I climb back into bed beside him, and to my surprise, he reaches for me, pulling me tight against his side.
“In a cuddly mood?” I tease gently, finding a comfortable spot for my head against his shoulder as he runs his hand gently up and down my spine.
“That was… something special…” His eyes are bright as he turns to look at me, meeting my gaze as calmly and confidently as I’ve ever seen. “I love you, Reed.”
My heart cracks apart, opening all the way wide to let him in and take whatever he wants. All I can do now is hope he doesn’t decide to steal it and leave me. But I’m confident the odds are in my favor. I meet his mouth for a soft kiss.
“I love you, Dylan.”
And even though it’s early, we snuggle closer to each other, both of us drifting off to sleep.
Chapter 33
REED
WhenIwakeinthe morning, the sky is just turning from black to grey, that pre-dawn light filtering in through the window of Dylan's room. Leaning on one elbow, I watch him for a moment as he sleeps, taking in the soft, uninhibited expression on his face. I care so much for this man I can physically feel it in my chest. If this is what love feels like, I can finally understand why people are so addicted to it.
When Dylan said he trusted me with everything last night, I had to close my eyes and struggle to swallow the huge lump in my throat, since I figured breaking into tears at that point wasn't going to enhance the mood. But I'm pretty sure he knew anyway, he had a knowing little smile playing at the corners of his mouth before he pulled me down into another kiss that made me feel like I was going to spontaneously combust.
I snort with laughter, remembering his saucy response to my tender concern over hurting him. After capturing my mouth in another scorching kiss, he whispered "Yes, yes, of course, I promise to stop you if you're hurting me. But you'd better get on with it, Dr. Morrow, or I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands and you'll miss all the good parts. You're gonna need to work to keep up with me.” His wicked smile just about undid me, so I set about wiping it right off his face and reducing him to a babbling mess.
His eyes flutter open, and he lets out a sleepy noise as he yawns and takes a long stretch, bringing me back to the present.
“Good morning, my love,” I say with a smile. I know it’s cheesy, but I can’t stop saying how much I love him. I get this hit of happy endorphins every time I say it and see his eyes light up.
We share a soft kiss, morning breath be damned, and then we lie together for a moment, my chin resting on his chest. In the light of day, I know we need to have the conversation we didn’t get to yesterday about Dylan’s meltdown. But we both feel so good right now, basking in our post-lovemaking glow, I’m tempted to put it off.
He smiles at me. “I know what you’re thinking. We need to have ‘the talk,’” he says, using air quotes around the words. Before I can reply, he hauls me up to his mouth, kissing me ferociously and rolling us so I’m on my back. Barely pausing, he lets me go and continues his smooth roll right off me, then hops out of the bed, leaving me lying on my back. He turns to face me with a grin. “Let’s get coffee. Then we can talk. I already called Mason and told him I’d be late.”
I reach out to grab him, trying to haul him back down into bed, but he resists, laughing.
“If Mason’s going to cover for you, doesn’t that mean we don’t need to hurry out of bed?” I ask innocently.
He leans to kiss me but pulls away before I can get a good hold on him. “I still need to make an appearance.” He grins. “I just don’t need to rush.” I roll my eyes and pout, but of course, I understand.
Down in the kitchen, we get ourselves set up with coffees and get comfortable on the couch in front of the new gas fireplace as Dylan starts to talk.
“I know you’re curious, and I can tell you about what a meltdown is like for me, but it’s not the same every time, and it’s not the same for every person either. No matter what I do to prevent it, sometimes meltdowns still happen. And the truth is they are fucking awful every time.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, his earlier playfulness gone.
“Meltdowns are pretty common in autistics. It can often be triggered by sensory overload, but that’s not always the reason. For me, noise is a big trigger. If I’m surrounded by a lot of loud noise for a long time, it can overload my system.”
“That’s why you always have earplugs with you,” I say, and he nods.
“Yeah. And on Thanksgiving, I forgot them.” He continues. “When I’m feeling close to that overwhelmed stage, my system starts acting weird. It’s hard to describe, but what ends up happening is that I lose the ability to filter all the sensory information coming into my brain. So, things that aren’t usually a problem for me, things I might not have even noticed or might be mildly annoying, become a source of discomfort. Sometimes it’s even painful.”
I must look a little confused, so he explains. “It’s like I won’t be able to ignore the way my sweater feels prickly against my skin, even though I’ve managed to ignore it all day. Or there could be a tag in my shirt that’s poking me. Maybe I’ve barely noticed it all day, but now it’s all I can think about.”
I nod, trying to imagine what that would be like—being completely unable to tune anything out, my brain trying desperately to react to every single little piece of information my body is collecting. It sounds horrible.
“So, you’re totally overwhelmed, and your nervous system gets overloaded, I understand that,” I say. “Do you know why you can’t identify what’s happening so you can get yourself away from the trigger before you lose control?”
Dylan nods. “That’s the magic question. I’ve gotten better at recognizing the signs my body’s giving me, but the signs that it’s happening don’t always feel the same, so they can be easy to miss. Of course, emotions can also get in the way of logic, so I just can’t hear the side of my brain that’s trying to warn me. That’s what happened on Thanksgiving.”
I nod, thinking about how frustrating that must be. Dylan goes on.
“Of course, sometimes I know it’s going to happen, but there’s no way to get away from the trigger. I hate that situation.”