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When Benji's eight years old he has a teddy bear he loves more than anything in the world. He spends most of his time with his teddy bear. The bear's name is Frida because once he heard his older sister talking about Frida Kahlo and he liked the name.
"Don't you think you're too old to be carrying around, um, Frida?" his sister Marci, who's fourteen and doesn't understand him at all asks sometimes.
Benji doesn't talk too often except when he talks too much, but today's one of those days when he's not really talking at all, and the truth is that it's not a question worth answering. He is eight years old and he likes Frida and he likes carrying her around, so he's just the right age to be carrying around Frida. So he shoots his sister a puzzled smile and pats her hand and walks away, which isn't what he's supposed to do but he's not sure what he's supposed to do so he doesn't do it, which is how it is most of the time.
"Why didn't he answer me?" Marci asks his mother even though Benji did answer her, just not in words.
"You know he's different."
"There's something wrong with him, isn't there?"
"No," his mother says, and her voice is louder. "He's just different." Her voice goes high and strangly on the last word.
The next day she gives Frida to charity.
Benji's father screams at her.
Benji just screams. (For hours, hours. Until he's hoarse. He never knows how to put it into words, but Frida makes him feel safe, and he loves touching her soft fur even though some of it's gotten rough after years of washing. The idea that he'll never see her or feel her again, won't rub her fur against his face and hug her tightly to his chest, makes him shake and hum and cry loud and rock back and forth until he falls asleep.)
The next day, he doesn't leave his room even when the others hover right outside his door.
He hears Marci tell his mother, "You shouldn't have done that. He was too old, but you…mom, I don't…like, maybe…I…you shouldn't have done that."
He hears his mother start crying. She says, "I know, I know."
+
When Benji's nine, he discovers Star Wars and everything changes.
Those movies become everything to him.
His father ends up memorizing a lot of lines (Benji has all of the movies fully memorized eventually, even the prequels) because he's the only one who'll watch the movies with Benji over and over again (even if sometimes he spends the whole time on his laptop), the only one who doesn't act like there's something seriously wrong when he says he wants to watch Empire Strikes Back for the fifteenth time at family movie night.
They do watch all of the movies together as a family, but only once. After that, Benji is restricted to choosing different science fiction movies (like every single one of the Star Trek movies, because he might like Star Wars better but Trek has lots of good parts too. Also more movies). He still tries, though, every time.
He talks about Star Wars so much people get annoyed, echoes lines over and over again because sometimes there are things he wants to say that Star Wars or any of the Star Treks or Firefly or Battlestar Galactica say better than he does.
Marci tells him he has to try to talk about other things because "nobody cares". After that, he doesn't talk about the things he likes with her. It's hard for him to talk to her at all after that, actually, because he's not sure what the things that nobody cares about are and what the things that people really do care about are.
His mom tells him he has to try to talk about other things and decorate his room with something other than Star Wars stuff and watch other movies more and read books that aren't tie ins more because it'll make life easier for him. He guesses that what she really means (because that's something everybody does: they say something but they don't mean that thing really, they mean something else, something more complicated) is that nobody cares.
At least his dad cares, and his dad's not nobody, so Benji guesses his mom and sister must be wrong.
And Benji cares. He cares more than anything about the people and the aliens in those movies, about the way they stand together and the ways that they don't, about good and evil and the spaces in between that he starts seeing as he gets older, about the stories that are told through the score and the script. There's nothing more beautiful to him than the night sky, after watching those movies, because he can look up and think that maybe someday they'll find something up there, or that someday technology will advance to the point where humanity will go to some galaxy far, far away. At night, when Benji can't sleep, or when he's crying in his bed because the kids at school call him a spaz and a freak and a retard, he repeats those words to himself:
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
+
Benji's spent a lot of time singing to himself over the years. Sometimes when he's really upset but before he's really really really upset, he covers his ears and rocks back and forth and sings to himself, sometimes whole songs and sometimes just bits and pieces that have stuck in his head, popular music or old standards.
