Work Text:
It's a little past three when BoJack finally comes to, head pounding and eyes swimming.
The house is a goddamn wreck, per the norm. Empty beer bottles and greasy pizza boxes along with ropes of silly string and graffiti staining the walls create the atmosphere of a whore house. The whole place reeks, too; anyone who suddenly decided to drop by would surely be bitch-slapped by the scent the second they set foot inside the house.
Great.
BoJack slowly sits up, head spinning as he attempts to gather his bearings. He remembers very little from the previous night, only flashes of strobe light and momentary glances of random women's smiling faces illuminated by the pool.
The stale taste of booze reminds him of his epic benders in days past, and his nostrils are burning like they're alight, hinting at possible drug abuse that he doesn't recall.
Did he get laid?
How many people were here?
It smells like vomit. Seriously, did someone puke somewhere and not bother to clean it up?
BoJack finally manages to stand, leaning heavily against the sofa as he continues to try and remember more from the previous night.
It's not like getting black-out drunk is a new experience for the washed-up actor, but he's still not too hot on the whole 'not recalling anything from the last ten hours' thing, especially since the party itself is the highlight of Bojack's week, not the cleaning up after everyone else and feeling isolated beyond belief.
It's the being alone that really kills him, the empty feeling he gets when he gazes around his trashed house and sees the remains of real, warm people, but no one in sight.
BoJack Horseman is, as always, completely by himself, surrounded by the aftermath of a party, a really damn good one from the looks of it, but no one ever stays.
Deep down BoJack knows that anyone who'd show up to his house to get shit-faced probably doesn't actually care. Oh no, they're solely there for the music, sex appeal, and bragging right of being able to say, ''Hey, I met the horse from Horsin' Around last night!"
Why would any of them stay?
Everyone loves BoJack as a source of entertainment, but not as a person. He's an actor from their golden childhood years, a bringer of happiness through sub-par acting. Knowing BoJack and getting acquainted with the mess beyond his jokes and catch-phrases would surely ruin those bittersweet memories.
"I'm a joke."
Saying it aloud hurts less than BoJack anticipated. Its the truth, isn't it? Why should he be scared of facing the truth?
He's a joke, a washed-up has-been with no future in Hollywood and a serious lack of a support system. Alcohol is the closest thing he has to a friend these days, and he keeps company around through huge parties and the occasional desperate phone-call to his ex, Princess Carolyn.
He's alone.
All alone.
"Fuck."
The process of cleaning up after a party hurts, both emotionally and mentally. It takes hours to scrub all of the graffiti off the walls and pick up all of the empty beer bottles, and even after everything's cleaned up the house still smells like sex and pot in a grossly, pungent way.
BoJack hates picking up other people's shit, really fucking hates it, but he hates it even more because he doesn't even know what party-goers helped make this mess.
Sometimes he plays a game with himself and tries to imagine what the people who left behind these empty beer cans and piss stains on the carpet look like. The game makes everything easier in the moment, but in the long run it makes the void in BoJack's chest feel even deeper and darker.
"Hey, uh, Mr. Horseman?"
BoJack's startled by the sudden interruption, dropping his armful of beer bottles with a clatter as he whips around looking for the intruder or ghost trying to communicate with him.
"Who the hell's there?!"
A short kid's standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, staring Bojack down with big, blood-shot eyes and a soft smile. "Hey, Mr. Horseman, I, uh....I'm Todd Chavez, I was at the party last night?"
BoJack can't help but stare, wondering if he's finally cracked and is seeing things. He's always wanted company, despite his anti-social and crude exterior...did God psychoanalyze him and send him a pot-smoking angel to keep him company? Is that what this apparition is?
"I'm sorry for sticking around and all," The kid continues, unfazed by BoJack's gawking. "I would've gone home, but that's sort of the thing. I don't have anywhere to go right now...I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor and let me crash on your couch for the rest of the day? Would that be cool with you? I promise I'll be gone by tomorrow afternoon."
BoJack, still confused, slowly nods. He doesn't see any harm in letting this stoner hang around, then it won't be so fucking quiet…
"Aw, man, thank you so much!" The kid gushes, cheeks turning bright red as his smile widens. "Hey, lemme help you clean up to show my appreciation! I'll take care of the kitchen and then make some breakfast. I can make some pretty good hash browns."
