The Hive

Chapter 9
Chapter 8

The scream tore through the morning stillness.

High-pitched, piercing, full of surprise, it rudely yanked Benjamin from his restless sleep, making him sit bolt upright in bed.

Then another cry joined the first, a girlish voice with notes of delight:

"Oh! Oh! Look, I'm little!"

"Michael and Amelia," came a calm voice from very close by. "Looks like morning surprises have caught up with everyone."

Benjamin practically jumped out of bed in shock and spun toward the source of the voice. On the neighboring bed, pushed up against his own—which definitely hadn't been there the night before—sat Lucas. The boy was rubbing his eyes and yawning, his hair sticking up in all directions, giving him the appearance of a disheveled sparrow. His rocket-print pajamas had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a thin collarbone.

"What... why are you here?" Benjamin blurted out, feeling his voice crack. He coughed, trying to clear his throat after sleep.

Lucas shrugged, but looked away—a gesture Benjamin had already learned to recognize as a sign of embarrassment.

"I asked Aunt Sara yesterday. When you were already asleep. I said that..."

He hesitated, starting to fidget with the edge of his blanket. His cheeks turned pink—a childish blush, uncontrollable and genuine.

"What did you say?"

Another cough.

"That I had nightmares after the 'special milk.' About monsters. About... about dark corridors and doors that won't open. And I thought if I didn't sleep alone, maybe I'd feel calmer."

The lie was so obvious, so childishly clumsy, that Benjamin almost smiled. Lucas lied like a child—stumbling, getting tangled in details, blushing with every word.

Benjamin tried to get out of bed, but his feet didn't reach the floor—they dangled in the air.

Everything was wrong. Everything was higher. Much higher.

The dresser that yesterday reached his chest now towered almost level with his head. The door handle was at shoulder height. The window he'd looked through standing yesterday now required something to stand on.

"No," he breathed, and his voice completely betrayed him. High, ringing, unmistakably childish. "No, no, no..."

Lucas jumped off his bed and came closer. Now the difference in height was shockingly obvious—he towered over Benjamin by a whole head, maybe more.

"Don't panic," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. The hand seemed large, almost adult. "This happens to everyone. Physical regression continues. I warned you that after the enhanced dose..."

"How much?" Benjamin looked at his hands. Small, with plump childish fingers, pink and clean nails. "How old do I look now? Visually?"

Lucas walked around him in a circle, tilting his head appraisingly from side to side.

"Eight. Maybe nine at best. You've shrunk... significantly. Overnight."

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. Just yesterday they'd been almost peers in appearance—two pre-teen boys. Today...

"Benji, you look like my little brother now," Lucas finished quietly, and there was something strange in his voice. Not pity—something more complex. "Little brother."

Benjamin wanted to answer, but the door burst open with such force it hit the wall. Sara rushed into the room with an alarmed expression. Her robe was hastily thrown over her nightgown, hair escaping from her usually neat bun.

"Boys, are you alright? Not scared? I heard screams and..."

She broke off, seeing Benjamin. Her eyes widened for a split second—a professional caught off guard.

"Oh, honey. You've... the process has accelerated."

"We're fine, Aunt Sara," Lucas answered in that obedient tone he used with adults. "It's Amelia and Michael? Physical regression has started, right?"

"Yes, sometimes transformation happens in leaps. Especially for those who are... receptive." She approached, crouching down before Benjamin. "How are you feeling, sunshine?"

"Sunshine." Yesterday she'd called him Benjamin.

"I'm... confused," he admitted, his thin voice making the admission even more pitiful.

"Don't worry, everything's fine. Get dressed and come down for breakfast. The others need support too."

She was already turning toward the door but stopped, glancing at the two pushed-together beds.

"And Lucas? Thank you for looking after Benjamin during the night. That was very... diligent of you."

There was something strange in her voice. Not approval—more like wariness, carefully masked as gratitude.

"It's my job, Aunt Sara. Helping new guests."

"Of course. Your job." She emphasized the last word, leaving the room.

Benjamin took a step, swaying to the side as if on a ship's deck.

Lucas caught him by the elbow.

"Careful. The first morning in a new size is always disorienting. Center of gravity, proportions, all that. You'll stumble, drop things, miss door handles."

