[TW: Descriptions/images of entrails and decomposition, depictions of abuse]
Pepper stood over Microphone, watching her slow and persistent breaths. She was fast asleep, but Pepper could never be too sure. She liked checking and rechecking things, and only when she was 500% sure of something would she be satisfied. When Mic rolled over on her side, beginning to snore, Pepper knew she was in the clear.
Maneuvering through the hotel in pitch darkness wasn't frightening in the slightest, the light of the moon coming in through the windows was just barely enough to see. However, in her current situation, the need for stealth was a must.
Pepper had slung a sleeping bag over her shoulder. The plan was to hide Salt in there, as she didn't want to risk dropping any pieces of her along the way. It would be hard, but Salt was worth the risk.
When she was outside, Pepper made extra sure that nobody was around, not nearby the hotel or wandering around the area. She did a loop around the entire building, making absolutely sure she was alone. She was, until a familiar voice shouted out to her.
"Pepperrrr..!"
She spun around, meeting the gaze of her friend. Pepper ran to her side, making a 'shush' motion with her fingers.
"Salt, remember we need to be super quiet. Alright?"
Salt nodded.
"Oh, like, my bad. Right. Quiet. I can be quiet."
Pepper smiled, and she began unrolling the sleeping bag.
"That looks a lot more comfy than this thing."
Salt said, tearing out a piece of the black trash bag she lay in.
"Don't worry Salt. You'll never have to sleep there again."
She struggled with the zipper, grunting in frustration as it wouldn't budge. She would look back at Salt every now and then, hoping she wouldn't grow impatient. To her relief, Salt lay in her usual spot, still conveying a look of tranquil patience. She was still shocked that Salt was taking everything so well,but as it seemed to work out in her favor, she decided to not question her any further on the topic.
Pepper finished unzipping the bag, then turned her attention to Salt.
"Alright, do you need help getting out?"
Salt looked a bit confused, as if she was spaced out, but then snapped back to attention. She scooted closer, her broken face illuminated by the light of the moon.
"Like- out of what? The bag?"
"Out of the ground, silly!"
"OH! Like, yeah. That would be great."
Pepper once again put her arms around Salt's waist, getting ready to tug.
"I'll count to three, you help push up with your hands."
"Alright!"
"One...Two..."
Pepper tugged upwards, Salt propelling herself with her hands. After a moment, She shot out from the ground, and they both started laughing in triumph. Pepper hugged her BCFF, wrapping her arms around her broken body.
"You did it!!"
"We did it!! Hahaha! This is great! Im- I..."
Pepper's happiness was short-lived, just as a repulsive smell hit her face. The loathsome odor was unlike anything she'd ever smelled before, a horrid putrefaction that violated her senses like a slap to the face. She gagged, holding back the urge to vomit.
"OH- OH God- that– Salt do you smell that!??"
She shouted, still holding Salt, so she couldn't plug her 'nose' to shut out the horrid stench.
"Huh? Smell? Like...No, I don't smell anything?"
She replied casually.
Pepper was aghast, not able to comprehend how that sickening odor didn't make its way to Salt's senses. Still doing her best not to gag, Pepper moved Salt aside slightly, still holding her.
"I-I'm gonna just- let's get inside, okay? Can you sta-"
She stopped mid word.
Pepper's eyes moved slowly down Salt's body, starting from her horribly dented head all the way down to her...That was the thing she'd failed to notice. She was devoid of legs. An entire midsection at that. Anything below the waist that had been sticking out from the ground was simply not there. No, there was something. Goopy, reddish and brown entrails slid out from their host, falling to the ground with a wet plop. Several handfuls of salt also spilled out. Salt herself seemed none the wiser.
"Pep?"
She asked, still smiling.
Pepper's screaming mind felt itself crack the more she stared at Salt. There really was almost nothing left of her. Just the loose, hanging remains of what she was.
That's where the stench was coming from too. Until that moment, Pepper had never considered the one thing bodies tend to do, that being rot. Whether or not she was made of glass, what was inside her was definitely decaying, resulting in the vile stench. She watched for what felt like hours, though it wasn't more than a few seconds, as the gangrenous insides fell out of their host and into the now empty grave. The slimy, rotting guts fell into a singular pile, sloughing together into a revolting puddle of gore.
"Pepper? -OH! Hey is this-"
Salt reached out a hand, taking notice of the accessory that adorned Pepper's head.
Pepper set Salt down on the ground, facing the night sky. She seemed so relaxed, as if she had no clue she was missing half of her body. Pepper took a few steps back, still too sickened to utter a single word.
Salt closed her one eye, taking in a deep breath of the cool, night air. She looked so at peace, so content, so relaxed. She looked almost like she was sleeping. But Pepper's delusional mind could no longer shut off the natural instinct to fear something like this. She still felt she couldn't move, so chose to scan her eyes around something, anything that wasn't the rotting corpse in front of her. She looked down to where she'd just been hugging that body. Pepper's chest and legs were covered in that brownish, black tinted blood, and bits of the putrefied insides had stuck to her as they'd embraced. Her pristine pink bow had been stained too, one of its ends dripping the putrefaction down onto her face. She couldn't hold in her stomach anymore, promptly turning around and throwing up violently. Salt looked over at her, though still not moving from where she lay.
"Pepper? Hey! Are you sick??"
She asked in concern.
Pepper's brain was a mingled mess of panicky thoughts. She was covered in the mess. She'd just been holding it close to her.
Mess. It's not a mess, it's Salt.
How in god's name was she supposed to reassemble that? Pepper was sure no doctor, much less mortician would be able to fix the splintered remnants of her friend, so what could she do? All the hope she'd held onto up to this moment had all but evaporated.
She was only now getting a really good look at Salt's condition. She reminded Pepper of her broken mirror, but just the last second before it shattered into a thousand, irreparable pieces. The dried stains of glue were visible in some of the cracks, though they didn't seem to be doing much, and only served to paint the crevices with the adhesive. She looked like she could break at the slightest touch. Her eyes kept wandering downwards towards Salt's spaghetti-like innards, lining the ground around her. To Pepper's absolute horror, she held an unidentifiable organ in her hands, scanning it up and down. She still seemed unbothered. Pepper couldn't understand why Salt wasn't in pain, if not that, how she wasn't mortified at the sigh of her own intestines falling out of her.
She'd never forget it for as long as she lived.
"Pepper??? Like- what happened?"
Salt asked.
Pepper's wide eyes met her friend once more, who was still holding an organ in her broken hands. Salt ran a finger over it, squeezing out some mystery fluid. Pepper gagged, turning away.
"Like, ew. What even is this?"
Salt grimaced, narrowing her eyes at it. She hoisted herself up with her hands, crawling back towards the empty grave. She peeked down into it.
"Oh you have GOT to be kidding me."
Salt looked back over to her friend, who was struggling to keep her dinner from expelling out her mouth.
"Pepper, I like, need help with something."
Pepper would absolutely not turn around. She'd had just about enough, enough to last anyone a lifetime. However, the unfamiliar sound of squishing a wet sloshing caught her attention. Though unwilling, she turned around once more.
