“I’m going to lie down in my bed. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. If you do, I’ll do my best not to touch you.” I spin around, heading for my room.
The door pulls open easily, and Damian’s arm appears over my head, holding it open while I step inside.
Well, it’s still as small as it was the last time I was in here.
“Do you have a preference on which side of the bed you want?” I ask, turning around and taking a step back to avoid touching his chest.
“No,” he says gruffly. He sure does climb in on the right side, though.
I smile, shaking my head.
Sometimes Damian is cute without meaning to be.
I slide off my shoes and carefully climb onto the edge of the left side. There are a ton of pillows at the top, and Damian yanks a couple down, making a line between us.
He grumbles under his breath about hating his life, and I frown. He looks so defeated as he slams his hand into the pillow.
My chest aches with the urge to soothe his discomfort.
Being an omega can be hard when someone is upset or uncomfortable. Their emotions seem to bleed into me until I’m experiencing them right along with them.
If Damian was anyone else, I’d give in to the urge to physically comfort him. It’s how omegas soothe others, and it’s coded into my DNA, even if I wish it wasn’t.
It’s difficult, but I hold back the urge to stretch over and brush the hair out of his face. Rolling onto my side to face him, I grab my pillow instead.
“Is this any better?” I can still hear the television from out in the living room, but most of the noise has lessened enough I can tune it out. Then again, that’s me, and I don’t have sensory issues to the level Damian has them.
“I’m fine,” he says with a sigh. “My mom warned me this was going to suck. She did it nonstop when she was a kid. I don’t know how it didn’t drive her completely insane.”
When I went to summer camp at Damian’s Way, it was the first year they opened the program to the public. I’m still surprised my dads let me go.
I remember seeing Damian and wanting to be close to him.
Ravvi was always laughing and deflecting any attention off Damian. Not in a bad way. It’s clear how much he loves his little brother, and he was good at putting the focus on himself.
I could sense that Damian was upset one afternoon. My system was convinced that I could soothe him, so I leaned on the wall next to him.
He stared me straight in the eyes and said, “Please don’t talk to me right now.”
I only wanted to see if he was okay, and itreallyhurt my feelings.
I stayed with Bellamy at Love’s house that night, but Lyric came over and explained how she and Damian are neurodivergent. She gave me a breakdown of why sometimes he might say something that could come off as hurtful. In reality, he’s overstimulated. Any extra talking or touching can be too much for him to process, so he’s very direct about what he needs in the moment.
After that summer, I went home and did a ton of research about autism. I wanted to be sure I could make our future summers together easier on both of us.
Logically knowing all that information doesn’t help as Damian studies my face with a sourpuss look.
This is the room everyone agreed I should take, but somehow, I feel like I’m invading on his space.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask. “You’re kinda giving me a death glare…”
“No.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “I’ve got my own quirks. My sisters and I are close in age. I can’t stand it when they touch my stuff or borrow things without permission. That’s life. We all have idiosyncrasies.”
“Mine just happen to be a lot worse than everyone else’s,” Damian says, sounding defeated.
“I’m pretty sure no one else is as worried about it as you are,” I say, frowning. That might not have been the best way to put it.“We all obsess about stuff in our heads, but chances are, no one else is thinking about the same thing you are.”