As if on cue, BoJack hears his empty stomach gurgle, having had gone for far too long without anything substantial. "Alright," He mutters, watching the boy bend over to pick up the armful of beer bottles he'd just dropped. What was his name again? Trevor? Chase? Timmy?
BoJack'll have to remember to ask the kid for his name again later.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"You said you'd be gone the next day, it's been two weeks, Todd," BoJack says flatly, looking none too amused as he watches his overbearing house-guest waste away the day on the sofa. "Seriously, have you even started looking at apartments?"
Todd glances over his shoulder, looking like a kicked puppy. "Aw, jeez, sorry, Mr. Horseman...I guess I've just been putting it off. I feel like I need to find a steady job first, you know? I took a flyer from Wendy's earlier..."
"Fast food chains don't provide steady employment," BoJack replies with an eye roll. "Look, I'll pay the first month's rent for you if you just move out, okay?"
Todd nods, still looking dejected and sad. "Thanks, Mr. Horseman, but...you don't need to do that. I've wasted enough of your time already, I'll take care of myself."
BoJack simply nods, taking a swig from his flask and relishing the burn in his throat and bloom of warmth in his chest.
The kid can cook, the kid talks and makes noise, the kid cleans, but BoJack needs his space, needs his bachelor pad back. No woman wants to have to be dragged by a stoned roommate that reeks of nachos and marijuana!
BoJack needs Todd gone.
"Do you think you can move out by next weekend?"
Todd nods again, eyes glued to his knees.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The stereo is blasting as people crowd into BoJack's living room, yelling and laughing over the electronica music as they dance and drink. BoJack himself is in the middle of the mix, looking for an easy lay and a way to ease his pain. The alcohol isn't cutting it tonight, he's still thinking and thinking...something's gotta give.
There was a tipsy woman who winked at him earlier, all pearly whites and fluttering eyelashes. Maybe he can find her in here somewhere...unless she left.
Everyone leaves.
Except for Todd, who's currently out on the deck, drunkenly singing karaoke and laughing like a fool.
Todd never leaves, even when BoJack tries to force him to. He almost left a few weeks ago when BoJack pushed for it, but last minute the kid decided to stay because the apartment he rented on the southside was 'too cold'. Whatever, as long as he doesn't leave.
He can't leave, BoJack doesn't know what he'd do without the kid there. The house was so fucking empty before Todd came along, if he were to go he'd take all of the warmth and noise with him.
"Hey, you're the horse from Horsin' Around', right?"
BoJack turns around and forces a smile as the flash from a phone camera momentarily blinds him, leaving him floating in a headspace that's all too empty and depressing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The cup shatters as it hits the floor, sending shards of glass everywhere. Todd stands in the corner shaking, not daring to initiate eye contact as BoJack continues to loss it, clearly in the midst of some sort of break down.
"Take it e-easy, man," Todd mumbles softly, putting his hands up in defense. He's seen BoJack get pissy and distant before, but this is completely new and terrifying. It all started when Princess Carolyn dropped by, but nothing seemed to go wrong! The two of them just talked like mature adults...
"Shut up, Todd!" BoJack shouts, not ceasing to destroy all of his plates and glasses, going through the cupboards like a maniac. He's lost everything, his fame, all his lovers, any love that might come his way, all of it...all Princess Carolyn manages to do is rub salt in the wound by reminding him of how shit used to be.
'Remember the first night you stayed over?'
'Oh, what about that time we went to see the opera with all of those stuffy walruses!'
'I always hated how you hogged the blankets...'
Maybe reminiscing makes Princess Carolyn feel better about the life they lost, about what they used to have, but all it does is make BoJack feel old and alone.
There are no more failed date nights, no more loving gazes, and no more mornings together. Why bring them up and reopen old wounds? Why act like the mess they had was so good after years of recovering from their rocky relationship's implosion?
"Mr. Horseman?" Todd asks, looking torn between hiding in his hoodie and giving his maybe-friend a hug. "You've obviously got a lot of shit going on right now, I totally s-see that, but you need to take it easy before you, like, do something you regret..."
