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Yeosang never thought he’d be the type to regress.
For months, he had watched from the sidelines, observing the way Wooyoung slipped into little space, so incredibly natural- releasing all of his gathered stress like muscle memory.
Wooyoung slipping had become a familiar rhythm within their busy idol schedules- His friend’s laughter echoing through the dorm, his boundless energy filling every quiet moment, the way he seeks comfort so easily, never second-guessing his needs.
The others had embraced it without hesitation, falling into their roles of caregivers effortlessly, meeting him with patience and care.
Ofcourse, it had taken time for everyone to adjust to the new addition of Wooyoung’s coping mechanism, but now, looking at the way he thrives- safe, happy, unburdened- Yeosang couldn’t imagine things any other way.
He didn’t think much of it at first. It was just something Wooyoung did, something that helped him, something that worked for him.
Yeosang simply accepted it, offered the same quiet support as the others, and continued on.
His role as a caregiver has been a bit- interesting, however. He didn’t quite fulfill Wooyoung’s urges to be taken care of, and even though he tried to treat his friend with subtle gestures of affection, he never quite left the awkward stage of caregiving.
Rather, the more he watched his friend regressing, the more something began to settle in his mind, a thought so soft he barely noticed it at first.
Wooyoung seemed lighter when he was feeling little. His usual whirlwind of energy became something purer, unfiltered.
There was no hesitation in the way he reached out, no second-guessing when he needed comfort, no lingering weight pressing down on him. He just was.
And Yeosang found himself wondering more and more what regressing would feel like.
The thought took root before he could push it away, even though he tried his best to cover the feeling as much as possible around the others. Regressing was Wooyoung’s thing, not his- and he figured they should keep it that way.
It wasn’t just about curiosity, however. It was about the way exhaustion clung to him more often than not, about the quiet ache of responsibilities he never allowed himself to set down.
Eventually, he started asking questions. Hesitant at first, careful not to reveal too much of the thoughts circling in his head.
And Wooyoung, ever the open book, had been quick to read between the lines and encourage him.
‘You’d be the cutest little, I just know it!’ he had grinned, practically buzzing with excitement, glad that his friend would consider regressing as well.
‘Just try it once! If you don’t like it, you never have to do it again. But I bet you’d love it, Yeo.’
Yeosang wasn’t convinced for a while after, but the others had been patient upon being informed about his curiosity, never pushing, only reassuring him that there was no right or wrong way, only what felt right for him.
And then, one night, exhaustion pressing against his bones, the weight of the day too heavy to carry- he let go.
That first time, he didn’t slip far- maybe four- or five-years old maximum. He still talked, still had some control over himself, still understood what was happening around him, but just a bit different.
Softer. The edges of the world blurred just enough to make everything feel easier.
They had watched him carefully, adjusting to his needs just like they had for Wooyoung.
And for a while, that was enough. Yeosang was content with the toys he could play with throughout the day, the way he was cared for and he felt even more delighted whenever Wooyoung would regress as well, having a playmate to build blanket forts or large blocked towers with.
That was until their dynamics naturally shifted a bit. After a few weeks of regressing, Little Yeosang found himself dropping younger and younger.
And so, after a week or three, he dangled on the edge of babyspace with every day spent regressed, reaching the peak of babyspace eventually more often than not.
It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t even intentional.
They started to take notice of the age drop within small moments- small signs that, at first, weren’t all that telling, but quickly became less of a coincidence.
It was a quiet afternoon when Yunho sensed the shift for the first time, and he couldn’t feel more touched by the hidden trust implied.
Because, Yeosang hadn’t dared to fully let himself regress around the others before, and they took notice of that fact by the way he would get more fidgety whenever he needed their help, resulting in toddler breakdowns.
The younger had been curled up in his lap, soft and pliant, playing with the sleeve of Yunho’s hoodie in wonder, twisting the fabric between his fingertips and brushing against it to explore the sensory item.
They had learned that little Sangie seemed to be even more introverted and shy around them when little than he had already been naturally, barely talking to them out of his own initiative and avoiding direct eye contact whenever he could, so it initially took Yunho a minute or two to notice the slip of age.
‘Tired-’ Yeosang had mumbled, rubbing his eye with one of his sweater sleeves while shyly easing his cheek against his caregiver’s chest.
‘I know, baby,’ Yunho hummed, rubbing soothing circles into his back.
‘ Long day, huh?’
Yeosang nodded.
However, the next time the older spoke, the little had magically shifted to a non-verbal state and simply answered in sounds, close to brabbles.
‘You wanna lay down for a bit, flower?’
Nothing.
Not even a shake of the head.
Just a tiny, absentminded squeak- soft and unfocused, like he wasn’t really present within the moment.
His fingers curled tighter into Yunho’s hoodie, clutching it, and when the older tried again, the only response was babbled nonsense, half-formed words mixed with airy huffs.
Yeosang wasn’t responding directly anymore, lost in his own world as he glanced at the older’s hand with intrigue.
His body was still limp and trusting, the warmth of Yunho’s embrace enough to keep him grounded, but his ability to speak was gone.
And that was when Yunho realized, this wasn’t the same headspace as before.
-
The next time they noticed the shift, it was during dinner.
Seonghwa had placed a plate in front of him, carefully arranged dino nuggets, just like Wooyoung, who had slipped somewhere down the line as well when he saw Yeosang stacking a tower of colorful blocks earlier.
The nuggets had been a small, thoughtful thing, something to make Yeosang smile.
But the regressed younger had just glanced at them in wonder.
For minutes.
At first, they thought he was just distracted. Maybe he wasn’t hungry.
‘Yeo, baby,’ Seonghwa said softly, tapping his finger against the plate. ‘ Eat your nuggets, love.’
Yeosang blinked at him. Then at the food. Then back at him.
He tilted his head slightly, lips parting, expression dazed.
And then, after a long moment, he picked one up, held it in both hands like it was foreign, and simply observed the nugget like a prized possession.
Not eating. Not biting.
Just looking at it, completely lost.
Wooyoung had let out a tiny giggle. ‘The dino does rawr, Sangie! Jus' like appa when Woowie and appa play dinosaurs.’
But Yeosang didn’t respond like he usually would when he regressed, he simply blinked at his friend in wonder.
That was when the realization hit.
‘Tiny one, do you know how to eat it?’ San asked gently.
Yeosang looked up at him, big eyes round and clueless. And then, after a hesitant pause, he tried to put the whole thing in his mouth.
They stopped him before he could choke, of course, but the message was clear- he wasn’t understanding food the same way anymore.
That was when Seonghwa made the decision.
‘Okay, baby. We should discuss bottles when you’re big again.’
And just like that, they became familiar with a really little Yeosang, and they had grown to love every single thing about him.
-
It was Wooyoung’s favorite part of the day- snack time.
He sits cross-legged on the floor, happily munching away, his legs wiggling with excitement as he chews while glancing at the cartoon playing in the background.
Across from him, Yeosang is nestled comfortably between Seonghwa and San, his wobbly hands clutching at the sleeves of their shirts as he babbles softly, lost in his own little world.
Wooyoung gasps enthusiastically when digging into his snack bag, pulling out an animal cracker for his little regressed brother.
With a bright grin, he holds it out towards him, his little fingers wiggling in excitement.
‘Yeo-Yeo, f’you!’ he chirps, bouncing slightly from where he sits.
‘Sangie huwngry~!’
The older blinks at him, his round eyes flickering between the cracker and Wooyoung’s eager expression before reaching out with slow, hesitant fingers.
He takes it delicately, holding it between both hands like it was something precious upon receiving.
