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Jon is autistic. This isn’t an idea he is new to--he’s known since college--and he has never gotten around to that official, legal diagnosis. This used to be something that caused him a significant amount of guilt and feelings of being “fake”, however it has gotten better with time. Now, all he can see is the flaws in the medical system--especially after his physical state went downhill--and the fact that he knows he would have significant trouble getting diagnosed as an adult and a person of color and as a transgender person, as all three of these groups are statistically less likely to be diagnosed. Hell, even though his gender marker and name have been changed legally for a long, long time now, there wouldn’t be a way to discuss how and why he thinks he is autistic without also talking about being transgender. Many of the signs of autism overlap with his experience as being trans, and he knows he would be leaving out a significant amount of important information if he simply omitted a word from his (original) birth certificate. (In addition, after everything, Jon knows that doctors don’t always know what they are doing and anything they say should be taken with a grain of salt.)
Jon knows that he is autistic. (Not Knows, the Eye never told him things that were as subjective as mental diagnoses.) He has researched for a deeply unhealthy number of hours, and he relates on a deep down, bare bones level to many experiences and stories he’s read, and he has taken the test they actually give you at the psychiatrist, and it was confirmed.. There’s no denying it.
No matter the diagnosis state, in the previous world, Jon was usually pretty good at hiding it. Was this because being blunt was simply considered rude, and not an autistic behavior? Had Jon simply convinced everyone he was an asshole, not an autistic asshole? Probably. He should ask Martin about that one, really.
People didn’t know the actual signs of autism, as in the ones defined in the DSM-5, but they instead knew of the stereotypical ones shown on television. Sure, on some level, Jon could relate to these characters… But these programs always included a significant degree of alienation that Jon could not stand. These shows never conveyed that the autistic characters were people too, and they shouldn’t be dismissed as being only a “freak”, shouldn’t be considered only as someone who knew a lot and was very passionate about a few specific topics.
This was why Jon tended to not tell people he was autistic, and tended to prefer to keep them not knowing. Well, people he wasn’t very close with, at least. This generally ended with Jon getting at least two more tension headaches than was usual a week, however at least he didn’t have to deal with people getting that panicked, okay, let me dumb it down for you, sweetie, look in their eye when talking to him. At least he didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment, and perhaps masking wasn’t all that bad . Sure, he did show up to work with a stress-induced headache-and-stomachache combination now and again from it, but it wasn’t that big of a price to pay. He knew what his employees said about their cousin’s autistic friend. He knew the way they talked about him--as much as he can be tone deaf at times, Jon can tell when someone is being made fun of. (Usually.)
He did hate having to hide his fidget toys under the desk, and that he could only bring the quiet ones to work whenever he really needed them to focus. He hated it whenever people teased him for wearing the same cardigan several times a week (It was a good texture! And familiar!) and he didn’t have an explanation that they would like. He hated how the lights were just a little too bright in the Institute. He hated how he could hear Tim’s footsteps all the way in the hallway with those stupid boots he always wore. He hated how loudly Sasha laughed at Tim’s stupid jokes whenever he was trying to focus. He hated whenever Martin tried a new kind of teabag and the texture of the drink made his teeth feel weird.
He loved the three of them, he really did, but there were times he really couldn’t take it.
And it seemed that as soon as they went into the new world, all those years of masking so heavily caught up with Jon. All that repressed anger, frustration, and hiding.
On some level, Jon knew it was at least a little bit fucked up that he found himself being proud whenever he was able to “act normal” for an extended period of time, or at the very least, keep the worst of it to himself. He was immensely proud of himself for only having meltdowns very rarely. As in, the kind where he has to sit on the floor and rock and tug at his hair and sob with his earplugs in and eyes squeezed tight for an undetermined amount of time. He almost thought he didn’t have those anymore, that they were just a thing that happened when the work stress combined with sleep deprivation combined with the whole demons-hunting-them-down thing got to be too much. And even then, it was only Tim that knew about one of them because he happened to walk in before Jon could talk again, and Jon had to explain by texting Tim because he didn’t know sign language.
Martin knows sign.
This is a good and bad thing in Jon’s eyes. This means that if Jon gets bad again, Martin will be able to understand him if he can’t talk. This is good! However this idea would cement into Jon’s brain that even if he went non-verbal, Martin would still be able to understand him. Which would mean it wouldn’t be as bad of a thing. Which would mean that it would be a little bit more okay to break down in front of him. Which wouldn’t be great for the whole image Jon was trying to keep up.
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The library is an important piece of Jon’s life. Always has been. He always has and always will absolutely adore searching the shelves until he has a stack so big that he can’t pull out a new title that looks interesting without setting the pile down somewhere. He loves that he struggles to carry how many books he wants to read now that he has a hand occupied by his cane. He has a special interest in literature and library science, unsurprisingly, and this is made apparent once he’s feeling well enough to start going out again.
He and Martin go every week or two. There’s even a cafe across the street where they can pick up those fancy cups of tea that even Martin can’t replicate, the kind that has cafe magic poured into the paper cups with the planet-destroying plastic tops. (Both of them know it’s only an ungodly amount of simple syrup that makes it so good, but neither of them want to admit it.) Sometimes they bring their own tea in thermoses from home whenever they aren’t feeling up to spending ten whole human pounds on two cups of tea whenever they could buy several boxes of teabags for that same amount at the store and make it themselves.
