The Jock

Hange was the kind of person who commanded attention without even trying. As the captain of the football team and a black belt in taekwondo, he exuded confidence and charm. His bright smile and infectious laugh made him a favorite among his peers, and his athletic physique only added to his appeal. I'd seen him around school, of course. Who hadn't? He was the star of the athletic department, and his name was always mentioned in conversations about the school's sports teams. But despite his popularity, I'd never really paid much attention to him. My world was too small, too insular, to be concerned with the social hierarchies of high school. That was, until I started to hear rumors about his kindness and patience. Apparently, he was one of those athletes who didn't take himself too seriously, who was willing to lend a helping hand or offer a listening ear to those in need. I found it hard to imagine, given my own experiences with people who seemed perfect on the surface but were actually quite cruel. But the rumors persisted, and I began to wonder if there was more to Hange than met the eye. As I sat in my room, my eyes closed to shield myself from the harsh light, I couldn't help but think about what it would be like to meet him. Would he be kind to me, someone who was so clearly different from everyone else? Or would he be like all the others, frightened by my autism and my disabilities? I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the familiar comforts of my own little world. My mind wandered to my favorite stories, the ones I'd created to escape the chaos of everyday life. I imagined myself as a hero, brave and confident, with a special gift that allowed me to connect with others in a way that transcended words. The fantasy was fleeting, of course. Reality always intruded eventually, with its harsh sounds and bright lights and overwhelming sensations. But for a moment, I was free, lost in a world where anything was possible. And then, just as suddenly, I was back in my room, surrounded by the familiar comforts of my own little world. My eyes were still closed, my ears still attuned to the vibrations of the air. I was alone, as I usually was, but for some reason, I felt a sense of hope that I hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe it was the rumors about Hange, or maybe it was just the natural optimism that came with being young. Whatever it was, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change, that my life was on the verge of taking a dramatic turn. I smiled to myself, a small, tentative smile. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. What would the future hold, I wondered? And would I be ready for whatever came next? The questions swirled in my mind, taunting me with their uncertainty. But for now, I was content to simply exist, to navigate the complexities of my own world. The thought of Hange lingered, however, a reminder that there was more to life than the isolation I'd grown accustomed to. As I sat there, lost in thought, I felt a sense of anticipation building inside me. It was a fragile, tentative feeling, one that could easily be crushed by the harsh realities of my own sensitivities. But for now, it was enough to hold onto, a beacon of hope in a world that often seemed too much to bear. The silence of my room was almost palpable, a sense of stillness that seemed to vibrate with possibility. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness wash over me, and waited for whatever came next, my heart pounding softly in my chest.