Salt was grabbing handfuls of intestines, shoveling them into the sleeping bag Pepper had laid out for her. She worked with determination, clearly having trouble with the task. She motioned for Pepper to step closer. The bag once had a star pattern adorning it, painted in colors of pink, purple, and blue. Now it was stained a deep red, dripping in gore.
Pepper could no longer hold it back, she wretched over herself once more. Salt rolled her eye at her BCFF.
"Come on, you can take alka seltzer when we're inside. I don't wanna be seen like this, it's so embarrassing! Please, Pepper???"
She snapped quickly, shoveling another handful of guts into the bag.
What responsibility did she have to be doing this? She could still walk, no, run away screaming, which is what she'd wanted to do since the start of this waking nightmare. Any person left with even a grain of sense would have bailed on the situation, and yet she stayed.
Because it's Salt.
Pepper's body seemed to move on its own, creeping towards the edge of the grave. She looked down.
The mess within the grave was abhorrent, a slurry of bowels mixed up within the dirt. Nothing could be properly differentiated, a gut not appearing much different from an intestinal tract. Pepper was uneducated in this sort of thing, but she assumed those were all things Salt would need to stay 'alive', or at the very least functioning.
Maybe she needed to stay there. She's out, so that all fell...out.
Now the blood was on her hands, metaphorically and literally.
I can fix this.
If she didn't help now, Salt's demise would surely be her fault. And besides, no matter how grotesque and disgusting, Salt would do it for her too.
Maybe.
She would. She definitely would.
Pepper got on her knees, taking in one deep breath before sticking her hand deep into the grave. The watery innards were hard to grasp onto, but she managed to pull something out from the puddle. She presented it to Salt.
"Girl, I don't even know what that is. Just put it in the bag."
Salt grabbed the thing from Pepper's hands, throwing it into the sleeping bag.
Pepper tried shutting off her brain as best she could, reaching down again into the pile. The dirt made it difficult to grasp into the edge, yet she held on like her life depended on it. She was having more difficulty this time, desperately trying to grab anything solid. She feared that in her frantic waving, she was liquifying the already rotting entrails, mixing them in with the dirt, blood, whatever else was in that hellhole. She finally grasped onto something, reaching out to grab it. Pepper realized a little too late it was the corner of a once white pillow, one she'd left out for Salt. She put a hand down to reach in again, but found herself grasping onto the edge of the trash bag, the plastic, slippery trash bag. She fumbled for only another second before falling headfirst into the grave, getting a facefull of rotting intestines and viscera.
"OMG!! Pepper?? You okay???"
Salt peeked over the edge again, looking down.
Pepper's legs were sticking out, kicking violently. She tried to throw her hands back to pull herself out, but found herself at an odd angle. Her arms were stuck, pinned under her, and slipping around in the puddle of gore. No surface was stable enough to grasp onto, as it would either slide off, or break apart in her hands. The need to breathe was rapidly setting in. She was screaming internally, screaming for some kind of salvation for her mind, to induce amnesia for everything she'd just witnessed and was living through. She'd rather die on the spot than spend another second in this scenario.
'Come on, Salty-Salt! Let's jump together!'
'Off THAT?! No way!'
'But we are BCFFs! We HAVE to be together!'
'I'm sorry Pepper, but there's no way. NO. WAY. That I am doing that.'
The need was too much, and Pepper eventually sucked in a deep breath.
She breathed in the cool night air.
Blinking a few times, she found herself still crouched beside the grave.
Huh?
She scurried backwards a bit. Pepper closed her eyes, trying to ground herself in reality. She rubbed her eyes slightly, wiping the rotting blood over her face unknowingly. She looked at Salt. The corpse looked back. It was smiling.
Pepper abruptly stood up, plunging two hands into the grave. She fished around for a while until she found the edges of the trash bag, and hoisted it onto the ground. She briskly tied the trash bag into a knot, then threw it into the sleeping bag. Salt was leaning against the stained sack, grinning at her friend.
"Took you long enough. I'm ready! Let's do th-"
Pepper didn't wait for Salt to finish speaking. She yanked her BCFF close, mentally kicking herself before shoving her into the bag. Salt cozied up beside her own intestines and viscera just as Pepper closed the bag. She slumped beside it, breathing hard. She was running on pure adrenaline, but had almost forgotten to breathe in the process. She wouldn't pass out at a time like this.
She went back to the empty hole, kicking the dirt back over it. She evened out the soil as best as possible, then rearranged the rocks around it in the circle they'd once been in. It took far longer than she'd wanted to, but everything had to be left perfectly.
Pepper stood up, admiring her handywork.
Her eyes fell upon the bloody sleeping bag. She stopped to think once more, wondering how she'd be able to carry it all the way up three flights of stairs without getting blood all over the place.
She picked the sleeping bag up bridal-style, walking carefully towards the backdoor of the hotel. She realized that if she held its sides upwards, the blood wouldn't drip down or leave a trail. She skipped a bit faster, standing in front of the door.
What if someone's in there? Went down for a midnight snack or- or for anything? How do I explain myself??
She shook away those thoughts. There would be no more hesitating. She gently opened the door, still holding Salt with one hand. She cringed as the door squeaked, but she still quickly stepped in.
The hotel felt much darker all of a sudden, as well as more menacing in the absence of light. Salt was very still in her grasp, though the wet and wriggling intestines seemed to simmer around to her touch. She started up the stairs, as quietly yet quickly as she could. She kept making sure she didn't leave a single trail of blood behind, though occasionally she'd get a few drops on herself, she didn't care. She could take a long shower once this was done.
Pepper walked in front of the door she thought to be Microphone's old room. At least, she was pretty sure of it. She'd made Mic point it out to her several times, despite it making her seem a little suspicious, she could not make any mistakes. What would she do if she waltzed into someone's room and propped a body-bag full or intestines and body parts in it?
Don't even think about her like that.
Right. Salt. Leaving Salt in someone else's room.
She wasn't 500% sure. But at any moment, someone could come out and just see them, so with great hesitation, she turned the doorknob and scurried inside, locking the door behind them.
Blinking a few times, Pepper looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone inhabiting this room. She flicked the lights on, confirming so.
Pepper lay the bag on the ground, hesitating once more before unzipping it. Salt was there, though her eye was closed, seemingly in deep plumber. She had her arms thrown around the organs beside her, almost as if she was cuddling them. Pepper was amazed that even in such a horrible situation, Salt could make anything seem sweet.
She put a hand up to her BCFF's head, gently petting her.
They were home. Together again in one place, even if not in one piece.
Pepper unzipped the bag in its entirety, only to get slapped in the face by that horrendous odor. She gagged, closing it once more, only leaving Salt's face exposed. Pepper turned her head slightly, noticing that Mic's room was one of the few in the hotel that also had a bathroom. For whatever reason, OJ wasn't able to provide every room with one, but her and Salt's as well as this one seemed to be the exception. She carried the bag once more, walking to the restroom. She laid Salt gently in the bathtub, which made Pepper a bit jealous. The one in their room wasn't nearly as nice as this one. Salt would definitely make sure to tell her that.
Pepper smiled, simply thinking about Salt's incessant chatter. She longed to hear it again soon.