"How do you know?"

"Experience," Lucas answered shortly. "Come on, we need to wash up and get dressed."

The pink unicorn toothbrush fit perfectly in his small palm—what had recently seemed like a child's toy was now just right.

Benjamin brushed carefully, afraid to look in the mirror, but eventually curiosity won. He looked up.

A boy stared back from the mirror. Round face, big eyes, chubby cheeks. His features, recognizable, but twenty years younger.

"Hey, you didn't drown in there?" Lucas knocked on the door. "Sara will start worrying if we're late for breakfast."

Benjamin came out, still stunned by what he'd seen. Lucas was already dressed—the usual uniform t-shirt with a bee, jeans. Next to him, Benjamin felt tiny.

His new clothes were already laid out on the bed—a t-shirt with bright robots, jeans with an elastic waistband, dinosaur socks. Everything screamed about the owner's age.

"I'm not wearing this," Benjamin began, but even his protest sounded childishly petulant.

"You will. Your yesterday's clothes are hanging on you like a sack now. Come on, I'll help."

Without waiting for agreement, Lucas pulled the t-shirt over his head.

"There, now your arms!"

"Lucas... don't..."

"Sorry," the boy replied. "I got a bit... carried away..."

The diaper under the clothes seemed even bulkier on his diminished body. The jeans hid it rather unsuccessfully, and Benjamin was acutely aware of its presence with every movement.

When they went out into the corridor, Lucas extended his hand. Benjamin looked at him with a hint of offense.

"Don't be stubborn. Stairs will seem steeper. Distances—bigger. This isn't weakness—it's necessity."

The corridor did look different. Wider, longer, almost threateningly endless. Pictures on the walls hung higher, doors seemed more massive. Benjamin took the offered hand, trying not to think about how this looked from the outside—the older leading the younger.

On the stairs, another sight awaited them.

Amelia stood on the top step, gripping the railings with both hands. Her physical transformation was even more radical—from an adult woman, she had turned into a skinny girl of about ten. Angular elbows and knees, long legs she hadn't yet learned to control.

"Aunt Sara, the stairs have become huge!" she exclaimed with childish amazement. "I'm like Alice now, who drank the shrinking potion!"

Sara stood nearby, patiently supporting her by the elbow.

"You've just become the right size, dear. Now your body matches your inner age."

"Really?" Amelia looked at her small hands with curiosity. "Oh, and my shoes are huge now! Can I have new ones, with bows?"

They carefully slipped past Amelia and headed down.

"This really isn't easy," said Benjamin, carefully moving his feet from step to step. His walk was very toddler-like now.

"Yeah, what did I tell you," Lucas held his hand. "If you feel like you're going to fall, try to land on your bottom, it's soft now," he joked.

"Lucas!" Benjamin blushed, looked up at his friend and froze. In his eyes, he didn't see the expected pain or sadness, but only... care? A genuine desire to help and...

"What?" Lucas asked worriedly.

"I... No... everything's fine..."

"Sure? Maybe we should go back to the room and I'll bring you lunch there?"

"No, don't... everything's fine."

"Well, as you wish."

And they continued on.

At the dining room entrance, Benjamin stopped.

"Listen, why is it that... I was getting younger gradually... But Amelia lost several decades literally overnight?"

"Hard to say," the boy answered. "Generally, it's considered that the hardest and longest is mental regression, and the body... The body is just a shell."

"So I still have to go through all this?"

Lucas silently nodded, and Benjamin immediately darkened.

The dining room was in chaos.

Michael sat at the table, but Benjamin didn't recognize him at first. The plump middle-aged man had turned into a chubby boy of five or six. Round cheeks, small chubby fingers with which he was delightedly examining a spoon.

"Look, look!" he shouted joyfully, waving his arms. "I'm little now! Just like I wanted! Aunt Sara, did the magic work?"

Around his neck hung a bright bib with cars, which he proudly adjusted.

"Now I can play with little cars! And they'll be just right for my hands!"

Eleanor Hart stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder.

"You were always like this inside, dear. Now you're just the same on the outside too."

"Hurray!" Michael clapped his hands. "Can I have more porridge? With honey? Please-please!"

But the real shock awaited them at the neighboring table.

