A smile pulled at the corners of his lips as Alec spoke, lopsided and faint but the most genuine gesture of appreciation he could muster in light of the circumstances; well, that or an embrace, but his clothes were still caked in dried blood ( the owner of which Sully had still yet to figure out, uncomfortably enough ) and he got the distinct feeling that wouldn’t make for a very pleasant hug for either of them. So, for the moment, a smile would have to do. “Yeah — yeah, me too,” he admitted quietly, and he would’ve nodded were he not positive the motion would exacerbate the headache that was only just beginning to subside at the base of his skull. In all honesty, after he’d been dragged into the room of mirrors and lights and just before he’d started to convulse on the staircase, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be alright. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so severely triggered, the last time he’d felt an aura quite so strong. More often than not, a careful regimen of medication and marijuana kept them under control. But he was well aware a part of that could be contributed to environment; for all intents and purposes, Sully tried to avoid places that would scare the ever-loving shit out of him. But this — this place was different.
“Hey, don’t — don’t apologize, okay? That’s jus’ — honestly, you did more than I could have even expected,” Sully admitted, a vague sense of shock to his tone that the boy thought he hadn’t done enough, that he should have helped more. And it was true; save for the sealed windows and locked doors and the whatever-the-fuck that was harassing them all, he’d been in situations like that before — more times than he could count, honestly — surrounded by people when suddenly he’d have an episode and drop to the ground and no one knew what to do. “It was everything you could do, an’ — an’ it helped more than you know. The fall, that — it doesn’t matter.” He had a fuckin’ goose egg on the back of his head, sure, but that was nobody’s fault but his own, and it was also something he’d dealt with countless times before. The stoner had experienced more concussions in his lifetime than he could count on his hands and his feet combined. “The point is I coulda fucked myself up on those stairs, like, bad. An’ because of you, I didn’t. An’ I seriously can’t thank you enough for that, man, I jus’ — I want you to know.”
The question that followed was one he’d expected, and he shook his head lightly, biting back a wince at the gesture. God, he needed a joint or something, anything to subdue the pain a bit. “I mean, most — most people don’t,” he confessed. “Have any idea, that is. I try t’keep it under control most of the time.” A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he dropped his gaze to the floor once more. And here it was. The one thing he’d done so well to keep hidden in the two years he spent in college, and now he was forced to ‘fess up to it. He had no choice, not after the display he’d made of himself last night. “I, uh’ — I’m okay, yeah. It’s jus’ I — I, um — I’m kinda epileptic? Not — not like kinda, actually. I have been, for, uh’ — for most of my life. It’s usually not that bad, ‘cause, y’know, meds an’ all, but sometimes — well, sometimes I have seizures. Like last night.” A light shrug pulled at his shoulders and he averted his gaze. God, why did this make him so uncomfortable? It was like grade school all over again.
“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I shoulda — shoulda warned someone, y’know? Tried to, at least. I thought I coulda prevented it.”
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