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Somehow, it ended up like this every time, Adam thinks. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, like every limb on his body was just too much, not properly attached. There's a fuzz in his brain, a tremor in his hands, and he can't quite tell if it's because he had lost his match, or because he's spent the last fifteen minutes staring at an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels.
Maybe it's some weird combination of both.
His tongue is thick in his mouth when he swallows, ripping his eyes away from the bottle to glance at the clock hanging up above the door in his locker room. He doesn't know how it ended up on his desk, truly. He's trying to get better, trying to keep the disappointed looks at bay. He'd even ordered a ginger ale at dinner the other night instead of a beer, and just thinking of the happy smile Matt and Nick had given him is enough to make his stomach twist pleasantly for a moment.
He'd nearly knocked the bottle over, actually. He had thrown his jacket in the direction of the vanity, only turning to look when he heard the familiar sound of liquid filled glass rattling as his jacket hit something. Someone must have put it there while he was in his match. He doesn't even remember if he locked the door, so whoever did this didn't even have to break in, they could have just opened the door and-
He's holding the bottle now.
When did he grab the bottle?
He should put it back down. He should get changed. He should go back to his hotel and curl up on the bed with his stuffed horse, eating handfuls of berries until the desperation goes away-
He should let go of the bottle.
He should let go-
Sometimes being small helped. Sometimes instead of giving into the thirst, he gave into the fuzziness. It was easier to not focus on a matter that was so adult when he was like that. When he was small, he didn't need to worry about his matches or his friendships or his public image-
He sets the bottle down with a thunk, the noise echoing through the room at the same time the door creaks open, and he whips around like a kid caught with his hand shoved into the cookie jar. Two sets of unblinking eyes stare at him, then down to the bottle. The pair looks back at him, this time downturned with barely concealed disappointment. They sigh in sync, walking forward at the same time while the door shuts.
In another life, Adam thinks, the Jackson brothers would have been twins. Sometimes he's still a tiny bit convinced that they are, two halves of the same whole. It's hard to tell them apart like this, slight frowns on their face, hands on their hips, and he feels like a child about to be scolded, the air in the room thick. He supposes he is, after all, a child. And about to be scolded.
“I don't know how it got there.” Adam says, pointing behind him at the bottle.
They sigh at the same time, their chests rising and falling in sync, unbelieving him. Matt clears his throat, but it's Nick's voice that cuts through the silence.
“You don't have to lie to us, Adam. We understand how difficult it must be-”
Adam can't focus on the rest of the sentence. His eyes are stinging, and he wants to throw a fit. To stomp his foot and shake his head and whine, but they have no reason to believe him. He's given them no reason other than his word. And how many times has he gone back on that?
“I mean it.” He probably cut off something one of them was saying, probably Matt based off of how Nick furrows his eyebrows in offense. “It was jus' here when I got back, really. Don' know how it got there.”
They look like they're contemplating it, and he has the urge to throw something in frustration. Instead, he turns back and grabs the glass roughly, shoving it at one of them. “Is unopened, promise.”
The younger brother takes it from Adam's grasp, frowning as he inspects the bottle, eyebrows furrowing more when he notices that it is, in fact, still completely sealed.
“You really don't know how this ended up here?” He waits until Adam shakes his head to continue speaking. “Who would do that?”
“Half o’ the roster?”
Matt frowns, glancing up and down, staring at the ring gear Adam's still in. “We'll figure it out, promise. We're proud of you, you know?”
Matt's praise makes the fog in his head thicken, and he tilts his head down, letting his hair block some of their view of his face as he smiles softly. “I los’ though.”
“So?” Nick's done….something with the bottle, it's no longer anywhere in sight when Adam tilts his head up. “You still went out there and fought, you still tried.”
It doesn't feel like enough, but the way Nick's saying it makes it all a bit better. He jumps a bit at a sudden weight on his shoulder, looking over to see Matt softly rubbing his thumb against Adam's skin. “And you didn't…..”
He doesn't finish his words, but Adam knows what he means. Didn't open the bottle.
“You should get changed, cowboy.”
He should, but that feels like such a daunting task. He wonders what would happen if he just sat on the couch and refused to move, not doing anything until they either left in frustration or helped him change. The first option is much more likely. They don't know about his regression, they already worry enough, he didn't need to add this to their plate. Sometimes, he thinks they may suspect something though. It's hard to pretend to be big, and more often than not he ends up curled around one brother, essentially using them as a human teddy bear. They've never said anything, but they're always just a bit softer with him in those moments.
He doesn't move, and as he suspected, Matt sighs in disappointment, frowning. Adam expects him to leave now, to wrap his arm around his brother's shoulders and leave him alone in the cold locker room that's too big and-
“Can I?”