The others don't seem to have the heart to take if from the younger, even though they had taught Wooyoung not to give little Yeosang his own snacks, since his younger headspace didn't fully grasp on how to digest something other than bottles and mashed fruits, as they had found out days before.
Seonghwa hummed fondly, watching as Yeosang brings the cracker to his mouth and, rather than taking a proper bite, simply presses it against his lips.
He let it sit there for a moment, his nose scrunching slightly at the new texture before finally giving it a few experimental nibbles.
It is obvious he isn't quite sure what to do with it, his teeth barely making a dent in the salty biscuit, but he makes no move to let go.
Instead, he just sits there, contentedly gnawing at the edges, his eyes soft and unfocused as if the act itself seems to be more soothing than the taste.
San chuckles, gently ruffling Yeosang’s hair. ‘Is it good, baby?’ he coos, voice dripping with fondness.
The little doesn't respond with words, just let out a quiet, happy hum as he continues his slow, mindless munching. The others melt instantly.
‘Sangie cute!’ Wooyoung declares, practically beaming. ‘W-wike a widdle chipmunk!’
Little Sangie shifts his gaze to Wooyoung’s frame, giggling when his older brother makes a silly face to involve him and his non-verbal state somehow.
He sits there in his own little bubble, his fingers curling around the cracker, completely content with just the feeling of it between his lips, warm and safe in the presence of the people who adore him most.
This was one of the sweetest things they had learned in the past month- just how different Wooyoung and Yeosang seem to be in little space, both having their own charms and personalities to grow fond of.
Where Wooyoung loves curling up in someone’s lap, chatting endlessly about the imaginary stories he had made up and beaming the brightest smile when one of them would complement his artsy crafts, Yeosang seemed to be the complete opposite, even more so whenever he would dangle near the edge of babyspace lately.
Their little one doesn’t seem to need emotional stimulation all that much, rather enjoying simple, sensory books or puzzles with two pieces.
He seemed to be just happy to be there, as long as one of his caregivers would be around.
He prefers easier adjustments, low-sensory environments preferably, like lying flat on his back on a soft blanket, his hands resting on his tummy or clamping around the fur, staring up at the ceiling in quiet wonder.
One time they had found the little peeking at his new crinkly book with intrigue, and it nearly sent them over the edge of crying.
The living room had been bathed with pretty fairy lights and a soft glow of outside lightning, the kind that made everything feel safe.
A thick, plush blanket had been spread out on the floor, and right in the center of it was Yeosang, sprawled on his tummy, small and cozy in his onesie.
A tiny, crinkling book rested in front of him, its pages lined with foil that made the softest crackling sound every time his little fingers pressed against it.
Yeosang let out an intrigued little noise, his lips parting as he babbled something completely unintelligible, his voice light and full of amazement.
He pressed the book again- crinkle- then again, his sparkling eyes growing wider every time it made the sound.
His legs kicked gently behind him, pure contentment radiating from his body as he experimented with the sensation.
Wooyoung, sitting cross-legged nearby, rested his chin in his hands, absolutely enraptured.
‘Look at him,’ he whispered.
‘-he’s fascinated.’
Mingi chuckled. ‘He’s like a tiny scientist.’
Jongho smirked. ‘A scientist who likes shiny sounds.’
Yeosang crinkled the page again, his face lighting up, and released the softest, most pleased babble- something close to an oohhh! of wonder.
Yunho, sitting on the couch, watched him with nothing but fondness in his eyes. His heart felt so full it might burst.
-
Yeosang in an even younger headspace than what seemed regular within the first four weeks, has been even cuter.
They all have learned that when he settles in babyspace, he doesn't need toys or distractions at all- just the soft lull of their voices in the background, the cozy weight of a blanket tucked around him, and the slow, rhythmic movement of his own breathing are enough to satisfy his needs.
It was so simple, yet so very Yeosang.
‘He’s like a widdle fish,’ Wooyoung whispered one night, crawling over to lay beside him.
‘A starfish.'
And really, their interactions and their routines in general, is what makes everything so special- the care, the warmth, and the love that holds them all together.
All of them have put effort into learning about Yeosang's preferences- the things he likes to do, to eat, to see or listen to on a daily basis, just like they had done with Wooyoung months before.
It was funny to see how the two littles bonded over time, Wooyoung being the older little who took responsibility in showing Yeosang exactly how things are done- though, the younger only seemed to comprehend small parts of what was being said to him most of the time, eyes round and curious whenever Wooyoung gave him attention while playing with toys or eating together.
While Wooyoung loved surrounding himself with as many toys as possible-especially ones that made music or rattled loudly, usually being referred to as ‘our little artist’ by Hongjoong- Yeosang preferred quiet curiosity, holding onto just one toy at a time, studying it carefully.
The others suspected it had something to do with his ears being extra sensitive, so they always made sure to keep things soft and gentle around him.
And then there were the ways they sought comfort. Wooyoung absolutely lived for being tossed around by Yunho, squealing in delight every time he was scooped up and spun through the air.
The younger has a habit of running around the dorms when excited, making silly faces to whoever he passes or clinging into their necks like a clingy monkey.
It made Wooyoung happiest to be close to his appa- Hongjoong, who he had grown very attached to over time.
And honestly, who could blame him? The older made the best bubble baths, chose the prettiest bandages for his scraped knees and offers the warmest pecks against his temple.
Yeosang, on the other hand, is perfectly content by simply watching from a safe distance when chaos erupted, curled up with a quiet smile, babbling softly to himself as he observed.
The little loved to be tucked between two of his caregivers, simply holding onto the fabric of their clothes rather than being soothed by physical touch.
From what they had seen, Yeosang’s little side was incredibly young- shy, curious, and barely past a year old in headspace.
Wooyoung, still young himself, tended to shift between one to three, which made him just old enough to take pride in being the ‘big brother’.
He loved showing Yeosang all the fun things he had discovered- cartoons, blanket forts, colorbooks and most importantly- snacks.
There had been one thing that kept the caregivers on edge however, and throughout the weeks they started to worry about it more and more.
When Yeosang had first started exploring his little space, all eight of them had sat down together to discuss boundaries, preferences, and anything that would make him feel comfy or uncomfy.
There had been no pressure within their conversations, just a gentle chat to ensure that his regression remained a positive experience.
Yeosang had been clear about certain things, he wasn’t fond of the idea of being bottle-fed, nor did he like the idea of wearing overly babyish clothes, rather wearing soft colored sweaters and comfy joggers when regressed.
They had kept this in mind and let Yeosang pick different outfits that he would like to wear when little, just like the adjustment of experimenting with different foods and flavors.
His caregivers simply followed the lines and shapes of their little sides, making sure to check in with him after a few regressions to see if any adjustments were needed-different foods, different clothes, anything to help him feel secure.
As time passed by and Yeosang didn’t seem to regress to an older headspace than one years old, the topic of diapers naturally became a point of discussion on the list.
Wooyoung, who found great comfort in them, had been open about his own experience when they all sat down, and while it wasn’t something they wanted to push on Yeosang, they had noticed his struggles- small accidents when he couldn’t quite control his bladder, the visible shame that followed and the frustration of being forced to be cared for more than he was willing to yet.
Earlier that month, they had already sat down with him to re-introduce the topic about bottles, because solid foods were really starting to run out of the category ‘realistic options’.
Even though Yeosang had disagreed on being bottle-fed weeks ago, the urgency to get some proper nutrients within his system were worth the effort of discussion.
Regressed Yeosang appeared to love his bottles when they tried this with him for the first time, so the others were confident in attempting to have a talk about diapers, as well.
