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Maybe Chan should have taken Minho’s uncertainty about him sleeping alone for the first time in a few weeks.
It started when he began getting nightmares again on a random night, which progressed to him taking his bunny and blanket with him into Minho’s room, crawling into the bed, curling close to him to feel safe.
Chan thought it would be just three times and done, but he was so wrong.
It was reoccurring; a single night he had them didn’t give an empty bed for Minho; sometimes he would wake up to Chan’s crying, but he didn’t ever budge or say what the dream was about when the caregiver was worried.
Instead, Minho would whisper softly to him, trying to calm him to sleep, but he would be wide awake still by the time the older fell asleep himself, just closing his eyes and fidgeting with his bunny softly.
It’s dark now when Chan wakes up panting from a nightmare and a loud sound of thunder outside the house besides the small Pokémon lamp on his nightstand that Minho found him at a local thrift store a few weeks ago to cheer him up after the older opened his home to take care of him when Chan’s past carer told him he couldn’t anymore in a voicemail.
Told Minho he signed the papers to Minho for full registration and the right to care for Chan to make the little hold as he was forced to knock on the door in the pouring rain, and never looked back at him when they left.
Chan was broken; he was constantly quiet for the weeks that passed until he warmed up to Minho gently, but some days were still feeling as if it was the first day all over again.
The little wouldn’t really make a sound; he would do anything Minho told him to do to be good and stay out of the caregiver’s way, but he wouldn’t be the Chan Minho grew fond of when his friend would bring him with him when they hung out because he couldn't always find someone to care for him when he wanted to go out with friends.
Minho was angry his friend gave up on Chan so easily, treating him as if he was just something simple to throw out and leave behind.
He couldn’t phantom ever allowing them near or even talking to them ever again, so angry about leaving him with a little who believed he did something wrong to be left and given to someone else for care and trust them almost blindly.
It’s storming, Chan realizes now, that’s what must’ve woken him up. He whimpers as he clutches his bunny close and his blanket near his face under his chin when a bright flash followed by a big boom welcomes themselves into his bedroom.
He’s playing with the material, feeding it through his fingers in a sort of stimulating gesture to prove to Minho and not bother him anymore as he has been for the last weeks about these nightmares that won’t quit.
He’s been living with Minho as his new carer for almost six months now, and he doesn’t know how to feel still, it all feels so new still.
Chan wants to trust Minho more than he began to back in his caregiver’s care, but some part of him can’t with the feeling that his caregiver will walk through the door suddenly, seeing him adjusting with someone else as his caregiver and being angry.
A fear creeps up his spine thinking about what his caregiver would do if he grew more comfortable with Minho. Thinking they would try to do something to Minho; get scary like they used to be to him, get legal people involved, maybe hurt him, maybe just abandon Chan overall and never come back.
He doesn’t want Minho hurt; he doesn’t want to be or feel like the reason, even when he would be either way
He can’t fall asleep; he tries with the rain hitting his window, but every moment his body slows down and finally falls into his dreamland, a loud noise of thunder stumbles him back, makes his heart race, and makes his breathing all funny.
When he tries a few more times, so close every time, the last time with the light still on makes the electricity go out, and he can feel the way sickness brews in his stomach like the icky coffee Minho makes every morning while making Chan and him breakfast.
He holds his bunny tightly with shaking fingers, trying to remember how he used to calm himself before, back in his room when he was an actual kid rather than a grown man in a classified little’s body, and he would already know his younger brother would be crawled into bed with his parents taking all the leftover space and refused to sleep on the edge of the bed like a dog.
Chan doesn’t want to take Minho’s leftover space or sleep even on the foot of his bed to not be an inconvenience; that’s the only time he’s away from the reminder of what he has to wake up to every morning, a little his friend didn’t want anymore.
He remembers the words he heard from Minho when he came to visit with his ex-caregiver and he was playing alone in the living room a few weeks before he was abandoned, that he wasn’t ready to take in a little, that he needed time to decide if that was what he wanted and he could mentally do it.
Maybe he wasn’t still ready when Chan was just dropped off with the documents in his hand that weren’t occupied with his bunny and his bags packed by his feet with all his clothes and items he ever had.
All his Pokémon collections he worked so hard for with his chore money stuffed into a bag probably uncared for, bending, and getting wet from the rain starting to hit Chan from the lack of a covered porch, everything packed like he was just a roommate that didn’t work out or forgot to pay rent.
He can’t help the tears burning in his eyes as he slides his legs to his chest, cushioned by his bunny as the thunder still comes, and he even counts how far they are apart from the lightning, losing his count every time because it’s so hard to tell when it starts because it makes him jump.
Usually, Minho would be here with him by now when a storm comes, knowing how much he hates them, but Chan knows how the caregiver sleeps from how terrified he was to wake up in the same dream again after he left to go to his own bed, and he went to try and wake him up and he never did.
