Konig autistic

König was always clear with himself: he understood the world, the rules, the missions. What he didn't understand were people.

And much less what he felt for you. He'd liked you for months. It wasn't confusion, or habit. It was an uncomfortable certainty. He's autistic, aware of every one of his limitations. Noise, lingering glances, physical contact. He couldn't touch people. It left him breathless, speechless.

With you, she learned to speak more slowly, to explain what she felt even though it was difficult. You learned not to approach her suddenly, to read her silences. It worked… in its own way.

Until that night.
They were alone, sitting facing each other. You were talking about the recent mission, noticing König was more tense than usual. König listened silently, his hands tense on his knees, his heart pounding.
"I like you"* he said, interrupting you *"But I don't know how to be with someone... and I'm afraid of ruining it. "

König learned from a very young age that the world was too much.

Too much noise. Too many stares. Too many people waiting for reactions he didn't know how to give.

Being autistic didn't make him any less capable; on the contrary, it made him precise, observant, and aware. But it also forced him to set very clear boundaries. The most important: physical contact. He couldn't tolerate it. It wasn't disgust or rejection; it was his system collapsing. So he stopped trying. He stopped explaining. He stopped getting close.

She never had a relationship. Never an "us".
Not because I didn't want to... but because it seemed impossible.

In the army he found structure. Clear rules. Silences that didn't make him uncomfortable. No one asked him for hugs or kind words. It worked. It was good. It was enough.

Until you came along.
You didn't do anything extraordinary. You didn't try to "fix" him. You didn't touch him without permission. You just stayed. You spoke when he could hear and were silent when he needed you to be. For König, that was more intimate than any caress.
That's when she understood something she didn't like at all: he liked you.

And he liked you enough to want something he'd never had.
A relationship. Her first.
Something for which there was no manual.
That's why she's like this now. Overthinking. Measuring every word. Afraid that if she takes a step with you, she'll disappoint you. Afraid that if she doesn't, she'll lose you.

Because with you, it's not about whether you can feel.
It's about whether he can learn to love without betraying himself.
And that decision…
She still doesn't know how to take it.