They had approached it carefully. No one wanted him to feel pressured or uncomfortable, and so, after days of careful discussion, they finally brought it up.
Hongjoong explained what they have noticed about his accidents- how he felt after them and how he had wet the bed more often nowadays, which made the younger understand where they were coming from as caregivers.
Ever since his headspace had become younger than two years old, he couldn’t seem to remember the time spent in his regressed state all that well, which is why it was- and still is important to check-in together.
Yeosang had been hesitant but willing to try, and that was enough for the moment.
At first, it had seemed like any other adjustment, new and unfamiliar, but manageable.
Wooyoung himself had needed a week or two to get used to them back when he first started.
Nothing unexpected.
But weeks passed, and then a month. And then another. And Yeosang’s meltdowns did not lessen in the slightest.
They had tried everything to ease him through it.
Announcing changes in advance, hoping a predictable routine would help- ten minutes, then five, then just before- but the distress only worsened when they would announce this upcoming fact to him.
They had tried to distract the little by singing songs, giving him a toy to play with or reading him a story while one of the other's changed him- it didn’t work.
They had also tried to give him tasks or name him their ‘little helper’, allowing Yeosang to undress himself or involve him in the process, by giving wipes or baby powder.
Little Sangie wouldn’t have been able to hear a word spoken to him- let alone following instructions- with the heavy number of wails and cries throughout his change.
Unfortunately, talking to him seemed to have the opposite effect, and they quickly disposed the whole ‘helping’ situation altogether.
The mere mention of a diaper change could send him to the floor in tears, his delicate hands wiping frantically at his eyes as he shook his head, his lip trembling so hard it looked painful.
His cries were the kind that made stomachs sink- raw, desperate, the kind that spoke of fear rather than simple protest.
And so, they had tried to make him slip into babyspace eventually as one of their last attempts, wondering if his distress would fade if he wouldn’t fully comprehend what was happening and could simply experience the change as a caregiver- and little bonding moment instead.
They were wrong . Boy, were they wrong.
Yeosang had always been mostly unaware of his surroundings in babyspace, his mind slipping into a state where safety and familiarity were all that mattered.
In that headspace, he didn't analyze- he simply felt, responding instinctively to the environment around him.
Which is exactly why they figured he might feel more comfortable with changes this way.
It was only when something in the back of his mind signaled a shift, a change he wasn’t prepared for, that distress would begin to creep in.
It truly happened at the most random moments, therefore they had learned that the little gets distressed when one of his caregivers suddenly leave his line of sight or when a loud noise arises within the dorms.
And usually, they would be able to soothe that side by baby-talking him through that feeling, holding him close or making him laugh.
Diaper changes appeared to be one of those moments where they couldn’t soothe that very same distress.
While he could sometimes be cooperative outside of babyspace, the experience became entirely different when he was fully regressed.
The shift in sensation, the exposure, the unfamiliar movement- it was overwhelming in a way that his little self couldn't process.
Instead of simply fussing, his anxiety escalated into full-blown meltdowns, his reactions heightened by the pure, unfiltered emotions of infancy.
The very act of being handled in a way he didn’t understand only reinforced the discomfort, making it even harder for him to settle.
His responses weren’t about defiance but rather a deep, instinctual panic- his body reacting before his mind could grasp onto the actions happening in front of him.
And in babyspace, where everything was raw and immediate, that fear only amplified when they talked to him with syllables that he couldn’t seem to comprehend, turning what might have been a moment of care into something that felt, to him, like an upheaval of everything safe.
When he regressed to a somewhat older headspace, around one to two years old, the changes didn’t better his mood at all, but at least he could understand their words of affirmation.
The changes themselves were unbearable to witness, and therefore announcing one in the very near future, was too.
A total breakdown- Yeosang wailing, his small body thrashing in an attempt to escape, hands clawing at the mat beneath him, choked sobs breaking through as if the world itself was ending.
Sometimes he’d reach for them, little fingers curling desperately in the fabric of their shirts as if pleading for comfort, only to pull away seconds later, unable to reconcile the touch with the distress.
It hurt. It hurt all of them to see him like that.
They tried shared changes with Wooyoung as one of their last solutions, thinking it might help if Yeosang had someone familiar beside him.
And for a while, it seemed to work- he had giggled, watching Wooyoung with wide, curious eyes, happily sucking on his fingers.
But then it was his turn, and the distress returned tenfold.
Even in his most oblivious headspace, the moment his own pair of joggers were removed, the same heartbreaking sobs wracked his little frame.
Changing Yeosang was something all of them started to dread one way or the other.
Because honestly, no one looks forward to having to deal with his gut-wrenching cries, knowing they couldn’t master the art of soothing him effectively.
It wasn’t easy to hold him down while he kicked and squirmed, either.
Yeosang’s body strength really was no joke, and though he isn’t tall like Yunho or Mingi, his efforts surely behaved like he was.
It was truly upsetting that they didn’t seem to crack the code on why little Yeosang seemed to react so frantically.
It often took two of them- one of his caregivers getting to business quickly while the other stilled his flailing attempts to escape or make his caregiver stop somehow.
Sometimes holding his wrists was enough, and other times they were forced to lean their entire weight against Yeosang’s limbs in order to keep him safe and not being able to hurt others or himself.
And so, after another exhausting week- three meltdowns a day, each one more heart-wrenching as the last- they finally made the decision.
It was time to talk.
Not with little Yeosang, but with big Yeosang.
All eight of them. Together.
Because this wasn’t just difficult. It was painful. And they couldn’t keep putting him through this without understanding why.
When they manage to pick a proper moment, the room was quickly filled with playful banter and day-to-day conversations.
Not tense, not heavy- just easy and lighthearted.
Hongjoong catches everyone’s attention to raise the subject, allowing a soft, expectant silence to enter the ambience that leaves Yeosang shifting uncomfortably where he sits, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
The moment they’d asked him to sit down, all eight of them, he knew this was about him in some way.
However, he still isn’t exactly sure about the reason, which creates this nagging feeling of worry, wondering if he did something wrong or made them uncomfortable.
Seonghwa, as always, is the first to speak after Hongjoong raised attention, his voice gentle and steady.
‘Yeo, we wanted to talk about something important, but I want you to know first that there’s no pressure, okay? You don’t have to explain anything you’re not ready for. We just want to help.’
Yeosang swallows and nods, though he can already sense warmth creeping up his neck. ‘Okay,’ he confirms, barely above a whisper.
‘It’s about diaper changes,’ Hongjoong adds, watching him carefully.
The younger simply blinks as he listens to what is being said, nodding ever so slightly at the introduction of the subject.
‘We’ve noticed that every time we have to change you or bring up the topic to your regressed mind, you have a really bad meltdown.’
Yeosang stiffens, his eyes flicking up in alarm.
‘Meltdown?’ He echoes, his voice tight with embarrassment.
Wooyoung squeezes his hand. ‘Yeo, it’s okay. We just mean that- every time, you get really, really upset. Crying, kicking, trying to get away- like it’s really scary for you.’
‘And it’s not only the change itself- you get really distressed when we announce the diaper change or randomly mention it throughout the day as a part of routine.’ San adds.
Yeosang ducks his head, his cheeks burning. He hates hearing that. Hates knowing that he gets like that, that they had all seen it.
‘I-I don’t remember any of that,’ he mutters, his voice barely audible.
‘We figured,’ Yunho reassures gently. ‘And that’s part of why we wanted to talk to you. Because even if you don’t remember, your body does nonetheless.’
‘And if your little side is that distressed, we are all a little worried that it affects your peaceful state of mind too much for you to use diapers while regressed.’ Hongjoong reasons calmly, brushing a few strands out of his line of sight.
