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The first time Art has a seizure outside of the hospital, he scares the shit out of everyone except himself.
It’s been a depressing and stressful few weeks, with meeting after meeting — his coach, the heads of the athletic board, the chancellor — to try and figure out if his spot at Stanford is going to be ripped out from under him. Patrick had suggested he wait a few weeks, get settled and used to being out of the hospital, but Art couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t have been able to relax not knowing where his future was going. It ended up being pointless in the end, with everyone saying they should wait out his recovery before making any concrete decisions. But Art isn’t an idiot, he’s done his research and athletes have lost their scholarships due to lesser injuries than the one he has now. So, he scours Stanford and applies for as many academic scholarships as he can. He’s already losing tennis, and he absolutely refuses to lose his spot at Stanford as well.
He spends his days studying, applying for scholarships and jobs that he can do sitting down, going to physical therapy, and watching Tashi practice. Maybe that last one is a little masochistic, but he refuses to let tennis leave his life for good. He’s pushing himself a little bit, he knows this, but he’s not being unnecessarily reckless and he’s taking all of his medication. Art would never purposely do anything to hinder his recovery, no matter how often he might be tempted to.
He’s been having trouble sleeping the past couple of days, but the doctors say that’s to be expected given the TBI and all the medication he’s taking. Maybe it’s because he refuses to take the dosage of pain meds they want him to — but Art absolutely refuses to get addicted to prescription pain medication — and maybe it’s because instead of laying in bed and trying to let himself relax, he studies when he can’t sleep. It could be anything, if Art really thinks about it, or it could be nothing. It could just be because his brain is fucked up due to the crash, but either way he ends up having a seizure.
He’s extra tired that day, and he can feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on, but Patrick’s back on campus visiting and Art really wants to see him. They meet in the cafeteria because apparently Tashi mentioned to Patrick that Art has been eating in his room more often than not, and according to Patrick socialization is good for recovery. Art thinks that’s total bullshit. He also doesn’t know whether to love or hate that Tashi and Patrick seem to be on good terms now. Love, because the three of them spending time together isn’t as tense and awkward anymore. Hate, because they’ve decided to conspire against him. Hate, because getting along could lead to a rekindling. Hate, because what if they leave him behind again?
But he still sits in the cafeteria with them, absently picking at the salad he hadn’t even wanted — his mouth tastes funny anyway — and listens as they argue about Patrick’s performance at his most recent match. It’s easy to let the words wash over him as Art stares listlessly down at his food, an almost pleasant numbness taking over his body. Art doesn’t even realise that something is wrong, just that one moment he’s sitting at the table and the next he’s blinking back into awareness on the floor with someone’s hand stroking through his hair.
“Hey, you awake?”
Art slowly becomes aware of the fact that his head is resting in somebody’s lap, and the figure eventually fades into Tashi. Her hair is dancing just above Art’s face as she stares down at him, her lips pursed and her eyes tight with worry. It’s confusing, especially considering she was just sitting across from him and mocking Patrick — speaking of Patrick, that’s definitely his hand in Art’s hair. He tries to strain his head back to look for Patrick, but Tashi’s hands come up to hold his head in place.
“Try not to move too fast, we don’t know if you hit your head on the way down.”
Art still has no idea what she’s talking about, but now that she mentions it his head does really hurt. He tries to ask what happened, but all that comes out is a garbled, “wha’?” He smacks his lips a few times, that funny taste from earlier still lingering, but it’s almost like his mouth is too numb to properly speak at the moment.
”You had a seizure,” Patrick’s voice says, and even though Art still can’t see him, he’s glad for the verbal confirmation that his friend is there. “It was fucking scary, Art.”
Art tries to apologize, but he still can’t really form words at the moment, so he just lets out a small hum. After a few probing questions from Tashi that sound like she’s reading a script from Art’s doctor, she slowly helps him sit up. He’s a little embarrassed to notice that he’s attracted a small crowd of people, though Patrick is quick to obscure them from view as he suddenly appears in front of Art.
