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Everything about Bianca is perfect. There's nothing you don't love about her. And you know you shouldn't pick favourites, but you think the best thing might be that she never, ever touches you. Ever.
It doesn't hurt as bad to touch her as it does everyone else, so you do it sometimes, but she doesn't touch you. You can sit right next to her on the couch and she won't lean into you, and she can't walk so she can't squeeze your arm when she walks past, and she doesn't hug you at all, not once, no. You tell her you don't like it, and she listens. She's really nice like that. So it's okay if you cry in front of her because you know she's not going to try hugging you to make you feel better.
Which is great, because right now, you can't seem to stop crying.
"I'm sorry," You tell her. It takes so much more effort to get your words out than it should. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
Bianca stays quiet, letting you talk.
"I'm trying, I am, you can see that, right? I want- Dagmar says it's okay if I can't, but I feel like it's not fair to- Karin just scared me, that's all. I can take it. I'm trying to, at least. Why can't I take it?"
Your breathing keeps going funny, all sharp inhales and little gasps you can't really control, too fast to get any air. You should put your head between your knees, but you don't want to move. It helps, huddling down like this. Feels safe. Back against Bianca's bed, facing the door, so no one can surprise you.
Karin really hadn't meant it. She'd just been excited. You don't remember what she was excited for, because she hugged you, and then all you could think about was how it burned. It caught you off guard enough that you couldn't even manage to pull away. You just went limp, and she dropped you, and it wasn't until you were laying on the kitchen floor that you realised how stupid you were being, how badly you could've hurt her or the baby if she'd fallen with you. She could have died. You could have killed her.
It's too hot to breathe all of a sudden. You shrug off your sweater, your overshirt, shed all the layers you don't need because you're safe, no one's going to touch you.
That helps. It still doesn't feel like there's enough air in the room, but you're not burning anymore.
On second thought, you pull your blanket back around your shoulders. It's a little warm, but the weight of it soothes you; it's familiar, and soft, and it helps more than anything, stroking the wool and noting to yourself that it's all you can feel, no heat of someone else's body or the unpleasant textures of their clothes. Everything's safe and familiar here.
You don't even remember leaving the kitchen. You just kind of... Fell back into yourself, and you were already in the Pink Room with Bianca. Did you say sorry? You hope so. You'll go back downstairs in a second and make sure; you just need a minute to pull yourself together. That's all.
And maybe another minute to make sure you can keep it together because every time you imagine yourself apologising, you see Karin reaching for you again, trying to make you feel better, and you can't- you can't-
That isn't what's going to happen. Dagmar talked to her and Gus about this, and she's been working on it, hasn't she? It's okay if you're scared, but you don't need to be.
"Bianca-" It comes out as a sob.
Just breathe, Lars. Nothing bad is going to happen.
"It's already bad, Bianca. I really messed up, I could've hurt her, I could've... Anything could happen to her."
It won't. You're going to calm down, and then you're going to talk to Karin, and it's going to be just fine, you'll see. She knows you don't like being touched; she'll try not to do it again.
"She shouldn't have to try."
You've been trying to get better with this stuff. You can tolerate little things if you know they're coming, if you know it'll be over soon - you can shake hands without wearing gloves now. But that's just improving your pain tolerance. Learning to cope with the unavoidable, all the tiny moments of contact that come with being around other people. It doesn't hurt any less. You can take it, but you don't want it. Dagmar can't say if you ever will, if you'll even be able to tolerate as much as a normal person, if this is the best you can do. Try to cope better, because it might always be something you've got to cope with. It doesn't feel good when Gus puts his hand on your shoulder, or comfort you when Karin hugs you. It doesn't make you feel better.
What makes you feel better is this: sitting on the floor of the Pink Room with your knees drawn up to your chest, your blanket around your shoulders, holding the corner of it over your face so you can nuzzle into the soft fabric. Rocking back and forth, but only a little, you're not a kid anymore. And no one touching you. And talking to Bianca, because she treats you like you're normal. That perfect middle ground where you don't need to either be like other people or be alone, where you have someone who's willing to take you as you are.
You want that all the time. With everyone. You want to walk into a room know that every person in it sees you as a real person no matter how bad you are at being one.
That's the real best thing about Bianca. That with her, it's okay if you don't want to be touched. She'll still love you the same even if the most you can ever do is hold her hand for a few seconds. Even on the days where you can't take that either. Some days, more and more often, Bianca makes you feel like what you want is possible.
It's not just me, Lars. Everyone else loves you too. Even if you never let them touch you, they'll still keep loving you.
The noise you make can't be called anything but a whine, choked and desperate and awful. You bite your blanket to muffle it. "Do you really mean that?"
You can't see her, facing away with your eyes squeezed shut, but you know Bianca nods.
"They don't think I'm being weird?"
A shake of her head.
"Even if..."
There's so much you could say. So many reasons for them to give up on you, because they've tried their best, but they just can't do it. You have to draw the line somewhere. At some point, it's too much work to pretend you're normal.
They love you. You know that I love you; it's not so hard to believe other people do too, is it? Karin loves you. Gus loves you. They care about you, not what you do. They don't mind because it's part of you, Lars, they'd deal with a lot weirder to keep loving you. Nothing bad is going to happen. No one is going to leave, or if they do, they'll come back. I always come back, don't I? They're okay. You're okay.
Something tightly wound inside of you starts to loosen a little bit as you listen to her. It's not that you don't know they love you, it's just- everything is easier when it's Bianca. You can't doubt her like you doubt yourself. Like you doubt everyone. Everything you know about her is a fact, plain and simple, impossible not to believe; she loves you and she'll be here forever. The information sticks in your head in a different way when it comes to her, as if she exists in some perfect little place where none of your fear can get in. Nothing can shake how hard you believe in her. You can't do things alone. But with Bianca, suddenly you can. You can talk to people, you can go places, you can live in the world like a real person instead of hiding in the garage.
Everyone loves Bianca, you're sure of that. And you're the one who brought her into their lives, who asked them to make her feel welcome; they wouldn't do all of this for Bianca if they didn't love you. Right? They invite her to church, to parties, to girls' nights out. You go too a lot of the time, and everyone's happy to see you there. And when you don't, they take her out, but they always bring her back. Gus and Karin let her stay in their home, have her over for dinner, talk to her even though she's shy and it's hard for her to find the words to say anything back sometimes, and they keep doing all of that again and again. They love her. They love you.
"I know they don't get it. Karin..." You swallow hard to clear the lump in your throat. "She likes hugging; she really does, she can't see why anyone wouldn't. Everyone else likes it. They- I don't know why it hurts, I can't expect them to understand it."
They don't need to understand it. They just need to accept it. Do you think that's possible?
It is. The realisation hits you with unexpected certainty: it is possible. If they can accept Bianca, they can accept you. You don't know why you feel so sure of that - you've got a lot in common, but you're pretty different people - but you are. The thought settles in your head the way facts about Bianca do, heavy with faith, sinking down past everything else to some place safe at the heart of you.
Everyone who is capable of loving her is capable of loving you. They care. Even if she doesn't talk much or talks too much. Even if she feels like she's new to being a human being. Even if you she doesn't want to touch anyone. They still care.
You breathe in shakily and let it back out slower. You redress yourself in all your layers, drying your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. You wrap your blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, and you get to your feet, and you turn to look at Bianca, sitting there in bed. And your skin still burns too much to touch her, but she doesn't mind. She doesn't reach for you. She just smiles, and you know that she loves you. You know that she isn't the only one.