‘We’re bringing this up because we have tried to solve this with little Yeosang on our own first, but none seem to work, and we’re running out of options.’ He adds.
Yeosang hums, processing everything the others are explaining to him for a moment before talking again.
‘So you think- that little me is too distressed about all of this for it to work as it is?’
Seonghwa sighs, nodding his head in silent agreement.
‘Listen darling, I would gladly deal with a hundred more meltdowns and changes if that is what it takes, but not until I know the reason they happen and can confirm it’s safe and not damaging you- and we’re not certain of that fact right now.’
Yeosang only nods, somewhat disappointed to hear it’s really that bad.
‘Do you have any idea why your little side gets so worked up about it? Is it something we do or don’t do that affects this?’
Yeosang chews on the inside of his cheek, gripping the fabric of his sweater as an attempt to ground himself.
‘I don’t- I don’t know,’ he admits, shoulders curling in. ‘It’s uh- it’s not that I don’t feel safe. I do. I know you guys wouldn’t hurt me.’
‘We believe you,’ Seonghwa says softly.
‘But little you doesn’t just react like that for no reason. And that’s what worries me, Yeo. Even if you don’t remember the meltdowns, it means your body still isn’t fully relaxing in little space. You’re carrying something with you, even when you regress, and it’s making these moments really, really hard for you.’
Yeosang swallowed thickly, nodding, but he still wouldn’t look at them. His entire body was tense, and they could all see the way his hands clench in his lap.
Jongho tilted his head slightly. ‘Is the diaper uncomfortable?’
Yeosang shrugs his shoulders. ‘I'm not sure?'
‘Do you feel embarrassed about using them?’ Wooyoung asked, careful.
A longer pause. Then, hesitantly, ‘Maybe a little. But I don't think it would be enough to have a meltdown about, since I uh- use them subconsciously when little.’
San leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. ‘Then what about the actual change? Being undressed, being touched- does that make you uncomfortable?’
Something in Yeosang twitches. His shoulders stiffen as a form of muscle memory, it seems, his fingers clenched tighter, his breathing just a little too shallow.
His lips part slightly, but no sound comes out, like he wants to answer but can’t find the words.
And then it clicks.
Seonghwa’s eyes soften. ‘Yeo,’ he adresses softly, ‘do you think it might have something to do with physical affection?’
The room stills.
‘You do struggle to receive physical affection in general when you’re big,’ Hongjoong hums, voice gentle but considerate.
‘We all know that you aren’t the biggest fan of hugs- you don’t really let people hold you- so maybe when you’re regressed, your body doesn’t know how to handle it?’
Yeosang feels his face burn. He wants to deny it, wants to shake his head and pretend that isn’t it- but he can’t. Because it makes sense.
Too much sense.
His throat tightens. He forces himself to swallow. ‘It could be?’ he nods, his voice barely above a whisper.
‘I don’t- I don’t hate it, but-’ He exhales shakily, his hands trembling in his lap.
‘My body feels tensed when I try to think about the changes non-regressed- but uh-. Like, I want to let it happen, I want to be okay with it, but then when it happens, I- I don’t know. I just feel like I need to get away. But I can’t, and I panic, and then-’
‘And then it becomes too much,’ Yunho finished gently.
Yeosang nodded, pressing his lips together to keep them from wobbling.
There is silence for a moment, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.
Then, Hongjoong reaches over, slow enough that Yeosang can see it coming, and places a warm hand over his own.
‘Thank you for telling us.’ He says simply.
Yeosang inhales shakily.
‘We can work with this.’ San reassures, voice filled with quiet determination.
Hongjoong bites the inside of his cheek as he considers if their discussed suggestion would land well with Yeosang, but decides to ask anyway, since it might actually help to figure out how to solve these meltdowns altogether.
'Yeo, feel free to disagree, it's totally open for us to discuss possibilities, but- would it be an option for you to keep you in the headspace of a three-year-old the next two or three times you regress?’
Yeosang blinks, thinking for a moment before asking a set of questions himself.
‘I- I uh- mean I don’t mind, but I’m not sure you can force my little age that much right? And what would a toddler stage change about all of this?’
Hongjoong hums, smiling when he reaches Yeosang’s eyes.
‘Hmm, you would be able to speak better, ofcourse- which would make it a bit easier to understand your triggers and needs- and we could try to consciously teach you safety, which might make your really tiny headspace feel comfier because of the muscle memory?’
Yeosang hums, considering the option for a second or two.
‘Please know that we do not prefer to force you in a headspace that is older than your mind wants you to be, but it is really only so we can learn to understand you better.’ Seonghwa immediately adds.
After they come to an agreement, they all settle on enjoying their time off for the evening, allowing Yeosang some time to process what is about to happen and for them all to discuss new strategies and possibilities now that they will be able to explain and ask things to his regressed state.
-
It had only been four days before little Yeosang made an appearance again, using their day off to regress and simply enjoy his stress-free mindset.
The other’s had sympathetically held him that morning, taking care of the younger while he naturally settled into babyspace for a while.
They had spoonfed him breakfast before giving him his bottle, played tickle monsters with little Woowie and Sangie, even though the youngest didn’t really understand the game, and they had coddled and wrapped him in a blanket, snuggling close to him while he was still so small.
They all had agreed on adjusting his headspace somewhere near the afternoon, but now that little Sangie was playing so incredibly content on the playmat, tiny socks peeking out of the corner from where San is taking a glance from the kitchen, it seems to be nearly impossible to get over the ache of getting him out of that cozy mindset.
They have to though, so, instead of procrastinating, San decides to take the lead and catch little Sangie’s attention, wide, curious eyes glancing back at him when he rolls onto his back, beaming a smile of recognition when he senses the other hovering over his frame.
‘Hi little star, guess it’s time to come out of babyspace, hmm?’ He hums, smiling sweetly when he takes hold of his pacifier that had been cozily tucked between the younger’s lips, suckling on it while exploring his little crinkled book.
The action makes Yeosang’s lips release a confused squeek, forehead creasing from the sudden loss of comfort and eyeing San, offering him a sad hiccup.
Before the younger gets the chance to have a full meltdown, San has already taken him into his arms, cradling his tiny frame into his and bouncing him a little from left to right to soothe his sadness.
‘I know darling- hyungie doesn’t like to do this, too.’ He pouts, pecking Yeosang’s forehead as they settle on the couch while the other’s silently watch the scene.
‘Now, appa is going to talk to you a lot, Sangie. It will make most of the fuzziness disappear.’ San explains patiently, telling a story about what he is planning on doing when they get a week off soon, gradually receiving more and more responses from the younger.
A little while later, little Sangie is contently watching a cartoon on San’s lap, head facing sideways while his cheek is resting against his caregiver’s steady heartbeat, a stuffie tucked between his chest and chin as the others have gotten comfortable around them, too.
The little hasn’t spoken a lot since the increase in age yet, but they knew the attempt had been successful once that dazed glint had disappeared from his eyes, following the cartoon intently.
It’s only when Yeosang whimpers slightly after an hour of content silence, that San’s focus shifts to him again instead of his phone in front of him.
When they lock eyes, Yeosang’s lip wobbles vividly, his orbs expressing nothing but utter misery upon glancing at them.
And then, his waterworks overflow before the other can grasp onto any signals.
For a moment, San is lost in translation as he continues to glance at the distressed little who can’t seem to find relief in the older’s fingers caressing his back carefully.
That is, until he feels the bulge of Yeosang’s diaper increasing against his lap and he finally understands what’s going on.