She pressed down the tub's drain, ensuring nothing could slip through it. She made double, triple sure Salt seemed as comfortable as possible. Pepper knelt beside the bathtub for what felt like hours.
She could hear the birds chirping, signaling her time to leave. She zipped the bag back up, hiding the rotting smell within. She'd have to get something for that too, some perfume or disinfectant spray. She stood up, making for the door, before noticing her reflection in the bathroom's mirror. She was appalled by it. There were streaks of dry blood on her face, and where the blood and entrails had touched her left a nasty stain.
She ran to the sink, scrubbing her face and hands with copious amounts of soap. She was practically flooding the floor, but she didn't care. The murky brown water went down the sink as Pepper finished, finally feeling clean. She rechecked herself in the mirror over and over.
Yep, spotless.
She closed the bathroom door, then snuck out of the room altogether.
She stood in front of it for a few seconds, the exhaustion hitting her all at once. She sat on the floor, holding her head in her hands. She was so, so tired.
Cheesy had been sitting outside that door as well. Not Microphone's old bedroom, but Fan's room. He sat there, restless all night. He'd knocked several times throughout the evening, but never got a single response back. Several people would pass by him, but none of them acknowledged him, some even avoided looking at him. He didn't care. All Cheesy was interested in was reaching the man behind that door, even if he'd have to wait an eternity. He sat criss-cross applesauce, and went back to his routine. With tired eyes and a weary voice, he knocked on the door once more.
"Fan?"
He asked calmly.
Cheesy closed his eyes, trying to remember what that laugh sounded like. How was it that he could remember a bibles-worth of awful jokes, but not the most delightful giggles his 'ears' had ever been blessed with? He tried remembering that day at the supermarket, where he'd push Fan around in the cart, dashing from aisle to aisle. His gloved hands would shake and move sporadically. Those gloves didn't even belong to Cheesy, the one's he'd lended Fan, and yet he kept them. He remembered sneaking back into his own room with them, putting one on his left hand, then holding his own hand with his right. Fan had quite the sweaty hands, so the glove was a tad damp to the touch, but he couldn't have cared less. Cheesy cringed at the thought of that. He'd never been so sentimental about anything or anyone. He'd practically just met the guy, and was already getting this worked up.
"..Cheesy?"
The block of ricotta jumped, startled by the sudden noise. He turned back to the door, seeing Fan peeking out from behind it. Cheesy's smile returned.
"Fan! Hi!! Hey- I- I really need to talk to ya!! It's-"
He was cut off by Fan, who pulled him in the room, locking the door once more.
Cheesy squinted in the darkness of the room. Fan threw himself onto one of the beds, solemnly looking down. That frown made Cheesy feel remorse once more, who sat himself next to the paper man.
"Uh..."
He hesitated to speak.
"I- I'm really, look- I'm sorry I ruined the show. I- I was so insensitive, I didn't- mean what I said..."
He said at once, too ashamed to meet his gaze.
"I don't really care about that."
Fan replied.
"Huh-?"
Cheesy faced him once more. Fan was fiddling with a yellow-spotted blue bow in his hands.
"You didn't ruin the show exactly...I basically bailed on it."
Fan tossed the bow behind himself.
"Ah- but- I'm-"
Cheesy laughed awkwardly as he tried to explain himself.
"I didn't say that on purpose. It- It was a bad thing to say! I- don't usually say stuff like that...I- I just wanted to make you laugh-!"
He accidentally admitted.
Fan looked back at him, confused.
"You like doing that a lot."
He hugged his legs.
"I don't know why."
"Do I need a-"
"YES- I- I want a reason."
Fan snapped.
He scooted slightly backwards.
"Okay, alright. I can do that. I'm an honest fella."
Cheesy took a deep breath, psyching himself up to speak again. He faced Fan fully.
"I like..."
Fan tilted his head to hear him better. Cheesy struggled a bit more, before shrugging and just spitting out his words all at once.
"Has- has anyone ever told you- I'm. I really- Fan, did you know you have a really nice laugh?"
He said, looking away again.
"Laugh? M- whuh???"
Fan asked in confusion.
"What- what does that have to do with anything? I don't- my laugh isn't funny, it's- I- I hear it's kinda annoying-"
"-NUH UH!!"
Cheesy abruptly interrupted, startling Fan.
"I ah. I mean. That's wrong!"
He said more calmly.
"Fan- Fan I came here to really just- I- I made you really upset during the show, and it was never my intention! I- I can stop with the puns...I can try, at least. They- they're kinda a part of me, y'know-"
"It wasn't you, Cheesy."
Fan's lip trembled, and he sniveled slightly, the sound one would make just before bursting into tears.
"Fan??"
"I-It's my own- my own stuff."
Fan didn't know how to explain to Cheesy what had been keeping him up that night, or what it was he was fighting the tears for. He'd felt a paralyzing loneliness last night, ever since he'd run off crying and locked himself alone in his room. Paintbrush never came back that night, so he felt it easier to let everything out. It wasn't because he'd let everyone down, or because the show was ruined, or because the joke Cheesy told was very cruel, or even because he could hear Pepper scoff as he ran off. For some reason, his brain was giving him a horrible sense of homesickness. Not for a place, but a person.
Test Tube would know what to do.
She was so smart. She'd always helped him, been there, despite the arguments they'd had. While never a strain on their relationship, he wouldn't soon forget some of the angry words they'd exchanged.
'But I've always taken care of him!'
'I've saved IT, I've run tests on IT, and I know what IT needs to SURVIVE.'
He wanted something to hold. Something or someone to tell him that messing it up was okay, that even if he knew, and OJ knew it was a lost cause from the start, it didn't matter. He knew he fucked up. He knew that there indeed was a limit to what he could do, because he had found himself unable to enjoy anything since the tragedies. He never even knew them well, but he'd had constant nightmares after those days, and many nights afterwards. It took him days to walk down those steps, he wasn't even prone to breaking, yet he went down them while seated, scooting down the steps. He definitely looked and felt like an idiot doing so. And when he saw Soap, he all but lost his stomach. He didn't even come back inside the hotel until it was dark, much less eat for a long time afterwards. He didn't want to dwell on it, but he knew he was falling back into old habits, spending all day alone in his room, or on his phone, sometimes both at once. His fear of change and the unknown was rearing its ugly head at the worst possible time, enabling him to sink deeper and deeper, and this time, he was afraid he'd be unable to get out of it.
I want Test Tube here. Right now.
Without his support system, he was but a husk of himself. Fan had hoped he was stronger than that, that despite being alone, he could rely on himself to handle the blows. He'd rather stayed on that island, that decrepit, creepy place. Anything was better than this.
'I trust you. We got this!'
The very second he started to cry, Cheesy threw his arms around the paper man. Those cries broke his heart, stinging with the pain of old wounds. He cried a low, yet guttural cry.
"Faaaaannn... Fan...Heyyyy..."
Cheesy tried to speak soothingly, but he was never much good at comforting others. He made low, shushing sounds, trying to lull Fan back to a peaceful state of mind. Fan rested his head on Cheesy's shoulder, rubbing his face into the surface. He felt even more ashamed, shedding tears over someone he wasn't fully prepared to be this vulnerable around.
