A Glimmer of Love

The sound of Hange's footsteps echoed through the room, a familiar comfort in the darkness that enveloped me. I sat on the sofa, my ears ringing from the deafening silence that filled the space. My hypersensitive skin crawled with anxiety, every creak of the floorboards, every tick of the clock, amplified in my mind like a scream. I was a prisoner in my own home, trapped in a world of sensory overload. As I heard Hange enter the room, my head snapped up, my ears perked up in excitement. He was home. I smiled, a wide, toothy grin spreading across my face. I loved Hange, I loved him so much. He was my rock, my safe haven. And when he was with me, I felt safe, I felt protected. "Hey, sweetheart," Hange said, his voice tired, his footsteps heavy. "I'm back. Today was pretty busy." I nodded, my smile faltering for a moment. I didn't understand what "busy" meant, but I knew it wasn't good. It meant Hange was tired, and when Hange was tired, he didn't cuddle me. He didn't play with me. He just slept. "You were waiting for me?" Hange asked, his voice softening. I nodded again, my smile returning. I had been waiting for him, I had been waiting for what felt like forever. I wanted to be with him, I wanted to be close to him. As a person with severe autism spectrum disorder, I craved routine and predictability, but Hange's busy schedule made it difficult for me to feel secure. Hange looked at me, his eyes filled with guilt. He could see the happiness in my face, and it made him feel guilty. He knew he hadn't been spending enough time with me, and it was eating away at him. My severe age regression, which made my mind like a newborn baby, made it hard for me to understand complex emotions, but I knew I felt happy when Hange was around. As a gay man, I had always been drawn to boys, and Hange was the love of my life. I felt a deep connection with him, and I knew he cared for me, despite his busy schedule. But my severe separation anxiety, stemming from my father's abandonment when I was a baby, made me fear that Hange would leave me too. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I'm just really tired. I have to get up early tomorrow." I felt a pang of disappointment, a pang of fear. He wasn't going to cuddle me, he wasn't going to play with me. He was just going to sleep. My mind, like a newborn baby, didn't understand the concept of tiredness. All I knew was that Hange wasn't going to cuddle me, and that hurt. It hurt so much. Tears began to stream down my face, hot and bitter. I felt overwhelmed, I felt lost. I was a scared, lost child, and I didn't know what to do. My blindness, which made me rely on my other senses, made the experience even more intense. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions, and I didn't know how to keep my head above water. Hange saw the tears, and his face contorted in regret. He knew he had hurt me, and it was killing him. He reached out, his hand hesitating, and then he pulled back, leaving me alone in the darkness. "I'm sorry, I just...I need to sleep," Hange said, his voice firm. I didn't understand what that meant. All I knew was that Hange wasn't going to cuddle me, and that was all that mattered. I cried harder, my body shaking with sobs. I felt like I was losing him, like he was slipping away from me. Hange's face twisted in pain, and he took a step back, his eyes avoiding mine. He knew he had to make things right, but he didn't know how. He was trapped in his own world, a world of work and responsibility, and he didn't know how to escape. As I sat there, crying and alone, I felt like I was disappearing into the darkness. I felt like I was losing myself, like I was losing Hange. And I didn't know how to stop it.