It's quite unnerving how an old friend can become a stranger in a couple of years. Especially an old friend who you had shared fond memories with. An old friend whom you used to talk to everyday and hang out with constantly. An old friend you'd laugh with, despite your suppressed hardships. Such memories stood out to Lou, as the time spent with his old friend Ox had been some of his best... but they had ended abruptly.
The prototype knew of his role, he knew he wasn't meant to keep any sort of imperfection around, let alone a reject from a different model entirely, but he yearned for the company. He hated growing countless bonds with dolls who he knew would leave, so having at least one doll he knew could never do that was a tragic blessing.
...However, deep down he knew that eventually Ox would be found out and sent to recycling. He didn't expect anything less, but that didn't stop the thought of separation hurting more than anything else.
"I'll do it." Lou swallowed the lump in his throat, "I'll... dispose of the reject." His voice was almost a whisper, the words leaving him unsteadily, sounding unlike himself. He didn't want to dispose of Ox; Factory knows he didn't want to. But if he didn't, then...
Countless days had passed since Lou had left Ox to be recycled- to be reborn in a hopefully more perfect state. So, upon hearing his name be spoken again by a red 'Lucky Bat' just a few months ago made him visibly flinch, the same feeling of utter despair he felt upon 'disposing' him flooding back into his mind. You wouldn't be able to tell though; Lou's emotionally strong façade back then was hard to waver.
Back to the present, it turned out that the 'Ox' Lucky Bat was on about was who Lou thought he was, but it was evident that his opinion of the blond had soured over the years. The prototype doesn't blame Ox though, he was the one who went through with trying to recycle him, and he had said some cruel things in his blind rage a few months ago. Still, it did slightly sting to see the green rabbit so uncaring of their past friendship now.
The robot dog was sitting patiently outside the mayor's house as Lou trudged back outside, gesturing a hand for the dog to follow. Her ears perked up, tail wagging as she bounded off the ground, the doll looking at the machine with a raised eyebrow.
"Someone's in a good mood today." He observed, guiding the dog across the large path of the institute, "...wish that I could say the same." The two arrived at their cleaning task of the day, much to Lou's misery: his old mansion.
...
It was obvious that the sky was brewing up something nasty, but that didn't prevent the freckled artist from going outside: canvas, paints, brushes, and easel in a large backpack. Nolan had been working on a landscape painting for the past few weeks, only being able to get so far with his motivation or the recent weather. Tuesday's and Babo's sculpture had inspired him, and he is not going to let such inspiration go to waste, even if mother nature was not on his side today.
He situated himself in the same spot and angle to continue the painting, rolling up the longer sleeve of his uniform. He was in the middle of a fabric forest, a mashup of both systematic and unsystematic-looking trees. The sun above was glowing similarly to that of the painting, a soft yellow glow flooding onto the edges of the trees, as an ocean lapped not too far from it all. This area was unusually quiet compared to the rest of the institute, and Nolan sometimes preferred it that way; it was calming.
As he painted, his hands glided across the canvas, painting the details delicately without wasting the slightest amount of time. With practiced movements, he mixed and blended colours in between, occasionally spending a moment to look at his reference before him. And all the while the weather continued to worsen. In fact, the storm clouds overhead looked as though they were moving towards him faster than anticipated, threatening rain. A cold breeze slid effortlessly through the fabric of his uniform, chilling him whilst he began to reconsider staying outside. His brush strokes became quicker as he tried to finish what he had started, but alas the wind grew stronger, and the paint refused to cooperate.
"Damnit..." He muttered to himself, before a small drop of rain hit the edge of his nose, eyes widening as he watched the drops trickle steadily towards his canvas. Nolan is now heavily revaluating his decisions. There was no way his painting would survive a rainstorm, especially not of the calibre it seemed to be reaching, and he really couldn't afford to sprint back to his house as it was right across the institute. He quickly grabbed all his materials and stuffed it back into his bag, covering his canvas from the rain with his body, without the wet paint brushing against his clothes. He fleetingly scanned the area for a place of shelter, realising that none of his friend's houses were nearby either. Come on... Come on... he panicked before his eyes led up to the only answer.
