Chapter Text
Minho realised far too late that he should have been honest from the start. He couldn’t handle it as well as he thought he could — but it was embarrassing, wasn’t it? Having to depend on someone else, to drop into a mindset where he was entirely vulnerable, especially with how young he dropped. And around someone else? No. He didn’t like it. He hadn’t wanted that.
He was fully aware of how young Seungmin dropped and knew all about Seungmin’s dependency on the others— how the little couldn’t bathe himself, dress himself, etc when regressed. Granted, Minho hadn’t presented that young, but the fear that he might too, act like..that made his stomach feel uneasy.
That was an understatement, if he was honest, it terrified him.
He didn’t want to have to rely on someone else to perform basic, everyday tasks for him.
He wouldn’t.
He refused.
Maybe it was inevitable,
That he too, would start to crave something so— so foreign to him.
It was written in his biology after all.
Supposedly.
Though, both of the same class, there were two types of little one could present as; dependent and independent— both were equally as common, but whilst dependent littles couldn’t just drop and look after themselves, requiring caregivers to keep them healthy and their instincts satiated, independent ones could get away with living their lives how a neutral would, just with a few drops every now and again that they could deal with on their own, as nature had intended for them. They didn’t need a caregiver. It wasn’t a choice, it was just how their brains were wired.
Perhaps Minho shouldn’t have told Chan and the rest of the caregivers that he’d presented as independent when he hadn’t.
Hah.
It had been on a whim, his decision to lie like that.
Frankly, he’d gone to the clinic fully expecting to walk out with a Caregiver’s class or a neutral’s perhaps, and then to arrive back at the dorms and join Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin with looking after the littles. He was used to doing that anyway, so it wouldn’t be much of a difference, it was just nice to finally present and have it printed on an official document— at long last he didn’t feel different for being of his age and being unpresented. When the nurse— who had drew his blood a few days prior— handed him his results with a gentle smile, far too gentle than she should’ve been, Minho hadn’t thought anything of it.
Until he’d gotten to his car.
He had carelessly ripped open the envelope whilst sipping on his drink, popping the straw to the side of his lips, fully ready to read what he thought would be written there and be done with it.
It hadn’t been what he had expected.
He’d thought he was hallucinating at first, perhaps the radio (even if the volume was low), was too loud and his concentration wasn’t where it should be. Haha. Totally. He’d turned it down. And then he’d turned it off when the writing still didn’t change. And then he’d turned the car engine off too, maybe without that noise as a distraction he would be able to concentrate more. That was surely it. In pure silence, if he read it a few times over, it would change then.
Wouldn’t it?
It didn’t.
He understood now, the nurse hadn’t just been being nice to him.
________________________________________
Private and Confidential.
Re; Class Information & blood results.
Name/names: Lee Minho, DOB: 25.10.1998, Sex: male
•
Class: little
Age when regressed: 3
Dependent/independent: dependent
Caregiver required: yes
Registered caregiver/caregivers: ?
________________________________________
It was surprisingly the ‘congratulations!’ printed at the bottom that made his stomach churn the most.
There was nothing worth congratulating.
Nothing.
He’d told the others the truth— sort of. Well, that was a lie— he hadn’t, but if he had managed to convince them so easily, he could pretend it was the truth. That wasn’t how it worked (but it could be). And it would. He’d felt too sick to even register what he was saying properly anyway, his voice feeling too far away to his own ears, hands shaking around the letter as he had clumsily stuffed it into his jacket’s pocket.
“I’m a little,” he’d said— this time with confidence, pretending he didn’t see the seven mirrored faces of shock, pretending that a slight jolt of hurt didn’t radiate through his chest. “Independent though. Don’t let your eyebrows fly away.”
The surprise died down a bit then. Minho’s heart had clenched in his chest. That must’ve made more sense. It was fine. Life would just be the same as before.
He knew it would.
He didn’t feel any different.
(Yet).
They didn’t need to know the full truth— it wasn’t as if he was lying about his class, now was he? He had presented as a little, that was true, no lie there (he was just missing out a few very important details, no biggie).
Of course Chan was the first to wrap him into a hug. He looked happy, barely concealing the big smile on his face. Minho pretended that didn’t ruin his day more.
“That’s great! Do you want me to come with you to buy some plushies and—“
”No,” Minho interrupted, breaking free of the older man’s hold. “That’s okay. I can do it myself. Independent, remember?”
If Chan was hurt by Minho pushing him away like that, he didn’t say anything and for that, Minho was grateful.
“Of course. Let it all settle in first before you start thinking of those things. My bad.”
Things didn’t change.
Nothing.
It was as if he’d never presented at all.
And that’s what he had wanted, hadn’t he?
He had wanted things to stay the same.
Weeks went by; schedules were followed, performances were powered through, skz code’s were recorded, the other littles dropped at the end of the day— each one of them dependent on their caregivers. But there was no mention of his class, not even once.
Maybe Minho was doing them a favour, they already had their hands full.
Life went on.
Until life didn’t go on.
He’d never taken up Chan’s offer on the plushies.
Minho had started to feel increasingly unwell. Maybe he had truly underestimated just how hard a person’s biology could rule over them.
His body felt physically and psychologically weak. Nowadays it’s as if the most basic everyday tasks zap away all of his energy. Getting up out of bed had never been as draining, conversing with the others had never been this hard. Mentally, his brain felt like it was in scrambles, his thought processes constantly lag behind with nothing properly registering. It’s as if he’s in a constant state of dissociation, a huge wall of fog blocking his access to the outside world. His emotions are all over the place— he’s never lost control over them as much as he has been doing recently.