He sleeps deeply; not even the slightest sound Chan could make the entire night wake him up, so the possibilities of Minho coming in here are low; so incredibly low.
He just lays his head on his knees after a while of trying to soothe the rapid rise in the beats of his heart and the tears threatening to spill, to which he eventually lets win as he settles his head.
Minho isn’t going to come in here to help, but it wasn’t the same way as his old caregiver was, right?
Minho wouldn’t do this on purpose, right…?
He wouldn’t; he treated Chan so well even when this was dumped on him, and he didn’t know how to do much or handle the fact he had full rights to a little he wasn’t ready for yet.
He didn’t yell when Chan got upset because everything was too much; he kept notes of what he didn’t and did like in terms of textures, smells, and food.
Minho was never different when his friends came over, only introducing him to them and allowing him to come over to them wherever they were in case he needed anything or just wanted to be clingy.
It still bursts the sobs from his chest all over his face in fast-falling tears.
He can’t find the effort to walk into Minho’s room and possibly deal with the consequences of waking him up with his fears; he hates how silent the home is with no electricity, and he hates how he can’t ask for help from someone he’s supposed to trust.
He just imagines Minho coming in here when it storms during the day no matter what, allowing Chan to come as close as he could to him, even if it means on top of him with a blanket over him and his bunny squished between their bodies; anything to help him sleep.
His voice would soothe the incoming hiccuped sobs that wouldn’t last longer than ten minutes; he would be out in less than twenty with a Studio Ghibli in his ears on Minho’s computer in his room away from his window, welcoming out to the backyard where the storm is visible.
Chan doesn’t realize he had fallen asleep with no dream, just black behind his eyes, until he feels soft, warming hands under his sleep shirt near the short sleeves, a Bluey tee with matching sleep pants.
It was something Minho started, to help him wake up more slowly to the day than his old carer did, to soothe him to a place of warmth and safety for him, instead of fear.
“Channie, baby, time to get up. Lixie and Sung are coming over today to play at one,” Minho whispers, so warmly and inviting him to fall back asleep in minutes.
“Mor’ tim’? Please?” Chan felt so exhausted; it couldn’t be later than eight in the morning. Chan probably didn’t fall asleep until four because of the storm, giving him four hours, even less probably. “‘M still tir’d.”
“Tired…? Did you not sleep well last night, baby?” Minho asks, a bit alarmed. He knew he shouldn’t have taken Chan’s words, but he wanted him to know Minho trusted him. “Did you have a nightmare, baby?”
Chan shakes his head, a bit of a lie but it’s fine. “Storm.”
He slowly opens his eyes to see the man’s frown, slipping under his Pokémon comforter and getting comfortable on the headboard in a second. “Come here, baby. We can sleep for a bit longer, I’m sorry.”
“Why..?” Chan mutters, already feeling sleepy even though his brain is screaming it will all go wrong; his old caregiver never allowed him to lie back down—was it a trick?
“Because I forgot about the storm last night, I didn’t want you to sleep alone through it, and you wanted to sleep alone. I completely forgot about it; I’m so sorry, baby.” Minho carefully situated Chan wherever he wanted to be after he came over on his command. “I’ll cancel plans with Hyunjin and the twins today, and we could sleep in and fall asleep watching movies, okay?”
Chan didn’t want to do that; Minho has been talking about wanting to see Hyunjin and the twins for a while, even calling them, complaining that he hates how far away they live, that they can only plan visits every few weeks instead of every other week.
“No… You—You have been talking about wanting to see him and—and the twins for a while; it’s okay, I’ll be okay—”
“Channie.” Minho’s voice is stern and scary; he hasn’t used it since Chan lied about accidentally breaking a glass (Minho’s favorite glass at that) in the sink when doing dishes in a bit of a higher age headspace than even Chan was used to and lied about it. “You haven’t been sleeping properly for almost a month because of your nightmares. I’m worried about you, okay? Hyunjin and the twins will completely understand that we need to reschedule the visit for a day when you are well-rested and ready.”
“But—But, that’s not fair to you! You’ve been wanting this for a long time, and—and I don’t want you to be upset about that—that you can’t see them.” Chan stumbles around; he’s trying not to start crying over something like this, but he doesn’t want Minho mad at him.
He doesn’t want him to yell when Chan’s well rested, that he ruined his plans with his friend and the twins, that he’s too high-maintenance, that he’s stupid.
“I’m—I’m sorry.”
“Baby, hey, it’s okay.” Minho places a cautious hand in his hair, another rubbing his back. “Don’t cry, it’s okay, I promise. I won’t be mad or upset because I care about you and your health; it’s important, and I want you healthy and happy, okay? Sleep now, baby. I’ll text Hyunjin.”
