Chapter Text
This might be the stupidest, most embarrassing situation Silver has ever landed himself in…and given the way his life has been going these past several years, that’s saying a lot.
Also saying a lot: Lance, who won’t stop talking to the neurologist. He’s more nervous about this whole EEG thing than Silver is. Mostly Silver’s just tired of looking like a weirdo, lying on this bed waiting for his brain waves to tell the doctor if he’s gonna have more seizures or whatever. (He’s not, ’cause he’s fine. He isn’t some weakling who can’t even control his own body.)
I wish Lance would shut up, Silver thinks as the tech keeps sticking wires to his scalp. Is this really the time to go over how he ‘needs to improve’ his sleep, eating, and ‘stress management’ habits? Without moving his head, he looks to the side.
Lance meets his eyes and smiles. “Doing great, kid! Only a few more wires.”
Don’t patronize me, Silver wants to snap, even as some idiotic part of him screams for more validation. Yeah, he’s just lying here, but a stranger’s touching his head and this electrode gel is super gritty and the lights are making an annoying sound and he’s tired and hungry and being very brave about it all…so yes, he is doing great. He looks away.
It turns out that Lance’s definition of ‘a few’ goes up to seven. After pressing the last electrode to Silver’s scalp, the tech steps back and starts clicking a mouse. “All right, everything is in place now. We just need to check the positioning of the leads and make sure they’re all recording properly.”
Lance steps aside to let the doctor pass, then looks at Silver and smiles again. “You still feeling okay?”
Silver wants to shrug, but he’s not supposed to move. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to stay perfectly still, kiddo.” Lance seems to be holding back laughter. (Because you look fucking ridiculous, Silver’s inner voice supplies.) “Just don’t go jumping around or tearing those wires out.”
Or having a seizure, Silver thinks…not that he’s going to. “Hmph.”
“If you wanna fi—”
“No,” he snaps, eyes wide. Sure, these people already know way too much about him, including what Lance thinks he looks like when he has a seizure or whatever, but he is not about to let Lance say ‘fidget’ in front of them.
The older trainer nods. “Okay. But remember, you can ask for a break whenever you need one.”
Yeah, right. Silver stares at the ceiling.
“Looks like everything is in working order.” The neurologist—Silver doesn’t recall his name, just that it’s dumb—comes back into Silver’s field of view. “Now the tech will wrap your head with some gauze to keep it all in place. While that’s happening, we can go over what to expect in the first part of the test.”
Dr. Dumb Name starts talking. Silver doesn’t listen, though, because he’s busy taking 4x damage from the feeling of all these discs pressing against his scalp…while gloved fingers brush over his skin…while itchy gauze covers his ears.
He tries not to react (can’t show weakness), but then the fingers stop. Someone says his name. He opens his eyes to find the tech, the doctor, and Lance watching him.
Lance, of course, seems the most worried. “Hey, we’re gonna take a quick break, okay? Breathe.”
Silver’s totally doing that. He stares at Lance as the different parts of his body come back online. Fingers: digging into his palms. Head: scratchy sharp rough too much, too much, where’s—
Lance puts his hands on Silver’s shoulders. “I’ve got you, kiddo. It’s all right.” Then, looking to the side: “He gets overwhelmed sometimes.”
No, I don’t, Silver wants to say, but he can only groan. Forget what he thought earlier: this has got to be the stupidest and most embarrassing thing ever.
“I know,” Lance murmurs. “It’s okay. You can move.”
Bold to assume Silver needs permission. Anyway, he’s not gonna listen. He should be fine. He…oh, he’s getting the wiggles. Sure, whatever, guess that’s happening now.
(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s glad Lance said ‘move’ and not ‘fidget’ or—cringe alert—‘stim,’ because that’s dumb. He just feels like he has to do this ’cause his senses pick up on too much shit. It doesn’t need a name.)
