𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 25 Once home, Plankton collapses onto his bed, unsure of how to process the day's events. His mind spins with the professor's cruel words and Krabs' unexpected defense. He'd never felt so... seen. So understood, even by his sworn enemy. So conflicted? Tears stream down his face as he clutches his favorite pillow. Karen finds him later, her eyes softening at his distress. "What's wrong?" she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. Plankton takes a deep, shaky breath. "Krabs," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "He... he was nice to me.." Karen nods, her hand reaching out to his. "Okay," she says. "It'll be fine." Plankton's eye widens slightly. "Wait, what?" Plankton asks her. "What do you mean? It's not like he knows I'm autis–" But Karen cuts him off, her voice firm. "I told him," she says. "I thought it was time he knew." Plankton's body goes still, his heart racing. "What?" he repeats, his mind racing. Karen nods. "During Dr. Marla's visit he came in and saw you having a seizure so I explained how your birth was tough and it affected yo-" Plankton pulls away, his body tense. "You told Krabs?" he says, his voice shaking. "Why would you do that?" Karen's expression is calm, but her eyes are filled with sorrow. "Because," she says, "he's seen it and asked me wh-" But Plankton can't hear her anymore, his mind reeling. He sat up in his bed. "Get out," he whispers. "I-I can't... I can't have you in here right now." Karen's eyes widened, her hand hovering in midair. "Wh-" But Plankton's voice is firm. "I need to be alone." Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Okay," she says softly. "But if you need me-" Plankton turns away, his antennae drooping. "I just... need space." Karen nods, her heart aching. "I don't want you upset with me, Plank-" He cuts her off, his voice shaky. "It's not you," he says. "It's just... a lot. I'm disappointed that you told him, but I understand why. I just need to be by myself." Karen's throat tightens, but she nods. "Okay," she whispers, standing with her palms open. "Can I---" But Plankton's antennae wave frantically. "No, please. Just go." His voice is desperate, his eye pleading. Karen's heart breaks into a million pieces, but she nods, stepping back. "If you need anything," she says, "anything at all---" But Plankton is not in the mood. "I SAID to leave me ALONE!" Karen's eyes widen at his outburst, his voice sharp, a stark contrast to the softness that usually laces his words when with her. But she knew that he's not angry at her, but his own situation. She nods, her throat thick with unshed tears. "Ok," she says, her voice small. "I'll be out here if you need me." She closes the bedroom door. Plankton's sobs fill the room, his body shaking with the force of his emotion. He's never felt so alone, so exposed. He pulls his knees to his chest, his pillow damp with his tears. And it makes Karen's heart ache even more, knowing she's the one who told Krabs. Karen sits outside the door, hand hovering over the wood, wanting to go in, wanting to comfort him, but she knows he needs space. She's seen this before, the way the world can overwhelm him, crushing him under its weight until all he can do is withdraw into his own little bubble. Inside, Plankton talks to himself, his words tumbling out in a rush, his voice a mix of anger and sadness. "Why did you tell him?" he whimpers, his antennae quivering. "Why did you tell him?" He stims, his hands flapping in front of his face, his eye squeezed shut. "It's not your fault," he murmurs. "It's not your fault." The words are a mantra, a desperate attempt to convince his racing mind. He knows Karen meant well, but the knowledge feels like a betrayal. "It's not your fault," he repeats, voice growing soft, eye squeezed shut. "I can't help it." His voice cracks. "It's not my fault," he repeats, antennae twitching. "I just see things differently." He rocks back and forth. "But Krabs... Krabs was nice," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder. "Why?" he asks his reflection in the mirror. "Why now?" His eye is wet, his voice shaky. "Why now?" He whimpers it again, his stims increasing. Outside, Karen can't help but listen, her heart in her throat. Her hand is poised to enter, but she knows better. Plankton needs this moment alone, to process the tumultuous storm of emotions. She closes her eyes, her hand dropping to her side. Inside, Plankton's stims grow more intense, his breaths shallow. "It's not your fault," he whispers. "Krabs is just... confused." He flaps his hands, his body rocking faster. "Why did you tell him?" His voice is a mix of anger and desperation. "Why did you have to tell him?" His stims are a comfort, a way to self-regulate, to make sense of the chaos that's overwhelmed him. He opens his eye, his gaze unfocused as he stares at the wall. "But he was nice," he murmurs. "He said I'm not a mistake." He pauses, his hand stilling. "Maybe he sees me now, maybe it's just pity," he says, his voice harsh. He resumes his stims, his thoughts racing. His antennae twitch, his mind trying to process the kindness from his enemy. "But why?" he whispers. "Why now?" His body rocks back and forth, his hand flapping in rhythm. "It's not your fault," he repeats. "It's not your fault." He grabs a favorite sensory toy, a soft, squishy ball, and squeezes it tightly as he rocks. The pressure is comforting, helping him to think. "He was always mean," he mumbles, his voice a whisper in the quiet room. "But today... today he saw me," he says loudly, his voice cracking. "He saw me." He throws the ball against the wall, watching as it bounces back. "But why?" he asks his reflection again. "Why now?" The ball hits the floor with a soft thud, and he sighs, his hands stilling. "It's not your fault," he whispers. "But he knows now." His eye blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the wall. "He knows and he still... he still talked to me. Maybe he's just confused," he says to himself. "Or maybe he just felt sorry for me." His voice is flat, his movements mechanical. "But why now?" he asks the wall. He leans back, his hand still clutching the pillow. "But he knows," he whispers. "He knows now." His antennae twitch, his mind racing. "What does it mean? What does it mean?" he repeats, his voice a little louder. "What does it mean for me?" More tears roll down his face. "But he saw me at my weakest." His body shakes with sobs. "He saw me at my lowest," he whimpers. "And he didn't laugh. He was... nice." His voice cracks on the last word, his fist tightening around his pillow. "Why?" he cries out. "Why now?" The room is silent except for his ragged breaths and the quiet thump of his pillow against the bed frame. "It's not your fault," he reminds himself, his voice a mere whisper. "It's not your fault," he repeats, his body stilling slightly. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "But why now?" he asks his reflection, his voice cracking. "Why did it take this for him to see me?" He squeezes his eye shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Why now?" his voice is barely audible. He's lost in his own thoughts. "It's not your fault! But what if it is? No," he says. "I'm not."