BoJack pauses briefly to consider this. Yeah, he'll most likely be infuriated come tomorrow when he wakes up to an ocean of glass on his kitchen floor, but that's why there's booze, right? To forget everything with, to use as a form of self-medication.
"Mr. Horseman..."
"Shut up, Todd," BoJack mutters, all heat gone from his voice. He's tired after an hour of trashing his kitchen and binge drinking. He's ready to call it quits.
So what if Princess Carolyn is in a secure enough place to move on and look back with a smile? So what if BoJack fucking hates himself and wouldn't mind dying of alcohol poisoning? Where's the damn punchline?
"We're out of gin."
Todd looks briefly astounded that after all of that, the screaming and destruction, all BoJack has to comment on is their lack of gin.
Wow.
"Yeah...I think you've al-"
"Don't lecture me."
There's a moment of silence, BoJack eyeing up the cabinets in hopes of them storing some vodka or whiskey, while Todd stares down at the glass around his bare feet.
"I'll clean this up..." The kid finally mutters, stepping around the shards with the grace of a ballerina as he heads to the closet to get a dust pan.
BoJack smiles and blinks back shameful tears, watching his roommate dig around the hall closet. Sure, he needs the kid around, but this is one of those days that BoJack thinks he just might kill himself if Todd Chavez wasn't here, eating his food and sleeping on his couch like an adored, little leech.
Of course Todd will clean this up, the drowsy horse thinks as he clumsily stumbles over to the cabinet to fish around for more alcohol.
Todd always cleans shit up.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Todd gets used to all of the women pretty fast, as at least once a week BoJack brings someone home from the bar to have sex with. Usually BoJack's lays are decently nice, smiling at Todd from the kitchen counter as they make themselves toast or put on a pot of coffee, but this one's not.
This one's mean.
"So, you're the dead beat BoJack told me about. Todd, right?" She asks snidely, picking at her nails as she sits at the island. BoJack's beer-stained sweatshirt swims around her skinny frame, drowning her.
"I guess so," Todd replies, forcing a smile as he cracks the eggs over the bowl. He knows BoJack doesn't like him that much, Todd's painfully aware of this, but a deadbeat?
Todd cleans, Todd cooks, Todd rolls BoJack onto his side every night to ensure that he doesn't choke to death on his own vomit...they're sort of friends, right?
"I used to have a roommate like you," the woman continues, glaring over her shoulder at BoJack's closed bedroom door. "Lazy, ate all of my food, made a mess. Totally worthless."
The last word rings in Todd's head a few times, and he almost echoes the same sentiment aloud himself. He's been told that he's worthless plenty of times now, enough times to recognize it and admit that it's true.
He is pretty worthless.
The woman rambles on underneath her breath, now bashing all of her ex-boyfriends and girlfriends who treated her poorly, only using her for sex. She's not mad at Todd, he just happens to be around for her to vent her frustrations to, a human punching bag with very real, very valid emotions.
In all honesty, the woman is pissed at BoJack.
Her name is Audrey, not Anna, and no, she was not interested in making his lazy ass breakfast. Later she'll feel bad for having had berated poor Todd, who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but for now she simply fumes while Todd makes her an omelette and mutters the prophetic ‘w-word’ under his breath until it sounds real.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey, uh, Mr. Horseman?" Todd asks shyly, poking his head out the door leading to the deck. "I was gonna order a pizza. What toppings do you want?"
BoJack doesn't even bother to open his eyes, tongue dry from another day of excessive drinking and eyes swollen from crying by himself over Lord knows what.
"Mr. Horseman?" Todd asks again, daring to step out onto the deck. The lack of response scares him, has the guy blacked out? Should Todd call an ambulance?
"Mr. Horseman? Did you hear me? Mr. Ho-"
"You can call me BoJack, Todd."
Todd blinks, taken aback.
BoJack smiles serenely to himself, feeling victorious for having had swallowed his pride long enough to get it out. As much as being adored unconditionally and being called by his professional sounding last name rocks, he thinks he owes Todd this much.
The kid has stuck it out with him through the worst of it...they are friends, he supposes, in their own fucked up way.