Mid-wiggle, Silver finds himself humming by accident. This feels like Lance’s fault…somehow. ’Cause he hums a lot, which is fine, but why does he have to seem so comfortable with it? Didn’t anyone ever tell him, you know, ‘stop that or people will stare’? But of course Lance doesn’t hum the same note over and over, irritating everyone around him and probably getting a note in his chart that says, ‘pt. feels overwhelmed for no reason, starts making repetitive sounds & movements, needs to be coddled like the pathetic dumbass he is’…
A clear solution for Silver, then: force himself to shut up. He switches to chewing on the inside of his lip.
This works—it just makes Lance frown a bit. (Judgmental asshole, Silver thinks. Then, quieter: don’t kick me out.) He holds Silver’s gaze. “You okay if I let go and give you my cape?”
Oh, that’s a good sign. Lance isn’t gonna leave his stupid cape behind, even if he has a million others exactly like it. Silver starts to nod, then thinks better of it. “Mm-hmm.”
(Maybe he makes a few more humming sounds as the older trainer lifts his hands, takes off his cape, and uses it to cover him from the neck down. Whatever.)
The cloth has a heft to it that still surprises Silver. He runs his hands along it, then—against his better judgment, because this is cringe and people are watching—buries his face in it. Everything goes dark in a nice way, leaving him to focus on the faint scent of sandalwood. He feels himself relax a bit.
“Good, there we go,” Lance says. “It’s okay. Take as much time as you need, kiddo.”
That’s code for ‘hurry the fuck up,’ probably, so Silver tries to pull himself together. He moves the cape away from his face but keeps it clutched in front of his chest…in a casual, unbothered way. No big deal. He’s chilling.
The tech holds up another roll of gauze, thicker than the last and even scratchier-looking. (Silver deeply regrets letting Lance drag him here.) “We need to wrap your head one more time to keep everything in place. Ready to keep going?”
Are Silver’s words back yet? He opens his mouth. No, they are not. He gives a thumbs-up.
As the tech moves behind him and gets to work, Silver clings to the cape. Lance smiles at him. “Hey, have you decided what kind of cookie you want from the cafeteria?”
“Mm…” Silver looks away, wiggling his feet. Double chocolate chip, maybe. He holds up two fingers.
“Double chocolate chip? Yeah, we can go see if they have those.”
“They usually do,” Dr. Dumb Name chimes in. “If not, they always have regular chocolate chip cookies. I’m told those are the most popular.”
Lance seems to consider this. “Do they have oatmeal raisin?”
“Oh, yes.”
Gross. Silver makes a face. He hears Lance laugh, then notices some shifting behind his head.
“And…done.” The tech goes to stand next to the doctor, on the opposite side from Lance. “When you’re ready, I can explain the first part of the test.”
Without thinking, Silver looks at Lance. The older trainer gives him a soft smile and a nod. “I’ll be right here.”
Yeah, whatever, Silver wants to say. “Hmph.”
He rubs the edge of the cape between his fingers as the tech starts talking. (People like it when you make eye contact, so he tries to do that sometimes too.)
“In this part, you’ll close your eyes and we’ll shine flashing lights at you using this.” The tech reaches to the side, pulling over a big lamp mounted on an arm. “If you feel anything unusual, or if you need a break, raise your hand to let us know.”
Silver catches himself running the cloth over his lips. He quickly puts it down. There’s an illogical, cowardly sort of tension in his shoulders as he closes his eyes. Why is he nervous? It’s not like this dumb lamp is about to make him…you know.
The light starts to flash and Silver feels his face scrunch up without his permission. He tries to relax—easier said than done when there’s a huge light flickering in his face—and hopes he’s not gonna hit the deck.
He doesn’t. (Hooray.) After a few rounds, during which the light seems to get faster and faster, it shuts off. Wincing, he cracks his eyes open. Ugh, he did not enjoy that, and Lance’s smile is all the more annoying for it. Silver’s fine, though. He just can’t let anybody pick up on the dull pain behind his eyes or this strange rolling in his stomach.
