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The impromptu phone call from Aimsey has left Tommy’s head reeling.
What the fuck? What do they mean, ‘acting like a kid’? Well- Ranboo’s always been kind of childish, emotional- he has a stutter and sometimes a lisp when he’s excited or scared, he cries a lot, very expressive. Maybe he might’ve understood if Aimsey gave him some more information!
He doesn’t understand and it makes him want to scream. So, because he’s always been extroverted and confrontational, he calls up Ranboo.
“Yello?” The familiar American accent makes Tommy’s nerves settle, then rise.
“Hey, Boo! How are you?” Tommy asks.
There’s a slight ‘pop’ noise from the other line. Tommy’s focus lingers on this for a second, but quickly drifts away as Ranboo answers.
“Uh, I’m doing well. Yeah. How are you, Tommy? Why’d you call?”
Tommy laughs, putting on his louder persona to appear more confident. “What, can’t I check in on my friends?” he mocks teasingly. “Nah- I’m good- I just had a question.”
“Sure, man. What’s up?”
His voice is tinged with nerves. The clear hesitance that twines into his accent makes Tommy’s heart feel weird for a second, but he pushes it away.
“Okay- yeah. Aims’ called me a couple weeks ago. And they were worried about you? They said you were acting-“
“Um!” Ranboo interrupts, barking a forceful laugh. “I.. I just remembered! I have- uh- a lot of- a lot of chores to do! I’ll call you back later-“
Tommy panics. Fuck, he fucked that up completely. “Ranboo! Hey, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that!”
Now Ranboo’s gonna be so mad at him, or upset and it’s gonna be his fault, and Aimsey’s gonna be mad too, and-
“It’s- It’s okay. Sorry. I just- didn’t wanna hear you, say it, and everything. I can explain.. if you want?”
“If you wanna, man. Don’t do anything you don’t wanna do. Take care of yourself, an’ all that shit. Y’know?”
Ranboo giggles slightly. “Yeah. I know. It’s- uh-“ he takes a deep breath. “Age regression. Basically, my brain decides that I have to be a child mentally. It’s stupid- I know-“
“Ran, Ranboo, hey. It’s not stupid at all. I’d never judge you, okay?” Tommy rushes to get this out, all in one breath. He’d never want him to think that he’s unsafe to talk to.
“Thanks. Thank you, yeah. That means- it means a lot. Same goes for you, Tommy.” Ranboo pauses for about 5 seconds before continuing. “I should- uh. Probably go. Now. Thanks for being so.. nice.”
“Oh, bye, Ranboo. Lovely chatting with you, talk later. Maybe tomorrow we can hang out?”
“Yeah. Sounds good. I’m free around, like, twelve. Come over then?”
“Alright! See you then.”
A beeping noise signals that Ranboo has hung up. That went.. not so good, but at least he has a very brief idea of what’s going on with his friend. He doesn’t know much- based on the very hurried explanation- he seemed so embarrassed, like he was a kid being caught doing something bad by his parents.
With nothing left to go off of, he opens a Safari tab on his phone, and types in ‘Age Regression’.
Age regression occurs when someone reverts to a younger state of mind. This retreat may be only a few years younger than the person's physical age. It could also be much younger, into early childhood or even infancy. People who practice age regression may begin showing juvenile behaviors like thumb-sucking or whining.
Curious, attention grabbed, Tommy clicks on a Healthline link.
Some people choose to revert to a younger age. In this case, it can be a coping mechanism to help them relax and eliminate stress. Age regression may be a symptom of a mental health condition, such as dissociative identity disorder or PTSD.
For a second, worry triumphs over his curiosity. It’s a sign of a mental health condition? He’s well aware of the fact Ranboo struggles with anxiety; maybe he’s been hurting more than Tommy has realised.
Closing the tab, he throws his phone face down onto his bed and huffs. At least he understands a little better, but he’s still worried and confused.
His heavy eyes scan the clock on the wall. 11 PM. Normally, he would roll over and go to sleep, it’s late, there’s problems that he wants to ignore.
But he has a feeling that even if he tries, he won’t be able to sleep with the pressing matters on his mind. So he lays on his back, pulls the blankets over himself, stares at the ceiling and thinks until morning.
-
It’s Monday. And Tommy’s standing outside of Ranboo’s front door in the pouring rain, knocking incessantly. They had made plans yesterday, and now the boy in question isn’t answering the door.
