Chris LaSalle sat at his desk, the familiar hum of the office grounding him in its predictable rhythm. The sunlight through the windows cast a pattern he could trace with his eyes if he needed to focus. His laptop was open, case notes spread out in a careful order that made sense to him. Around him, the sounds of typing, muted conversations, and the occasional shuffle of papers filled the air like background music he'd grown used to.
Chris was aware of the subtle details around him: Brody furrowing her brow, Sebastian muttering over a stack of papers, Loretta and King's banter forming a steady rhythm in the background. It wasn't just noise; it was texture, a part of the environment that made him feel connected, even when he wasn't directly involved.
The teasing in Loretta's voice as she mentioned his "famous hunches" made Chris glance up, his lips twitching into a smile almost automatically. Humor was a script he knew well, a comfortable way to engage without overthinking. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Loretta," he replied, his tone light, though the effort of engaging cost him a sliver of his focus.
Then his phone rang. His pulse picked up before he even looked at the screen. The ringtone was familiar—predictable—but the name flashing on the display wasn't. Mom. Chris's stomach tightened. He glanced at King, whose presence nearby always made things a little easier, then answered the call with a measured, "Hey, Mom."
Her voice came through sharp, insistent, and demanding, launching straight into the subject without preamble. "Chris, you need to stop being so stubborn. I've set up a dinner for you with a wonderful young man. He's perfect for you!"
Chris's fingers tensed against the edge of his desk. He inhaled slowly, the way he'd trained himself to when he felt the familiar rise of overwhelm. "Mom, we've talked about this," he said, keeping his tone even. "I'm not interested in dating right now."
His mother's frustration practically buzzed through the phone. "Why not? This boy is stable. He's kind. He wants to take care of you. You need someone, Chris—someone who understands your condition."
Condition. The word hit like a sharp sting, and Chris instinctively glanced at King. His boyfriend's posture shifted, protective and steady, though he didn't say anything.
"Mom," Chris began, carefully choosing his words. "My autism isn't something I need to be taken care of for. I'm capable of managing my own life. And I'm not looking for someone to 'fix' me."
"You're not listening!" she interrupted, her tone rising. "You can't keep hiding behind your job, Chris. You need to think about your future!"
Chris's grip on his phone tightened. The conversation was like a labyrinth, every turn leading to another wall. "I am thinking about my future," he said, his voice firm. "And it doesn't include being pushed into a relationship I don't want."
The room around him felt charged, his teammates subtly tuning in without making it obvious. The weight of their unspoken support was both comforting and overwhelming.
"You don't understand what's best for you," his mom pressed, her voice softer now but no less insistent. "I just want you to be happy. To be normal."
The word landed like a blow, sharp and heavy. Normal. Chris closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. "Mom, I don't need to be 'normal.' I need to be me. And if someone can't accept that, then they're not right for me. End of discussion."
He ended the call before she could respond, the click of the phone echoing in the now-silent room. Chris took a deep breath, trying to release the tension coiled tight in his chest.
King stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on Chris's shoulder. "You okay, babe?" he asked, his voice calm, a grounding force.
Chris nodded, though his emotions churned. "I just... I hate that she doesn't see me. She sees what she wants me to be, and it's exhausting."
King's touch stayed steady, his presence anchoring Chris in the moment. "You don't have to fight this alone. You know that, right?"
Loretta chimed in softly, her voice full of warmth. "You've got us, Chris. You don't need anyone trying to 'fix' you when you're already doing just fine."
Sebastian added a quiet, "Yeah, man. You're one of the best agents I know. You've got nothing to prove to anyone."
Chris glanced around at his team, their expressions a mix of concern and unwavering support. The noise of the office had shifted into something softer, less overwhelming—a reminder that he wasn't alone in navigating moments like this.
He let out a breath, the weight on his chest easing just a little. "Thanks, y'all," he said, his voice steadier now. "It's hard sometimes, but... I'm lucky to have people who get it."
King's hand gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We've got your back, always. And for the record, I think you're perfect just the way you are."
Chris smiled, the warmth of those words sinking in. "Thanks, King. That means a lot."
And it did. Because being seen—truly seen—mattered more than any attempt to fit into someone else's idea of "normal."