During the break that follows, he rubs his face, then shakes out his hands. He wants a cup of water, but it’s not like he can just ask. If someone offers it, he’ll say yes. Otherwise he’s fine. He swallows.
“Ready for the next part?” Dr. Dumb Name asks.
When Silver gives him a thumbs-up, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pinwheel. “You’ll need this.”
Um, okay. Silver takes it, frowning. It’s a small, brightly colored thing with eight blades. He flicks it.
“Your task is to blow on that pinwheel and keep it moving quickly for as long as you can.”
Silver, unsure what the hell this is supposed to do, goes along with it anyway. He puffs away at the pinwheel, trying to make it spin faster. Then he blinks and, out of nowhere, it stops.
What’s wrong with this thing? Frowning, Silver keeps blowing on it. He’s just gotten it up to the same speed as before when it stops again. Stupid pinwheel.
“Okay, you can stop now. I’ll take that.” The tech motions for Silver to hand over the pinwheel, which he does. But he gets no indication of how he did on that part of the test. Did he make the wheel spin fast enough? How many points did he lose when it stopped out of nowhere?
There’s one more break before the last section. Silver shakes out his hands, looking around the room.
Oh, Lance is watching him. “Still feeling okay, kiddo?”
Silver stares at the bridge of his nose. “Yeah.”
“All right.” Lance nods. “You need anything?”
He doesn’t need anything, but a cup of water would be nice. “Mm-mm.”
“Just let me know if that changes.”
As if. Silver looks at the ceiling, wiggling his legs occasionally, until the tech asks if he’s ready to move on. He gives a thumbs-up.
Then something strange happens: the lights dim on their own, the doctor teleports half a meter to the side, and the tech starts speaking in the middle of a sentence.
“—to fall asleep. If you can’t, just try to relax. We’ll wake you up in about twenty minutes.”
Silver blinks. Okay, weird, but he’s used to weird. He lives with Lance. (For some reason, though, this has made him lose his ability to sleep wherever, whenever, in whatever position.) Closing his eyes, he clutches the cape to his chest.
He’s drowsy, and the dimmed lights help with the headache he’s not developing…yet he can’t drift off. Not even when the tech says he can sleep on his side, or when he curls up despite knowing that this makes him look pathetic. He huffs.
Calmly, almost casually, Lance places a hand on the rail of the bed.
He might be disappointed or angry if Silver messes up this test. At the very least he’ll be inconvenienced. Silver swallows his pride, along with the spit that’s pooled in his mouth, as he grabs the older trainer’s sleeve. Then he shuts his eyes and tries to lie still.
“—coming around. Hey, there you are.”
Silver opens his eyes, squinting. He makes a very eloquent mhhghngh noise.
The blob above him sharpens into Lance’s face. Silver blinks. “Hhh?”
“Hi, kiddo.” Lance smiles and brushes Silver’s hair back. “All done with your EEG. The tech just took the electrodes off.”
Oh. Silver’s head feels foggy…not to mention sticky. He frowns, touching it with one hand. “Ew.”
“Yeah, I know. You can wash the glue out when we get home.” Lance holds out his hands to help Silver up.
Silver ignores this, pushing himself into a sitting position with only a bit of awkwardness. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Hmph.”
The room is chilly, Silver notices as he sways a bit. Lance is right there, and he’d be fine with Silver leaning against him, and he’d be comfy and warm…but that’s childish. That makes it weak, which makes it unacceptable.
Having finished with the computer, the doctor comes over to shake hands with Lance. “All right, Mr. Blackthorn”—Silver stifles a laugh—“I’ll call you in a few days to go over the results. It was nice to meet you. Silver, great seeing you again. Take care.”
Lance thanks him, then the tech, who nods at them before leaving. Silver yawns and swings his legs over the side of the bed.
“Nice job, kid.” Smiling softly, Lance hands over the hoodie he brought. “Put this on and we can go.”
