Chapter Text
Kyle’s head spins as he walks toward his apartment. At the beginning of the semester, Stan and Kenny had encouraged him to take a psychology class because it was an interesting subject, not because they wanted Kyle to psychoanalyze them.
It sucks to suck.
He thinks of all the ways the boys could possibly react to his proposal as he climbs the four flights of stairs that the broken elevator cannot help him avoid. He suspects Kenny will make a joke out of the whole thing and Stan will get frustrated and angry in an effort to hide his embarrassment. Either way, he feels he has a shot at helping his two best friends with this if only they’ll let him.
His hands vibrate with nerves as he shoves his key into the door, ungraciously barging into the apartment. He looks up and meets two shocked pairs of blue eyes, watching him from the couch. No one says anything as Kyle clears his throat and drops his backpack at the door, clutching his notebook for dear life as he strides to sit with the two boys.
“Heyyy….” Kenny starts in a futile attempt to lighten the confused tension, pausing the game he and Stan were playing and turning his body to face Kyle when he sits down.
Kyle opens and closes his mouth a few times, eyes darting back and forth between his two friends. Finally, he throws his hands up in an exasperated manner and stands.
“I need a chair for this,” He huffs and retrieves a bean bag from the other side of the room, plopping down in it and staring up at Kenny and Stan.
He nods, mostly to himself, before clearing his throat again and beginning to rifle through his notes from today. Kenny and Stan are uncharacteristically quiet, having known Kyle long enough to tell when he needs to give a lecture and knowing better than to try and interfere with the process.
Kyle gets to his desired page and looks up at his friends. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, easily returning the supportive smile from Kenny and resisting the coddling urge Stan’s confused puppy dog eyes provoke.
“Okay, I need you guys to just… hear me out, alright?” Kyle starts, holding eye contact with Stan, who he expects the most resistance from. Stan just stares blankly for a minute before Kenny nudges him. He looks back and forth between Kenny and Kyle before realization seems to wash over him and he gives a firm nod in response. Kyle just grins at him before looking down at his papers.
“So, I guess the best way to start this would be establishing familiarity. Have either of you heard of, uh, age regression?” Kyle asks, his voice surprisingly steady for how on edge he feels.
Stan, bless his heart, just furrows his brows and tilts his head with a slight shake of “no”. Kenny, on the other hand, has his eyebrows way high behind his shaggy bangs, an incredulous grin on his lips, “Ay, yo, dude, daddy kink?” He jokes, obviously realizing this is not what Kyle was getting at but choosing to say it anyway.
“No, Kenny, I’m not talking about a fucking daddy kink. This is serious,” Kyle scolds, rolling his eyes when Kenny just snickers and elbows Stan, getting a little chuckle out of him as well.
“Anyways, no, I’m talking about age regression, which is completely different from a daddy kink, Kenny. Age regression is a coping mechanism a lot of people use,” He trails off, suddenly afraid to admit aloud the reason he wanted to tell these two particular people about this.
“Kyle?” Stan asks after a few beats, holding eye contact with Kyle when he looks up at the sound of his name. Kyle soaks in the expressions on their faces; Stan looks more concerned than confused, probably recognizing that Kyle never has trouble speaking his mind; Kenny’s face is almost completely blank, but his eyes are just slightly wider than usual as if he’s hanging on every breath Kyle takes.
Kyle takes a deep breath, looking back down at his book.
“Age regression is especially common and effective with individuals who, uh, had traumatic childhoods, in some way or another.”
Kyle can hear the blood rushing in his ears and for a second he thinks the two boys on the couch can hear it too. The air feels as thick as molasses as everyone understands the implications of this statement. He can’t bring himself to look at his friends, too afraid to see their reactions. He doesn’t want anyone to be angry because he’ll feel the need to fight back, but he can’t fight them on how they choose to cope. He just wants to help. He taps his fingers anxiously against his notebook for a moment before deciding to continue reading. No one’s interrupted him yet, and if they get uncomfortable or pissed then they will. Foolproof plan.
“Age regression is characterized by an individual regressing to a younger state of mind. This can be done through exposure to certain stimuli and directions by a therapist, usually. Once the individual has reached a regressed headspace, they usually take part in childlike activities as a way to relive a childhood they may not have gotten to have. This is a strategy many use to heal their inner child and work through the trauma that they experienced when they were too young to understand it.” Kyle gulps, realizing his mouth has gone dry. He finds the courage to look up at his friends, needing to convey how important his next statement is.
“To practice age regression safely outside of a professional setting, it is often necessary to do so in the company of a trusted individual who is not partaking in regression. This person is typically referred to as a caregiver,” He finishes, looking back and forth between Kenny and Stan.
Kenny’s expression is still mostly blank, aside from the slightest squint of his eyes. Stan, on the other hand, looks like his world has been rocked. He has his brows furrowed roughly and his lips are turned down into a pitiful-looking frown. His eyes are locked on the carpet in front of him as he seems lost in thought.
Kyle clears his throat, setting his notebook on the floor next to him and crossing his legs, “Do either of you have any questions?”
“Why are you telling us this?” Kenny asks immediately, not sounding mad necessarily, but defensive and cynical for sure. Stan moves nothing but his eyes, locking his gaze with Kyle’s, indicating that he has the same question.
“Well,” The ginger starts, voice finally starting to betray him, “I thought it might help you guys to try this,” He folds his hands in his lap, holding eye contact with Kenny now, but acknowledging that Stan’s gaze still burns the side of his face.