He’s right on time, too. His wrist twists as he checks his watch- quarter past twelve in the afternoon.
It’s worrying him. Ranboo hates being late to anything- it’s not like him!
Tommy knows that Ranboo hides a spare key under the doormat, though he doesn’t really want to practically break into his house- he doesn’t really have a choice. It’s pissing it down, Ranboo isn’t answering the door and he’s worried. So he reaches under the mat and swipes up the key.
Turning it over in his hands, he slots the key into the keyhole and swings open the door.
The sight that greets him is.. strange to say the least. Ranboo is sitting on the floor, cross legged, staring intently at his TV, which is playing some sort of cartoon, and fiddling with foam blocks. What’s even stranger is that Ranboo is currently nursing a pacifier between his lips, chewing and suckling on it noisily. He doesn’t seem to notice as Tommy approaches him slowly, tentatively.
His mind reverts back to the article he read. People who practice age regression may begin showing juvenile behaviors like thumb-sucking or whining.
“Hey, Ranboo..” Tommy begins to speak quietly, hopefully not scaring the mentally younger in front of him.
Ranboo’s head turns quickly and his face lights up. “‘oms!” his voice is tinged with a kiddish lisp- something he’s never heard the boy adorn before. It’s strangely adorable.
Tommy kneels in front of him. “Hey there.. whatcha doing?” He’s trying to take his own advice that he gave to Aimsey: treat him like a kid.
“‘toons. ‘ommy p’ay wif me..?”
He’s taken aback for a second- this isn’t how he expected their day to pan out- he was more thinking a stream or just chilling together- but this is fine too. Although, he doesn’t know how to take care of children, or toddlers (Ranboo definitely seems more like a toddler right now), he’s already here, and he doesn’t want to leave his friend by himself in such a state.
Tommy sits, crossing his legs in a mirror of Ranboo’s position. “Yeah, I’ll play with you. What are we playing?”
“B’ock! Bui’d!”
Ranboo grabs a couple of foam blocks and stacks them on top of each other, smiling wide behind the shield of his black and white pacifier.
Tommy feels a bit self conscious as he copies Ranboo’s movements, stacking a tower of brightly coloured cubes. It feels stupid, he’s not a child, so why is he playing like one? To distract himself from these thoughts, he counts each block he places, and stops finally when he counts to ten.
He hesitates for a moment, before turning to look at Ranboo. He’s still placing blocks onto his tower- but he doesn’t seem to notice how lopsided it’s becoming, until-
Crash!
The blocks fall to the wooden floor, and Ranboo’s grey eyes start to fill with frustrated and startled tears.
Oh shit. Tommy’s always been kind of emotionally constipated, and he does not know how to comfort people who are crying.
“Shit- shit- Boo, don’t cry, man, it’s okay. We can make it again, it’s okay.”
Ranboo hiccups a quiet sob as tears begin to fall from his lashes onto his cheeks.
“Gone!” he wails.
In a panic, Tommy hastily rebuilds the seven block high tower.
“See? It’s- uh. It’s all better now.”
The tears stop falling when Ranboo notices the newly put together stack of blocks. He claps his hands and coos happily; it’s a pretty cute sound, like a baby would make, but it makes Tommy wonder: how old even is Ranboo?
Tommy shifts. “Hey, Ranboo?”
The mentally younger turns to face Tommy with an inquisitive look plastered on his face. He makes a questioning sound, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right, confused.
“How.. how old are you?”
Ranboo holds up two fingers, grinning widely. “I’s ‘dis many! Big!”
At the mispronounced words, Tommy’s chest aches with a feeling he can’t place- his eyes are starting to water, but he doesn’t know why.
“‘oms sad..?” Ranboo asks, sliding closer to him. He reaches out with a clumsy hand and tries to wipe the tears that are sliding down Tommy’s cheeks.
Why is he crying? He shouldn’t be upset, Ranboo is adorable and it’s not a bad thing but he’s crying he’s so sad.
“I go gets Aim’ey.. kay..?”
Then he’s gone, racing across the house. The absence of his friend makes Tommy break out into full sobs: he covers his face with his hands, miserable and embarrassed.
He stares around the room, at the blocks littering the floor, the forgotten pacifier, the cartoons playing on the TV, and his heart aches with some unknown feeling. Want?
