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Curled up into a fury ball, Smitty felt himself shrink smaller and smaller with each sob. Nothing was going right today.
When he first woke up, he craved some cereal, but there was no milk. There was only the disgusting, unsweetened vanilla almond milk John had. Smitty didn’t feel like having eggs; the thought alone made his stomach turn into a knot. So he settled for toast and butter, though the toaster was broken, so it was cold toast and room temperature butter.
He had been getting a lot of hate comments lately, nothing new, but this time, he couldn’t ignore them. Most either criticized his weird laugh or got frustrated that Smitty didn’t know how to play a game on his first try. He never responded to the comments, but he couldn’t stop reading each one in his recent video.
Then lunch time came around, he texted John to pick up some food for the two of them. John agreed, but let him know in advance that it was going to be a while before. He sighed impatiently, switching from sitting on the couch with an empty, growling stomach to opening his fridge like food was gonna magically appear.
And the cherry on top, the sudden headaches. It might’ve been a mixture of not having much food throughout the day and a recent messed-up sleeping schedule; whatever it was, it left Smitty’s head pulsating in pain. He whined under his breath, hand holding his head, fingers gripping tighter in frustration. Why wasn’t anything going right today? It wasn’t fair.
He had felt so small; everything felt too much. He was too worried about the next fuck up for him, cause he knew it would just overwhelm him with the fact he didn’t have any control. And so that’s how he found himself here, lying on the cold kitchen tiled floor, knees to his chest, tears streaming down his cherry tomato cheeks. It was already getting dark, the sun dipping low, the corners of the room looking ominous. He hated the dark, but he felt too scared to move and turn on the lights.
Suddenly, the front door could be heard unlocked before being closed. “Smitty, I’m home. You okay, buddy?” John called out, the sound of padded footsteps and grocery bags becoming louder as the door shut. Smitty stopped crying, sitting up on one hand as he waited for John to walk in. When he did enter the kitchen, his smile soon dropped when he saw Smitty. Hair was messy, eyes bloodshot, tears drenched in salty tears, snort running down to his top lip, lips slightly trembling. God, how he felt his heart drop.
And then, Smitty’s broken toy box of a voice spoke. “J-...ohn?”
John calmly dropped his things, slowly approaching and kneeling to Smitty’s level. Hands cupped Smitty’s soft face, thumbs caressing his cheek. “What’s wrong, Smit? Were you having a tantrum again?” Smitty looked away at the floor before nodding. John smiled lightly at his sudden shyness; he must’ve gotten triggered by something and was now in a little space. He needed to be careful. Smitty regressed like this was almost like messing with fancy porcelain plates. So vulnerable and fragile. Arms wrapped around John’s torso as Smitty continued to sob into his shoulder. Fingers combed through Smitty’s hair at the nape of his neck, the other splayed on his back underneath his shirt, knowing his cold rings would be a nice grounding touch to Smitty’s warm skin. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” John cooed. “Just let it all out, let your feelings flow.”
After some time had passed, during which the two didn’t move from their place, the sobs began to die down as Smitty pulled his face away from John. Smitty hummed upsettingly, sniffling his stuffy nose. “It’s okay, Smit,” John cooed, “Let’s blow your nose, yeah?” Like magic, John has Smitty’s favorite handkerchief in his hand; it has cow patterns all over it. He held it up to his nose, the other hand cradling one side of his face. "Blow," He softly commanded Smitty, feeling him blow his nose. He again wiped his nose of all snot, balling up the handkerchief and placing it on the counter. He placed a small kiss between Smitty's eyebrows. "Good job, buddy. You feelin' any better?" A small frown was still on Smitty's face as he shook his head no.
“How about this?” John settles to sit next to Smitty, taking his right hand. “Let’s take a much-needed bath, eat dinner, have a special dessert I got, and take a much-needed nap. How does that sound, buddy?” Silence plays in the air as Smitty brought grey long sleeves up to his, silently chewing on it in deep thought. "We'll have a nice bubble bath, eat some mac n cheese, eat some cookies and milk, and watch a Disney movie. I know how much you love cookies." John added, watching the sparkles in Smitty's eye as Smitty smiled. "Really?" John nodded with a smile. "Yeah, but we first gotta get you up first."
