Blame The Monster [Antisepticeye Fanfiction]

1

His pale fingers wrap firmly around the handle of his mug, bringing the warm drink to his lips. He takes a slow, tentative sip, savoring the taste.

He splutters, coughing up the liquid and spilling the drink over the floor, the mug dropping to the linoleum and shattering upon impact. Shards scatter across the floor, but the broken mug is immediately forgotten as his hands shoot instead to his temples. One hand reaches out for the countertop as he staggers.

Stumbling through the spilled coffee and broken glass, the man makes his way to the bathroom in the hall. Wrenching open the medicine cabinet, he reaches for a prescription bottle, untwisting the cap and dumping two round pills into his hand.

Quickly filling the cup on the sink with water with shaky hands, he uses it to swallow the pills.

He stands there, holding the sink until the pain begins to slowly fade to a dull throb. His eyes drift down to his feet as it becomes ever apparent that he is standing in a pool of blood. He blinks a few times before registering that his feet were bleeding. He sighs, noting the trail of blood leading out of the bathroom and into the hall.

Tiptoeing to the bathtub, he takes a seat on the edge, rinsing his feet off under the faucet and using tweezers from the medicine cabinet to pick out pieces of glass from his soles.

Afterwards, he walks on sore feet back to the kitchen to clean up the broken mug and wasted coffee. Compared to the pain still lingering in his skull, the feeling of his feet hardly registered.

The pain coming from in his brain continued well into the next day, following him to his appointment.

"Please, I need something stronger, Doctor Fogleman. The migraine doesn't go away anymore, it just... lessens," the man pleads. The man across from him sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose. "There isn't anything stronger I can prescribe you, Seán. I can give you the number of a specialist. I think you should get an MRI."

"What?" Seán stutters out. "An MRI? Why?"

Doctor Fogleman glances away before letting out a second, longer sigh. "I can't say anything for certain, but it is possible that this... persistent migraine could be the cause of a much bigger issue. I don't mean to alarm you, Mr McLoughlin, but it is very possible it could be the work of a brain tumor." Seán feels as if the wind is knocked out of him.

Even after the appointment, behind the wheel of his car, Seán finds it very hard to absorb the doctor's words. The entirety of his drive home is in a maze of silence and disbelief.

Once he arrives home, his phone begins to ring. After inserting the key into his door and locking it behind him, he picks up. "Hey, Ma. Good to hear from you," he greets her warmly.

He can hear the worry in her voice. "Hi, Jack. How are the migraines? Still bothering you?" Seán sighs away from the reciever before putting the phone back to his ear. "Yeah. The meds have really been helping," he lies. "How's everything with you? Everything good with Da?" There is a long beat of silence.

"Seán, your father passed away two years ago. Are you alright?" His mother asks. Seán swallows thickly. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I guess I just... forgot for a minute there."

"Jack, maybe you should come home for a little while. Take a break from work," his mother suggests worriedly. Seán clears his throat. "I actually gotta go, Ma. Call you again soon, though. I love you," he tells her abruptly. "I love you too, Jack, but-" his pale finger slams down on the end call button.

Wiping a hand over his weary face, he stares off into space. What was wrong with him?