Teaching Noah | √

041

"I FEEL FUNNY inside... like an entirely different person. I keep wondering, why can't I stop doing this?"

My heart broke for the little boy with the greyest eyes sitting in front of me. When Simon told me he'd like me to meet someone, I totally wasn't expecting to meet an eight-year old with the most complex tics I'd ever seen anyone have. Grimacing, loud sniffing, clapping, rolling eyes, throat clearing, whistling, touching the Rubik's cube that sat right in front of him. He also twisted his fingers in a way that caused me to wince inside due to imagining the pain he was unwillingly putting himself through— and I'd only been seated ten minutes.

There was a tendency to feel the urge to tic when one was around another person who was ticking, and though I felt a slight urge to shrug, I didn't because I was fully focused on him, my eyebrows furrowed.

"Every time I go to school, my friends laugh at me—"

"Then they're not your friends," I told him softly.

His eyes watered and I swallowed, scared that what I said had hurt him, but he said as he started to twist his fingers, "They used to be my friends before all of this."

"If they would make fun of you now, then maybe they were never your friends."

"Nico and Willow don't," he cleared his throat about five times.

"Then  they are probably your friends," his eyes remained fixed on mine, and all I wanted to do was give him a hug. There was nothing like being unable to do things normally. Tics become a part of your life and interfere with almost everything. They leave you frustrated and unmotivated to do anything, and I could tell this little boy in front of me was frustrated. He bit on his lower lip, and I could sense that it was another one of his tics.

"I'm just tired of people—" he sniffed, "— staring at me like I'm weird. And I wish my classmates would stop calling me annoying," he sniffed again. "The other day at school, Ashley knocked down her lunch on accident, and they laughed at her and said she had the Axel disease."

His name was Axel.

This time, I noticed a tear roll down his cheeks, and I felt emotion so thick that it stuck in my throat.

"I don't want people thinking it's an Axel disease," he wiped his tears before twisting his fingers.

I looked at him for a while, "What if you don't go to school anymore, Axel?"

He shook his head immediately, "Then I won't have friends anymore. I won't see Willow and Nico again," my eyes darted to his hands as he was about to twist his fingers, so I leaned forward and took his hands in mine instead. It seemed like a struggle for him, but I held his hands tighter and he relaxed after a while.

"You can still see them," I assured him.

"How are you so sure?"

"Because I had to stop going to school too, and I still see my best friend all the time," I smiled softly at him, and his eyes softened, "You don't have Tourette's Syndrome."

"I do, and I'm sure that's why Simon wanted you to talk to me," I chuckled lowly, "But it's getting better, and I'm sure you'll eventually get better too when you grow older."

"How old were you when you had your first tic?" He asked, shrugging.

"Seven. I couldn't stop blinking," I answered. "It was only diagnosed when I was eight."

I saw his eyes flicker with hope, "So, you've known Doctor Porter since you were eight?" He was referring to Simon.

"Yes, and he's awesome."