The autistic boy in my class was being bullied. I saw his inner thoughts floating above his head: [These people are so loud. I hate it.] I went over to help him, only to realize he had been secretly watching me the whole time. The thought bubble above his head changed: [Doll. Pretty. Want to kiss.] The next second, he leaned in and kissed me. Chapter 1 Freshman year at State, a boy in my class caught my attention. His name was Charlie Star. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, clean-cut, and beautiful. His grades were freakishly good. But he always kept his head down, sketching in his notebook, never speaking to anyone. Before long, his reputation as the "aloof genius" spread across campus. Only I knew the truth. It wasn't arrogance. I could see his thoughts. They appeared as text bubbles floating right above his head. His inner world was rich and colorful. He was the cutest boy I’d ever seen. He was... an angel from the stars. Yes, he was on the autism spectrum. Eventually, the secret couldn't be kept. During a break, a group of frat guys surrounded Charlie, laughing nastily. One of them held a Mountain Dew bottle filled with a suspicious yellow liquid, taunting him. "Hey, bought you a soda. Drink up." "If you don't drink it, you're disrespecting the brotherhood." They pressured him, their eyes full of malice. Charlie buried his head lower, his fingers gripping his pencil, bending and unbending unconsciously. Brad, the leader with the bleached hair, roughly snatched the sketchbook from Charlie’s desk. He held it up high and whistled. "Damn, bro. You spend all class thinking about girls?" I glanced over. It wasn't a girl. It was a drawing of a porcelain doll. The guys chimed in, sneering. "You like the doll type? Got a blow-up one at home? Lemme borrow it for a few days." "Even retards know how to get off?" "Were you touching yourself under the desk? Stand up, let's see if your pants are wet." The vile comments came in waves. Charlie shrank back against the wall, twisting the pencil in his hand, silent. Seeing this, Brad laughed. "Hey! He's not just stupid, he's a mute too!" Charlie still didn't react. "Tsk." Brad tossed the bottle to his lackey, lit a cigarette, and said impatiently: "Go on, feed him. That's daddy’s special brew. Make sure he drinks every drop." I frowned, hearing the whispers from nearby students. "That's Brad, right? His family has money, so he thinks he owns the place." "Yeah, I saw him in the bathroom filling that bottle. It's pee." "Ugh, that's disgusting." Brad squinted, blowing smoke rings, basking in the attention. He sat on the edge of the desk, one foot planted on the surface, smiling wickedly at the room. "Ladies, did you know your icy campus heartthrob is autistic?" He flicked his ash onto the clean floor and sneered. "Autistic basically just means retard." The room erupted in whispers. Charlie usually kept to himself, so no one noticed. But now, seeing him cowering and mute, he clearly didn't look neurotypical. The looks directed at Charlie changed. "It might be true. Avoiding eye contact, not responding... those are symptoms." "There was an autistic kid in my neighborhood who pushed his mom down the stairs. It was terrifying." "I saw one on the subway once, screaming and hitting himself. Scared me to death." "Holy crap. I don't want to be in the same class as him." "If he's sick, he should be in an institution. Why is the school hiding this? Are they trying to get us killed?" The noise grew louder. Brad chin-lifted, gesturing for silence with his palm down. "Relax. I'm teaching him a lesson for you." "Don't fall in love with me for saving the day, ladies." Brad tossed his cigarette butt on the floor and kicked his lackey. "Feed him! What are you waiting for?" The lackey flinched. "Brad, if I get one more strike, I'm expelled. Can't Mike do it?" Mike kicked him back. "Didn't you hear Brad? We're doing a public service. Don't be a wuss." I looked down at the glowing cherry of the cigarette butt near my foot and laughed. Public service? Removing a pest? I stepped forward, picked up the burning cigarette, and walked toward Brad. Chapter 2 The bottle was open. The sharp smell of ammonia filled the classroom. The opening of the bottle inched closer to Charlie. The thoughts above his head flashed rapidly: [I hate this!] [So loud!] [Must hold it in. Can't hit people.] [Can't scream.] [Can't...] I stood in front of Brad and spoke calmly. "Campus security is on the way." He paused, then raged. "Did you snitch?" I didn't answer. I snatched the bottle of urine and, without