#yes they are autism x adhd why u ask

[lemoneyshipz]

list of dreamling headcannons i have, some may or may not be me projecting:

Dream likes food that are sweet, soft and small enough that he can hold and nibble on, like fruit pieces, brownie squares, soft cookies, small cakes and pastries

Hob is not myopic but slightly hyperopic and would need reading glasses to grade and do paperwork

Dream dissociates, like a LOT, and it get worse after his imprisonment, most of the time he (and other ppl) doesn’t even realize it but he would space out, go on autopilot and become less responsive until someone (hob) pulls him out of it

Hob would collect random trinkets and then forgets about them, ranges from small jewelry pieces (some really old at this point), toy figurines, smoothed out porcelain shards, corks, or cool rocks, and those would piles up in his flat until Matthew steals them again for his own collection, Hob rarely notices, and when he do he doesn’t mind

Hob keeps up with his memes and slangs but would mix them up bc he literally cannot keep track of their timeline, like these tumblr posts? these are Hob

Hob doesn’t know this but he’s tiktok famous bc of videos of him ranting about Shakespeare or mixing up his slangs or just reveals the craziest of life stories, ppl in the comments like “👀 is he single” and his student reply “no he’s married to a hot goth who visits sometimes”

Hob doesn’t teach history bc they get soo many things wrong and he can’t stand it, he teaches classic literature analysis instead and shares random history or other random facts he learned over the years in class.

Hob has a hard time falling asleep without cuddling something in his arms, usually its a pillow but it’s now replaced by Dream. Dream doesn’t sleep but he appreciates the cuddles and it allows him a couple of hours of peace and quiet to blank out when needed.

Matthew was Hob’s best man (he had a tiny collar and bowtie and everything), Lucienne was Dream’s librarian of honor, Fiddler’s Green officiated the wedding and Death walked Dream down the aisle. Time & Night were not invited but Calliope was

They had their wedding in front of the new inn but held a separate celebration in the dreaming so all the lil dreams and nightmares can be a part of it

They both ADORE Ghibli films, the classic, whimsical fairytale/fantasy is right up Dream’s alley not to mention the artistry and all the dreams they have inspired

[thesaltyace]

big rant/ramble below, you can safely ignore and move on to the next post in your feed.

Urgh

I shared the results of that autism screener with a quasi-friend who I thought would be "safe" (we used to work together and we connected over his being gay and me being visibly queer) but his response was blergh

Everyone has hints of autism.

okay yeah but this isn't just *hints* of autism. I'm answered yes to symptoms I've had since I was a kid that I've learned to mask or work around as an adult. But I still struggle with them.

He pointed out that he sees me as more ADHD than ASD.

Yeah, fair, and I'd need to see a professional to try to distinguish if my symptoms are ADHD, ASD, or both.

You don't hit the three prongs needed for a diagnosis.

But.... but I do. And the stuff I dealt with as a kid is still stuff I deal with today. I just mask it better. A short and not exhaustive list:

As I kid I had trouble interacting with peers. I didn't have friends, really. I didn't know how to make friends and I didn't try terribly hard to. I acquire friends when someone else "adopts" me and decides that we are friends. And once I became an adult, I have almost never had friends of my own - I share a friend group with my spouse who we're primary connected to through him. I'm okay with that. Maintaining a friendship entirely on my own power sounds impossible and exhausting.

I was okay with not having friends, I liked being alone, but my mom insisted on me being social. She made me join things so that I would have a list of people to invite to parties. I'd honestly have preferred a day of doing stuff I like or just a couple friends. As an adult, I want to be alone on my birthday. I will celebrate with certain friends, separately, usually over a quiet meal. That's it.

I had trouble understanding sarcasm and figurative speech. Like, I understand it now but I still think most figurative speech is annoying. I've been told the way I deliver sarcasm is weird, too.

I liked memorizing movies and quoting them start to finish, I thought it was fun but everyone else thought it was weird. I continued to do this into adulthood but I only quote aloud when I'm alone. Alamo Drafthouse quote-alongs are the BEST. I don't do this with every movie, either, just ones I really like.