Standing up from the floor, John gave Smitty a hand, who still had his sleeve up to his mouth. He took him to the bathroom, setting up the bath with lavender ointments and bubbles. He helped Smitty undress and get inside the tub. Smitty's eyebrows furrowed, "Where's...Where's my toys?" John soaked a washcloth in the bathwater. "Let me clean your body first, then you can get them when I clean your hair." Smitty let out a frustrated noise. John sighed, drizzling soap on the now-wet cloth. "Smit, what do we do when we have bad feelings?" Smitty looks down, cupping a few bubbles before blowing them out of the palms of his hands. "We leave them at the front door."
"That's right, now let's leave them there, yeah?" He always kept his tone soft and quiet, even when disciplining him. He knew yelling wouldn't do much and would only trigger him. The benefits of Smitty growing up with verbally abusive parents. He picked up one of Smitty's arms, cleaning it with the cloth. He moved around Smitty's body, softly scrubbing the specks of dirt off him, humming a soft tune to the little. He finishes quickly, ringing out the cloth and setting it aside. John goes to the cabinet underneath the sink, pulling out a few toys along with some strawberry shampoo. A plastic red, blue, and white steamboat that had pedals for water and whales that could squeeze out water when filled.
He placed the toys in water, Smitty gleefully taking them. John got some shampoo in his palm, soaking Smitty's hair before scrubbing the shampoo in. He watched from time to time how entertained Smitty got, playing pretend with his toys. It didn't take long for him to finish cleaning his hair, leaving the bathroom briefly to get a towel. He returned to help Smitty dry up, ruffling his hair til it damped and let the little wrap it around his shoulders like a cape. They settled in the bedroom, the caregiver searching for comfortable clothes for the little. John pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. "So how were you doing before you went to the little place?" Smitty's legs swum back and forth off the edge of the bed, mind wandering for a bit before answering. "He was upset, because nothing was being fair to him." John hummed, picking out a white t-shirt black hoodie before closing the closet door and walking towards Smitty. Smitty continued, looking down and coyly playing with his pruny fingers, "It felt like it was this big." He spreads his arms apart to emphasize, and John quietly giggles. "I bet you it did."
"And then...and then he felt he was really small. Even I do."
John slightly tilted his head. "Really?"
"Yeah, he might be strong on the outside, but in here," Smitty then pointed to his chest with his index finger, "He feels small, really small."
A part of John felt his heart ache in sympathy; even though he was in a little space, he was still able to calibrate his feelings in such a way. "I get that, I feel like that all the time."
Smitty looks up at his eyelashes, long and wet. "Really?"
"Yes, everybody does now and then. And that's okay, just remember, you have control over how you feel about it."
"I do?"
"Of course, now lift your arms and let's get you dressed."
Smitty obeyed, lifting his arms and getting changed. The two headed downstairs where John prepared dinner for the two as Smitty drew in his notebook in the dining room with some colored pens that John handed to him. Peeking over his shoulder, John watched Smitty scribble away, quickly adding the two boxes of cauliflower pasta instead of the normal kind. Knowing Smitty, John suspected that Smitty didn't have any proper meal in his system today, so he needed to at least sneak in something healthy for today. He folded the boxes and threw them away before sitting next to Smitty, leaning over to see what he was drawing.
"Whatchu' drawing buddy?"
Smitty excitedly put the pens down and held up the notebooks. "Look! This is me, this is you, and that's Octavi!"
The drawing had two stick figures, the taller presumably John, and the shorter Smitty, and a dog, being Octavia. John carefully ripped the paper and took it in his hands, ruffling Smitty's hair. "You're a real artist, let me put this on the fridge." Smitty giggled as John left, putting the drawing against a fridge magnet on the fridge. A few more minutes passed by before John had finished preparing dinner, getting out a red tray, separating the food into each section, and putting some milk into Smitty's sippy cup. "Ding, Ding, Ding!" John mimicked the sound of a bell as he brought the food over, "Dinner is served!"
