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Joe hadn’t expected this. Xisuma’s scaffolding frame wasn’t anything that should raise any suspicions about his regression, they didn’t think, but after having ducked under the lowest scaffolding rung and into the grassy, open air area, Joe couldn’t deny starting to feel the fuzziness of regression seeping into his mind. A playpen. Joe could’ve smacked herself— of course the square-ish boundaries and high walls and breaks in the scaffolding letting the breeze seep though like mesh would simulate a playpen.
A playpen sounds fun, though! her mind supplied hopefully. They plop themselves down in the plush grass and struggle to get the heavy enderchest out of their inventory. He places it with a thunk beside him and opens the top with a woosh before gazing at the assortment of shulkers before him and—there it was!—pulling out the light blue one plastered with stickers.
He rummages through the box, fingers grazing against the soft fur of his teddy bear Atlas which he promptly takes out, gives a hug to, and gently sits next to him before continuing his search. His blocks could be fun to play with, but they were really better suited for somewhere inside with a flat floor; same idea with his trains and car; but his Hotguy, Poultryman and Cuteguy figures he could play with! And her stuff from the toy shop in Scarland! They survey their options: Jellie plushie, though that was best to leave in the box where it couldn’t get dirty (Atlas was too important to him to leave anywhere but at his side or in his lap, though), volcano toy, which they love to watch light up and make explosion noises, the Scaland castle playset, the safari animal toys from Adventure land, Princess Jellie doll, and the Princess Jellie dress, magic wand, and crown which are the best for dress up. She decides to play with the castle and doll, and pulls both out and arranges them beside Atlas.
Okay: playpen, toys, what else did Joe need? They’re kinda thirsty, so they pull out their sippy cup—they can’t wait to fill it up with yummy orange juice!—before realizing there were no more spare juice bottles in the shulker. But there were always potion bottles filled with juice in her shulker! She feels the burn of tears in her eyes. This wasn’t fair! He always had orange juice when he was little, why couldn’t things just be the same as they always were? She whimpers because her insides feel all squiggly. It was all too much. Their breathing speeds up, chest heaving in and out. They don’t feel good at all! They feel so yucky! Tears spill out of his eyes as he squinches them shut and rocks back and forth and flaps his hands furiously and swings his head from side to side, almost as if he could shake all the bad out of him.
After a while she stops swinging her head, but keeps flapping with one hand and uses the other to grab Atlas. He brings the bear to his cheek and rubs it up and down, the soft fur wiping away his tears and soothing him. Atlas was the bestest. He was always really good at helping them when everything felt wrong. He knew Auntie Cleo had explained once why sometimes he felt so bad, something about how his brain works differently and that was okay, and—
Cleo! She could fix this!
They hastily wipe their eyes behind their glasses, sniffling, and go to type at the communicator on their wrist.
Joe Hills whispers to Zombie Cleo: Small and need help I’m at Xuma’s bamboo string box
Zombie Cleo whispers to Joe Hills: I’m on my way, kiddo
Joe manages to crack a wavering, small smile as relief floods through his chest. Cleo’s coming. They move from rubbing Atlas on their face to holding the bear close against their chest, fingers combing through his velvety fur as they continue to rock to and fro. They still felt pretty icky, especially now that their head pounds from crying and their wrists and fingers ache from flapping too hard and too long. He lowers his neck and pushes his face into the top of Atlas’s head, but feels the frames of his glasses bite into his face, and so removes them. They keep rocking until they hear the whizzing of rockets and glance up to see Cleo as she lands.
She kneels before him,
“You okay, bug?”
He goes to speak before realizing that he can’t. They point at their throat.
Cleo winces sympathetically,
“Can’t talk, yet?”
Joe nods.
“That’s okay, bubs. We can use fingers, yeah? One for yes, two for no?”
They hold up a finger, and Cleo gives them a soft smile.
“Can I give you a hug?” she asks
He considers it—he still feels kinda bad, but a tight hug would be sorta like the weighted blanket he had at home, right? She’d done it before after he felt bad like this and he remembers it feeling good—so he nods and opens his arms. Cleo leans forwards and pulls him against her, putting most of their strength into the hug. Joe nearly starts crying again because she’s pressing into him hard enough and just right and it’s nice and dark with his face smushed against her chest and she smells like the flower perfume Auntie Stress makes for her and he loves that smell because it means home and family and that he’s safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.
He whines when Cleo pulls away from the hug, and she gives him a soothing shh.
“You’re all good, kiddo. I just need to ask you a few more questions and then we can get home and get you in bed nice and snuggly under your blankets since I’m sure you’re pretty tired, huh?”
Joe nods, he is really tired now that she mentions it.
“I think you had a bit of a meltdown earlier, didn’t you?”
Joe feels his cheeks burn with shame, he basically had a tantrum, and only the smaller littles like Grian typically had tantrums—he was a big kid! It was as if Cleo could read his mind, though, when she continued,
“You shouldn’t feel bad about it, bud, it’s out of your control. It’s something you can’t help, and I’m not mad at you for it so I don’t want you being mad at yourself for it either, okay?”
