Six Feet of Support

[Timothy De Luca]

On any other day, Timmy would not be so anxious about roaming the school. He pockets were empty of everything except his wand and specks of dust, and he did not have his sketchbook. He was out of his comfort zone and empty. As a form of aggressive treatment, his counselor confiscated his notebook and was actively tracking him on a map to make sure the boy did not go to the Student Lounge, which was normally where he was at this time. Apparently, Timothy needed to find who he was without drawing. His drawing acted as an anchor, but it also deterred him from developing into a well functioning member of society. He trudged up the stairs to the North Tower. He noted that he was pulling his fingers. The fact that he was pulling his fingers meant that he was not stable. If the boy was going to be honest with himself, he was scared. His breath was hollow and small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Once reaching the tower, Timmy collapsed against a wall. He closed his eyes and began to count, all while taking deep breaths. He was not aware of the others in the room with him. He did not care if they heard him counting. He just needed something, but he did not know what could possibly replace drawing.

 

[Niamh MacPharlain]

Niamh normally might have been sprawled out in bed or on a long couch somewhere but instead she made her way up. Higher and higher until she just stopped short when she felt another person there. Seeing as he was about as odd as she was the Slytherin looked him over and wondered if he'd taken a potion that he was reacting negatively too. Merlin knew she'd done that a fair few times and the best she'd been able to do was just wait for it to be over without looking for extra help. Thinking this was what was going on with the stranger Niamh felt sympathetic and decided to sit across from him, hoping this wouldn't add to whatever discomfort he seemed to be having. She wasn't sure what to do but sometimes being near a calmer person might help and since Niamh had drunk tea to help with her lucidity she felt mostly stress-free. It was not something to be said normally so this boy caught her on a good day. "Sometimes it helps to touch your fingers to each other," the Irish girl said softly before showing him by touching her thumb to each of her fingers as if on a rhythm. Her brother had showed her that to help cope during a time when she had been given so many potions by healers that it made her hands and fingers numb. Somehow it had helped then and had continued to do so in times of stress.

 

[Timothy De Luca]

Timothy hated counseling. It was something he had to go to all of his life because of his autism, and it had never bothered him until now. The counseling that is. Timmy could not do anything about his autism, and the boy had come to terms with that fact years ago. He could not help that his brain picked up on unnecessary information and made it difficult for him to recognize and understand social behaviors. Timmy closed his eyes when he heard a girl's voice. He first touched his index finger to his thumb. Shock. Next his middle finger. Shock. He continued the pattern with all his fingers despite the feeling it gave him. He had not felt those numbing shocks since his first year and to think he had come a long way since then. The boy did not think to address the girl who gave him the advice. His mind was preoccupied with finding some sort of solace.