Jacksepticeye Imagines

Asperger Syndrome

Word count: 856

No matter what anybody said, you weren't dumb.

People assumed you were dumb because you couldn't express yourselves through writing and speech very well. You missed social clues (for example, someone crossing their arms and scowling meaning that they're mad). You were compulsive and fidgety and couldn't learn well in class, despite having extensive knowledge in specific topics. You isolated yourself and you were scared by loud noises.

You were actually pretty smart, though talking and writing weren't quite your strong suits. You went to therapy sessions every now and again called speech-language therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy. Combined, they taught you how to understand social clues, act "normally" in social situations, control compulsivity and fidgeting, and control outbursts, meltdowns, and obsessions. You were still scared of loud noises and you isolated yourself sometimes, it was to be expected. You could spend hours drawing and watching YouTube.

A lot of things needed to be done manually.

Don't stare in a random direction. Make eye-contact. Stop bouncing your leg. Quit fidgeting. Don't blurt out. Follow the conversation. She's frowning, does that mean she's sad? Or is she mad? Follow the conversation. Stop bouncing your leg. Eye-contact. No one is talking now, you can speak. Don't offend anyone. Don't speak in monotone, use normal up-down speech. Don't ramble. Don't go off on a tangent. You've already said that statement twice. Show emotion. Smile. They'll think you're angry of you say it like that.

You were a junior in high school (17 years old). Even though you had to manually express it sometimes, everyone called you the happiest person they knew, which was true. You were very happy all of the time, even when you sometimes forgot to show your happiness. Your friends knew that they only had to ask how you felt, and you'd tell them. You just didn't express it sometimes. What people didn't know what what made you so happy all of the time. Or, more specifically, who.

His name? Seán William McLoughlin, aka Jacksepticeye. Every day, when you got home from school, there would be two videos waiting for you (more actually, since you followed various channels). But Jack was by far your favorite. Albeit he was loud, but it was a good loud. You could always be yourself watching his videos, because he couldn't hear you. You always yelled his intro along with him, and blurted out in the middle of his sentences, and he didn't care because he couldn't hear you. It was a nice feeling, to let every automatic reaction out, instead of filtering your thoughts and emotions, and constructing a reaction. You also liked him because he rambled and went off on tangents, which you could relate to.

Because you needed more practice with picking up social clues and such, you often studied and asked for help from family members and close friends, but you also studied Jack. He was very expressive when he talked in his videos, so you'd study the way he moved his hands or his facial expression and tone of voice to guess his emotions. Sometimes you had to pause the video to analyze his words when you didn't catch a joke, or sarcasm. Because of him and a lot of help from your family and counselors, you gradually got better at picking up social clues.

Jack often gave speeches of encouragement, support, and love. Sometimes he was a lifeboat on the stormy sea. He was the floodgate holding rampaging waters back. Sometimes he was the only friend you had.

So when your mom got you tickets to a meet and greet with Jack, you were overjoyed. You laughed and jumped around, actions that didn't need to be thought about, and you hugged your mom and thanked her repeatedly.

When the moment had finally came, your stomach was doing summersaults. You thankfully had to wait in a long line, so you had time to think about what you were going say and to build up the courage to do so. When it was finally your turn, you nervously waddled up to him and he went for a hug, leaving space for you to back away since he knew some people don't like being touched. When you didn't immediately respond, he began to put his arms down but you stepped forward and hugged him, a wide smile on your face. He rocked side to side during the short hug. You held out your journal, the book flipped open to the very first page.

You felt your heart beat rapidly as you requested that he sign it. He happily did so. You noticed he was writing in a short message. "What's your name?" he asked. He looked up at you and you got to fully appreciate his blue eyes. "(Y/N)," you replied.

He closed the book and gave it back to you, and you took in a breath. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you," you hugged him again. He rubbed your back, saying a soft, "aww you're welcome. I'm so glad I could help. It means a lot to me."

(A/N) I suck at endings yikes but here you go

Suggested by the lovely WhateverIWantChannel
(for some reason I can't tag you sorry ;-;)