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The best part of sharing the house with Duck and Yellow, in Red’s opinion, was how different all three of them were.
It certainly kept things interesting on dull days when the teachers didn’t show up. Red knew about television shows and creative writing, which meant he could tell stories that kept the other two entertained for hours.
The Duck knew quite a bit about wars - literally any war, actually, and an alarming amount, and maybe they’d need to check up on that, eventually. Regardless, it meant he could build models with them or explain strategic board game plans or even just fill their time with fun facts.
And Yellow, of course, was the most teachable of them all. It was easy to talk to him and fun to see what he knew. Sometimes the guy could explain what the tip of a shoelace was - aglet, and he’d even sang whole song by himself about it - but other days he couldn’t tell you where shoes were meant to fit on the body.
So yes, their differences were nice.
Doubly, it was also the worst part of living together.
For instance, right now. Red settled in his kitchen chair, reading the newspaper. It never said anything helpful, but since Duck only read the obituaries and car sales page, Red liked to try his hand at getting through the rest of it. Peace and quiet were his favorite parts of the day, when they weren’t singing or learning or dying horrible, horrible deaths.
And of course, his clump ruined it.
“You little pig!” Duck screeched loudly, directly behind him. Red nearly toppled out of the chair, glancing behind him. “Brat! Give me the book!”
“No!” another voice shouted. Feeling vaguely caught in a tennis match, Red turned in his chair to face the other direction.
Sure enough, there was Yellow. His arms folded across his chest, eyes dull, but with a messily-taped book pressed against his chest. Red didn’t know why, but his stomach flipped just looking at it.
Yellow made an angry, growling noise, braver than they’d ever seen before. “No, it’s mine! It’s important, and you can’t have it, it’s for me!”
“Well, too bad! I’m the dad, I say we’re throwing it away again! It makes everything all wrong!” Duck stomped forward, glaring, and Red quickly looked away. His gaze landed on the paper in his hands, but none of the letters seemed to focus. After another moment, he realized his hands were shaking against the grip.
If he ignored them long enough, maybe they’d stop fighting and everything would go back to normal.
God, where did Yellow even get that book from? His memory was hazy - something about the house, no doubt - but he could just barely remember Yellow, coming downstairs, toting a new book with him.
And then the shredder.
“Oh no you don’t, get back here!”
“Stop it! It’s not yours!”
He must have dug it back out of the trash, Red thought, doggedly ignoring the noises behind him as the two fought. That was a pretty impressive feat, especially for their slower friend. Red wondered if Yellow managed to tape it back together correctly, or if he’d simply started sticking pieces randomly. It wouldn’t be surprising.
“Give it here, you useless twat!”
“Leave me alone! Go away!”
The whole thing made Red a little queasy. Something about that book was… off. Yellow acted like it was important when he first brought it, and even now, without those charged batteries, he still guarded the thing from Duck.
It was all so confusing. Red didn’t even know who to root for in their fight.
Their voices and shrieks and howls got louder and louder, until Red finally spun around, standing. He stepped forward, entirely unsure which one he aimed to help.
“Hey!” he started, marching across their tiny kitchen. “Would you two-“
In that moment, three things happened.
First, Yellow, who fought for his life against the winged onslaught from Duck, threw the book behind his back. Making himself a shield between Duck and his target.
Second, Duck reached out and, with no book to snatch, settled on grabbing Yellow’s overalls. Fist locked on the fabric, Duck yanked, and the battery compartment Yellow was usually so protective of flew open.
And third, the batteries popped out. A combination of the force from Duck and Yellow’s movement, no doubt. The two little cylinders clattered to the floor and, with a three-person audience, rolled under the fridge.
Everyone stopped abruptly, watching as the batteries vanished from sight. Red froze midstep, Duck still holding Yellow by the overalls, and Yellow on his tip-toes, mouth agape.
“Oh,” Yellow said softly, like the sound had been punched out of him.
And then his knees gave out, crashing to the floor.
“No!” Duck shrieked, and his voice was much more scared than it had been when the book was involved. He scrambled to Yellow’s side, halfway supporting him as the Yellow one wobbled in place.
Red didn’t remember moving, later. It just seemed like suddenly he was there too, helping to hold his friend.
“The batteries, we have to get the batteries back,” Red was saying. He hated his tone, giving away too much anxiety and desperation, but Duck didn’t seem to notice at all in his own terror.
All it took was Yellow to bring them all together. In the fog of memory, Red could recall having done this before. The heart-stopping fear when Yellow’s batteries died, or when he ran out of energy from eating, or when he took his own batteries out-
Red shook his head sharply, shaking away the memories. He had to stay focused.
“Oh,” Yellow kept saying, eyes wide and unseeing. “Oh.” And then, a break in the pattern, something wild and a little afraid on his face. “I’m sorry. I - I didn’t mean - mean to.”