Okay actually I also liked to listen to the same album or, in some cases, the same song over and over until I was sick of it (and sometimes even after that point). I mean, just endlessly looping on repeat. Not interspersed with other songs. I do this as an adult a LOT because it's easier with headphones to do this without annoying everyone else around you. Like, often it's fine for me to just put a playlist on shuffle, but I get into Moods where I just want the one album/song over and over. Yesterday I listened to Wellerman about 50 times in a row and only stopped because I had to get up and do something else and that song wasn't "good" for whatever I got up to do.

My special interest as a kid was cats. Literally everything cats, all the time - I sought out obscure facts and could tell you the difference between similar species, and wanted cats involved in literally everything I did. Adults laughed it off as childhood obsession. I was also pretty obsessed with the solar system. I thought asking my peers, as a trivia question, which of Jupiter's moons had its own asteroid (Io, in case you were wondering) was appropriate and interesting and was confused that they didn't know that. That was in fifth grade.

I watched the weather channel for fun. I would watch it for hours and absorb the weekly forecast info just... for fun? I never used it, could never tell you if you should dress a certain way or bring an umbrella or whatever. Everyone thought it was weird.

I was a know-it-all and literally could not stop myself from bluntly correcting people who were wrong. Didn't know or care that it was "rude". I'm still that way but I've learned how to sometimes swallow the urge long enough to find a more tactful way to point it out (but often fail).

I could read on my own before kindergarten, used vocabulary beyond what one would expect for my age, and had a special interest in spelling and grammar throughout my school years. I did not understand how other people weren't interested in learning about it and getting it right. I read at an undergrad level by 4th grade.

I hated loud noises and often covered my ears to block out irritating sounds. I could also hear high pitched noises that even other kids didn't seem to hear (or at least weren't bothered by them). Too much noise sent me into an internal meltdown, I'd just kinda shut down because I couldn't deal with it.

Textures and pressure on my skin bothered the absolute fuck out of me - sock seams, certain fabric materials, socks that weren't equally elastic, one shoe tighter than the other, tags.... all of that. (Also, fun anecdote I just unlocked - when I was 4 or 5 my grandmother started letting me use the soft silk sleep shirt she had as a young woman because I preferred it to anything else. Soft, smooth, no irritating qualities. Bliss. I wanted to wear it all the time.)

Don't get me started on food. Until I was in COLLEGE I mostly subsisted on pasta with either butter or alfredo sauce and chicken. I would eat other things, but pasta and/or chicken was (and still is) my biggest safe/comfort food. I'd eat other stuff mostly if I could control the balance of ingredients, get it made plain, or could confirm the texture wouldn't be offensive (so, like... plain burgers, plain cheese pizza, grilled cheese, mashed potatoes, etc.) I cannot stress this enough - from childhood through COLLEGE I did this. As a kid my mom had to make me a completely separate dish most nights to get me to eat something. My spouse was horrified at what little variety I ate. The only reason I eat so much variety now is that he knows what I do/don't like and tells me in advance if I'll find a texture or taste offensive. Of course, rather than wanting consistent texture like I did when I was younger, I now seek as much texture as possible (so long as they aren't Bad textures) so.... that's fun. But yeah most of my objections to Yucky foods is due to T E X T U R E. Even if I like the taste, the texture overrides it all.

I prefer animals to people. I will seek out animals and interact with them instead of people in the same room. And will pointedly focus on the animal to avoid interacting with people.

I'm perfectly happy with only myself for company. Being with just my spouse counts as me being "alone" though. Always has. I just realized last night that it's because I do minimal to no masking around him because he's a safe person to unmask with and always has been. Never batted an eye at the weird shit I do beyond asking questions about what I was doing or why. And then just "Okay."

Okay honestly just the fact that I want to vent into the void of tumblr instead of actually discussing this with a person - even my spouse! - pretty effectively shows how little it occurs to me to interact with other people directly. o_0

And there are so many more things that I won't list here because I could just go on and on. And like, sure, some of this may certainly overlap with ADHD but my point is that I have enough to point to ASD that it doesn't feel like having a "hint" of autism. And who knows - maybe it is mostly just ADHD and CPTSD stuff interacting in weird ways. Could be!

