one shots // falsettos.

tired // j + m

jason is autistic.
inspired by -coffinshopping

•••

he had been on edge all day, fingers shaking and voice failing.

when he came inside, he chucked his bag on the floor and went straight to the kitchen where his father awaited, pouring milk into his coffee. jason slumped down in his seat at the table, quivering.

"jay? buddy?" yet his fathers voice might as well have been underwater. he reached for his fidget cube, trying to count the repetitive clicks of the buttons. 1,2,3,4. 1,2,3,4. it just felt like... nothing in his hands. he chucked it back down on the table, lip quivering as it made an obnoxious clash.

"woah, buddy." a pair of strong hands were on his shoulders, but his body wasn't real, so he couldn't feel it. he looked at his father through bleary eyes, and he counted the freckles that dotted his face. only 14.

his limbs only shook more as his fingers grew numb. tears fell down his red, heated cheeks but he couldn't wipe them away. he couldn't even move.

"repeat after me, okay?" he could only nod rapidly in response.

"felt, silk, cotton, wool. felt, silk, cotton, woll. can you do that for me jason?" his breathing sped up, so did the rate of his heart.

"f-" he tried, but choked off his own words with heavy sobs. the whole room seemed to be distant from him, his father barely grounding him.

he put a small, woven straw bag under jason's hands, which the boy could barely feel, ragged and itchy against his numb fingers. he stroked it down 7 times, up 8. down, up, down, up, in hopes to calm him down.

"felt." that was one word down. he screwed his eyes shut, counting the steps to the bus stop from his very seat. 64. counting the steps to his room. 21. counting the steps to marvin's and whizzers room. 25.

"s-silk." there goes another one. he pictures all the things that make him happy. he pictures chess, a warm feeling blooming in his chest.

"cotton." only one more. he pictures baseball, making his stomach feel giddy.

a wave of anxiety crashes through his veins, what his father would call the "aftershock" of a meltdown. he trembles in marvin's grip, who is watching him with a steady and reassuring gaze.

"almost there buddy."

he pictures his family. the lesbians, his mum, mendel, his father, and whizzer. how they all are there for him and always know what to do for him. he even tears up a little. a small smile worms it's way onto his red face.

"wool."