"Oh, uh...okay. BoJack," Todd says, smiling at the way the name rolls off of his tongue. "I'm ordering a pizza. What do you want on it?"
"Whatever you want, Todd."
"Alright...BoJack," The kid says with a contented smile, all but skipping back into the house.
Yet another victory.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
It's a rainy Saturday night, cold, too. BoJack lounges easily on the sofa, surprised by how relaxed he feels with such a mellow, weak buzz from only two cans of light beer. Maybe he's just in a good mood for once, for some bizarre reason.
Todd's sitting next to him, huddled up in a quilt as he flips through channels in search for something to watch besides Shark Week. Dumb sharks, thinking they're so fucking special because of their single annual week of recognition...
"There's nothing on, Todd. Why the fuck do I pay so much every month for a bunch of crap about flipping houses and cooking?"
"There's always something on, BoJack, you just can't give up," Todd replies with a muffled yawn. "Hey, I picked the last thing we watched, why don't you take a turn driving?"
"I just said there's nothing on. Are you listening to me, Todd?" The horse asks in annoyance, even more peeved when the remote is tossed into his lap.
"C'mon, BoJack, what do you usually watch besides porn?"
BoJack rolls his eyes but considers this question. He's never really been one for TV when the star's not him...or a busty actress.
What does he watch?
Does BoJack watch anything? He used to be enthralled with talk shows as a child, getting to see the shiny, famous people discuss their everyday lives in an almost normal fashion...well, he used to like those shows before his mother took to mocking them, tearing them apart and making BoJack feel like a fool for watching them.
What hasn't his mother ruined for him? Love, TV, happiness....the list is truly endless. Even if BoJack found some reruns of the classic 70's late nighters, he has a feeling he'd start to feel nauseous, feeling like his mother was beside him, her cigarette smoke and perfume reeking up the room....
"You used to be on TV, right, BoJack?" Todd asks, snapping his companion back to the present. "What was it called again?"
"Horsin' Around?" BoJack asks, beyond surprised that Todd is seemingly oblivious to the masterpiece that consumed his twenties. "You never watched it? Not to brag, but it was a pretty big deal during its run."
"Nope."
"Seriously? Not a single fucking episode?"
"Nope," Todd replies yet again with a shrug. Suddenly his face lights up, and he's stealing the remote back. "Hey, I've gotta see it though, right? I mean, you were the star! I wanna see what you looked like back then!"
BoJack can't help but give his roommate a long, hard look over. Todd never saw his show. Todd never saw him as the lovable, goofball dad who made corny jokes and always fixed shit by the end of the episode.
Jesus, that explains a lot.
"Hey, look! They have the pilot on demand!" Todd exclaims, squirming around to get comfortable. "You up for watching it?"
"Sure."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
It's dark outside when BoJack wakes up, he's not sure if it's late at night or early in the morning.
"BoJack?"
Todd looks so small standing in the bedroom doorway like that. He's still holding his car keys and gazing across the bedroom with a resigned look of disappointment.
"What time is it?"
"A little after four. I got a call. Apparently you were trying to drive yourself home."
"I have a license, I can drive," BoJack spits, slurring horribly as he tries to focus on pronouncing the words correctly. He does speak English, right?
"Not like this you can't."
"Fuck off, Todd."
Todd stays standing in the doorway until BoJack drifts off again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"You know you're my friend, right?"
BoJack glances over to see that the kid is bright red, clearly embarrassed by this confession.
"You took me in when no one else would, even though it was a burden. So, uh...thanks, BoJack."
BoJack wants to smile, his lips are trying to curl up, but the horse refuses to lose his footing. He doesn't think Todd is a burden, he thinks that Todd is the best damn thing that's ever happened to him, but he refuses to say it.
He can't say it.
'You're a coward,' His mother hisses in his ear. 'Such a fucking coward, BoJack.'
"No problem, Todd," BoJack manages to grit out. "My couch would look...empty without you on it."
The kid fucking beams.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
BoJack never uses the pool, he doesn't even know why he paid to have it put in. He hates swimming, he hates getting wet, so he assumes it was the status symbol. Oh, look, I have a fucking pool! I have money and am very, very happy!
