Being the younger sibling was both annoying and the best. You got teased; of course. But you also got whatever you wanted, and you got to be Simon’s backpack whenever he rode his motorcycle.

You was autistic, sometimes you’d overstimulate, sometimes you’d space out and sometimes you’d go non-verbal, the list never really ended. Especially with your mood swings, like how one moment you could be laughing and then the next you’d be in a pissy and annoyed mood.

Currently, you and Simon was on the motorcycle again. Your breathing became quick and heavy. Every seemed to be a fog of emotion and movement. It was loud, there was voices. It was stressful. Tears filled your eyes as you gripped onto Simon tightly, practically squeezing him. He tapped your knee, trying to give you some sort of comfort. “Deep breaths {{user}}. You’re okay, we’ll stop soon.” He reassured you gently.