Romancing the Darkness (Septiplier/Danti AU)

Chapter 1

The ticking clock on the dull white walls did little to calm his anxiety. He despised this office, and more so the reason that he was here in the first place, sitting in this leather chair that stuck to his sweaty skin everytime he moved. It was just a follow-up visit, to see how he was doing after his recent regimen change, but that feeling of paranoia never seemed to dissipate. They were all looking at him. Judging him. Whispering behind his back. No amount of medication could ever stop that annoying voice in the back of his mind from chiming in at the worth possible time, but it did quiet down a few of his nastier symptoms, like the manic episodes that kept him up for days on end. In comparison to everything else he's experienced; the fits of paranoid rage, the hallucinations, blind accusations that his reality is all a lie, that little bit of breakthrough anxiety wasn't all that bad.

He sat there, bouncing his leg as the clock ticked on, wondering how much longer Dr. Patrick would be. He was usually never this late for an appointment.

Tick...

Tock...

His heart was beginning to pound, filling his ears with the sound of his own blood rushing. Maybe something terrible happened to him? What if he was in an accident and no one knew about it? Fuck. He'd just be lying there on the pavement, bleeding out while the world continued to spin without him. What if-,

The sound of the door swinging open suddenly stopped that voice from continuing its little delusion of death, and he sighed with relief when his blue eyes met the calming hazel of Dr.Patrick's. Thank God he's alright.

"So sorry I'm late, Sean. I was held up by another client," the doctor said with a smile, noticing Sean's tense posture as he sat in the chair across from his desk. "I do hope that I didn't worry you."

"Not at all, Doc. It was only fifteen minutes."

Dr. Patrick furrowed his brow for only a moment or two, then relaxed his face into an expression as blank as he could manage. He's known Sean for too many years to believe that his anxiety wasn't acting up from his tardiness, but he also knew that this was just the way the small man coped.

The doctor sat down in his usual spot and waited for Sean to speak first. It was the same routine every week for the past two and a half years. Sean would tell him that the voices were demanding for him to give in to his urges, to punch the lady at the grocery store that cut in front of him in line, that the mailman that couldn't say his last name correctly needed to be punished, or that the medication was working enough to keep him from committing a felony, but just barely.

The conversation would then float to his boyfriend Mark, who was obviously worried. Asking him questions that he didn't want him to have answers to at all. Followed by an uncomfortable silence before Dr. Patrick would as if Sean would at least consider having Mark sit in on one of their sessions. Each time his blue eyes looked up, horrified by the very idea. The excuses as to why were the only change in their routine, and then a few calming exercises would settle down the voices before he left.

Mark really needed to know how much Sean was regressing in his current therapy, but Dr.Patrick couldn't do shit when it came to that. He was bound by the laws of confidentiality, and if Sean didn't want Mark to know that he was schizophrenic then he had to respect that. The only exception to that would be if Sean was an immediate danger to himself or others, which he wasn't. At least in Dr.Patrick's opinion, he wasn't. Sean had neglected to tell him about the barrage of suicidal ideations that frequently passed through his mind. Like in the morning when he was shaving, pressing the straight razor against his Adam's apple like the voices commanded him to do. He felt like a puppet, staring at himself in the mirror with this blank expression. All it would take is a quick drawback of his arm and it would all be over. But Mark would be devastated, and that thought was the only thing that stayed his trembling hand. He was so sick, and no one but him knew just how bad it really was.

"So, Sean, how was your trip with Mark? I believe you mentioned that he was taking you to a bed and breakfast for your first anniversary."

Sean robotically nodded, putting on his mask of contentment once again as he answered the doctor's question.

"It was nice. Mark and I have been working very hard recently, and it was refreshing to take some time and just breathe."

"That's wonderful, Sean. I know how hard you've been working lately, and it's good for you to take some time off. Perhaps it could even help with your research. Sometimes we just need to take a step back and clear our minds for the answers we seek to show themselves."

The Irishman gave another robotic nod, trying his best to add in a small smile. As much as he wanted to tell Dr. Patrick what was going on inside his troubled mind, he couldn't. Sean wasn't naive to the keywords and phrases he needed to steer clear from to stop the doctor from making an appropriate phone call or recommendation.

Sean was able to figure this out on his own. Getting Mark involved would just make the already pressing walls close in even tighter around him. He adored Mark, but he was suffocating, forced to lie whenever Mark asked if he was okay. He needed a lover. Not another parent.

The session with Dr.Patrick ended shortly after, with yet another pill added to his already staggering amount of prescribed medications. It wouldn't help. Nothing ever did. But he'd continue to lie for the sake of keeping his partner in the dark, and a with a weary sigh, Sean slipped on his metaphorical mask and drove home to Mark.