Chapter Text
Once upon a time, Mark asked Ethan what his classification was, and Ethan, embarrassed and nervous and only newly-classified, told him he was neutral.
Neither little nor big. A perfect middle ground that was exempt from most judgments or requirements. After all, littles needed caretakers so becoming a solo YouTuber that focused on gaming would be questioned. Are you sure these games are appropriate for your age?
And if he lied and said he was a caregiver, then there would be the question of when he’d get a little of his own and it was-
It was too much.
So he lied through his teeth and said Neutral like it was his god-given right to lie to Mark’s face.
It wasn’t like it could one day bite him in the ass…
Except that when he lied and told Mark he was neutral, he never really counted on the little detail that he’d one day work with Mark on a year-long project that required a lot of time together. Sure, they’d worked together and spent time together before, but this was different in so many ways.
Filming Unus Annus meant that he spent most of his time in Mark’s house, with Mark and Amy beside him as they discussed video ideas, shot their videos, and then talked over what they wanted to keep in and whether they needed to reshoot any of the clips.
Some days he felt like he spent more time with Mark and Amy than he spent in his own home.
He was so stupid.
He didn’t want to buckle down on his lie, though, not this long after telling it. Not now that Mark saw him as an equal on their channel.
It made for a good dynamic, after all. The fans seemed to love it, making meme after meme about ‘the exasperated caregiver looking like he’s one second away from throwing his biological impulses down the drain and straight-up murdering Ethan’ and ‘the hyperactive Neutral that could drive a saint to sin with his antics and inability to speak like a human’.
It was funny.
It was well-liked by a lot of fans, though there would always be people who either thought Ethan was too loud and annoying or thought Mark was too much of an ass that turned everything into a competition. There was no way of pleasing everyone though, so Ethan made do.
But God, it was tiring; because of how often he was with Mark, he needed to always be sure to carry his patches on him so that he didn’t slip in front of them.
It should have been basic enough to always remember to replace his patches to keep himself in a mature headspace, but between shooting videos for his channel and Unus Annus, needing to do prep for the videos, and managing everything else, it was… a lot.
There were a few times he almost slipped, of course. The first fitness test they did almost did him in, the aftermath of Mark’s anger visible on the wall.
[His breaths stuttered in his chest for a moment and the silence went on for far too long, the tension of the room crawling deep into his bones and making his ears ring- He forced himself to breathe, knowing that stress would cause his patches to stop working, and neither of them needed that .]
Another time he almost slipped up was the stupid paintball video, seeing Mark- tall, muscular Mark who could easily overpower him, anger clear on his face, walking towards him with intent.
[I did bad, Ethan had thought, his insides quivering even as he moved away and awkwardly laughed because he knew his charade would be over if the fans saw how scared he actually was, all wet-eyed and shaking. But Mark, ever the caregiver relented, making him agree to the deal instead.
For content.]
There were more, of course. More little almost-slip-ups that the audience laughed about, thinking it was always a bit. Or thinking it was just his personality and not that he’s… little.
A few hypothesized, some even went so far as to micro-analyze his behavior on long Tumblr posts he sometimes read through at late hours of the night, but for the most part, his proclamation of being a Neutral in a casual gaming video he posted sometime in the beginning of his career usually quieted all of the people saying otherwise.
Mark stretched against the sofa, looking through his phone as Amy looked through the footage of the day’s filming. “Any wonky shots?” he asked.
“Uhhh, not really. Might need to cut a portion out, but the audio checks out and most of what happens is in the frame.”
“Cool,” Mark said simply, scratching at his beard idly.
Ethan shifted on the other end of the couch as he looked at Amy. “So we’re done with filming for today, right?” he asked, picking at the stray pieces of string on his red sweater before he picked his phone up, twirling it a couple of times.
Amy nodded in assent. “Yeah, we’ve got a couple more videos in line for the next few days, so we can end it now and film more tomorrow.”
“Cool, cool.”
“You should stay for dinner,” Mark said, finally looking up from his phone, clicking it off while he looked the younger man over. Ethan didn’t meet his eyes, holding his phone up to his lips almost like a playing card.