But just because I can make small talk and make eye contact and do the "normal" shit and I can interact "normally" doesn't mean I LIKE it. I had to LEARN to do those things to avoid having bad social interactions. When I'm by myself or with my spouse, I behave very differently than I do around anyone else. ANYONE. It's not just slightly changing my behavior depending on who I'm with - it's completely suppressing how I naturally would do things if left to my own devices.

Like, the things we recommended to our autistic students who wanted to know how to interact in ways that would help them blend in/be accepted by others ARE THE EXACT THINGS I ALREADY DO. Like, it did not occur to me at the time that neurotypicals literally do not have to think about doing those things. I thought, ah, these students just need to be told what the tricks are. Other people figure these tricks out on their own. It did not occur to me that other people, in fact, do not learn these tricks because they naturally do that behavior. They do not have to actively think about learning the trick, period. I literally thought other people also have to think as hard as I do about interactions. Evidently not.

So yeah, I'm feeling a little upset about the reaction I got from him because I'm like.... honestly, a diagnosis of ASD wouldn't change a lot about how I do things or think of things. But it would make me feel better about interacting with and participating in autism-related stuff if I am actually autistic. I realize I can use the resources and supports meant for ASD regardless, and for formal supports anything I can access due to my ADHD diagnosis likely covers anything I'd need for ASD. But having a diagnosis opens up more community. Right now I'm like yeah I'm ADHD but I totally relate to this ASD content. But I'm not going to interact much because I feel like I don't have the right to join in since idk if I do have ASD.

idk I have a lot of feelings. I had a bad email about the trans insurance coverage thing yesterday and I'm not in a great headspace, but finding out me and my spouse both scored very high on the autism screening stuff was honestly a high point because we ended up sharing a lot of how we view and interact with the world that was very eye-opening about why we interact the way we do, how we relate to others (and how other people think we're weird for how we relate to others), and just...everything. And having someone be skeptical after I've spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I DON'T have ASD only to conclude that at the very least, I should probably be evaluated because I can't reasonably rule it out. Like, most people do not wonder if they have autism. The fact that I am spending this much time looking into it and trying to find examples to disprove it only to find I overwhelmingly can't in virtually every single diagnostic category.... just..... dismissing it outright is kinda hurtful.

Like, I recognize that ADHD symptoms overlap a fair bit, but seriously. My spouse (who definitively does not have ADHD) scored almost identically to me and we vibed on almost everything when we compared answers. We see most things similarly. We have similar areas of confusion about other people and for fundamentally similar reasons. I can't imagine all of the stuff that points to ASD for me is just ADHD in disguise, not when I vibe THAT HARD with someone else. Spouse does not vibe with me on ADHD content. At all. He can appreciate it since he does live with me, after all, and observes whatever's being discussed. But he doesn't vibe with it. He vibes with autism content, though. And I vibe with both.

idk this rant ended in rambling and I'm just going to go listen to Inside on repeat for a couple hours while I try to calm down a bit. o_0

[sleepyskjolle]

PHARMA (Michael Myers x OC) // Chapter 01

A/N: So, I'm VERY new to writing fanfiction (although I've done a decent amount of RP-ing), so please be gentle with me - u -

I also wanted to make a point to not add any specific physical descriptors to our protagonist, June, so that she can be whatever you want her to be! So I suppose the story is kind of a mix between self-insert, original character, and x reader! Please feel free to tell me what you think! o u o

Summary: For June, any job was better than fast food. That of course included being hired as the specialized aide for Haddonfield's most prolific serial killer.

Set Pre-Halloween (2018)

November 21, 2017 Smith's Grove Sanitarium. Warren County, IL.

The walls of the office June sat in were just as stained and grungy as they were the first time she entered almost two weeks prior. She waited once again to see the head psychiatrist of this institution. The same institution that had loomed on the edges of her suburban hometown since the early 20th century.

Her fingers rubbed against each other in a simple pattern as she tried to calm the nervousness that was lapping at the edges of her consciousness. The ticking of the clock served as a melody for her fidgeting and it was starting to feel like she'd been waiting there an hour, although she knew that wasn't the case.