Bull shit, but that's how it is.
"You sure you don't wanna get in, BoJack?" Todd asks, damp hair hanging in his face as he grips onto the edge of the pool, grinning ear to ear. "It's not that cold once you go all the way under!"
BoJack shakes his head in refusal but smiles. At least someone's using the pool now, so that's an upside to their living arrangement.
At least someone's living here, finally.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"Why won't you drink with me?" BoJack asks, looking downright offended in his drunken stupor. "C'mon, Todd, you pussy!"
Todd laughs uneasily and shakes his head, holding up his half drained bottle of beer as proof of his alcohol consumption. "I do drink, BoJack, I just-"
"Can't keep up with me, huh?" The horse asks, a look of self-pity washing over his face. "I guess I am the fastest guy there is when it comes to drowning my sorrows in booze."
"Don't get like that, man. I've told you before, there's a ton of places out there that will help you-"
"I don't want help, Todd, I want another bottle of beer," BoJack interrupts, not in the mood for a heart-to-heart or Todd's worried face. "Hit me up."
The kid hesitates, looking between BoJack and the freezer before giving in, knowing that his friend will just help himself if he doesn't enable. Life's fucked up and cruel that way.
"Drink faster, Chavez! You drink like a goddamn mormon!" BoJack says with a snort, cracking open a new bottle. "Don't you ever drink more than two bottles?"
"I try not to," Todd admits, avoiding eye contact as he gazes off out the window. "You know...I worry about you Bojack..."
The horse snorts again, downing the entire bottle in two chugs to avoid over thinking what Todd just said. No one should ever be worried about him, he's not worth any of that. He's an alcoholic sack of shit who prefers to live in the past instead of the present because living as an actual adult is too fucking hard.
"BoJack?"
"Don't be a pussy, Todd. Shut up and hit me up."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Princess Carolyn sits in the claustrophobic booth, waiting for BoJack and Todd to show up. It is Todd's birthday, after all, it would be rude for BoJack to be a no-show. Like extremely, unforgivably rude.
"Hey, Princess Carolyn!" The kid chirps as he slides in the booth across from her, burying his face in the menu before she can get a read on his emotions. "Thanks for coming."
"Of course, Todd. Happy birthday!" She says, smiling in the most maternal way she can, watching him anxiously drum his fingers atop the table. "Having a good day so far?"
"Pretty good."
Princess Carolyn nods, surprised that BoJack's not here yet. Why didn't they come together? Is BoJack out getting a late present? Is it insensitive to ask?
"I got you a little something," Carolyn continues awkwardly, digging around in her purse for the gift wrapped package. "It's nothing much, but I thought you'd appreciate it."
"Aw, you didn't have to get me anything, Princess Carolyn," Todd replies, dropping the menu to shoot her a smile.
"Weeeeell, I did!"
He rips off the wrapping paper and smiles yet again when he lays eyes upon a new blanket; fresh, clean, and without holes. "Aw, jeez, seriously-"
"No, no, I had to!" Carolyn continues with another smile. "Lunch is on me, as well, okay? Don't worry about it."
Todd turns bright red, smiling like crazy as he holds the blanket up to his face, holding it close like a child would a stuffed animal. "So uh, are we ready to order?"
Carolyn nods, taking this opportunity in stride like the businesswoman she is. "I am, but where's BoJack?"
Todd's face falls. "Oh."
"Oh what?" Carolyn asks, feeling her stomach clench in mixed anger and disappointment. "Is he not coming?"
"No. He texted me on my way here, he got...side-tracked...at a strip club."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
The silence consumes them for several seconds, Carolyn desperately trying to think of what to say as Todd stares down at the table, looking all kinds of sad.
Carolyn wants to tell Todd to move out, because as someone who used to be a prominent figure in BoJack's life, she knows damn well that he's a creature of habit. BoJack won't change, now or ever, and Todd's a sweet kid who deserves to be treated better.
This isn't the first time Todd's been let down by BoJack either; almost every time Princess Carolyn stops by the has-been actor is insulting Todd, calling him crude, hurtful names and occasionally throwing nearby empty beer cans at him. BoJack makes the kid sleep on the sofa and forces him to do all the labour around the house by simply refusing to lift a finger.
