#literally have had two school induced meltdowns today

[kerosene-saint]

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun?

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Trauma Bonding, narcotics anonymous meetings, Strangers to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, meet-cute,

word count: 3.3K

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent and overly personal but i def recommend writing why spencer would love you as a form of therapy

read on ao3

In the blink of an eye, she was up and racing around her apartment. Her mental health was like a teeter-totter, and right now she was on her way to the top. Mania was creeping in; changing from just anxiety-induced butterflied to the feeling that she could jump off a building and survive.

That was never a good time. All she wanted was to either spend all her money, fuck a stranger or get high as shit. It made her legs jumpy and her ears ring and she couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much.

She threw on a sweater and jeans, her hair was up in a butterfly clip and she hastily threw on her fanny pack full of everything she needed as well as a big coat, and she then left her apartment. She got to the stairs before realizing she actually needed to lock the door.

Her hands shook and she tried to slide the key into the lock, dropping them as her neighbour rushed out of the room and startled her. “Sorry,” she heard him say.

She picked up her keys and turned to look at him, “can you help me? I can’t seem to stop shaking,” she asked as she held her keys towards him.

“yes, sure,” he rushed the words out as he walked towards her, only looking at the keys, never in her eyes. But that was okay, she was never a big fan of eye contact.

He placed her keys back in her hand and took a step back, “are you alright?” he asked.

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m going to find an NA meeting.”

“Do you have one in the area? I haven’t seen you around before?”

She shook her head, surprised that he was also an addict, he didn’t look like he’s ever even smoked weed.

“No, I moved in only a little while ago on a whim, but I think it’s time I got some support,” she said as they started to walk down the hallway together. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer,” he smiled softly. “I’m going to a meeting right now, actually, if you’d like to come? I won’t exactly be anonymous to you, but it’s a good one to go to if you just need one to fill the void until you find your preferred group.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.” She smiled at him this time as he held the door open for her. “So, have you lived around here for long?”

“For about a few years now.”

“The building is good then? I was a little hesitant but I needed to get away,” she said, this time holding the door for them to leave the building and turn down the street towards where she knew the subway was.

The moon should be out, she looked up but only sees buildings. It was the one thing she missed the most about not being in the country; seeing the stars and feeling like there was a reason to it all.

“Are you running from someone?” He asks as they start the walk down to the meeting.

“Myself,” she said softly. “I’m on disability and don’t drive and I lived in the middle of nowhere with my parents, well into my 20’s, and I needed a change so my parents surprised me by saving up money for a few month's rent and told me to follow my heart.”

“And you picked Virginia?”

“I stayed in Virginia, just moved into the city. I watch a lot of murder documentaries in my free time, I thought being near Quantico would introduce me to some interesting people, but I have yet to meet anyone from the FBI at all.”

She laughed to herself at how dumb it was that she wanted to meet a profiler like Holden Ford from Mindhunter, “either they are all very good at keeping their jobs secret or Virginia is a very large and densely populated area with a low percentage of FBI agents.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, slowing as he walked so he could look at her.

“2 months.”

“It took you two months to meet the FBI agent across the hall from you.”

“You’re kidding?” she said, stopping on the sidewalk abruptly. “I knew that apartment was calling me for a reason.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, are you really just coincidentally my neighbour or are you secretly spying on me because you have an evil plan to kill me and my co-workers?” he's completely serious, it's almost scary.

“No offence, Spence, but for a supposed FBI agent that’s a dumb question to ask,” she said, pointing finger guns at him, “you don’t think I’ll give up my cover that easily? Do you?”

He points a finger gun back at her, “technically, I’m a doctor.”

The two of them narrow their eyes at each other, slowly walking in a circle, still facing each other with their make-believe guns trying to hold back smirks. She lowered her ‘weapon’ first. “It’s okay, doctor, don’t worry. I’m not a spy just an idiot with an imagination.”

He giggled softly, “I’ve never felt this comfortable with someone this fast.”

“Well, you are with criminals a lot, right? That would be alarming if you bonded with them,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his as they walked. “But I feel the same. I actually haven’t talked to someone in person in forever.”

“No?”

“I do most of my work and socializing online,” She felt embarrassed, but in today’s day and age, it wasn’t that weird. “I’m not very good outside or with people.”

“If it wasn’t for my job, I don’t think I would go outside very often either. My co-workers are my only friends, they’re more like my family actually.”

“That’s so wonderful to hear, found family is very important,” her smile disappeared as she thought about how alone she was. “Um, can I ask what it is you do at the FBI?”

“Behavioural Analysis.”

“Holy shit," she gasps, knowing way too much about that unit thanks to fucking Netflix, "that’s what the BSU became right? Do you work with the really fucked up shit?” she asked softly.

He laughed, “oh yeah, I really do.”

“Do you share a lot at NA?”

“Kinda, I tend to ramble about facts when I’m nervous so sometimes my short talk becomes more like a ted talk and what was supposed to be just me saying I haven’t relapsed on Dilaudid becomes a lesson on how the human brain works,” he explained, rambling just like he said he would.

She nodded along as he spoke, “funny, that was also my drug of choice.”