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 8 Chip's eyes well up, his body shaking. He doesn't understand why his dad is so angry with him. He thought he was just trying to help. "Dad, please," he whispers, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I just wan–" "NO!" Plankton shouts, pushing his son away. Plankton's sobs turn to heavy breaths. Karen watches them both, her heart breaking. Chip's eyes brim with tears as he retreats, his voice barely a whisper. "But Dad..." Plankton turns to his side, his back facing Chip, his antennae thrashing violently. "I'M TRYING!" He screams into the silent room. Chip then makes the mistake of putting his hand on his dad's shoulder. "Don't touch me!" Plankton shrieks, his body jolting. The room seems to shrink around them, the tension pressing down like a heavy wet blanket. Chip feels a wave of fear wash over him. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. He moves his hand away, his throat tight. "I'm so sor—" "I SAID, DON'T TOUCH ME!" Plankton's scream reverberates through the room, echoing off the walls as his sobbing turns to anger, his body stiff as he glares at Chip. Chip jumps back, his heart racing. He's never seen his dad like this, so out of control. He looks to Karen, his eyes wide with fear. "What's happe—" "Chip," she says quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. "Give him some space. Now." She moves closer to Plankton, her hand outstretched but not touching, giving him the option. Chip nods, his face crumpled with hurt and confusion. He retreats to his own bed, his eyes on the floor. The room feels like it's closing in on them, the silence deafening. Plankton's sobs turn to angry grunts as his breaths become more pronounced. Karen sits next to Plankton, her hand hovering near his, but not touching. "It's okay, babe," she whispers. "We're here." Plankton's body tenses further. "I DON'T NEED CHIP'S HELP!" He doesn't wanna lash out, yet Karen knows he needs to let out the storm inside. She can feel the energy building in Plankton, his body a coil ready to snap. With a sudden explosion of rage, Plankton yells, "I'M THE ONE WITH A PROBLEM‽" Plankton's limbs flail erratically, his voice hoarse from screaming. Karen's heart aches for him, for the pain he's in, the pain he can't express in any other way. She needs to redirect his energy. "Plankton," she says firmly, her hand still hovering just out of reach. "Take a deep breath." But Plankton's too far gone. He starts to kick the bed, the mattress shaking as his body thrashes. Karen flinches, but doesn't move as the tantrum intensifies, his tiny fists slamming into the mattress. Karen's eyes are wide, her body tense, but she remains calm, knowing that this is part of his coping mechanism. He kicks the bed harder, his fists clenching the covers. Yet Karen remains steady, her voice calm and firm. "Hey, look at me," she instructs, her hand still hovering. "Take a deep breath with me." He doesn't move, his fists clenched in the sheets. Her voice doesn't waver. "In and out, babe. In and ou-" Suddenly, Plankton's body goes rigid. He inhales deeply, his antennae shaking with the effort. His eye snaps to hers, his breath hitching. For a moment, there's silence. Karen holds her breath, noticing he's gonna have one of his seizures. Then as Chip comes back through the curtain Plankton starts to shake as it finally took over. Karen tucks Plankton in loosely. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice shaking. Karen's eyes dart to him, filled with the knowledge that he's gonna be fine. "It's ok Chip," she whispers. "Just watch from here." Plankton's body shakes harder, his breaths coming in short bursts. He's lost in a world of sensory overload, his body reacting to the chaos around him. Karen strokes his arm gently. "It's ok, Plankton," she whispers. "We are right here." The seizure lasts for a few moments, and as it now subsides, Plankton's body goes limp with exhaustion. Karen knew his postictal phase can bring on some loopiness. Plankton's antennae twitch erratically, his eye unfocused. He giggles, a sound so unlike his usual self. "Karen? Oh! You're so...shiny." Karen can't help but smile at her husband's post-seizure loopy state. "Yes, I'm right here," she says. Chip's eyes are wide with worry, his voice a tremble. "Is he okay?" Karen nods, her smile tinged with sadness. "He's in his post- seizure phase. It's normal for him to be like this." Plankton giggles again, his voice slurred as he tries to sit up, his body wobbly. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he mutters. He then reaches for Karen, his hand missing by a mile. Chip watches, his heart racing. He's seen his dad act weird before, but never like this.. "It's part of his autism, Chip," Karen explains gently, her hands steady. "After a big meltdown or usually a seizure, he can get disoriented." Plankton's head lolls to the side, his antennae twitching erratically. "You're...so...far away..." He giggles, his body swaying slightly with the effort of speech. Karen takes his hand, her eyes understanding. "You're fine." Plankton's hand shakes in hers, his eye half-closed. "No, no, I wanna... play." He giggles again, his body lurching forward. Karen sighs. "I wanna go on an adventure," he slurs, his body listing to one side. Karen tightens her grip on his hand, keeping him grounded. "We can go on an adventure later, babe," she promises. "For now, let's just get some sleep. It's bedtime for all of us!" Plankton's giggles turn into a snore, his body going limp. Karen gently guides him to lie down, his breathing evening out. She covers him with the blanket, his antennae twitching slightly.