When the door finally did open, June turned to greet the doctor, a smile only crafted by years of customer service flashing.

"Good morning, Dr. Sartain, I'm sorry I'm a little early. I hope it's not a problem or anything." Apologizing for literally anything was another trait that had been beaten into the girl during her early years of employment.

The doctor just smiled back and physically waved her apology away. "There is no need for that, Ms. Jones. Promptness is a sign of a dedicated worker, and you are going to need dedication for the position you've been hired for." The small man makes his way around the desk and lowers into the well-used chair, immediately leaning onto his elbows to look at her more closely. His eyes are still kind, but his demeanor turns very serious very quickly. "You read the entire packet I gave you, correct? And the files?"

"Yes sir. I read over both pretty thoroughly, but I don't think I have any serious questions." Her fingers itched to fiddle again so she decided to clutch at the seam of her straight-out-of-the-package scrub top to quell the urge.

Dr. Sartain gave her a slightly incredulous look, pausing for a tense moment before speaking again. "And you are absolutely positive, Ms. Jones, that you want to take this job?"

June understood why he felt the need to ask. In retrospect, this was a dangerous thing, what she had signed up for. She didn't quite realize that when she signed the contracts that make it so the institute isn't liable if you get hurt. It became pretty clear though, when she had to go through a week of training and was told enough stories and shown enough scars to scare most anybody away. She learned a lot of ways to be safe though, and multiple ways to get away, as nobody was allowed to even detain the residents except for the guards, who usually sat half a compound away in their station. You weren't allowed to hurt a resident, even to protect yourself.

"Yes sir. I... I'm not afraid."

The doctor's intense demeanor switched off like a light and suddenly he was smiling warmly at her again and leaning back in his seat. "Good. You came at a good time too... He's been without an aide for a few weeks now at this point. Not that he necessarily NEEDS an aid, but most everyone that works here refuses to give him even decent care. At least in my professional opinion...” The doctor’s face betrays a slight bit of disdain for a split second “And, as I've explained to you previously, your position is sort of a last ditch effort to rehabilitate Michael."

Sartain coughs into his hand then begins to rise back up, using the desk for assistance.

"Come. It's time to introduce you to the nurses. Afterwards, we will let you meet your charge."

June follows the doctor without a word, nervous and a little bit excited, which always comes with a new job. She hoped the other orderlies liked her, naturally, but she was more worried about Michael. The doctor, and even the ones in charge of training, explained extensively just how many aides Michael had already gone through. Many either quitting suddenly and unexpectedly and the others being fired after a month or more of Mr. Myers showing no significant change. Apparently, Sartain had realized that he wouldn't be able to get through to Michael due to his distrust in doctors, or at least he assumed that was why. He petitioned to have this position made in an effort to find someone Michael could trust. So far, no luck.

Would she be any different?

The trek to the nurse's station was mostly uneventful, other than the intense security check they had to go through just past the doctor's office, at the entrance to the ward. Sartain assured her it would be swifter once she was given her clearance card but June knew that it was important that the residents weren't given access to anything that they could use to harm themselves or others. At Smith's Grove, careful was an understatement.

Most of the nurses were older and gave the girl just a side glance before returning to their work. The ones closer to her age, and a male guard that was chatting and flirting with a younger employee, greeted her with big smiles. There were too many names to remember immediately but the nametags would help.

One CNA, a younger guy named Nate, shook her hand and wished her luck. After that, it was like everyone remembered just why she was there. She mumbled a quick "thank you" as Sartain began to lead her further down the hall, watching the concerned eyes follow her until she was out of sight.

Dr. Sartain pulled her back from the distraction with his thick accent, "Michael should be in the cafeteria by this point, eating breakfast. This will be a good time to introduce you, while there are guards watching. Just in case, you see."

The ward was sort of maze-like, but there were signs indicating the cafeteria was close. The rusty looking red doors came into view and Sartain asked if she had the itinerary on hand. June's fingers slipped into her pocket in search of the folded paper, just to make sure.

