Chapter Text
For about 20 seconds, Carmen’s entire brain quits working.
Every single cell in her entire little body is working together for one reason and one reason only: pressing her up against the store’s glass window in absolute moon-eyed shock. She… she doesn’t think she’s ever seen this much Kkomi merchandise in one place, ever, and her eyes are flickering to the left and the right and the up and the down and the back again trying to identify everything in the whole window. There’s still a bunch of other random toys in the window, but there’s at least fifteen toys that are just Kkomi, Kkomi, Kkomi, and she hasn’t even seen some of them before and—
“… rmen,” Ayin is saying, amusedly, a million feet below where Carmen is sitting with her head in the clouds, “Caaaarmen. Carmen, sunshine, do you want to go inside the store?”
“D’n wanna go’n a antique stor’…” she mumbles, only half-listening. It’s true, though, she really doesn’t. She learned that lesson awhile ago — antique stores are for very boring Bigs and not for very impatient Littles, even if it was also the only place anybody sold any kind of Kkomi toys anymore. She wasn’t even allowed to play with them, because they were old, so what was really the point, even if—
“Carmen!”
Ayin says, now a fair bit closer to her, and Carmen jumps but he’s not mad at her for spacing out, or anything — he’s still smiling, like he thinks it’s very cute that Carmen is so glued to the store display that she forgot how to hear words.
“Carmen, it’s not an antique store,” he laughs — angling his head towards the dangling store sign, which indeed says nothing more than “TOYS & GAMES”. “It’s just a regular old toy store, and that is one of our errands for today. Do you wanna go inside and look?”
… it’s… it’s not?
Her ’yes’ is little more than a breathless squeak, and mercifully, Ayin does not wait any longer before gently taking her hand again to lead her inside.
Something in the back of Carmen’s head knows this store is not especially large, but everything in the front of Carmen’s head is going crazy because this is the biggest toy store she’s ever been in and Ayin just let her? He probably doesn’t know that she’s a bad Little in toy stores. Carmen resolves to behave herself as very good as humanly possible, and turns to the left, and sees everything Kkomi in the whole world, and immediately forgets her resolution and runs over to the person at the desk counter who is supposed to know everything.
”Where did you even get that?!” she says— she says very excitedly— OKAY, she yells, and the desk counter person’s eyebrows quirk up like they are both confused and also think Carmen is very cute. ”Did you get it on eBaby?! Was it a million billion Ahn?!?”
“… umm, no!” Says the desk counter person cheerfully. “We got it from the manufacturing company! I know, it’s hard to get toys from the new season ahead of time, isn’t it? Was your Big helping you look online… ?”
“U-Uh, nuh, n-no…” Carmen mumbles, gawking more than could ever be considered polite or well-mannered first at the desk person, then at the huge display of Kkomi toys, then at the desk person, then at Ayin who just gently nudges her in the direction of all the Kkomi in the world ever, like Carmen was going to make sensible, responsible choices in this situation,
“One of our errands, remember?” He says, gently, as Carmen blinks at him wide and round and nervously. “We’re here to pick out toys for you to play with.”
Carmen opens her mouth. Then closes it again. Then opens it and closes it one more time. And then makes a tiny, strangled little noise, and she is dragging Ayin towards the display with her as if clinging onto his hand is going to remind her that she lives in real life because whatever is happening to her can’t possibly be real and, and, and,
“Th, there’s Kkomi toys,” she whimpers. Whimpers? Oh, no. If she cries in the toy store she’s definitely not going to be allowed to get even one thing and, and what if these are the only Kkomi toys in the whole world and— and she lunges forward and grabs onto one soft soft soft soft Kkomi plushie and hugs it ferociously and then even if she does cry she can make, make too much of a scene to leave without a Kkomi. There.
Ayin just pets her hair, like she’s making a good choice. She doesn’t understand him sometimes.
“Oh, he’s really soft-looking.”
“Sh— She,” Carmen corrects, instantly, hugging the plushie even closer. “K-Kkomi’s a girl. She’s a girl a, and she likes baking and painting and… and, um…”
She trails off, a little bit, squinting at the display properly now and realizing that the logo is… different. She looks at the display of plushies, and, notices that the other dolls that she thought were just other random toys all seemed to be arranged here on purpose.