Robert...

Benjamin froze, not believing his eyes. In a high chair sat a toddler. A tiny child of three, maybe younger. Thin light hair, huge blue eyes, chubby cheeks. He was concentratedly poking at porridge with a spoon he held in his whole fist, periodically missing his mouth.

"God," Benjamin breathed. "This is... this is impossible."

"Don't stare," Lucas warned, directing him to their seats. "For him, this is reality. Don't make it harder with your horror."

A chair with a booster cushion had been prepared for Benjamin. Humiliating, but necessary—a regular chair would have been too low, the edge of the table would have reached his chin.

As soon as they sat down, Lucas deftly switched their plates.

"What are you doing?"

"Regular oatmeal without additives for you, honey porridge for me. Eat quickly and don't attract attention."

"But it's harmful for you too..."

"I'm used to it. My body has adapted. But you still have a chance to slow the process. Every day without honey is time gained."

"Lucas," Eleanor Hart's voice made them both flinch. "What are you doing?"

She stood right behind them. How had she approached so quietly?

"Nothing special, Miss Hart. It's just that Benji doesn't like things too sweet in the morning. Sensitive stomach after yesterday."

"Benji?" her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. "How sweet. Have you become friends?"

There was something strange in her voice, hidden under a layer of maternal care.

"Yes, Miss Hart, Lucas is my friend," Benjamin interjected, but his words seemed to interest her little.

"I'm helping him adapt. As you asked—support for newcomers."

"Of course. Support is wonderful. But remember, Lucas—too close attachments... however, I think right now this is exactly what Benji needs."

She walked away, but Benjamin felt her gaze on his back.

After breakfast, creative time was announced. In the playroom, tables were already covered with large sheets of paper, pencils, markers, and paints laid out.

"Today we're drawing what we want most in the world!" Sara announced with kindergarten teacher enthusiasm. "Close your eyes, imagine your most cherished wish and transfer it to paper!"

Amelia sat at the table and took a pencil. Her hand trembled—fine motor skills had clearly suffered along with the shrinking. She tried to draw something resembling a castle, but it came out crooked, childishly clumsy.

Michael snorted over his drawing, sticking out the tip of his tongue with effort. On the paper appeared something between a car and a dinosaur—perception of space and proportions had regressed along with the body.

Robert just moved colored pencils across the paper, leaving chaotic lines and scribbles. Sometimes he hummed something to himself—a disconnected melody without words.

"Let's do it together," Lucas suggested, moving his chair closer to Benjamin's. "We'll draw a story. Like a picture book."

"What story?"

"Any. Just start drawing, the story will come by itself."

Lucas took a pencil and began sketching outlines. A hill, a winding path, a house on top. The movements were confident—he'd clearly drawn before.

Benjamin added a tree next to the house. Big, with a spreading crown. Then another. Then a small river at the bottom of the hill.

"And who's this?" he asked, looking at two figures that appeared on the path under Lucas's hand.

"Travelers. Brothers. Older and younger. They're going home after a long journey."

"Where are they coming from?"

"From the forest. See?" Lucas began adding trees in the background. "They got lost, searched for the way for a long time. But the older brother remembered the path, and he led the younger one out."

They drew in silence, passing pencils to each other. The story on paper grew with details—a bridge over the river, birds in the sky, flowers along the road. But the center remained the two figures walking hand in hand.

"What a sweet picture!" Sara looked over their shoulders. "Are these brothers?"

"Yes," Lucas quickly answered.

"Wonderful. And where are they going? To the house on the hill?"

"Home," Benjamin said without thinking. "They got lost and are looking for the way home."

Sara stroked his head.

"But they're almost home. There it is, the house. Just a little bit left."

"That's not their home," Benjamin said stubbornly. "It's just... a house. Someone else's."

An awkward pause hung in the air. Then Sara smiled.

"Continue, boys."

When she walked away, Lucas leaned closer.

"Be careful with words. They don't like it when people talk about 'another home.'"

After creativity—mandatory walk in the garden. "Fresh air is necessary for growing organisms," Sara said, dressing Robert in a jacket that hung on him like a sack.

"Who would have thought that our Robbie would regress so quickly that the nanny wouldn't have time to pick out clothes for him," Sara said, addressing the boy.

