Chapter Text
Ambient sunlight shone through the small apartment window. Wherever the light touched, you could see scattered dust particles swirling above the wooden table. It might have come to your attention that I referred to not just a wooden table, but a specific one.
This table was the small, chipped desk in Joey Drew’s living room. He and Sammy were currently awkwardly sat across from each other, each with a coffee mug in hand. Both of them had reluctantly agreed to sit down and talk about everything that had happened for the past few decades; however, now that they were here, neither of them knew where to start.
“Why?” Eventually, Sammy was to first person to engage with the other.
Joey looked up from inspecting the wood grain on his table to acknowledge this… extremely vague question.
“Why what?” Joey asked, his question sounding oblivious and almost innocent- like a question some child would ask.
Sammy met his blinking stare with frustration. “You’d think someone would remember meddling with the occult and driving his hellish studio into bankruptcy.”
“Alright, calm down.” Joey rolled his eyes. “I did everything for a reason.” When he was met with an aggressively doubtful look, Joey sighed and continued. “I thought I was doing good for the studio. You know.. Success and innovation are worth a few sacrifices and all that. Maybe I got a bit caught up in spite after Henry left, and I’m sorry about-” He stopped to gesture vaguely towards Sammy, whose hair was previously blond and now entirely black.
“ ’A bit caught up in spite?’ Very funny, Joey; feels like you restored thirty years worth of my sanity with that one-liner.” Sammy paused to take a breath, shakily leaning back on his chair. “If Henry leaving left that much impact on you, maybe you should rethink your priorities. You know, think for once.”
Joey thought for a moment; maybe a few seconds more than moment, but what he considered to be a short time before responding with the one thing he strongly believed to be the truth.
“I cared about him. More than you could comprehend.”
Sammy could’ve laughed. He didn’t believe a single thing that came out of Joey’s mouth. In fact, thanks to Mr. Drew himself, he had spent the past thirty years of his life believing in something pointless in a studio where time was a nonexistent concept.
“You.. didn’t care about Henry. You were infatuated with the idea of him. Someone who wouldn’t complain when you took their name off your collaborative masterpieces, correct?” Sammy straightened up, making bitter eye contact with Joey. “You were obsessed with him.”
Joey knew he had to stop himself. After all, there were no denying that he put his studio family through an immense amount of suffering. Henry broke the loop and everyone who came back from the studio now looked almost exactly like they did before everything had happened- this was his chance at redemption. Sammy was infuriating him, sure, but he had to stop himself. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say-
“Oh, and you’d know all about being obsessive, wouldn’t you?”
[cue cartoon laugh track.]
Joey felt conflicting waves of underlying guilt and satisfaction from watching the other process what he’d just said.
“That’s- not..” Before Sammy could continue with his halted, flushed reply, a pair of broad shoulders occupied the doorway behind him. The faint squeaks from the friction of metal was too familiar and exclusive to a certain someone that his presence was instantly recognizable.
“Morning, Tommy,” said Joey, as if to completely disregard the previous conversation. Tom looked at Joey, then at Sammy before he turned away and wordlessly headed for the kitchen cupboards. An issue was that the kitchen was part of the living room, meaning he had no escape from the inevitable conversation which would come his way.
“We were.. talking,” Joey explained with his eyes glued on Tom’s prosthetic metal arm. It moved so naturally; a fine work of engineering indeed.
“I could see that,” Tom replied gruffly, his back still turned from the two at the table. He was busy rummaging through the cupboards for a mug to make coffee in and was in no mood to humor anyone.
When he eventually discovered that the two which were currently being used were the only coffee mugs in the house, he exhaled exhaustedly and finally spun to face the dreaded interaction.
Old, worn-out Joey Drew and significantly younger in appearance but equally worn-out Sammy Lawrence. They were both staring at him as if they were expecting him to say something. This uncomfortable silence was so long that Tom nearly started when Sammy spoke again. Of course, the tension wasn’t helped by the fact that everyone was on edge due to the past few days’ circumstances.
“You owe me an apology,” Sammy scowled eventually, directing his attention back to Joey. “You left everything in shambles and somewhat taped the mess back together. That doesn’t bring back thirty years, Joey; how hard is it to understand that? Don’t make this about me and what I did wrong.”
“You did a lot of things wrong,” Tom offered, glancing at Sammy.
“Thanks, Tom. I take medication for intermittent headaches thanks to you.” Sammy, perhaps with a bit too much force, pointed at the back of his head where Tom’s very axe had been plunged into numerous times.
“You would’ve killed Henry,” Tom snapped back, walking to stand over where Sammy was seated. “He got us out of the studio, maybe he deserves some respect as a human life form? Didn’t decades of thinking things over teach you some manners?”
Sammy got up with such hostility that his chair tumbled over and hit the wall with a loud crash.
“Couldn’t you have done anything else?” Sammy asked with a desperate kind of anger which was seen often with him. “Pushed me? Knocked me out? The entire time we were stuck there, I don’t recall anyone trying to reason with me- oh, wait . I couldn’t be reasoned with. I don’t know what gave you the idea that I was capable of fixing some attitude problem you think I have, Tom, or even holding a proper conversation, but that’s my point. I couldn’t think straight- this shouldn’t be about me.”
Tom glared back at Sammy with an equal amount of loathing as he was being given.
“ What ,” Tom said through his teeth, “did I say about calling me ‘Tom’?”
Nothing could’ve described Sammy’s expression better than pure incredulity. For a second, he stood dumbfounded and looking like he wanted to express something other than shock. Of course, expression wasn’t his strong suit; he proceeded to storm away and violently slam the door behind him.
“Shame,” Joey sighed, tiredly gazing at the door through which Sammy had left. A sudden thought crossed his mind, but he decided to leave it behind him for now. “I’m gonna have to ask him to talk again. I hated doing that the first time.”