“What, you think that because mommy and daddy were a little fucked up we’re fucking babies now? Are you saying we’re pussies because we weren’t silver fucking spoonfed?” Kenny snaps, arms gesturing wildly. Kyle’s eyes widen at the outburst, but his jaw drops when Kenny swats away the hand Stan brings to rest on his upper arm.
“Don’t fucking touch me, dude! Are you not hearing this shit? He’s treating us like a fucking pity project!” Kenny jumps from his seat to turn and face Stan, still flailing his arms to gesture to Kyle.
Stan slowly stands but leaves his knees bent slightly to match Kenny’s height. He keeps his hands held in front of his chest, ignoring Kyle’s perplexed and slightly impressed expression at the attempt to display non-threatening body language.
“He didn’t say we were pussies, dude, he acknowledged that we both had shit childhoods and told us something he learned in class today. That’s all this was,” He says gently, being very careful to speak evenly and not come across as condescending.
Kenny says nothing in response, but his arms drop to his sides. His shoulders are still squared and his chest still heaves, but he stays silent.
“You got mad when I grabbed your arm, right? And your first response was to get pissed and defend yourself, even though you weren’t being attacked,” He pauses, quickly jumping back into the conversation when Kenny takes a deep breath and starts to squeak out an objection, “Hey, it’s alright, dude. Look, my first instinct was to try to zone out because that’s how I dealt with my parents fighting. I never had anyone I needed to protect, so I never had to respond by fighting back or deflecting like you did,” He stops again, watching as Kenny’s shoulders drop and his facial expression morphs to one of denial as he looks at the floor.
Stan takes the opportunity to look at Kyle, receives a frantic nod of encouragement, and continues, “Look, my next instinct was to try to calm everyone down because that’s what I always did with my parents. He might have a point, Kenny, and that’s okay with me. You do what you want, but I think this is worth a shot and if I try it, I want you to at least be there to see how it goes,” He concludes, standing up to his normal posture and shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
Kenny looks up from the carpet to meet Stan’s eyes, still looking dubious but no longer enraged. Stan just keeps a small smile on his face, trying to keep everyone comfortable and not fighting. Kenny shifts his eyes to meet Kyle’s gaze, feeling mildly guilty when he sees the way his shoulders tense and eyes widen at simple eye contact. This is his main motivation when he heaves a sigh, shrugging with a dismissive shake of his head as he plops back onto the couch.
“Whatever, I’ll be there for you if you want me there,” He concedes.
Stan cracks a triumphant grin and immediately looks to Kyle for some form of praise. Kyle lets loose a shaky, breathy laugh, nodding at Stan.
“Stan, if you’re up for it, do you want to hear my observations about why I think this would be good for you?” He asks, excited to share what he knows about his friend and psychology. However, he receives a shake of the head in response.
“Nah, dude, that’d probably make me overthink the whole thing. Maybe if I like it and get used to it, you can tell me,” He says with a toothy grin. He releases a small chuckle at Kyle’s slightly disappointed expression though and steps away from the couch.
“I’m going to go shower now, whether we want to try this today or not. You can tell Kenny your analysis of how fucked up I am if he’ll listen, though. I consent and whatnot,” He calls over his shoulder as he makes his way down the hall to their shared bathroom.
The boys in the living room are silent and immobile until they hear the shower turn on, followed by the door closing. Kyle takes a shaky breath and looks up at Kenny, surprised to see blue eyes already locked on him. His expression is no longer angry, but looks more guilty and frustrated now.
“You can sit next to me now, dude, I’m not going to freak out on you,” He huffs.
Kyle relaxes a bit and complies, moving from the bean bag to nestle against the arm of the couch facing Kenny, who leans against the other one. They both just stare at each other, trying to communicate their apologies with their eyes because they’re both too stubborn to say it aloud.
“So, doctor B,” Kenny finally says with a sigh, uncrossing his arms and crossing his legs to imitate a stereotypical shrink, “What is our analysis on Marsh, Stanley?”
Kyle feels a weight lifted off his chest when Kenny graces him with a trademark shit-eating grin.
“Well, I think his constant desire for reassurance and love of praise comes from a lack thereof as a child,” Kyle states, appreciating the contemplative nod he gets in response.
“I also think he’s going to be very touchy-feely. I think he’s touch starved if I’m being honest, dude,” He says, sighing at the pain in his heart the thought causes.
Kenny grunts in agreement, uncrossing his legs and readjusting to sit comfortably again, “I think you’re onto something, for sure,” He says.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, dude, have you noticed he only touches people if he thinks they need it? And if people touch him in, like, a comforting way, he shrugs it off. He never says it makes him uncomfortable though. I think he just, like, doesn’t know how to accept it,” Kenny shrugs.
“You’re exactly right,” Kyle says, smiling sadly.
“Do you want to try it when he’s done showering? I don’t know anything about how long it takes, but I imagine it should be, like, as chill as possible, I guess?” Kenny asks, standing and stretching.
Kyle is surprised by the eagerness in his friend’s demeanor considering he’d been appalled by the whole ordeal maybe ten minutes prior. He takes it in stride, though.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be all about making the regressor feel comfortable. None of us work or have a class for the rest of the day or tomorrow, so today’s honestly perfect, assuming Stan’s up for it.” The ginger reasons, watching as his blonde friend bounds down the hall, barging into the bathroom without knocking.
“Stanny boy, you want to do this thing today or what?” Kenny shouts over the sound of running water.
“Yeah, dude, I’m game.”