Chapter Text
Learning to live in the same space as so many other people is starting to have its drawbacks. Every single room has a person in it, and with that comes conversation and company- whether or not either person feels up to it that day. He's had more small talk in the last four days than he's ever had before in his life, probably. Mellow finds himself hunting for more and more hiding spots when the adults go out every couple of days to get more supplies, tucking every spare blanket and pillow he can get his hands onto into the dark corners of cabinets and squirreling away snacks in case of emergency.
The kitchen has some decent space under the sink just like in Henry's house, so he tucks a quilt down there around the pipes to keep him from hitting his head, as well as a box of granola bars and two cans of soup. It makes him feel safer to have a wall on every side of himself, sometimes. Nothing can surprise him if there's only one way in or out. It feels right to have a wall on every side, pressing in close like the house itself is giving him a hug. Then he thinks back to the dark cave in his room, and nearly flings himself out of the cabinet in a rush for fresh air.
He wants to investigate the fireplace some more, but someone keeps locking the iron gate in front of it when it's not in use, so he just files that one away for later, and tries to mentally count out how many people pass through each room every day. It might help him find good times to hide if he knows when a room will be empty.
Mirianne continues to stay up late in the kitchen and sleep in until almost noon, writing and typing and planning and visibly stressing herself out. The little ceramic ash tray that Mellow sees on the nights that she smokes doesn't make an appearance during the day, and he's extremely grateful that the smell doesn't linger in the kitchen in the mornings. It would be harder to eat anything in that room if it did. He might try to find it and hide it later too- because it's a bad habit for adults to have. Smoking makes people meaner.
Ticketa and Ticketo seem to have made themselves the main cooks, letting some of the villagers help out on occasion if they choose to. When they're not in the kitchen, they've made a space for themselves in a shared room on the first floor, and Mellow doesn't really care to find out how they're decorating it. They can be gross and sappy in their own space.
Most of the villagers seem to be alright sleeping in the living room together, blankets and pillows strewn about in haphazard nests that get rearranged every night. It's cozy, but also pretty cramped if they're all there together. Paisley and Whiskers are both nocturnal, so they're often in there during the day and out on the rooftop at night. He'll have to be careful to avoid their keen eyes if he wants to sneak out at night again.
The office workers still like their own time apart and seem to prefer the ready-made meals or pre-packaged foods that they'd gotten used to carrying around with them but Ticketo doesn't seem to mind- and in fact, seems almost relieved about it. He's the one to make sure that Mirianne has an extensive list of ingredients before they all leave to get groceries, and tries to ask Mellow what he wants to eat. Every single day.
Mellow feels especially bad about hiding from Ticketo, but it's more attention than he's ever gotten before, and that never spells anything good for him. And speaking of spelling, Ms. Mania, Debbie, and the blue lady (he's got to stop forgetting people's names, really) have all been trying to re-teach him how to read and write properly. They've been able to bring back a handful of books, but not many that Mellow can actually get more than a page or two through without getting frustrated and quitting. It's all 'You've said big words like this before, what's the problem now' and 'You can do better than this if you just try a little harder,' and he's getting pretty damn sick of it.
He'll do better at his own pace, anyways, trying instead to read more with Scribbly and Tip in their now shared room in the upstairs area. It's been turned into the younger people's place, beanbag chairs and a large bunk-bed to share and thin red drapes over the window now that everyone's had a little more time to decorate. Mellow even got some people to help build a pillow fort for Tip, himself, and Scribbly to hang out in (since he's the only one of the three of them with hands, and needed some help reaching higher up).
He's also the one who gets the top bunk, since he's the only one of the three that can climb a ladder. It makes him feel a little scared when he's up there, even with the railing on the side to prevent him from falling off in his sleep, but he'll get used to it. It makes him feel like the biggest brother of the trio- even though none of them are related. But they had all been taken away from home by Henry, and it's brought all of them a little closer together, as terrible as Mellow feels about that fact.
He doesn't want to be seaparated again- especially by Henry- but he doesn't want Henry to be the reason they might feel forced to stick together, too.
