Chapter Text
The thing about Ikeda was that the actions he took rarely ever made sense. He was simultaneously terrified of violence and constantly inciting it upon himself. Tei felt like an asshole thinking that way, but there was really no other way to put it. A good half of the hits Ikeda received were the result of carefully calculated goading from him. Ikeda knew exactly where to hit where it hurt, and wasn’t afraid to exploit that.
In their first year, Tei had thought it was some unhinged victim complex, at least until he got to know Ikeda and his… habits more. Hirose guessed that it was some level of trauma response: Ikeda lived every day terrified that people were going to hurt him. If he forced them into doing so, he could both reinforce his fear-induced logic and have some level of control over the violence he was experiencing.
They’d been working on it, but from what precious little Ikeda and Matthias shared about Ikeda’s childhood, the habit was going to be nigh impossible to shake.
There was a tentative, unspoken agreement between Tei and the rest of the class. Tei would do his best to rein Ikeda in and keep him on his best behaviour, and when another incident inevitably occurred, Tei would do his best to bite his tongue and keep quiet about how everyone chose to handle Ikeda. It was hard to stick to and had been broken countless times by both parties.
Tei knew he was mildly enabling Ikeda’s behaviour, but he couldn’t stop himself, not when he was given the closest thing to trust Ikeda had to offer. He’d already broken it once, telling Ruka about Ikeda’s regression without his consent, and he wasn’t keen to repeat the fallout from that.
The point was, if Tei’s classmates knew even a fraction about Ikeda that Tei did, he’s sure they’d be a bit more patient with him, a bit more likely to disengage rather than react. Tei wasn’t wishing for perfection; he couldn’t even achieve that. His hands had hurt Ikeda more than he’d like to admit.
Only two people in the class knew that Ikeda regressed, excluding Tei and Ikeda himself. Tei had been the one to tell both of them. Hirose, as he desperately tried to understand Ikeda’s odd behaviour, and Ruka as he vented about the stress of caring for Ikeda.
It’s not that he’d change anything for the world, or that he saw Ikeda as a burden, but in the beginning, he had no idea what was happening and no clue how to help Ikeda. How was he supposed to help anyone who begged for permission to tend to basic bodily functions? It felt impossible. As time passed, especially as they reached their second year, they fell into a more familiar sort of rhythm. Tei considered it nothing short of a miracle that Ikeda’s regression hadn’t been found out yet. They’d had a close call with Denden when Ikeda went from drawing with her the day before to being waspish and surly. He’d managed to explain that off as Ikeda not feeling well, but he was worried about any repeats of that.
The way it happened was a lot more mundane than that. Ikeda had been quiet throughout class, not even attempting to bother Kumada like he usually did. Neither of them had even needed to be moved to a different desk, an occurrence that had only happened a handful of times before. Naturally, Tei was worried.
Tei was in the back row and couldn’t see Ikeda’s expression from here. Worry chewed at him as he impatiently waited for class to end so he could check on Ikeda.
When the bell rang, Ikeda was up and out of his seat in seconds. Tei stood up to meet him as he came. His heart dropped to his stomach as Ikeda buried his face in Tei’s chest.
“Hi, buddy,” he greeted softly, under his breath. What was the protocol for this? Pull Ikeda off now and spare him the embarrassment, but upset him? Or let him cling and deal with the class’s inevitable questions? Either way seemed awful.
He could hear quiet sniffles coming from Ikeda and knew that there’d be no peeling him off. Whenever Ikeda regressed, he was either an inconsolable wreck, unable to speak unless it was to beg for permission for food and such, or he was a little bit older, smilier and softer, able to play, laugh, and have fun. Right now, he was smaller and shakier, too vulnerable for Tei to willingly deprive him of comfort for the sake of big Ikeda. There was a bitter taste in his throat, knowing he was damning him either way.
“Is he okay?” Isoda asked, looking mildly curious and alarmed. Isoda was generally one of the most tolerant towards Ikeda, a notion that extended to everyone else in the class. They were just a good person.
