Chapter Nineteen #2
But there’s time to muse on that later. I step back tentatively, raising my free hand to show him what I’ve brought into the bathroom with me. “Let’s get you cleaned up now, hmm? I have wipes, and some new shorts, and—”
“A diaper.” His blue gaze locks onto the item in question and he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.
“I know you don’t usually wear them,” I explain carefully, watching his expression for any signs that this is going out of his comfort zone in the wrong way, “and you can safe word if I’m wrong, but with how little you are right now, I think it’s safer to use one just in case.”
His pink cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, and he looks down at himself, grimacing.
“I went potty in my pants,” Benji says, back to sounding extremely little for him. “I didn’t make it in time.”
“What’s your traffic light color?”
His eyes dance between the diaper, his wet shorts, and my face. “Green,” he answers quietly before sighing resignedly. “I’m feeling little.”
“You don’t feel this little very often, do you?”
He shakes his head. “No. ’S’weird for me.”
“Does it feel bad?”
“No. Just…different.” His nose scrunches. “I feel…um…” He gives a whole-body wriggle while he seems to struggle to find the word he’s looking for. “Like I can’t hide?”
“Visible?” I offer, and he shakes his head. “Seen?” Another shake. “Exposed? Vulnerable?”
“Yeah, that.” He nods, then looks back down at the floor.
My heart aches for him, and I secretly wonder if this is one of the reasons he leans more towards Middlespace than Littlespace. Not that regressing to Middlespace doesn’t bring its own set of vulnerabilities, mind you.
As I guide him towards one of the change tables, I acknowledge, “It’s scary feeling unprotected and like all your soft spots are on show, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” his gaze is still glued to his feet.
“Well, I hope I can make it less scary. But I’m just going to finish cleaning up around the potty before I get you changed, okay?
” Taking a step back, I gesture to the door for the larger stall I’ve just led him into.
“You can close this door while you wait for me. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.
” I drop my collection of wipes, the diaper, and the spare shorts on top of the change table.
“You did a good job starting the clean up, Benji.”
He bites his lip and nods again, but remains uncharacteristically quiet while I retreat to finish the job he started.
It doesn’t take me long —there are cleaning supplies under the sinks lining the wall near the door specifically for this kind of situation— and after I’ve thoroughly washed my hands, I tap on the changing room’s stall door to announce my return.
The door is still unlocked, so it swings open at my knock, revealing Benji still standing in the middle of the small, brightly-colored space, his shoulders curled inwards and silent tears slipping down his cheeks.
“Oh, honey.”
He sniffles, but raises his chin to look up at me. “ ‘M sorry.”
“We’ve been through this. You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”
“Not for peeing,” he clarifies as I turn the lock on the stall door. Scuffing the toe of his sneaker across the tiled floor, he says, “For leaving camp without saying goodbye.”
Oh.
“I’d rather have this conversation with you when you’re out of headspace,” I reply gently, “but you didn’t owe me anything, Benji, so you don’t have to apologize.”
His expression crumples into one of devastated confusion. “B-but…”
“Later, honey,” I promise, reaching for his shoulders and squeezing gently. “We will talk about it later. Because I was sad that you left, and I have missed you.”
Some of his sadness seems to melt away, replaced by a fleeting glimpse of surprise and wonder, before he cautiously asks, “Really?”
“Really,” I smile softly. “But for right now, we need to get you cleaned up and changed. Then if you want to go back to playing—”
“No!” Benji suddenly looks terrified, which makes my stomach clench. His face has gone pale and his hands are trembling. “No. I can’t. They…they all know. And they won’t wanna be my friends anymore.”
With Asher being in the group chat Chance invited me to join, I know that he’s definitely not going to treat Benji poorly. I only just met Anson and Bear very briefly, but if they are in Ash and Charlie’s circle, I doubt they’ll be any different.
“Hey, shhh,” I pull Benji in for another hug, rubbing his back to calm him. “I know I don’t know your friends very well, but a couple of them were diapered, honey. I think they will understand your headspace getting deeper unexpectedly.”
Because he was playing. He was happy and unguarded. He was with people he felt safe to be himself with. The whole situation makes even more sense now.
“No,” his voice is muffled against my shoulder, “I know they won’t wanna stay friends. I’m too naughty, or I’m too embarrassing.”
It takes me a moment to understand that this isn’t about the Littles I met tonight.
This is about his previous friendships, or what passed for them, anyway.
I grip him a little tighter, wishing the hug could convince him that those people from his past who made him feel bad for being himself were wrong.
“Even if you were deliberately bratting —which we both know you weren’t tonight— those Boys out there in the playroom would still want to be your friends because they like you for who you are, Benji. Warts and all.”
He scoffs, blowing air along the base of my neck.
“I am sure that they do,” I insist. I want to tell him that they were all worried to hear that he was upset, but I’m afraid that will only make him feel more embarrassed, and not in the way he usually enjoys.
Instead, I settle for adding, “They seem like nice people, and they all just want you to be happy.”
“They’re too nice to wanna be friends with a troublemaker like me.”
Oh, there’s so much hurt to unpack there.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the place for it, and I still don’t like the idea of having such an important conversation while he’s so deep in Littlespace.
“Well, you don’t get to decide that for them,” I tell him with an edge of finality.
“So, you’ll just have to suck it up and let the nice people who want to be your friends be your friends…
unless you really don’t want to be friends with them because you’re not comfortable.
” Except, his fearful reaction only moments ago tells me that he does want to maintain the relationships.
Sure enough, he confirms my assumption by telling me, “I do wanna be friends.”
“And I promise they want to be friends with you, too, honey. So, let’s get cleaned up and we can see how you feel about playing again afterwards.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then he nods, offering a soft, sweet: “’Kay.”
And if I wasn’t already hung up on the memories of our time together at camp, that cute, quiet moment of vulnerability would have sealed the deal.