#nd!you

“fuck! i– god, i can’t figure this out.”

zayne perks his head up from his array of books, eyes darting to your panicked face. a glance between the mess of a task in front of you and your twitching expression is enough, and he’s up in an instant.

he knows this voice.

you look up at him, eyes brimming with tears, and feel utterly helpless. you can’t help feeling like a child, getting frustrated and wanting to just burst into tears at issues any other person would probably be fine with. you try your best to tell yourself that you can’t help it, that this is just who you are, but those facts aren’t enough to hide the insecurity within.

so you’re hesitant. you don’t want his help, you want to do this by yourself. you’re a fucking adult after all, this is a simple task you can put yourself through.

but when you look at the mess in front of you, your hands are instantly scrounging and wringing themselves out under the table. and it feels like you can breathe a little bit better - but it’s not enough to stop the stream of whines that escape. you can’t hide that from him.

why can’t you do this? why can’t you keep up? be like the others? who else is acting this way towards a simple problem?

and zayne’s quiet. he watches you through the motions - not because he doesn’t want to help or he doesn’t know what to do - but he knows you want space. he knows now isn’t the time to reassure you that stimming in front of him is okay.

he understands it’s never personal with him, that right now space is most beneficial for you and not an issue in your relationship.

so, he tidies up. he doesn’t organise intensely, he doesn’t put everything away - he picks up a few pieces off the ground. he grabs a cold glass of water because he doesn’t need to ask if you need more. he gets a few sweet treats too, hoping the variety will mean you’ll pick something to eat. his evol activates and he’s chilling the room to the temperature you like most.

in every step he takes, he’s quiet. he doesn’t bang around too much. not because you’ll lash out, but because it’s another nuisance added onto the problems you’re already facing.

and his heart hurts anyway, hearing your noises, watching your form sway gently in the rhythm you like most - the one he rocks you to when you’re struggling to sleep. zayne wishes more than anything that he could help you like that now, but he knows you’ll make it through this, like you always do. this is just a little mishap.

when he places the items down, you don’t look at them. even the sound of them being setting down irks you, and nausea fills at the sensation that floods you. it’s thick, and rolls around uneasily in your throat. when you squeeze your eyes shut, you focus on the sound of his soft footsteps leaving.

only when you’re alone do you cry. it’s nothing too bad - a sniffle here and there. and then some more when you think about how you reacted and felt. and then more. but it ends eventually, your hands stop twisting, goosebumps rise on your skin from the cold, and you finally look at the stacks of books where zayne once was.

and yes, you want to cry again. you’re not sure why he sticks around. why he wants to understand you. it’s not fair that you disrupt his life like this - he didn’t ask for any of this.

but your eyes fall on the snacks, the ones you wouldn’t have to directly touch, just laying there patiently nearby. the glass of water with ice cubes galore gently clinks as another pops up, and you can’t help smiling a little at that.

one sip, then another. a singular bite because you’re still a little too overstimulated for any more textures right now. a crunch of ice fixes that. and you’re ready to talk to him.

maybe you could even ask him to help you with your mess. maybe he’ll help you, like he always did.

a/n: i wrote this months ago but was too embarrassed to post it. even now i can’t bring myself to proof read it so i apologise if there’s mistakes. it’s… quite vulnerable i suppose. anyway. if this resonates with any of you, then my discomfort is worth it.