Sometimes he repeats lines from songs back at people too. That becomes more and more common as he gets older and figures out that people are less likely to think of him as childish if he repeats lines from songs instead of television, just as he discovers how great the Internet is when you really love something, because you can find other people who love it maybe as much as you do.
There are message boards for science fiction and Star Wars that Benji joins, and even people who write stories set in the universe Benji loves more than possibly his own universe. Benji's always been of the opinion that there aren't enough tie-in novels, and some of them just aren't that good anyway, and he's delighted that there are other people who've stepped in.
Benji remembers his sister saying "nobody cares" and his mother saying the same thing in more words, and he thinks gleefully, you're wrong.
+
Sometimes, when Benji has a bad day at school or just a bad day in general, one where things are really difficult except the things that are really difficult are really easy for everyone else, one where people are either so mean he wants to run away from them or so overbearingly nice he wants to run away from them he wishes he could be a completely different person. He tries his best to seem cheerful all the time, but he cries all the time too so he doesn't know if he's much good at it.
He hates himself sometimes. The way he moves (because it's inappropriate, Benji--his special ed teacher and his normal teacher both say that), the way he doesn't always understand that people are saying more than one thing in one sentence, the way his jokes never seem to get laughed at but the things he says when he's being serious get big belly-laughs, the way people say he's adorable even when he doesn't want to be adorable, he wants to be taken seriously.
He knows he has a condition, and he wishes he could get rid of it, but he can't so instead he ignores it.
And to tell the truth, no matter what he thinks on occasion, he's not so sure if he wants to be a completely different person.
He gets the feeling that maybe he's supposed to hate himself even more than he does, sometimes. The idea that he's not hating himself right makes him so nervous that he tells his dad about it, and his dad tells his mom about it, and then they send him to another doctor who talks about "anxiety" and "low self-esteem", but the doctor doesn't understand and his parents don't understand.
Benji's pretty sure nobody understands him at all, not even himself, and he's never felt so isolated.
+
He discovers magic and a cappella at the same time. He's fourteen and it's in the mall and it's the beatboxing that stops him because he loves bass beats, really loves the way he can feel them in his chest and being able to make those sounds with your voice is the coolest thing to him.
And there's the song they sing: "Do You Believe In Magic?". He doesn't, not really, and he's not even sure how much he likes the song itself, but he believes in magical things and the singing makes him feel something viscerally and he bounces up and down until people stare and his sister drags him away because "fuck, Benj, you're being embarrassing" (she says "embarrassing" the way she always does, like it's four words: "em-bar-rass-ing").
He hums along to the song for days, sings it under his breath and looks up the lyrics and memorizes the whole thing, and when he stumbles across a page on the net about becoming an illusionist he doesn't think twice about clicking the link.
His parents are enthusiastic about the magic at first, especially his mother, until she realizes that it's like Star Wars all over again: illusions have become a passion almost as strong as Star Wars, and it's all he'll talk about and all he'll do and the kids at school make fun of him even though he's actually getting really good, which his father points out to his mother during one of those conversations Benji isn't supposed to listen into ("is that supposed to make me feel better?" she moans).
Marci likes magic, though, laughs when he guesses the right card and when he makes fake flowers appear "from thin air" or handkerchiefs appear from his sleeve. She likes magic a lot more than Star Wars, to the point where he starts teaching her and she starts teaching herself, and for the first time in years he feels like he can talk to her.
She doesn't approve of his cape, though.
Nobody approves of the cape.
Not even his dad, who's convinced it'll get him beat up.
It does, and Benji comes home upset and this close to really, really upset, but he doesn't really freak out until he realizes that his cape is ruined.
His parents always get scared when he has what his therapists always called "meltdowns" and "shutdowns" (even though the first are more common with him), and so they stop saying "I told you so" when he starts rocking back and forth and pacing and humming tunelessly and slamming the palms of his hands against the sides of his head.
