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The Mind awoke with a gasp, breathing hard as he moved a hand up to wipe sweat from his eyes and face. He groaned as he scratched his face with metal hands, forgetting once more about the prosthetics.
He put his hands down, gripping his sheets. When did..
He let out a soft gasp as he felt shifting, lifting the covers to see Soul curled up next to him, and Harmonia next to him. He glanced to the other side. Heart. Of course.
The Mind huffed. His bed was more than big enough, something only he had because of the way he became incredibly agitated when his sleeping position was one way for too long or when his bed became too warm and he needed to move to a cold spot. It was big enough for all of them, but, of course, they never asked before coming in. It pissed him off. His bed was his special place.
He took in a large breath of air, but hummed, unsatisfied. It was too warm. The air wasn't cold. He felt like he couldn't breathe properly.
He climbed out of the bed, feeling his stomach clench painfully before letting out a growl. He let out more of the breath he was holding, socked feet walking across soft carpet that was littered with layers of feathers he didn't risk the back pain to pick up.
He hugged his stomach as he escaped into the hallway, taking in a large breath and letting it out through his lips.
Great, now he had to breathe manually.
In.
He took a step.
Out.
In.
Hold.
Was he supposed to hold his breath?
Right. Breathing.
Out.
Or maybe..
In.
Maybe it was.. in through the mouth, out through the nose.
Out.
In.
Or was it the opposite?
Out.
In.
No, no. He was supposed to just breath through his nose.
Right?
Out.
Ouch. His stomach hurt.
Right.
He was hungry.
Breathe in through the nose. Out.
No. Nope.
That wasn't working. He felt his chest compressing. He wasn't getting enough air.
In through the mouth, out through the mouth.
He blinked as he heard his stomach growl again, breaking him from his trance.
He hadn't moved a step. How long had he been standing there?
He shook his head, walking a few steps before humming. No, no.
He didn't like that.
His feet felt weird in the socks he was wearing.
He walked back into his room, quietly opening a dresser and grabbing a fluffy pair of blue socks and replacing the old ones with them. He walked into the hallway.
Good. Better.
He walked to the TV, turning off whatever was left on and changing it to background ambiance. Just bird calls and wind sounds.
He closed his eyes, standing in the middle of the room.
Again, he hummed. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking up at the ceiling fan. It blew cold air on his skin that made the hair on his arms stand up.
He walked into the connected kitchen, hitting the switch to the fan on the way in to shut it off.
He sighed, staring at the sink that had been cleaned out before he went to bed, now stacked with multiple dishes.
He walked to the sink, putting his hand down on the countertop but quickly pulling it back with a gasp.
Water. On the counter.
Gross. Augh.
He shook his hand, letting out a pathetic whine as the feeling of wetness didn't go away. He stimmed negatively, looking around.
He spied a dishtowel, rubbing his hand on that. It didn't make it much better, but it was better than nothing.
He stared at the sink, debating. Clean sink, or wet hands?
Clean sink.
Wet hands.
Wet hands were horrible. They were encased in a fluid that wouldn't go away, dripping down to his elbow and..
He put a hand on his chest, breathing in incredibly loudly and letting it out.
He didn't realize he was holding his breath. It hurt.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
This wasn't helping.
Out.
In.
Out.
His chest hurt.
In.
Out.
He looked around, blinking.
In.
Why was he here? Right.
He was hungry.
Out.
He walked to the fridge, opening it and looking inside.
He flinched back at the many mixed smells, closing it and sneering. There went his appetite.
His stomach growled, cramping.
The Mind let out a small groan, gritting his teeth and holding his stomach.
He walked back to the living room, staring at the TV as it played its ear-piercing noises.
He grabbed the remote and turned it off, dropping the controller onto the floor as he walked back to his room and put his hand on the door handle.
He hesitated.
Three people.
Heat.
Stuffy air.
Hair touching him.
Stray hairs in the bed.
Dead skin flakes.
The Mind was disgusted. He'd need to clean everything.
He walked to the laundry room, glancing around.
He grabbed a weighted blanket, a fluffy comfort material blanket, a long decorative pillow and a firm pillow.
He walked to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter before putting his things on there.
He put on gloves from under the sink, grabbing cleaner and a new rag.
He walked to the bathtub, spraying down the entire inside and wiping it until his elbow burned from movement.
He then sat, waiting for it to dry.
Once it was finished, he put up all the cleaning supplies and grabbed the comfort blanket, laying it in the bottom of the tub. He took the rest of his things, purring as he stepped into the bathtub and sat down. He nuzzled his face into the soft fabric, placing his firm pillow and laying his head on it. He covered himself with the weighted blanket, pulling the long pillow to his chest and wrapping his arms around it, burying his head into its breathable material and wrapping his legs around it.
He let out a purr as he fell asleep.
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The Mind awoke to a banging on the door, startling up and blinking.
"Mind! Get out of there, I have to piss!"
The Mind got up sleepily, not even thinking as he opened the door for the Heart.
The Heart didn't have his blindfold on, the clear part of his mostly dim vision seeing the blanket.
"..Are you sleeping in the tub? Weirdo."
He pushed past him, and the Mind trembled, stalking out of the bathroom.
He hated being autistic sometimes.