Nolan hurried as fast as his legs could take him, rushing towards the entrance of the large mansion that used to centre the old institute's neighbourhood, stopping under the overhead cover. He was reluctant to go in the house for a minute, feeling that despite it being deserted, it was still the previous house of their leader. But screw it, mother nature didn't care about such futile things. He stumbled inside, the door closing itself effortlessly without a sound. Numerous small floor lights flickered on before him, illuminating the sleek entrance. Well, ex-sleek. The tiled flooring and walls were covered in graffiti of insults and threats, canvases and statues of the mansion's owner additionally smothered. It took a moment for Nolan to process it all. It was honestly disturbing, that some dolls went to such limits to tear Lou down more- in his own home, no less.
A noise snapped him out of his thoughts, and he scanned around warily. It wasn't a sudden noise nor a harsh one though; it was rather... melodic. ...Singing? It wasn't too loud, especially over the hard pitter-pattering of the rain and the crashes of thunder, yet it was enough to spark the brunet's curiosity to the source of the sound. As he silently turned the corner of the mansion, he spotted a familiar figure, humming softly along to an inaudible melody. It was Lou, he realised, but what shocked him even more was to see him so at ease. It was clear he was singing to himself as he mopped the already pristine floor of the spacious dining room, far too wrapped up in his little bubble of solitude. It almost seemed like he was stepping in line with his song as well, swirling the mop as he went.
"I haven't heard you sing in a while..." the external thought left Nolan's lips before he could stop himself, and Lou halted mid-movement, turning to look at the doll in shock, almost dropping the mop. The brunet immediately regretted speaking up as Lou's expression changed from surprise to anger instantly.
"What are you doing here?" The blond stared irritably through wavy bangs.
"Well, uh-- sudden thunder clap cut Nolan off, making him jump slightly, "The weather." He pointed outside a large glass window where the rain fell hard, as if determined to make sure nothing would remain alive after it.
Lou sighed, rolling his eyes. "Right. So, I suppose you're stuck here until the weather dies down?"
"Probably."
"...Great." He grumbled sarcastically. How wonderful, the doll who he wanted to avoid was now stuck inside with him.
Great...Just great...
"I'm sorry to intrude, I didn't know that anyone else would be here," the doll confessed, carefully pulling out two intricately made chairs of the dining table, one for his large backpack and one for himself, placing the canvas on the glossy wide marble table, "but it's nice to hear you sing again... Your voice is very beautiful." Granted, the last time he heard Lou sing was to publicly shame him and others, but he can admit that his voice is pleasant to listen to. The blonde visibly faltered upon hearing the compliment, looking away awkwardly. He should be used to the praise, was used to the praise, but after everyone's kind words had trickled away and was replaced with something foul, admiration was unfamiliar.
"I suppose it's fine if you stay here, it's not really my house anymore." Lou obviously avoided pondering about the compliment any longer whilst leaning the mop and bucket to the wall, "You wouldn't be the first to intrude either."
Nolan questioned what he meant for a second, before dreadfully realising what he was talking about: the graffiti from earlier. It wouldn't surprise the brunet if Lou had read those horrible remarks, as it was practically impossible to miss them when entering. It almost... angered him knowing that some dolls had done such a thing. Lou's past actions were cruel, yes, and he understood why dolls would be hurt; he was hurt by Lou's actions as well. But he never expected someone to go so low.
"Ah, yeah, I saw that." Nolan finally spoke up, looking over to Lou as he pulled out a seat. "Their words are honestly cruel..."
"...but justified." the blonde added on, elbow leaning against the table to rest his chin, "to them, at least."
"...What do you mean?"
"You saw how everyone turned on me. 'tear his stuffing out!', 'leave him to the dog!' or whatever they said." Lou didn't realise that he was softening up to Nolan again, instead continuing, "I had probably done things to encourage their hatred. Heck, I tried to throw two dolls into recycling: for ruining the vision of Perfection. I assume that was already justification enough for them to paint their thoughts in my old home." He let out a dry laugh. "...This is what I get for following instructions."
The taller doll gave him a puzzled look, hinting for him to elaborate.
