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Yurts Buttercup spent most of their days alone. They loved to garden, and put incredible time and effort into maintaining the various species of Atlantean plants they’d installed in and around the Bubble. When they weren’t gardening alone, they were with the Georgias, never speaking but being a calming presence nonetheless. Whether it was as a grounding hand or a shoulder to cry on, Yurts Buttercup was often described as a friend to all.
“Sup, dickwad?”
Yurts Buttercup was not a friend of Steals Chark.
“Didn’t know we had a garden,” she said, smirking in such a way as to show off her many sharp teeth, “what kinda ballpark has a garden anyway? Seems useless.” She picked up one of the plants off the wall, a large pink flower with glowing red petals, and took one look at it before throwing it over her shoulder, where it floated quickly to the ground and cracked its pot.
Yurts didn’t get angry, of course. Yurts didn’t think they’d ever been angry at anyone, even if right now it was taking a bit more effort than usual to keep calm. They just walked calmly over to where the pot, gently picked it up, and placed it back on the shelf. Turning, they came face-to-face with Steals, who floated cross-legged in the water and looking directly into the face panel on Yurts’ suit.
“So, are you some kinda fuckin’ robot or somethin?” Steals asked, getting uncomfortably close to Yurts’ body. She put one hand on one of the buttercups on top of Yurts’ head, and Yurts felt instant pain. It coursed through the interconnected network of flowers like lightning, causing them to involuntarily flinch and push Steals off a bit more forcefully than they likely should have.
“Damn, dude!” Steals shouted as she floated back, doing a lazy spin in the water before resuming her sitting position. “I was just looking, Jesus, dude. Talk about a freakshow.” One leg kicked out against another shelf to push her towards the exit, where she grabbed the door frame and completely ignored the crash of the shelf falling before exiting. “Catch ya later, loser. Siobhan’s pitching in feedback against the Tigers later, and I gotta go grab some popcorn so I can be properly immersed when she literally gets sent to hell. It’s gonna be great, you should be there!” With that, Steals pushed herself out the door and up into Atlantis proper, leaving Yurts alone with a ruined garden and lingering jolts of pain.
If they had lungs, they would have sighed. Instead, they just started cleaning up.
~~~~~~~
The door to Yurts’ garden burst open, and Steals Chark rushed in through the door as shelves and tools rattled around the room.
“Siobhan feedbacked again already, dude! She’s in Breckenridge now! She’s gonna fucking hate it there!” A crazed smile crossed her face as she swam over to Yurts in record speed, who had not yet turned around. She planted both hands directly onto Yurts back, pressing hard into the buttercups that littered it.
If Yurts had eyes, they would have started tearing up. The most intense, indescribable pain filled their body as they whipped around, large metal hands grabbing Steals’ skinny arms and pulling them up as they did so. Steals immediately gained a look of shock mixed with fear, instinctually trying to kick off of Yurts’ chest, before they moved one hand in front and Steals just kicked metal.
“What the actual FUCK, Yurts!?” Steals screamed, flailing in their metallic grip. As she did, though, her eyes roamed Yurts’ body, noticing the way they were positioned, the protective hands in front of the flowers adorning their suit. “I didn’t know about the fucking flowers! I’m sorry, now let me the fuck go!”
Yurts waited a few beats, perhaps more than what was strictly necessary, but eventually obliged. Steals immediately pushed off of the ceiling and away, rubbing her arms as she spun in the water. A grimace crossed her face as she glared at Yurts, her eyes hiding only a twinge of guilt.
“I’m sorry, dude, jeez.” Steals swam back towards the door, opening it a bit more gently than when she’d come in. She opened her mouth to say something else, before slowly closing it, glaring at Yurts, and swiftly leaving.
If Yurts had lungs, they would have sighed.
~~~~~~~
“Soooo,” the door swung open as Steals began to speak, which Yurts had been becoming weirdly accustomed to, “bad news for you, buddy. I know you’re a Jazz Hands fan, but Frankie says they might not make it to the Vault in time, and Rigby says they definitely won’t make it, and you and I both know Frankie’s a sappy dumbass. They’ve only got a day, anyway, so say your goodbyes now, el em ay oh.”
This time, Yurts actually turned to view Steals as she spoke. Immediately, they noticed Steals seemed different; her hair was sloppily done, as if in a rush, and her voice had something of an edge to it. Her foot tapped anxiously in the middle of the water, so she unconsciously held a hand on the ceiling as she slowly floated upwards.
Yurts continued to look at Steals, even after she’d finished speaking, as it was what they did best. Watch, and be there. This time, though, it didn’t seem to be enough. A frown slowly grew on her face as Yurts continued to blank stare up, which slowly grew into a snarl.
“Say something, asshole,” Steals said, the edge in her voice growing as she swam down, incredibly close to Yurts, “do you have any idea how infuriating it is to talk to you? You’re like a brick wall! I come all the way down here, out of my way just to brighten your day, and you just...stare at me! The entire time! It’s fucking annoying!”
Steals raised one fist as if to punch in the glass pane on Yurts’ suit, but just before she did her eyes widened as she noticed the flower she was inches from striking. She slowly took notice of every buttercup on Yurts’ body, and then the flowers on the shelves, and hanging from the ceiling, and all around her, surrounding her, pressing in on her.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” Steals lied, and rushed out the door.
If Yurts had lungs, they would have sighed.
~~~~~~~
The door to Yurts’ garden swung open, and they mentally braced themselves for their day to get significantly worse. Turning, they barely saw a blurry shape rushing towards them before it impacted, arms wrapping around their back. Instantly, Yurts expected pain.
…
…
...but there was none. Arms wrapped around his back in such a way as to perfectly avoid the buttercups dotting his body as Steals hugged them, sobbing into their shoulder. For a moment, Yurts was stunned into inaction, arms hanging limply in the water.
Slowly, they wrapped their arms around Steals’ back as they cried. They shifted their focus to the map on their desk, which had updated while they were distracted.
Day 99.
The Jazz Hands didn’t make it.
Yurts hugged her tighter.