He can't help it and they know he can't help it, they've finally figured that out after years, but it's hell every single time.
His parents almost don't let him get a new cape, but Benji's stubborn, and he gets a new one. A lot of new ones, actually--he spends most of his money on capes and equipment.
+
More about the capes, though: he discovers how absolutely wonderful they are when he finds one in a local magic shop and immediately goes to buy it--this is the one that gets destroyed--because he figures it'll make his magic shows look a lot more official.
But then he puts it on at home and it's like--
Well, it's like magic. It makes him feel safe and happy in a way that reminds him of Frida, who he's nearly forgotten about by now.
He likes spinning around while wearing his capes, likes the way they billow behind him even if he ends up tangled in them.
He likes the way the material feels between his fingers and between his shoulder-blades and resting on his shoulders, likes the warmth and the security. When he's upset he wraps himself in his capes and twists his hands in the eventually well-worn fabric and rocks back and forth.
He wears them in public sometimes and gets a lot of stares, but he doesn't mind because at this point he's used to funny looks and getting treated like a freak. He guesses he is a freak. He also guesses he just doesn't mind as much as he used to.
+
When Benji's sixteen years old he finally looks it up, just types the word that's dictated his IEP for so many years into Google: autism.
He spends at least a month thinking about autism and googling and reading after that, even his interests in Star Wars and magic pushed to the side just for a little while.
Because what he finds is mostly just…confusing. It's lists of…sometimes it's "symptoms", sometimes it's "characteristics". (Benji likes "characteristics" better, because he doesn't feel sick. He's never felt sick.) It's lots of parents talking about how hard it is to have an autistic kid, lots of siblings saying something similar. Benji's uncomfortably reminded of his own parents and his sister, but especially his mom, and it hurts. There are pages that say autistic people have sad lives and that it's definitely a sickness, definitely needs a cure.
They say there are different levels of functioning, which Benji knows (even though eventually, after reading enough about the spectrum and functioning labels, he lets that conceit go) because he's heard his mother say, more times than he can count, "He's high-functioning, he's very high-functioning, don't worry."
High-functioning autistic people, from what Benji can understand, will always be closer to normal but they'll never fit in, or they fit in so well they're just sort of exaggerating when they don't.
Benji doesn't want to be normal, he knows this by now. He doesn't want to be normal because it's unrealistic and all wanting it does is make him feel bad.
Imagining a not-autistic version of himself makes him laugh anyway.
He was always the weird kid, the one who went to different classes sometimes, the one who went to all sorts of therapists and doctors who were sometimes nice and sometimes so syrupy sweet it choked him, the one who realized eventually that "special" was a bad word.
And he thinks he's okay, even though he has bad days, bad moments. Those come with the territory, though. They come with being human. That comfort with himself is probably the years of therapy talking, to be honest. He guesses they helped, no matter how resentful he was of those appointments in the beginning.
He reads blogs and finds message boards by and for autistic people, and it's thrilling. He's never met someone like him, at least he doesn't think so, and it's nice to get into contact with some and talk about things other people--normal people? Maybe others would call them neurotypical or allistic or whatever, but Benji's always just called them normal people, ever since he was small and he knows it's probably not right but he can't bring himself to change--don't talk about. Like stimming.
Benji had heard the word before, had already tried to make himself stop stimming in public by the time he was fourteen, but it's not until he starts probing the Internet for more facts about autism that he finds people actually celebrating it, which makes him flap his hands in excitement, something that he knows would finally, finally be considered appropriate by the people who matter.
+
He goes to Barden because there's a major in 16th Century Illusionism, but his father manages to get him to agree that maybe it's a little useless as a major, so he decides to have it as a minor instead and major in Astronomy because he's always loved space and he's always been good at science, too.
"Astronomy, huh?" Jesse says as he tosses one of Benji's bouncy balls from hand to hand. He laughs. "Totally makes sense. I don't think I'd be able to cut it in the hard sciences, though. Or the soft sciences. Just science in general is bad for me. I'm gonna stick with music."