But Todd cares about the miserable has-been, which does nothing but complicate the situation.
"I'm here."
“I know. Thanks, Princess Carolyn."
"Hey...I have some connections in real-estate, I could set you up with a really nice apartment down town? Just think about it, your own bedroom, your own bed...what do you think?" Carolyn offers with a hopeful smile, reaching across the table to grab Todd's wrist.
She sucks in a heavy breath when he shakes his head in shy refusal.
"I can't move out..."
"Todd-"
"No, it's just...I don't think he can take care of himself, Princess Carolyn. I do a lot for him, and I'd never forgive myself if something happened because I left..." Todd explains quietly, still refusing to make eye contact. "He....he needs me."
That's a fucking slap to the face, because if Carolyn doesn't understand how that feels no one will.
"You have to start thinking about yourself, Todd, your own mental health."
Todd shrugs, shooting her a timid grin. "I can take care of myself, but he can't take of himself. I can't leave. Like, I mean, I can, but..."
"Once you get out you'll feel better...yeah, the guilt feels overwhelming at first, and it sucks, but you really do need to think about your own wellbeing, Todd. Living with someone like that isn't healthy, it skews reality and creates lifelong feelings of shame, guilt, and self-hatred...I'm worried about you."
Todd hesitates to reply, fidgeting with his new blanket as a distraction.
"He reminds me of my dad," he finally mumbles, tensing up. "I see a lot of my dad in him."
"Oh."
When the waitress comes by Princess Carolyn orders Todd a milkshake and fries before he can even open his mouth.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"He's my friend," BoJack mumbles into the phone, glancing back over his shoulder to see Todd balancing various plates on his fingers. "I'm just asking you to stop trying to turn him against me."
"He deserves better," Carolyn replies sternly, whiskers twitching. "You know that, right?"
BoJack hangs up without a reply.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The beer bottle slips from his grasp before he can help it, drenching the carpet in alcohol and making the entire bedroom smell like a brewery.
"Fuck!" BoJack hisses, angrily kicking at a nearby dresser. "Fuck!"
"Jesus, BoJack," Todd mutters, pinching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. "That stinks."
"You know what stinks, Todd? You not cleaning this shit up!"
Todd pauses, warily looking BoJack over, before finally shuffling out of the room to get some paper towels.
BoJack sits down at the foot of his bed, feeling his mother's cold breath on the back of his neck as she puffs away on a cigarette, slowly but surely filling the room with hazy, toxic smoke.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"Do you love any of the women you have sex with?"
Todd knows it's a stupid question, but he's curious. So many different faces with different stories that BoJack doesn't even bother to learn, he has to feel some magnetic pull every once in awhile, right? One that's not from his dick.
"No," BoJack replies vaguely, passing Todd the keg and staring up at the ceiling fan. "The only one I loved was Princess Carolyn. I loved her so much, and now she's gone...because I'm a loser."
Todd hums. "I don't think that's why, BoJack. I think it's because you loved her so much but don't love yourself at all..."
"You belong in a Hallmark movie, kid."
"Sorry."
"No," BoJack mutters, a moment of weakness overtaking him and making him sappy. "That's a good thing. A really good thing."
"Oh..." Todd mumbles, smiling sleepily. "Thanks."
"How about you, Todd? You love any of the men you have sex with?"
"What?"
BoJack pauses, biting his lip and feeling awkward. "Aren't you gay?"
"No...I don't think so, anyway," Todd responds with a yawn. "I've never had sex before...not with a dude and not with a chick."
BoJack laughs so hard that he accidentally hits his head on the bed's headboard. "You've never had sex?! Ever?!"
Todd doesn't answer, he just laughs along as the corners of the bedroom blur together.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"Do you ever hate yourself, BoJack?"
"That's a dumb question, Todd."
"No, like, do you ever think that you're worthless and that you don't have a purpose?"
"No...because I've got you to talk to."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
It's midnight when BoJack wakes Todd up, unceremoniously flopping onto the sofa.
"What?" Todd asks worriedly, staring the horse over and rubbing at his eyes.