Chan swallows the lump in his throat but follows Minho’s instructions. His stuffed animal is tucked in his arms; his bedspread, Minho told him to pick out, is tucked tightly until it reaches his collarbone. “I’ll be right outside; if you need anything, shout, okay? I’ll be back when I get off the phone, but you know Jinnie; he likes to talk.”
Chan just nods, feeling Minho run a hand through his hair for a few as the phone rings to help him wind down into sleep. He does fall asleep a bit later when Hyunjin picks up after a second try of a phone call, and he hears Minho’s soft voice before he’s asleep.
Chan has a nightmare again, one where when he wakes up, he’s panting and his eyes are shut. It’s probably later in the morning, but Minho isn’t here. Not that he can see anyway; his eyes are shut tightly enough that it hurts.
He’s whimpering, remembering what his dream is about. He saw his old carer again, angry and yelling at him in the voice he had grown familiar knowing; he had never made them happy because he always got into trouble somehow.
He’s blocking his ears, hoping that’ll silence the random noise in his ears, but he doesn’t hear Minho’s footsteps or voice.
When a hand appears on his shoulder, Chan screams. He’s cornering himself on his bed, closest to the wall; his back is close to the railing of his bedframe. He’s trembling so much he can’t breathe; his heart is pounding in his ears.
“—Nnie? Baby…? Channie, it’s just Min, okay?” He hears a bit of Minho’s voice; he curls his fingers on his ears, feeling the small velvet touch of his ears.
“Baby? Can you hear me?” Chan doesn’t know how long he stays in this position before his trembling begins to slow and he’s not screwing his eyes shut for dear life; his vision sort of bounces around when he grabs a few blinks.
He looks to see Minho in front of him, his eyes full of worry and love. “Hi, baby. What happened?” He opens his jaw, replicating a fish out of the water.
His voice won’t come out; he’s scared Minho will force him to talk, and he’s probably already annoyed with how Chan acts.
“That’s okay if you can’t talk; is it okay if I lie with you? You didn’t really sleep long, only 30 minutes. You don’t have to sleep, but at least lie down?” Chan nods, making room for Minho on the bed.
The caregiver lifts the comforter and slides in carefully, guiding Chan to lie down with him, his hand already through his curls the minute Chan settled into his shoulder, “I wouldn’t ever make you talk if you don’t want to. Maybe we can learn sign language for when you don’t or can’t talk, so we can still communicate. How does that sound?” Chan nods against him; it does sound better than forcing him to talk.
“Good, if that changes, let me know; we can think of something else. Maybe a communication device or something, whatever you think of and want, no rush,” Minho whispers now, not wanting to talk too loud when they were this close.
Chan just nods, his nose nudging at the carer’s jaw just a few inches close to his ear where his hoop earrings dangle. “Min always wants you to be comfortable; this is your home now too. If you don’t like anything, you can always tell me. You are always welcome to sleep with me too; my bed is too big for me alone.”
Chan knows Minho is talking to fill the silence, to whisper to him to sleep or somewhere alike, to place him in a place of safety where Minho doesn’t have to worry about him & his storm of emotions and issues.
It’s not uncommon for him to go non-verbal when he’s had something happen that makes him overwhelmed and not want to talk, but it also happens when he’s slipping smaller and losing his possibility of control and being more vulnerable because he feels so much like a baby when he can’t speak.
“Hyunjin wanted me to tell you not to worry that they can’t come over today; Jisung wasn’t feeling too well anyway. You know how some plans make him feel really icky? He was feeling that about today.” Minho watches as Chan just opens his eyes to blink up at him, making him know he’s understanding. “They said we can hang out another time when you and Ji are feeling better.”
Chan nods, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in Minho’s neck as the older softly hums, playing with the curls at the end of his neck.
His mind slips down and down until he’s deep into his brain, and he doesn’t feel Minho’s fingers anymore.
Chan blinks as his eyes are on Minho’s chest, his phone in one of his hands as he still plays with Chan’s hair. He whines low and slips his arms to stretch.
“Sleep well, baby?” Minho’s voice is soft and kind, his phone long gone now. Chan just hums, trying to snuggle into getting more sleep, but he just laughs.
“We need to get some food for you and a bath.” Chan whines low; even if he feels much better than he did when he woke up earlier, he doesn’t want to do anything, but he knows Minho wouldn’t allow it.
“Maybe I can attempt fairy bread again, hm? Get it right this time for you; we bought those cute Pokémon cookie cutters, remember?” Minho was trying to ease Chan into the idea, and it worked.
Chan did really want to use his Pokémon cutters, especially for something as close to home as the fairy bread. The little nods in Minho’s neck, and the caregiver smiles. “After your bath, after we finish breakfast, we can lounge around. Sounds like a deal?”