He nods, he guesses he could try.
“Can you hold up with your fingers how old you are?”
They think about it; the meltdown definitely made them feel younger than their usual 5-8. He settles for three and holds up the according amount of fingers.
“Three? Okay, does that mean you want your paci when we get home?”
Actually, yeah! That sounds like a really good idea! Cleo was always super smart like that. He nods faster than usual to show how much of a good idea he thinks that is. Auntie Cleo chuckles,
“Message received loud and clear, kiddo. We should probably get you home then, don’t you think? Do you feel okay enough to walk?”
He frowns. Walking sounds so hard right now! Plus he knows how much safer he’d feel closer to Cleo, so he shakes his head.
“That’s okay. Let’s get you packed up first, though”
First she grabs his glasses and hands them to him to put back on his face. Secondly she goes over to the castle playset and Jellie doll and places them back into the shulker. She then hands it to Joe to put back into his enderchest before she retrieves a shulker of her own and pops it open to pull out a plain red pacifier.
“Now I have this spare for when someone needs one, but I know that it’s red and that’s not one of your safe colors. Would you be okay using it anyways?”
Blue and green were safe colors, yellow was the next safest followed by orange then purple and then red, and he really wants a pacifier, but he was still too weary to trust anything other than something safe right now. He really did not want to cry again. They hold up two fingers. Cleo nods and puts the pacifier back before stuffing the shulker into her inventory. She helps him load the heavy obsidian chest back into his, and helps him stand up by grabbing his elbow and offering a hand since one of his arms was still wrapped tightly around Atlas. Cleo picks him up, and rests them on her hip.
“Alright, now let’s get going, yeah, bug?”
Luckily the walk back to his base was pretty uneventful. They didn’t run into any other hermits, which Joe was grateful for. Instead of going to his chest-adorned beacon, however, Cleo took him to the small wooden cabin he had built earlier in the season for when he was regressed and wanted some privacy. It wasn’t big, but that helped it feel more cozy. As they enter his room: blue walls with a mural of his deep field pinball machine from the previous season splayed on the far one, courtesy of Scar, and glow-in-the-dark stars pasted to the ceiling in the forms of his favorite constellations, Joe can’t help but sigh with relief. He was home. She was safe. Cleo was here. Everything was gonna be okay.
Cleo sets him down on his bed and draws the blackout curtains to darken the room. Much better. They flick on the lava lamp on Joe’s bedside table and turn on the fairy lights strung on his bookshelf and plug in his nightlight to provide some light for Joe—zombies have exceptional night vision so the darkness wouldn't be an issue for her. Soft, colorful lights begin to dance along the walls. She takes a knee to take off his shoes and gets up to go put them by the front door where they belong. She returns and crouches down again, but this time replacing his boring socks with the colorful fuzzy ones Joe loves when regressed.
“I’m gonna take your shirt off now, okay? We’re gonna get you out of these itchy clothes and into some comfy pajamas, alright? Arms up for me, bud”
He complies and Cleo slides off his shirt and has him lean against her for support as he takes off his pants before he sits back down. She goes to his set of drawers and opens the top one. She pulls out his set of space pajamas, his favorite ones because space is super awesome, duh, and helps him into them before tucking him into bed and dragging his weighted blanket up to his chin and giving him a kiss on his forehead. Joe hums contentedly.
“I’ll be back in just one second, okay? I’m going to go get your paci and finally get you that juice”
Oh yeah, the juice! They really wanted it now, super super lots cuz they were crying and that made their throat real dry. He gives her another bleary hum. She smiles at him before she ducks out of the doorway.
It wasn’t long before Cleo returned, sippy cup in one hand and paci in the other. It’s green with a light blue “@” symbol on the front of it, and Joe reaches for it happily. Once they have the pacifier clutched safely in their grasp they gratefully accept the sippy cup full of juice. Finally. He has a few sips, toes wiggling happily as he drinks, and then pops his pacifier into his mouth. The heaviness of the day and exhaustion after such intense stimming and emotions fully hits him now that he’s had his juice and has his paci and is safe at home with Auntie Cleo. He blinks languidly at her, who seems to sense how sleepy he is. She really is the best.
“Seems like you’re good and ready for a nap now. Do you want any of your lights on, or should I turn them off?”
Joe points to his lava lamp and shakes his head, same with the fairy lights, but nods while pointing at his nightlight. She goes around turning off the aforementioned devices, room getting darker and darker, and Joe getting sleepier and sleepier. Now with only the nightlight and faint glow from the stars on the ceiling, Cleo reaches the door way and asks,
“Do you want your sound machine on?”
He nods. They flick on the machine, set to its lowest volume, and the soft sounds of rain falling caress his ears.
“I love you, Joe. I won’t leave and will be here when you wake up” Cleo says, to which he gives her a faint noise in return, and she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Joe settles. Breathes in and out. Listens to the rain. All is well. They fall asleep.