Chapter Text
Having a pair of magical glasses appear at your front door that could let you talk to humanoid personifications of the stuff in your house was, admittedly, something that’d be a lot for anybody to process, especially with the added potential to form friendships and romances with them. And sure, you had nothing and no one to really compare your situation with, being the sole owner of the only Dateviators in existence and all, but perhaps it was still fair to say that you were, overall, handling things quite well. And anyway, getting to know the many “dateables” within your home certainly injected a nice bit of variety into your day-to-day life.
It was the “them getting to know you better” part that was the main sticking point. You were – well, are – autistic and ADHD (or AuDHD, for short), and you hadn’t told any of the dateables about it (you sometimes wondered if Phoenicia knew, if she had access to your social media activity and/or browser history, but she never gave any sort of indication).
It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your diagnosis, per se, but you didn’t have much practice in telling people about it (in person, anyway), and there were just so many dateables in the household, with a myriad of different personalities and demeanours. You simply couldn’t predict how every single one of them would react, and you were worried that somebody might take it the wrong way, or say something hurtful, or worse.
You tried not to think about what the “or worse” scenario might entail, and instead just told yourself that you were better off keeping your AuDHD a secret – a lot less hassle, that way.
But even though you’d never used the words “autistic and ADHD” around any of the dateables, you still couldn’t avoid the matter entirely. Take a recent interaction with Johnny Splash, for example…
.
“Darlin’, do you mind if I ask you something?” asked Johnny, as you covered your body in bubbles, loofah in hand.
“Hm? Yeah- I mean, no, of course I don’t mind! Ask away!” you replied.
There was a moment of silence (save for the noise of the showerhead), as if Johnny was trying to figure out the right way to phrase his question, before he spoke. “I don’t wanna come across as soundin’ harsh on you, by any means,” he began. “But I was just wantin’ to know why I so rarely seem to catch your eye?”
You tensed up, for just a moment, as you briefly flicked your eyes in the direction of Johnny’s face, just enough to see nothing but an expression of pure, innocent concern.
“Whatever do you mean, Johnny?” you asked, playing dumb as you resumed your lathering. “You caught my eye from the very first day I met you!”
Johnny chuckled. “And I thank my lucky stars every day that I get to be an object of your affection, believe me,” he replied, “but that’s not what I meant.” He reached over to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you straightened up. “You got the prettiest pair of eyes I ever did see, gorgeous, but you don’t give me many chances to appreciate them the way I want to. And listen, you know I take pride in being a good gentleshower, and I would never dream of coaxing you into doing anything you don’t want to. But if there’s a specific reason why you don’t often meet my eyes, if it’s something that I’ve said or done…”
Dear, sweet Johnny…
Johnny certainly wasn’t the only dateable that you had established a romantic relationship with, but he had been your first of the household, which made him all the more special. You loved singing in the shower just as much as he did, and although he was usually off-key, and strained too hard to reach high notes far out of his vocal range, never in a million years would you ever dare to dissuade him from doing what he loved. When he and you had officially become “an item”, (pun not intended), you had purchased anti-fogging spray for the Dateviators, so you could spend your daily shower time with him, and he truly was a “gentleshower” through and through: he always adhered to your boundaries, and never once questioned you or tried to nudge you into doing something more.
But regarding the matter at hand: Johnny spoke as if he was from the 1950s, so would he even know what autism and ADHD were? How would you even go about explaining it to him right now? He might have a lot of questions, and you didn’t currently have the energy to try and answer them, but you didn’t want to lie to him, either.
You took a step towards Johnny, dropping the loofah onto the tiles and placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you haven’t done anything wrong at all, I promise,” you said, intently focusing your gaze towards his face. “I look at you all the time, really! I mean, it’s hard not to, when you go ‘round looking like that! But, well, you got some pretty gorgeous eyes yourself, y’know, and when you turn them my way, holdin’ all that love you got in your heart, well, it can be a bit overwhelming, I suppose.”
Johnny gave you a playful grin. “You saying my love’s got you all burnin’ up inside?” he teased, as the water from the showerhead became a few degrees warmer.
You smiled back at him. “Something like that, yeah. But I promise that I’ll try to-” Your brain started yelling at you, reminding you that normal people don’t need to promise to make eye contact more often, but Johnny cut you off anyway, bringing a pair of fingers to your lips.
“Hang on a minute there, darlin’,” he said, gently. “When I say that I don’t want you feeling pressured into doing anything you ain’t comfortable with, I ain’t just talkin’ ‘bout the ‘big’ things; I’m talking about the small things, too, and everything in between. So long as I know I’m still doing right by you, and you’re still havin’ a good time, then I can rest happily each and every night.”
You wrapped your arms around him. “You’re too sweet, Johnny,” you said, bringing your face closer to his.
“No sweeter than you, sugar-pie,” he replied, before his lips met yours in a loving kiss.
.
Johnny wasn’t the only dateable to call attention to your lack of eye contact. A few of them had taken it as a display of shyness or low self-confidence, giving you a soft “hey, look at me”, maybe even gently taking your chin in their hand and angling your face towards theirs. Honestly it was kind of romantic, but it wasn’t always like that. A few of the more stuck-up, snooty dateables had had moments of snapping at you to “look at me when I’m talking to you”, before continuing to talk about themselves or rant about whatever issue was currently bothering them.
Eye contact was easier when you were talking to people you were close with, but when it came to those that you were only just meeting or still getting to know, it was a bit more of a tricky thing. You had to not have the ‘wrong’ expression on your face, for fear of being taken the wrong way, you had to make sure you weren’t making too much eye contact, or else you might make things ‘weird’, and you had to remind yourself of these things while also still fully processing everything they were saying, and then hope that you still remembered at least most of it later on.
But still, it was fortunate that most of the dateables didn’t adhere to the typical social rules and traditions usually involved in relationship-forming, and you were often appreciative of when they were upfront about what they liked and what they wanted from you. Koa, for example: He was a big believer in the concept of “alone together” – enjoying a peaceful moment with somebody else, without trying to force an activity or conversation just for the hell of it, and you were absolutely 100% on board with it. You loved getting to cuddle up with Koa from time to time, relaxing in comfortable silence (and Koa was very comfortable). You expressed deep gratitude for every ‘gift’ he gave you, understanding that it was about the meaning and intention behind it that really mattered, rather than the gift itself, and when he gave you a stale candy heart reading “I love you”, you happily confirmed that the feelings were indeed mutual.
You were first introduced to Koa through a restaurant-reviewing expedition with Mitchell Linn, and it was arguably the most positive outcome you gained from your time with the household’s food critic.
Perhaps it was foolish of you, to think that you could have a happy, romantic relationship with the personification of food itself. You, with your sensory issues and list of culinary aversions. But still, you had tried your best, eating what you could manage at every instant restaurant, showering each of your hosts with praise, and always practicing perfect table manners. But Mitchell would sometimes quiz you about certain foods and beverages, and you didn’t always have the right answer, and how were you supposed to guess what wine he was drinking when you had never tried alcohol in your life? He even seemed to take offense at you picking the chocolate flavour at Freddy’s gelato place. (So what if “one does not simply chill with chocolate”? It was the only flavour you were interested in, and Freddy was the one who called it “chocolate chill”, not you!)
You avoided wearing the Dateviators during mealtimes after that, lest you caught Mitchell Linn looking at you disdainfully again.
.
Shoving the unpleasant memory out of your mind, you reminded yourself that none of the dateables had expressed even a single bit of suspicion regarding what you weren’t telling them, and they were all surely unlikely to figure it out anytime soon. But you couldn’t help but admit that that was becoming less comforting than you wanted it to be…