After cleaning up the dining table and convincing Smitty to stop chewing on the gripper part of the blue pen, John placed the tray and sippy cup in front of him. "Our meal today is mac 'n' cheese, chicken tenders, strawberries, carrots, ranch, and milk." He placed some small utensils and paper towels next to the tray, sitting next to Smitty, using the fork to pick up some pasta and chicken before bringing it to Smitty's mouth. "Say 'aaah'!" Smitty willingly took the bite as John took a paper towel and cleaned the corners of his mouth. "Good job!" Smitty swallowed, drinking some of the milk before saying how delicious the meal was. John helped Smitty eat dinner, at least a good amount of it, the scraps John could eat along with the extra pasta and chicken he had made for the two. He put the dishes aside and warmed up a paper plate of three chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. Smitty ate them happily as John had his dinner next to him, listening to Smitty ramble about a dream he had once had, in which he and John were playing Candyland and were suddenly on the gameboard itself.
The two finished their food, John noticing how Smitty's eyelids kept drooping, he knew he wouldn't be able to stay up to watch the movie he had planned. "Alright, naptime." He helped Smitty up on his feet, who kept sleepily stumbling. Smitty groggly protested, "Noooo! I...I wanna watch movie." He brought his hand up to chew on the sleeve of his hoodie, but John softly swatted it away. Smitty whined, but John then searched in his pockets before pulling out Smitty's binky. "Here, we're trying to stop chewing on our hands and clothes. Remember?" Smitty silently nodded, taking the binky in his mouth, seeming content with it rather than his sleeve. The older carried the younger bridal style, the younger, nuzzling his head into his chest, as John took them to the little space bedroom.
It had blue walls and yellow curtains that covered the windows, the curtains having patterns of all the different planets. The room had a bed with similar patterns on a blue blanket and pillow case, shelves on the wall for books and plushies, a toy box in the corner, a carpet of a road that you played toy cars on, it was like walking into a Toys R Us. He settles Smitty into the already open bed, picking up a white rabbit plushie and tucking it in between his arms. He switches on a night light from the outlet next to the bed, and the nightlight globe that projects a litter of yellow stars on the walls and ceiling. The little felt the mattress dip as the caregiver settled next to him, facing him with a warm smile. "Are you feeling any better?" John whispered, and Smitty hummed yes with a nod. "Well, I'm glad."
He leaned over, giving Smitty's forehead and cheek a million kisses as Smitty giggled, "Johnny! That tickles!" John leaves one last kiss on his temple before stopping. "Alright, alright. I'll let you get some sleep." He lets Smitty settle his face into his chest, resting his face into his hair, and the smell of strawberry milk fills his lungs pleasantly. It was funny how John found himself being a caregiver. If you had told John from five years ago that not only would he date his best friend but that he would also become his caregiver for his age regression, he would've called you crazy. John still remembers the day Smitty told him, he settled him on the couch, holding his hands on his palms. He confessed to it, saying it was his way of coping and a response to his childhood trauma and abuse, never being able to truly be raised and live a life that a kid should have had. It confused John at first, but as he got to see more of Smitty in his little space and certain things that triggered him (mainly when John or anyone in general yelled at him repeatedly), it all made sense to him. It wasn't something he did; it was a trauma response to everything that he suffered through.
He learned how to comfort him and certain tricks to help Smitty after triggers in his little space. He bought toys and decorated an unused room as his little space. Learned which tones did and didn't work if Smitty wasn't behaving or communicating correctly. He was basically a second parent to him, and John didn't mind. If it was what made Smitty happy, comforted, and content with his life, then so be it. He knows he often got ashamed of this part of his life, but John always assured him that it's a normal and perfectly fine way to cope with his situation. He just couldn't see himself leaving Smitty over such a little thing and was glad to be there before anything worse could happen.
John placed one last small kiss into Smitty's hair, stroking it with tender fingers. "I love you, Smit. Always."
"I love you too, Johnny...more than the stars in space."
John felt his lips turn into a smile, his cheeks aching from how wide it was. "And so do I."