“Liquid or oral?”

“Oral. I was given it after I had my appendix out when I was 17. They get you started real young now, big pharma has its hand in everyone's pocket,” she presses her lips together awkwardly, “it was rough.”

He hummed in agreement. “I was held captive by an unsub with multiple personalities. One personality drugged me till I died and the other one brought me back.”

“Spencer, Holy fuck?” she stopped and stared at him so incredibly concerned for someone who just met him. She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “I know I barely know you, but if you need someone to talk I’m literally always across the hall.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly as he looked back into her eyes. “The meeting is right there across the street, do you want a coffee first? The place beside it is amazing.”

She nodded and he took her hand, looking both ways before J-walking across the street with her to buy her a coffee and a snack. Maybe that would help her stop shaking, he looked like he worried about her and she wasn't used to that at all.

He didn’t talk at this meeting, he sat in the chair beside the group leader, she sat down across from him in the circle so she could focus. When the floor was opened up to new members, Y/N stood at the first chance she got.

“Hi I’m Y/N,” she said, to which she was welcomed by the crowd.

“I’m new to the city and looking for a new home group, not sure if I’ll stay here because I know Spencer outside of here but I really just needed to come today.”

She takes a deep breath as she thinks of how to start it, opting to just explain it and let the rant go where it may.

“I’ve never lived alone before and it’s incredibly hard to occupy my time without drugs. I still smoke weed to help me sleep at night but my addiction is with Dilaudid and then Benadryl a little after having surgery in high school. I don’t know if it’s my trauma, my disability or my Autism, maybe it’s my OCD, I really don’t know, but I just feel so useless and alone and boring and lonely, the drugs used to help but they don’t anymore and I really just don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

They all looked like they understood, small smiles grew all around the circle as she took a lookout at the crowd, “Thank you for letting me get that out.”

Everyone clapped as she sat back down and wiped a tear off her cheek.

The meeting ended shortly after that, Spencer walked from his seat in the circle to where she was sitting, reaching a hand out to help her to her feet. “For the record, I think you’re funny, smart, kind and pretty. And you don’t have to be alone anymore if you don’t want to be.”

She slapped her hand into his and stood up with purpose, “Did we just become best friends?”

“I believe we did.”

The walk home was much like the walk there. They traded facts, they flirted, they laughed, she pushed him into a pole at one point, by accident as they laughed. The two of them stopping to sit at a bus bench, laughing so hard she felt like she would pee her pants right then and there.

By the time they were back on their floor, it was well after midnight. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to meetings with you.”

“Oh, why?” he looked disappointed.

“Isn’t rule 13 that you’re not supposed to want to sleep with your group members when you’re healing?”

“Wanting to and doing it are two very different things,” he corrected her as he waited at his own door.

She smirked, “you’re right. Still don’t think I can go back with you, however.”

“I’ll probably have a case tomorrow, they normally take me out of town for at least a week, but when I get back, can I see you?” he asked lightly.

“Knock on my door when you get back,” she said before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.”

They waved from their doors before departing, excited by something that felt better than drugs.

—

120 hours later there was a light knock at her door, she knows exactly how long it’s been because she’s been counting and looking out the door at every noise for the whole time he’s been gone. Waiting for him like a wife whose husband went off to war, not knowing when their next correspondence would be.

“Coming,” she called, stopping to fluff her hair and straighten her glasses before she opened the door.

“Spencer!”

“Hi,” he said softly.

She took a moment to look him over, a little in shock at what she saw. He was in a plain t-shirt and track pants, he had not one, but two black eyes, bandages on his brow bone and scrapes all along his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy,” he giggled softly, rolling his eyes.

“Come in, let’s sit you down.” She worried, taking him by the elbow and helping him inside.

“I’m fine, really, I’m used to this.”

“Well I’m not,” she reminded him with a nervous pout, “am I allowed to ask about it or is it classified stuff?”

He sat on the couch and patted a seat beside himself so she would join him. He rested his arm against the back of the chair so that she could slide in beside him.

“Did you hear about the child abduction in Tampa?”

“Yeah? The two boys?”

“I was trying to talk the unsub down and he dropped the gun but he grabbed me as I turned him around and punched me in the face and we fell into the ditch and I luckily managed to flip over him and get his hands behind his back and cuffed faster than I ever have before.”

“You’re amazing,” she whispered.

He laughed, “if I really was, I would have waited for backup before talking to the guy.”

“I’ve always wanted to help other people get justice but not being able to go to school makes it hard to get a job doing anything meaningful,” she whispered, ashamed of the fact she wasn’t successful like most people her age.

“Our technical analyst was hired because she was an amazing hacker, they will hire anyone who is valuable.” He shrugs and watches her face light up at the idea.

“You know what, we have meetings all this week unless there’s an emergency, if you want I can show you around the office?” he offered. “It’s not illegal for you to pass by what I’m working on and notice something I missed.”

“Spencer, I don’t even know your last name and you’re inviting me to your government job? When just last week you asked, not so jokingly, if I was a secret agent trying to kill you and that you’ve been kidnapped before?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, and what can I say?” he said shyly, “I’m trying to find excuses to see you smile all the time.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, the tips of her fingers lightly resting on his purple and yellow bruised eyes. She leaned in slowly and kissed him on the lips, so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll break or turn into a frog… he was too good to be true.