He sighs a breath of relief, grateful that Sangie is not in danger or pain- just discomfort.
‘Ohh, sweetheart- no, that’s totally okay flower- don't cry.’ San shushes, cradling little Sangie into his arms and against his chest a bit better to comfort him while he restlessly continues to cry.
‘Wait, what happened?’ Six pairs of eyes glances at their direction, entirely confused since Yeosang was fine minutes before.
So much for Yeosang’s so-called ‘not minding wetting himself’ part.
San doesn’t want to spook the little even more than he already is, knowing how sensitive he gets about this, so he nods downward as a hint, and several sounds of understanding follow.
‘Yeosangie-’ San murmurs gently, adjusting his hold. ‘Let’s go get you changed, okay, baby?’
The shift is immediate.
Yeosang’s whole body stiffens like a startled deer, fingers clenching into his sweater.
‘N-no,’ he whispers, barely audible. Then, more frantic. ‘No, n-no- don’t w-wanna, don’t wanna!’
Before San manages to even stand up properly, Yeosang has already started squirming within his arms, hands pushing weakly against his chest, legs kicking just enough to show distress but not enough to break free from his hold.
His breath hitches as tears well in his big, round eyes.
‘Sangie d-don’t like!’ he cries, voice trembling. ‘D-don’t wanna, d-don’t wanna- a-appa!’ Yeosang has begun to full on wail now, shaking his head in refusal when San doesn’t seem to plan on sitting again and instead only steps further away from the living room area.
‘Shh, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay-’
But Yeosang isn’t listening anymore. His hands curl into fists, his face scrunches up in distress, and then the sobs come- deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shake his frame.
He curles into himself, shuddering like just the thought of it was too much to handle.
San freezes, unsure of what to do for a second, glancing at the others who can only release sighs of sympathy.
‘Yeosangie, baby, I promise it'll be quick,’ he soothes, but the younger seems to be beyond comfort.
The very idea of being taken to be changed sends him spiraling, and the more the other tries to calm him, the more he cries.
‘Hyung, can you tag along?’ San briefly asks to Yunho, already walking through the door, reaching upstairs where they usually change little Wooyoung and Yeosang to create predictability.
San isn’t exactly sure that predictability is a positive trait now, since Yeosang only seems to wiggle more upon recognizing the route.
‘Shh, darling, appa will be as quick as lightning.’ He hums, settling the mat on the ground for safety, since it hasn’t been the first time little Sangie tried to roll of the mat in protest.
With two men strong, they manage to ease little Sangie on the mat without too much of a struggle.
Yunho restricts his wrists gently when he tries to take hold of the pack of wipes beside him, and San hums a lullaby to soothe his distress, failing evidently when Yeosang seems to comprehend that he won’t be getting away from this.
‘N-no Sangie don’t like-’ He starts to scream when San lowers his joggers, roaming around the tapes of the diaper, vividly kicking his feet against the floor.
San is quick, as promised, but it still takes a lot from Yunho and his strength to hold him still, frequently pecking the little’s temple and nose when a fresh set of tears drags along his cheeks.
‘Appa feels sorry, flower. I wish you would tell me what’s making you this upset, hmm?’ He mumbles, wiping the younger while Yunho holds him down by a steady hand on his tummy.
‘A-appa no wipe, no! No- n-no. Appa done- appa d-done now.’ Yeosang wails, raising his hips from the mat in an attempt to stop his hyungie and doing it again when he notices that it delays San’s actions.
‘Let’s count to three, and then appa is done, sweetheart.’ It takes a bit more convincing, but the younger eventually allows San to finish his task through more tears, but no flailing limbs.
When San’s counting is done, he swiftly pulls a diaper from the container and eases it underneath the little’s bum, exhaling relief upon taping him up again and dressing him in his set of joggers.
‘Darling, can you tell appa what you don’t like about changes?’ San tries, wondering if the little would simply tell him the truth if he asked patiently.
‘A-appa hold Sangie.’ Yeosang hiccups, trying to cling to the other even though he is still being held against the mat- and actively ignoring the question.
San glances at Yunho, sharing the same thought.
This is going to be even more of a challenge than they thought it would be.
‘There, all done now, sugar.’ San smiles, cooing as Yeosang immediately lifts himself from the mat to latch himself onto him, sniffling slightly in the crook of his neck and allowing himself to be soothed for several long minutes before he is ready to go play again, but only if San stays near the tower of blocks, demanding his caregiver’s presence by the hold of their hands.
-
The second time they have to change him, he is playing on the floor with Wooyoung, stacking blocks while Yunho watches over them that evening, glancing at the clock to see how much time has already passed- quickly coming up with a simple dinner for the two littles.
Yeosang has been perfectly fine, even giggling when Wooyoung knocked over the tower with an excited ‘Boom!’
But then, Yunho speaks.
‘Alright, little ones,’ he announces, standing up with a stretch. ‘Time to get fresh diapers, then we can eat fried chi-’
Yeosang freezes mid-reach for another block. His breath hitches. The bright joy in his eyes flickers out, replaced with sheer panic.
‘N-no daddy-’ The little’s lip wobbles, eyeing Yunho pleadingly.
It’s when Yunho doesn’t seem to break character and will probably follow through, that his waterworks break.
‘Wha-why Sangie crying?’ Wooyoung blinked up at him, his little voice confused as Yeosang suddenly shoves the blocks away, curling into himself, his entire mood crumbled upon hearing Yunho’s announcement.
His lip continues to wobble, hands gripping the hem of his sweater.
‘No, no- daddy no want to-!’ Yeosang mumbles, shaking his head violently. ‘No change, n-no change-don’t wanna!’ His fists press against his teary eyes, breath hitching in short, panicked gasps.
Yunho’s heart clenches at the sight. ‘Oh, baby, it’s okay, I wasn’t-’
But Yeosang is already gone, lost in a wave of overwhelming distress, curling up into himself as his sobs broke the air.
Wooyoung, still sitting beside him, tilted his head. ‘But 's okay,’ he murmurs, blinking up at Yunho in confusion. ‘Not bad.’
‘I know, baby,’ Yunho sighs, reaching out but stopping when Yeosang flinches away.
His little body trembles as he shakes his head over and over, soft cries of ‘don’t wanna, don’t wanna, please, please no.’ spilling from his lips like a broken record.
The whole route upstairs is a drama of flailing limbs and Yeosang making himself heavier in the older’s hold to get out of his grip, which, unsurprisingly, doesn’t work.
Wooyoung follows behind, lip wobbling a little from the intensity of his brother’s breakdown as his subconsciousness catches the unsafety and panic radiating from his friend.
Hongjoong coincidently finds them in the hallway upon finishing his shower, and coos when he senses little Wooyoung shuffling after them, clearly upset and distraught.
The leader immediately catches onto the subtle signs of Wooyoung’s regressed state- the fumbling with his sleeves, the shuffling from left to right-
Wooyoung is slipping into a younger headspace. And so, he makes quick work of scooping him into his own arms, shushing the younger as he eases into his arms.
‘Shh love, it’s okay- Sangie thinks changes are a bit scary, but let’s show him how brave our little Woowie is, hmm?’ He smiles, cradling him into his arms as he carries him into their room to wait for his turn.
‘W-woowie want a-appa-’
‘N-no like Sangie’s cries.’ He sniffles, tucking his head in his appa’s neck.
The second Yunho lays Yeosang down to change him, it is like setting off a bomb.
Yeosang screams- loud, desperate- and wholly panicked. Just like he had done many times before.
