TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚
Pt. 23
Plankton sits stiffly
on the couch, antennae
twitching as he tries to
make sense of the new
environment. Karen sits
by him with Chip as
Hanna herself sits in
front of the couch by them.
"So," Hanna says, her
voice high-pitched.
"What should we do first?"
Plankton's antennae
twitch, his eye darting
to Karen again. She
squeezes his hand gently.
"Why don't we take a look
at the guest room?" Karen
suggests, her voice calm.
"Where we'll sleep and
put all our stuff.."
Hanna nods eagerly. "Follow
me!" She leads them down
a hallway, the floorboards
creaking underfoot. Plankton's
heart races. New places meant
new sounds, new smells,
new everything. He feels
his body tense, his stims
wanting to take over. But he
holds back.
The guest room is a riot
of color, the walls adorned
with various knick-knacks
that Hanna has collected
over the years. Plankton's
eye widens at the visual
stimulation, and his antennae
twitch rapidly. He knows he
needs to find a way to cope.
"Well, that's is your
shared room," Hanna
says cheerfully. "I
hope you like it!"
Plankton nods, his
eye taking in the
whirlwind of color and
patterns. It's a lot to
process. "It's...vibrant,"
he says, his voice tight.
Hanna cackles at Plankton's
comment, her laughter too
loud. "Oh, I just LOVE
color!" she says, not
noticing his discomfort.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his hand clenching into a
fist. He takes a deep
breath, willing his stims
away. He doesn't want
to ruin the moment, doesn't
want Hanna to notice. But
his senses are on overload,
his mind racing.
"Thank you," Karen says
with a forced smile, stepping
forward to set down their
bags. She can feel the tension
radiating from her husband.
Hanna sits, her smile not
dimming. "Oh, I just know
we're going to have so
much fun together," she
gushes. "AND I've got a
whole drawer full of board
games for us to play!"
Plankton nods, his smile
slightly strained, wondering
how much longer he can
keep up the façade.
Hanna's chatter fills the
room. "I've got
special movies for us
tonight! And I've got
everything from classics to
the LATEST SCI-FI!"
Plankton nods politely,
his antennae quivering.
He's trying to keep up with
the rapid-fire conversation.
"Uh, sure." He responds.
Hanna's eyes light up at his
interest in science fiction.
"Oh, I KNOW you're going to
love them," she says. His antennae
twitch with the effort to keep
up with the conversation,
his eye glazed over with
overstimulation. But Hanna
doesn't notice. She pinches
his shoulder, her laughter
bubbly. "You're just SO
sweet!"
Plankton flinches at
the contact, his body
wanting to retreat. He
swallows hard, trying to
find the words to express
his discomfort without
offending Hanna. But she's
already chatting on, her
energy unstoppable.
Her hand lands on his
knee, giving it a
squeeze. "Oh, I'm just
so thrilled to have
you here," she says.
But Plankton's mind is
elsewhere, his vision
starting to waver as
his body fights the
onset of an absence
seizure. The room
spins around him, and
his heart races. He
knows the signs all too
well, the sudden
disconnection from the
world as his brain goes
into overdrive.
Karen's eyes dart to
Plankton's face, reading
the signs. She knows
what's happening.
"Why don't we give
them a few minutes to
settle in?" Karen suggests,
interrupting Hanna's
enthusiastic chatter. "They've
got to be tired from the trip."
Hanna nods, her smile
slightly puzzled but
understanding. "Oh, of
course!" she says,
backing out of the room.
The door closes with a
click, leaving the three
of them. Plankton's antennae
twitch faster, his eye
unfocused. He feels the
world slipping away.
"Dad?" Chip whispers,
his hand tentatively reaching
out. Plankton's breathing
quickens, his heart
pounding in his chest.
Karen's voice is calm,
a beacon in the storm.
"Plankton, remember your
stims," she says gently.
"Find something to help
you ground."
Plankton's gaze flickers,
his antennae moving erratically.
He searches for his
sensory bag, his eye
landing on it by the
foot of the bed.
Karen notices, her hand
quickly grabbing the bag.
