DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 3
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
Karen sees the pain in Chip's eyes.
She knows they have to explain
sooner rather than later. Plankton's
condition is a part of their lives,
and Chip deserves to know.
Yet she also understands her
husband's need for privacy.
"Plankton," she says calmly,
placing a hand on his back.
"Chip just wants to help."
Plankton's face contorts in
frustration, his antennae
twitching uncontrollably.
Chip, feeling more lost
than ever, steps back further.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he murmurs,
his voice thick with unshed
tears. "I didn't mean to-"
"Chip, it's okay," Karen says,
cutting in before Plankton
can reply. She gives her husband
a knowing look, her screen filled with
concern.
Oblivious to his dad's autistic
spectrum disorder and its effects
on his sensory processing, Chip
continues to hover anxiously.
"But Mom, why won't Dad tell me?"
He sniffles, wiping his screen
with the back of his hand.
Karen takes a deep breath,
trying to find the right words.
"Chip, your dad's brain works
a little differently than most.
Sometimes, things can be too much
for him, and his body needs
a break. That's all it was."
Chip's eyes are wide, but fear still
lingers. "But why couldn't
he-"
"It's okay, Chip," she interjects,
placing a comforting arm around
his shoulder. "Daddy's just tired.
Why don't you go wash up, and I'll
talk to him, okay?"
Chip nods, his eyes still
fixed on Plankton, who
now avoids his gaze. As he walks
to the bathroom, his mind
whirls with questions and fear.
Why won't his dad tell him what's
going on? What's so scary about
his brain needing a break?
While Chip is washing
his screen, Plankton turns to
Karen, his voice low and
shaking. "How could I have
let this happen?" he whispers.
Karen wraps her arms around
his trembling frame. "You couldn't
have known, Plankton. It's not
your fault. But we do need
to talk to him. He's seen it now,
and he's scared."
Plankton nods, his eye
dull with fear. "I know," he whispers.
He's never wanted Chip to know
about his condition, but now
it seems like there's no choice.
He's always been so sensitive
especially when his
brain's in overload.
Karen gives him a comforting
squeeze. "We'll tell him
together," she says, her voice
steady. "We'll explain it in a
way he can understand."
Chip finishes washing his
screen and returns to the
bedroom, his eyes red and puffy.
He sees his mom hugging his
dad, and the sight brings a
tiny bit of comfort. But he
still feels like there's something
he's missing, something
important. But seeing the hug,
Chip goes to do the same...
But Plankton flinches at
his touch, his antennae quivering
with overstimulation. Chip
pulls away, his eyes wide with
confusion and hurt. "What's
wrong, Dad?" he asks, not
understanding his dad's
reaction.
"Don't touch me," Plankton says,
his voice cold. Chip's eyes
well up with tears again. "But I'm
just trying to hug you," he
whimpers, feeling lost and
alone.
Karen intervenes, her voice
soft. "Plankton, sweetie, Chip
doesn't know. He's just a kid,
trying to understand."
Plankton sighs, his antennae
drooping. He knows she's right.
"Chip," Karen begins, her tone
gentle. "You know how sometimes
you get overwhelmed, and you
just need a hug?" Chip nods.
"Well, Daddy gets overwhelmed
too, but sometimes, hugs aren't
what he needs. Sometimes,
his brain needs a different kind
of comfort."
Chip looks up at her, his
screen still wet with tears. "But
why can't I hug him?" he asks,
his voice small. "You're hugging..."
"Chip," Karen says, taking
his hand. "Your dad's brain
is special. Sometimes, when
it gets too much input, he
needs some space. He can't help
it; it's just ho-"
"But why can't I just hug him?"
Chip interrupts, his voice
desperate.
Plankton looks away, his
face contorting with the
effort to hold back his own
tears. "It's not that simple,
Chip," he says, his voice
cracking.
Chip's confusion grows.
He can't understand why a
simple hug is causing so much
pain. "But why?" he asks, his
voice trembling. "You always
hug Mom.."
Plankton sighs, feeling the
weight of his secret pressing
down on him. "It's not the
same," he says, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Mom knows
how to... to handle it."
Chip's eyes fill with tears
again. "But why not me?" he asks.
"I just wa-"
Plankton's voice is harsher
than he intends. "Because you
don't know how!" he snaps.
Chip's face falls, the rejection
hitting him like a slap.
Karen's eyes dart
between them. She
understands Plankton's struggle
with his sensory issues, but
this isn't the time for anger.
"Plankton," she says firmly,
"Chip just wants to help. He doesn't
understand, and we can't blame
him for that." She looks at Chip,
his screen full of hurt and confusion.
"Let's just tell him, okay? Try again
Plankton.."
Plankton nods reluctantly,
his antennae still twitching.
"Chip," he starts, his voice
softer now. "When I was being
born, my brain didn't fully
develop the way it should've.
So, I'm different, and I don't
need you to 'fix' me. HAPPY?"
Chip stares at his dad,
his eyes wide and brimming
with tears. He doesn't
understand. "Different, how?"
he asks, his voice small.
Karen takes over. "Your
father has a condition
called autism, Chip. It means
his brain interprets things
differently, especially when
it comes to touch."
Chip pulls away, his face
scrunching up. "But that means
you're broken!" he cries out,
his voice filled with horror.
"You're a monster! An autistic
freak!" The words slip out before
he can stop them, echoing the
taunts of his schoolmates. "It
makes you nothing but an
embarrassment!"
The room goes still, the
atmosphere thick with pain.
Karen's eyes widen in shock
as Plankton's body tenses.
"Chip, no!" she gasps, but
it's too late. Plankton's
face crumples. The words had cut
deeper than Chip could've
ever imagined. "Get out,"
Plankton murmurs, his voice
barely audible. "I don't
want you here."
Chip's eyes widen, his
screen flushing with guilt.
He didn't mean it; he was
just repeating what he's
heard. "But, Dad," he
whimpers, reaching out.
But Plankton flinches away,
his antennae drooping. "Get out,"
he repeats, his voice
defeated. "I don't need you
right now."
Chip's eyes fill with
hurt as he takes a step back.
"But Dad..." he whispers, his
hand reaching out instinctively.
Plankton doesn't take it. "I said
leave," he murmurs, his
voice filled with pain. "You
get out, Chip. Just go."
The finality in his tone sends
a shiver down Karen's spine.
Chip's hand falls to his side,
his eyes brimming with
tears.
Karen's eyes are glossed
with unshed tears as she watches
Chip back away, the hurt in
his voice etching a painful
silence into the room. "Dad, I-"
But Plankton cuts him off,
his antennae quivering with
emotion. "I don't want to see you
right now, Chip," he says,
his voice barely above a
whisper. "Please, just go."
The rejection hits Chip like
a wave, and he nods, his lip
trembling. He turns and
runs from the room, his sobs
echoing down the hallway.
Karen turns to
Plankton, her screen
filled with sorrow
and understanding.
"Plankton," she whispers,
her voice cracking. "He
didn't realize what he said.
He doesn't know how such
words can hurt you."
Plankton turns to her,
his eye filled with a sadness
so deep it's almost tangible.
"But he said it," he murmurs.
"He basically called me a freak."
Karen's heart breaks at his
pain, and she sighs heavily.
"He's just a child, Plankton,"
she says softly. "He doesn't
underst--"
"I don't care," Plankton
interrupts, his voice brittle.
"I can't handle it right now."
He turns away.
Karen nods, giving him
the space he needs. She
understands the depth of
his pain and the struggle
his condition brings him.