The three of them have started to curl up together almost every night after dinner under the blanket fort, Scribbly's flashlight keeping the room lit while Tip helps him get through Charlotte's Web. This book has pictures in it, which automatically makes it better than every other book that the adults keep trying to get him to read. It's pretty terrific so far, in his expert opinion.
The first two weeks in the new house come and go, and so do its residents. The crowds of folks from Misery Town and the gamblers from the office are the first few to leave, as well as the red guy and the urchin-headed man. They wave and promise to visit and swear to write, and Mellow clings to Mirianne's arm when the first group of travelers set out to find something more than just the house in the middle of the sandy wastes. She doesn't try to tell him that everything's going to be alright, and he doesn't say it either. It's hard to reassure someone else when you don't believe it yourself, he gets it.
He wonders how many people will be left at the end of the month, and glances back over to the mailbox where Henry had been stuck through on the first night. Finding him gone was just as surprising as it was terrifying, but not a single person has brought it up. He's used to people disappearing and reappearing, and he hopes and prays that Henry doesn't come looking to make an encore. He wouldn't, it would be too much trouble. And even if everyone else leaves this place and leaves him behind... He'll find somewhere else to go eventually, he's sure. It can't be too hard to pick up and move on once more. He's done it twice, now.
Finally, finally, after a week of asking, whining, needling and poking about it, he's given the freedom to explore the sands around the house- as long as he's accompanied by someone else. Which of course is Tip, every time.
The two of them rush out of the house to skate (literally, with Mellow on his board and Tip sliding along the ground) through the sand with ease and incredible glee, whooping and hollering as they explore further and further away. Debbie had kindly tied a floppy sun hat to Tip's head so his face doesn't get sun-bleached, and Mellow had put up a fuss as Ticketa rubbed sunscreen all over his face until he felt as painted as her face was- but it was all worth it for the amount of freedom he'd been handed.
It's been WAAAYYY too long before he'd had a proper adventure. The entire desert is his oyster now, and he's here to crack open the mysteries beneath the dunes with a proper fisherman's expertise.
Straight behind the house, about a couple yards away, sits a huge swath of slate grey rock and a spring, shaded by the sparse palm trees. This must be where their house gets their plumbing from. The sound of rushing water comes from somewhere high up in the rocks, flowing down into a lake almost the size of a soccer field. Mellow takes a moment to carefully scale up the flat rocks on one side to peer down into the water below, with Tip staying down at the spring's edge to peer into the pool. It's so clear that the water seems almost invisible if not for the sharp white reflection of the sun across the surface and the thick, lush grass swaying on the bottom.
"Think I can jump in from up here and not die?" Mellow calls down to him, and Tip looks exaggeratedly back and forth and back and forth a couple times before he shouts back up, jumping in place. Mellow covers his mouth with a hand as he giggles at Tip's reaction.
"If you can make a big enough splash to get me at the edge, I'll give you half my dessert tonight!!"
Oh, it's so on. He backs up a couple steps, takes off his hat and his shoes, and takes a running leap towards the edge of the rock— and curls up just before hitting the surface of the water.
His breath is knocked out of him seconds later. It's freezing. He forgets to uncurl for a moment, struck still by the chill of the water, before he kicks out and up towards the surface with a gasp. He paddles awkwardly to the edge and pulls himself up onto the sand until Tip can reach him, dragging him by the back of his shirt until he's fully out of the water.
"…Cowabunga," Mellow shivers, blinking up at the sun until Tip leans over him, shielding him from its burning gaze. His paper face is a little drenched, and Mellow congratulates himself on his future second dessert. That splash was probably super epic from Tip's point of view. He distantly wishes that he'd been able to keep that camera he'd picked up in Timesville.
"Let's get you back home," Tip mutters, ever the responsible one, and for once Mellow feels alright cutting an adventure short.
When he gets home, half soaked and half sunburnt, he's unsurprised to find out that he's grounded for the next two days until he can prove that he didn't make himself sick by jumping into the water. He didn't know it would be cold, so it feels a little unfair, but he doesn't argue. Ticketo gives him a high-five behind Ticketa's back at dinner time, much to Mirianne's silent glare of disapproval over her glasses, and Tip fulfills his promise of half a brownie when dinner ends, which Mellow splits in half (again) to share with Scribbly.
