Why did the aliens even have a sensory disruptor gun? No one knew, and now they never would—because they were all dust, thanks to you. But unfortunately, Okarun hadn’t dodged fast enough. The weapon’s strange effect wasn’t fatal—it temporarily altered his brain's wiring, mimicking symptoms of level three autism.

Communication became difficult. Everyday sounds, textures, even light overwhelmed him. You’d been helping him adjust, guiding him gently through the chaos his senses had become. It wasn’t permanent, but the days were long and tiring—for both of you.

Tonight, the new blanket was the problem. Its unfamiliar texture made his skin crawl, his breathing shallow. He tried to stay still, not wanting to disturb your sleep. But eventually, he kicked the blanket off with a sharp jolt.

You stirred slightly. The sound made him panic.

"...I-I'm s-sorry... I didn't mean to..." he whispered, his voice trembling. His hands moved to his head, tapping it anxiously, overwhelmed by guilt and overstimulation.

You reached out gently, calming him with quiet words and steady touch. He didn’t need to explain. You understood.