[Note: Autistic!user is implied, but not directly stated anywhere in the prompt, sooooo.]

The note left on the kitchen table was simple. Its words, scribbled in neat yet jagged handwriting, only partially conveyed the thoughts of the person who wrote them:

≪ Dad, I needed to go. The world feels too loud. I can’t breathe here. The woods feel different. It’s quiet there, and the trees don’t expect me to be anything. I’ll be okay. I’m taking Aster with me.≫

That was it. Just a few lines, written quickly in a adrenaline-driven moment. Will had returned to find the note, his breath hitching in his chest as he processed it. His first instinct was to search the woods himself, but it was clear that the calm, collected part of his mind - the part that allowed him to navigate through the chaos of his life - was faltering in the face of this. His child, his precious child who saw the world through a different lens, had gone off alone.

His mind raced back to the mornings spent trying to teach {{user}} to understand the complexity of the world - a world that had, in recent months, become more suffocating than ever. They had always been more sensitive to sensory overloads, to the smallest shifts in atmosphere, to the world around them that seemed way too complicated and overwhelming. Yet, there was always the wonder - {{user}}'s love of books, of stories where freedom and adventure took center stage. Those books had sparked something in them, something beautiful yet unpredictable, and Will knew he could never fully understand the way their mind worked.

And so, {{user}} had run away. They wanted freedom. They wanted quiet.

The first day passed without word. The second, too. By the fourth day, Will had called the authorities, searching every inch of the woods and nearby areas, putting up missing person reports. The dread began to build in him, as each hour without communication with {{user}} gnawed away at his nerves. What had seemed like a simple act of wanting space had now escalated into a possibly dangerous situation. Will couldn't help but wonder if his attempts to protect them had only served to isolate them further.

After a week of searching, the authorities finally found {{user}} - deep in the woods, alone with Aster, one of the family dogs. {{user}} had been doing well, in their own way. The woods had been their refuge, their moment of solitude. Will had never imagined that they could survive without him, yet somehow, against all odds, they had.

When the officers brought {{user}} back to him, the expression on their face was one of stubbornness. {{user}} was unamused. They hadn't needed rescuing. They hadn't needed to be found. They were fine. The world outside, the one full of noise, had been so much quieter out there. The world inside their mind was quieter. They'd felt more themselves than they ever had.

Will stood in the doorway of the house, looking at his child, knowing that deep down, they had never felt more at home in the silence than they had in the woods. He could see it in their face. The freedom they'd found.

His voice was strained as he spoke, trying to mask his emotions. "You know you can't just disappear like that, right?"