"Test...T...t.."
"Test?"
Cheesy repeated. He smiled slightly at Fan.
"Teacher, teacher, don't make me take a test! I'm not good at math!"
Fan giggled a bit through his haze of tears.
"Or science, or english, or art..."
Fan started to laugh a bit more, the sound drowning out his anxiety.
"Hehe...heh.."
"Oh! And PE. I'm lucky I'm not a wheel of cheddar, or I'd just start rolling down the street!"
Fan was laughing through his sobs, kicking his feet and wiping his eyes clean of tears. Cheesy was practically floating on air, simmering in that sweet sound. Fan didn't even know the effect he had on him, but Cheesy thought it was better that way. He could enjoy it without being judged.
After a moment, Fan stopped laughing, though his cries subsided as well. Cheesy poked his sides, as if trying to coax another laugh out of him.
"Hey-! C'mon, no more? You're a barrel of laughs, and you're still half-full of them!"
Fan shook his head.
"Ah...I'm good. I'm done for...now. Thanks."
Fan's short-lived smile was gone again, and he solemnly looked down at the ground.
"That's alright, man...say, why don't we get outta here? Being in one place for so long isn't a great thing...You don't gotta be embarrassed, nobody's gonna-"
"-Actually, ah- no, no I'd rather stay. I feel- it feels saf- I MEAN it feels nicer. In here."
Cheesy narrowed his eyes a bit.
"Safe? It's safe here!"
He said, genuinely trying to convey those words to Fan. He didn't seem to believe them.
"I know. I know it's safe, of course! That's silly. I'm not scared of anything here, Cheesy."
"Is it Pepper? She's not gonna yell at you. Worst she'd do is give ya a look."
He nudged Fan slightly.
The paper man rolled his eyes, leaning against the bed frame.
"I- I'm not scared of Pepper. I'm not, I'm really not. I'm just worried I got them a bit mad."
"Them?"
"Them- like- PMT? Ah- and I mean, I know he's got a temper, OJ is like- well he showed me as much when-"
Fan stopped speaking abruptly. Cheesy's bright attitude evaporated with those words.
"OJ?"
Cheesy gritted his teeth, though tried his best not to show it. Fan seemed a tad alarmed, never having heard that tone of voice come from the comedian.
"Ah-! Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Fan."
"He's been really nice to me."
"Fan, did he say something to you?"
"No- No actually! He wished me good luck before the show! It was nice! B-but maybe- maybe a while ago I caught him on an off night- I'm-"
"Hm?"
Cheesy's entire demeanor shifted, staring at Fan with great distress and outrage.
"He- he told me to go to bed, I guess- it was pretty unfair honestly, but-"
"Did he put his hands on you?"
"Mhm, but it's alright."
"Fan-"
"I'm still very confused about it. I didn't think he was the kinda guy to like- well I dunno if he meant- anything bad by it- i'm sure he didn't know- well the thing is–"
"Fan."
"I just have trouble breathing like that! But come on, who would honestly know that?? Not unless I tell them? He's harmless. T-to me, that is! Him grabbing you like that was totally uncalled for. I should still give him a piece of my mind, I tell you what! I'm- I would've- I should've-"
He threw his arms around the paper man. Fan shut up instantly, though he didn't hug back.
Fan had that effect on him, making him feel things he hadn't before. Much like such a fervid admiration, Cheesy felt an indescribable, boiling anger rise inside of him. It would boil over and explode the next time he saw OJ, he was sure of it.
OJ stood straight, watching with curious eyes as Tissues napped on the couch. He wasn't sure why he was watching, but he felt the urge to watch over him, not like some kind of guardian angel, moreso a hawk.
The evidence that an episode of Fan's Fantastic Features had even occurred had been all but erased, much to his delight. He hadn't needed to clean up anyone's mess this time around. All he could hope for now was for Tissues to simply not wake up and start wretching all over the couch again. He'd give that box a piece of his mind if he even thought about it.
He glanced up, feeling someone else's gaze on him. Paintbrush turned away as soon as he met their eyes, and calmly walked away. Paper took their place in his line of sight, looking down at Tissues as well.
"OJ...Uh...Hey, you're up so early again."
"Mhm!"
"You uh...You looking over...you're watching over him?"
"Yep yep."
OJ replied with a grin.
Paper still didn't know what to make of this. One minute, OJ looked angry. Now, he was calm as ever, happy even. Paper looked back down at Tissues.
"Y'know, they...he reminds me of something."
"Hm?"
"What are they called...the..the little guys."
"Little- huh???"
Paper stared at him in utter confusion. OJ snapped his fingers, as if remembering.
"Oompa Loompas. The little guys from the movie."
"...Chalkboard and the Chocolate Factory?"
"That's the one!"
OJ smiled, then started to laugh slightly, not quite loud enough to wake the sleeping Tissues.
"I have a good feeling about today."
He threw an arm around Paper, grinning from ear to ear. The paper man crinkled a bit with the gesture.
"I have a great feeling about this. I just know it."
OJ said.
Paper did his best to meet his smile, though it was a bit muted and uncertain.
OJ stepped backwards a bit, skipping for the stairs.
"Anyway! I'm off to find the rest of the Oompa Loompas running around the hotel, I'm sure Fan and Cheesy need some company right about now!"
"R- right! You- you go do that!"
Paper gave him a thumbs up as he ran for the stairs. He let out a long sigh when the glass of juice was finally out of sight.
He took a seat beside the sleeping Tissues, careful not to wake him. Tissues had a nasally sore, quite a nasty sound being emitted as he breathed in and out. He still looked so peaceful.
OJ was giving Paper a massive headache. He was just so damn unpredictable, he didn't know what to expect from him. Anything he ever said seemed to tick him off, so what changed? All he needed was a little nap? A change in the weather and he was suddenly fine? Paper was never prone to explosive anger, but he'd caught himself snapping at people, whether it be suddenly or subtly. Nobody deserved that from him, and much less OJ. He stared at the sleeping Tissues.
The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos.
The stranger in place of OJ did not put him at ease.
He stared upwards at the ceiling.
I feel like I'm being left out of something again.
He was neither an observer or an eavesdropper, so he had no recollection of what went on inside his own home most of the time. He was both present and unobtrusive. Sometimes he would slip out the front door, going completely unnoticed for hours. He wouldn't do much on these excursions, mostly just walk circles around the block or head into town. As the colder weather set in, he'd swaddle himself in scarves and coats, appearing more like a precisely packaged gift.
Nobody seemed to notice when he would leave, much less when he came back.
'Oh, you left? Where'd you go??'
'W-w-where d-d-did y-you say y-you went a-a-again?'
'Oh, hey! I didn't notice you were gone! What's up?'
He'd never been asked how he was doing after the spew of unfortunate accidents happening around the hotel, not that he was too worried about it. Though he would've preferred if someone cared how he felt on the matter.