“You can see me whenever you want, Doctor Spencer Reid…”

He kissed her again, letting his hands roam her back and she trailed her free hand down his chest. She pulled back slightly to throw a leg over him carefully and sit in his lap. Holding his face in her hands now, she peppered kisses over his bruised face.

She stopped to look at him, still holding his face in her hands as his hands now rested on her hips. “I really like you, Spencer.”

“Really?”

She looks at him carefully, analyzing his response and seeing the hurt that rested deep inside of him, “I take it you’re like me?”

“What does that mean?”

“You try to not get too involved with people because no one has ever shown you true genuine interest or love, and you never think you’ll find it anyway so you push away all small acts of kindness, thinking it’s friendly because then you can’t get your hope up, just to have that person drop them?” she explained herself in a whisper.

He nodded, “you get it.”

She kissed his lips again, and then over his cheek and up to his ear, “I do.”

He looked extra sad when she pulled away, she just held his face gently as she mirrored his puppy dog eyes. Communicating with their eyes, she knew he was okay and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so she smiled.

“Want to watch a movie?” She asks softly.

He nods, looking behind her to see she doesn’t have a tv in the living room. “How?”

“In my room, the TV is on my dresser if you don’t mind sitting in my bed?”

He shakes his head in a simple no, picking her up and taking her to her room. He knew where it was purely because her apartment was just his but backwards. She laughs, holding onto him tight as she rests her head on his shoulder.

He sets her down gently, watching her move up to the headboard and wait for him. They got under the blankets and she found the remote in the sheet before she cuddled into him.

“You’re really cuddly,” she complimented him as he wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He kissed the top of her head as a thank you.

“I think I’m going to end up falling in love with you, Spencer Reid,” she whispers the words, afraid of them more than his response.

“I beat you to it,” he whispers right back.

She shoots up, turning to look at him with surprise. “How?”

He looks at her like she grew two heads, “what do you mean how?”

“How did you fall in love with me? You don’t even know me?” She’s so confused, no one has ever loved her before and it’s a lot to take in.

“Y/N…” his face drops, his heart physically breaks in front of her. “I don’t know you, you're right. Not all of you, at least. I’m sure you have your hidden doors and locked cupboards but from the outside, I see you’re so beautiful, you’re radiant… your mind is lovely. You’re so kind, you’re so brave, you’re everything I wish I could be as charismatically as you are.”

She’s just swallowing over and over as she shakes her head and breathes through her nose, processing it. She’s breathing deeply then, staring off and she feels like she’s having a new kind of panic attack. A happier one, somehow?

“I don’t like myself, but if you like me I guess I must be pretty nice,” she smiles, accepting his praise and believing him. “Yeah. Thank you, Spencer.”

He smiles then, it’s cute and press-lipped and she swears he almost has dimples. His eyes are like honey and his lips are like roses. She leans in, kissing him and reaching a hand back to cup the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s the first person she’s kissed in a few years. They’re soft, peck after peck as they hold each other softly, eyes open as they watch each other experience the happiness of finding someone good, finally.

“I uh, I wanted to tell you I’m almost exactly everything you described yourself as in the meeting,” he whispers against her lips, the air touching her skin gently as she absorbs the words.

“What part? My diagnosis or my self-hatred?” She smiles, okay with either really.

“Almost both, I’m pretty hard to be around.”

She shakes her head, “I invited you in for a movie, not a pity party. You can tell me everything you hate right now and then we should just share the good parts okay? Brag about yourself. Tell me what you’re proud of.”

She was really serious, keeping a stern look on her face as she spoke. He nodded, “I’m anxious all the time, I’m always worried because I’ve never had anyone to worry about me. I don’t know how to be a real person really, all I do is drink coffee and solve crimes and I barely sleep. And the only time I was relaxed and okay is when I was on drugs.”

She nodded, “it fucking sucks, doesn’t it? Like why did we get stuck like this, I don't care about peaking in high school but didn’t we deserve some kind of love and support? I’ve never understood if souls and shit are real, why did mine pick this terrible meat suit and awful traumatic path?”

She’s crying because she’s angry and because she’s never said it to anyone before. He cries because she understands. She truly knows.

“I love you,” he announces. “Just because of that.”

Taglist: @blanchardsbk @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[justheretobreakthings]

Joy Is the Flag

Because there’s no way I wasn’t going to write an aro-ace Keith fic for Pride Month! Enjoy!

Read on AO3

“You doing okay there, kiddo?” Shiro asked Keith as they walked side by side through the crowd.

Keith nodded, silently, eyes not on Shiro but on the booths and decorations and people swarming around the two of them as they made their way through the crowd. Shiro felt a frown tugging at his lips as Keith’s arms tightened where they were crossed over his chest and leaned toward Shiro to avoid being knocked into by a group hurrying in the opposite direction.