No. There’s no way he wants this for himself. He’s not a baby, not a child, he doesn’t have any sort of mental illness, this isn’t for him. It’s not made for him. He can’t be wanting this, what would Ranboo think? What would Wilbur think?
He doesn’t want this. He can’t.
Footsteps surrounding him shock him out of his thoughts. Aimsey kneels in front of him, Ranboo standing behind them with a distressed look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted.
Aimsey smiles softly. “Hey, Tom. Did you get a bit overwhelmed, hmm?”
The soft tone of their voice makes him all but melt, and he reaches out towards them, tears still leaking down his cheeks.
“Shh.. it’s okay. C’mere.” They wrap their arms around Tommy’s frame, rubbing gentle circles on his back with their thumbs.
It’s.. it’s nice.
“Ai’sey? ‘ommy tiny ‘ike me..?”
The comforting aura is quickly extinguished by the innocent question. Ranboo’s staring expectantly at both of them, eyes sparkling-
Tommy wants to scream. No, he’s not tiny, he doesn’t do that! He shakes his head rapidly, scrubbing his face with his palms. He doesn’t even know much about this whole ‘age regression’ thing! What does it entail? What does he have to do? Not that he wants to, but if, hypothetically, he did, how would he do it? It’s so confusing!
He whines, kicking his legs out in frustration.
“Shh.. it’s alright.. Ran, how about you play with your blocks? Make a biiiiig tower for me, okay?”
Tommy closes his eyes, relishing in Aimsey’s warm, inviting tone of voice. Even though they aren’t talking to him, it still offers a wave of comfort that washes over him.
He watches Ranboo as he stacks three blue blocks on top of each other, clapping when they don’t fall over. He giggles sweetly and looks down at Aimsey, seemingly for approval.
Aimsey gasps, “Wow! Good job, buddy!” they reach over and ruffle his hair-
And Tommy whines. His eyes (embarrassingly) fill with unshed tears for the second time that day; he still doesn’t know why he’s upset!
Without missing a beat, Aimsey’s hand runs through Tommy’s own curls- it’s a soothing gesture, and it helps him to settle. His blinks grow slower, eyes heavy, begging for him to close them, until he finally does.
Ranboo’s loud laughter causes him to startle- one of his eyes open and he grumbles, curling more into Aimsey’s embrace.
“Ran, shh.. Tommy’s falling asleep.”
Tommy yawns, his pointer finger resting on his bottom lip, for some reason. People who practice age regression may begin showing juvenile behaviors like thumb-sucking or whining. He rips his finger away from his mouth.
Aimsey starts to hum, and unfortunately, it’s enough to cause him to drift right off to sleep, warm and cozy in his friend’s lap.
The last things he remembers are the gentle hums and shushes, comforting him and rocking him to sleep.
-
When he wakes up, everything is dark, and he’s definitely not in his own house. He’s laying on a bed, covered in soft, white blankets- and there’s something rubber in his mouth.
He plucks it out, turns it over in his hands. It’s a pacifier, red with a white shield- it’s very Tommy-esque, and he hates how he misses the comforting weight on his tongue. His brain feels a little fuzzy, but he chalks it up to having just woken up.
Reluctantly, he places the pacifier back into his mouth, relief flooding into his bones. He suckles on it tentatively, but freezes when something shifts beside him.
He looks over. Aimsey’s sitting beside him, scrolling on their phone.
“Hey, little guy. Have a nice nap?” They ask, and something in Tommy breaks.
Tommy starts to cry, the pacifier falling out of his mouth. He’s cried so much today, and his eyes and brain are both so, so exhausted.
“Hey, hey! What’s wrong, Tommy?”
Tommy hiccups. “Not- not little! Can’t be little- no, no, no! Not ‘llowed!”
Aimsey falters, before smoothing Tommy’s hair back, making tiny shushing noises. “What do you mean? Of course you’re allowed to be little, bud.”
“Not made fo’ me!” he protests, finally sitting up. He whines at the loss of his pacifier, and his hands search around for it.
“Regression isn’t ‘made’ for anyone, Toms. Anyone can be little! It’s just a coping mechanism, or a way to relieve stress.“
He whines again.
“You don’t have to feel bad. You can be as little as you want, okay?”
With those reassuring words, Tommy lets go of his adult headspace completely, dropping hard and fast. He feels so tiny- it’s overwhelming and weird and new and is this how Ranboo feels?
He wants Wilbur.