“… umm… and she lives in a little red house… in the forest… by herself,” she finishes, slowly. “Um. This, this isn’t… um, the tag is s’posed to say ‘Kkomi the Red Bear’, ‘yin, this one doesn’t.”
It does still say Kkomi. Carmen could tell that from a million billion miles away. But the rest of the tag doesn’t look really right, and Ayin is about to say something, but the desk counter person is walking over and says something first.
“Oh, an old-school fan, huh? This is all stuff from the newer show,” they laugh, a little bit, picking up one of the other plushies — a yellow kitten — as if to demonstrate this. “You know, the one that airs every week, on the toddler Little network?”
“Kkomi’s n-not for toddlers,” Carmen says, defensively, squeezing the bear in her arms even tighter. “Kkomi’s for big kids. I’m a big kid.”
“Well, yeah, of course! The show’s just appropriate for littler ones, too,” the counter person replies. They tilt their head. “Anyway, I guess they decided she needed some buddies, now that they’re touching up the franchise, so… now it’s Kkomi and Friends! See? This one’s Nnabi!”
Carmen squirms away from the little kitten coming a bit too close to her face. “N- No,” she insists, pushing her nose into the top of Kkomi’s head. “Kkomi doesn’t… doesn’t have any friends. She’s really smart a-and brave and knows… knows how to do things all by… herself.”
… that was how she remembered it, wasn’t it? Nobody knew who the little red bear on Carmen’s baby blanket, or backpack, or snow pants was, when she was younger, nobody at school knew what weird old television show she was watching on her little tape player at home. She didn’t need them to know. Kkomi didn’t need anybody to know, either. She lived in her little forest cabin and took care of all her chores and the only friend she ever needed was herself. She was nice to all the tiny forest creatures, but she was also so… so independent.
But now… now… Carmen stares at the display. Now… everyone knew about Kkomi? Kkomi was on real TV? There were Kkomi toys that weren’t older than her? She knows she shouldn’t be such a baby, that she’s a big kid, but it’s— something’s bothering her, she doesn’t understand. Why did they have to change Kkomi? That wasn’t fair. Now they aren’t the same anymore. Kkomi wasn’t supposed to have friends, because neither is—
“K… Kkomi’s not s’posed to,” she starts, tremulously — the desk person makes a little nervous face, and she sniffs, and she turns around to look at Ayin instead because surely he would know,
And she sees Ayin, right where she left him — right next to her. And she sees him holding a very pointy-shaped fox plush, and smiling at it, and gently stroking over its dark purple fur with his thumbs.
He looks over at her, and his smile only gets fonder.
“Aw, Carmen,” he says, as she blinks; as her breath catches in her throat. “I think it’s pretty cute. You can always show me the old one, ri… ?”
Carmen, sort of, very dimly realizes she is crying. That doesn’t really seem important, though, to her brain right now — nothing does, everything seems muddled. She’s reaching her arms up, and she’s getting picked up, and she’s burying her face in his neck, and she’s hugging Kkomi, and she’s saying something — oh. She’s saying something.
”Y— Y, Yi-iiyiiii,” she hiccups, wet and tired and minuscule, “K-Kuhh— Kkomi hhh, ha-aaas, f, friends-s-sss!”
“Yeah, sunshine,” he says; quiet like he’s figured it all out, too, like he knows what she knows now, like he sees just exactly why she’s crying pitifully into the soft bend of his neck. “She’s got friends now, doesn’t she?”
He rubs circles into her back. He doesn’t even huff about her crying getting all over his shirt. He doesn’t tell her she just missed her chance to be good.
“It’s nice to have friends, isn’t it? Even if you’re not used to it. It’s alright, sunshine. You’re alright.”
Carmen cries into his shirt, like a big baby — and he strokes her hair, and pats Kkomi’s head, and tells her she’s going to be okay.
…
…
Yiyi s’plains to the store person that she has big feelings and they didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Carmen watches, and chews on her thumb, and snuggles Kkomi, and blinks a lot ‘cos her eyes are always sore after doing crying.