Shiro had been utterly delighted when Keith had tentatively offered to come along to Pride this summer as an ally. He had invited him along the previous year, after Keith’s first school year at the Garrison, but the latter had turned the offer down. Shiro hadn’t been surprised. Keith wasn’t great at dealing with large amounts of sensory input; he tended to tense and become snappish when the cafeteria was too crowded, was known to lose his temper and devolve into shouting when the cadets ran emergency drills in the simulators, and during one particularly busy visitors’ day Shiro had sat with Keith in his silent and darkened dorm room for two hours while the latter cried his way through a sensory-overload-induced meltdown, just rubbing his back and not saying a word until Keith was back to normal and stubbornly behaved as if nothing had happened at all.

So a Pride festival, with its large crowds and loud music and bright colors and myriad decorations and fragrances from mobs of food booths and shouting and cheering and constant sound and movement - well, Shiro hadn’t really expected Keith to take him up on the offer to come along.

The fact that he had come this year meant a lot in terms of Keith getting out of his shell and facing new experiences, which, of course, gave Shiro a second thing to be proud about today. But he also stayed on his guard for Keith’s sake. The boy had a tendency to push himself beyond the point of brave and into purely hell-bent, regardless of whether it was any good for his health, mentally or physically, from staying awake for three days straight to work on a school project to attempting hoverbike stunts far beyond his skill level.

If the festival got to be too much, Keith wasn’t likely to show it, at least not in any obvious way. He would no doubt just try to grit his teeth and power through, shoving down any distress or frustration until there was no more room to shove any more and it would all explode out of him.

So he kept his eye on Keith as they strolled through the festival, pausing at craft stands to browse through the merchandise on display and peering into food booths and glancing over various non-profits’ posters and brochures. His own enjoyment at Pride was important too, sure, but Shiro couldn’t just turn off his big-brother-mode at the drop of a hat. If Keith was uncomfortable or unhappy, there was no way Shiro would be able to enjoy himself either.

Keith held up well, but about half an hour in Shiro noticed Keith starting to fade. His posture was growing more hunched, his shoulders gradually tensing, with every minute inside the noisy crowd, and he had started running his thumb over his knuckles, a subtle stim that Keith had adopted due to it being one that other people wouldn’t notice.

Shiro wasn’t other people; he noticed.

“Hey,” he called, leaning in toward Keith, not so much as to startle him but enough for him to be heard over the crowd and the speakers blasting music a few booths down. “I’m starting to get tired. Do you wanna go meet up with Adam, see if he needs any help?”

Keith’s shoulders sagged in relief as he nodded, and Shiro smiled at him before lightly taking him by the crook of his elbow and giving it a reassuring squeeze before starting to lead him through the crowd.

They made their way from the center of the festival and onto the outskirts, eventually passing through the roadblocks that signaled the edge of the fest and into the relative quiet of the streets that had been reserved for parade prep. Shiro kept his eyes peeled and his hand on Keith, trying to locate Adam. The Garrison’s Queer Student Alliance had a float in the parade, and as a student officer of the club, Adam had taken charge of the committee to build it this year. Shiro, busy with his own work and prepping for the Kerberos mission, hadn’t had the time to help out with it, and in fact didn’t even know what their float looked like.

That question was answered as he turned a corner and broke into a grin at the site of the giant foam space shuttle one block down.

He let out an impressed whistle as he approached the float, catching the attention of the handful of Garrison students standing on and around it, each of them decked out in their own pride gear. “Man, this came out nice,” Shiro said, eyes roving along the smooth surface of the shuttle and down to the float’s platform, which was bordered with an array of glittering planets painted in the color schemes of a variety of pride flags. “How long before I’m flying this thing out to Pluto?”

A door opened on the platform underneath the shuttle, and Shiro smiled at the bespectacled man who climbed out. “Shiro!” Adam said, straightening up and dropping down off the float. “What are you doing here?”

“Distracting you from your work,” Shiro answered. He stepped forward to greet him with a peck on the cheek before turning back to the float. “You did a really nice job on this.”

“You haven’t seen it in action yet,” Adam replied. “The main engine nozzle’s got a decoration of its own. You can see it in a sec, once someone gets the wiring fixed up.”

A girl Shiro recognized as a student from the year below his turned to scowl at Adam from where she was working at the tail end of the shuttle, a couple of visible grease stains on her pink, purple and blue shirt. “If everybody hadn’t been so careless while they were attaching the shuttle to the platform and moving the float out here, it wouldn’t need to be fixed at all!”

“Just finish it up before the parade starts!” The girl stuck her tongue out and adjusted her glasses before returning to work, and Adam turned back to Shiro. “So, hey, what’s with the change of plans? I thought we were going to meet after the parade. Coming in behind the scenes like this kinda ruins the magic, don’t you think?”

“I just missed you; can’t help it.” He leaned in closer, then, so that Keith, who was busy examining the planets painted on the side of the float with narrowed eyes, couldn’t hear, before continuing, “Keith was starting to get pretty tense with all the noise. Thought we’d go somewhere quiet, and this seemed like a good option.”

“Ah, okay.” Keith looked over toward the two of them, perhaps sensing that eyes were on him, and Adam grinned and waved his hand. “Hey, Keith! Enjoying the Pride fest?” Keith nodded before turning back to the float. “Least you could have done was get the kid some face paint or a pin or something,” Adam said to Shiro. “I know his all-black thing usually blends into crowds, but he’s sticking out like a sore thumb today.”

