he whispered under his breath.