"Yeah. Yeah, I've got it." They pause just outside the doors and he points through the rectangular window at an old man sitting alone in the middle of the large room. There were plenty of other residents already up and scarfing down their breakfasts but there was a wide berth around the one they were watching. The man, who had to be Michael, was staring out the nearest window. His breakfast sandwich sat half-eaten in his grip.

June's gaze breaks to look for some bit of affirmation on the doctor's face, her arms crossed to prevent her fingers from worrying her scrubs into oblivion. "Do you think he'll like me?"

"Hm... Well, judging by past trials, it's likely he won't take to anyone. But... it's possible, Ms. Jones. No one really knows what's going on in that grey head of his. No one ever has." His eyes turn back to Michael before hers. "Look. He knows."

Her attention snaps back to the old man in the cafeteria and he is glaring at her. From this angle, she can see the dead eye and the scars around it, just like she read in the file. The look he is giving her is curious and intense and it takes a moment before June comes to her senses and flashes a smile, raising a hand to wave at him. His head cocks to the side slightly before he turns back to his sandwich.

"That's a good sign, Ms. Jones. You haven't sparked his ire yet, at least. Let's test the waters..."

The door doesn't make much noise but as soon as they step in the room, all eyes are on the two of them. All except for Michael, who is suddenly engrossed in the last few bites of sandwich he's holding.

They have to skirt around a few of the guys that are sitting in the aisle but there is barely any movement going on in the room so it was easy enough. The two finally halt just in front of the table Michael is sitting at. Moments pass and he still isn't giving any sign that he even knows they are there. And she knows he does.

There is no change, even as Dr. Sartain begins to address him. "Good morning, Michael. There is someone I would very much like to introduce you to. Do you think perhaps you could take a break to meet her?"

Silence. The scrape of a plastic spork against cheap foam and a bite of apple makes its way to the old man's mouth. Soon it feels a little bit like his chewing is the only sound in the room.

June glances around and catches the guards looking their way. They must be used to this.. The silence swiftly becomes deafening and she feels like she needs to break it.

"My name's Juniper."

The strong jaw that was making easy work of that apple stops in place. She can see the muscles and tendons tense beneath the skin. Even Sartain is watching her now. "I usually go by June, though..."

She throws her foot over the bench and slides into the seat in front of him. There was no going back now. June is a foot away from the deadliest serial killer to ever grace the beautiful state of Illinois and her biggest worry is if he'll like her. Probably another product of employment in the fast food industry.

"I'm your new aide and I would really appreciate if you could maybe write down the things that you do and don't want me to do. I have ADHD and sometimes its really hard for me to remember things if I don't have a list. My uh… my little brother has autism too and sometimes he doesn't like being touched and sometimes he does. So if there is anything like that for you, I want to know. It's really nice to finally meet you, y'know!"

His head doesn't move even a millimeter but slowly his eyes rove over to the girl, although only one of them displayed any awareness. She's having problems deciphering how he feels about her just through his gaze, but June continues to smile at him, awaiting a response. Or anything really.

Eventually it comes. Although it arrives in the form of Michael standing and picking up his trash before turning on his heel and walking to the exit, throwing away the garbage, and leaving without a word.

When he's out the door, every bated breath in the cafeteria releases at once and suddenly it's as if nothing ever happened. She takes a moment to scan the room in awe before turning to face the doctor again. He's looking at her in a similar manner to how she was purveying the room, like something out of the ordinary just happened. June wonders if that was the wrong thing to do and she fucked up her chances at keeping this job but her worries melt away when his visage of confusion shifts to one of approval.

"Very good, Ms. Jones. You know, you may just be the right person for the job. Let's go fetch your clearance card and nametag and then we'll throw you back into the ring after lunch.”

“C-cool!” She knew how unprofessional the word was even as it slipped past her lips and the girl mentally berated herself for it as she unwove her legs from the bench. This wasn’t fast food anymore. This was the big leagues. Like, the “$20,000 more a year” leagues.

Her new employer simply gave a small chuckle, setting her at ease again.

“Yes, Ms. Jones. VERY cool.”

_________________________

June was allowed to watch the hustle and bustle of the residents during the period between breakfast and lunch from the nurse’s station. Nate, when not checking on his assigned residents, sat close to her and made small talk.