"I'm a prototype; I'm the role model, the teacher and the supervisor of this institute- or well, the old one. I was given instruction to ensure perfection in each and every doll, otherwise everything would fall apart." He paused for a moment, sighing deeply as he ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes closed tightly in defeat. "And I have failed at that instruction, after dolls such as yourself and the uglydolls infiltrated the place. ...S'pose it was probably for the best for you lot; you're free to prance around, unashamed of who you are." Lou laughed again, more bitterly this time. "...Couldn't be me."
Nolan watched the blond unwrap his crossed legs and stand up, stretching up his arms, before walking over to the kitchen nearby. He hesitated to reply to what he said, biting at his lower lip, as he stood up slowly and followed Lou.
"I... guess life is easier now we don't have to pretend to be perfect..." Nolan nervously murmured, his eyes staring intently at his feet. "But that shouldn't mean that you should feel ashamed of who you are either, Lou."
The blond scoffed, "That's easy for you to say. You're accepted by everyone, and even if you weren't, at least you could leave and not have to think about it."
"I haven't left." He simply replied. The prototype turned his head to face the doll, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Why not?"
"I never had the courage to." His voice was quiet then, barely audible above the steady drumming of rain outside or the high whistle of the boiling kettle on the stove. "It was easy for the most of them to go to the Big World, but... I-I don't know, I'm not ready yet, especially not after hearing about what the other dolls had to go through..."
Lou was silent for a second as he moved the kettle full of water of the stove, gesturing whether Nolan wanted any. The brunet softly nodded in reply, watching as Lou placed two mugs full of tea on a tray, with milk and sugar to the side.
"I don't know what you're worried about," Lou indifferently answered whilst carrying the tray back to the table, "You should be more than happy to be able to leave whenever. The portal always knows the perfect child for each doll that goes through. You should be no different." He sat down in front of Nolan, giving him his mug before taking his own and adding some milk, adding, "'A child for every doll and a doll for every child', or whatever garbage Moxy spews out". His words felt as though they were laced with envy; it was obvious by the way he looked down at his teacup and how it trembled slightly in his grip. Nolan quietly noticed this and decided to change topics. That was, until Lou spoke up first.
"What's the painting about?" He asked nonchalantly, pointing over to the damp canvas that lazily sat on the table. Nolan blinked in surprised, momentarily taken aback at how the conversation was still going.
"Uh... Oh! This?" He took a sip of tea before answering. "It's nothing, really. I found a nice view not too far away from here and thought I could recapture it..." His voice dwindled as he noticed the perfectionist pick up the canvas and stand up with it, arms-length away, inspecting it. The silence stretched for almost ten seconds as Lou studied every detail of the piece before turning around to face Nolan again.
"Hmm... It's quite good." He commented casually. Nolan gave a weak smile, not expecting Lou's compliment. "If only you didn't have all these little flaws, you'd be much better at your work." The remanence of Nolan's smile switched immediately into a pout. Seems that Lou still has some of his haughty traits left in him.
"H-Hey! I'm trying my hardest!" He protested, causing Lou to laugh in response; a seemingly genuine laugh that Nolan never knew he'd ever hear from the doll.
"I'm kidding." Lou waved a dismissive hand before drinking the rest of his tea, setting the mug back down on the table. "...It's impressive."
"Uhm, thanks!" The brunet wasn't too fond of sharing his art with others (aside from friends) and was normally embarrassed to do so, as his art was more for the artist, not the audience. But the small praise, from Mr. Perfect himself as well, warmed his heart a bit.
...
The two eventually finished their drinks, and upon realising the time, decided to call it a night. Lou showed the other doll to a guest room, which was just as spacious as every other room in the mansion, with its own ensuite and wardrobe full of different nightwear and other outfits. Nolan was slightly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the room, but he was too polite to complain as he waved Lou goodnight, before changing into the pyjamas provided in the wardrobe. After a while, he lay on the bed, letting his thoughts wander as the sound of the rain hitting the window filled the air. He thought about how Lou acted towards him today, how he smiled at him during their conversation, and how he seemed genuinely...
friendly.
He wondered whether that was normal for him to act in such as a manner, the thought lingering as he lulled himself to sleep.