“Whatever, Mr. Blackthorn.” Silver pulls it over his head. He leaves the hood up.
“Hey.” Lance laughs.
With a smirk, Silver pushes some of his hair back. “I thought you didn’t like being called that.”
“It’s not my favorite term of address, but it’s no big deal.” Lance shrugs. “Dr. Harusame works mostly with children. I’d bet talking to adults that way is just second nature to him.”
“If you say so, old man.”
He grins. “You want that oversized cookie or not?”
Once he’s put his cape back on, Lance leads Silver down the hall and back to the front desk, where he has a brief conversation with the hospital staff.
The air smells kind of smoky. Silver tries not to be too conspicuous as he sniffs, looking around to see where it might be coming from. This smell lingers all the way to the cafeteria, where it joins a melting pot of odors that makes him a bit nauseated. He swallows and frowns.
“Cookies are over here, kiddo.” Lance shows him a dessert-packed display case. The entire top row is filled with cookies. “Hey, looks like they’ve got double chocolate chip!”
He buys a giant cookie for Silver and a regular one for himself—oatmeal raisin, because he has no taste—then turns. “You wanna eat here or head home?”
Silver bites into his cookie. “The second thing.”
The walk back to Lance’s house starts off quiet, which suits Silver just fine. He looks around (not that there’s much to see aside from trees) and munches on his cookie. Then Lance turns to him with a very specific expression on his face.
Don’t make me talk about how I feel, Silver thinks.
“So, kiddo, let’s debrief.” Lance, either oblivious to or flat-out ignoring Silver’s misery, offers him a little smile. “How’re you feeling?”
“I was good until you asked me that,” Silver grumbles.
Lance keeps watching him.
“Ugh.” Turning his focus back to the ground, Silver bites into his cookie again. “’M fine. Nothing to discuss.”
“Was the test as bad as you thought it’d be?”
“No,” Silver says, and then he realizes too late that he’s answered in earnest. “Uh…’cause I didn’t even think it’d be bad.”
Lance laughs. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“But you—” Something possesses Silver to just say what he’s thinking. Exhaustion, maybe? He draws in a deep breath. “You’ll, uh, tell me what the doctor says, right? When he calls you later?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Silver nods. “Cool.”
“What else is stressing you out?”
Head snapping up, he glares at Lance. “Nothing. What do you mean?”
The older trainer breaks off a piece of his cookie but doesn’t put it in his mouth yet. “I can tell something’s troubling you.”
“No, it’s not.” Silver watches with moderate disgust as Lance eats the raisin-riddled sweet. “This’s just how I am.”
“Mm, I don’t think that’s true.” Lance gives him a slight smile. “I’m here to listen if you’d like to share what’s on your mind.”
Silver frowns. “Uh…why would I do that?”
He gets a shrug. “Because talking about it might help. Sometimes during a conversation I realize things I wouldn’t have thought of before.”
“Hm.”
“Give it a try.”
With a huff, Silver looks away. “I dunno, I guess this whole ‘you might be epileptic’ thing has been…not great.”
Lance hums in understanding. “I hear you.”
“I sure hope you do,” Silver says, trying for a smirk, “or else you’re really getting old.”
“Ouch.” Lance laughs.
“It’s just…” Silver steps on a crunchy-looking leaf. (It meets his expectations.) “What if I do have that, and these things keep happening?”
“Then we’ll make an appointment with the neurologist to come up with a treatment plan.”
Silver mimics the doctor’s voice. “Hello again, Mr. Blackthorn.”
“Quit that,” Lance tells him, but his tone is light.
Searching for another dry leaf, Silver tries to seem casual. “But could I still…be a trainer?”
“I don’t see why not.” Lance points to an orange leaf on the path ahead of them. “Many people with epilepsy are able to get their seizures under control with medications.”
Silver crushes it and hears a satisfying crackle. “Were you searching this up online?”
“Maybe.”
“Hmph.”