The amount of fall outs he’d been having with the others made him feel terrible.
And it all came down to one thing:
Jealousy.
“Innie!” Minho hears Felix babble, the little giggling happily as he crawls over to where the youngest little is sitting colouring on the floor. Chan is sat behind Innie, arms wrapped protectively around one of his babies, smiling and cooing at the shapes and patterns the little is drawing, praising him for his talent— echoes of oohing and awing follow from the others around them. “Innie! Lixie wanna colour too! Innie! Innie! Innie!”
Minho shuffles from where he’s sat on the couch at the other side of the 3racha’s & Hyunjin’s dorm’s living room, they’d all collectively gathered here tonight to spend time with each other— and for the littles to drop and be looked after.
Of course.
It was always about them.
If Minho’s eyes roll, it wasn’t on purpose, he promises. He has headphones on, phone settled in his hands as he absentmindedly clicks on things he has no interest in. He’d sent a selfie on Bubble earlier, but had decided to click off the app before he overshared. Even with how loud the music rattling in his eardrums is, probably far too loud to be safe, he still can’t block out the little’s voice. And that was another thing, he had started to act so— so impulsively.
His eyes land on them, on Chan’s hand gripping Innie’s, squeezing it affectionately, the way Chan’s arms are wrapped protectively around the little’s waist as if he could protect him from anything that would ever dare harm him, and Minho knows Chan would, Chan’s other hand gently holds Felix’s as he settles him down on the floor with them— so carefully, with so much love.
That could’ve been him. But it wasn’t.
Plushies and Blankets invade the entire living room; the caregivers had gone all out to spoil their precious littles. Blankets are draped over the couch, draped over their laps, with countless of the soft materials gathered in heaps on the floor. The littles had been making play dens earlier and blanket forts. Felix had asked Minho to help out, Minho had refused, bittering the tension between the caregivers and him even more.
It looks so cozy.
So cozy.
So inviting.
Minho doesn’t think he should join. He should stop staring.
But he’s halfway across the room. He wants to be there too, soft kisses on his forehead or the top of his head with gentle arms wrapped around his own waist. Oh, how much he just wants to get up, make his way over and throw himself into the middle. But he won’t. His arms cross against his chest as he suppresses the urge to curl into himself.
That wouldn’t be so independent of him, now would it?
That wouldn’t be so.. him.. of him either.
He changes the song. And then he changes it again. And again. And again.
It’s already so much effort to stay big at the most random of times, never mind in an area that’s been specifically built for the littles. That would be his last straw. His body had started to cry out for his attention, urging him to look after himself properly. And he had tried— Independent littles drop occasionally too, it wouldn’t be odd to be found with items often associated with littles, so he’d bought himself his own blankie— soft, cashmere and pretty. He had splurged on it in a panic, reckoning the more expensive, the better, softer the quality the better it would.. heal him if that was possible.
He’d wanted to feel better. He didn’t like feeling like this anymore.
It didn’t work. The memory of his Class letter haunted him.
Caregiver needed.
Caregiver needed.
Needed.
Not optional, needed.
He looks over again. It would be odd to join. Their last fall out was this morning. It’s probably too soon to make up— especially with how everyone had been avoiding him lately (his own fault, he knows). Besides, deep down he knows he can’t.
Everyone’s comfortable, all snuggled up with each other whilst wearing soft pyjamas. The big light is off, a small lamp cascading a yellow sea of colour over the room, the hue gentle and warm.
Minho focuses on the television, watching as the cartoon black dragon, toothless? he thinks, flies across the sky with a bit too much attention than he should be giving a children’s movie. Everyone else has popcorn. And it’s caramel flavoured too! He doesn’t have any. They didn’t even ask him.
He goes to stand up to go get his own when he notices out of the corner of his eye as Changbin gets up and drapes a blanket around Felix’s lap and then pops a small kiss on his forehead, uttering the words, “There we go Lix! All comfy!” As he hands him a sippy cup filled with juice.
Behind them on the couch Hyunjin and Jisung are gently running their hands through Seungmin’s hair. Seungmin drops very young, into babyspace at the age of 1 and a half. His eyes are droopy, trying desperately to concentrate on the movie but evidently failing, hands clinging onto the warm bottle of milk, with Jisung’s help he suckles on it every now and again.
And then here’s the main problem.
Minho wouldn’t say they forget about his class (he would, but he’s in denial). Chan hasn’t forgotten though. That makes him feel warm inside, feeding into the little side of him that craves that sort of attention. Chan asks how he’s doing, if he’s dropped recently, Minho will lie, tell him yes and then the subject is dropped. He knows Chan’s officially accepted that he’ll never be one of their littles. He’s a little yes. An independent one. They’ve all grown to accept that. But Minho doesn’t want them to think that anymore, he needs them.
He needs them. He just… he doesn’t know how to admit it. Doesn’t know how to feel comfortable with that side of himself.
He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to tell them the actual truth now.. perhaps if they subtly hinted? But they don’t, and why would they? Independent littles don’t need caregivers, without him telling them the truth they’ll never know, but he needs them to make a move first.
He needs to be held in Changbin’s or Chan’s strong arms, needs to be cuddled by Jisung and Hyunjin. Needs to spend time with his fellow littles.
Felix’s voice isn’t usually as annoying as it is right now.
“Channie!” Minho hears Felix squeal— getting tickled by the caregiver. Minho doesn’t want to be here anymore.
He pretends it doesn’t hurt as he gets up to leave. Maybe he looks back to see if anybody noticed. They haven’t. He’s fine. He’s not upset. Really, he’s not. His eyes are not burning, they’re not.
Everything is fine.