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I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
Logan’s mind was in a state of absolute chaos, so full of white noise and panic that he couldn’t even open his eyes lest the sensory input finally push him over the metaphorical edge. Obviously, there was no edge but if there had been, he would have likely leapt off of it five minutes prior and saved himself the turmoil. Logan was currently having a complete breakdown for reasons largely unbeknown to him and even more unknown to the people around him - The sides had never seen such behaviours in their logical counterpart. The only thing they had to compare it too was Virgil’s panic attacks but this was definitely something… different.
You see, Logan usually had self-regulation down to a T, it was something that came naturally to him, at least for the most part, he’d felt the urge to stim when stressed since before he even knew that it was called stimming. Like how the body increases or decreases its internal temperature or controls the ratio of glucose to blood, he didn’t even notice it was happening yet it was fundamental to him as a person and his survival. It was not something to be ashamed of, in his opinion. Sadly, his family had had something else to say.
“Stop fidgeting” was a phrase he had heard more times in his life than any words of acceptance and whilst he knew that it was far more than fidgeting to him, the shame eventually took its toll. By the time he met the sides, he developed a habit of sneaking off to the bathroom if he needed to stim or just calm himself down.
Don’t be a freak. Don’t be a freak. Don’t be a freak. Don’t be a freak. Don’t be a freak.
For the first time since he met them all, today, that failed and Logan was trapped in a situation that he couldn’t leave before things got much worse. He couldn’t stim, he knew that they’d all notice and question it. He just sat there, an ocean rumbling inside of him, too much energy inside, too much to process, too much to cope with. He had hoped that if he shutdown, perhaps the others wouldn’t notice. That is not what happened, instead, all the repression lead to a very disastrous and frightening scene… all because of the sound of the lights.
The lights are too bright.
They keep buzzing.
I can’t turn them off.
They keep buzzing.
Roman’s aftershave smells.
It smells really strong.
It smells too much.
It’s too warm.
It’s too loud.
It’s too bright.
It’s too much.
He needs to scream
He needs to scream
He needs to scream
HE NEEDS TO SCREAM.
Logan began to cry.
At that point the others did in fact notice, their conversation slowly ground to a halt as they all turned towards the sound of the chocked sobs. Logan was crying, this was new. Logan was hyperventilating. This was also new.
Virgil was the first to do anything, having been shocked into silence for a few seconds. He’d never had to deal with another person’s panic attack, at least this is what he perceived it to be, he didn’t know what to do but he knew that having everyone staring at him couldn’t help so he got everyone to leave the room. Despite their initial reluctance, they all did so, seemingly accepting that Virgil of all people would know the appropriate course of action.
“Hey Lo, it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay but I need you to breath with me, alright?” he murmured. God he sounded stupid but it was the best that he could do.
Slowly he coaxed Logan into a steadier breathing pattern, it took about 10 minutes but that was to be expected. Honestly he was incredibly relieved, at one point he thought that Logan might pass out, he had looked even less present and his rocking turned more into swaying. Eventually however, it was just the two of them, in complete silence accept for the rhythmic pacing of deep breaths.
“Okay Lo, do you think that you can tell me what started this?” he said as he gently stroked the other man’s shoulder in an act of comfort.
Logan was silent, his brain was so tired, still trying to process everything that had just happened but he knew the answer. The lights. He couldn’t explain that to Virgil ,he’d loose all respect for him. Either way, just the idea of talking seemed like an insurmountably difficult task. His mouth was also extrodinarily dry. Perhaps Virgil knew sign language?
He signed the word for water, hoping the other man would get the gist.
…
No apparently not. Shit.
He instead sent a text.
“Ah alright, brb”, Virgil said casually and made for the exit, leaving Logan alone for a minute or two.
What on earth was he going to say. He’d have to out himself as a freak if he wanted to actually explain, he could just deny that anything happened but he doubted that Patton in particular would let him get away with that.
