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Sometimes things were just too loud for Charlie.
The bar often reached a high volume when the gang were all shouting at each other, whether it was about Mac’s sexuality, who was going to talk to the customers or their next stupid business idea. Dee’s voice was the worst, probably because it was higher in pitch than Mac’s, Dennis’s and Frank’s. Sometimes it would grate Charlie’s ears, making him want to cover them up and hide under the bar. He'd never do that because he didn't want to look like an idiot, but the thought was definitely there.
“It’s going to make us nuts!” Frank yelled about something or other. Charlie wasn’t really listening; the gang's voices had all merged together to create a big blob of fuzzy noise. Dennis slammed his fist down on the bar to get everyone’s attention, and it made Charlie flinch back, his entire body tensing up. It was as if Dennis had hit him and not the counter.
“Frank, how the fuck are monkeys going to make us money?” Dennis asked, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head. Mac nodded along, sucking up to Dennis as he always did. Whatever Dennis thought of something, Mac thought it too, of course.
A customer knocked their glass over in one of the booths, the sound of smashing glass bouncing around the walls until it smacked Charlie directly in the face. Charlie scrunched up his body, squishing his shoulders against his chin so he was as small as possible.
“Clean that up, will ya?” Mac nudged Charlie and his touch burned as if Mac had just poured a bucket of lava over his head. Charlie blinked, letting the feeling wash through him for a second, and then he shoved past Mac towards the basement stairs. He had not drunk anything yet, but somehow he felt drunker than ever. The room was spinning, and every sound was like nails on a chalkboard, amplified to the max. Charlie slammed the basement door behind him before dropping to the floor and hugging his knees. He rocked back and forth, shutting his eyes as tightly as possible as he mumbled incoherent sentences to himself.
“Monkeys… Dennis… loud…” He whispered to the air, his own voice softer than anything he had experienced in the last 24 hours. He rubbed his hands up and down his own arms, pretending there was someone else there to comfort him and tell him he was okay.
“Oi, Charlie! You gonna clean up the mess or what?” Mac yelled, banging his fists against the door. Charlie flinched back and moved his hands up to his ears so he wouldn’t have to listen to anyone shout or bang ever again. Mac pushed the door open and obviously said something else- his lips were moving- but it was too muffled for Charlie to understand. As soon as Mac’s eyes registered Charlie’s vulnerable position, he rushed forward with furrowed eyebrows and glossed over eyes. He mouthed Charlie’s name, which Charlie could easily lip-read, having heard it so many times. When Mac’s lips kept moving, Charlie shuffled his hands down to expose his ears to the noise again. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” He eventually made out.
Charlie sniffed, only then realising his face was drenched in tears. “Loud,” he choked out, the word ending up more of a croaky whine than coherent English.
“Are you having a meltdown?”
Charlie’s jaw tensed because it had been so long since he had had a meltdown, and he wasn’t a kid anymore. It was pathetic that he couldn’t deal with the sound of the bar anymore, it was his fucking job and he heard similar noises every day. Despite his inner self-hatred, Charlie nodded slowly.
“Okay, okay. Fuck, uh…” Mac looked around the room, desperately looking for an easy solution. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Touch,” Charlie murmured, so Mac dropped down beside him. He teetered at a few centimetres away, reluctant to edge any closer.
“We’re not kids anymore. This feels kind of gay.”
Charlie let out a sob he didn’t realise he had been holding in, hunching over so he was no longer able to look at Mac. Mac swallowed and cleared his throat, wrapping an awkward arm around Charlie’s shoulder. The touch made Charlie instantly relax, so he decided to close his eyes and pretend Mac hadn’t said anything stupid.
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to shut up?”
Charlie nodded, so Mac sighed and pulled Charlie closer. Their shoulders were touching, heat spreading through both of their arms. They sat in silence for a long period of time that neither could quantify before Charlie started to fidget with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he ended up saying, his voice so quiet that Mac was almost convinced he had imagined it.
“What for?”
“I’m not a kid anymore,” Charlie repeated what Mac had said, and it clearly hit Mac in the face like a punch. He physically recoiled, leaning back and refusing eye contact.
“I shouldn’t have said that. That was stupid. Guys can cuddle, no homo and all that shit.”
“You're right, though; I should be better. I shouldn’t have meltdowns anymore. I should be used to loud noises.”
Mac shrugged, reaching for Charlie’s hands to pry them apart and stop the nervous fidgeting. “You can’t help it. The noise in the bar can be unbearable and- and I mean autism doesn’t just go away.”
“I’m not autistic, Mac.”
“Not true, you just weren’t diagnosed.”
“Why does it matter?”
“I guess it doesn’t, but like… your meltdowns aren’t ever going to go away.”
“Way to make me feel better, asshole.” Charlie’s tone sharpened considerably, making Mac fall silent for a moment to form the most suitable words. He had never been very good at comforting Charlie as a kid, and clearly, he hadn't improved at all in adulthood.
“What I mean is, you just need to tell me if you can feel one coming. You can step outside for fresh air if you need to. You don’t have to force yourself through all the noise or whatever.”
“Dennis would laugh at me.”
“He doesn’t need to know. Just don’t hold it in until this happens again.”
“Fine,” Charlie looked down at Mac and his conjoined hands and finally embraced how warm Mac’s felt. “Thanks, Mac.”
“No problem, bro. You’re my best friend, after all.”
Charlie forced a smile, squeezing Mac’s hand as a gesture of gratitude.