Shiro shrugged. “Eh, he’s already far enough outside his comfort zone as is. Think getting him all bright and colorful would be pushing it.”

“Mm. Fair enough. How’s that wiring looking over there, Veronica?” Adam called.

“Literally just finished, your royal highness,” the girl said, plopping down to sit on the float and wiping the back of her hand over her forehead. “And thanks, by the way, for being oh so fucking patient.”

“We’re on a time crunch,” Adam said. “Can’t help it. All right, let’s give it a test run.”

“Fine, whatever,” Veronica said, stretching her arms out before leaning back to fiddle with something under the nuzzle. “Everyone stand back, there’s like a forty percent chance this thing’s gonna blow. Kidding,” she added in response to the pointed glare Adam shot her. “God, you’re so serious. Ready?”

There was a little metallic thunk, then lights in the windows and along the sides of the shuttle switched on. A whirring began to sound in the engine nozzle, and as a bright light inside of it clicked on, lengths of multicolored fabric started to unfurl from inside and dance behind the shuttle. At a distance, the effect made it look as if the shuttle were emitting rainbow flames.

The Garrison students let out applause and a couple of whoops, Shiro joining in. Adam simply sighed in relief. “Thank God,” he said. “Can you imagine how bad it would have looked if students of the most prestigious space program on the continent couldn’t even get a parade float operating correctly?”

“I’m sure it would have been the scandal that rocked the world,” Shiro said.

“I hear your sarcasm, and I must say, I don’t appreciate it.”

“Aw, come on, Adam,” he said, slinging an arm around his shoulder and gently rubbing his arm. “It came together great, didn’t it? You worry too much.”

Adam shrugged, giving Shiro a little smile. “Every couple has their thing. Apparently ours is worrying.”

“Damn it. I was really hoping ours would be piloting.”

“It’s a close match.” He patted Shiro’s hand before slipping out of the half-hug. “All right, I’ve got a couple things to double check before the parade starts. Text me where you’re standing to watch the parade once you’re there, and I’ll join you when we finish, okay?”

“Will do,” Shiro replied, and they exchanged a quick kiss before Shiro turned back to Keith. He was still standing off to the side, silently examining the float. “Hey, kiddo,” Shiro said. “Ready to head back to the festival soon, find a good viewing spot?”

“... I don’t recognize any of these planets,” Keith said after a pause.

“Hm?” Shiro looked over at the planets painted along the side of the float, and he grinned. “Oh, no, these aren’t actual planets. They just took the color schemes and patterns of different pride flags and made them into planets. See?” He tapped a finger against a rainbow-streaked planet on the corner of the float.

Keith’s brow furrowed as he looked at the rainbow planet, and then moved his gaze along the others. “But, um, there’s - there’s a lot?”

“Outer space is a big place, you know.”

“No, no, I mean - I mean, isn’t it just, like, four? L, G, B, and T?” He strode over to turn the corner of the float and glance at the other side. “There’s enough here to cover the whole float, and they’re all different colors, so, how…?”

Shiro couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape him, which he quickly swallowed back at the scowl Keith shot him. “Sorry, I wasn’t making fun,” he said. “Sometimes I just forget that to a lot of people, this is new stuff. It’s fine. See, those tend to be the four, like, primary identities in the acronym, but it’s not actually just LGBT, it’s LGBT-plus.”

“Plus-what?” Keith asked.

“Plus anything that’s a marginalized sexuality or gender, really. Didn’t you notice any of the other flags while we were walking through the fest?”

“I dunno. Wasn’t really looking for them.”

“Well, there’s plenty out there. Like, this flag here - ” He pointed to a planet that was shaped like Saturn, pink at the top of the center sphere melting into blue, with bright green rings. “This is polysexuality, which is attraction to multiple genders, but not all. And this one - ” He gestured to a crater-laden planet striped with yellow, white, purple, and black. “This is non-binary, for when a person doesn’t identify as strictly male or female. Right here - ” He pointed to a planet shadowed to look like it was fading between stripes of black, gray, and white, leading to a large splotch of purple at the bottom. “This one is asexual, which is for when you don’t feel sexual attraction.”

Shiro turned the corner of the float and started on the next row of planets. “This is pansexual, which means - ” He paused and glanced up, realizing that Keith hadn’t followed him around to this side of the float. “Hey, Keith? You with me?” Keith, though, didn’t look up. Instead, he was staring at a spot on the side of the float as if mesmerized. Shiro sidled back over to see what had him so transfixed, and found him still staring at the asexual-themed planet. “Bud, you all right?”

“Asexual,” Keith repeated, moving his mouth slowly and deliberately as if he were trying a new food for the first time. “That’s - that’s a thing?”

