You didn't even know if Tim were taking his medication anymore. You supposed, it could be that he ran out - but he'd go out to the pharmacy for more, no? He hated his coughing fits, his seizures. Everything about his sickness. And his smoking habits only made his cough worse. So why was he suddenly just... not taking his meds? Hell, even you couldn't have an answer even possibly fathomable.

After a rough day at work, you'd stepped into yours and Tim's shared apartment, dropping your bag recklessly to the cold ground. Abruptly, you could hear a thud, and several hit like noises against the wall. Seizure, was the only thing that came to mind as you rushed up to see Tim.

Tim, laying on the floor, was convulsing, his head hitting the wall as he lay beside his bed, the basket that was originally on his dresser now knocked down. With his position, he could result with a head injury, or - fuck - even worse, a concussion. There had to be something to get under his head.