“I’m not seeing any blood,” Tashi murmurs as she inspects the back of Art’s head. “Does your head hurt?”
Art just nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. He doesn’t think he’d be able to say anything even if he could speak, too distracted with the way Patrick’s hands gently cradle his face, thumbs stroking up and down Art’s cheeks soothingly. He and Patrick have always been touchy, but something about the way Patrick’s looking at him right now feels different. Maybe it would be something to examine more closely if Art wasn’t coming down from a seizure, as he is though, it’s easy to get distracted by Tashi grabbing his attention again.
“Apparently a headache is a normal symptom post seizure, but I still think we should take you to Student Health just in case.”
Art sighs, letting out a small, “m’kay,” as he lets the two of them slowly pull him to his feet. His leg hurts a little, still wrapped up in its cast, but Art thinks that could just be due to the way he’d fallen. Either way, he can still walk well enough on his crutches, but Patrick still keeps one hand on Art’s back and the other on his shoulder — he tries to ignore how much he likes it. Tashi soldiers on ahead, easily parting the crowd without speaking, and though Art can’t see her face, based on people’s reactions, he’s guessing she’s hitting them with her lethal glare. It makes him smile a little.
Tashi continues to take a hold of the situation when they reach Student Health, explaining everything to the nurse as Patrick helps sit Art down. The nurse asks similar questions to Tashi, thankfully easy to answer with either a nod or shake of his head. She concludes he doesn’t have a concussion and then asks him if he’s having trouble speaking.
Art nods, managing to mumble out a small, “‘s hard.”
The nurse hums, taking off her gloves before starting to click away at her computer. “Well, headaches and trouble talking are completely normal symptoms for the postictal stage of a seizure, it shouldn’t last more than a few hours. If anything starts to really hurt, though, I would think about dropping by an Urgent Care or calling an ambulance.”
Art doesn’t plan on doing anything other than sleep as soon as he makes it back to his dorm, but he still nods along to her words anyway. He’s still pretty much out of it as Tashi and Patrick walk him back to his dorm, almost feeling like he’s watching it happen from above, and Art vaguely wonders if that’s a normal thing to feel after a seizure. He’ll look it up later, for now he just wants to sleep.
Art isn’t aware of getting into bed and going to sleep, but he obviously does because he wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later. It’s dark outside his window and there’s a body on the bed next to him, snoring away. Patrick. Art has shared enough rooms — and beds — with Patrick to know that it’s him without even having to check. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about this, so Art doesn’t try to wake him to ask what’s going on, just gingerly pushes himself into a sitting position. That’s when he spots the lump on his floor. At first it just looks like a pile of blankets and pillows, but as Art’s eyes slowly adjust to the dark he realises that it’s a person — Tashi.
Sleeping on the floor like that cannot be good for her, yet there she is, very obviously in a deep sleep. Art wonders how long they’ve both been here, or if they ever left. The idea that they’ve stayed here all this time, watching over him, fills Art with so many different emotions that it’s easy to look past the practical and medical side of it. Yes, they most likely stayed to make sure he didn’t die in his sleep or have another seizure, but the main point is that they did stay.
And as much as Art would love to sit there and examine those thoughts and feelings even further, his urgent need to pee gets in the way of his spiraling. He can’t get out of the bed without waking Patrick, though, so Art doesn’t hesitate to hit Patrick as hard as he can with his pillow.
“I’m up,” Patrick mumbles sleepily as he scrambles into a sitting position, immediately losing his balance and rolling off the bed. The thump he makes is comical, and so is the surprised shout that Tashi lets out as the commotion wakes her.
Art can’t help the slightly hysterical laughter he lets out at the display, watching as Patrick continues to scramble for balance all the while Tashi curses under her breath, sounding completely unimpressed. “Thank you for that, Patrick, you’ve made my day.”
There’s a little more fumbling in the dark, and then his lamp turns on, revealing Tashi leaning against his desk and examining him critically while Patrick still sits on the floor, looking like he’s about to fall asleep again.