Overpriced drinks aside, it's a wonderful time. The advancements in technology allow for the fancy self-checkout where you stack the books, put your card on the little square, and then you can leave. Jon doesn’t have to talk to a single person, and it’s wonderful on the days whenever he wants to get out but doesn’t have the energy for talking to strangers. The days whenever he is mainly using that energy on making sure he doesn’t fall over.
Mostly, Martin enjoys seeing him so happy. He loves seeing Jon stimming on the Tube ride home, talking about what he got while Martin was poking around in the candle magick/tea section that he found thanks to a staff member finding another staff member with colored hair and a nose ring that “knew about that stuff.” Martin loves seeing the way Jon jumps up and down even though it hurts his knees whenever he finds a title he is particularly excited about. He loves Jon so, so much.
And so it thoroughly breaks his heart whenever he discovers the library is closed on Sundays. Which is tomorrow. When they were planning on going. Planning a day around.
Jon’s reaction is not dissimilar from the stages of grief which Martin would normally find a bit amusing, if not endearing, however it’s how upset Jon is that stops any laughter.
It starts with anger. Jon scoffs, face screwed up, and spits, “Why is it closed on Sunday? They could get staff members that don’t have religious obligations, have someone cover the morning shift. They could even have a shorter time that they’re open-- They--! They could--!” He picks at a long healed worm scar on his arm. “St-students need that library! They need to finish studying on the weekend before classes start up again on Monday and what, they can’t because some people had a particularly intense bout of mass hysteria thousands of years ago, and we’re all just going along with it? Still? Fuck that--F-Fuck that!” Jon’s hands are shaking. Martin doesn’t see him this angry very often anymore. Jon exhales sharply, then adds, quietly, “I am not going to throw things. I--” He exhales again, slightly slower, squeezing his good hand into a fist, the fingers on his bad hand twitching as much as they can comfortably in their curled position. “I… Whatever. It’s fine, sorry, we can go another day, I guess.”
It is very clearly not fine. Jon does not throw things. He may come across as bitter, but he is not the type of man to disrespect the books, notebooks, mugs, candles, and pens on their coffee table for his feelings by throwing them.
“Jon, you don’t seem--”
Jon closes his eyes. “If I think about this anymore I think I’m going to genuinely have a meltdown like a fucking toddler.” It is even more rare for Jon to swear like this whenever odd demons or monsters are not involved. “I’m gonna see if Pig wants to play,” Jon stands shakily, reaches for his cane, then steps towards the little basket with all their cat toys.
“S…” Martin whispers from the couch.
Jon inhales slowly and exhales, but it’s loud and deep enough in pitch that Martin can tell he’s still absolutely fuming. “Sorry, I just… It’s fucking stupid!” He groans, a hand reaching up to tug at his hair before he stops himself, knowing it would upset Martin. “I’m going to look for her,” He turns to the hallway to check Pig’s favorite hiding places.
"Just-- Are you sure I-- Can I do anything to help?" Martin stammers.
Jon turns back to face Martin and squeezes his eyes shut tightly for one, two, three seconds before opening them again. "Mmm," He hums then signs,
DON'T KNOW + IF + CAN + STOP + M + E + L + T + D + O + W + N, which translates roughly to, I don't know if I can stop myself from having a meltdown over this. It's cute that Jon spells out the word, Martin thinks. It's realistically because that's not a common term in BSL and Jon probably simply doesn't know it, but he does this in other situations too. Spells out a term he isn't sure whether Martin knows. It's thoughtful, caring, and Martin loves the gesture dearly.
Martin signs back, I + CAN + TALK + ? = Would you rather I speak or sign to you?
Jon shrugs. WANT + P + I + G+ SEE YOU LATER = I'm going to look for the cat. Bye. Jon is also careful to finger-spell slowly to Martin instead of signing in a blur of muscle memory, knowing that it's harder for him to catch syllables instead of single letters, how beginners start. He then wanders off into the hall, making the little clicking sound with his tongue that Pig recognizes as meaning that she's going to get attention.
Jon finds Pig on their bed, getting fur all over the sheets they just changed. She rolls onto her back at the sight of him, and purrs immediately whenever Jon scoops her up with one hand into his lap. He whispers into her fur, "God, I wish I were a cat," then inhales and exhales slowly a few times before properly breaking down.
He only wants plans to never be canceled. He wants things to be predictable. That's all. He can't believe that such a simple thing is really too much to ask. Even if he'd just had longer notice for these things, like, he probably wouldn't have had a meltdown over having to do more tests at the doctor's if he'd been made aware of it a week before, not twenty minutes before.
It makes Jon so, so scared, is the thing. He doesn't want to be scared anymore, he left the previous world to get away from Fears.
He thinks if he gets a chance to change everything about his life again (God forbid.), he will be a cat if he has the choice. They probably don't have the brain power to feel emotions this complex. Cats don't struggle with this stuff, they're just little domestic creatures that like to sleep and eat snacks, and their biggest worry is whether Mommy or Daddy will be serving them dinner tonight.
Yeah, okay. In the next life, Jon hopes he is a cat.