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Taehyung squints his eyes in the bright kitchen light and curls his fingers up by his ears. Hoseok and Jungkook are sitting on the sofa watching television, both tired and understimulated and cuddled up under the dark blue sherpa blanket. The television is on too loud. The volume isn’t on a multiple of five. It’s bright, too bright. From his place at the kitchen table it’s all Taehyung can focus on. Seokjin and Namjoon potter around in the kitchen, washing plates and cutlery and chatting quietly. Namjoon leans over and presses a tender kiss to Seokjin’s lips.
“I’m gonna go check on the babies.” he says, heading for the living room. Seokjin nods and smiles after him.
“Not babies.” Jungkook murmurs, blinking owlishly as Namjoon brushes his hair out of his eyes. Namjoon and Hoseok chuckle.
“You’re a baby, Jungkookie. Nothing you can do about that.” Hoseok giggles, hand rolling in lazy figure-eights by his head. Jungkook whines and burrows into the blanket. Taehyung watches their exchange from between his fingers, hands held up to cover his face. He wants to curl into a ball and disappear but right now even moving a limb seems like too much effort, like his arms and legs are made of lead. He honestly doesn’t know how he managed to get his hands up to his face.
“You okay, Taehyungie?” Yoongi asks, stepping into the kitchen. He stretches his arms above his head and his shirt rides up his stomach, exposing his soft, pale stomach. Taehyung wants to run his hands over that warm skin and hold Yoongi close to him. He wants Yoongi to hold him in return and squeeze him so tight until he’s struggling to breathe, just to get that deep pressure he can never get anywhere else. Instead of saying anything, Taehyung just stares straight ahead. He can’t reply now. Can’t communicate or speak or even sign at this point. There’s an odd feeling under his skin, like he wants to just crawl out of it and hide. He feels like a kettle on the boil, bubbling and bubbling up to something awful. A meltdown, probably, if he doesn’t leave the room soon. But he can’t, he can’t, so he wraps his arms around himself and leans his head on his lap.
“Taehyungie’s gonna have a meltdown.” Yoongi says, deadpan and monotone. Judging by his voice, he’s not feeling great either. Seokjin turns around and drops the dish back in the basin. The clattering makes Taehyung wince. Yoongi walks past to join the other three in the living room.
“Let’s get you into your room, okay?” Seokjin murmurs, untying his apron to set it down on the counter. Taehyung squeezes his head tighter in his arms. Everything hurts, his head feels foggy and his center of gravity is all fucked up, he’s dizzy and sweating and yeah, this is definitely a meltdown coming on. Seokjin rests a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that’s supposed to be comforting, and that’s when the first scream rips itself from Taehyung’s throat. He’s out of control now, shaking all over.
There’s silence in the room for a few seconds. Hoseok pauses the TV. Jungkook stops his little humming stim. Namjoon cuddles them both close to his chest. Yoongi disappears down the hallway to his room again.
Then Taehyung screams again, ripping at the roots of his hair and banging his head against his knees. Seokjin curses. The screaming continues until Taehyung’s voice is hoarse but he can’t hear any of it, can only feel the burning in the back of his throat as he cries. He gives in to sobbing after a while, stops breathing almost, gasping out breaths in between crying. His scalp tingles from where he’s ripping at his hair.
Half an hour has passed. Taehyung finally gives up, letting himself fall limp against the kitchen table. He blinks groggily, eyesight fuzzy and unfocused as it always is after a meltdown. He glances around slowly, trying to gather his bearings. Seokjin is sitting next to him at the table. There’s no one sitting on the sofa. The lights are all off, except the lamp in the corner of the living room. The television isn’t on anymore.
“There you are, bub. You coming back to me?” Seokjin murmurs. Taehyung croaks out some variation of ‘yes’ and closes his eyes again. ‘Hug me’ he signs slowly, hands shaking. Seokjin hums and gathers Taehyung’s limp body into his arms, holding him tight against his chest.
“I’m so sorry, my love, we should have been more mindful of you this evening.” he says, to which Taehyung shakes his head. “Thank god that was a short one, though.”
Taehyung hums quietly. Most of the time his meltdowns last hours but sometimes they’re like this, short and sharp and over within an hour. Though god knows how long this one has been building up for. He remembers coming through to dinner already feeling overwhelmed, but put it down to just being tired. A mistake.
“Want me to take you through to your room?” Seokjin asks, massaging a gentle hand into Taehyung’s scalp. It feels lovely, after how much he’s pulled at it. Taehyung grunts and nods, arms limp at his sides as Seokjin picks him up.
Namjoon is already sitting on his bed in their room, Jungkook and Hoseok tucked under his arms. Jungkook is sobbing quietly into Namjoon’s shirt, probably just scared and tired. As soon as he sees Taehyung’s fine he gulps in a breath of air and starts crying again in relief. He never knows how long Taehyung’s meltdowns are going to last, or how much damage he’s going to do to himself. Jungkook already has too many memories of bruised arms and deep scratches and dark purple cheek bones.
“We might go to my room.” Seokjin says, excusing himself from the room. Taehyung chews lazily on the chube on Seokjin’s hoodie string. That’s why he keeps them there anyway, not because he actually uses them himself. Taehyung is infinitely thankful for Seokjin.
Yoongi isn’t in his and Seokjin’s room. He’s probably in the other room snoozing with Jimin, and Taehyung breathes a shaky sigh of relief.
Seokjin tucks him under the covers in his bed and heads to the wardrobe for Taehyung’s Post-meltdown box. It’s like their Aftercare box, for when they go a little harder on the sex front, but instead of holding chocolate and fuzzy hoodies it has weighted blankets and stim toys and lemon and ginger tea bags. Seokjin takes out a weighted lap blanket and a couple of fidget toys, pressing a round stress-ball into the palm of Taehyung’s hand. He drops it immediately. It just… doesn’t stim the right way. The tangle, on the other hand, twists and turns and fidgets just perfectly, its joints loose from constant use. Taehyun hums happily and sighs when the weighted blanket covers his lap.
“You okay if I leave to make you some tea? It would be good for your throat.”
Taehyung doesn’t really know how to answer that. Too many words, too much to compute. Seokjin doesn’t take his silence as consent, instead opts to sit on the edge of his bed and hold Taehyung’s hand. This is nice. Taehyung could fall asleep. In fact he probably should, considering it’s the evening already.
“Just go to sleep, bub. I’ll tell Yoongi not to come back to his bed.”
“Is- is everything okay?”
Seokjin turns around and Taehyung looks up from his lap. Jungkook is standing timidly in the doorway, hands boxed over his ears. Seokjin smiles and nods.
“Could you get Taehyungie some tea, please, Kookie?” he hands one of the teabags to Jungkook who nods, wiping away a stray tear from his cheek. Those who say that all people with autism lack empathy are idiots, Taehyung thinks, and Jungkook is living proof of that. He skips out of the room, spinning the teabag in his hand. What follows is a quiet ‘shit’, before he appears in the doorway again.
“I dropped the tea bag,” Jungkook murmurs, squinting and curling his lip up in distress. “It burst.”
Taehyung giggles despite himself.