Adam blinks and suddenly Nick is knelt below him, one hand wrapped around Adam's leather boots. He waits for Adam to nod, then starts gently taking off his boots, letting him lean on Nick for balance. He can hear Matt doing something in the room, probably rummaging through the cowboy's duffle bag if the sound of rustling fabric is anything to go by. Matt appears back in his vision clutching something in his hand, and it takes a moment for Adam to realize that it's an old elite shirt, one he got before…..everything happened.
The shirt is too big, stretched out around the collar from him tugging on it, but he's never been able to bring himself to toss it. When he's small, he can wrap himself in the shirt and pretend they're hugging him. Shame flushes across his face, red tinging his cheeks when he notices Matt's knuckles are white around the fabric.
“You kept it?” Matt's voice is shaky, but it's obvious he's trying to control it, to not let the emotion show. Adam shrugs, focusing on how Nick is gently rubbing his thumb back and forth across Adam's ankle. There's silence again, too thick and suffocating, only broken by Matt sighing, moving forward with the shirt. “Come on bud, hands up.”
Something about the way that name sounds in Matt's voice makes all of the fight drain out of Adam's body, and he immediately puts his hands up towards the older brother, letting him pull the shirt over Adam's head, and onto his body. Some time during this process, Nick's replaced the other man's ring pants with some sweatpants, crouching back down to put slippers on Adam's feet.
He feels like a burden.
He's always wanted this, deep down, to be taken care of like this, but shame twists hot and angry in his stomach. He wants to find where Nick hid the bottle-
He knows that's just a temporary solution, it'll only make him feel better for tonight. Neither of the brothers are looking at him and he bites at his lip, his eyes stinging. The two seem oblivious to his internal battle, lightly bickering with each other as Nick hands his older brother a hair tie to put Adam's hair up. It's too much, all too much, and he clamps his eyes shut, determined to not see their disgust- and puts his thumb in his mouth, choking back a whine.
The motion helps, even if just a little. He's fully regressed now, no use in fighting it, he may as well give in. The room feels a bit less suffocating, the embarrassment more of a distant thought right now instead of an all-consuming burn. His shoulders untense even as he hears the brothers’ conversation suddenly cut off, both of them obviously having noticed by now. He flinches at a sudden contact on his face, scrunching his eyes further shut even as Matt speaks.
“Hey, cowboy,” His voice is soft, gentle in a way Adam's really only heard when the other man was speaking to younger fans, it makes his heart flutter. “Can you look at us?”
Adam shakes his head, making some sort of noise in disagreement around his thumb.
“Hanger, please?” Nick's tone has the same gentle tilt to it and Adam finds himself unable to resist the urge to follow their request, and he lets his eyes flutter open, bracing himself. He's going to see disgust, they're going to hate him, they're going to ask him to leave aew, they're-
They're both smiling softly at him, not a trace of repulsion anywhere on their faces. He doesn't understand. Why don't they hate him? Don't they find him disgusting?
“How old are you right now, sweetheart?”
Oh.
They understand.
They know.
He can't even answer, just shakes his head and shuts his eyes again to hold back the tears threatening to escape, leaning forward until his head is smushed against the side of Nick's slightly damp hair. He inhales shakily, the smell of Nick's fruity shampoo calming him down somehow, and he buries his face further against the other man, his knees buckling. It's Matt that catches him, gently lowering the three of them down to the floor, cooing at Adam the whole way down. He opens his eyes again, much less reluctantly, and pulls back from Nick's hair. Even with their eyes on him, he still doesn't feel the need to take his thumb out of his mouth, and he wiggles a bit at how warm he feels considering that his face is still slightly red from embarrassment.
“Wanna go.” It's the first words he's spoken in a bit, muttered around his thumb, and he watches as Matt's eyes light up, a bright smile spreading across his face.
“Wanna go back to the hotel?” Matt waits for Adam to nod before he continues. “Do you want to go to ours or yours?”
“Ours is messy.”
“No it's not!”
“Yes it is! Your stuff is all over the place!” Nick throws his arms up with a huff, this clearly is a repeated argument.
“I'm just unpacked.” Matt sticks his tongue out at his younger brother and Adam giggles, softly smiling at the brothers. “You get to choose, Hanger. Which one?”
“Mine? M gota stuffie.” Adam takes his thumb out of mouth, not even caring about the slobber on it as he tilts his head, still preparing to be left.