He wasn't one to dwell or worry on things once they were done and over with. That being said, he did help out in some of the more tedious instances. Shoving the dead body of an old friend, or better yet acquaintance wasn't pleasant in the slightest. He didn't care for any grudges they'd still held towards one another, he'd known her since they were kids. And all he could see in the mess of glass and broken bones was the face of that child. He shuddered to picture it.
He had a high tolerance for pain, and did his best not to show it, but he couldn't lie to himself. He was stuck under a dark cloud that just wouldn't pass, and he felt as though he had nobody to turn to on the matter. People he'd known for years, people he saw more often than his own family, were nearly unrecognizable to him. One, a stoic, quiet shell of his former self. The other, a sad, yes-man, following the every whim of another. And that one, the 'another...'
A walk would be nice.
He just needed to clear his head again. Someday, the bitter rain cloud would pass, and sunlight would shine in through the blinds once more, welcoming a nice day. He just needed to hold out long enough for that day to arrive.
One foot after the other, hand gripping the rail, he made his way down as slowly as he could. The stairs still put him on edge, though not as much as the kitchen did. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten there, and suddenly felt a twinge of hunger. He decided he'd go out to get something to eat.
Upon reaching the ground floor, he made a mad-dash for the front door, hoping to not encounter anyone on his way out.
He cringed, as he heard the slightest sound of paper crinkling.
"Hello!"
Paper said, greeting him. He hesitantly turned to face him, waving.
"Hey, I'm going out."
"Again? Where to?"
"Just- out. I'll be back."
He said.
Paper nodded, glancing back at the sleeping Tissues once more.
He waited for him to say something else, though he wasn't sure what words he was waiting for. Still, he expected something. When nothing came, he turned to leave again.
Tissues slowly rose from his sleep, like a vampire rising out of its casket. He stretched, blinking a few times, Paper looked away from him as he arose, closing his eyes. Tissues looked up at him, extending a hand and waving.
"Hi Pickle."
He sniffled.
"Bye, bye. Bye."
He closed the door behind him.
With the confidence of a mediocre hotel manager, OJ strutted up and down the place. The shit-eating grin he wore would make anyone turn their heads away in disgust, but he just couldn't help it. A rabid glee had overtaken him, and he wasn't about to hide it. Maybe, his smile would plague others, and they'd share in his happiness. That was his job, of course!
OJ caught sight of Paintbrush again. Though he still didn't know why they caused him such anxiety, he felt the need to mend things. Whatever he'd done, he would make things right with them. As their back was turned, he bounded towards them, tapping their side to get their attention.
"Hey, Paint-"
They turned on their heels immediately, looking down at him. Their neutral expression quickly shifted to one of rage and disgust. OJ's words caught in his throat, and he suddenly had none left to speak.
"What?! What do you want??!"
They shouted.
He still didn't speak.
"Don't touch me again."
They turned to leave once more.
OJ was ashamed to admit how much power Paintbrush had in that moment over him, the ability to make him feel so low and ashamed. He felt sick to his stomach.
"WAIT."
OJ reached out to them once more, but to his shock, they slapped his hand away.
"Are you DEAF?!"
He took several steps back. The brush stood at the defensive, still trying to leave OJ's line of sight.
"Why- HEY. Don't leave yet. Why are you looking at me like that?! What did I do?"
Paintbrush stopped their escape attempt, and actually smiled back at him. It wasn't a kind smile, it was one in awe at his sheer obliviousness and stupidity.
"You're- you dont-"
They chuckled. The sound sent chills down his spine.
Paintbrush was done with the formalities. They glared down at him with a fierce determination. Baxter scurried to the tippy top of Paintbrush's head.
"When was somebody going to tell me that Soap is- 'maybe' dead???"
They put bluntly.
OJ let out a small gasp, covering his mouth in one hand.
"It..."
He relaxed his shoulders.
"It was very unfortunate."
"It's MORE unfortunate that I had to hear it from FAN of all people, instead of, I don't know, the guy that RUNS this place??!"
OJ paused. He craned his head upwards towards the brush.
"Huh?"
He asked with a twinge of displeasure.
"OH! Yeah, you don't have to hide anything from me. Because FAN told me everything. I had to practically pry everything out of him, poor bastard looked so scared. NO, not of ME, but of you."
They pointed an accusatory finger at OJ.
"And I'm sure nobody is really jazzed about a guy like Tissues..."
They started.
OJ's eyes widened ever so slightly, realizing where this was going.
"Paintbrush-"
"...Does it REALLY mean you have to shoot him up with detergent? RIGHT in the FACE?"
They let out another dry chuckle.
"You- you should've seen the look on Fan's...he looked like HE was the one that had it happen to him. Pale as a ghost! You freaked him out of his damn mind, I'm sure you did to everyone!"
OJ felt his knees go weak as Paintbrush clenched their fists, slowly releasing them to blow off steam.
"And I left you alone with Baxter..."
The crab crawled back into their massive cluster of bristles.
"I bet you could've...You- you would- you're-"
They were far too angry to continue.
"I can't believe this, but I can't even look at you. I don't want to keep looking at you."
OJ swore he could see the ends of Paintbrush's 'hair' glow, almost as if they'd catch on fire. The tiny flames went out before they could grow.
"Why..?"
OJ muttered, not realizing he'd said it aloud.
Paintbrush blinked in confusion.
"Why, why would-"
He cleared his throat.
"Why would- you take his word? That's so horrible, I just, I didn't think he'd ever make up such horrible lies about me. I don't understand why he wou-"
"-STOP. Stop, just stop. You're trying to get out of this, aren't you?! What did you tell everyone, what did you bribe them with to shut them up?!"
"I- I've never-"
"You know why I took his word for it?"
Baxter crawled down the brush's leg, scuttling away.
"He's not the...greatest guy to be around, I'll admit. But ho-ly-shit. I don't know if I've ever seen someone that scared. Did you do something to him too? Something he didn't tell me???"
"I- I haven't-"
Paintbrush stomped one foot down, shutting him up once more.
"If I hear- If- if I catch so much as a whisper- that you put your hands on someone else-"
They took a few steps closer to him, making OJ scramble backwards, bumping into the wall behind him.
"I don't know yet. I'll think about it the next time you do."
They were silent for a bit. OJ timorously tried to find his words once more.
"I-I- I'm not a- bad person- I didn't-"
"-Ah. He was right when he said you were delusional too."
With that, they turned to leave, smacking OJ in the face with their long bristles. He coughed, spitting the brush's hair out with disgust.
He felt a breeze in that hallway, still pressed against the wall. He rubbed at his arms, trying to warm himself back up, but that chill was felt deep into his soul.
OJ turned his head, as if expecting someone to be there.
How was it that in his several story tall, prized hotel, he could feel this cold and alone? He stayed in the corner he'd forced himself in, trying to come up with a way out. That seemed to be what everyone did these days, stay quiet and think to themselves. Did people even talk to one another anymore, if it wasn't to relay some awful news? He just wanted to spare Paintbrush that agony, spare the people he loved that pain. He didn't want the kids to get sick, so he tried to get them away from the sickness itself. Was he a bad person for that? Maybe he went a little too far, but if the ends justify the means, they could be accepted, right? People still cared for him. He had the capacity to love. In fact, he found himself newly appreciating those around him, every single person in that hotel, he knew he loved them. He loved them with his whole heart. He'd never have the capacity to harm them, not if he didn't think it was for the best.
