𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 22 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ The science fair is a cacophony of noise and color. Each project vying for attention, each child eager to show off their hard work. Chip's screen lights up with excitement. Plankton's antennae twitch nervously. The sensory overload threatens to swamp him, but he firmly holds onto Karen's hand. "Karen?" Karen turns and sees her friend Hanna. "Oh Hanna!" She exclaims. Hanna's eyes widen at the sight of Plankton. "Is this your family?" Karen nods. "We're here for our son Chip." Hanna's smile is warm, but Plankton's antennae bristle, his body stiff with tension. He's not used to socializing, especially not in a place like this, with its unpredictability. "Hi, I'm Karen's friend," Hanna says. Plankton flinches, his antennae waving frantically. "The name's Hanna. You must be Karen's husband, Plankton.." Hanna exclaims as she puts her hands on his shoulders. Plankton's body goes rigid. He's not used to touch, not like this. The pressure sends a shock wave through him. His eye widens in panic, but he forces a smile. "Nice to meet you," he says, his voice tight. He's masking, a technique he's honed over the years to navigate the world that doesn't quite fit him. The effort it takes to appear normal is exhausting, but for Chip, for his family, he'll try. He takes a deep breath, trying to regulate his racing heart. But Hanna's excitement won't abate. "Oh, I've heard so much about you!" Hanna says, her hands squeezing his shoulders. Plankton swallows hard, his antennae twitching with the need to flee. The sensory assault of her perfume, the touch, the sound of her voice, it's too much. But he can't leave, not here, not now. He smiles, a mask covering his panic. "Yeah, it's good to meet you too," he says, his voice strained. Yet Hanna is talkative and bubbly. "Your son's projects are always so amazing!" she gushes, her hand now on his arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but he keeps his smile firmly in place. He's masking, a painful dance of pretending to fit in, his mind racing to keep up with the social cues. "Thanks, he's very smart," he forces out, hoping his voice doesn't give away the turmoil inside. "Look at all these wonderful things!" Hanna yells, turning to give Plankton's shoulder another squeeze. Plankton's body tenses, but his smile doesn't falter. He's wearing his mask today, the one he's perfected over the years. The one that lets him pretend he's okay, that he fits in this neurotypical world. The lights in the gym are too bright, the sounds too loud. His antennae are on high alert, his brain trying to filter the onslaught. Karen's hand in his is a lifeline, but even she can't dull the sensory overload. Yet he nods, he smiles, he makes polite small talk. He's a chameleon, blending in as best he can, for his family. For Chip, for Karen, he'll weather this storm as best he can. Hanna won't let up. "Oh guess what? I'm a trainer!" Her laughter is a siren to Plankton's sensitive hearing. "That's... amazing," he says, his voice strained. But Hanna doesn't notice. "Do you come here often?" Her question is a minefield Plankton tries to tiptoe around. "I, uh, I don't really come so no," he stammers. "I mean, it's not—" "Oh, you're so funny!" she interrupts, her hand on his arm again. The pressure sends shivers down his spine, but he keeps smiling, keeps pretending. "Heh, ye-" Her touch is a thunderstorm on his skin, but he keeps the mask in place. "What do you do?" Hanna asks, her eyes sparkling. "I'm a scientist," Plankton manages, his antennae vibrating with the need to retreat. "Wow, just like Chip!" Her enthusiasm is a hurricane, but he nods, his smile fixed. "Ye-yes, I guess so-" "Oh, you must be so proud!" Her hand is still on his arm, her grip tightening. The noise in the gym crescendos around him, each child's laughter a pinprick in his overwhelmed brain. "I, I am," he says, his voice strained. She leans in, too close for comfort. Plankton's heart races, his antennae quivering. He wants to scream, to pull his arm away, to retreat. "Look at Chip's project!" Hanna says, pulling him closer to a table covered in wires and circuits. The lights from the screen flicker over her face, casting an eerie glow. Plankton's eye darts around, searching for his son, for a familiar face. But Chip is engaged with his classmates, explaining his creation. He's missed the storm brewing in his father's posture. "Isn't it amazing?" Hanna asks, her hand squeezing his arm again. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching with the pressure. "It's... yes, it's very good," he says, his voice strained. Karen notices, her eyes full of concern. She knows his limits, the tightrope he walks between appearing sociable and the screaming need to retreat. But Hanna doesn't. "Oh!" Hanna exclaims. "You are SUCH a great dad to be so supportive!" Her hand lands on his shoulder, giving it a hearty pat. The suddenness of the touch sends a shock through Plankton's body. He flinches, his antennae waving in a silent cry for space. But Hanna doesn't know, and she's not quite done either. "You must be so proud of him!" Her hand moves to his back, patting it in what she assumes is a comforting gesture. But for Plankton, it burns. He tries to pull away, his body screaming for space, but her grip is firm, her energy unrelenting. The room spins, the lights grow brighter. His antennae quiver with the strain of holding on to his mask. "Thank you," he says, his voice a whisper of the storm inside. "He's... a good boy." Karen's hand squeezes his, a silent reassurance. The pressure of her touch is comforting, but it's not enough. The sensory assault continues, Hanna's unrelenting. He can't take it anymore. The mask is slipping, his smile fading, but Hanna is not. "You're such a great father," Hanna says, her hand now on his cheek. The suddenness of the touch sends a jolt of panic through him. His eye darts around the room, searching for escape. The lights flicker, the sounds meld into a cacophony. He's drowning in a sea of sensation, and Hanna is the storm's eye, unaware of the chaos she's causing. "And Plankton, I think you're just the sweetest!" she says, giving his cheek a squeeze. The room spins, his antennae a blur. Hanna's smile only widens. "Hey, don't be shy!" she laughs, cupping his chin to make him look at her. He needs space. But Hanna won't back down. The pressure builds, his mask threatening to shatter. He can't breathe, can't think. The room is too bright, the sounds too loud. Hanna's touch is a brand, searing into his skin. He tries to pull away, but his body won't cooperate. "I'm..." But Hanna interrupts him. "Oh, you're just adorable!" Her hand moves to his antennae. Plankton's heart races, his body a tight coil of panic. He tries to smile, but his mouth wobbles. "Hanna, I'm not—" He's going to break. His antennae quiver violently, his body screaming for mercy. The mask is slipping, his eye pleading with Karen. But she's engaged with another parent, oblivious to his distress. He tries to pull away, but Hanna's grip is unyielding. "Hanna," he whispers, his voice a thread of panic. "Please." But she doesn't hear him, doesn't see the pain in his eye. She's too caught up in her own excitement, the storm of her affection crashing down on him like a waterfall. He tries to step back, but his legs are like lead. The noise of the gym crescendos, each laugh a needle in his ear. The lights, the smells, the sensations, they're all too much. He needs to escape, to find his quiet place. But Hanna won't let him. Her hand moves to tickle his side. Her laugh makes him hold his head. But she keeps going, unaware of his pain. "Plankton you're so fun..." But Plankton's body betrays him, his stomach lurching. His hand shoots to his mouth, eye wide with horror. He can't. Then suddenly... He's sick. Right there, on the floor of the crowded gym. The smells, the sounds, the touch. It's all too much. He didn't mean to, but he has no control. His body heaves, and Hanna finally retreats her hands.