“To yours it is!” Nick is up in a moment, leaning down to help the other two up, jumping back with a squeal when Matt hits him for calling Matt an old man as his knees pop. Adam wants to reach out and take their hands but he feels like that's too much to ask, even feeling as happily fuzzy as he does. He's about to start walking when Matt makes an unhappy noise, reaching out to grab Adam's hand with one hand, the other holding Adam's duffle bag, his jacket draped over it. Nick grabs Adam's shoes and his other hand, not saying anything as he leads the three of them out of the locker room and out of the arena, towards their rental car for the night.
He's too focused on the feeling of having his hands held to really focus too much on the drive. He's held hands with the Bucks before, no stranger to friendly affection from any member of the elite, but this is different. He feels like a small child, like how he is mentally, being cared for in a familial way for the first time. It's different, and a bit weird, but in a good way. He never wants it to stop. They pull him out of the car and let him clumsily guide them to his hotel room, helping him when he fumbles with the key card, internally whining when they let go of his hands.
He spots his stuffed horse, Hemsley, on the bed, and feels another rush of embarrassment. There's something a bit different between them seeing him act…small, and actually seeing him with a childlike object. He goes to open his mouth, to explain himself maybe, anything really, but Matt's already tossing Adam's duffle bag near his suitcase, crouching down near the bed, pointing at the horse.
“And what's this fella's name?”
Adam mutters, not really an actual word, and Nick places a hand on Adam's shoulder, softly rubbing the fabric of his shirt. “You've gotta speak up, bud.”
“Hemsley.”
“Can I pet him?”
It's not the reaction Adam was expecting but he nods anyways, tilting his head as he waits for Matt to move. Matt very carefully, and exaggerated, pets the stuffed horse with a finger, smiling softly at it. “You have a very pretty horsie, Hangy.”
Adam giggles at the rhyme, leaning to the side to press himself against Nick, fiddling with the fabric of the other man's shirt. Nick speaks lowly in his ear, trying not to startle him. “What do you want to do?”
He doesn't want to do anything that the brothers don't want to, but they give him no clue as to what's too much, and he shrugs, shaking his head. “Dunno?”
“Well,” Matt sits down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Hemsley. “We could draw, or maybe play a card game, or watch a cartoon-”
Adam feels his eyes widen in excitement at the last offer, and Nick stifles a chuckle at the reaction. “Go lay down with Matt, I'll put this stuff away.”
The older brother throws his hands up towards Adam, smiling as he walks towards him. He pulls Adam back against his chest, laying down on the bed and gently playing Hemsley on Adam's chest as he does so. Adam tucks the stuffed animal against his arm, looking over to find Nick.
“Nicky? Berries?”
Nick raises an eyebrow, trying to get Adam to continue speaking.
“Berries, in da f'idge? Help wif…..” He trails off, picking at Hemsley fur as he looks down. Nick doesn't say anything but comes back with a small container of mixed berries, finding a comfortable spot next to the two, and places a quick kiss against the top of Adam's head.
“You don't have to be ashamed, you know?” Nick gives the container to Matt who happily opens it, flicking through the tv channels with the remote Adam didn't even see him grab. “To ask for help, of any kind. We're right here.”
Adam feels overwhelmed. But in a good way. He isn't sure how to describe it, as he focuses on taking the berries from Matt's hand, occasionally holding a blueberry up to Hemsley's “mouth” for a few seconds. It's good, it's warm, it makes his tummy twist in a gentle way, makes it a bit easier to push past the cravings. He doesn't know how to respond, so he just shrugs. Matt reaches up to push some of Adam's hair back, careful not to disturb the ponytail anymore than it already is.
“We're proud of you, Adam.” Matt finishes his sentence by plopping a strawberry in his mouth, smiling. “We always are. No matter what.”
Adam feels like he is going to cry, but the usual chest aches that accompany crying are not there, and he finds himself pleasantly surprised, letting a few tears fall down his face. He holds another blueberry up to Hemsley, smiling softly. He feels safe here, squished between the two brothers, like he belongs here, and maybe he does. He's not even wondering who put the bottle in his locker room anymore, too focused on the growing warmth inside of him. Nick coos softly, gently wiping the tears off of Adam's face, smiling back at him.
“We'll always be here if you need us, Hangman.”
Matt nods, leaning his head against Adam's shoulder. “Always. We promise.”
Adam nods, his smile growing, and he focuses on the tv across the room, some children's show catching his attention. He can feel their warmth next to him and he curls up slightly, just enough to be comfortable, tucking Hemsley against his chest. Things are ok for now. Maybe not fully better, definitely not fixed, but they're better. For now, he just lets the bright colors on the screen entrance him, his eyelids fluttering shut with exhaustion as the two brothers hold him, giving him a sense of peace he's never felt before. It's wonderful.