"Here," she says, her voice
calm and steady. "Use
your noise-canceling
blindfold."
Plankton takes it, his
hands shaking as he
tries to put it over his eye.
The darkness is immediate,
his other senses
intensifying. He can feel
the fabric against his skin,
his heartbeat in his chest.
He breathes in deeply, his
chest rising and falling as
he fights against the seizure.
Chip watches, his heart
racing. He's seen this
before, but it never gets
easy. He wants to help, but
his mom's words echo in his
mind. 'Let him be'. So, he sits.
Karen's hand finds its way
to Plankton's, her grip
firm and reassuring. "You're okay,
sweetie," she says softly.
"We're here for you."
Plankton nods, his
breaths shallow, his antennae
twitching. The pressure
of Hanna's touch and the
sensory overload of the
new environment had been too
much. He'd felt the seizure
coming, the world closing
in on him. Yet Karen's
voice, her touch, it helps.
He closes his eye,
his hand fumbling for the
stim toy from the bag.
It's a small, velvet-covered
sphere, and he clutches it
tightly. The texture is
soothing, grounding.
The room is quiet, save
for their soft breaths and
the occasional creak of the
house. Chip's heart thuds
against his chest as he
watches his dad, willing him
to be okay. Plankton's hand
squeezes the velvet sphere,
his other hand reaching out
to find Karen's.
Karen's eyes never leave
his face. She's seen this
so many times before, the
battle he wages internally.
Her heart breaks a little
each time, but her
expression remains calm.
Chip watches, his own heart
racing. He's seen this
before too, the way his
dad's body fights against
his mind. He's learned that
silence is often the best
medicine in these moments.
Karen continues to
speak in low, even tones.
"It's okay, Plankton," she
whispers. "You're safe."
Her hand never leaves
his, the connection
unbroken. Chip
wants to copy her,
his hand going onto
his dad's knee..
But Plankton's body
only rejects Chip's
touch, unable to handle
any more stimulation.
Karen's voice remains
steady, her grip on
his hand tight. "Breathe,
sweetie," she whispers.
"In, and ou-"
Her words are cut off by
the sudden silence. Plankton's
body goes still, his antennae
ceasing their erratic movement.
Karen notices Chip's hand on
Plankton's knee.
"Chip, buddy," she says gently.
"Let's give him some space."
Chip nods, his eyes wide
with concern. He
moves his hand away.
Chip sits, his eyes glued to
his dad. "D-dad?" he
whispers, his voice shaky.
Plankton's hand moves
to the blindfold, looking
around the room as if
seeing it for the first time.
"It's okay," Karen repeats.
"It's just a seizure, Chip.
They're not uncommon."
"Need," Plankton says,
his voice faint, like it's
coming from far away.
"I need... I need... I don't
know what I need." Karen
knew that Plankton's still
not with them yet when he
talks like this.
Karen nods, her voice still
soft. "You're okay, Plankton.
You're just having a seizure."
Chip nods, trying to
swallow his fear. He's
learned that talking calmly
helps bring him back.
"It's okay," Chip echoes
his mom. "We're right here."
Plankton's eye darts around
the room, his antennae still.
"Need...Plankton," he murmurs.
The gibberish isn't uncommon
during these episodes,
his mind trying to find
comfort in familiar concepts.
Plankton's eye, still
unfocused and glazed,
continues to dart around
the room. "Yes?"
he murmurs again, his voice
barely above a whisper.
"You're okay," Karen
says firmly, her voice
a gentle anchor in the
storm of sensory chaos.
"We're all here for you."
Chip nods in agreement,
his voice shaky but
determined. "Just breathe,
Da-"
But Plankton's grip on
his sanity is slipping.
His words come out
in a jumble, nonsensical.
"Wash... blue...cuckoo?"
his voice is a distant echo,
his mind searching for
comfort in familiar things.
Karen's heart aches, her
thumb rubbing his hand.
"It's okay, Plankton,"
she repeats. "You're
safe." Chip watches, his
eyes brimming with tears.
He doesn't understand what's
happening, but he knows
his dad needs them.