Lance waits to see if Silver has anything else to say. (He does not.)
“Well, try not to stress about it too much before we get the results. And no matter what, kid, I’m on your side.”
“Great,” Silver deadpans. This earns him another laugh. “I feel so much better now.”
They go back to walking quietly. By the time they reach Lance’s house, Silver has finished his giant cookie. It’s good, and he can feel the sugar entering his bloodstream…but he’s still exhausted. He yawns as Lance gets out his keys.
Holding the door open, Lance smiles. “Feeling sleepy?”
“No,” Silver grumbles. He kicks off his shoes and pads toward the couch, then stops. Ugh, his hair is all yucky…but he’s too tired to scrub the glue out…but he won’t be able to sleep well until he does…
“Would you like me to wash your hair for you?”
Silver blinks, then frowns (and yawns again). “Huh?”
“I’ll rephrase a bit.” Lance laughs. “Will you allow me to wash your hair so you can sleep comfortably?”
“I can…” Another huge yawn stretches its way out of Silver. “Ugh.”
Lance watches him rub his eye with a fist. “I’ll be gentle, kid. I just wanna help you get that glue out because I know it’s uncomfortable.”
“Mmmh. Fine, I guess.” Silver imagines bending to fit his head under the bathtub faucet, getting a faceful of drain in the process. Sounds like a literal pain in the neck. “But how…?”
“We’ll use the sink. You’ll be in a chair, so you can just relax.”
Since Silver doesn’t have the energy to question this, he lets Lance set him up in a chair in front of the kitchen sink, head tilted back and towel wrapped around his shoulders.
“I read that baby oil is useful for removing glue from hair,” Lance informs him matter-of-factly, “so that’s what I’m rubbing in now.”
Weird, Silver thinks. “Mm.”
Having covered all the little spots on his head, Lance makes gentle scratching motions along Silver’s scalp. It feels kind of nice. Before he can stop himself, Silver hums.
Lance smiles. “Good?”
“’S fine.” Silver looks at him, then at the ceiling. He stifles another yawn. “You can…keep going. If you want.”
“Okay.”
Silver’s body continues to get heavier as Lance washes his hair, narrating each step and humming softly as he works. The water is warm. Maybe he can let his eyelids come down…
Lance’s phone rings.
“Shoot,” he mumbles, and then Silver hears a few shuffling noises. At the sound of footsteps, he cracks one eye open. Seems like he’s curled up on his side with a towel around his head. What…?
“Hey, is something going on?” Lance, capeless, has moved toward the kitchen. He’s close enough to monitor Silver but not close enough to notice that he’s awake. “What? Oh. Mm-hmm.”
He pauses, tilting his head as he listens to whoever’s on the other end of the call. “Yeah, normally I’d be glad to help, but I have a prior commitment today. Have you tried—?”
Another pause. With a quiet sigh, Lance tilts his head the other way. “I know. Yes, I could, it’s just…”
He closes his eyes for a moment as the other person keeps talking, getting louder as they go. “All right. I’ll make some arrangements and be there soon. Bye.”
He’ll… what? Silver blinks and frowns. Maybe he misheard. Lance is supposed to stay.
The older trainer allows himself one more sigh before tapping his phone again, then lifting it to his ear. “Hey, Clair. Can you come help me out for a couple of hours?”
Silver can hear Clair’s loud, sharp voice through the phone. He can’t make out what she’s saying, though.
“I know. I just need you to keep an eye on him while I’m out. Yes, I’m aware. He had his EEG today and I—don’t call me that. C’mon.” Lance rubs his forehead. “Because I trust you. I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
(If he thinks Silver’s gonna consent to being stuck with Clair for that long, he’s got another think coming.)
Lance’s cousin says something that makes him pinch the bridge of his nose. “Of course I am, he’s my—okay, fine. If you come over, you can help yourself to whatever food’s in the house. Not Silver’s snacks, though. They’re in a separate cabinet.”