Robert looked at her uncomprehendingly; apparently, such long words were now very difficult and incomprehensible for him.

"I'm proud of you, baby," Sara said and kissed the boy on the nose, which made him smile and giggle.

During the walk, Lucas waited for the right moment and, when Sara got distracted by the "little ones," grabbed Benjamin's hand and dragged him to the far part of the garden to the old apple trees.

"They won't see us here," he said, looking around. "The trees are thick, and Sara usually watches the little ones. I mean... Michael and Robert."

They climbed into the thickest part of the small garden, which now seemed even denser than before. Branches closed above their heads, creating a green tent. Sunlight broke through the leaves, painting spots on the grass.

"Want a real apple?" Lucas asked. "Without honey, without additives. Just an apple."

Benjamin nodded. He was constantly hungry—the changed body demanded energy, as if trying to catch up with itself.

Lucas nimbly climbed the tree. He moved confidently, knowing exactly which branch would hold and which wouldn't. He picked two red apples, checked for worms, jumped down with feline grace.

"Here you go, little one."

"Little one." From anyone else, it would have sounded offensive, humiliating. From Lucas—almost tender, with that intonation older brothers use.

They sat right on the grass, leaning their backs against the trunk. The apples were sweet with a slight tartness, juice ran down their chins. Real taste, not masked by omnipresent honey.

"You know," Benjamin began, taking a small bite, "I always wanted an older brother. In childhood. In real childhood."

"Why?" Lucas turned to him, genuinely interested.

"Parents were always working. Came home late, tired. Nannies changed every few months—either the salary didn't suit them, or I was 'too difficult a child.' I sat in my room for hours, making up stories. And in each one there was an older brother. We traveled together, had adventures, he protected me from monsters under the bed..."

Lucas listened silently, occasionally nodding.

"And once," Benjamin continued, "I was about seven, I even wrote a letter to Santa. Asked not for toys, not for a construction set. I asked for a brother. Thought if I asked really hard..."

"And what did your parents say?"

"Said Santa doesn't bring brothers. They bought a big teddy bear."

Lucas smiled—sadly, understandingly.

"And I..." he began and fell silent, choosing words. "I also wanted something in childhood."

"What?"

"Not to be an adult," Lucas breathed out. "Sounds stupid, right? All children want to grow up quickly. But I looked at my parents—always tired, always stressed, always 'not now, later, not now'—and thought: is this all? Does growing up mean becoming like that?"

He plucked a blade of grass, began methodically tearing it into small pieces.

"And here's the irony of fate—I got my wish. Forever remained a child. Only it turned out to be not a fairy tale, but..." he didn't finish.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? It's not your fault. Nobody's fault. We all just... looked for a way out. And found it here. Only the exit turned out to be an entrance with no way back."

They sat in silence, finishing the apples. Then Lucas stood up, brushed off his jeans.

"Come on, I'll show you something. My secret."

He led Benjamin by roundabout paths, through rosehip thickets, past an old greenhouse with broken glass. Behind the greenhouse, almost completely hidden by overgrown bushes, stood a small shed.

"Nobody comes here," Lucas explained, removing the rusty lock. "Old tools, nobody needs them. Sara thinks I store garden equipment here."

Inside it smelled of earth, rusty iron, and dampness. In the corner under old burlap, something was hidden.

"My emergency stash," Lucas threw back the fabric.

There was a box with canned goods, several bottles of water, a pack of cookies, even a small folding knife.

"I collected bit by bit. In case I... decide. Now you know where it is. If something happens—take it without asking."

"Thank you," Benjamin said, understanding that he'd just been shared with the most precious thing.

Lucas pulled a handful of cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket.

"Stole from the pantry this morning. Regular, no additives."

They sat right on the earthen floor, backs against the wall. The cookies were simple, even stale, but to Benjamin they seemed tastier than any delicacies.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked between bites. "Taking risks. If they find out..."

"Because..." Lucas was silent for a long time, choosing words. "Three years I've been here. Three years watching people arrive broken, and then... change. Become different. Forget who they were. And this is considered success. Healing. And I watch and think—is this healing or final death?"

