Chapter Text
Static was seriously regretting his decision to try to find Infinity. The con he had heard they were going to be at was too much. Too many people, and too much light , and far too many costumes with purple fucking skin. This was meant to be easy. Purple skin. In broad daylight. Not fucking hard to find. But no, he was stuck in a hot, disgusting crowd, looking for Deity that hated his guts.
Static felt someone tap on his shoulder, and turned around to see the person who was trying to get his attention. He scowled, seeing another person in one of those ridiculous costumes, “What do you want?”
The person offered him a smile, “Did you make your wig? It’s really well done. How did you get the static effects on it?”
Static instinctively reached up to touch his hair in confusion, “It’s not a wig.” His scowl deepened.
“You made your real hair look like that?” The person's eyebrows shot up.
Static made a frustrated noise, trying not to snap at them. His hand shot out, grabbing the guy’s wrist. “You want to get out of the crowd. Sit down. Rest your feet.”
The person’s eyes filled with static, “I do want to get out of the crowd.” They repeated, before wandering off.
Static tensed as another person brushed against him, gritting his teeth. He inhaled sharply through his nose, before looking out over the crowd, trying to see anyone who looked vaguely like Infinity.
“What are you doing here,” drawled a familiar voice at his side, and Static’s attention snapped to where Infinity was standing at his side.
“What are you doing here?” Static snapped, “Actually whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here.”
“Let me get this straight,” Infinity glared at Static, “You, the guy who killed my best friend, the guy I wouldn’t hesitate to curb stomp, want to talk to me. In a private setting.”
Static took a deep breath, counting to three in his head before replying, “I need to get out of this crowd. And I need to talk to you.”
Infinity ignored him, “Why are you coming to me? Why now? You had fucked off for a year without contacting anyone.”
Static blinked, “I told Lambent where I was and which therapist I was seeing.” Another person brushed against Static and he hissed under his breath.
“Fine.” Infinity crossed their arms, “We can move to one of the tables outside the con. But only because you look like you’re about to cry.”
-
They had situated themselves at one of the picnic tables outside the venue. Infinity was sitting across from Static, still glaring at him.
“So,” Static steepled his fingers, looking over them at Infinity, “To be blunt, I need your help.”
“Help with what,” Infinity narrowed their eyes.
Static hummed slightly, “To um. Get back into contact with Lambent and Sweetheart.”
“No.” Infinity’s response was immediate.
“Why not,” Static snapped, then caught himself, “I mean. I would appreciate it if you would tell me why you can’t.”
“For one, Sweet’s in rehab,” Infinity counted off on their fingers, “Lambent’s busy, and oh yeah! None of them want to see you ever again.”
Static exhaled, “Ok.”
“Ok?” Infinity prompted, looking a bit worried.
“Just ok. I won’t force them. I am disappointed, I admit, but I will respect their choices.”
“You won't stalk anyone?” Infinity squinted at him.
“No. I won’t.” Static shrugged, “I thought it would be nice to see them again, but it’s ok.”
Infinity sighed, “Fine. I will ask Lambent if they possibly want to see you. But I better not see any creep behavior.”
“You have my word. No creep behavior,” Static sounded vaguely amused, “Thank you Infinity.”