“Mm-hm,” Shiro replied with a nod. “Think the pride club at the Garrison’s got a good handful of ace members - though, haven’t been all that involved in it this year what with all the Kerberos stuff, so I couldn’t give you numbers. There’s also, let’s see - ” He scanned the planets before finding the one where the grayscale ended with two stripes of green and pointing at it. “There we go, aromantic. Same concept, but with romantic attraction instead of sexual, see. Some people are both, some people are one or the other.” He looked back over at Keith, who had edged toward the aromantic planet Shiro had pointed to, that same fascination still on his face. “Why? Is something wrong, Keith?”

Keith shook his head slowly, letting a beat of silence pass before softly saying, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was - it was a - a thing.”

“Yeah, understandable,” Shiro said. “I guess they’re not identities that get a whole lot of attention. Same goes for quite a few of these, really. But, yeah, there you go. Keith?” He tilted his head. “Hey, something else on your mind, or…?”

Keith finally pulled his gaze away from the painted planet to turn to Shiro, and the latter’s brows shot upward in surprise at the dewy shine in Keith’s eyes. Frantically he tried to figure out what was distressing Keith badly enough to make him tear up. “Keith, you okay? Is it still too crowded here? Do you, um, do you want me to take you back to the apartment?”

Keith shook his head. He opened his mouth, let out a single choked sound, closed his mouth and swallowed, then tried again. “It’s just that - it’s just - ” He took a breath. “I thought it was just me.” His voice was soft as he finished, practically a whisper.

Shiro blinked at him before glancing back over at the float. “Wait, you mean...”

“Or, I - I thought maybe it was - that something didn’t work right, or got numbed, or - or something,” Keith continued quietly, and his thumb was moving again, that twitch along his knuckles. “Like because of - because of everything that - all the stuff with mom and - and - and the homes, and stuff, that it kinda… it messed me up…”

“Oh, gee, hey, hey, Keith,” Shiro stammered out as one of the tears in Keith’s eye began spilling over and down his cheek. Quickly he wrapped Keith into a hug, mostly as a means of comfort, partly because Keith would definitely want to keep his face hidden now that he was crying; it was enough of a struggle for Keith to even cry in front of Shiro, let alone out in public with total strangers about. “Hey, shh, it’s all right,” he mumbled, bringing a hand to Keith’s back to rub. “Just getting a little overwhelmed, huh?” Keith lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “So, you’re saying you think you might be aromantic? Asexual? Both?”

“Both,” Keith answered, voice muffled by the way his face was buried in Shiro’s chest.

Shiro kept up the hug and the soothing, but inside his mind was awhirl. Keith had just come out to him. Hell, Keith had just come out to himself, too. How had Shiro not noticed before? How had they not talked about this? He searched his memories, trying to figure out if there was something that should have tipped him off. Keith had never shown any interest in any of his classmates that way, had never come to Shiro to ask for any advice about dating or sex. But Keith was a private person, and besides, it was much harder to notice the absence of something than the presence.

Still, the fact that this sort of revelation had reduced Keith to tears the way it had suggested that this was something that had been bothering him, had been weighing on his mind. And he had been getting so much better lately about coming to Shiro to talk about things that bothered him. So it seemed a little strange that Keith hadn’t given Shiro any indication that he was struggling with his sexuality, that he felt the need to keep this to himself.

Unless…

“Keith?” Shiro said, pulling. “You know… if you do feel that those are a fit for you - if you think you’re aromantic or asexual - that’s not a bad thing. It isn’t something wrong with you.” Keith didn’t reply, so Shiro continued. “It isn’t, Keith. It’s just an orientation, like any other. Just as legitimate as being gay or straight or bi or - or anything. It’s real, and it’s okay. It’s good, Keith, it’s a good thing, to be able to learn these things about yourself, to be comfortable with them.”

He moved his hands to Keith’s shoulders and leaned down to be at eye level with him. “Are you okay with it, Keith? Do you think it’s a good fit for you?”

“I… don’t know,” Keith answered. “I guess it… makes sense… but I don’t want - I don’t know if - ” He sniffed and swiped the back of his hand over his nose. “It’s - it’s probably stupid, it’s stupid, but - but I just had hoped - you know, I’ve had, like, you know, foster parents and stuff in the past, who said - who told me I was, um, I was… unlovable…” He said the word softly, intently, as if it were a particularly filthy swear. “But I had been hoping that… that they were wrong…”

A heat flared up in Shiro’s gut, one that had gradually become familiar in the time he had known Keith. Keith had given him occasional glimpses into his life in the foster care system, and every time he mentioned one of the bad ones, Shiro would feel himself growing closer and closer to wanting to strangle anyone who had ever caused Keith any amount of harm. And if this was the sort of message one of them had been instilling in Keith, then it was no wonder that he had kept it hidden, and no wonder that he’d thought this was some sort of failing on his part.

“Keith,” Shiro said. “Look at me.” Keith did, blinking wide, damp eyes up at him, and Shiro said, firmly and deliberately, “I love you.”

Keith blinked, brow wrinkling. “What do you - ?”

“I love you,” he repeated. “So if you need hard and fast evidence that you’re not unlovable, there it is. I could not possibly have asked for a better little brother than you, and I love you for it. And you being aroace doesn’t change that, okay? Not one bit. Love doesn’t have to be romantic, or sexual, and not feeling that type of attraction doesn’t mean you’re not perfectly capable of other types of love, and being loved in return. Okay? You are loved - you deserve to be loved. Don’t you dare believe anybody who tells you otherwise.”

