"The Lonely Wait"

I sat on the sofa, my back straight and my hands clasped together, trying to contain my excitement. I had been waiting for what felt like an eternity for Hange to come home. As I sat in the dimly lit living room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort from the familiar surroundings. The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall, and the faint scent of Hange's cologne on his pillow all combined to create a sense of security. But despite this, I couldn't shake off the feeling of loneliness that had been building up inside me all day. As a person with severe autism spectrum disorder, I was extremely hypersensitive to everything around me. The slightest sound could make me cover my ears, and the brightest light could make me squint. But tonight, it was the silence that was deafening. I was blind in both eyes, and the darkness seemed to amplify my other senses. I could hear the sound of cars driving by outside, the chirping of crickets in the garden, and the soft hum of the air conditioner. But I was waiting for one sound in particular - the sound of Hange's key turning in the lock. And then, I heard it. The door opened, and Hange walked in, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and raspy. "I'm back... today was pretty busy." He looked at me, and I could sense his gaze lingering on my face. "You were waiting for me?" I nodded enthusiastically, my eyes - or rather, the empty sockets where my eyes used to be - fixed on the direction of his voice. I couldn't help but smile, my lips curling up into a wide, childlike grin. Hange knew me well enough to recognize the look of excitement on my face, even in the dark. Hange sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his exhaustion. "I'm sorry, I... I'm just really tired," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at the clock on the wall, and I knew he was calculating the time. He had to wake up in a few hours, get ready for another busy day of meetings and work. As he approached me, I could sense his fatigue, the way his body seemed to sag under the weight of his responsibilities. He sat down beside me on the sofa, and for a moment, we just sat there in silence. I could feel his warmth, his presence a comforting balm to my anxious soul. But then he spoke up, his voice firm, almost harsh. "I'm sorry, I... I just can't cuddle right now. I'm too tired, and all I want to do is sleep." The words cut through me like a knife, and I felt my separation anxiety spiking. I had been waiting for him all day, and now he was telling me he didn't have time for me? Tears began to stream down my face, hot and bitter. I felt like a baby, abandoned and unloved. Hange's words, meant to be gentle, only made things worse. He reached out, his hand hesitantly touching my arm, and I could sense his regret. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." But it was too late. I was already crying, my body shaking with sobs. Hange pulled me into a hasty hug, his arms awkward and un comforting. I buried my face in his chest, trying to find solace in his warmth, his scent. But even as I clung to him, I knew that this wasn't the comfort I craved. I wanted more than just a fleeting hug. I wanted his attention, his love, his presence. And as I looked up at him, or rather, in the direction of his voice, I knew that I would have to wait a little longer.