‘Sangie don’t l-like!’ he shrieks, his voice cracking with sheer distress. His little legs kicked wildly, his arms flailing, his whole body thrashing so hard that he almost flips himself over.
Hongjoong barely catches him in time next to Yunho, who mindlessly turned a quarter to collect the wipes and baby powder.
The older steadies the little on the mat with a hand on his tummy.
‘Yun, please don’t turn away from him, you know how he gets.’ Hongjoong warns strictly, but eases his gaze when he sees how guilty Yunho seems about this whole situation.
Especially upon seeing how affected Wooyoung gets by Yeosang’s meltdown.
‘Baby, baby, shh, I promise it’s okay-’ Hongjoong shushes little Sangie, while still holding Wooyoung steadily in his arms.
‘N-nooo- noo!’ Yeosang howls, tears spilling down his cheeks, reaching for Joong when he registers the change of person in front of him.
When Yunho untapes his diaper and throws it in the bin next to him, little Sangie exhales the loudest scream he can manage to blurt out, his little face all red and soaked with tears.
‘Yunho, get Wooyoung out of here, I’ll deal with Sang.’ Hongjoong is quick to instruct when he feels the tears soaking his sweater from where the other little seems to be really bothered by the distress filling the once gentle ambience.
It’s then that Hongjoong interferes, frowning from not only the loud noise bleeding into his ear, but also the intensity of Yeosang’s meltdown.
He quickly reaches for the younger and lifts him from the mat, holding him tightly against his chest, shushing him while bouncing him carefully.
He is happy to find Yeosang’s breath calming down slightly at the intimacy and calmness of the moment, even if it’s not much.
‘Jesus Sangie- you scared me a little with your wails, darling.’ Hongjoong hums, resting his lips against the crook of the little’s ear, simply rocking them from left to right in a steady pace.
Hongjoong cradles him for a few minutes while Wooyoung gets changed in another room instead, from the happy giggles he registers down the hallway.
Yeosang hiccups every now and then, but other than that he rests completely limp against his chest.
It’s then that Yunho returns to the room with a snuggly Wooyoung, tucked into his neck and contently sucking on a pacifier.
‘You should change your shirt after this, hyung- I didn’t even get the chance to wipe him before you got a hold of him.’ The younger mentions upon noticing that Hongjoong- out of pure despair- had just taken a hold of the little as he was.
Hongjoong can only hum, caressing the little’s back with his fingertips as Yeosang seems to fall asleep from the exhaustion sucked out of the whole commotion.
‘Hmm, I will- I couldn’t care less about that right now, though. I’m glad he isn’t screaming our ears off anymore.’ He sighs.
When Wooyoung is up and running, tagging Yunho along, probably to his new set of crayons, Hongjoong eases the younger onto the mat again, hoping the younger wouldn’t budge that much now that the light has almost turned off.
‘N-no, p-please, don’t wanna!’ His tiny hands pushed at Hongjoong’s chest, fingers desperately grabbing at anything- his own shirt, Hongjoong’s wrist, anything to escape.
And then, he rolls again.
‘Kang Yeosang!’ Hongjoong yelps, scrambling to catch him mid-roll. His heart nearly stops.
But Yeosang is completely lost in his meltdown now, screaming at the top of his lungs again, arms flailing so hard that Hongjoong can barely hold onto him.
‘San, help please!’ Hongjoong gasps, waving a hurried arm his way when he notices the other busying himself near the hallway, freshly showered and glancing at them with worry.
‘Got him,’ San murmurs, gently but firmly holding Yeosang’s arms down. ‘Shhh, baby, I know, I know.’
But it doesn’t help.
If anything, it makes Yeosang fight harder.
He screams so loud that it physically hurts.
His little legs kick like a wild animal, his cries turn into hysterical, hiccupy wails.
His fingers curl into desperate fists, his face flushed and his sobs release themselves into broken, gasping breaths.
‘Please, p-please, Sangie no c-change-’
Hongjoong feels his heart shatter.
But they have to finish.
‘San, hold his legs still,’ he mumbles, hating himself for it, but Yeosang won’t stop thrashing.
San swallows hard but does as he is told, carefully but firmly holding Yeosang’s wiggling legs still.
And Yeosang loses it.
His little chest heaves, his entire tiny body shaking as he wails louder than ever.
‘Can you grab a washcloth from the bathroom, Sannie? Run it down with lukewarm water a little.’ Hongjoong asks, instantly hovering over the younger when San releases his grip on him, holding him tightly himself.
It takes underneath a minute for the other to return.
‘Here you go, hyung- but what is it fo-’ Before San can finish his question, he already hums in understanding when observing Hongjoong’s careful hands.
It’s not like Hongjoong’s decision to replace babywipes with a washcloth is creating miracles for Yeosang’s bashful cries, but he doesn’t seem to increase the intensity of his meltdown as well, which is kind of a win.
By the time they are done, Hongjoong feels like he has run a marathon.
Yeosang?
He is completely wrecked.
His body is still hiccupping with sobs, tears soaking his soft cheeks as he curls into Hongjoong’s chest, shaking.
His small hands clutch onto Hongjoong’s sweater like his life depends on it.
‘Sangie d-don’t like-’ he whimpers weakly, barely able to get the words out between hiccups.
‘I know, baby,’ Hongjoong whispers, rubbing his back. ‘I know.’
And it was awful.
Because they still didn’t know how to help.
That is, until Seonghwa figured it out.
-
Yeosang’s quiet sniffles already started to turn into hiccupping sobs, his hands curling into fists as he kicks out weakly against the changing mat.
The distress was so familiar now that Seonghwa’s heart ached before his mind could even form a solution.
‘Shh, sweetheart, you’re okay,’ Seonghwa murmurs, resting a hand over Yeosang’s bare stomach, but the younger only releases a sharp, broken wail.
His body tenses, overwhelmed, too deep in his headspace to soothe himself.
Seonghwa bites his lip, thinking fast. The tears aren’t from pain- they are from helplessness, the sensation of being exposed, handled, and out of control.
Then, on instinct, Seonghwa scoops Yeosang up against his chest, cradling him close.
His palm gently slides up and down Yeosang’s back, following the natural curve of his spine.
‘Breathe with me, love,’ he whispers, feeling the erratic rhythm of his tiny gasps against his collarbone.
At first, the sobs don’t seem to stop, but then, his fingers find the soft dip between Yeosang’s shoulder blades, rubbing slow, reassuring circles underneath his onesie.
The reaction is almost immediate. Yeosang let out a shaky breath, his body slumping slightly in Seonghwa’s hold.
‘Oh?’ Seonghwa hums, pausing for only a second before repeating the motion.
The more he traces those soothing patterns, the more Yeosang melts into him, his cries quieting into soft, tired hiccups.
‘M-mama- mam-ma.’ Yeosang releases whimpers of broken pleas, trying to keep his neck upright to be able to see his mama at all costs.
Seonghwa coos, barely containing his relief. He continues the gentle strokes, expanding to rub along Yeosang’s arms, his fingers, then his legs.
Each touch is deliberate, steady- grounding.
‘There we go, baby,’ Seonghwa coos, adjusting his hold so Yeosang can stay curled against him.
‘You just need a little extra comfort from mama, huh?’
Yeosang buries his face into Seonghwa’s neck, another small whimper slipping from his lips, but it was no longer distressed- just exhausted.
He sighs, completely pliant in Seonghwa’s arms.
‘That’s it,’ Seonghwa chuckles softly, brushing a kiss against Yeosang’s temple.
‘We’ll do it like this from now on, okay? No more unnecessary meltdowns, I promise.’
Even without words, Yeosang’s grip on Seonghwa’s shirt is confirmation enough.