"Fan."
He clenched his fists.
But then why, why would Fan do something like that? He wasn't looking out for Paintbrush, he was trying to fear monger. Surley, Fan wasn't that kind of person. How could someone so meek and...Fan-like, for lack of a better term, ever have such bad intentions? But he just couldn't see any other way. OJ pulled himself back together, making for the perpetrator's room. This was his hotel, his friends, his loved ones. He would protect them, because if he didn't, who else would?
I will make you smile. I will make you comfortable, safe, and secure.
They would have him to thank for it. Him alone to thank for their happiness.
The tall one watched as OJ walked through the hall, a look of fierce determination on his face. She could guess he had somewhere to be, and he was serious about it. She caught the shorter one staring as well.
"Is...Is Pepper a good roommate?"
He asked conversationally.
She nodded, smiling once more.
"Yeah! Yeah...She's- she's really sweet."
She said, before going quiet once more.
He adjusted the bow tied around him, struggling to get it back into its usual shape. Microphone stepped around him, crouching slightly. She grabbed the ribbon, tying it into a bow on his back.
"Thanks."
He said.
"Yeah, no problem."
She replied.
Microphone wanted so badly to form some kind of real, genuine connection with him, but it seemed every 'conversation', if she could even call them that, were no more than a few words. They'd been trying to find Pepper, as she was not in sight when Mic had woken up, and since they were practically stuck to one another these days, they thought she would be upset if they ran off doing other things by themselves. Pepper needed not worry, as the two strangers hardly spoke to one another the entire time.
"So- ah...do you-"
She started, trying to initiate a conversation once more.
He looked up at her.
"Um...You- you take pictures right??"
She asked meekly.
Trophy gasped slightly, as if having forgotten his own hobby.
"I do."
He replied in a normal tone of voice. Microphone caught onto it, latching onto the topic further.
"Cool-! What do you usually photograph?? You- you like, work in that professionally, or..."
He shook his head.
"No. It's a hobby. Was, was a hobby."
"We should- We could probably get Pepper on board with that. I bet she likes having her picture taken."
"She definitely does."
They chuckled.
"If we could find her..."
Mic said, peeking around the corner. She did spot their team leader, fast asleep, sitting in front of her old bedroom door. Mic looked puzzled.
"Huh?"
Trophy whispered.
"She's asleep."
Mic pointed at the pepper shaker, snoozing without a care in the world.
The hotel manager stood beside her, deep in thought. He looked as if he was waiting for her to wake up. He was impatient, tapping his foot rhythmically as he waited. After not another moment, he nudged her slightly with his hand.
"Pepper. Hey..."
"Mmmmm....Huhhh..?"
She blinked a few times, then her eyes shot open, abruptly shooing him away.
"Ew eew ew!!! What are you doing?!"
"I- I was trying to see if you were alright. I have somewhere to be, but I saw you, so-"
"I'm trying to sleep, DUH!! Can't a girl get any beauty sleep?!!"
OJ's eyes scanned around the hallway.
"...In the hall?"
"Yeah. What of it???"
"N- nothing. Nothing I guess."
He shrugged.
Pepper narrowed her eyes at him. He met her gaze with his signature grin.
"So how did you sleep?"
He asked, very cheery.
"Oh, don't give me that."
She scoffed.
"OJ, you might think I'm some sort of moron, but I know when you're like, not being genuine. I've known you for a loooong time."
His smile fell.
"Ooooh, you're still hungover, huh? Is it a bit of an aftereffect???"
"I was never..."
"Oh-! Speaking of which, you better not go running off to yell at Fan about last night."
OJ shook his head, clearly taken aback.
"Yeah, yeah I know you! You'll blame him for something stupid, and then make everyone feel like garbage about it! You go against everything PMT stands for!"
OJ stomped his foot down, making her flinch for a second.
"Pepper."
She chuckled at his tone of voice.
"Oh yes, supreme overlord hotel manager Mimosa?"
"Don't call me that."
He stood over her, though clearly not affecting the uncaring pepper shaker.
"My day already started off shitty, and I wanted- I wanted to at least see if YOURS was any better. You know I care, right?"
"WOW! Nope. I had no clue."
"Well then you should know that. I care enough to not- want you to sleep on the floor, I guess."
"WOW. Wow. Wow..."
Pepper put her hands up to her face, mimicking fake surprise.
"That is sooooo sweet of you, Mimosa. You know, you almost fooled me there for a second."
"Well I guess if you just like being rude, I can't help that. You need to know when you're in the wrong too. You even got those other two in on...Whatever scheme you're stringing them along in."
Pepper looked appalled, standing slowly to her feet.
"You little shit! What scheme?!! What- what I'm not allowed to know other people? I can't- I'm not allowed to be nice??"
"You know damn well that isn't who you are."
"And who are you, exactly??"
There was a long pause from them both after that. Trophy and Mic were still eavesdropping, hands clasped over their mouths to remain undetected.
"Right. You'll blame everyone but yourself. But I'm not an idiot, and I don't believe that smile for a second. I like, have better things to do. Trophy, Mic, and FAN know better too."
OJ tilted his head slightly, spilling a bit of himself on the floor.
"Fan?"
"Oh! Yeah..That little guy is with us. Who knows, maybe PMT can have one more member. I'll have to consult my associates on thaaaat~! But anyway, I'm done here."
She skipped off, right towards the other two, as if she'd known they were listening the whole time.
"By the way, you, like, dropped some of yourself there."
She pointed to several drops of orange juice shattered around OJ's feet.
"Bye bye, Mimimimimosaaa!"
She pulled the other two away, who were still very much confused and trying to wrap their heads around the conversation.
"P-Pepper???"
Trophy asked quickly, still being pulled away from the scene by their group leader. He was quite impressed that such a short person could drag along two people taller than her, much more so this quickly.
"Yeah?"
She replied with her usual smile.
"What- What was all that-??"
"Oh, like, don't even worry about it. OJ doing his usual thing."
When she finally released them, Pepper's cheery demeanor seemed to have returned, though for some reason, it was off-putting to the other two.
"How come you were sleeping there?"
Microphone asked, making Pepper stop and think for a moment.
"I- well! Promise you won't laugh."
"We won't."
"I like, went to get a snack in the middle of the night, but I got so sleepy on my way back, I just kinda-"
She made a motion with her hands, as if he pretended to fall over, then pretended to snore.
"Zzzzzzz...."
Trophy chuckled, though Mic seemed less convinced.
"Right..."
"Anyway! I had another great idea last night!! I think today, we should, like-"
"Pepper."
She abruptly paused, eyes going wide. She heard that voice, but couldn't tell if it was coming from the back of her mind, or somewhere down the hall.
"Pepper?"
Microphone tilted her head at PMT's leader.
"Pepperrrr..!"
It called out once more. Her eye twitched slightly.
"I'll. Like. Be riiiight back."
Without another word, she ran back down the hall, turning the corner. The other two were left alone once again, in that awful, uncomfortable silence.