After a moment, still looking at some spot in the corner of the room, Ethan responded, “I don’t wanna bother you and Amy, I can go.”
“Aw, buddy, you’re not bothering anyone,” Amy soothed quickly, the caretaker in her rising to the surface. “We love having you around, and plus, it’ll give us a nice chance to discuss more video ideas for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and we’re ordering pizza, so you’ll wanna stay for that.”
With that, Ethan reluctantly nodded and the room became quiet once again. Amy went to the kitchen, leaving Mark and Ethan alone. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? You seem quiet. You good?”
Ethan looked up at him, still not meeting his eyes but looking in his direction, at least. “‘M fine, Mark. Just... tired, I guess.”
“Are you sure? You’re not still in pain from the paintball gun, are you? Actually, lemme see what I did to you, shit, I should’ve checked earlier after the video. Sorry, man, here, lemme just-”
Ethan cringed away from his hand, pushing it away as his shoulders hunched upward, immediately on the defensive. Nervous eyes darted from Mark’s hands to Mark’s face and then back. “‘M fine, Mark. I’m not- I’m not hurt.”
The words should have been comforting, but they did nothing but trigger something deep in Mark’s instincts, an innate urge to fix whatever was causing the nervous look on Ethan’s face.
It was a lie. It had to be a lie from the way that Ethan left bite marks in his syllables, the words falling and dripping at an odd pace, Ethan’s eyes still drawn to everywhere that wasn’t Mark’s eyes.
There was a moment of silence as Mark looked him over, unsure of what he was looking for but damn if he wasn’t going to look for it anyway. It felt like he was watching a magic trick, knowing that there was sleight of hand taking place, but he just couldn't figure out which hand to look at, which hand would do the tricking. It made him uneasy. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here if you need me, man. Always.”
“Even if you find out I lied to you?” Ethan asked quickly as though he wasn’t expecting to say that, and though his lips pulled up into a nervous half-smile, his eyes were wet and watery when they finally met Mark’s.
Something's wrong, Mark’s mind whispered to him. Something was wrong but he didn’t know how to fix it.
Mark swallowed, unsure of where this was going but he nodded anyway. “Even then.”
Ethan raked his eyes over Mark’s face, searching. Mark didn’t know what he should be showing, but he tried to show as much honesty in his eyes, opening his expression up for Ethan to search for whatever he needed to find.
“Okay,” Ethan said, voice softer, steadier, no longer sounding like the words were flying out of him.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
The conversation dropped away at that. Mark wanted to push, but Ethan seemed calmer and he didn’t want to come off as overbearing. He decided to let Ethan open up at his own pace even if he was insanely curious and somewhat concerned at what the lie could be about. It surely wouldn’t have been anything to do with their work because that would have been unprofessional and Ethan valued what he did more than that- so it had to be personal.
But for the life of him, Mark couldn’t think of what Ethan might’ve lied about that would come up now.
“Hey bud, you alright?” Fiona asked, placing a warm hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan blinked, realizing he’d zoned out. Ethan swallowed nervously, feeling uncomfortably close to little at the warm matronly tone that Fiona spoke to him with, which was dangerous. They were done filming but that wasn’t what Ethan worried about. Weird moments could be edited out.
The problem was that Ethan still hadn’t told Mark or Amy about… about-
He’d come close a couple of times, but God, every time they met his eyes, he just couldn’t.
“Here, you have a leaf in your hair. Lemme get that for you, hon.”
Ethan stayed still, looking up at her with gratefulness clear in his eyes. “T-thank you,” he said softly, almost curling into himself at her bright smile.
“Hey, it’s no problem, kiddo. You did very good today with the girls.” She turned to look at the chickens, still wandering the area, oblivious to the storm swelling behind Ethan’s eyes.
Ethan hummed, nodding before he realized what she’d said. “Not a kid,” he said halfheartedly, eyes moving to where Amy and Mark were in the distance, discussing something to themselves. “Don’t need to be taken care of.”
“No?” she answered easily, “Well, maybe not, but littles, caregivers, and even neutrals need care now and again. So where are you on the spectrum?”