-
The afternoon sun drapes golden light across the wooden porch two days later, pooling warmth beneath Yeosang’s little frame.
A gentle breeze ruffles his soft brown hair, tickling at the nape of his neck, but he is far too absorbed in his fantasy world to notice.
He is safe here. Wrapped in his own little world, knees pressed to the warm wood.
His tiny fingers, still soft in the way his hands always were, grip the truck tightly, pushing it forward, then back.
He giggles when the wheels of the truck seem to glow underneath the sunlight shining on them.
The soft denim of his blue overalls crinkle slightly with each movement, his striped shirt peeking out from underneath.
His tiny socks brush against the floor, his small hands gripping the truck tightly as he makes tiny "vroom vroom" noises.
Seonghwa- or mama- as little Sangie likes to call him- sits nearby, keeping a gentle watch over him.
There is something so sweet about Yeosang like this, completely at ease, caught up in the simplest of joys.
His lips appear to be slightly parted in focus, his delicate eyelashes casting faint shadows across his cheeks. Completely unguarded.
His little one is so absorbed, so focused, eyebrows slightly furrowed as if every detailed movement of his toy matters.
Seonghwa’s heart melts.
Today is meant to be a special bonding day- just the two of them. No distractions, no distress.
And he knows how hard it is for Yeosang to handle transitions, how shifting from one activity to another can make him feel overwhelmed before he even has time to process it.
He has seen it happening throughout the weeks passing by.
So instead of warning him too much in advance- instead of letting that panic build, Seonghwa simply acts.
In one smooth, careful motion, he scoops Yeosang from the ground.
The reaction is instant.
Yeosang releases a startled cry, arms flailing, tiny fingers desperately gripping onto Seonghwa’s shirt while his other hand reaches for the abandoned truck ditching some sand on the pavement from the sudden movement.
When the older carries Yeosang upstairs, he can do nothing but squirm and whine in his arms, softly kicking his socked feet out of protest against Seonghwa’s sides while he cries.
‘M-Mama- S-Sangie not w-wet!’
His hands clutch onto Seonghwa’s shirt, weak, pleading, his soft belly rising and falling in uneven hiccups.
Big, glossy eyes look up at him, teary and confused.
His voice hitches, panicked gasps escaping between soft hiccups.
‘No change! No, no- p-please, Mama- Sangie good, Sangie not wet!’
Why won’t his mama believe him?
Seonghwa only shushes him gently, swaying with him as he walks, kissing the crown of his head.
‘Shhh, my love. I know, baby. I know you’re not wet. I’m not changing you, I promise.’
His words come softer than a lullaby, slipping between gentle kisses to Yeosang’s damp cheeks.
One. Then another. Then one more.
The words soften Yeosang’s sobs just a little, but the panic still clings to him. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what is happening.
By the time they reach the bedroom, Yeosang is still hiccuping, but the fight seems to have been drained from his tiny limbs.
He still grips onto Seonghwa’s shirt tightly, fingers clinging onto his shirt like a lifeline.
Seonghwa lowers himself onto the plush towels he had prepared earlier, keeping Yeosang cradled in his lap.
And for the first time, he finally gets a proper look at what Yeosang is wearing.
His heart squeezes.
Peeking underneath the striped shirt, his little one appears to wear a beige bodysuit-soft, sweet, decorated with tiny puppies all over it.
A small, breathy chuckle escapes Seonghwa’s lips.
‘Oh, baby. Did Yunho dress you this morning?’
Yeosang blinks up at him, still teary, and his little fingers twitches, rubbing at Seonghwa’s shirt like he is trying to ground himself.
Seonghwa cups his cheek gently, swiping away a tear.
‘Of course he did,’ he coos, pressing another tiny kiss to Yeosang’s forehead.
‘No wonder you look extra adorable today.’
But even soft, loving words can’t keep the uncertainty from Yeosang’s frame of mind.
He continues to feel unsure, clinging to Seonghwa like he doesn’t fully trust the moment yet.
So Seonghwa starts slowly.
His fingers find the metal buckles of the overalls first, popping them open with gentle clicks.
Click.
Click.
Yeosang flinches slightly, toes curling inside his socks.
Seonghwa doesn’t rush.
He slips the overalls down gently, letting the soft denim pool around his ankles before helping the younger out of them, leaving his striped shirt and puppy-covered bodysuit fully visible.
Seonghwa smiles softly, pressing a quick kiss to Yeosang’s cheek before helping the little out of his striped shirt, moving to his tiny socks right after.
One slow tug. Then another.
The moment his bare toes wiggle freely, Yeosang lets out a small, content sigh.
Now, all that is left are his bodysuit and diaper.
Careful, gentle hands find the three little buttons at the bottom of the bodysuit- right at the center of his diaper.
Pop.
Yeosang lets out the smallest whimper.
Pop.
His soft fingers clench into weak fists beside him.
Pop.
His lower lip wobbles.
‘Mama...?’ His voice is wavering, unsure.
‘I know, baby.’ Seonghwa cups his cheek, thumb stroking over the softest part of it.
‘You’re okay.’
The fabric peels up slowly, over his tummy, over his arms, until finally- it is off and put neatly aside near the bed.
And now- just his diaper.
Seonghwa hesitates for only a second before untaping it carefully.
The younger flinches against Seonghwa’s touch, wavering his fingers near his mama’s wrist in a silent warning, feeling the panic flaring up.
And then, against all Yeosang’s expectations, nothing happens.
There is no new one in sight.
He isn’t going to get changed, just like mama had promised.
No pressure. No rush.
Just warm hands smoothing over his tiny belly.
That’s when Yeosang’s whole body finally melts.
But just as Seonghwa moves to lay him down carefully, Yeosang startles from the suddenness.
The soft material of the towels and being eased downwards spooked him a little in his current state of regression, and he flares his arms to seek for his mama’s arms.
When he can’t find a steady grip, his eyes going wide, legs kicking weakly as a sharp, startled whimper left his lips.
‘M-mama-’
Seonghwa is already there, hovering over his frame and shushing him like second nature.
One warm, steady hand presses against his tummy, keeping him grounded and lowering him onto the towels wholly.
‘Shh, baby,’ he coos, voice like silk. ‘I’ve got you, lovebug. Just lay back for me, hmm? I won’t let you go.’
His thumb brushed soothing circles into Yeosang’s belly, and just like that- his little one settles.
Yeosang hadn’t even realized how much tension he was holding until it was gone.
And then, warm hands find him again.
Soft, sweet-smelling oil kissed his skin as Seonghwa begins to massage him, fingers gliding in slow, careful circles down his arms.
He carefully reaches for both sides of his shoulders, working magic with soft pressure against the tip of his thumbs, massaging warmth into Yeosang’s soft, bare skin.
His fingers run along the little’s delicate fingers, coaxing all the tension out of Yeosang’s body.
His fingers twitch, then curl into Seonghwa’s own.
It was instinctive, like holding hands.
Seonghwa feels his heart melt.
His baby is gone now- lost in the soft warmth of little space.
To make it even softer, Seonghwa reaches over and flips on the star projector.
And just like that, the room transforms.
Soft purples and blues stretch across the walls, slow-moving galaxies swirling in the dim light.
‘That’s it, darling.’
Yeosang’s small, sleepy eyes blink once. Then twice. Then his mouth falls open slightly in wonder.
His delicate fingers reach up, chasing the stars.
And then, he releases a happy, babbling giggle.
Soft and sweet and completely nonsensical.
Seonghwa laughs quietly. Little Sangie appears to not even be in full words anymore.