"...Do you...Do you wanna see the pictures I've taken?"
Trophy asked, looking up at the freakishly tall Microphone.
She nodded.
"Mhm! Sounds neat!"
Fan was kicking his legs behind him, gleefully typing away on his keyboard. Cheesy was pacing back and forth, one hand in the air, like a professor giving a lecture.
"In 1981, the US launched the first real Space bowtie, It was named Joeyana, and was piloted by two brave cheeses. They had practiced jumping for more than two years, and were experts in composing. Joeyanna took off from Vancouver, using an engine powered by only a flower, and soared off into the sky! At an altitude of 2763 feet, it went into orbit around the hotel. For the people on Earth, it was a sight to behold! At least until a crab showed up, forcing an early landing at Yoylecity. It was truly a disastrous day at the space station."
Fan was chuckling and laughing to himself as Cheesy read off the screen, doing his best to contain his laughter over something so dumb.
"I think that one- that was my favorite one yet."
The cheese man said, looking at Fan, who was still busy laughing to himself.
They'd played about 47 rounds of mad libs, however they were just now starting to grow tired of it. Cheesy closed the computer, scanning each sticker that Fan had decorated it with.
"Thanks, Cheesy."
Fan said, ceasing his laughter. He finally stood up from the bed, taking several long seconds to stretch.
"No worries, I love this game. Honestly, I'll play as long as you want!"
"Thanks, thanks but- I'm good."
Cheesy stood up as well, still admiring Fan.
"I take it you've had enough of me?"
He said jokingly. Fan shook his head immediately, looking frantic.
"NO! No no no that's not what I mean!"
"-I know! You, you're really such a gracious host...Be it show or just- room."
Both men had their eyes fixed to the door.
"I feel like I should apologize to someone else."
Cheesy admitted, breathing out a long sigh.
"Oh? Oh. Mmm...mhm."
Fan nervously agreed, knowing well what he was referring to.
"She- I'm sure she will!"
"Yeah?"
"She isn't...Well, she's not- How do I say... She's forgiving! I'm sure if you just talk, it'll be okay."
"I hope."
Cheesy's glee seemed to vanish, putting the fan on edge.
"Maybe I should talk to someone else first."
"Huh? Wh- OH. Cheesy, Cheesy hey–"
Fan stopped him from walking forwards, just as Cheesy had his hand over the doorknob. He put a hand on Cheesy's arm.
"Cheesy, come on..."
"I'm listening."
He put a hand over Fan's hand.
They looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Ah. um. Just-"
They both took a few steps back from one another.
"Please just don't talk to him. I can handle it."
"Fan, I feel like this is how all of our conversations end. We talk, someone does or says something weird, or interrupts us, it gets awkward, and then we split. So I'm just gonna go, talk to someone, and yeah! That's that."
"Cheesy! I'm serious, do NOT talk to him about this! I can solve my own mess out, okay??"
Cheesy rolled his eyes, flinging the door open.
"Alright! You win, Faniel. I'll go find PMT. See you around, Mr. Features."
Fan gently smiled at him, waving goodbye.
"See you around."
Cheesy pointed two finger-guns at Fan.
"Bye Bye!!"
"Bye!"
"Bye."
"..Bye."
Cheesy shut the door.
Fan waited until he could no longer hear his footsteps leave, then slowly backed away towards his bed, sitting right at the edge. He never took his eyes off the door.
He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
Every thought that plagued him wasn't quite gone yet, but Cheesy certainly helped. He decided he was someone he'd want to keep close. As far back as he could remember, those he went and made strong, personal connections with were all people that he'd met on Inanimate Insanity. That wasn't to say he devalued those relationships for it, but something about this was different. The fact they'd existed on the same show wasn't what drew them together, it wasn't even them living under the same roof.
Was it a tragedy?
How ironically romantic.
He chuckled, closing his eyes. The only substance to come from such awful events was him making one friend. He felt selfish for some reason, his own happiness an egotistical luxury few could afford. But he didn't want to wallow in misery forever. Didn't Pepper tell him as much? To simply keep going on? The limit to his potential was thinning again. He looked down at his hands in the darkness. They were hard to see, however he knew they were there. He squeezed them shut, then opened them again. Fan wiggled his fingers, clapped his hands, trying to put feeling back into them. He was, in fact, alive. But this time, he felt it too.
It does get better.
It would always get better. He'd crawled out of worse situations. Much, much worse than this. He would keep going, not for others, but himself. He would wait until he saw Test Tube again. He'd fling himself into her arms, and recite everything that had happened. A shoulder he wouldn't feel selfish for crying on.
Fan grabbed the edges of the bed, preparing to stand up.
He flinched, as the bedroom door slowly opened. Someone stood there, looking at him expressionlessly. He held the door propped open, never turning away from Fan. He was almost unblinking.
Fan felt like a speck of dust in that giant's eye.
"...Hi."
He greeted the hotel manager meekly.
The look in OJ's eyes was nothing like that during Fan's Fantastic Features. Those eyes had intent, and Fan thought he knew it this time.
He stood at that doorway for what seemed like an eternity. Their staring contest was only interrupted when he turned, shutting the door behind him.
"OJ?"
Fan asked, sitting up straight on the bed.
The way he stood was that of a professional. His back was straight, eyes focused, a clear and calculated man. A man that knew what he was doing, and what he was going to do.
The terror didn't fully begin to set in until Fan heard the smallest, slightest sound of the door being locked. The evolutionary instinct of fight or flight was switched on in an instant, and his entire body stiffened.
"Fan, I need to have a word with you."
OJ whispered, still facing the locked door.
Fan's eyes scanned the room, subconsciously looking for some way out. He tried his best to shake off the worry.
If he wants to talk, he wants privacy. It's why he closed the door.
He tried convincing himself of that as OJ finally turned around. That look made him feel even sicker. He wasn't angry, he wasn't even mildly bothered. It reminded Fan of the look a disappointed parent would give their child. The 'parent' clasped his hands together, preparing to speak.
"I woke up today. I was really, really happy this morning. I loved the show. I loved how happy it made everyone."
He spoke passionately.
Fan blinked a few times, deeply puzzled.
"I really wanted to have a good day today."
Only his eyes moved, gazing down at the fan.
"But I had a word with someone. Someone that told me things- things I really would've rather...Heard at the desk. Or even better, from you."
Fan felt short of breath. He started feeling a little dizzy, shaking his head slowly.
"Mhm. Mh- yeah. Don't shake your head at me."
He reprimanded.
"I really, really expected-..."
OJ lowered his gaze slightly.
"No, I don't really know what I expected."
He just kept shaking his head in disappointment.
Fan chuckled nervously, which only made the manager stare him down again, that cold, disquieting look.
"Im- I- I don't- I don't know what you mean."
He didn't respond.
"Can..."
OJ crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.
"...Can you remind me?"
Fan tried to form a smile, though it shook and faltered as the glass of juice still did not respond. Fan's voice dropped several octaves, barely producing another audible sound.
"Please?"
OJ smiled.
"I didn't think you needed to be reminded."
He chuckled.
"You- you're clearly grown already, you can run off with whoever, saying whatever you want. Am I right?"