He’s crying again, shoving the pacifier back into his mouth as he makes grabby hands for Aimsey.
“Wilby!” Tommy wails. “Wan’ Wilby!”
Aimsey shushes Tommy, grabbing their phone from the bedside table and tapping the screen a few times. A few words show up, but he can’t even begin to understand them.
“Hello?” Wilbur’s voice rings out in the otherwise silent room, and Tommy whimpers.
“Wilby!”
“Hi, Will. Uh, random question; have you ever heard of age regression?” Aimsey asks between shushes.
There’s a pause from the other line. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Why?”
“Tommy’s regressed, and he’s asking for you. He’s at my house, do you think you could come and get him?”
“Awh, of course I can.. I’ll be about ten minutes.” Wilbur’s smile is audible through the phone. “You doin’ okay, Toms?”
Tommy hiccups another sob. “Wan’ Wilby!”
Wilbur hums gently. “It’s okay, bub. I’ll be there soon.”
“Thanks, Will. See you then. Bye.”
Aimsey hangs up, and Tommy breaks into a fresh set of tears at the loss of his big brother.
He wants Wilbur, why doesn’t Aimsey understand that?! That’s all he wants! He needs his big brother!
“Shh.. it’s okay.. Wilby will be here soon..” Aimsey whispers, pushing his curls away from his forehead. “Do you wanna go wait for him?”
Tommy nods, and Aimsey grabs his hand, leading him out of the spare bedroom and into the living room, where Ranboo is laying on the couch, wrapped in fuzzy blankets, watching Spongebob.
“‘ommy!” Ranboo cheers when he notices Tommy’s entry. “Watch wif me!”
He toddles over to the couch and sits beside the taller boy. Ranboo immediately pulls Tommy into a tight hug- he squeaks as he’s squeezed.
Sure enough, Wilbur arrives in a short while. He knocks three times, then enters; once he’s in Tommy’s line of site, the boy in question practically shoots out of his seat like a rocket, barrelling into Wilbur’s tall stature.
Wilbur returns the hug, chuckling fondly, before picking Tommy up and placing him on his hip, like you would a baby. He squeals, excited at the arrival of his dear brother, and grabs the fabric of Wilbur’s white button down shirt.
“Hi, Toms! How are you, sweetheart?” he asks, voice soothing and sweet like honey.
Aimsey runs a thumb over his head, tutting gently. “He’s had a bit of a rough day. I think he just needs his big brother, hmm?”
Tommy coos, hands grabbing onto Wilbur’s glasses and pulling them off of his face. He giggles as he fiddles with the frames.
“Tommy, please don’t break my glasses,” Wilbur says, voice a sigh of joking exasperation.
“Not!” He sticks his tongue out at his big brother, who promptly laughs, a comforting sound that rings in his ears long after it ends.
Wilbur bounces Tommy on his hip, then turns his attention to Aimsey. “Well, I think we should go before it gets too late.”
“Fair, goodnight. Safe travels, Will.” Aimsey smiles up at Tommy. “Goodnight, little man! Thanks for hanging out with us!”
Tommy clumsily hands the glasses back and waves at Aimsey. “Bye-bye Aims’!”
They exit with a quick goodbye, and once Tommy is buckled into the passenger seat of Wilbur’s car, he’s quickly overcome by exhaustion, the events of the day finally catching up with him.
His eyes close as Wilbur starts the car, the gentle hum and vibration lulling him into another sleep.
-
It’s bright when Tommy’s eyes open again; the sun shines through the windows, illuminating the bedroom that once again isn’t his.
He pushes the brown blankets off of himself and crawls out of the bed that he now recognises as Wilbur’s. Something falls out of his mouth- that pacifier.
He picks it up and gently places it on the bedside table, before wandering into the living room, where Wilbur is sitting on the couch, watching some old comedy show.
“Morning, Toms. Did you sleep well?” Wilbur’s voice and expression are completely neutral.
Tommy scrubs his face with his palms. “Yeah. Uh- sorry- about.. you know. Last night.”
“Tommy, you don’t have to apologise. You’re my little brother, let me take care of you.”
Tommy collapses on the couch next to him, and is immediately drawn into a side hug. It’s nice. He wants more of this. The way Wilbur embraces him, loves him for who he is, doesn’t judge him, jumps to care for him. He hasn’t had anything like this in a long time; he wants to savour it.
The fuzz engulfs his brain, and he quickly succumbs to it.