“Hush,” Red cut in, running a hand through his blue, unkempt hair. Kneeling on the kitchen tiles, Yellow propped against him, Red never wanted to run away more. As if he could escape this terrible reality. “It’s gonna be okay.”
He didn’t want to look at Yellow’s face, twitching and scared and uncontrolled, but when he tried to tear his gaze away, he saw the empty box for his batteries, and that was somehow worse.
He settled for looking up at the fridge.
To his credit, Duck embodied a man on a mission. Laying on his side and stretching his wjng underneath, he wriggled and flexed and cursed to himself. It wasn’t until he was practically halfway under the refrigerator that he finally gave up.
“They’re too far back,” he snarled, more upset than Red had ever seen him. “I can’t reach them and they’re gone and this is all my fault-“
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, s-sorry,” Yellow muttered to himself, eyes slipping shut. “I’m…’m gonna sleep now.”
Everything was spiraling out of control, his clump falling apart as Red watched helplessly.
Something splintered deep inside him. Maybe a protective instinct from another life, or just a feeling Red had never known before. Whatever it was, it burned through him suddenly, and for the first time in so long, the world was nearly clear around him.
They needed the yellow one, the youngest and kindest and gentlest one of them, and Duck would drown in guilt for having killed him. Red wouldn’t let either of those things happen.
He could fix this. He would fix this.
In one fluid motion, Red stood from the ground, Yellow gathered in his arms. The kid was impossibly small, even as Red crouched by the fridge. Duck looked up as Red approached, and there was no mistaking the tears in his eyes.
“Take him,” Red commanded quietly, passing an unresponsive Yellow over to Duck’s care. Duck startled at the instruction but his hold was steady. “When you can see the batteries, grab them and put them back in, as fast as you can.”
“What are you doing?” Duck asked, openly staring, and Red’s yarn swayed with his huff of laughter.
“I’m gonna lift the fridge,” he answered, with half a smile.
Bewildered, Duck glanced between the figure cradled in his arms and his biggest, best friend. “Is that even possible?” he said, brow furrowed, but he scooted closer anyway.
“It will be,” Red said, and then he planted his hands and feet and pushed.
Despite its cartoony appearance, the fridge was shockingly heavy. Almost immediately it slipped from his red mitts, and Red scrambled to get a better handhold while bracing with his back. Inch by inch it levered backwards, raising too slowly.
Entirely uncaring of the danger, Duck’s hand darted underneath. “More!” he shouted, flailing. “I need more space!”
Red flexed harder, pushing for everything he was worth. It lifted just a bit more.
“There! Stay right there!” Duck bossed, determination burning bright in his tone. “I’ve almost got the batteries!”
“I can’t hold it much longer,” Red grit out. It was true - already he could feel his body giving way, unable to handle the immense weight. Even more dangerously, Duck was still halfway under the fridge. He would be crushed.
Finally the fridge moved, dragging Red down with it, and Red closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch.
Something shifted, and Red blinked, looking down. The fridge wasn’t falling anymore.
The book, spine distorted out of shape and nearly bending over, propped up the side by Duck. With his little yellow hand still clutching the cover where he’d shoved it in place, Yellow smiled. His face was exhausted and pained and clouded, but his smile was real.
“I g-got it,” he whispered, going lax. “I s-saved the-the other one.”
Fondness overwhelmed Red, ballooning into his chest and burning his eyes with tears.
The three of them really were the perfect team.
Duck popped out suddenly, hands in a Vice grip. “I’ve got them!” he yelped, frantically wiping off the dust bunnies off. “Hurry hurry hurry-“
Red snatched them from his hand, slamming them down into Yellow’s battery box with too much force and Red didn’t even care-
Yellow gasped, like a drowning man desperate for oxygen. He windmilled his arms, trying to sit up, and Red and Duck both dove to help him.
“Thank you,” Yellow said as he wheezed for breath, hand pressed where his heart would be. He glanced back towards the fridge, shuddering a little. “I didn’t think…I thought you’d be too mad to fix me.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Duck said, lightly whacking him on the back of the head before diving in for a hug. Yellow giggled breathlessly. “You’re dumb all the time. Even if you‘re being weird and keeping the creepy book, I’ll still help you.”
“The book did come in handy,” Red admitted, glancing over. It resembled a sad lump more than anything now, but maybe they could salvage it. They’d gone through enough trouble for it, at least. “That was really smart, mate.
“Really?” Yellow asked, pulling back from the hug to blink up at Red earnestly. “I just didn’t want to see the other one get smashed.”
“Really,” Red confirmed, before rolling his eyes. “And no more wrestling, unless we wanna tape his battery box shut. Now let’s go look at that book of yours.”
Duck grumbled, certainly, but he was the first one to reach back and help Yellow to his feet, looping an arm over his own shoulders to hold him steady, and Red let himself smile.
Those two were his favorite nightmares.