He didn’t want to answer. By fucking god he shouldn’t have answered. But the lie already weighed down his body like cold and wet clothes and he didn’t want to keep lying anymore.
Ethan cleared his throat, looking down at his hands. “I… I’m a little,” he said, hating how hard it was to admit something so small. “But nobody knows and it’s so tiring to keep pretending I’m not and- and I can’t-”
He couldn’t breathe. The words all jammed somewhere in the center of his throat and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, the tears jumping to his eyes as he pressed his palm against his eyes.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he forgot to replace his patch that day.
“Oh, hon. I’m sure that’s really rough. It sounds like you’re feeling real conflicted,” Fiona said softly, placing her hand on Ethan’s back again, soothing him with such a small action. “But, hey. You’ve got people who care about you and I’m sure they’d be glad to take care of you if you let them. It’s okay to put that mask away and let yourself be seen.”
“They’ll hate me for lying.”
“Do you think they would hate you and turn you away for being too afraid to tell them before?” she asked and he didn’t answer, knowing- knowing that they wouldn’t, not really. Angry, maybe. Disappointed, sure.
But hate? Ethan couldn’t imagine it, not from Mark and Amy. He didn’t know if he could take it if they did.
Fiona gave him a knowing smile, though sad at the edges as she looked at him. “I’ll go call ‘em over, yeah? I think you guys are just about set to go home anyway.”
Ethan didn’t answer, still busy trying to keep his body from overheating, his eyes still pressed against his eyes as tears leaked out from them anyways, fast and unbidden. Little whimpers left his lips so he clamped his mouth closed, his entire body shaking with every sob he tried to silence.
Beyond him, he could hear the words being whispered and exchanged, too far away for Ethan to really grasp all the disjointed letters and form them into words his frayed mind could understand.
He drifted for a while and when he next came back into himself, he had a hand on his shoulder again, and large hands pulled at his own, pulling his hands away from where they’d wandered up to grab at his hair in agitation. “Hey,” Mark said with a gently chiding tone, “None of that, bud. Come on, up you get.”
He was lifted into Mark’s arms, his head placed against his shoulder and- oh, Ethan belatedly realized, he was dropping.
Ethan sobbed something into Mark’s shoulder, something torn between an apology and a plea, but Mark only swayed him, a hand on Ethan’s neck to keep him secure in his arms. “Yeah, it’s alright. You’re tired, why don’t you cry it all out, yeah? Yeah, it’ll be okay. Everything’s fine.”
“We’re going to need some supplies,” Amy said, quickly listing out things as Evan wrote them down. Ethan drifted a little bit more, too disoriented and agitated to make out much of the drive home except that he was certainly sitting in someone’s lap in the backseat, tears still falling even as Amy pressed something into his lips.
A pacifier, he would later realize.
“How’s he doing?” Mark asked, looking in the rearview mirror for a second before he turned back to the road.
“He’s still upset. Can’t believe the little guy kept this a secret for so long. I can’t even imagine it,” Amy replied, running his fingers through Ethan’s hair, trying to keep him from growing more agitated during the ride.
Mark hummed, clicking his tongue at the driver in front of him. “Yeah, he definitely used patches or pills to keep from regressing. But damn, I don’t even know how long he’s been using them. That amount of headspace repression isn’t healthy. I don’t think he’s been in headspace at least the entire time Unus Annus has been running, and maybe even longer than that.”
“It might explain why he’s always excusing himself. He was probably replacing his patches or taking pills half the time.”
“God, why didn’t he tell us? We could have helped him out, arranged filming to be less stressful, and given him breaks if he needed them. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long, I would’ve thought he’d at least give a hint-” Mark said before he stopped suddenly, his fingers drumming against the wheel. “The lie. God, he- he mentioned something about it last month, about whether I’d be there for him if I found out he lied to me. I should’ve known that this was what he was hiding or I should’ve prodded a bit more, asked a few more questions, I just-”
“Mark,” Amy cut in gently, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t his either. He wasn’t ready to tell us, but now that we know, we can help him.”
Mark fell silent before he said, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. We'll help him through this."