𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 10
Chip feels a
lump in his
throat, his heart
heavy. He wants
to hug his dad,
to make it all
better, but he
remembers his mom's
words and stays put.
He looks at Plankton,
his mind racing
to understand.
Karen's eyes are
full of emotion
as she watches
them both. "Chip,"
she says, her voice
steady. "You don't
have to apologize.
You didn't do anything
wrong. Your dad's
brain is just different.
And sometimes, it needs
more time to process
things, okay?"
Chip nods,
his gaze never
leaving Plankton.
"But I want to
make it right,"
he whispers.
Plankton's stims
slow down a bit.
"I know," he says,
his voice quieter.
"And I'm s-sorry
I did not tell
you last night."
Chip sniffles. "It's ok,
Dad. I just...I just
wanted to help."
Plankton's antennae
still, his face
softening slightly.
He looks at Chip,
his single eye
full of regret. "I know,"
he says, his voice
barely a whisper.
"Now let's do this
science fair of yours.."
Karen nods,
seeing his effort
to move on. "Okay,
let's get going!"
The three of them
go to the reserved
theater for Chip's
event. Karen and
Plankton find seats
in the audience to
watch the competition.
The stage buzzes with
excitement as Chip
sets up his project by
the other contestants.
Plankton's antennae
twitch, absorbing
the cacophony of
sounds and smells.
The lights are
too bright, the
chatter too loud,
but he tries to
keep it together.
He's proud of Chip.
Though the sensory
bombardment was
too much for Plankton's
system to handle,
for his son, he'd try.
He watches Chip
nervously fidget
with his project,
his heart racing.
This is his son's
moment, and he
doesn't want to
ruin it with another
outburst or meltdown.
He grips the
armrests of his
chair, his body tense.
The announcer's
megaphone pierces
the air, making
his antennae spike
with discomfort. The
sharp, high-pitched
noise feels like a
knife to his sensitive
ears. He flinches,
his eye squeezing
shut involuntarily as
his hands fly to
his head, trying
to muffle the sound.
Karen notices
his distress, her
face etched with
concern. She
reaches for him, but
thinks better of it.
"Plankton," she
says, her voice
gentle but firm.
"The megaphone
will be here
all day. We need
to find a way to
make i---"
He cuts her off.
"I know," he snaps.
"But I can't just ignore
it!" His antennae
spike again as
another announcement
blares through the
speakers. He winces,
his body visibly
shaking with the
overstimulation.
Karen nods,
understanding.
"Let's go outside
for a bit," she
suggests, her voice
soothing. "Maybe
some fresh air will
he--"
But before she can
finish, Plankton
shakes his head
frantically. "No," he
whispers, his eye
squeezed shut. "I-I
can't leave Chip." His
body is rigid with
the effort of
containing his
sensitive auditory
processing system. He
flinches, his antennae
retracting, his skin
crawling. "Chip's up soon,"
he stammers. "Can't leave
now." His voice
cracks with
anxiety, his body
trembling with the
effort of staying
seated. Karen nods,
understanding the
importance of this
moment for both of
them.
The lights dim,
and the theater
silences as the
judges take their
places. Plankton's
heart races as he
watches Chip approach
the podium, his
hands fidgeting
nervously with
his project. The
megaphone booms
once more,
announcing the
beginning of the
presentations.
The first contestant
steps up, their
project a whirl of
colors and
sounds that
make Plankton's antennae
spike. He grits
his teeth, trying
to focus on his
breathing, but the
clapping that follows
is like nails on a
chalkboard to his
sensitive hearing. He
wishes he could
cover his ears, but
his pride in Chip
keeps him in his
seat, his hands
white-knuckled on the
armrests.
As the applause
continues, Plankton's
body starts to
shake, his antennae
twitching erratically.
He feels the pressure
building in his
chest, the need
to escape this
tormenting cacophony.
The clapping seems
to go on forever,
each sound a
sting to his
overwhelmed mind.
Karen notices his
distress, her
heart aching. She
reaches for his hand,
but he flinches away,
his eye wide as Chip
demonstrates his
project. The applause
erupts again, a round of
cheers. Plankton
squeezes his eye
shut, his antennae
flattened against
his head. He
wants to scream, to
run, but he's
frozen, his eye
squeezed shut, his
breaths coming in
quick, shallow
gasps. But then it
proves to be too
much for his body.
Karen's hand
instinctively goes
to his shoulder.
"Plankton?" She asks,
concern etched into
her voice.
He doesn't
answer, his body
now rigid with
pain. He feels like
his insides are
being torn apart.
The noise, the
crowd, it's all
too much. He's
going to be sick.
He can feel it,
the bile rising
in his throat.
The lights are
spinning, and the
world is closing in.
Karen's grip
on his shoulder
tightens. "What's
wrong?" She asks,
alarmed.
Plankton's eye
flips open, and he
swallows hard.
"I-I don't...I ca--"
His words cut off as
his stomach revolts,
his body lurching
forward as he vomits,
sounds and crowds
of the science fair
overwhelming him.
Karen jumps to
action, guiding
Plankton out
quickly, her arm
around his
wobbling frame.
The coolness of the
hallway is a
relief, but Plankton
can't stop shaking,
his antennae flat
against his head.
"I-I'm sorry," he
whispers, his voice
shaking as much
as his body. "I-I
couldn't take it."
Karen nods. "It's
okay," she says, her
tone calm and
steady. "Let's get
you cleaned up." She
knows his sensory
overload can lead to
such outbursts, and
it breaks her heart to
see him in such
distress, his
unshed tears.
They make their
way to a water
fountain, running
cool water over his
hands as he rinses
his mouth. "Sorry,
Karen," he says,
his voice barely
above a whisper.
"I didn't mean to
do this." He looks
at her, his single eye
filled with guilt. "I
wanted to be there
for Chip."
Karen takes his
hand. "You can't
control how your
brain reacts to
things, and that's
okay."