Chapter Text
Even before this evening, Chan was certain there was something amiss.
With Minho, that was.
The younger man had been acting off lately.
Different.
Emotional.
Unpredictable. (In other ways than his usual unpredictable personality. More concerning ways).
A lot quieter.
Distant.
Too distant.
Almost sad.
There was even a droplet of anger mixed into the waters.
At first Chan had put it down to the endless schedules, choosing not to intervene. It wasn’t odd for exhaustion to easily catch up with them, for the members to take extra alone time when at home, to not be as sociable as they presented themselves to STAY. When incidents like this occurred, the others would put more energy into looking after the littles. That was fine. It was fair. Sometimes solitude was necessary. It was healthiest that way.
But then he’d started to notice how Minho would flinch away anytime one of the littles dropped. How panic would cross his features, it was mild, but it was there.
At that moment Chan realised that this wasn’t that. This was different. He’d been meaning to talk about it with him earlier, but had never gotten the time.
As the change in behaviour had started roughly around the time Minho had received his class information, the others had all originally started to suspect that although Minho had admitted he was a little himself, that he had some sort of internalised prejudice against the other subclass— for whatever reason that may be. To them, it made sense, especially given the way he had blatantly started to avoid the littles at all costs, no excuses, no trying to talk himself out looking after them, he would just avoid them without shame. That was fine. Minho wasn’t obliged to look after them, he was a little too, but the sudden aversion was head turning.
Their suspicions only grew when one evening Minho seemingly snapped out of nowhere, startling Felix who had been little at the time.
Chan remembers it well. Too well.
Felix had been innocently tugging at Minho’s sleeve, trying to get Minho to play with him when Minho had just— lost his temper with him, his words harsh and his actions even crueler— he’d moved as if possessed, had grabbed Felix’s plushie from him, put it above his head, taunting him, knowing damn well a little’s motor abilities were affected when regressed. When Felix hadn’t been able to receive it, Minho had ran from the room, Felix confused and hurt trailing behind him, Felix had meekly requested it back— had attempted to get it back even— but Minho had decided to take the kitchen scissors to it, when the plushie’s insides were pulled from it’s body, the carcass got planted straight in the trash, it’s forever graveyard. The plush was ruined.
Felix had been devastated. The little was shaken, scared, his regressed mind not understanding why one of his ‘caregivers’ had treated him so.
Minho had known it’d upset him, why else would he have done it? And to Felix out of all the littles? Felix who has the most sensitive out of all 4?
It was cruel. It was cold.
Unnecessarily cruel, if he hadn’t wanted to play with him, he could’ve just said so. Felix had done nothing to him.
Minho had stood, breathing heavily. Felix had burst into tears, the others moved quickly to console him.
They couldn’t believe what they’d just witnessed.
It was unnatural to treat a regressed little that harshly.
Chan had watched as Minho’s expression quickly became regretful, guilt had seeped into his features, contorting them just enough for it to be noticeable, he looked mind blown at his own actions too, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. The others didn’t witness that, Minho had changed his expression blank, devoid of any secrets before they could. That’s what had pissed them off more, the supposed lack of guilt.
“What is wrong with you lately, hyung?” Chan remembers Changbin hissing to Minho, Felix curled into his side— he’d been the first to break the deafening silence. Everything quiet except for the sound of Felix’s sobs and the hum of the refrigerator. Minho’s gaze had not once met Changbin’s, he didn’t bother to defend himself, his eyes met Chan’s for a brief second before he stormed out. Chan had called after him, wanting to be a good leader and an even better friend.
There was something just— wrong with the situation. Wrong in a way he couldn’t figure out how, despite the obvious. Even before, Minho had seemed skittish, he had all that evening. Felix’s simple action must’ve been his last straw, whatever that might’ve been.
He remembers trying to get the others to calm down, that they should all be mature about the situation, let things calm down before assuming things. Everything would be so much easier if Minho could confide in his only hyung instead, instead of keeping whatever was bothering him so bottled up the way he was.
Chan also couldn’t help but think of how childish the action was. Minho throwing Felix’s plushie away like that. So impulsively. So childishly. He supposed the others forgot that Minho was also a little. And granted even if Minho wasn’t regressed, Chan didn’t like that the others were so quick to start yelling at him like that. They could’ve been more gentle.
And for the prejudice? He doesn’t think that’s true anymore. Not after this evening.
Minho had never been anything other than a great ‘caregiver’ to the littles. And yes, whilst it was true that it was only recently that this sort of behaviour had began to surface, Chan didn’t think the other’s suspicions that Minho thought he was better than the other littles was true. If anything his sudden change of behaviour was worrying and Chan was adamant to get to the root of it.
Was he embarrassed of his class, perhaps? Minho hadn’t spoken about his presentation much, nobody had ever pressed him to, knowing that he was embarrassed about presenting so late, also knowing that independent littles didn’t need their drops discussing— it was in the name. But the one time Minho had, he’d mentioned expecting to present as a neutral, it had to be a shock that he hadn’t.
But Minho was independent and Chan knew Minho’s drops were nobodies business other than his own. Unlike the other littles, who the caregivers (+jisung) had to make sure they were getting the right amount of drops, for the right timespans so that their health was kept at a steady level, what Minho did, how Minho planned out his drops and what he did in them, was something they didn’t have to think about. It would be rude for them to ask.
Even still, sending Minho back to his dorm tonight had been hard on Chan’s heart.
Chan had his suspicions that Minho had been.. sort of? was on the verge of? regressing when he’d seen how cozy the younger man had been in the living room earlier, pillow cutely wrapped in his arms, huge boba eyes wide with fascination as he watched the movie, occasionally quietly giggling and pointing at the scenes, lost in his own cute little world. Chan watched the scene with a smile, it would’ve been nice if Minho had presented dependant. He hadn’t thought Minho would drop whilst the others were around at all, it had brought a smile to his face.
But maybe Minho hadn’t fully regressed.
He could be in a big headspace and watch a children’s film.
Minho hadn’t regressed in front of anybody yet. Chan didn’t think he ever would. He didn’t have to, so why would he? There was no reason to now.
But then the kitchen incident had occurred and he had dropped. And he’d dropped completely. Chan’s caregiver instincts had forced him to clean and take care of the wound. His brain hadn’t been thinking rationally, just that he had a hurt little to take care of.
When the shock of the situation had died down, Chan realised what he’d done.
He could only hope that Minho had took care of himself well this evening.
Well.
Only time would tell, dinner was almost ready.
He'd receive Minho soon.
—Little did he know what he was about to witness would change the trajectory of his life forever.