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miniscule-meow · 2 months ago

Note

I spend way more time thinking about other people’s stories than writing my own, but….

I know Felix can grow, can he shrink as well? How would Charlie read to that?

In canon, no Felix can't shrink.

If he could, he would rather die before shrinking in front of anyone else. I feel like he wouldn't even want to talk about it.

---

"Can you get small too?" Charlie asks curiously.

"I don't do that," is Felix's flat reply

"don't, or can't?"

He doesn't dignify that with a response.

"Okay, cool. That's not something we talk about, got it."

---

But if it was unavoidable...

Wordcount: 2.3k

It begins as a mild pressure in his skull, growing into an electricity that trickles down his spine. It’s similar to how he feels when he grows, but much more unsettling. He tries to shrug it off, but the heaviness of it clings to him, threatening to pull him into himself.

He hates it.

Felix clenches his jaw, doing everything he can to push back against the building pressure. Maybe if he could grow, just a little bit, then he could assert himself in his regular size, he reasons with himself. He reaches out with his ability, an attempt to turn the tides here. But it’s no use. The effort is met with a sharp stab of pain behind his eyes, strong enough to stagger him. His pulse kicks up, alarmed by the solid wall cutting him off from his growth ability.

He looks around the busy cafeteria. Of course he’s in public when his ability decides to go haywire. Charlie is in line at the campus Panda Express, he was saving them a table. He waves, and though she’s across the room, he manages to catch her eye. She smiles at him before making out the urgency of his expression. She ditches the line and heads over his way.

He tries forcing his breath to deepen, keeping himself calm, digging his nails into his palms. He just needs to hold on for a little bit longer. But he can’t. In the blink of an eye, he buckles to his knees, succumbing to the pressure surrounding him. He looks down at his hands, pressed against the tile floor. This can’t be happening right now. He’s tiny.

There is no time to acclimate, he’s in the pathway between tables. No one was paying him any mind. But then again, not being noticed might not actually be a stroke of good luck right now. Footsteps thunder towards him. A worn sneaker slams into the ground right beside him, the force of it sends him sprawling across the floor. Felix rolls out of the walkway, before anyone else can walk by and trample him. There is so much noise, so much movement. It’s so overwhelming, his world feels like it’s going to shatter.

He dives underneath the table right as Charlie arrives. She takes a seat, tentatively. She’s probably confused, maybe nervous, wondering where he ran off to. His bag is still on the table, along with his phone, so hopefully she doesn’t think he ditched her.

He watches, clinging to the leg of the table, as she tucks her feet under the chair, crossing them at her ankles. She wears faded yellow Converse high-tops with embroidered little flowers all along the sides. The stitches are uneven and worn, she might have done that herself.

He needs to get her attention. He knows that, but to do it would require him to force his limbs to move first. He’s stuck, stiffly cowering in the shadow of the table. His friend is so close, and yet she somehow seems worlds away. Felix grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His lungs feel as if they’re on fire, and filling with water all at the same time. His vision blurs at the edges, like the world is constricting around him. He can’t focus. He can’t breathe.

This is his worst nightmare, come true. He avoids shrinking like the plague, and he’s certainly never done it in public. He’s never felt like this before, like his entire world is crumbling around him, and he doesn’t know how to pick up the pieces.

Out of nothing less than desperation, he forces himself forward. Each staggered step feels like he’s carrying a thousand pounds with him. Dread pools in his stomach as he reaches out, placing both hands against her ankle, and shoving.

Charlie jumps beneath his touch. The movement is small, but it’s enough to knock him off his feet. He scrambles backwards, terror igniting inside him as the chair scrapes against the floor. Propped on his elbows, he looks straight up to find Charlie absolutely filling his sky. She jolts at the sight of him on the floor, leaning in to get a better look at him. Her blonde curls fall over her shoulders and into her face as she looks down at him.

“Felix?” She whispers in disbelief, her eyes wide. He feels so exposed, so vulnerable. He opens his mouth, but he can’t get his words to work. “You look like you’re about to pass out,” she observes aloud. Concern floods her expression, followed by uncertainty. She towers over him, eclipsing him entirely in her shadow, and yet she’s looking at him like she’s waiting for instructions.