It wasn’t shameful to have Asperger’s or SPD, it wasn’t bad, it wasn’t shameful. He could tell them. He could. He knew that they’d be accepting, having been more than amicable when Virgil opened up about the depth of his anxiety. He could tell Virgil at least, that would be a start. Though there was always the chance that Virgil would reject him and call him all the words he’d been called as a child. He could just imagine it now. He explained himself and all of his neurocicies and Virgil threw the glass of water into his face and called him a “Spaz” or a “Retard” or just “Freak”. But no, that’s surely highly unlikely.
The door slowly opened in Virgil’s attempt not to startle Logan. However, he was not alone, Roman and Patton followed suite, a little timid in their walk, as if they weren’t sure if they should even be there. They both wore a look of complete worry on their faces, likely a ruse to hide their abject disgust, Logan theorised.
Do or die time. Frankly, Logan would be tempted to pick die. He doubted that that would be a genuine option presented to him however.
Luckily, Logan felt capable to talk now.
“So I suppose you all want an explanation to my pernicious behaviour?” Logan stayed with a degree of formality more advanced than his typical, it distanced himself from the more,,, touchy feely aspect of language or life.
It was a good coping mechanism for what would undoubtedly be a difficult conversation.
“Well only if you’re comfortable Logie…” Patton cooed. He tried to meet Logan’s eyes but the other had them firmly fixed on the threads of the lounge carpet.
“I don’t even know what pern-ish-eey-ous means” Roman chuckled to himself awkwardly, his mispronunciation of the word was obviously fake. This confused Logan greatly.
“Pernicious: adjective, causing insidious harm or injury.”
“Oh Logie no…”
“Look, teach”, Virgil interrupted Patton’s verbal whimper “you had like a panic attack or something, you didn’t harm anyone.”
“-Meltdown, I had a meltdown,” Logan interjected, sealing his fate… now he had to actually explain.
“What’s that?” Roman asked tentatively, as if he was metaphorically walking on egg shells.
How on earth was he supposed to explain, God, he’d never had to do that before. Logan knew so many words, he was a firm believer that there was a perfect word for every context but he was… drawing a blank. Completely and utterly, his mind, for the first time in a long time, was completely silent.
“Oh I know!” Patton’s ever bubbly nature was certainly not expected to be the next thing spoken, “That’s something that mostly autistic people experience although anyone can experience them…. Ah, my sister’s on the spectrum”
“You’re autistic?” something in Virgil’s voice was wrong. He sounded both concerned, relieved and sad all in one. “You never mentioned.”
Logan stood up from the fetal position he had, at some point, assumed. He straightened his tie, a reflex.
“Yes, I was diagnosed with Asperger’s when I was 7. No, I never mentioned it. I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Oh Logie, that’s super relevant”
“I’m sorry then.”
“You don’t have to be sorry but don’t you have any sensory needs or anything? I know my sister does though everyone is different I guess,” Patton trailed off at the end but his genuine tone of concern took Logan aback.
His only experiences with his diagnosis thus far was his family saying to never speak of it, that he was completely fine and needn’t have any support.
“Yes, I suppose… I get really overwhelmed with sensory input, mostly light and sound. I stim in private to cope.” It was so weird to be asked about it, Logan was, needless to say, shocked and subsequently struggled to give an adequate answer.
“Do you want me to turn the light off?” Virgil hesitantly gestured to the light-switch.
Every part of Logan that had been taught that his sensory disorder wasn’t a big deal, that he didn’t deserve and accommodations for it, that he was a freak and everyone would hate him for ever being different from the norm was screaming at him to say “No”.
“Yes… thank you.”
Then the room was plunged into darkness, some light coming in from the window but, due to sunset, not all that much, they could all still see each other comfortably but Logan’s eyes welcomed the change and even more so did his brain, everything was just clearer.
Everything was clearer.
Everything was better.
A huge weight had been lifted off his shoulder, he’d never even known it was there.
Logan felt certain in the knowledge that things were about to change drastically for the better. It was nice.
Everything was going to be better.