He turned to Benjamin, and in the semi-darkness of the shed his eyes seemed very adult.

"But you still remember. Still fighting. Still remaining yourself, despite..." he gestured at Benjamin's diminished figure. "And you see me. Not a broken toy, not an eternal child, not a 'special case.' Just me. That's worth a lot."

"You're my friend," Benjamin said simply.

"People don't become friends in six days."

"But we did. Time flows differently here. Six days like six years. Or sixty."

Lucas smiled—shyly, almost bashfully. There was so much warmth in that smile that the small shed stopped seeming gloomy for a moment.

Outside, a bell rang—signal for the end of the walk.

On the way back, Benjamin felt a strange tingling in his mouth. A metallic taste. He carefully touched his front tooth with his tongue.

Loose.

"Lucas..."

He turned, saw the expression on his face—a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"Oh no. Already? This is early, even for an enhanced dose."

"What... what does this mean?"

"Baby teeth. During regression, the body... restructures. Completely. Including teeth. I had it too..."

He smiled widely and pulled his cheek with a finger, showing an uneven row—a strange mixture of baby and permanent teeth, like a child during the transition period.

"See? And nothing, I'm alive. Doesn't hurt. Just... strange."

At lunch, Benjamin ate as carefully as possible, trying to chew with his back teeth. Soup, mashed potatoes, soft vegetables—the menu seemed designed with possible problems in mind. Sara knew. Of course she knew.

Lucas sat next to him, occasionally touching his elbow—a silent reminder that he wasn't alone in this nightmare.

"Quiet hour!" Sara announced after dessert. "Everyone upstairs, get ready for sleep!"

"Don't want to sleep!" Amelia traditionally whined, but immediately yawned, covering her mouth with her palm. The protest of a ten-year-old girl looked almost cute. "I'm an adult!"

"All adults sometimes sleep during the day," Sara gently replied. "It's called a siesta. Very good for the body."

In their now shared room, they changed into pajamas. Benjamin tried not to look at Lucas, embarrassed by his diminished body. The pajamas with spaceships, which had been too big yesterday, fit perfectly today.

And then it happened.

He just exhaled—and felt the tooth slip out. Without pain, without blood. Just fell onto his tongue, leaving a strange emptiness and metallic taste.

A small white square on his palm. So ordinary and so terrifying. Irrefutable proof of the process's irreversibility.

"No, no, no..." panic came in waves, squeezing his throat.

Lucas was instantly beside him, hugging from behind, holding tightly.

"Quiet. Breathe. Slowly, deeply. This isn't the end of the world."

"These are my teeth! My adult teeth! They're falling out!"

"Which no longer match your new body. Listen to me—panic will only accelerate the changes. Honey reacts to stress. Breathe."

But tears were already flowing. Fear, acute awareness that there was no way back—everything mixed into one lump in his throat.

"Can I..." Benjamin sobbed. "Can I sleep with you? Please?"

"Of course. Come here."

Lucas helped him climb into his bed, covered him with a blanket, lay down beside him. Hugged carefully, as if something fragile.

"Want a secret?" he whispered. "I cried too when the first tooth fell out. Sobbed like... well, like a baby. For two hours. Sara found me curled up under the bed."

"Really?"

"Really. And then the second fell out, the third... And you know what? It got easier with each one. Not because I got used to it. But because I understood—this body is temporary. Like a costume. But the real me is here," he lightly touched Benjamin's chest near his heart. "And as long as you remember who you really are, body size doesn't matter."

"I don't want to forget!"

"You won't forget. I won't let you. I promise."

The door quietly opened. Sara looked in, saw them in one bed—Benjamin curled up in a ball with the tooth clenched in his fist, and Lucas hugging him.

"Oh, boys... First tooth?"

Benjamin nodded without raising his head.

"It's an important milestone. A sign that the body is accepting the changes. Do you want to put it under your pillow? For the tooth fairy?"

"No," Benjamin mumbled into Lucas's shoulder.

"Alright, honey. You can keep it. As a memory. Rest now. Lucas can stay with you if it helps. Sometimes... sometimes we all need someone nearby."

There was something new in her voice. Understanding? Sadness? She quietly closed the door.