That night, before the trio goes upstairs to start their book club, they get Whiskers to light the fireplace for them before he heads outside for the night to stargaze, and Mellow listens intently as Tip starts to quietly murmur about the houses he grew up around. He wishes he could share stories about his life before Henry, too, but… maybe he can try to remember later, when he isn't falling asleep.
About a mile and a half from the house sits a huge dump, piled higher than he thinks is safe to climb with what looks like everything anyone has ever made. Paintings, dolls, miscellaneous mechanical parts, split open bags of food long since decayed, all covered and half buried in sand and debris. Wishers and Nibbles are their guides for the first day, with Scribbly strapped to Whiskers' back so she doesn't get lost, and Mellow holding his own hand to make sure that Nibbles doesn't get to actually lead him around.
Tip pops up here and there, scouting out different piles of trinkets, pushing things aside and ducking under parts of rocks that Mellow doesn't think he could squeeze through himself. He feels a little jealous of Tip's mobility, despite the fact that he's rooted to the ground, and tries to keep his hands to himself when he finds a couple pieces of gorgeously colored glass inside of a gilded frame that may have once held a lovely picture.
It takes almost four days of exploring and learning how to ditch his guides (today, just Whiskers, who doesn't seem to particularly mind being ditched) for Mellow to notice the large RV parked between the massive sandstone outcropping behind the dump- almost unnoticeable from every angle except dead-on. The stone casts such a huge shadow that he hadn't noticed it until he'd thrown a rock over the side gate, which made a hollow thonk sound that made him and Tip share a look before taking off towards it.
Tip shuffles around the outside of the area making sure that Whiskers was long since distracted, and Mellow walks along the side of the van, running his hand over the long stripe painted along the side. It's clearly been redone several times, layers upon layers of faded paint visible and peeling away. The most exciting thing about it, though, are the hundreds of little painted identical handprints up and down and around every side of it in all different colors. Another kid lives here!!
He jumps in place once, twice, three times, shaking his hands out. Quickly glancing this way and that, waving Tip over when the other glances his way, he practically skips towards it, trying his best to keep his hands to himself. It casts a double wide shadow under the rocks, which he's grateful for, and climbs up the small steps to the front door to knock. He waits, and rocks back and forth on his heels once, twice… and then wedges his fingers between the thin wire frame and pulls until the door snaps open.
It swings open hard and hits the side with a loud BANG, and his hands come up before he even thinks about it. When Tip pops up next to him he swings- and Tip ducks away just in time with a yelp, disappearing back into the sand.
"Watch it, watch it," comes Tip's admonishing voice from inside the camper, scolding him and leading him further inside in the same breath. He steps in and pulls the door almost shut behind him, unable to close it properly since he'd bent the lock on the door by pulling it too hard. Oops.
"Sorry, Tip," he whispers, looking back and forth as he tries to find where his voice is coming from. "I'll be more careful, I promise."
To his right is the driver's seat and front window of the van- and where the passenger seat would usually be, a giant square hole is cut clean through the floor, and the top of Tip's face is barely visible over the ledge. In front of him, past the doorway, is another door with a written cursive label on it that reads… Gosh, that's a hard one. He silently mouths it out as 'lav-or-a-tor-y'. A lab, in the middle of the desert? He can't help but think of the Surgeon. Maybe this is their van? …It might be nice to see them again, actually. He was worried when he hadn't seen them after they'd all been tossed out of Henry's house.
"C'mon, kid, help me up, I can't get through this floor," Tip stage-whispers to him again, and Mellow hurriedly scrambles over. He carefully grabs the other and pulls him up out of the sand and onto the vinyl flooring, holding him still until his stump stops slipping and he can properly anchor onto the ground inside the RV. "WOW, this place is empty. Who do you think would be living all the way out here?"