They were near the same age and she had remembered seeing him in passing during her junior and senior years. They bonded over making fun of old classmates and teachers. Even as they chatted, her eyes were always on the lookout for HER resident. She hadn’t caught sight of him since their meeting in the cafeteria and she wondered if he was avoiding her on purpose. Nate seemed to pick up on this and their talk shifted.

“He’s always like this at first, so don’t worry too much about it.” It was nice that he was trying to reassure her, at least.

She notices that her fingers are fidgety again and wonders just how long they’d been doing that. It takes a few seconds for her to debate whether she should voice what she’s really thinking.

“Is he really all that bad? I mean… I know about the babysitter murders. Trick-or-treating has been basically illegal in Haddonfield until just a few years ago. We ALL heard the stories about the boogeyman growing up. But since then?”

Another pause while Nate parses out his response. “Well… I haven’t ever seen him like that. But some of his previous aides got really freaked out and quit all of a sudden. And Nettie,” he nods his head towards an older nurse doing paperwork in the small office across the hall, “she’s told us all some pretty crazy stories from back in the day. Said he used to be really dangerous. But I’ve never even seen a resident give him a mean look. They simply don’t mess with him. It’s kind of crazy, really…”

June isn’t sure how to respond. Dr. Sartain had assured her that Michael hadn’t hurt anyone in “quite a while”. He said they had even brought in cats to spend the night with him a few times and every single kitty came out of the room in the morning just as it had been the evening before. Before she musters up another query, Nate stands up from his chair and scoots it back under the desk.

“Hey, I gotta go real quick. It’s lunchtime and they’ll get rowdy if we don’t start rounding em up.” He turns to another employee that had been reading on the other side of the station. “Cass. Hey Cass. It’s time for lunch.”

The other girl, Cass, rolls her eyes as she slides her bookmark back into the tacky romance novel she was halfway through. She grumbles an audible, “this’ll be fun,” before picking up a clipboard and pen and pushing past June on her way out of the nurse’s station. Nate shoots her an apologetic look before grabbing his clipboard and leaving her there alone.

She can hear them shouting “LUNCHTIME” down the halls and all of a sudden, doors are slammed open and then the passageways are stampeded with the footfalls of eager, hungry men. Many of them take the time to ogle the new blood a bit on their way but it’s obvious that most of them are more focused on their bellies because none of them bother for too long.

June herself is pulling out the package of tuna and crackers she had brought for her own lunch as the last stragglers file through. Her thumb gets caught on the lip of the plastic as she tries to open it and the ensuing cut is little, but a drop of blood begins to form from the slit. Out of instinct, she mumbles “shit” and brings it to her mouth. Her tongue is putting pressure on the little wound and the sharp pain is starting to fade when something tall looms just in her peripheral.

Her eyes jolt upwards to see him standing still as death in the hallway, still facing towards the route to the dining hall. His head is ever so slightly tilted in her direction, his good eye flickering between her own eyes and the finger still suckled in her mouth.

Within a millisecond June’s thumb is retracted and she gives Michael a smile and a nervous wave with her other hand.

“H-hey! I hope you have a good lunch!” She begins to explain herself, “I just, uh… I cut my finger on accident and I…”

He doesn’t let the girl finish her rambling, turning his head back and continuing on his trek towards his lunch like she wasn’t talking at all.

He gets to the end of the hall and turns the corner before her mind finds itself again. “Uh, okay… rude…” Maybe he just needed time to warm up to her, just like Nate said.

June’s eye catches the offending tuna package once more and then her attention is turned back to how hungry she is. And Lord knows with her new “friend”, she may need the strength in the coming hours.

_________________________

After lunch, Dr. Sartain fetches her again, to ferry her to Michael for the last time. After this, she would be on her own. June doesn’t bring up what happened at the nurse’s station.

She waits just beside the doctor as they walk up to him in the common room. He’s standing and looking out one of the many large windows that line one wall of the decently large room.

“Michael, June is here to see you again. She’ll be with you the rest of the afternoon, so you must be on your best behavior so you don’t scare her off.” The old man continues to stare out the window and gives no indication that he’s even heard the doctor speak. Sartain turns to her and whispers “good luck” before making his exit.