“He speaks,” Tashi says, vaguely reminding Art that that was something he had been struggling with before.
“He also really needs to piss, so,” Art trails off, giving his crutches — which are on the other side of the room — a pointed look.
Despite the fact that Tashi is closer, Patrick scrambles to his feet to grab them, almost like it’s a race to see who gets there first. Not that Tashi participates — no, she just watches on with an amused smile as Patrick tries to stifle a yawn into his shoulder while he holds the crutches out for Art.
Patrick insists on coming with him, and as they leave the room Tashi calls out, “don’t fall in!”
This keeps a smile on Art’s face the entire walk to the bathroom, and he’s glad that Patrick came when he doesn’t have to contend with opening the door by himself. He draws the line at Patrick holding his fucking dick, though, so he makes him turn around once they’re inside. Tashi has sprawled herself across Art’s bed when they get back, and Art barely hears the annoyed groan Patrick lets out because holy shit, Tashi is fucking gorgeous. Even just laying there, clearly half asleep, her hair a mess, and in what is definitely one of Art’s shirts — he’s going to be thinking about that for days — she might be one of the most beautiful people in the world.
“What the fuck, Tashi?” Patrick practically whines as he helps settle Art onto the bed next to her. He collapses on the floor right next to the bed, though, not going far and leaning his head back so his hair just tickles Art’s leg.
Tashi just shrugs, adjusting the comforter over the two of them and very obviously getting comfortable. “You already had your turn, it’s mine now.”
Art might just die. Those words specifically, along with the echo of Patrick’s whine in his ear, are going to be the death of him. Art has never hated the cast on his leg more than he does now, because if it wasn’t there the three of them might have been able to squeeze into the bed together.
“Don’t you both have shit to do tomorrow?” Art asks, trying to get his mind out of the gutter.
“Nope,” they both reply simultaneously, even though Art knows that isn’t true. He’s pretty sure Patrick’s needs to leave for an upcoming tournament in a few days, and Tashi has never been one to prioritise anything over tennis — yet here they both are.
Art is torn between pushing them away — because if he’s too needy, too much, they’ll get sick of him — and grabbing them both tightly and never letting them go. Tashi speaks again before he can spiral too far into his thoughts.
“How do you feel? And no lying, this is serious shit.”
“Honestly, I feel fine,” Art says, glancing back and forth between the scarily similar looks Patrick and Tashi are giving him. “I mean, I had a headache earlier and the speaking thing was weird, but I’m all good now. I don’t even remember having the seizure, just that one minute I was sitting at the table and the next I was on the ground.”
“That was the scariest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life, Art,” Patrick’s voice is low and serious in a way that Art rarely hears. “You just suddenly slumped into your seat and then fell to the ground. We barely got the table moved out of the way before you hit your head while seizing.”
Art can’t even begin to imagine what it must’ve looked like from the outside. They didn’t get to black out and wake up when it was over — no, they had to watch the whole thing. Probably time him too, and make sure that they wouldn’t need to call an ambulance. Art thinks about being fifteen-years-old and having to watch Patrick be rushed to the hospital because he was so sick he couldn’t keep anything down and they needed to get him on an IV to stay hydrated. That’s probably the most terrified Art has ever been, though he’s betting watching a seizure happen is much scarier.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, though the word is barely out of his mouth when Tashi hits him upside the head. “Ow! What was that for?”
The frown she levels at him immediately shuts him up. “Don’t even, you little shit. It wasn’t your fault, okay?” She waits for him to nod before she continues. “Look, we can talk about this more in the morning, we’re all tired and need to sleep, so lay down and shut up.”
Art settles down in his bed more comfortably, trying not to be too conscious of the fact that Tashi is right there. All it would take is a little maneuvering and they could be cuddling. Of course, before Art can think about it too much and do something stupid, Patrick lets out another dramatic groan from the ground. “I’ll sleep, but I don’t know how comfortable I’ll be down here.”
“Shut up, Patrick,” Art and Tashi mumble at the same time.
“Love you guys, too,” is the grumbled response they get.