Then Yiyi still lets her pick out toys, even though, even though she was bad and cried in the store and was naughty. She doesn’t really know why it’s naughty, but she knows it is, but Yiyi tells her it’s not naughty and now she doesn’t know even more. But she’s lla’llow’d to have toys, and he lets her put them in a basket, so she puts pointy fox in the basket, and a toy bus with Kkomi, and a toy treehouse with Kkomi, and a toy mi-cra-fone with Kkomi, and a toy boat with Kkomi, and then he smiles very nicely like she’s very so cute and says
”Honey, do you want to see if there’s anything Kkomi in the rest of the store, too?”
And he holds her hand and they go and look. She finds a toy choo-choo with Kkomi, and a toy tella-fone with Kkomi, but not lots else, and she makes little noises looking back at the big big big Kkomi spot. Then Yiyi squeezes her hand very nice.
”Do you think Kkomi wants to play with any other toys with you?”
Her eyes get realllly wide. Ohhhh. She can play toys with Kkomi! She looks at Kkomi’s soft fluff and floppy paws and beanie seat. Kkomi can play…
”Cooking?”
She puts little pots and pans, and little pretend food, in the basket.
”Exploring?”
She puts a little Kkomi-size red car, and kall-lye-ah-scope, in the basket.
”Space adventure?”
She puts a red helmet and a space plane and glowy-the-dark stars in the basket.
”Animal safari?”
There’s plushies and blankies in the basket and they look so soft.
”Maybe some board… oh, Carmen.”
In the basket is where all the toys go and why can’t she go too? She whines a little bit when Yiyi ups her. She rubs her eyes. He kisses her forehead and bonks it really gentle and she giggles a little, too.
”… oh, perfect! There. We can bring you home in this , can’t we, sunshine?”
Yiyi puts her in a big, big, little red Kkomi wagon. A wagon! It rolls! And the toys go in the wagon, too! She bounces in her seat and grabbies and Yiyi puts a strap over her lap and gives her a big squishy dinosaur to hold and she bites its nose and it squeaks and Yiyi’s talkin’ to the person and she doesn’t care at all. There’s toys in her wagon an’ Kkomi an’ she’s chewin’ an’ the person gives her a paper sticky with a Kkomi on it an’ Yiyi holds it for her ‘cos he’s so nice. Uhhuh.
”C’mon, sunshine, let’s get you home, hmm?”
Yiyi smiles at her while they’re going bump-bump-bump right home. She smiles back.
”… I think it’s gonna be like Christmas when you come back around and figure out how much Yiyi added to that basket… well. It’s okay. You needed some spoiling, didn’t you? Ben’ll understand…”
Benjie… Carmen chews pensively. Benjie… something about… oh!
“Yiyi!!”
”Ah! Yeeees, my little sunshine?”
“Yiyi! Be’jjy g’nna— g’nna p’yay t’dday!!”
”Ohh, that’s right! Benjie said he’d play with you today, didn’t he! What are you going to play?”
Carmen beams.
”Kkomi di’yosaur!!!”
And when Yiyi laughs, he sounds so happy, he could pop.
“Carmen…”
Ayin tries — he stops, starts, stops, and sighs a little. Not out of frustration, no; just out of concern.
“No. No no no no!”
“I’m not touching anything right now,” he soothes, and Carmen huffs and crosses her arms and squirms where she’s sat on the floor, ahead of the couch, with her damp hair pouring in its usual matted state down her back.
“Nooooo,” she moans, wrung-out and tired and scared and— and scared. Ah.
Ah.
Ayin sees long hair and tangles and a Little who doesn’t understand that his attention is all for her, sometimes, and everything falls into place.
“I won’t pull your hair,” he says, honestly, true. “Carmen, I won’t. If it hurts, you tell me to stop and I’ll stop. Remember the nice shampoo we used?”
“… ‘s red,” Carmen sniffles. She already sounds wobbly again, and he’s no expert in Littles, certainly, but…
… he knows that she was not twelve at the toy store, and only close to it while running his partner corner to corner across the apartment, and now after her bath, already sliding away from it again…
(They really, really need to make that appointment with a Classifier.)
“Mmhm, the red one,” is what he says, gently and carefully rubbing her shoulders, smiling a little bit as she relaxes into his hands. “It’s special for Littles, remember? It’s made to make your hair very easy to brush.”
He pauses.
“And it’s the real kind,” he continues, firmly, “Benjamin bought it right from the hairdresser’s.”
