But having it in writing helps
Now, do you want cocoa?
Reid
Yeah okay
Thank you
It doesn’t take long to make our drinks.The process of heating the milk to the perfect temperature and getting the right ratio of chocolate to vanilla is basically muscle memory, given how often I make it.I bring my mug to my spot in the living room, then pad down the hall to Reid’s room.The door is cracked, so I slowly push it open and walk in.
The room is dark except for the small light from his eReader and the outside streetlights.But I can still make him out on the bed.He’s buried underneath his grey weighted blanket, with only his face peeking out.His eReader is propped up on the tablet stand with the remote page turner I got him for Christmas clipped to the side.I’d almost say he looks cute, all cozied up in bed reading, if it weren’t for the slight discomfort still lingering in his features.He looks a lot calmer, for sure, but his brow is still pinched in the middle, and his eyes have this far-off look in them.
“Here’s your hot chocolate,” I whisper, not wanting to disturb the quiet space too much.I set the mug down, then turn to leave, but stop when he makes a soft sound.“Yeah?”I ask, turning back.
His hands come out from under the blanket and reach for his phone.He types something quickly, then my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Reid
would you stay?
I look up.“You sure?”
He nods and tries for a tentative smile before typing again.
Reid
Yes.I still don’t know that I want to be touched but I want to see if just sitting together would help.
We could watch something.
He wants my company, even when he’s feeling his worst.I don’t know why, but this feels huge.I bite back what is probably a stupid grin and nod.“Let me go get my mug.”
A few minutes later, I’m settled on Reid’s bed a respectable distance away from him.It occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve spent longer than a minute in his room.It’s completely different from mine—for one, he has a television, and I don’t.But it’s also cluttered.There are Funko Pop figurines and assembled Lego sets sitting on floating shelves all around the room, stacks of books on the floor, and a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner.But it doesn’t feel messy.I’m sure if I checked, I would find barely any dust on anything.It seems more like he designed his room so that all the things that make him happy could completely surround him.It’s his safe space, and the fact that he invited me to spend time in it too makes me feel embarrassingly happy.
He queues upHeartstopper, then looks at me for confirmation before pressing play.I’ve never seen the show, but it’s one of Reid’s comfort shows, so I’m content to watch with him.One episode in, I can see why he loves it.It’s fucking adorable.And relatable.
As the second episode starts, I feel the mattress shifting.I look over to find Reid scooting closer, pressing our shoulders together.After another minute, his head dips to rest on my shoulder.I smile to myself and am overcome with a strange impulse to kiss the top of his head.It’s not the only time I’ve felt it—I wanted to do the same thing the snow day we spent in the blanket fort.I didn’t, of course.Platonic cuddling is one thing, but platonic head kisses may be taking things too far.Plus, now that he's shut down, a new form of touch probably wouldn’t be welcome, anyway.Instead, I rest my head on top of his, and focus on the show.
We’re on the third episode now, and I’m so engrossed with it that I don’t see Reid’s hand sliding out from under the weighted blanket until his fingers are brushing mine.My stomach flips, which must just be surprise.Or maybe the secondhand giddiness over Nick and Charlie’s first kiss—because you don’t need to be queer to see how sweet it is.Except there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind that doesn’t accept either of those explanations.I shove that away, though, and calmly flip my hand palm up in invitation for Reid.After a beat, he slides his palm over mine, then after another, laces our fingers together, almost like he’s testing how much physical contact he can bear at the moment.
I’m more than happy to let him explore that at his own pace.I’m just glad that I seem to be helping him.I give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he squeezes back, a silent thank you.
Chapter 5
Reid
Song: Bloom by The Paper Kites
Wakinguphasalwaysbeen difficult for me.When I got my autism diagnosis, it made sense.It’s not that I’m lazy; I struggle with transitions, at least the small ones like getting out of bed or going from one task to another.I have an especially hard time starting my day the morning after a meltdown or shutdown—and yesterday evening I had a miserable combination of both.
But this morning, as the sun streams through my window into my eyes, I’m alert almost immediately because something is different.Actually, three things are different.
One: the sun is shining into my room, which means I didn’t close the curtains last night like I always do when I’m getting ready to sleep.
Two: I’m not under the comforter and instead just have my weighted blanket over me, again indicating I didn’t do my nighttime routine last night.
But most importantly, three: there is an arm draped over my waist.
