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It was meant to be a fun day. Or a boring one, depends on who you ask. The junior grade had a field trip, something already a little rare for their highschool, and it was one to the closest museum.
Wemmbu himself wasn’t the most interested, but he figured he could find something. The downside was that they were put into groups (they did not get to choose who they were with), and Wemmbu didn’t get to be with Egg. Worse, he had Flame in his group. His long time rival since middle-early sophomore year.
But surprisingly they didn’t argue. Normally because their arguments led to light, playfully shoving (except that one time it became a full blown fight… They ended up suspended for a week), and they didn’t feel like getting in trouble at a museum of all places.
So yeah, peace until they got back on the bus. There they could argue all they wanted and it would be easy to hide given how loud buses were. Wemmbu actually enjoyed how he could argue with Flame on the bus, it led him to focus on one thing instead of the various loud noises everywhere else.
And then that plan to distract himself with bothering Flame fell through because of their temporary peace treaty. Which meant Wemmbu was now stuck being overwhelmed, because despite museums normally being quiet, the junior class was anything but quiet.
He could hear bickering, people being in awe at the artifacts, some genuinely looking for whatever was relevant to what they were listening to in history class, others were just chatting. It was loud, some people were actually arguing, some people were yelling at those people to shut up, and a teacher might have tried to split the students apart.
To Wemmbu, it was incredibly overstimulating. The echo in the building didn’t help. Neither did how crowded it was. The yelling reminded him a little too much of his parents arguing. And he couldn’t even stay with Egg because he had no clue where his best friend was- probably on the other side of the building with his own group.
Currently, Wemmbu himself was subtly drifting further from his own group. Flame often took up a lot of space with his body language, Lomedy and Parrot were chatting about whatever they were looking at, and Spoke and Theo were talking loudly about.. Something. All things that just made Wemmbu have to be close to what was bothering him.
“Wemmbu?” Someone called.
He harshly flinched before he could stop himself, and then his eyes focused and landed on his history teacher, Mr. Minute (or just Minute as he told students to call him). “Sor- uhm,” Wemmbu stuttered, “yeah?”
And that immediately confirmed to Minute that something was wrong. He had been watching for maybe five minutes, seeing Wemmbu drift away from his group and his body language grow subtly closer to panic. “Are you okay?” Minute asked.
“Yeah, I- I’m good. I’m fine.” Wemmbu lied quietly.
“Are you sure? You were trembling earlier,” Minute said.
“Mhm,” his student hummed a little too fast.
He flinched again as someone clapped loudly.
Even more reason for why he certainly was not okay. And Minute noticed it easily, and was just even more worried. Because Wemmbu was normally sharp edges and witty, loud jokes or laughs. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t say anything about disliking loud sounds, he never panicked and looked like he was trying not to cry, and he rarely apologized for things he knew weren’t his fault.
Until right now. Because right now he was tense, he looked like he was trying to hide whatever he was feeling, except he wasn’t doing very well because it was obvious to Minute that the kid felt like crying.
“Is it too loud?” Minute asked, since he technically can’t act without confirming.
He watched as Wemmbu froze for a split second. His hands clenched harder around his sleeves that dragged a little past his hands. And then he made a small nod, and kept his wavering gaze on the floor. That was enough for Minute to finally do something other than ask.
“Okay,” Minute said, “we’ll find a quieter spot.”
And soon enough the history teacher was looking for a museum staff member as his student followed him silently. There was another loud sound as they walked, a shoe squeaking on the marble ground, and Minute suddenly felt a hand clasp on his sleeve. He paused and looked behind him. And he couldn’t tell if he was surprised or not to see that it was Wemmbu.
Either way, he said nothing, merely pocketed that in his mind for later, and eventually found a staff member. He asked, they answered, and within two minutes Minute was stepping into a private area labeled “Calming Room” with Wemmbu quickly following. It had a very different atmosphere from the rest of the museum, Minute noted.
The lights were dimmer, there were plush chairs and a couch, a small bookshelf carefully organized. He could see a basket on a small table filled with fidgets, two pairs of noise canceling headphones right next to it. The room wasn’t small, but also wasn’t big, making it seem less overwhelming.
“Is this better?” Minute asked, guiding Wemmbu to sit on the couch.
“Mhm,” Wemmbu nodded. He looked less tense already, which was good.
Yet Minute couldn’t help but see how his student looked.. Younger, somehow. More so emotionally rather than physically. And he only responded with quiet hums or words that sounded fuzzy at the edges whenever Minute asked him something.
And honestly, Minute wasn’t sure what to do after that. He had brought his student to a quieter space, Wemmbu appeared to be doing slightly better, but he still looked tired and on the verge of tears. So, the history teacher hesitated a moment, before moving to leave the room to make a phone call.
“Mr. Minute?”
That made him freeze. Because the voice was small and trembled. And the tone was on the edge of scared. And Wemmbu never called Minute ‘Mr. Minute’ since he told his students to simply call him Minute.
So he carefully turned back to look at his student, and something in his chest twisted with how Wemmbu looked at him like he was terrified of being alone. “Yes?”
“Are you leaving?” His voice wobbled. His eyes were glassy with tears threatening to fall. His body shook and his hands fisted in his sleeves. And he looked and sounded much younger than he actually was.