"No one will remember me when I die, moron," BoJack says, eyes wild and looking out of breath. "I'm a walking memory that's fading every single day..."
"Wow, heavy shit for this late, dude, gimme a second to wake up," Todd says through a yawn, sitting up in his blanket nest. "BoJack, why...what..."
"I'm dying, Todd, and when I do finally kick it, no one's going to remember me! I'm...I'm nothing, Todd! Nothing but a stupid, worthless speck in a huge painting...a single brush stroke..." BoJack rants nervously, sweating profusely. It's evident that he's high, but his distress makes Todd feel sick, nevertheless.
"I'll remember you," he offers weakly. "And you have your show, right? And me."
BoJack let's out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his mane and shaking his head. "I don't have anything, Todd...I'm nothing."
Todd tries not to feel hurt by this statement, and simply gives his friend a reassuring hug when he begins to sob.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"What the fuck is this?" BoJack asks bitterly, glaring at the TV screen. "Who's this woman laughing like she owns the studio?"
"Beats me," Todd replies, still half asleep. "I'm only half-watching here, but from what I've picked up she used to be on some telenovela...she's an actress."
"Why is she on the Ellen show?"
"She wrote some book about her life that made some major waves..." Todd mumbles, rolling over to face the TV screen. "She talked about some heavy topics like how mainstream eating disorders and sexual assault are in Hollywood."
BoJack raises an eyebrow, interest peaked. "Her show's over?"
"Yeah, like, years ago. My mom used to watch it."
"And she's on the Ellen Show for her biography?" BoJack asks hopefully, a figurative light bulb going off over his head. "Everyone's paying attention to her again?"
"Well, like I said, she talked about some weighty topics most people steer clear of-"
"Yeah, yeah," BoJack mumbles, smiling to himself as he already starts to mentally draft the prologue. Oh, where to start, where to start. One cannot make mistakes when deciding how to sign their name into the eternal stars.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"How's the writing going?" Todd asks as he pokes his head into BoJack's office, smiling.
"Goddamnit, Todd, you made me lose my focus!" BoJack snaps with an exaggerated sigh, throwing down his tape recorder with a huff. "What do you want?"
"I bought some doughnuts to help get the creative juices flowing," Todd says, brandishing the box. "I got glazed ones, the way you like them."
BoJack can't suppress his smile, motioning for his friend to come take a seat in front of him. "Thanks, Todd...I'm tired of trying to figure out this chapter, so, uh...maybe we could catch a movie?"
"Really?" Todd asks, looking excited as a puppy about to greet its owner. "You mean it? We're gonna hang out?"
"Yeah, I mean it."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The book isn't getting anywhere after three months, but BoJack's not giving up. Sure, he's not making any progress at all, but he already contacted a publishing house and has several deadlines set up that he has no plans of meeting.
It's the thought that counts, right?
Todd hasn't really done anything these last few months himself, jumping from job to job and smoking pot in his free time. Princess Carolyn offered him a job as her personal assistant out of pity, but Todd declined. He would've taken it, but BoJack seemed insanely jealous at the mere thought of Todd working for his ex.
Todd gets it, he knows how Bojack functions.
"Chapter one," BoJack hums to himself, staring at the blinking red light that indicates that the tape recorder is on. "Chapter One...chapter one, one, one!"
'What the hell are you doing, BoJack?' His mother asks from the shadowy corner, rolling her eyes as she shakes her head. 'You're wasting your time, falandering around with the thought of writing about yourself... narcissist.'
BoJack scoffs and turns off the recorder, admitting to himself that he truly isn't accomplishing anything here today...or tomorrow. Maybe Todd's up for a spirited game of Twister or an afternoon of drinking. They could go down to the beach and lay in the sand for awhile, whatever strikes their fancy. Todd won't say no, he never does.
He just leaps at the opportunity to spend time with BoJack.
'He's a waste of time, too,' His mother says with a cluck of her tongue. ‘What does he do besides empty your fridge and make a dent in your couch?’
"He's a pretty damn good friend," BoJack replies, answering himself as he gets up out of his chair. "Even when I'm not."
'He deserves better,' Princess Carolyn's voice rings in his head. 'You know that, right?'
BoJack doesn't reply because, yes, he knows.