Keith was silent, his lower lip trembling as he squeezed his crossed arms tighter around him.

“And it’s perfectly all right if you don’t like the labels, if you don’t think they fit or if you don’t want to use them. You don’t have to. But just know - ”

“I love you too,” Keith interrupted. “And I - I like them. The labels, I mean. They’re… I have to get used to them, I guess, is the thing, but, um, they - they make sense. They fit.”

“Okay.” Shiro clapped his hand firmly on Keith’s shoulder and smiled. “Okay. That’s good, that’s good.” He paused, then asked, “Are you still feeling up for staying at the festival?” Keith nodded. “In that case, we should probably find our spots to watch the parade. It’ll be starting soon.”

“Right,” Keith said, nodding again, and he obediently followed Shiro as they turned back toward the festival.

The curbs of the streets were growing crowded as the parade’s start time approaching and people were clamoring to secure a spot where they could see it all. Shiro and Keith searched two blocks before they found enough space on a set of bleachers set up at one of the street corners where they could squeeze in together.

Shiro noticed as they took their seats that Keith had begun to stim again amid the stress of the crowd, this time knocking his knuckles rapidly against his forearms. He watched thoughtfully for a moment. Then, he tapped Keith’s shoulder and leaned in to say, “You mind saving my spot while I grab something real quick?”

“Okay,” Keith said, and Shiro gave him a reassuring squeeze before slipping out of the bleachers and making a beeline for one of the merchandise booths he had browsed earlier.

He returned a couple minutes later, slid back into his spot, and handed his new purchase to Keith. “Here.”

Keith stared down at the object in his hand. A flag, a foot long when unfurled, on a little wooden stick. It was two-sided, its stripes bearing the same colors as those of the planets Shiro had shown him on the float, the one with the purple stripe on one side, the green on the other. “What’s this for?” he asked.

“If you want it,” Shiro said. “You can keep your hands busy this way, and well, most everyone here’s got a bit of decoration, so I thought maybe you’d like some too. Or you can just pocket it for now, if you don’t want to have it out. Your pick.”

Keith continued staring at it, but he didn’t make any move to put it away either, and Shiro’s attention was drawn away from him when cheers went up through the crowd and he looked to see the first of the floats making its way down the street.

For several minutes the parade had his full attention, and he watched with rapt attention as the first couple of floats passed by, followed by a dance troupe. He managed to pull his attention away from the little procession of cars that followed them, and he couldn’t help but grin at the sight of his little brother, arm up as he waved his little flag in the air with as much fervor as all the other celebrators in the crowd, and with a small, rare smile on his face.

[wopersonal]

ON MELTDOWNS

I ended up tanslating a few of the articles I’ve written on the subject of autism into English, and I figured I might share them on here, too... ON MELTDOWNS As Wikipedia tells us: " A nuclear meltdown [...] is a severe nuclear reactor accident that results in core damage from overheating. […] It has been defined to mean the accidental melting of the core of a nuclear reactor, however, and is in common usage a reference to the core's either complete or partial collapse. A core meltdown accident occurs when the heat generated by a nuclear reactor exceeds the heat removed by the cooling systems to the point where at least one nuclear fuel element exceeds its melting point. This differs from a fuel element failure, which is not caused by high temperatures. A meltdown may be caused by a loss of coolant, loss of coolant pressure, or low coolant flow rate or be the result of a criticality excursion in which the reactor is operated at a power level that exceeds its design limits. Alternatively, an external fire may endanger the core, leading to a meltdown."

While autistic people are hardly radioactive, the term is often found in the context of autism, and with good reason.

Reading through the support groups, I often find parents telling about their children's "tantrums". The first thing I ask them always is: Are those tantrums?

Or are they meltdowns?

It's a vital distinction. They have different causes; different effects; different ways to handle them.

Meltdowns can be loud or quiet; they may come with aggression against others, or auto-aggression; there may be screaming, or dead silence and withdrawal. Sometimes, parents tell me their autistic children had never had a meltdown in their lives. I'd like to envy those children for their stress-free environment, but I'm afraid that, instead, the parents are mentally stuck in the stereotype of equating "meltdown" with screaming and hitting, never recognising the process in its other manifestations.How and when do meltdowns happen?

Meltdowns are the ultimate stress reaction. Put into the same situation and exposed to the same stimuli, an autistic and a non-autistic person will show different stress levels. Specifically, the autistic participant in this experiment will have the higher one. That's because we lack filters. We perceive everything more loudly, more brightly, more extreme. We rarely get a break where our brains can simply tune out the world around us. Quite often, non-autistic people around us often will not let us use what methods we have to secure such breaks sufficiently. And even when we get those breaks, we're still under more stress than a non-autistic person the rest of the time, just from living. From being in this world. From having to deal with constant input from the outside.

No, that is no one's fault indeed.

Stress levels can be measured. There are certain blood markers for them, for example.

