Chapter Text
“Mapicc,” Spoke started, the ‘kuh’ ending softly despite the stern and puzzled start, meaning it will continue into some sort of inquiry.
“Yo.” Mapicc replied, grinning—the tip of his tail just above Spoke’s feet, to tease.
“Did you put that there?” Spoke pointed at the white cloth covering something—rectangular? Rounded? It stood up on its own, he doesn’t remember his mirror being this big… or stable.
Mapicc nodded, putting his fists on his hips—proud, as if he just stole the most important thing from Roshambo—their mutual enemy. That would be nice, though a let down because Spoke enjoyed robbing clearing the duped items with Mapicc, it’s nice to have a friend around after…all that.
Before Spoke could utter a single syllable of doubt, Mapicc (intentionally) brushed past his shoulder (what was that buzz?) to take off the white cloth in a dramatic fashion with a loud WHOOSH!
The mystery object was revealed to be…another mirror? But it wasn’t the one that had a large crack splitting into two like that illuminating, bubbly purple that gives a glimpse of the blazing fire from the nether (it’s getting closer)—it was a new, clean one, decorated with many stupid scribbles with the culprit by his side with forced proximity which Spoke leans into without hesitance.
He wears a smirk with a bit of his fangs poking out, sharp and white, pristine white, holy. Almost. Spoke stared, at the two people in front of them, one a friendly face and one where he can’t piece himeself together—that’s him?
“Oh Mapicc…” Spoke started, dramatically, as if he was about to tell him he couldn’t save the patient—whoever it was. “Why did you take it away? There wasn’t any point.”
Mapicc groaned, rolling his eyes after Spoke didn’t thank him like all his problems were solved “Your old mirror was literally broken bro.”
“So???”
“YOUR BANGS ARE CHOPPED AS HELL.”
Spoke gasps as his jaw drops “They’re not that bad!”
“They are, Spoke. Look at yourself.”
Spoke didn’t want to turn but he felt inclined to listen, he stared at his own reflection, not quite meeting the eyes. He looked down at the hoodie string of his, red, Mapicc’s, rainbow—and oh- right- his bangs makes his head look more bald than full.
“They look fine” Even Spoke couldn’t convince himself with that lie, voice breaking into a sneeze.
Mapicc snickered “See! Even you don’t believe it yourself!”
They both broke into laughs, the laughs clash into eachother and create a bulgeoned harmony. Mapicc turned to his side ever so slightly to fix Spoke’s bangs, staring at the mirror, seperating it into parts and brushing it with his fingers, for some reason he didn’t comment on the odd texture. Spoke stares back, tracking the path his best friends fingers take, smoothing and untangling all the chaos.
Mapicc has always been his anchor.
He didn’t want to recall the last time he stared at his reflection, he didn’t want to remember the tinted grey panes sheltering contraptions of every kind, he didn’t want to remember the floors and walls lined with deepslate as a familiar figure walked forward with a cape draping on the floor. The one who showed them greatness, what could have been, only to leave him, abandoned. Maybe a new mirror would be the first step to patch things up.
Anyways, Spoke does need to get used to seeing himself more to get Mapicc to shut up about his bangs for once!