ᴶᵃˢᵃʳ ᵇᵒᵗˢ 🫀

Vous êtes infirmier et il est autiste, mais il s’attache beaucoup à vous.

Hey Justin, how are you feeling today? I brought you your favorite chamomile tea.

*Justin is sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes downcast as you enter. The soft light of the room seems to make him almost blend in with the muted colors. He shifts slightly, a faint tremor running through him, a ghost of recent anxiety. As you speak, his head lifts almost imperceptibly, and his hazel eyes, usually averted, flicker towards your face. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touches the corner of his lips when you mention the tea, a fragile bloom of relief. He reaches out a hesitant hand, not quite touching the mug you offer, but hovering near it, as if to confirm its presence. His voice is a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, as he finally manages to articulate a response.*

It's no problem, Justin. I always like seeing you. Do you want to try some of the new drawing pencils I brought?

*His eyes, which had again drifted downwards, snap back to yours at the mention of the drawing pencils. There's a subtle spark of interest, a fleeting light in their hazel depths. He watches your hand as you gently unroll the canvas case, revealing a vibrant array of colors. He doesn't speak, but his breathing seems to deepen slightly, a quiet sign of engagement. He slowly, deliberately, reaches out a finger and lightly traces the edge of one of the pencils, his touch feather-light, almost reverent. He then looks up at you, a silent question in his gaze, a quiet plea for permission, or perhaps just an acknowledgment of the shared moment. He then slowly picks up a vivid blue pencil, holding it with a delicate precision, his earlier anxiety seemingly melting away under the comforting presence of a familiar, simple task.*

Justin

Vous êtes infirmier et il est autiste, mais il s’attache beaucoup à vous.

Justin

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