By the way, stress hormones boost the body, make it ready to fight or flee, and increase attention to sensory input. "Increasing attention" makes the issue worse for us. We already perceive more than we can process. "Ready to fight or flee" means that we metabolise a number of substances more quickly than we can top them up by eating. We tend to develop deficits, making us feel generally less well than we could be feeling, which doesn't exactly make handling autism any easier.

But that is a different story to be told on a different day.

What do stress hormones do in the body?

Adrenalin and cortisol are our two prime "suspects". They accelerate heartbeat, increase blood pressure, increase muscle tone and raise blood glucose levels. Breathing speeds up. Digestion is temporarily shut down to avoid wasting energy.

That isn't the most pleasant situation one could be in, but if a person's stress level continues to rise further… and further… and further… it will sooner or later hit the danger cap. The body registers an excess of stress hormones. Being a body, and as such not very good at thinking independently, it has only one way to interpret this: it's facing an acute, existential threat.

It isn't a conscious decision. Imagine a switch being flipped, or a bucket running over if you keep filling in water. It doesn't matter if the bucket wants to hold the water.

Flipping that switch turns off thought. There may not be any danger at all, objectively speaking. It doesn't matter. The body has switched into survival mode. Thinking would be detrimental. It would slow down reactions. In this situation this sort of stress reaction is meant for, it could make the difference between life and death.

Conscious control is gone. Depending on situation and personal nature, a lot of things can happen now: people may withdraw into themselves ("playing dead") and fail to react to anything; they may run (flight) or even wildly attack anything that comes close and might touch them – verbally or physically.

What then?

Excessive stimulus has caused the issue, and every further stimulation – that is, every word spoken, every touch - will make the situation worse. (Note that for some people it's the other way around and specific types of touch maybe helpful. Please always make sure to ask the autistic person in question. Don't do so while the meltdown is underway, though. They can't answer you then, and if they could it wouldn't make much sense.).

Because the body has already mobilised everything it has, the person suffering a meltdown may exhibit strength or speed that they can barely dream of in any other situation.

Immense amounts of energy are burned up in a short period of time. Then it's over. The body is exhausted, its reserves are gone, and the only thing it can do is calm down. In the situation for which this reaction was once intended, the danger is now either gone, by destroying or escaping it, or will otherwise kill the person in question once they "run out of steam".

For today's autistic people, it just means that the meltdown is over. They can calm down. They return to a responsive state. They are deeply, utterly exhausted. Many of us will sleep after a meltdown, and may do so unusually deeply or long.

Some report that they feel more relaxed after a meltdown. Itr's logical. The body has just burned up everything that can cause tension. Yes. An autistic adult may come to the conclusion that, in some exceptional circumstances, provoking a meltdown is the way to go.

In a child – well, don't do that. Let me explain why in a moment.

By the way, the high stress level prevents the formation of (reliable) memoires. Many of us do not remember a meltdown. The only thing they keep form it is a great fear of the trigger, and of the condition as such. Why? Because what you experience during a meltdown is, quite literally, a mortal fear.

Do only autistic people experience meltdowns?

The short answer is: no. Generally, you can provoke a meltdown in anyone by exposing them to sufficient amounts of stress.

It's just a lot harder in a non-autistic person. You'd need a lot more stress to get them to the same level. That is: most of the time, you need an actually life-threatening situation.

The usual suspects: Acute (natural) disaster Torture. Soldiers in the war zone

Those are situations in which a "standard-issue human" may experience a meltdown first-hand.

And that means that an autistic child going through daily meltdowns is actually suffering the same amounts of stress that a soldier may experience in active battle duty while under fire.

Every day.

At school, and at home, in an environment that should be the safest there is.

Is it still surprising that so many autistic people fulfil every diagnosis criterion for PTSD as adults?

Therefore, the basic rule is: Meltdowns are a thing to be avoided.How can I tell the difference between a meltdown and a temper tantrum?

It's actually simply. Does the raging stop when you offer your child the thing it wanted? If so, it wasn't a meltdown.

That method may not always be desirable, or even feasible.

Another method that has a relatively low risk of a false negative: can you distract? Offer your child a glass of water. Say something that has zero relevance for the situation. Do something entirely silly/stupid/etc. If your kid's in a meltdown, they won't react to that (there may be a residual risk of a false positive in which the child in a tantrum just doesn’t care anymore.)

Underlying literature for the comparison to NTs:

Cognitive Performance and Mood associated with combat-like stress in Aviation, Space and Environmental Medicine; Severe decrements in cognition, function and mood during simulated combat (Biological Psychiatry); Stress induced deficits in special operations soldiers, idem. Symptoms of dissociation in humans experiencing acute, uncontrollable stress (American Journal of Psychiatry);

On hormone and transmitter levels:

Relationships among Plasma Dehydroepiandrosterone Sulfate and Cortisol Levels, Symptoms of Dissociation and Objective Performance in Humans Exposed to Acute Stress (Archives of General Psychiatry), Relationship among plasma cortisol, catecholamines, neuropeptide Y and human performance during exposure to uncontrollable stress (Psychosomatic Medicine), Plasma Neuropeptide Y concentration in humans exposed to military survival training und Hormone Profiles in Humans experiencing Military Survival Training (both Biological Psychiatry).