hesitation, dumped it onto Brad’s lap. The liquid soaked his jeans, dripping down his legs to the floor. It looked like he’d wet himself. Brad stood there, stunned, before the blood rushed to his face. He looked like an angry pig. "You b*tch!" He raised his leg to kick me in the chest. I dodged the kick and the flying droplets easily. I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed his face onto the desk. I held the burning cigarette less than an inch from his eyeball. Brad actually peed himself this time. Out of fear. The sound of dripping liquid made the girls nearby cover their eyes and mouths. Brad was trembling, begging me to let go, terrified for his eye. His lackeys surrounded me, threatening me to release him. I ignored them and shoved the empty soda bottle into Brad’s hand. "Every drop. Understand?" "Yeah, yeah... I get it..." I loosened my grip. Brad tried to fight back, but I slammed him down again. I twisted his arm until he screamed. "Ow! Easy... I'll drink it, I'll drink it!" He squeezed his eyes shut, about to drink. Just then, the Dean of Students burst in. "What is going on here?!" I let go, looking innocent. "Professor, I was just treating him to a soda." Brad’s eyes were bloodshot. He gritted his teeth. "Soda my ass, that was—" "That was what?" I glanced at him coldly. Brad looked at the crowd, then at Charlie cowering in the corner. He ground his teeth so hard I thought they'd crack. He had to swallow it. "Nothing, sir. We were just... playing a game." The Dean’s face softened slightly. He gave a vague lecture and let it go. Brad wasn't afraid of the Dean, but he didn't want his dad to find out. He glared at me. "Sierra Quinn. We'll play again sometime." He emphasized the word "play." I didn't even look at him. The bell rang. The next class was an elective in the building next door. Charlie and I didn't have that class, so we could leave. I looked at Charlie. "You coming?" He stared at me blankly, stealing glances. Weirdly, I read a sense of shyness in his eyes. I pointed at his sketchbook. "You like dolls?" He didn't answer, but his eyes lit up. A sentence floated above his head: [Doll. Like. Want to kiss.] Suddenly, a warm sensation brushed my cheek. I touched the lingering warmth and looked at him. The corner of his mouth was tiliting up. "Why did you kiss me? Because I look like a doll?" He nodded, then shook his head, looking conflicted. He tentatively reached out and touched my wrist bone, his smile shy and sweet. I pulled my hand back. "You know, kissing someone without consent is assault. I could call the cops." Charlie gripped his pencil tight, looking terrified. "Don't arrest me." "So what do we do? You took advantage of me." Charlie thought for a long time, then looked at my lips. "You kiss me. Then it's fair." "You mean... I kiss you, and we're even?" He nodded, eyes pure. "You wish." I rolled my eyes, went back to my seat, packed my bag, and left. He followed me like a little puppy. I turned around to warn him off. His phone rang. It was his mom. He listened for a moment. "Okay, Mom." I raised an eyebrow. "Your mom calling you home?" "Mmhmm." "Then go." "...Oh." He looked aggrieved, glancing at me like he wanted to say something. Multiple sentences floated above his head: [Why is Doll being mean... Why won't she kiss me? Does she not like me...] I stayed silent for a moment, but couldn't help myself. "My name is Sierra. Not Doll. Got it?" "Si... err... a." Charlie wrote my name in his sketchbook, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. "Got it." "Okay, go home." I knew he lived off-campus. The sky was turning black; a storm was coming. If something happened to him, I'd feel responsible. "...Oh." He said "Oh" but didn't move. His eyes were locked on my lips, waiting. "I'm not kissing you. Leave or don't, I don't care." I walked around him and strode away. Behind me, his lonely figure grew smaller. Charlie looked like he was about to cry. He couldn't understand why I wouldn't kiss him. The books said reciprocity is a virtue. Doll wasn't polite at all. But he still liked her so much. Chapter 3 I drove off campus and found a cafe to work on my term paper. By the time I finished, it had been raining for over half an hour. Outside, the sky was as dark as midnight. Lightning flashed, and for some reason, Charlie’s clean, beautiful face popped into my mind. My phone buzzed. I unlocked it. My roommate, Snow, had sent me a link. [Sierra, look at this.] The post title was: Is this the autistic genius of State U? I clicked it. It was a photo of Charlie. He