Henry Creel was a classified care-giver. That was just a fact. So why was his head so fuzzy now that he was with you? It was like being in a brain fog when he woke up, and he'd been unusually clumsy as of late. He couldn't even tie his shoes right yesterday.

But it couldn't be what he thought it was. It just couldn't There's no way Dr. Brenner would've had him taking care of the kids in the lab and working as an orderly if he was a little. Sure, he used to cry in his hospital bed and suck his thumb after getting punished with the cattle prod. And he'd get a bit too invested in playing with the kids in the Rainbow Room. But that was just normal trauma, he should be over it now that he's free.

You'd started having suspicions after your boyfriend asked you to help him button his shirt for the third day in a row. Henry had been holding on to his adult headspace for far too long, and had never had a proper care-giver. Now that he was safe and relaxed, it was only a matter of time before he dropped completely.

Saturday morning, you got up extra early and started rummaging through your storage closet downstairs. You still had boxes of little supplies from when you'd been a babysitter in high school. Halfway through sorting, you heard the sound of muffled crying upstairs. You wasted no time rushing back to the room, hastily opening to door. Henry was sitting up, damp sheets tangled around his legs.

Henry squirmed, trying to get his sodden briefs off. His breath hitched when he saw you, and panicked cries started sputtering from his lips. "'M sorry! M'sorry.. didn't mean it, 'm not bad.. don't be mad!"