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Most days weren’t necessarily good, but they weren’t really bad either. Things might be a little too bright or a little too loud or interactions a little too much, but he could handle it. He might get a little irritable by the end of the day or not have the energy to handle anything beyond a very quiet night in, but he was okay. Not a great day by other people’s standards, which he had long ago learned were very different from his, but far from a bad one. Most days were, all things considered, solidly middle of the road.
Today was a decidedly bad day.
He’d been alright in the morning. Even got some work done over a couple cups of coffee. It was nice. Promising. Things had started to go downhill around midmorning though. There’d been a noise outside in the street, some sort of high pitched whining, that had grabbed his attention and refused to let go even as he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. Focusing had been harder after that, even once the noise had gone away. He’d stared at the information on his computer screen, questions and write ups forming in his mind but refusing to allow themselves to be written down coherently. He’d tried, staring at the screen with growing frustration as he switched between topics, trying to get something, anything, done for at least one of them, but nothing worked.
He’d tried taking a break but that just made it worse. The questions and write ups and everything he couldn’t get down coherently were still there in his head, tripping and falling over each other, impossible to ignore and equally impossible to get out. He could feel the tenseness creeping in, the restlessness, the feeling of too much and make it stop settling in his chest like an animal trying to claw its way to freedom and he’d known it was going to be a bad day.
The darkness and weight of the comforter wrapped around him helped somewhat as he lay curled in the middle of the bed but not quite enough. That tense restlessness was still there, coming in bursts and waves that made him shut his eyes and try to wrap the blanket around him tighter, each one making him feel less like a person and more like a loose assemblage of ill-fitting pieces that was threatening to come apart. Ideas and thoughts and feelings that were barely being held together in the shape of a person, every light and sound and noise eroding at the slight pressure that was barely managing to keep him from breaking apart.
He’d been like that for a while, eyes shut, curled tightly under the blanket, when he heard the door open quietly. “Arthur? Are you alright?” Eames was trying to speak softly, but the sound still made Arthur curl up tighter with a muffled sound that he might’ve meant to be words but hadn’t really come out as much of anything at all. He felt the bed dip slightly as Eames sat on the edge. “Are you okay being touched?” Eames was whispering now, and that was a little easier to handle. He managed a small nod, not sure if it was even visible with the comforter wrapped around him like it was, but a moment later he felt a hand on his arm. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”
Arthur nodded slightly again. He felt Eames lie down and a moment later he was pulling Arthur into a gentle hug, pressure increasing slightly until he was holding Arthur tightly. Another burst of too much tried to claw its way out of him, but the feeling of Eames’ chest pressing against his back, his arms encircling him, helped hold the pieces in place.
He wasn’t sure how long it took before his thoughts solidified back into something he could express again, but they did eventually, loose fitting pieces slowly sliding back into shape. Not perfectly, but enough that the restlessness didn’t threaten to break him apart every time it washed over him. He relaxed slightly against Eames, shaky but less overwhelmed. He wasn’t great, but the worst seemed to be over.
“Bad day?” Eames’ voice was barely audible, but Arthur honestly wasn’t sure he could handle anything much louder; not feeling like he was unraveling was one thing, but being able to handle noise was something very, very different. He nodded somewhat shakily, not even trying to speak yet. His thoughts felt more solid, but definitely not solid enough for that. “Is this still helping?” Arthur nodded again. “Okay.”
Today was a bad day. One of the worst he’d had in a while. But, Eames’ arms around him, pressure helping ground him and hold him in place, he’d get through it. He’d be okay.