Hangin' with the Unloved kids

After the first two hours of incessant hard rock, Sam turns the knob of the radio and tries to exclude the noise by focusing on something else, but Dean isn't talking and he's not in the mood to start a conversation. Dean ends up turning the volume back up and Sam wants to slap his hand away. He feels it, the noise. It's like it's trying to crawl under his skin, into his bones, trying to shake him up from the inside. He hates it, he can't ignore it, and he starts clenching his fists tighter, his blunt nails digging into his palms.

Dean doesn't notice, he actually needs the music to make his brain shut up most of the times, but Sam feels like he wants to punch him because everything is just so loud. First it's the rage, clenched fists, gritted teeth and tense jaw. Hot flushes crawling on his skin, making it hard to breathe, hard to focus on anything but the noise. Now he's sweating, breathing harder and gripping the leather seat tight.

“Turn that fucking shit down,” he manages to spit out, bitter and breathless.

Dean finally takes a good look at him and frowns in confusion, hand stopping on the knob of the radio.

“Oh, come on. Don't be a bitch.” he says instead, and Sam feels the sound of his voice as if Dean was talking right into his ear and he shudders, takes in a larger amount of air, he breathes in until his lungs can't expand any more.

Dean turns the volume higher, and the noise hits Sam like a slap, invading his ears, his bones, and he can't focus on one single thought because it feels like he's trying to whisper at a death metal concert. He feels ants crawling on his skin, anger riling him up, and before he can think about stopping, he slaps the power button off and he hunches over the dashboard, hands in his hair and breathing hard, every intake of breath making him shake, the cold air burning down his throat.

“Pull over,” he speaks, and he doesn't know if it's a whisper or a shout, his head ringing and now every little thing he can feel with his five senses is too much. Dean looks worried now, as he wordlessly stops the car in the emergency lane.

Sam starts shedding his jacket, his sweater, he rolls down the window and the freezing, crisp air of the night hits him and makes him shiver, but he's still sweating and breathing like he's been running for his life. His throat feels dry, it's like swallowing glass, but he can't speak right now. Noises are now heightened and distant at the same time, and he can't even stand the texture of his own hair in his hands right now. He pulls on it, the pain giving him something else to hold onto.

Dean grips his shoulder with a hand that feels too hot, scorching and burning on his skin as he gets in Sam's space and tries to shake him.

“Sam, what's wrong? Hey, talk to me!” Dean yells, just like he always does when Sam is hurt, but this makes him wince, hiss and sob.

He tries to wriggle out of Dean's grip, face still hidden between his arms, for which he feels grateful when tears start rolling down his cheeks and he shakes and sniffles, cold sweat on his skin and too many stimuli all at once that make him want to bash his head through a wall.

“Shut up, don't touch me, please,” he utters out, and Dean stills. He raises his hand from Sam's shoulder but his eyes never leave him as he watches his little brother break down, his warm breath forming condensation clouds in the freezing cold passenger compartment.

people with misophonia/sensory issues:

misophonia is a sensory disorder where certain sounds (things like chewing, breathing, tapping, any of those little human sounds we make all the time) cause a horrible surge of emotional distress in you. it’s not being “annoyed” or “grossed out” at a sound, it’s having an intense terrible feeling triggered inside you when you hear the noises that makes you want to scream or tear your hair out or claw out your own eardrums with your bare hands just to escape the sound. it’s terrible, and it’s awful, and there’s really no way to make it better or cure it. misokinesia is the same thing but with sights instead of sounds, like fingers moving or someone twirling their hair or even just specific markings on a piece of paper

Take care of yourself, do what you need to do to get through the season--whether that be wearing earplugs/headphones/ear defenders, leaving spaces where you don't feel comfortable, or requesting accommodations from the people around you. If that's not possible, I wish you all the best, and please know that my ask box is open if you need to vent your way through the season!