With a ragged breath he croaks out, “Help. Please.” The words are bitter on his tongue. Pathetic.

Charlie doesn’t say anything else, just nods. She crouches down on the floor and reaches towards him. He can’t stop his body from jerking backwards at the movement of something so massive coming towards him. Her fingers hesitate before him.

“You’re okay,” he hates how sympathetic she sounds, like she’s calming a child. “I need to pick you up. I’ve got you, okay?”

The words would be reassuring, but he can only focus on his fear and his shame coiling together inside of him, working in tandem to choke him out completely. Digging his nails back into the meat of his palms, he bobs his head sharply, willing her to just get it over with.

She moves slowly. He wants to close his eyes, but somehow that seems worse. He forces himself to watch as Charlie’s hands surround him. The tip of her finger is the size of his face. He can see every intricate swirl of her fingerprints. Is this how people see him? Is this how she has seen him? He has a newfound respect for Charlie, and her bravery, and he feels another stab of guilt for how he lashed out at her the first time she saw his ability.

Thoughts are flying into his brain so quickly, they mush together into indiscernible static. Only one thought manages to ring out, over the noise of the room, and the noise in his brain. ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.’

At last, she pulls in into her hands. The leathery flesh of her palm barely dips beneath his inconsequential weight. Her thumb pulls in, securing across his midsection, and pinning him into places against her fingers. He finally looks up at her. Her eyes are shining with disbelief and awe. Her breath hitches as she holds him. He knows that feeling, he’s been there. He’s never experienced it from the other side before. So far, he can’t say that he’s a fan.

Like an elevator from hell, she picks him up, tucking him against her side, concealing him from view under her unbuttoned flannel. She quickly gathers all of their things and rushes out of the University Cafeteria.

The world is muffled slightly, through the flesh of her hand, through the fabric of her flannel. The scale is mind-bending. Something that must feel insignificant to her, entirely surrounds him. He’s overwhelmed by their closeness, by the petrichor scent that clings to her. He understands now how she could feel as though they were snuggling when all he had done was let her rest in the crook of his arm.

Her footfalls explode through him as she rushes up a flight of stairs. She keeps him pressed snug to her side. Her thumb remains securely pressed across his middle, her fingers curling around him. He feels less like a person, and more like a lizard she caught in the woods. He looks at the fingers surrounding him, trying to remember how to breathe. Her fingernails were painted with a warm honey-yellow color some time ago, they’re all chipped now. It’s amazing how easy it is to miss all the little details about someone.

When she pulls him out into the open, they’re alone in her dorm. She sets him down on her desk. The surface is suspended somewhere between tidy and neat; it’s an organized chaos. Notebooks are piled atop her laptop, contained to one side of the desk. Gel pens and highlighters are spread randomly across the surface. Behind him, there’s a ceramic cup holding pencils, it looks handmade, hand painted. The pencil cup is about as tall as he is, his stomach lurches at that. Beyond the desk, the concrete wall behind Charlie is covered in drawings of plants, pictures of her and her brothers, national park posters and other miscellaneous decorations. The room is cast in the warm light of white Christmas lights, rather than the blaring fluorescent overhead lights. She’s got a frog stuffed animal resting against her pillows. Her sage green bedspread is tossed haphazardly over the mattress, as if she had made a semi-attempt at making the bed that morning. Though the quiet in the room is like a breath of fresh air, everything is just so big, it makes him dizzy all over again.

Charlie takes a step back after she sets him down. Despite the distance she’s placed between them, she manages to loom over him. He’s not used to looking straight up to see someone. Her eyes are locked on him, all encompassing. There’s no escape. He supposes he isn’t a stranger to being observed. When he’s gigantic, that attracts a good bit of attention, understandably. Even at his normal size, he’s the subject of rumors, or general wariness. But this is different. It’s far more unsettling. It’s vulnerable.