About Jesse: he's nice. That's honestly one of the first things Benji thinks about his roommate, after the almost obligatory oh my God he hates me already.
He was really worried about having a roommate, even though he was kind of excited too, and now he knows that he was right to be excited because Jesse almost immediately becomes his friend, and he stays that way even as Benji's ability to act normal(ish?) erodes and he makes a total fool out of himself in front of the Treblemakers.
It's different, having an actual friend, different from all the acquaintances Benji's had over the years because Jesse doesn't seem to get all that freaked out when Benji stims (he doesn't really do it on purpose--some people saying that it's okay on the Internet doesn't outdo years of shame--but he does it) and he doesn't step in too often when Benji makes a fool out of himself in social situations, which is actually nice.
Benji can't explain why, because he always ends up super embarrassed, but he hates being talked over and Jesse at least doesn't do that when it matters even though he rarely ever shuts up when it doesn't. Benji doesn't mind listening to Jesse, though, and Jesse doesn't shut him down when he talks (and talks and talks) about Star Wars or wants to practice new magic tricks.
Beca Mitchell is surprisingly nice too, even though Benji will guiltily admit that at first he only knew her tangentially as "Jesse's love interest". He's pretty sure that she only knew him as "Jesse's roommate", though, so he hopes they're at least kind of even on that. They get to know each other, though, as Jesse invites her over for what he calls "movications".
They watch Star Wars over the course of a few nights, in order, and Beca hates them, but Benji stims his way through all the movies and mouths the dialogue and she only looks at him funny a few times near the beginning, so he guesses he can forgive her for hating his favorite movie ever.
His classes are okay too--sometimes people make fun of him (he doesn't tell this to Jesse or Beca, though, because they just get mad and what's the point?) for his capes and for his magic, and sometimes he misses class because he feels like he's going to melt down if he even tries to go outside or like just taking a shower is a monumental effort, let alone learning, but overall he manages. With careful usage of schedules and charts and a few pills to help with his anxiety, he manages.
"You're so organized," Jesse groans at one point when he's lost his homework (again). "Is it…" he smirks in that way Benji's managed to figure out means he's going to make a dorky joke that he thinks is really funny, "magic?"
Benji laughs because Jesse's dorky jokes are kind of funny ("you shouldn't encourage him," Beca always mutters when she's within earshot of these exchanges). "No. I just use a lot of schedules and charts and maps and stuff to keep myself on track."
Jesse sighs. "I wish I could stick to schedules. Instead, I just lose my homework." He seems genuinely frustrated as he dumps out his entire backpack and sifts through pieces of crumpled up papers.
Benji frowns. "Don't you have practice?"
Jesse's eyes widen and he looks at the clock he's mounted on the wall, the one with the hands that Benji can't read. "Oh, shit, Bumper's gonna kill me, thanks Benji, shit, shit, shit."
He stumbles to his feet and throws on his Treblemakers hoodie. Benji revels in the fact that he doesn't even feel a twinge of jealousy at that. He wanted to be a Treblemaker, sure, but maybe it's for the best that he didn't get in. Maybe they would have just run him out in no time.
"They're basically frat guys," Jesse had said early on, trying to make him feel better. "They're funny, but they're kind of jerks, and I know you don't like jerks."
Benji had wanted to ask Jesse if he was a guy who liked jerks, then, but it had sounded mean in his head and he had the idea that it might sound mean out loud too, so he'd just nodded and continued sulking.
Now Jesse stumbles out of the room, leaving the door open, and Benji barely even feels like he should be following.
+
"But what's with the capes, though?" Jesse asks one day. It bursts out of his mouth like he's been thinking it a long time.
Benji turns around, his cape swishing behind him. "They make me feel safe," he says simply, and he thinks he should sound like he's tired of this question, but he's not. He just wants someone to finally understand the answer.