“Just for three minutes,” Minute responded softly. “I’ll be back.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And only after Wemmbu looked okay with Minute leaving did he leave. And he made it short, about three minutes just like he said. He called his brother Minemanner, who had gotten a degree in psychology after leaving the military, and told him about the situation.
Inside the room, Wemmbu waited. His gaze went to the clock, the digital one on the table instead of the analog one on the wall. He could read a clock, but his mind felt weird and he didn’t have the energy. So he watched that digital clock, and shuffled and fussed until he found a comfortable position in the corner of the couch, and kept waiting.
He was worried Mr. Minute wouldn’t come back. And that was scary. It was also scary because Egg wasn’t here. And he really wanted Egg because Egg felt safe and had been there last time but now Wemmbu didn’t know where Egg was. That was even more scary.
Before Wemmbu could worry any further though the door quietly creaked open. He stayed still despite his eyes shooting over to look. And then he sighed in relief because it was just Mr. Minute.
“Are you doing better, kid?” Minute asked. His tone was really gentle. Wemmbu liked gentle. It was quiet and not loud and made everything feel better.
“Mhm,” was all Wemmbu could respond with.
“That’s good,” Minute noted.
He walked over and sat on the couch as well. Not next to Wemmbu, but not far either. Giving him the choice to move closer or not. And Minute didn’t say a word as his student shifted closer, obviously trying to be subtle and yet failing. It was quiet for a while after that, before Minute eventually broke it.
“Does this happen often?” He queried.
“Mm-mm,” Wemmbu shook his head.
“But it’s happened before?”
“One time,”
“Was anyone with you that time?”
“Mhm,”
“Who was with you?”
“Egg,” Wemmbu said softly. Minute didn’t miss the small smile.
“That’s good,” Minute said. “Do you know why it happened?”
Wemmbu quietly frowned. “It was really really loud. And we were at the uhm… Game place.”
“The arcade?” Minute guessed.
“Mhm,” Wemmbu nodded. “It was louder than normal. And I think there were people yelling.”
“So when it’s loud it normally triggers you to be small?” Minute said. His voice was still gentle.
“I think so..” Wemmbu shrugged. “I don’t like random yelling. It’s all loud and unexpected.”
“Well, right now it’s quiet. And if you ever need a break because it’s too loud, you can tell me or another teacher,” Minute said. Wemmbu looked away at that suggestion. As if it was wrong, or he didn’t trust it. “Do you feel there’s something stopping you from doing that?”
“I don’t want people to know I’m weak,” Wemmbu confessed quietly.
Minute paused. He would have never known that Wemmbu felt like this until this happened. The teacher took a breath, thinking. “Wemmbu,” he started gently, “being scared of loud sounds and regressing does not make you weak. It just means that you handle things differently. And that’s okay.”
That made it Wemmbu’s turn to pause. Instead of speaking a few moments afterward, however, he seemed to curl up more. He rubbed at his eyes with a hand that was still covered by his sleeve, and didn’t say anything. And.. Yeah, that just made something in Minute twist further.
This Wemmbu was vastly different from every day Wemmbu. Because that version of his student was confident and spoke his mind, he argued with Flame in the hallways, he joked with Egg at lunch. This Wemmbu was scared and quiet, and he was trying to hide the fact he was crying after needing to leave a loud area because it was overwhelming.
And while Minute himself wasn’t one for much physical touch, he still offered Wemmbu a hug. Because Minute was observant, and silently noted things about his students if it meant he could help them. And he had seen how Wemmbu always went to Egg for a hug if he seemed off about something.
So for a few moments Minute just held Wemmbu comfortingly. And ten minutes later his student seemed to be back to his usual. “That was embarrassing,” Wemmbu whined. He was hiding his face, flushed from embarrassment, with his hands.
“You needed help,” Minute shrugged. “There’s nothing embarrassing about that.”
“..Sure,” Wemmbu groaned. “I’m never living this down if Flame finds out.”
“No one will find out unless you tell them,” Minute chuckled lightly.
“Isn’t this the kind of thing you’d need to like- tell the student counselor, or something?”
“Yes, but I don’t need to say anything beyond the fact that you get overwhelmed by loud noises and might need modifications for that.”
“Okay..” Wemmbu said slowly, “I guess that.. Works, or something.”
“Are you good to go back to your group, or no?” Minute asked.
“Probably,” Wemmbu sighed. “ How much time do we have left?”
Minute checked the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, so everyone will gather again in about twenty to prepare to leave.”
“I can handle that,” Wemmbu hummed.
“Alright,” Minute said. “And remember- if you ever need to take a break, for whatever reason, you can ask someone. No one will judge you for it.”
“No teacher, at least,” Wemmbu snorted. He knew for a fact Flame would judge him. Maybe not in the moment, but definitely after. A few random students would definitely judge him even in the moment, but whatever.
Minute stifled a sigh. At least his student was doing okay now, going back to joking around. Without many more words, they both left the room. But just before Wemmbu left to go back to his group he paused. “Thank you for… Staying, and.. Stuff.” He said, a little sheepishly.
“It’s no problem, Wemmbu. I’m here whenever you need,” Minute smiled.
And then Wemmbu went back to his group.