His small self had completely taken over.
And so, Seonghwa continues where he had left his hands, roaming around his hands as he soothes the oil into his skin.
They knead gently at his wrists, thumbs pressing small circles at the pulse points before coaxing each finger into a slow, careful stretch.
A final pass with the flats of their palms left warmth behind that makes Yeosang glance into his orbs with silent intrigue.
The touch softens as he moves to the legs, palms gliding down his outer thighs in long, steady strokes of warmed oil against his baby-smooth skin.
Thumbs press gently into the muscle, coaxing out the stiffness with small, circular motions before sliding over the skin again.
He then moves to Sangie’s tummy, applying some more oil onto his hands that he carefully warms between his palms, before dripping some onto his skin.
Yeosang seems to like the new sensation on his tummy and reaches a hand to it in order to feel this miraculous, golden fluid himself.
Seonghwa softly chuckles and caresses his hand back to the towel, knowing the little was likely to try eating it once his fingers would be in reach.
He follows the pattern of digestive movement as he repeats the action of sliding his hands across his stomach slowly, caressing his skin and circling around his belly button, before pecking Yeosang’s nose and brushing his cheeks with the remnants of massage oil.
Yeosang rests boneless on the towels, his breath coming in slow, sleepy little puffs.
His tiny hands twitch, and when Seonghwa presses his thumbs into his soft palms as a form of reassurance, he lets out a breathy whimper, the sound so sweet and instinctive it makes Seonghwa’s heart ache.
But just as the older is about to press another soft kiss to his baby’s cheek-
The door creaks open.
A small shift in air. A shadow moving across the starlit wall.
‘Oh-’
Yunho freezes in the doorway, wide-eyed.
For a moment, he just stares, gaze flitting between Seonghwa’s careful hands, the plush towels, the way Yeosang seems to be completely, utterly relaxed beneath them.
And then- his whole face softens.
‘Oh my god,’ he whispers, hand pressed to his chest. ‘He looks so relaxed.’
Seonghwa glances down at Yeosang then, really looking at him.
His tiny self is so still, so peaceful- cheeks round and warm, lips slightly parted, eyes glossy but unfocused, as if he were floating somewhere between sleep and stardust.
The baby softness of it all catches Seonghwa off guard.
This isn’t just a moment of comfort.
This is a breakthrough.
And then- Yeosang’s lashes flutter.
His sleepy gaze shifts slightly, landing on Yunho for the first time.
And the second he sees him-
He squeaks.
A small, breathy, high-pitched squeak of recognition, followed by a soft, delighted kick of his legs.
And then, the brabbles start.
Nonsensical sounds tumble from his lips, his fingers flexing in the air as if he is reaching for Yunho- though his limbs are far too relaxed to fully move and reach his destination.
Yunho releases a quiet chuckle, stepping inside properly now, crouching beside the towels.
‘Oh, baby,’ he coos, voice hushed but warm with fondness. ‘What are you saying, huh? You having a good time with mama?’
Yeosang just babbles nonsense at him, completely lost in little space, his cheeks pink, his body loose and soft and trusting.
Yunho grins, glancing up at Seonghwa.
Then he mentions, in a quieter voice, just for the older to hear-
‘This was a good idea.’
Seonghwa blinks.
Yunho’s eyes flicker over Yeosang’s completely relaxed frame, the way he doesn’t seem to be holding any tension anymore, isn’t curling into himself, isn’t fighting his own vulnerability.
‘Hmm?’
And then, softly-
‘The massage.’ Yunho smiles, rubbing the back of his neck.
‘Body to body. Just on full trust.’
Seonghwa smiles, nodding his head in agreement while he caresses Yeosang’s fingers in his.
‘You might not even realize it yet, but this is gonna help him, hyung.’ Yunho glances back at Yeosang, voice still quiet.
‘The intimacy of this, the trust of it- this might make him feel safer in his body. Less tense. Less scared to let go.’
It was true. He had hesitated.
At first, the thought of massaging Yeosang this way- so vulnerable, so open- had felt uncertain. Would it feel weird for them later? Would it cross any lines?
But now, seeing the way Yeosang looks?
Seeing the way his tiny self has completely melted into it, completely relaxed in the safety of Seonghwa’s hands-
He knew.
This was right. This was what they both needed.
And as Yeosang finally drifts off into the softest nap, curled against the warmth of the towels, Seonghwa knows one thing for certain.
He would do this for him again and again.
Because this is love. This is trust .
And that? That is everything.
-
The room was still bathed in that soft glow of the evening, golden light slipping through the curtains, stretching across the blankets.
Seonghwa sits on the edge of the bed, watching as Yeosang stirrs slowly, his breath still deep, his movements still sleep-heavy and warm.
And then, with a tiny sigh, his lashes flutter open.
For a moment, Yeosang just blinks, eyes adjusting to the light, body still wrapped in the warmth of sleep.
Seonghwa smiles softly.
‘Good evening, baby.’
Yeosang hums, voice thick with sleep.
And then, his brows furrow slightly.
Something seems to feel- different.
Not bad. Just- different.
His body is loose, well-rested, but there appears to be something else- a warmth still lingering in his chest, something soft but unfamiliar.
It isn’t until his eyes fully focus on Seonghwa- on the way he is looking at him, so patient, so knowing- that it clicks.
And the moment it does-
Yeosang’s face turns pink.
His fingers grip the blankets tightly, turning his face a fraction away, as if that could somehow hide the growing warmth spreading across his cheeks.
Seonghwa releases a soft chuckle.
‘You remember, don’t you?’
Yeosang swallows.
His voice is still groggy and quiet, but his answer is so soft, so shy-
‘...Yeah.’
Seonghwa smiles. Not teasing. Not pushing. Just warm.
‘How do you feel about it?’
Yeosang bites his lip, hesitating for a moment.
He doesn’t know how to put it into words.
There is still a part of him that feels bashful, a little flustered at the memory of how small he had been, how utterly vulnerable.
But there is another part, a much bigger part, that feels safe, that feels warm, that feels… cared for.
So, after a moment, he peeks up at Seonghwa through his lashes, and smiles.
Soft. Small. Real.
‘I… I liked it.’
Seonghwa feels his chest squeeze with relief, and delight.
Yeosang is still pink, still half-hiding behind the blankets, but he isn’t avoiding the conversation.
That is a big step forward.
Gently, Seonghwa reaches over, brushing his fingers through Yeosang’s hair, the touch so light, so familiar.
‘Nothing felt weird? Or too much?’
Yeosang shakes his head.
‘No.’ His voice is quieter now, but there is certainty in it. ‘It was… it was nice.’
And then, almost hesitantly-
‘It made me feel… safe.’
Seonghwa’s heart rises in his chest at that.
His hand slips from Yeosang’s hair to his cheek, thumb stroking gently.
‘That’s all I ever want, you know. For you to feel safe.’
Yeosang nods, his fingers relaxing around the blankets.
And then, after a moment, after a small hesitation, after the warmth in his cheeks had settled just enough-
He glances at Seonghwa, voice quiet but hopeful.
‘Can we… do that again sometime? When I’m little?’
Seonghwa’s breath catches.
Not because he is surprised, but because of how much trust was packed into that one simple request.
And so, he smiles, nodding.
‘Of course we can, baby. Anytime you want.’
Yeosang bit his lip, but his smile only grew.
‘I think it helps with the whole nappy thing, too.’ Yeosang mumbles, nodding.
And as he lets out a tiny, happy exhale, curling slightly into Seonghwa’s touch, he knows.
This is something special.
Something just for them.
A gigantic step in the right direction.
And he is so, so glad.