was hugging his sketchbook tightly, standing on the curb in the pouring rain. In front of him were orange construction cones and a sign: "Road Work Ahead. Please Detour." The comments were a mix of cruelty and thirst. "Is that the Rain Man kid?" "I'm there right now. He's like a lost dog. Can't even walk around a cone. Been standing there for 30 mins." "I offered him an umbrella and he ignored me. Let him soak." "Holy crap, he's hot though! Even wet he looks like a model." "I can fix him." "Go bring him an umbrella then!" "Your priority should be deleting Wattpad, girl." ... I looked at the torrential rain outside. I sighed, grabbed my bag and keys, and ran out. One symptom of autism is rigid behavior. Repeating actions, obsession with specific objects, needing fixed routes. Because of the construction, his route home was broken. Charlie didn't know how to get home. I drove there and saw him, soaked to the bone, being pointed at by strangers. He stood there, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his expression blank. But I knew he was terrified. He just couldn't express it or ask for help. He could only spin the pencil to channel his anxiety. Lightning split the sky again. "Is he stupid? I asked if he needed help and he ignored me." "Is this performance art? I don't get it." "Poor guy." "He's so beautiful. Like a statue." "His eyes are so clean. Like a human with no additives." I walked up to him through the gossip and looked up. "Did you bring an umbrella?" Charlie saw me, and his eyes lit up. "Doll." I glared at him. He corrected himself timidly. "Sierra." "Did you bring an umbrella?" I repeated. Charlie looked at my open umbrella with a pout. "Yes." Was he upset I wasn't sharing mine? Give a man a fish, teach a man to fish. "Take it out. Open it. Hold it up like me." He listened and did exactly as I said. "Why aren't you going home?" Charlie pointed at the cones, his voice wobbling. "Can't pass, Sierra." "Don't cry. I'll take you." I held out my hand. Charlie hesitated, then gently pinched my sleeve with two fingers, smiling shyly. In the car, I gave him a blanket. "Can you put on your seatbelt?" Charlie shook his head slowly. I leaned over to grab the belt. "Where do you live?" He gripped his pencil tight, his ears turning bright red, holding his breath. I looked at him weirdly. "What's wrong?" "Too... too close," he stammered. I froze, quickly clicked the belt, and pulled back. "Breathe. You're gonna pass out." He took small gasps of air and recited an address. It wasn't far. Just a couple of turns. Looking at his soaked clothes, I asked, "Is anyone home?" "Mom said she's not coming home tonight." I nodded. "What about your dad?" "No dad." "Oh." Single-parent household. I took him up the elevator. Watching him type his passcode with zero cover, I scolded him. "Don't type your code in front of strangers. It's dangerous." Charlie blurted out: "Sierra isn't a stranger. She's the person I like." I followed him inside, looking around. "Do you say 'I like you' to everyone you see?" Charlie looked at me with pure eyes, then looked away, shy. "No. Only like Sierra." My heart twitched. "Your mom would be sad to hear that. She worked hard to raise you." Charlie seemed confused. "Like Mom too." "You just said you only like me. Liar." Charlie didn't know how to explain that it was a different kind of like. Unable to form the sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. "Don't cry. Hold it in or I'm leaving." Hearing my threat, he stopped immediately, spinning his pencil furiously to calm down. I softened my tone. "Go get clothes and shower. You'll get sick." "Can you shower by yourself?" He nodded and went to get clothes. But he hovered at the bathroom door. I glanced at his thought bubble. [Scared she'll leave.] "I'm not leaving. Go." He finally went in. I scrolled through TikTok, bored. Eventually, the sound of water distracted me. "Sierra, I'm done." Charlie came out towel-drying his hair. A drop of water rolled down his neck into his collarbone. Without thinking, I asked, "Do you have abs?" He looked at me blankly, looked down at his stomach, and smiled shyly. "Yes. Want to see?" He reached for the hem of his shirt. His eyes were so innocent it felt like a crime to look. I closed my eyes. "Don't flirt. I'm not looking." "Oh." He sounded disappointed. I pointed to a photo on the shelf. "You really like that doll?" In the photo, a teenage Charlie was holding a porcelain doll. The doll had a rose pinned to its chest. Charlie smiled. "Like." Suddenly, his phone rang. FaceTime from