Completely Attached

16. Alex

Alex was worrying.

For the last few weeks Britain had been sort of out of it, and she had begun to worry. Usually Brit could power through most things, but this time it seemed like he was permanently out of it. Ok maybe not permanently, but he'd certainly been out of commission for a while.

For the last few weeks he'd been chronically fatigued, tired, irritable, and he had very low tolerance for external stimuli, which sometimes meant herself. Alex was quite upset at this, because sometimes he would completely withdraw from any and all contact with her. It started it out with late texts back and missed phone calls, which she could tolerate because she'd done the same things before. But she was becoming concerned when she didn't hear from him for days on end.

For her it was tortured, because once she'd become attached to someone, it was complete devotion which she expected in return. But now she was beginning to feel anxious for him, and to be quite honest kind of irritated, because he had begun to ghost her, and when people ghosted Alex they could usually count on the dissolution of whatever she shared with that person, be it friendship or relationship.

Alex was now sitting next to Britain who, she hadn't seen over the course of the last week and a half. Sitting their she observed his eyes, which were plagued by dark rings embedded around them. His hair, normally disheveled but at least with a shape, was now matted and not picked out, which was concerning. This was coupled with the fact that he had begun to whistle and tick a lot more, and his rocking back and forth had increased exponentially.

What was really concerning was his emotional state, well what she could make of it. Britain's emotions and facial expressions were normally hard to read, and this sometimes meant that's he was left guessing as what he was thinking, but this time was different. He was often found looking pensive and stressed, a distressed look on his face when he normally didn't have to feel that way.

"Brit what's wrong?", Alex asked with a concerned voice, obviously trying to break the silence that had been wedged between them for last hour and a half. She searched his face for an answer, and was met with that pensive face, except it was now directed toward her and not the floor. He was fiddling his hands and he would whistle every few seconds.

"Nothing", was his bland response, though she could tell that he wasn't being truthful. She could tell that he was thinking, or ruminating at the very least.

"Don't lie to me, what's wrong?", she asked, this time with a bit a of prodding concern in her voice, noticing that he had begun to visibly curl up,and he was now sucking his thumb, something he only did when he was about to have an anxiety attack or when he was about to begin to dissociate. These were new terms which Alex had learned over the course of the last few months. Since she had begun going to therapy, Alex had taken the time to ask about Britain's autism. From the moment she learned about his symptoms, Alex had begun to get a better understanding of how he worked, or more specifically what to look for if he was having trouble.

Right now was one of those times.

Alex had formed a routine for when this happened to Britain, and it usually helped to a degree. She would find his weighted blanket and his favorite pillows and would make the bed up for him so that he could lie down. Usually when he did this he wasn't sleeping, but only resting as his brain and body tried catching up to each other. She would then try to cuddle with him, as long as he permitted her, cause during this time it was just like when their relationship first started, Britain being touchy or very antsy around her.

"Take as much time as you need, I'm here when you're ready to talk", was Alex next words as she got behind him and lay there with him, occasionally rubbing his arms and pecking his lips as he calmed down over the next few hours.

Britain

Britain felt like trash.

For the last few weeks, Britain had been feeling like everything that was going on was slowly crashing down around him. School, work, obligations, and even his own health seemed like a lot, and it was like the all lay themselves on his shoulders like a ton of bricks. While he could manage pretty well before, he was now at a point where he didn't even want to try anymore. It was like his brain was fried or his operating system had crashed.

"Brit, what's wrong?", was the question that left Alex's mouth, obviously out of concern for her significantly other, who was currently melting down on the inside.

"Nothing", is what he said, the lie being easily detected but his bland expression making it almost impossible to pick up unless you knew him personally. Britain often ignores his own feelings until the last second, at which point he was beyond the normal recovery time, requiring weeks and even months in order to get himself back to place where he needed to be.

Don't lie to me, what's wrong?", was Alex's response, and her reply caused him to do something he found embarrassing but necessary. Whenever Britain got to stressed, he started to rock back and forth, or when circumstances became so strenuous, he would curl up and suck on his thumb. He didn't know why he did it, but it was a way which helped him ground himself again.

Britain was sure that Alex was tried of this, especially since it had been going on for about a month now, but he really couldn't help it. It was something called autistic burnout. Burnout for Autistic people was the point at which their brains and bodies could no longer cope as it would regularly due to an overload or stress, responsibilities, or life circumstances. It as of their brains have put themselves on autopilot and anything that adds to the load adds to the burnout.

Most people could take off a week or two, but with people on the spectrum, this time lasted from weeks, months, and sometimes even a year or more. It was a time where they really didn't have the proper coping skills to deal with life. This is how Britain felt now. He was trying to regulate and recover, and that unfortunately just took time.

"Take as much time as you need, I'm here when you're ready to talk", is what Britain heard, relaxing as he first felt a weighted blanket fall on top of him, and then a body positioning itself behind him. Britain gave no outward indication of his approval other than backing up into the body, and even then he wasn't really being affectionate, just enjoying the presence behind him.

Britain had very few coping mechanisms, and he was happy that Alex took the time to help him. He'd never truly had a support system, and along with therapy, one of his coping mechanisms was prayer. His relationship with God was something which he constantly made efforts to maintain and never neglected, and seeing as God calls people to pray without ceasing and earnestly, he made good on that exhortation and always when Yah in the name of His Son for whatever he needed. And right now what he needed was relief from exhaustion.

"Alex can you do me a favor?"

"Yea B, whatever you need."

"There's a list of scriptures next to my Bible on a peace of paper, I need you to read them to me." Britain watched as Alex got up and wen to his dresser and got the Bible and the piece of paper and started flipping through it. She eventually found them all, Britain being appreciative when she began to read them.

Isaiah 26: 3-4

Psalm 23, 34, and 103

Matthew 11:27-30

Having these being read to him brought comfort to Brit, who felt so overwhelmed that it felt that is brain was out of memory. Like a computer lagging because of a lack of storage space. His relationship with God was one of the few things which kept Britain going, because for him HE was everything.