Chan nods again, allowing Minho to carry him into the kitchen and place him on the counter. He knows he rarely drops below the age of four, so there’s no worry he will fall or even get into anything that he shouldn’t.
Minho begins making Chan’s breakfast; he knows it’s not ideally healthy, but he wants the little one to feel better, and honestly, he wants to make himself feel better for what an awful example of a caregiver he is.
Even if he’s just learning, he still feels this failing feeling in his body when he realizes what he has done wrong.
He decides on fruit on the side and some pineapple juice (watered down because a sugar-high Chan is not a favorite Chan of his); the fairy bread looks like a few random Pokémon characters he picked out of the massive drawer filled almost entirely with every evolution of the characters he likes.
“Thank you, hyungie,” Chan mumbles, and Minho smiles gently at him with a ruffle to his curls as he goes back into the kitchen to make his own breakfast, which he just settles on cereal, and he joins him at the table, his nose already covered in the mixture of sprinkles and butter.
Minho just slightly laughs at him, dipping his head low and shaking it before scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He waits a bit longer before he asks, “How did I do?”
“It's so good, Hyungie! Hyungie is—is a magician!” Chan responds, way more energetic and happy than he was before, and it makes Minho’s heart swell. “Reminds me of how my momma used to make it.”
“I’m so glad it does, Channie,” Minho’s smile grows bigger as he watches his eyes sparkle with happiness when he takes bite after bite of his bread, more mixture of butter and sprinkles mixing.
The rest of the breakfast is silent until they finish and his face is wiped from the mess of butter and sprinkles, and Chan realizes he has to take a bath now, something he doesn’t really enjoy unless he’s really little, down to ages classified as baby space (but Chan doesn’t really like that word; he thinks it’s embarrassing).
“Do I hav' to?” Chan pouts, looking up at Minho with the most dedicated puppy eyes he’s ever seen when the dishes are put in the sink and he comes back.
“Yes, angel. Come on, don’t you want to feel clean? I’ll even heat up the towel while you are in the bath,” Minho is already directing him to the bathroom, stopping at the hall closet for a towel and Chan’s curl products.
He frowns, seeing the white, porcelain tub and stops in his tracks. “Min-hyung, I don’t want to.”
“I know you don’t, baby, but you’ll get sick if you aren’t clean, you understand?” Minho explains, but Chan huffs. He hates baths; they are loud, and sometimes he accidentally gets soap in his eyes if he’s being too dumb. “Chan, baby. It’ll be a quick bath, I promise.”
“Pinkie promise?” Chan whispers, his pinkie sticks out, and Minho just wants to pepper him with kisses.
“I pinkie promise,” Minho gently smiles at him, gently reaching for the knobs of the bath, getting it nice and warm for him.
“Is that okay, Channie?” Chan gently sticks a finger in, nodding in approval before allowing Minho to undress him and place him in the warm bath and begin washing him.
Minho tips his chin when he looks down at the wall of porcelain that separates them, already having a small cup full of water to wash the conditioner he put after the shampoo out.
It’s quiet for the rest of the bath, even if he wants to pry about Chan’s spacing out, but it’s relatively normal for him to space out during this; it helps him not be so overwhelmed, he explained when Minho asked in concern.
When the bath is finished and the water is done flowing, Minho places some curl cream into his hair, scrunching the excess cream and water mixture into the draining bath before helping Chan out and into his favorite fluffy wolf towel that had a hood on it, and it was so warm.
Minho gets him dressed in his room after his hair and body are dried off with a separate warm towel, his face gently cleaned, and moisturized. In Chan’s room, he’s dressed in some Pokémon pajama pants and a way-too-big basic colored tee that definitely belonged to Minho at some point.
“Ready for a lounge day, baby?” Minho gently smiles at Chan after he’s all dressed and his curls are a bit drier.
The little nods as he grabs his plushy of choice and his favorite blanket, allowing himself to be picked up and directed into the living room with his favorite blanket almost dragging on the floor behind them and his plushy tightly held in his arms.
They settle on the couch; Chan immediately snuggles into Minho as much as he wants, and he already knows what the little one wants to watch.
“Comfy?” Minho gently laughs at him, and a head full of curls nods below him, shaking in a response of a yes. “Good.”
The show begins, and they ease into silence as Chan watches attentively, gasping when something cool or interesting happens that makes Minho’s heart swell in pride that he is able to call Chan his little.
“Min-‘yungie…?” Chan whispered gently, Minho hummed in reply, a hand finding his curls and pulling them back gently before they bounced back to their original spot. “Lov’ you, I’m glad you take care of me.”
“I’m glad I’m able to, sweetheart,” Minho whispers back in response, a kiss pressed to his hair before his attention goes back to the show.
Chan is fast asleep in mere minutes, and Minho follows behind without a care in the world, as long as he’s with his baby.