“Hey. Hey, breathe,” Charlie instructs, slowly sitting in the chair by the desk and keeping her voice low. “Are you okay?”

That question breaks the dam holding back his scattered emotions. He’s panicking like he’s drowning- willing to take anyone around him down, if it means that he can keep his head about water. Except there is no such thing as “above water” for him right now. He’s scared. Felix Westwell doesn’t get scared. No, Felix Westwell gets angry, so that is precisely what he does.

“Do I fucking look okay? Use your fucking eyes! I am obviously not okay right now!” He snaps, looking at her sharply.

She flinches hard, but he’s too far gone to care.

“Okay,” her voice sounds much smaller now, her shoulders curl inward slightly, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“What could you possibly do to help me right now?”

“I—”

“Unless you recently developed some sort of power that would, I don’t know, hard stop my ability, or fucking grow me back, then I guess we are shit out of luck, aren’t we?” His voice is venomous, condescending.

She blinks, biting back a sharp retort. She watches him pace across her desk like a cornered animal. His chest heaves, though he’s breathing, he feels like he isn’t getting any air. When he looks up at her again, her eyes are glassy, looking through him instead of at him. She turns her gaze down to her lap, wordlessly fidgeting with her hands.

This is not the reward of a fight. It’s not the punishment of tears. It’s something worse, much worse. It’s nothing. She just shuts down in front of him. In an instant just disappearing inside herself. Despite being so small, he realizes he might have hurt her now, more than any time he was massive. The realization hits him like a boot to the sternum, breaking him from his panic long enough for guilt to seep in through the cracks.

“Charlie,” he says after a long exhale.

Her reaction is delayed. She blinks, dragging her eyes to focus on him slowly.

“I’m not… I’m not used to being small,” he says, side stepping the apology.

“Yeah,” she nods, looking away, “I noticed." Her words hang in the air for a moment. "I can just give you space until you’re… better.” Her voice is flat. She begins to stand.

“Charlie, wait,” he calls out to her, his mouth acting before his brain. He can’t stop her. If she wanted to walk away and leave him alone in her room, she could. Hell, if she wanted to snatch him up and yell at him for hurting her feelings, she could. Maybe he should be thankful that all she’s doing is walking away. He’s powerless, worse than powerless. Thankfully, she pauses. Just briefly. “I’m sorry,” his voice sounds so small on his ears, but it gets her to look at him again. She seems just as surprised as he is at his apology. “I’m sorry,” he says it again, his voice more solid this time.

She’s trying, he doesn’t need to take this out on her. Just, old habits are dying hard, he supposes. He doesn’t know how to say any of that. He doesn’t know how to ask her to stay. He isn’t sure what he wants right now. The panic is ebbing away, leaving him feeling hollow and stale. He scrubs a hand over his face, looking up at her helplessly.

She watches him for a beat longer, her expression guarded and unreadable. Then, slowly, she sinks back down into the chair.

“Okay,” she says softly, and the tension winding inside of him eases slightly. “How long do you think you’ll be stuck like that?” She asks after a moment.

“Don’t know,” he says, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the desk. “Probably a couple hours.”

“Sheesh,” she scrunches her nose. “Do you want to watch a movie?” Charlie offers gently, “Something to pass the time?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He doesn’t thank her. He doesn’t know how to without making it sound pathetic. She's taken a nightmare, and turned it into something manageable. She was there for him, despite him lashing out the whole time. He doesn't deserve her. He should tell her that.

...Maybe later.

She pulls out her laptop from underneath the notebooks. The front is decorated with stickers.

“What do you want to watch?” she asks, opening Netflix.

#size shifters #charlie and felix #g/t #g/t writing #giant tiny #give that boy A PANIC ATTACK #“YeAh PrObAbLy 500-1000 WoRdS”#2.3k smh #got my fkn clown shoes on i guess #word factory in overdrive #my writing #fun fact about me (and it's probably obvious) I'm not a huge fan of F/m size stories #but this was a fun lil AU #Not much scares Felix #he's not an avid panic attack haver- he probably thought he was gonna die- poor kid

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