I'm Just Septic-Eyed

Chapter 17: The Drunk Irishman

A/N: Warning: this chapter is longer than usual ones. And it deals a bit with alcohol abuse.

Mark hurried down the sidewalk. He felt a strange need to get far away from that restaurant and the waitress. Sean was out of class already and Mark told him to stay in the room until he got there. Anything to keep Sean safe at this point. He would admit that he was a bit paranoid since the whole incident that sent Sean and Cry to the hospital. So you would not believe Mark's terror when he found out Sean wasn't in the classroom. But that quickly changed to confusion when the professor said that class ended nearly an hour ago. Why would Sean say that it barely ended, then? Mark ran home without hesitation. He opened the door and nearly walked back out at the smell.

Mark closed the door behind him begrudgingly. It smelled like alcohol was soaking through the carpet. When he heard a familiar sound of Sean vomiting, Mark switched from being disgusted into being angry. He began walking to the bathroom, seeing the kitchen on the way. There were empty beer bottles scattered along the table. Chica sat staring at the closed bathroom door. Mark turned the handle, but found it locked. That caused him to get angrier. He pounded on the door. "Sean William McLoughlin, you open this fucking door right now or I swear to God I'll kick your ass."

"Stay," Mark snapped at Chica when he heard Sean move around. Chica obeyed as the door opened. Sean stood behind it, looking worn-down. That didn't make Mark sympathetic in any way. He pushed the door open, nearly knocking Sean over, and then closed it behind him. There was a beer bottle in here with him. All the self restraint that Mark had shattered in that instant. "What the fuck, Sean?! You fucking lie to me and then drink God knows how many bottles? What the fuck were you even thinking? I was joking about the drinking problem, y'know. I-I don't... I just..." Mark took in a deep breath. "Why would you do this to yourself? To me?"

Sean didn't say anything. He opened his mouth, but then closed it shortly after. Mark waited impatiently for a response. "I-I," Sean stuttered. But instead he just burst into tears. Mark was taken aback slightly by this, but he refused to let that break his anger. "I-I don't know, M-Mark. I-I just --" Sean gagged and then found himself hunched over the toilet.

Mark cursed under his breath. He couldn't stay mad at Sean when he was like this. "It's okay, buddy," Mark said softly. He rubbed circles into Sean's back. "You'll be better in the morning."

"I-I'm s-so sorry --" Sean couldn't get the rest of his sentence out.

"It's okay, Jack, really." Mark began feeling bad for yelling earlier. He didn't mean to, he was just angry. "You can tell me everything you want tomorrow. Don't try to tell me right now. At least tomorrow is the weekend, right?"

They spent a good portion of time just sitting on the bathroom floor. It smelled like cheap booze and vomit, but Mark didn't care much. He tried to make Sean feel better while he periodically threw up all the alcohol he drank. Eventually, Sean did stop throwing up. Mark helped him onto his shaky legs and made sure he cleaned his face. He practically had to hold Sean up at this point. Chica trailed after them as they made their way to Sean's room. "You're gonna have to change; you have beer and vomit all over you," Mark said as he set Sean down on his bed.

Sean stared at him dumbly, as if he didn't register what Mark said. He then threw his arms up. "Change me!"

Mark's jaw fell. Did that just happen? "J-Jack, I'm not gonna change you." He shifted uncomfortably. "You're a big boy. You can do that yourself."

"I'm smaller than you aren't I?"

Mark scoffed. "I bet you're smaller than me," he mumbled. He said loud enough for Sean to hear, "That has nothing to do with this. You're an... okay, you don't really act like an adult, but you are legally one. So start strippin'."