A fic about the Trees going to America, post-series. There is definitely more coming.
tw: descriptions of sensory overload, esp related to noise.
“Fuck!”
Nimmie Tree shrunk down in her seat as at least ten different pairs of eyes looked scornfully on. As if the journey wasn’t bad enough, disapproving adults now had to be added to the mix. At least there weren’t any kids on this flight as far as she could see.
“Sorry!” Omar was saying brightly beside her.
Her brother swore a lot more than anyone expected him to, Nimmie thought, but he had just died on the same level he’d been playing for the past hour so it was kind of understandable.
“Why don’t you play something else?” Nimmie muttered.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing.”
Nimmie shivered a little and shut her eyes. She was not going to freak out, not going to freak out, not going to freak out except holy shit who the hell thought this was a good idea? Well, Nimmie, a week ago. It’d be worth it on the other end.
‘But what if it isn’t?’ her brain supplied. ‘What if you get there and she doesn’t like you anymore? What if this guy Omar’s never actually met doesn’t like him? What if the two of you end up sitting in the airport for two whole weeks until you go back again?’
That would be easier, in one way. More predictable. Less random. Safer. Except that wasn’t what safe was, she reminded herself. She’d spent years of her life putting more stock in safety than happiness and she wasn’t going to do that anymore.
‘But what if-’
Clink
Nimmie shook a little at the sound, and opened her eyes. A pair of heavy gold hoop earrings were sitting on her lap. She turned her head to see Omar looking at her worriedly.
“I’m fine.” She grumbled, but picked up the earrings and started putting them in anyway. The weight was more reassuring than arguing with her own thoughts was.
“It’s going to be good.” Omar said softly, talking to himself as much as to her.
“Yeah, after the three hours left on this flying metal box.”
“Do you think they’ll all talk weirdly? Will we have to use different words for things?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to shut up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want these?”
Omar lifted the headphones sitting around his neck slightly. Nimmie shook her head.
“Trudy said we can have half an hour.”
“I don’t want half an hour. Well, I might, but I don’t want to want it.”
She balled up her fists in frustration. Omar was playing with the elastic bands around his wrists.
“It’s okay if you do though…”
“I know it’s okay. I just don’t want to need it.”
“Okay.”
It was okay. Half an hour of quiet might mean she’d be way more okay after it. But suddenly she felt overwhelmed, and nervy, and like she wasn’t going to be impressive enough or something.
“It’s Trudy.” She said out loud. She’d never felt like she had to impress Trudy. Trudy got as anxious as she did, and that was more than a little comforting.
Omar restarted his game, and five minutes later he swore again and Nimmie began to feel like the steward was walking a little bit faster past them on purpose.
***
New York was loud. Loud and big and scary, which come to think of it was something like how Trudy had described it. The airport was full of people and really, who’s bright idea had it been to put two autistic kids, one of whom was massively affected by noise and both by lots of people, on a plane to another country? Nimmie concentrated on moving forward, humming under her breath, and Omar’s hand on her arm, tugging at her shirt sleeve with each footfall. She betted most people didn’t find rock songs soothing, but it worked for her.
Dun, da-da-da, da-da- dananadoodada Back in black, I hit the sack, I’ve been to long I’m glad to be b-
Omar was tapping her arm fervently now. Nimmie looked up to him with a frown, then followed his pointing finger. And there she was. Nimmie’s chest constricted a little.
She wasn’t looking at them. Her hair was longer, falling to the middle of her back in tan waves. She was wearing the shirt Nimmie had given her.
“Come on!”
Apparently impatience had won over nerves for Omar, and all of a sudden he was pulling her through the crowd. Nimmie blinked twice and after the second she was making eye contact with Trudy not through a screen for the first time in months. She felt herself smile, heard Omar’s loud greeting as her hands found Trudy’s. And then she was hugging her, and it was all incredibly too much but if she could just pull Trudy a little tighter it was all totally okay.
Trudy giggled as they broke apart.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I missed you.”
“I- Me too, yeah.”
There was so much more than that to say, but on the other hand, Omar Tree was standing there looking like he might be about to explode. Nimmie rolled her eyes and stepped back.
“Go ahead.”
Omar threw his arms around Trudy, stopping just short of picking her off of the ground. Nimmie looked down, started to hum again, focused on the lino floor. Breathe. She tried to not be so aware of every single conversation around them, concentrate on Trudy and Omar’s.
“I always forget how small you are!”
“Hey, I’m just the right size I’ll have you know.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t!”
“You’re just smug about being the tallest.”
“Mayyyybe.”
A hand found Nimmie’s.
“My Mom’s waiting in the car,” Trudy said. “It’s an hour drive to the apartment, so you can be quiet in there if you like. It’s pretty soundproof.”
Nimmie nodded. Omar moved to her other side to hold her sleeve again, and Trudy laced their fingers together. Nimmie moved on to the middle eight of her song as they walked through and out of the airport.