"I dunno," Mellow responds, letting Tip gain his own bearings as he starts to wander around the space. "Not a lot of furniture," he comments, glancing over a bunk bed built into the wall (so cool) and a bare bones kitchenette. Frumpy brown couches are here and there, pressed against the walls, and a small flat area is sunk into the opposite end of the RV to the driver's area.
Two steps lead down into a sunken platform, the back wall ridged like a garage door and a wall-length mirror built into the side to reflect the pale wall back at itself. Buckets of paint are haphazardly scattered around , lids bent closed around the dented cans, and paintbrushes of various sizes tossed here and there. Mellow moves to stand in front of the mirror, tilting his head this way and that.
"I guess all that sun screen wasn't a waste," he sighs, scuffing his foot against the painted floor. He feels a little more sunburnt than he looks, which is a bit surprising. He moves a little closer to the mirror to check under his cheeks for where he feels the most sun-kissed, pressing his fingers just under his eye to check.
"Not really the kinda guy to get a killer tan," he sighs, and moves to sit down, grabbing the brush closest to him and picking at the dried paint on the stiff bristles. The paint there is a pale red, and it flakes off in thin pieces onto his trousers as he idly listens to Tip still scouring the place. He glances over to see Tip's shadow coming from the kitchen, likely lit by the light of a fridge considering the length of it. Bored, he turns back to face the mirror.
His reflection is holding a larger paintbrush, one of the thick rectangular ones. It's covered in thicker, light blue paint, which drips down his reflection's hand and onto the floor. Mellow glances down and sees only the flakes of red he'd let fall before. Glancing back up, he blinks, and his reflection has more eyes than it did before.
"Oh. Hi, Rodger," He says, and jumps back as a hundred hands burst out of the mirror towards him.
He blocks, and blocks and swings, and tries to ignore the sudden sound of Tip yelling in surprise— and takes a swift swipe to the face, raising his fists higher as his vision swims and he stumbles back. The figure in the mirror spills out further into the room, hands crawling like bugs along the frame and pushing its body out and up and up until its head knocks against the ceiling.
"Ow, ow, that hurt," Mellow mumbles as he presses his back against the wall to block left, left, front, left, right—
"That's more than enough, you two," a much louder, familiar voice cuts through his concentration before he's yanked off to the side and his vision tilts. Rodger makes a strange yowling sound before it's cut off with a blinding burst of light and a screech that makes Mellow clap his hands firmly over his ears, eyes screwed firmly shut. "You know that you should try to play nicer with your other, Rodger. And you as well, Mellow, should have asked before trying to play together. He isn't quite stable enough for company yet."
Spots dance in his vision as Mellow tries to reorient himself, stumbling in place when the Surgeon puts him back down on the ground. Tip pops up next to him again, and his fists shoot back up in front of his face. In his periphery he see Rodger move to do the same thing, having shifted back into a mostly normal-sized boy again.
"You okay??" Tip moves between Mellow and the Surgeon, tilting his face back and forth between the two nearly identical boys as the figure behind him sets down the giant flashlight he'd been holding. Good to know that Rodger is susceptible to flash bangs, not great to know that he's also photosensitive. Awesome.
"Yeah, I'm okay now, Tip," they both say at the same time, and Mellow shivers at how indistinguishable they sound from each other. Whatever the Surgeon did to make Rodger be as close to Mellow as he is, they did a damn scary good job at it. "So this is Mr. Surgeon's van. Cool."
"Whether or not I actually have ownership over the vehicle is relative," the Surgeon says from across the room, having walked over and sat in the driver's seat. The seat spins to face the rest of the room, and he gestures widely and with little effort. "Despite my best efforts, I and mine have still been tossed from the cave casting shadows into the harsh light of true day. My cup emptied and my lantern to remain lit. At least my barrel has wheels to carry us on into oblivion."
"This is a van, not a barrel," Mellow retorts as Rodger stands up, wandering further into the room and picking up his paintbrushes.
"So it would seem," the Surgeon says plainly, folding his hands back into his lap. His head tilts back, thunking hollowly against the wheel- which honks the horn of the van. Tip snickers quietly next to Mellow, and he can hear Rodger's echoey giggle behind him as well.