He honestly can't tell if Jesse does, but he nods his head slowly and says, "Hey, I can respect that," and that's better than Benji's ever gotten before.
+
Then things start falling apart in Jesse's life, and it turns out that Jesse's life and Benji's life have gotten so intertwined that things get kind of bad in Benji's life too. He walks around anxious about how things are going to turn out between Jesse and Beca (who won't even talk to him, which feels totally unfair).
Jesse spends all his time either sulking and brooding or acting exactly the same as before except multiplied times ten as he tries to be okay. Benji understands that. He understands wanting to be okay, and he wishes he could tell this to Jesse, but he doesn't know what to say.
He wishes he didn't have to be caught up in all this drama. He's started flapping his hands anxiously whenever he thinks about it without even noticing. It's pretty unfortunate.
But then…then Jesse runs into the room one day when Benji's practicing tricks with Smiley the dove and tells him there's space for him on the Treblemakers and that he has to promise not to get all weird.
Benji's almost too elated to be hurt as he says, "I don't know what you mean by weird," before Smiley ruins the illusion, but the truth is he does know what Jesse means by weird.
Jesse means being overeager, being happy in the ways he gets happy, he means being himself, because Benji is weird. Or maybe he doesn't mean it that way at all, maybe he just means the first thing. Still, it stings.
"And take off the cape," Jesse says, off-hand, as he leaves the room, confident that Benji will follow.
Benji almost doesn't, but in the end he remembers fourteen year old him feeling the beat of a song in his chest and thinking there was nothing cooler than a cappella.
+
The other guys aren't that bad, and Benji's lost a lot of his hero worship by now. He tries to be as normal as possible, doesn't really talk except to talk about songs.
Jesse says, "I've been thinking about a situation like this…" and his eyes flicker up to meet Benji's, briefly, "for a while. I think we should do a mash-up of 'Bright Lights, Bigger City' and B.o.B's 'Magic'. And," he smiles at Benji with a confidence that kind of blows him away. "I think you should sing."
That's when Benji knows that everything between them is going to be okay.
+
They only have a couple of weeks to make up a routine, and Benji manages to help Jesse a lot. Together, they're not bad at running the group, even though it takes a lot out of Benji to be still, to be normal.
"You're acting kind of weird," Jesse says one day before they head to practice. "You don't have to be intimidated by them."
Benji stares at Jesse for a long time.
"Did I say something stupid?" Jesse asks warily, and Benji sighs.
"You're the one who said not to be weird."
"Oh," Jesse says. "Oh, shit. I didn't mean it like…I didn't mean that I wanted you to become a pod person, I just meant that I didn't want a total repeat of the first time you met the Trebles because I know how much it brought you down when they were jerks about it. I'm sorry, I should have clarified, or worded it better, or literally said anything but what I said."
"It's okay, I'm too sensitive sometimes."
"No, I'm too insensitive sometimes."
Benji laughs, and after a second so does Jesse. "So, let's both act like ourselves, okay?"
"That would be a lot easier," Benji admits, and when he does get to practice he smiles more easily, speaks faster, and even flaps his hands when he gets excited instead of spending all his time trying not to.
"What're you doing?" one of the guys asks, a look on his face that Benji knows is some kind of distaste, when Benji's flapping his hands and bouncing up and down at one point.
Jesse's about to say something, but then Unicycle pipes up, "Dude, knock it off. He's a good singer."
Benji's grin is so big it hurts.
+
The ICCA's are loud and overwhelming and Benji's just glad that this is the kind of loud and overwhelming he can deal with.
He watches the other performances nervously and when he finally gets on stage he's so nervous he can barely speak. He has no idea how he's going to sing. He flaps his hands furiously before noticing somebody trying to get his attention.
Beca.
She smiles at him and gives him a thumbs up, and it's enough. It's enough to make him feel like he can actually do this, and then the spotlight's on him.
The spotlight's on him, and Benji knows that this is exactly where he's meant to be.