The two of them go on like this for a little while until Lance relents. “All right, you can eat his snacks”—Silver frowns—“but you need to make sure he has lunch. And leave at least one portion of everything. Especially those. I know. Mm-hmm. Thanks. See you soon.”
Lance tucks his phone into his pocket before he walks back into the living room, running his hands over his face. He notices Silver watching him and starts. “Oh! Hey, kiddo. You’re up.”
No shit, Silver wants to say. If Lance is already thinking about leaving, though, it won’t help to provoke him. “Mm.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“’M fine.” Only a faint headache, plus annoyance at having his snacks bartered. Silver touches the towel wrapped around his hair. “Uh...thanks.”
“No problem.” Crouching, Lance holds out Silver’s water bottle. “Here you go.”
“Don’t need water,” Silver grumbles. He sits up, then accepts it and takes a few sips.
The older trainer smiles for some reason. “I bet you’re gonna tell me you don’t need anything to eat, either.”
“’Cause I don’t.”
“You don’t want any food?”
Silver shakes his head.
Lance hums. “Not even peanut butter crackers?”
Here Silver’s stomach decides to make a loud gurgling sound. Damn it. He looks at the floor and sighs. “Fine.”
“Thought so.” Lance, probably smiling again because he’s won, stands up. “I’ll be right back.”
While Silver’s waiting, he pushes aside the blankets covering him, then pulls off the towel and uses it to scrunch his hair dry(ish). He tips his head upside down. Sits up…whoa, too fast. Static. For a few seconds everything gets muffled. He blinks until it starts to clear.
He’s still blinking when Lance comes in, and of course that gets the older trainer all worked up. “Hey, what’s wrong? You feel something weird?”
“’M fine,” Silver says, rubbing his eyes. He looks at the dish of crackers in Lance’s hand. “Wait, you plated those?”
“Yeah, of course.” Lance smiles, not entirely hiding the concern (or maybe irritation) on his face. “They taste better this way. Here, I’ll trade you.”
He accepts the damp towel from Silver, who takes the plate and sets it on his lap. “Thanks…I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” Lance sits next to him. “Hey, listen—something came up, so I have to leave for a few hours. I’ll be back in time for dinner, though.”
Silver frowns before he can stop himself. Something more important? Shouldn’t be a surprise. There are plenty of things above him on Lance’s list of priorities. He’s not even sure he’s on there to begin with.
“Um…” He looks at his plate, then shrugs. “Okay. Do whatever you want.”
“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know I said I’d stay…”
“Yeah.” Maybe Silver sounds sulky, but Lance deserves it.
(Would he still leave if Silver had another seizure? Not that there’s any point in wondering, ’cause it won’t happen. Anyway, it’d only be more annoying for Lance, who wouldn’t want some sick, useless kid hanging around. Whatever—if he doesn’t care, then neither does Silver.)
He’s brooding, and then his stomach ruins the effect by rumbling. Lance, who’s thankfully nice enough not to laugh, shifts. “I’ve asked Clair to come over while I’m out.”
Silver scowls at his peanut butter crackers. “Why?”
“You can’t stay here alone.” Lance’s voice sounds firm.
“Can’t I go…wherever it is you’re going?” That’s more important than me?
“No, you need to rest.” When Silver lifts his head, he sees that Lance’s face is as serious (and maybe angry) as his tone. “This isn’t up for debate.”
Something squeezes Silver’s throat, so he turns away and swallows. “Hmph.”
Lance softens his voice. “Hey. I’ll come back as soon as I can, all right?”
“I don’t care,” Silver mumbles.
“Eat your snack, then get some more rest, kiddo.” Gently, Lance ruffles his hair. He stands. “You’ll hear Clair when she arrives. Before I leave, I’ll talk to you both.”
Silver huffs and twists one of the crackers apart. This is annoying, but he’ll just hole up in his…uh, in the room where he sleeps. Lance will come back. Things will be fine.