“I, um. Yes, he’s fine,” Tei tried to play it off, cringing at his flustered response. Ikeda somehow pressed even closer to him.
Hirose, hanging around Isoda’s side of the desk, looked alarmed. “Is he…?” He asked Tei.
“Yeah,” Tei nodded. “I’ve got to get him out; I wouldn’t want anyone to notice.”
As he was wrapping up his sentence, one Kumada Erina, through no fault of her own, really, how was she to know Tei was trying to make his subtle escape, loudly interrogated him. “The fuck’s up with him?” She demanded, pointing to a trembling, cowering Ikeda buried in Tei’s embrace.
“Um,” was Tei’s eloquent response. How did he miss Kumada and Yaitabashi coming over to hang out at Nishiguchi’s desk? He felt like an idiot. He felt terrible for poor Ikeda.
“It doesn’t matter,” was Hirose’s stern response.
Attention caught by Kumada’s loud volume, Ruka rushed over. “Don’t worry about it, guys! Ikeda just needs a little quiet and space; we can give that to him, right? Tei’s going to take him outside, and everything will be a-okay!” She chirped, clasping her hands to punctuate her point.
“The fuck would I do that for, though?” Kumada questioned. “He’s been acting weird all of today; what’s up with him?”
Tei really hoped she was asking out of concern. Several voices overlapped: his and Hirose’s and Ruka’s as they all tried to reassure her that everything was fine, or snap that it was none of her business, or give empty promises of explaining it later. Yaitabashi could occasionally be heard telling Kumada to leave it.
The commotion garnered the attention of the few students who were occupied doing something else, and it truly felt like the whole class had eyes on Ikeda. Tei’s grip tightened around him, calming his own nerves whilst hopefully soothing Ikeda.
They were closed in. Most of the people boxing them in were doing so out of good faith, trying to see what was up with Ikeda and if they could help, but the situation was escalating far beyond what Tei could control.
Ikeda’s sobs started gaining in volume the more overwhelmed he got, Tei doing his best to shush him. “It’s fine, you’re okay, it’s fine, you’re okay,” he mumbled, over and over again, but he didn’t even believe it himself.
“T- Tei,” Ikeda whined, teary and fragile, and, unfortunately, very audible. Tei cringed. “Atsushi!” He whimpered.
“What’s his deal?” Maekawa questioned, curiosity overtaking her as she stepped closer, despite Shishikura’s hesitant attempts to pull her back. “He’s acting weird.”
“Guys, I appreciate that this is interesting to you or whatever, but can you please give him a little space?” Tei begged, rubbing circles on Ikeda’s back, worried he was going to work himself up into hyperventilation if the situation didn’t deescalate.
Tei got a little more room to work with as he finally got through to his classmates, guiding Ikeda a little further away.
“W- Wait… But shouldn’t you let us know what’s going on? So we can help!” Denden chirped. “I promise we’re not going to be mean to him if that’s what you think!”
“I mean…” Kumada muttered, getting shushed by Yaitabashi.
Poor, sweet Denden, always trying to help. “Leave it, Denden,” Hirose instructed softly, but Denden’s question had started a new round of discussion amongst their classmates, and Ikeda looked seconds away from passing out, and Tei was seriously just about to blurt the secret out, no matter how upset Ikeda would be, because surely it would be better than this, and-
Tei’s eyes met Hirose’s. He didn’t know what Hirose saw in them - his desperation, his fear, whatever - but Hirose sighed, steeled himself, and opened his mouth.
“Ikeda is an involuntary age regressor,” he explained, and Tei could feel Ikeda stiffen in his arms. He did his best to soothe him. “What that means is that sometimes he reverts to the mindset of a child. It’s completely out of his control, and when he’s in that headspace, for all intents and purposes, he is a child.”
And taking advantage of their classmates’ stunned silence, Tei rushed Ikeda out of the classroom.