"Thank you," Benjamin whispered when the footsteps faded. "For everything. For the apples. For the cookies. For not leaving me alone in this nightmare."

"This isn't a nightmare," Lucas answered just as quietly. "A nightmare is when you're alone. But there are two of us. And that changes everything."

Sleep came unexpectedly peaceful. No transformations, no fields with golden grass. Just the warmth of another person nearby and a strange feeling of security—like in childhood, when you climbed into your parents' bed after a bad dream.

Sara woke them, gently shaking their shoulders.

"Boys, time to get up. Snack time soon."

She didn't comment on them sleeping in each other's arms. Just stroked both their heads—a gesture so maternal that Benjamin momentarily gave in to the illusion of safety.

At snack time, Amelia demonstrated with undisguised pride the result of an hour's effort—a crooked braid on a doll.

"Look! I did it myself! Aunt Sara showed me, but I braided it myself! By myself!"

She beamed with pride, waving the doll so the braid flew.

Michael clapped his hands, Robert babbled something joyfully.

"Well done, Amelia," said Lucas. "Beautiful braid."

"Really?" she blushed from the praise.

"Beautiful! Amelia did great! I want a doll too! Can I, Aunt Sara?" Michael asked.

Benjamin watched this scene with a strange feeling. On one hand—horror. On the other...

He had never seen Amelia so happy.

After snack time, Lucas was called to Miss Hart. He rose from the table with a stone face, but Benjamin noticed his fingers trembling.

"I'll come with you," he said.

"No. That will only make things worse. Do something. Put together a puzzle or read a book. Act like you're adapting normally."

He had to wait over an hour. Benjamin mechanically assembled a puzzle with a fire truck, but his thoughts were far away. What if Eleanor decided to separate them? What if she applied "enhanced measures" to Lucas? What if...

Lucas returned pale but outwardly calm. He sat down, took several puzzle pieces.

"What did she want?"

"To warn. That our friendship is becoming an 'unhealthy attachment.' That I'm hindering your proper adaptation with my 'negative influence.' That if I continue..."

"What?"

"They'll apply special measures. To both of us. Separate accommodation is the minimum. Maximum..." he didn't finish.

"What will we do?"

"In front of everyone—keep our distance. I'm just doing my helper job. No special closeness. Professional politeness."

"And in private?"

"In private we remain who we are. Brothers in misfortune. Or just... brothers."

The rest of the day they tried not to attract attention. They played in different corners of the room, sat on different sides of the table at dinner. But their gazes met—quick exchanges of support, silent questions "how are you?" and answers "hanging in there."

Evening bathing had become routine. Benjamin no longer resisted when Sara washed his hair, checked behind his ears. What was the point of clinging to dignity when your body betrayed you with every hour?

"You have another loose tooth," she noticed, helping him dry off. "It'll probably fall out tomorrow. That's good—means the process is going correctly."

"Correctly." Correct for whom?

Before bed, already in their beds, they whispered in the darkness.

"Lucas?"

"Mm?"

"How much time do we have? Before it's... too late?"

A long pause. Then quietly:

"I don't know. Everyone's different. You're strong—maybe a week. Maybe two. But sooner or later..."

"I understand."

"No, you don't. But that's normal. Nobody understands until they go through it."

"Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"Coming here three years ago."

Another pause, longer.

"Sometimes. When I remember who I was. What I lost. But then I look at Robert—he's happy. Truly happy. Maybe that's the answer? Forget and be happy?"

"You don't think that."

"No. But sometimes I want to think that. It would be easier."

"Why did you really ask to move into my room?"

A quiet laugh came from the darkness.

"You want the truth? Not about nightmares and monsters?"

"Yes."

"Because when you're near, I feel needed. Not Sara's tool, not Hart's exhibit, not a broken toy. Just... needed. Important to someone. I'd forgotten that feeling long ago."

"You're important to me. Very important."

"I know. Thank you."

In the darkness, their hands found each other across the gap between beds. Children's fingers intertwined, holding tight, as if that could stop time.

Under Benjamin's pillow lay the fallen tooth—a small white reminder of who he'd been just this morning. But that seemed unimportant now.

What was important was different. The warmth of a friend's hand. Steady breathing nearby. Knowing that morning, whatever it brought, he wouldn't meet it alone.