Fan once more threw a confused look at him.
"But by all means! Say 'please,' and 'thank you,' you can be as polite as you wanna be, if you like being a kiss-ass. I can tell when you're lying to me."
"I'm not lying."
"Don't interrupt me."
He trembled in his seat. He was perfectly free to move, but OJ's gaze kept him glued to his seat. He looked around for Cheesy, PMT, anyone he could call out to. There was nobody.
"Fan, why don't you like me?"
He asked.
It wasn't a loaded question.
You're terrifying.
"Do you hate me?"
He asked again, taking a few steps towards the shorter man. Fan tried to call out, but no sound would come.
"I really hope you don't."
OJ was close enough now to rest a hand on the arm of the chair. He leaned down close to Fan.
"Because that's not how I feel. If anything, I love you."
Inside his head, Fan was screaming. He couldn't remember a time before this when he'd been any more scared. His hands were held out slightly in a defensive pose. OJ grabbed his hands, lowering so they were face-to-face.
"I love everyone in this hotel. Every. Single. One."
Fan couldn't physically move any further back in the chair. That stare was affecting him in a way no other look had before. It didn't look right through him, it went further, cutting right into his very soul. That gaze was nothing his own nightmares could ever conjure up.
"That includes you, Fan. The things I do for you, and everyone here, are for your benefit. Because I care. I care so much."
Fan couldn't tell if OJ sounded more like a concerned mother or a deranged psychopath. He raised a hand to Fan's face, wiping the tears that were slowly falling from his face. He was utterly petrified, the only other sound he could hear besides OJ's voice was his own heartbeat.
"Doesn't it feel nice to know someone's looking out for you? That someone cares this much about you?"
This isn't what love feels like.
He felt like he was gonna puke. OJ had stopped leaning forwards, but he was so close that Fan could smell the hotel manager's breath. It was not pleasant.
"Maybe I love you all too much. If I loved you any less, I'd have thrown you out by now."
OJ stroked the side of Fan's face sweetly, chuckling to himself.
Fan would've preferred OJ just scratch his face, the gesture would've felt less violating.
"Tell me you won't do it again. Promise me you'll never take Pepper's word for anything ever again."
Even if he wanted to answer, his body would not respond. Every part of him shook violently, more so every time OJ ran a hand down his face. He couldn't even look away, OJ's eyes locked onto his.
"And, promise me you won't say upsetting things to anyone else. Nobody needs to be sad right now, alright?"
OJ was all smiles.
"Pinky promise me. Okay? Since you know everything about me, Mr. 'Number One Fan of Inanimate Insanity,' surely you know why I'm doing this. So promise, okay?"
Fan tried shaking his head, but even that simple action wouldn't occur. He was dry heaving, and struggled to even breathe between his own sobs.
"Why are you crying?"
OJ asked sternly. His tone made Fan flinch.
"What are you scared of?? I haven't done anything to you.."
To his horror, OJ leaned in and hugged him. To say he was revolted would be an understatement, Fan had never felt such a degree of terror from such a wholesome gesture before.
"Alright. I know you're listening, and you'll keep your promise. So how about just saying.."
OJ pulled away, standing face-to-face with Fan again, terror still stamped on the smaller object's face.
" 'Golly, thank you OJ! I'll keep my promise!! I love you.' "
OJ said, trying to mimic Fan's voice, a smile still on his face.
The words kept repeating in Fan's mind like a broken record.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
I love you.
It was then Fan leaned forwards and vomited all over the seat he sat in. He bawled openly now, his voice returning. He wailed like a child.
"BhhWAauughh...haah..waaaa..AUUUGHH!!!"
He screamed.
OJ didn't seem concerned.
Poor baby.
OJ patted his head softly.
"Ohhhh, ohh..it's okay.. it's okay.."
He cooed.
Fan could barely breathe, physically unable to calm himself down. He put his hand up to his head, gripping at it wildly. OJ looked down at him, murmuring sweet nothings to the paper man.
"Ohhh...Oh, that's enough of that...You- you don't have any reason to cry. I'm not mad at you...Look at me. Hey. Look. Look!"
He gripped the paper man's head, pulling him out of the seat. Fan kicked his short legs in protest, still sobbing uncontrollably.
"See...See..? It's all fine..."
Fan scratched at OJ's hands, the ones that held him above the ground. The hotel manager promptly thwacked him across the face, only shutting him up momentarily. He felt a sudden rush from it, slapping him again. He stopped before delivering a third however, seeing he had already stopped resisting.
"Say it. Right now."
He could hardly see the man in front of him through his tears. Fan opted to try and speak before breathing, just to try and release himself from OJ's terrible grasp.
"GAAH..Haaahh...IIII...I—I..G-GOLLY! Thaaank..thank..you! I—I'llllll keeeep myyy p—prooomiSE!"
He paused to take a few labored breaths. OJ narrowed his eyes at him.
"What else...?"
He playfully asked.
Fan took slightly longer to continue, though his face still stung, and mostly due to how revolting those words felt in his mouth.
"I....haaah...I- I—"
"SAY IT."
"IIIII I LOVE YOUUU..!!!"
Fan threw up more bile at that mere statement.
OJ let him fall back into the dirty seat.
Fan swayed back and forth, dizzy and eyes unfocused.
He wiped some of the mess off of Fan, sweetly rubbing his hand over his cheek, then wiping his own hand off on the adjacent wall.
"I can tell you mean it. That was very mature of you."
Just as he entered, OJ casually made for the door, placing a hand on the doorknob. He paused, then looked back again.
"Oh- one more thing."
The mortified fan's eyes twitched, unable to utter a response.
"I don't know if that was you, but if you could please avoid slamming the doors, that would be great, okay?"
Fan, still dry-heaving, met his eyes as he turned away for the last time.
"I'm so glad we had this talk."
And with that, OJ unlocked the door, shutting it behind him once more.
Fan couldn't quite feel the passage of time for a while. He was perplexed, mortified, terrified, and confused all at once. It took him a very long time to finally stand, using the bed's sheets to wipe himself clean. He almost threw up a few more times, repulsed by the smell. He threw the dirty sheets off the bed and into a corner of the room. Fan hid himself beside the dresser, hugging his legs.
Was it real?
He asked himself several times, trying to confirm. Everything about it felt more like a nightmare. He looked down at his hands once more, squeezing them shut and moving them around. He was awake, he was real. They were real. It was all real.
He expected to find himself crying once more, but didn't. He robotically made his way to an adjacent wall, staring up at its decorations. A poster he'd owned for as long as he could remember, adorned in faces of old acquaintances, new friends, people he'd seen every day for the past few years. 'Inanimate Insanity,' it read in big, blocky letters.
The innocent feeling of enjoying something was far, far behind him.
He traced a hand over the poster. Those faces felt unfamiliar now, as if everything he'd ever known wasn't as it always had been. He thought he'd already learned that lesson. Fan thought many things that were very apparently not true.
His finger scanned a certain season one winner's face on the poster. He stared at it, expressionlessly.
"There has to be a reason."
He said to himself.
"There has to be."
Because there was nothing else it could be. Just him, back inside that shell.