"I also was gonna ask for a drink since I'm thirsty and it's hot outside but if you don't have anything then I guess I can wait til I get back home," Mellow sighs dramatically, flopping back down against the wall and taking his hat off, shaking the spots out of his eyes.
"I told you to bring a water bottle," Tip mutters off to the side, leaning against Mellow's side and watching as Rodger drags his brushes against the floor, spinning in an outward spiral until he falls over into his own paint, dizzy.
"I can get you a drink," the Surgeon replies, standing back up and making their way into the kitchen. "All I have is water, so you three will have to make do."
"That's cool. You should fill your own cup too, since you said it's empty and you're getting all of us water anyways."
"I did plenty of that in my youth. My cup can stay empty for a while longer. I have a lot of catch-up work to do, now that everything I've built has come crumbling down around me."
Tip watches this back-and-forth with a more and more exasperated look, and then leans in closer to Mellow to whisper to him. "I know you like this guy, but are you gonna be okay if I pop out of here for a sec to tell everyone that you're here so they don't freak out about us disappearing?"
"Yeah, I'll be okay," Mellow whispers back as the Surgeon walks back into the room, setting a glass of water in front of Tip, then Mellow, and then Rodger, who's currently making paint-angels on the floor. Mellow wishes that he could join in, too, but Ticketa would probably be upset that he'd ruined one of the clean new shirts she'd gotten him on their last supply run. Tip bites the rim of the glass and tips (haha) the glass towards his face, taking two sips before clinking it back down onto the floor and disappearing.
Mellow takes a minute to mellow out, both hands on his own cup as he watches Rodger stick two clean paintbrushes into his. The Surgeon seems content to lean against the counter and watch, their head tilted slightly as Mellow stands back up to wander over and look at what Rodger is doing. They have a bottle of something dark in their hand, the label rubbed off, and they slowly tilt it back and forth without drinking it.
"When we met again in the playroom, you said my name used to be Rodger. And that I died, and now I'm Mellow," he says to the open air. Maybe now is a good time to get answers to questions he didn't think he'd ever be able to voice. "If I used to be Rodger, but you're Rodger now… which one of us is the real one?"
"You and Rodger both are twin ships," The Surgeon replies as Rodger shrugs, dragging a can of lime green paint across the floor with both hands and pulling the lid off in his teeth. "You are both different and the same. New pieces, remade- and all the original pieces, made anew."
"…Oookay. So neither of us are Rodger, then, since the original got turned into.. new," Mellow says, fidgeting, and continues to watch his other smear lines of lime onto the bottom edge of the wall.
"Or both of you could be Rodger."
"That would suck, though, because I'm Mellow now. I don't even… I like being Mellow. Rodger is somebody else now, somebody I don't remember." Rodger looks up from the floor and points at himself, frowning, and Mellow shakes his head. "I mean… He can be Rodger now, since I don't remember being Rodger. I wanna have new memories as Mellow."
"Then continue to be whatever or whoever you wish to be. It's your second chance at life, and you get to live it the way you choose. You two have a wonderful, wonderful opportunity to grow and change and become yourselves," the Surgeon doesn't have much of a vocal affect, but Mellow thinks he sounds almost bitter about it. Maybe the Surgeon thinks that he himself can't do any more growing, considering that he's mostly metal now. That's a little sad, actually. "With how philosophical this has become, I may consider myself more and more akin to Hobbes' thoughts in regards to how you two have turned out. Which is the original, indeed."
"Does that make me Calvin?" Mellow jokes, standing up to wander around in search of orange paint, feeling a little left out now that Rodger has started to dip his hands into the buckets and smear them along the walls.
"What?"
"Like the Sunday comics," Mellow responds, picking up a thin brush and grinding the bristles in his hand until the paint crusted there falls off in a fine dust. He drags the bucket of orange paint over to the Surgeon, lifting it up and silently asking for help. "Calvin and Hobbes."
"I suppose so," they reply, their free hand reaching out to pry the lid off of the can, and Mellow cheerily dunks his paintbrush into the can to start painting tiger stripes onto the Surgeon's legs. "Think of yourself as whoever you'd like, Calvin."