Carmen relaxes further. He thinks some very choice and unkind words in the general direction of the care home that he is ever-more realizing just how much he rescued her from.
“So can you let me try to brush your tangles out? If it still hurts, sweetheart, we don’t have to keep trying tonight. But I want to try a little bit now.”
He takes a breath, mulls it between his teeth.
“I... I do have a surprise for you,” he continues, slowly, “If we can get through brushing your hair. If we can’t tonight, you won’t lose it, okay? We’ll just wait until we can brush it safely, and then you can have it. That’s all.”
Carmen is still very quiet, and she is leaned very heavily into his hands. He half wonders if she’s fallen asleep, all tired out from her day, but then she sighs, fuzzily, and looks back towards him, blinking long and slow.
“… o—okay,” she murmurs, careful, but — trusting. “You… you can try. No p-pulling.”
“No pulling,” he replies, as soothingly as he can. She sighs again. “You just let me know if it hurts, and I’ll stop right away.”
“Mmhkay,” she mumbles, and he takes a breath — takes the brush — and slowly, gently, carefully starts to brush out her hair.
He needs to make sure it doesn’t tug her scalp; he’s certain that’s the part that’s given her so much grief, so he positions his hands to keep the bit he’s working on slack. Short strokes to start — longer once the tangles are cleared out. It’s sort of meditative, really, and the shampoo really does work; her hair is baby-soft, parting easily under the brush, smelling of strawberry and watermelon, cherry and honey and rust beneath.
(He can already smell her again. Little, Little, much more Little than her extraordinarily paginated file reported. They already got everything else wrong about his sunshine, why would the amount of Littleness in her be exempt from this?)
“Is this okay?” He asks, softly, instead. Carmen goes mmh and makes a little noise like she might have her fingers in her mouth.
(Not even close to twelve.)
“Good. You’re being very, very good for me, sweetheart, thank you so much.”
Carmen sighs happily, relaxes further and further into him, the easier and smoother it gets to run the brush through her hair, the softer she gets. She’s practically nuzzled into his shins by the time he’s truly done — her hair must be an inch and a half longer now, shiny and healthy and soft and he wants to roll her up in a little blanket and bury his face in it and keep them in bed for the rest of the weekend.
Maybe at least the rest of the night.
“S’prise?” She murmurs, eyelids fluttering as she looks up at him. He melts.
“Sunshine, of course. Clo— cover your eyes,” he amends, realizing she might just nod off if he has her shut them, and she lazily nods, putting both hands over her eyes with a hum.
He brushes her hair back again, gathering it gently in one hand, then winding a hair tie around the bundle with his other. Carefully — he doesn’t want it to pull — and he gathers her into his arms when he’s finished, tucking her head under his chin as he walks them back to the bathroom to use the mirror.
Carmen peeks through her fingers, a little impatient — then drops her hands entirely, drowsy eyes going wide.
“… Kkomi… ?”
“It’s not a very big surprise,” Ayin admits, playing gently with the end of her newly-made ponytail as she stares, moon-eyed, at the little red bear now peeking out of her hair. “I just thought… you know, you having to push your hair out of your way so much. A hair tie might help. And, um, well. Now that I know who the little bear on your blanket is…”
Now she stares at him. Shocked.
“… you… you know,” she stammers, “On my blanki— et?”
“Of course,” he says, soft, fond. “Carmen, I don’t think it’s a huge genius move of me to notice the little red bear on your blanket matches the little red bear from your new toy— oof!”
She’s wrapped her arms around his shoulders again; buried her face in his neck. She isn’t fully shaking with sobs, this time, but her grip is still very tight.
He tightens his arms around her, too.
(It shouldn’t be a genius move that I noticed what her favorite is.)
“… ‘yin, ‘s— ‘s be’time,” she mumbles, voice wet. Sniffling. He nods.
“Sure is. Let’s go get you tucked in, alright?”
“… okay,” she whispers, sounding nearly lost.
And, Wings. Ayin wants nothing more badly in the world but to find her.
…
(“P… Put it back in?” Carmen sniffles. “In the, in the morning?”
“Every day, if you want me to,” Ayin promises, tucking the comforter up to her chin.
He kisses her on the forehead.
He does it for her every day, for the rest of his life.)