**Chapter 1: Echoes of Abandonment**

I lay in my bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of my room. The soft, plush toys that lined my shelves seemed to stare at me with gentle eyes, their silence a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. But despite the tranquility of my surroundings, my mind was a maelstrom of anxiety, my thoughts racing like a runaway train. I was trapped in a world of sensory overload, my autism spectrum disorder making every sound, every sight, every touch a potential threat. As I lay there, my fingers drummed against the bedframe, the rhythmic thumping a self-soothing mechanism I'd developed over the years. But it wasn't enough to calm the storm brewing inside me. The memories of my dad's abandonment, of being left behind like a discarded toy, still lingered, a raw wound that refused to heal. I was only a newborn baby when he left, and the pain of that rejection had stayed with me, festering like an open sore. It was a wound that had contributed to my severe separation anxiety, making it impossible for me to be apart from the one person who had become my rock, my safe haven – Hange. Hange, the dragon emperor, the yakuza king, the captain of the high school football team. He was all of these things and more, but to me, he was simply the love of my life, my soulmate. At 6ft 10in tall, he towered over me, his imposing physique a comforting presence that made me feel safe. As I thought of him, a smile spread across my face, and I couldn't help but rub against the memory of his six pec abs, the veiny hands that had cradled me, comforted me. It was a tactile sensation I craved, one that usually calmed my racing thoughts. But today, my mind was refusing to be soothed. The anxiety was building, and I could feel myself starting to regress, my mind slipping back into the mental age of a newborn baby. It was a coping mechanism I'd developed over the years, one that allowed me to escape the overwhelming stimuli that threatened to consume me. As I regressed, Hange's face appeared in my mind's eye, his warm smile, his gentle voice. He was always there to comfort me, to pretend to be my father until I felt better. It was a role he played with ease, his love for me unconditional. In my regressed state, I was aware of only one thing – Hange. My beloved Hange, my boyfriend, my everything. I craved his presence, his touch, his voice. I needed him to tell me everything would be okay, that I was loved, that I wasn't alone. And as I lay there, my fingers still drumming against the bedframe, I called out for him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hange...Hange...I need you." The words were a prayer, a plea for comfort, for safety, for love. And I knew, in that moment, that he would be there, that he would hold me, comfort me, and make everything okay.