It takes a couple of minutes for June to make her way up to the window, near Michael, but far enough away as to not make him uncomfortable. She sneaks a few glances at the tall man and also tries to pinpoint just what it is he’s watching. They are on the third floor and the view spans a pretty wide area, even overlooking the parking lot. A few people are coming and going, mostly what looks like employees and the others most likely visitors. His eye follows one and then moves on to the next person. And then the next. ‘Ah. So he’s peoplewatching,’ June thinks to herself.

A few minutes of watching with him and she notices just how quiet the man is. Barely exuding a sound besides the rhythmic breaths that accompanies most humans. He really is a mystery.

Not really knowing what to say, she lets almost half an hour pass in silence before her legs begin to ache from standing still for so long. June moves to sit in the chair just on the other side of Michael and she grabs a magazine from a nearby side table to flip through. She doesn’t want to push Michael too much and is sure just letting him get used to her presence is the correct way to go about it, at least for the first day or so. Some of the other men in the room begin to whisper to each other. After awhile, she peeks over the top of the Good Housekeeping in her hands to see a few younger looking guys watching her and talking amongst themselves. Within ten minutes, they are standing close enough to speak to her but still not incredibly close. She sees them nervously eyeing Michael, who hasn’t moved a centimeter.

Maybe she should say hi? That’s polite, right?

“Hey, what’s up? You guys need something? I can go get a CNA...”

One of the boys, the one that seems to be the leader, steps just a tiny bit closer, eyes moving from her to Michael. Then from Michael to her.

“Nah, we’re good, miss. We just wanted to meet you. My name’s Russ. We just don’t get many new people around h-here.”

One of the other two men, who looks to be a bit older, is flashing her a weird smile. He nudges his way up so he’s standing beside Russ instead of behind. “We definitely don’t get many pretty girls like you.”

Russ jabs his elbow into the other man’s side and June isn’t really sure how to respond. “Oh, um… Thank you?”

Russ opens his mouth to say something else but the younger guy cowering behind him gets his attention and points behind her. June turns to look as well and it seems Michael has turned his head in their direction and is glaring at the boys. The flirty guy curses under his breath and Russ, who looks absolutely terrified, starts backing up. “S-sorry for bothering you… sorry…”

They abscond without another word and huddle around a small table in the opposite corner of the room, looking back at her direction every now and then. She moves to glance back at her charge and their eyes meet.

Silence. Then he’s looking out the window again, ignoring that she’s even there.

So she goes back to reading the interview with Jaime Lee Curtis she was engrossed in when they were approached. She couldn’t help but to sing that digestive yogurt jingle in her head.

A couple of hours pass by uneventfully and by 3 o’clock she’s read every article in every magazine in a five foot radius. June’s eyes are a little sore from the reading and she wonders just how Michael can stand in the same spot like that for that long. When she stands, one of her hands moves to settle against his shoulder. Just a small gesture to get his attention. The muscles beneath her hand tense just slightly at the touch.

“The doc told me to leave at 3 today, so I guess I’ll be on my way. It was nice meeting you though. I hope I didn’t annoy you too much...” Her hand falls back to her side. “Have a good rest of your day, okay?” She waits for a response but it never comes, so June makes her way back to the nurse’s station to gather her things, yawning along the way. Sitting around doing nothing had really taken a toll on her today.

Nate is packing up when she gets there so they head out together, chatting about what they are going to eat for supper that night all the way up until they have to split up to get to their cars.

June opens the driver side door but gets a shiver down her spine before she can climb in. Realization dawns and then her eyes are looking back up at the massive, decrepit building, searching the windows. It doesn’t take long to find him and when she does, he’s looking back at her. It’s the same spot he was in when she left him but this time his gaze stays on her, instead of flickering to and fro. There are more than a few people leaving right now but he’s just watching her.

‘Maybe that’s a good sign…’

She waves once more but as she suspected, he doesn’t return it. The wind is chilly though, and she doesn’t wait for long.

‘It wasn’t a BAD day,’ June reminds herself on the drive home.

“Beats McDonald’s ANY day…”