"My name is Mellow," he replies easily, and the Surgeon reaches down to gently put an almost affectionate hand on top of his head.
"So it is."
Mellow doesn't even notice that the sun had begun to set until someone knocks at the door and the Surgeon walks off to open it, letting rays of golden dusk spill into the room. Rodger and Mellow have nearly painted the entire back half of the RV together- and painted each other all over. Rodger let himself be bigger little by little so that he and Mellow could have more of a canvas, his hands a blurry rainbow as he paints up on the ceiling, unbothered by the new guest at the door.
"…Mellow?" Calls Mirianne's nervous voice, and he stands up with a rush to greet her at the door, nearly tumbling into the Surgeon's legs. They settle a hand on his back to steady him as he beams up at her, and she blinks down at him in surprise. Tip is posted behind her, looking just as shocked, and Mellow waves a smudgy hand at them both.
"Hi, Ms. Mirianne, hi Tip," he starts to lean out the door towards the steps, stopped only by the Surgeon's hand in the back of his shirt collar. He looks up at them in faux innocence, hands held out in front of him and shoes dangling in the doorway. "…Yes, Mr. Surgeon?"
Their face twitches. Got 'em. That's totally a laugh. "Wash your hands and your face before you go home, Mellow. You can use Rodger's step stool under the sink in the lavoratory to reach the faucet."
"Your lab has a sink?"
"La-vor-atory. The bathroom."
"La vore a bath room."
"Absolutely not."
"Aww, okay."
When the Surgeon sets him down again, he waves to Mirianne, who looks a little out of breath, and then again at Tip, before turning on his heel to skip off to the bathroom to wash his hands. The Surgeon tilts his head to watch, nearly fond, and Rodger continues to draw circles and spirals and lines along the walls of his play area.
Mirianne continues to stand outside, rocking back and forth on her heels, and keeps her paws firmly held in front of her, tail stiff and tall behind her. She can't tell if the Surgeon is looking at her or not, or even cares to address her, so she doesn't move to talk to him, either. His legs are painted up to the hip in wobbly orange and dark green stripes,and a bald headed bird is carefully scribbled out across his stomach and chest. His face is. Well. Mellow certainly seems to be taking Ticketo and Ticketa's make-up tutorials seriously.
When Mellow comes back out, shaking his hands dry, he waves to someone that Mirianne can't see, and then tilts his whole body into hugging the Surgeon's legs. "Thanks for letting us play," he whispers, his face tucked down, and the Surgeon gently pushes Mellow's hat more securely onto his head.
"Of course. If you can find us again, you can come and play again. Rodger will be waiting for you." They gently push Mellow away, and he leaps off of the doorway and into Mirianne's fumbling arms as she scrambles to hold onto him.
"Um, right, Mellow, please ask before-" She starts, and he sighs, petulant, and starts swinging his feet.
"I knowww, I know, they already told me to ask you next time, I promise I'll ask you before I go play again. Can we go home now?" Mirianne looks back up into the impassive face of the Surgeon and frowns, her paws curling a little more protectively around her boy. She tilts her head down to acknowledge him and he does the same- before turning away and shutting the door behind him. She notes that the rest of the door seems almost rusted completely over except for the lock, which appears brand new and shining silver. She frowns deeper, turning back towards the house with Tip gliding along in the sand next to her.
"Mellow," Mirianne tries again, glancing over his head as the sun begins to set over the dump. She hurries her pace, paws kicking up small puffs of dust behind her. "Would you like to… come shopping with some of us tomorrow? You can pick out some art supplies, if you want. You can't use Boon's supplies, so, you can… get your own. But only if you come with me so I know which ones to get you. Okay?"
Mellow yawns his hands curled into the back of her shirt as she carries him through the dunes. "Tha's a nice idea.. Thanks, mom…"
Mirianne tries not to stumble, taking a deep, slow breath as she buries that deep, deep down. She pushes her glasses further up her face and pointedly does not look at Tip, who's frowning sympathetically up at her as her expression grows pinched. "…Okay, Mellow. Let's get you to bed."
"Mmm. Nanight."