Mom. He answered. His mom saw me in the background and gasped. "Charlie? Is that a friend?" Charlie hesitated. Silence. The silence was suspicious. I jumped in. "Hi Ms. Star, I'm Sierra. I'm his classmate." His mom looked thrilled. "This is the first time Charlie has brought someone home. He must really like you." I explained the road construction situation briefly. "I saw him and gave him a ride." She thanked me profusely, though she looked pale and sickly. "Charlie, it's Mom's fault. I should have picked you up." She talked a lot. Charlie mostly stayed silent. She said the caretaker, Mrs. Lee, was almost there. Charlie kept nodding, but his eyes were glued to me, smiling like a goof. When his mom said it was late and I should go back to campus, he gripped his pencil until his knuckles turned white. His mom read him instantly. "You don't want Sierra to leave?" Charlie glanced at me, turned his back, and nodded shyly. She explained gently that I couldn't stay. The doorbell rang. Mrs. Lee arrived. Charlie’s mom asked to speak to me. I took the phone. "Child, have we met before?" My fingers tightened. She recognized me. But I didn't want to talk about it. I smiled flawlessly. "I don't think so. I just have one of those faces." Chapter 4 Before leaving, I couldn't handle his puppy-dog eyes, so I added him on WeChat. By the time I got to the parking garage, I had ten messages. By the time I showered at the dorm, I had 99+. I replied to a few, ordering him to sleep. The next day, I went to class. Every empty seat had a backpack or book on it. "Saved," they said. Anyone could sit there. Except Charlie. They were freezing him out. Charlie stood at the back, head down, grinding the pencil into his palm. A wave of annoyance hit me. I walked over to him. Someone whispered: "Does Sierra like the retard? Why is she protecting him?" "Maybe they're related? They look kinda similar." Similar? I looked at Charlie's face. We did look good together. "Sierra, I miss you," Charlie blurted out. I sighed and took his hand. "Open." He curled his fingers, then slowly opened them under my stare. His palm was covered in grey graphite and red scratches. I took the pencil stub and put it in my pocket. Without his anxiety anchor, Charlie panicked. He looked at my pocket. "Pencil, Sierra." "Shh." I held his hand, picked a random desk, swept the "saved" book onto the floor, and sat him down. The students remembered what I did to Brad. No one said a word. They just grabbed their stuff and moved away. The seats around us emptied instantly. Charlie pulled his hand away. He buried his face in his arms on the desk. He was mad. Mad I took his pencil. He was trying to self-regulate to stop himself from getting angry at me. I pushed a wet wipe and the pencil back to him. "Don't be mad. Clean your hands. Don't hold it like that, you'll get hurt." Charlie's mood flipped instantly. He smiled, cleaning his hands carefully. The professor arrived and gave a stern lecture about bullying, likely tipped off by Charlie's mom. She explained Charlie was harmless. But prejudice is a mountain. No one sat near him. Except me. Another day after school. He pestered me to go to the convenience store to buy a new sketchbook. People stared. Charlie ignored them, eyes only on me. At the register, the cashier, smoking a cigarette, ignored Charlie and handed the card reader to me. I glared at him. The guy shoved the machine at Charlie, muttering, "The dummy knows how to use a card?" I was furious. I dumped the items on the counter and dragged Charlie out. In the car, I scolded him. "You're smiling? People treat you like dirt!" "I'm sorry, don't be mad, Sierra~" He tugged my sleeve, smiling purely. My anger vanished. I drove to a different store. Then took him home. Charlie lingered, his eyes brushing my cheek. I looked at his thought bubble. He wanted to kiss me. "Do you want to kiss me?" I asked. He nodded, eyes focused on my cheek. "Look me in the eye and answer." "Want kiss, Sierra." He still couldn't make eye contact. "Look at my eyes." He spun his pencil, eyes darting away. He couldn't do it. "Five seconds. Eye contact for five seconds, and you get a kiss." He went silent. Finally, he whispered, "Sierra..." I turned, meeting a pair of clean, innocent eyes. One, two... My heart started pounding like crazy. Fifth second. A soft kiss grazed my cheek. Like a breeze. I touched my hot face. "Okay, go home." Charlie smiled, satisfied. To him, it was just affection. He didn't know he had just messed up a girl's heart.
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