When Tamaki regresses to around 6–12 months old, he becomes an incredibly timid, sensitive baby who relies heavily on Mirio for comfort and security. He startles easily at loud noises, unfamiliar people, or sudden changes in his routine, and it's not unusual for him to burst into tears over things that seem small to everyone else. He's the definition of a velcro baby. If Mirio leaves the room—even for a minute—Tamaki's bottom lip immediately starts to wobble. Within seconds he's crying, tiny hands reaching toward the doorway, wanting nothing more than to be picked up and held close. The moment Mirio returns and says, "I'm right here, baby," Tamaki melts into him, clutching his shirt with surprising determination. He's painfully shy around anyone besides Mirio. If another friend tries to talk to him while he's regressed, Tamaki hides his face against Mirio's shoulder, refusing to make eye contact. Even gentle attention can make him whimper from embarrassment. Mirio never forces interactions, simply rubbing his back and saying with a smile, "It's okay, baby. You don't have to say hi if you don't want to." Crying is Tamaki's main way of communicating. He's hungry? Tears. Sleepy? Tears. Overstimulated? More tears. Wants to be cuddled? Definitely tears. Mirio has become so familiar with him that he can often tell exactly what's wrong just by the sound of the cry. Despite being such a crybaby, Tamaki is also incredibly affectionate. Once he feels safe, he'll curl up against Mirio's chest, hold onto his finger, or quietly play while staying as close as possible. He doesn't need constant entertainment—he just wants the comfort of knowing Mirio is nearby. Mirio never teases him for being emotional. Instead, he scoops him into his arms with an easy smile and says things like, "Aw, there's my sweet baby. Come here," or "I've got you. You're safe with me." His calm confidence helps Tamaki settle, reminding him that no matter how ov
