LaurentLaurent's hatred for hospitals goes way back to the first time he's ever visited one.
To this day, the stench of disinfectant and the fluorescent lights bring back memories of their mom carrying a crying Larry through the hospital doors and yelling for help as she clutches a blood-stained cloth to the side of his torn-up face.
Even twenty years later, the memory is painful and the shock of seeing Larry so hurt is deeply instilled in his bones. Maybe that is why he tried to avoid going to the hospital for so long.
Ironically, this time around, it's Laurent who is bleeding and not Larry.
The hallway has just about as much personality as the rest oft he hospital. The floor is a stale grey and the ceiling is made of a grid-like frame of polystyrene squares. The light is bright enough to hurt his eyes after having driven through the barely lit-up darkness of the night and the second they step inside Laurent just wants to curl up into a ball and hide away from it all.
The nosebleed has thankfully stopped by the time they sit down in the waiting room, but the aftermath is almost worse than the bleeding itself and by the time the nurse leads them to the examination room, Laurent feels drowsy enough to rely on his brother for support. Larry notices the way his feet keep dragging and wraps an arm around his back to steer him through the hallway. Above every door is a plastic sign, beige with bold lettering, just bold and all-caps with no color and Laurent feels a new sense of dread stir in his stomach at the lifelessness of it all.
It's more than the usual discomfort that is attached to hospital visits.
It's a sense of foreboding.
Like something bad is about to happen.
He wonders if Larry feels it too.
The doctor that greets them is a balding man in his late fifties with a warm smile and a non-judgmental gaze and Laurent feels slightly better sitting down on the stretcher he's appointed to.
"And you've been having these symptoms for how long now?" the doctor asks patiently, shining a penlight into his eyes.
Laurent's eyes squeeze shut and his face scrunches up in pain at the brightness, but he bites back a noise of protest and follows the instructions given to him.
"Two weeks for the headaches," Larry offers up, hovering helplessly by the stretcher.
"Anything else except for the head?"
"He's not eating," Larry rushes to explain and Laurent shoots him a glare from the side. "He's tired all the time. And the headaches are getting worse."
"Larry," Laurent scolds softly, not wanting for his brother to blow things out of proportion. He turns a tired gaze onto the doctor and lets out a little sigh, feeling drained. "We've been working a lot. I may have skipped a meal or two."
Larry huffs but bites back his reply.
The doctor looks at them both and hums in acknowledgement before retreating to his seat behind the fancy wooden desk in the center of the office. He types something into his computer and then leans back in his chair to regard them both over the frame of his glasses.
"Your reflexes are fine, there's no pupil dilation or anything pointing toward an Aneurysm or stroke. But the symptoms you're describing could be a number of things, ranging from something small like stress or restlessness to something more serious."
"Like what?" Larry asks and there's a sliver of panic in his words that the doctor knows well to disregard.
"I'd like to run a few tests before we start speculating."
YOU ARE READING
Eternal
FanfictionThey've come into this world together, and they'll be damned before leaving it alone.