Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’ve gotta go!” Bob blurted, his mind scrambling to come up with excuses as his words fumbled in their haste. “Plants to tend to-! It was nice to meet you!”

Each sentence was spoken with far more energy than was needed, but Bob was acting purely on heart-pounding impulse. His adrenaline was telling him to make a break for it ASAP, and he wasn’t one to refuse the call of deeply rooted introversion. Their conversation had not lasted long, 5 or 6 minutes maybe, but that was all it took for Bob to lose any modicum of composure he had possessed at the start.

The dazzling man standing before him– Helmut, he had said his name was– blinked twice, visibly surprised by Bob’s urgent expression. His charming smile remained nonetheless; worse still, was how it was directed towards Bob in all its brilliance.

 “Alrighty then! It was nice to meet you too, Bob. Your group of friends have been the best, and I’m glad you enjoyed my music, man! Means the world, really!”

Ignoring the electric sensation he felt when the musician spoke his name, Bob only tried to nod very normally in response. He felt a twinge of gratitude for how Helmut had attempted to match Bob’s excessive enthusiasm with his own. He had come to the conclusion that Helmut was the kind of guy that was easy to talk to. Helmut had shown he could pretty much roll with whatever Bob said, and it didn’t make him feel quite as out of place, or like he was barely keeping a conversation alive. He wasn’t very good at that. 

There was an awkward beat of silence.

“That’s- it’s nothing.” Bob paused. That didn’t sound quite right. “Uh, that is to say, your music was really great and you’re obviously really talented, haha. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. It’s deserved. That’s what I meant. You deserve it.”

Bob was acutely aware he was sweating a lot. Helmut’s expression had become hard to read. There was mostly surprise there– eyes wide, brows raised. It didn’t appear like a bad reaction, but Bob didn’t feel like sticking around to figure it out.

 “Sorry, I’ve still got stuff to do. Bye.”

Bob was quick to rush off, only faintly hearing Helmut echo back his goodbye, and what might have been another thanks. 

It was embarrassing how flushed he was. Bob had practically just met the guy, and yet the feelings that blossomed in his chest were so new and foreign to him. He’d never experienced the butterfly feelings or even the physical attraction that everyone seemed to gush about in his youth– so why, now, was he experiencing those things full force in his middle age?

Everyone had always seemed so annoyingly obsessed with the warm and fuzzy feelings that now encompassed him relentlessly. They’d hyped it up to be something grand and exciting, something joyful and celebratory.

To Bob, it was terrifying.

He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, only that he was trying to get as far away from Helmut as possible, like a moth flying away from a flame. The Heptadome was the first building he saw, and it appeared inviting for the time being. The trees and foliage that surrounded his feet made a green and brown blur as his vision zeroed in on the doorway.

Bob’s sprint only slowed when he entered the building, immediately pushing his back up against the curved interior of the dome and panting. He felt like a little kid pressing his cheek against the fridge in the summer as some feeble attempt at cooling off. Each heave wracked his chest up and down and his mind spun as he rubbed at his temple, his eyes clamped shut.

“Well, you sure were in a hurry.”

Bob’s eyes snapped open and promptly narrowed. “Oh great. It’s you.” He rubbed at his eyelids warily, causing his glasses to ride up the bridge of his nose. His heart continued to thud against his chest. “Thought I saw you slip by earlier. Should’ve known you’d be here.”

“So you weren’t coming to visit me then?” Otto sighed, feigning innocence even as he smirked. “Truly, I’m hurt, Bob. Does my presence bother you that much?”

“Oh dear,” It was another meeker voice, the person in question having just entered the Heptadome. “I hope my presence isn’t bothersome. I don’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Compton.” Bob rolled his eyes when Otto caught his glance. “Otto is just being a drama queen as usual.”

“I didn’t think you thought of me so highly, Bob,” Otto remarked, with a dry little grin. “I won’t object to being compared to royalty, though drama seems to be more of Fullbear’s thing.”

“You think you’re clever or something?”

“Well, I was just leaving because I’m a little burnt out from all that interaction.” Compton cut in, likely trying to interrupt the duo’s back and forth. “And I saw you two leave so I thought it would be ok. Ford, Lucy, and dear Cassie were carrying most of the conversation with Helmut anyway. Well, aside from when you stole his attention, Bob. He seemed quite fond of you.”

“That so?” Annnnd Bob was flushing again. His feelings were intense– too intense. His interest in Helmut had been mild at first– odd traces of feelings he couldn’t quite explain intriguing him to the man– but it had only grown from there. Seeing Helmut perform for the first time soon after his arrival sparked something in Bob. Suddenly the interest in Helmut had roared with a fierce intensity that Bob was not accustomed to and hit him like the weight of a truck.

“Seems you feel the same way,” Compton said. It was casual, but there was something sly about it too that Bob didn’t want to dwell on.

Otto didn’t appear to notice anything off about either of them, instead sketching away in a notebook. “That’s nice. Though go figure he ends up here with us. We don’t have nearly the same social battery as the rest of the gang.”

“Well, yeah, I-”

“I suppose that’s part of it.” Compton made his way deeper into the Heptadome, settling down in his designated beanbag, short stature sinking into the cushion. “Ah, we’ll have to get Helmut his own beanbag..”

“Way ahead of you,” Otto replied. “I’ve been planning out what we have to do to get Helmut settled in properly. We gotta catch him up to speed with our experiments as well.”

“That’s true.” Compton mused. “Oh, but suppose we’re getting ahead of ourselves. What if he doesn’t like us and doesn’t want to stay?”

“You’re getting caught up in hypotheticals, Boole. Every psychic who’s been in a rough patch has stuck around when we asked ‘em to. Including someone as prickly as Bob.” Otto turned away from his work and towards Bob to see if the jab had landed.

There stood Bob, struggling to process the words that drifted in one ear and out the other. It was hard to listen properly when his mind wandered. How the hell was he supposed to deal with his feelings after all? That surely took priority over whatever dumb thing Otto had said that Bob already forgot.

“Hm, it’s rare you don’t try to insult me for saying something like that,” Otto observed, staring at Bob curiously. “Hello? Earth to Bob?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Speak for yourself, asshole.”

“There it is.” Otto chuckled, “Still it’s unlike you to act so delayed. For a down-to-earth guy, your head sure is stuck in the clouds right now.”

Bob snorted, trying to play it off. “That’s awfully rich coming from you Mentalis. Maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“I suppose that’s more like it. In any case, I am quite busy with this, so why don’t you keep Compton company instead? Maybe he can ascertain why you're acting off.”

“I’m not acting off!” Bob protested, to no avail, as Otto was decidedly ignoring him now.

“It doesn’t matter.” Compton gestured at a beanbag for Bob to sit in. “We’re all friends here, right?”

Bob only nodded, not wanting to give Otto the satisfaction of having Bob call him a friend. Not that it seemed like he was paying much attention anyway, turned away and focused intently on whatever plans he had for Helmut. 

Bob swayed from the safety of the wall he was leaning against, shuffling over to sit beside Compton on a separate beanbag.

Compton gave Bob a curious glance from his own beanbag position. “How do you feel about Helmut? He seems like a good guy…”

Bob had no clue why that innocent question caused his face to warm. Surely, Compton didn’t actually mean anything by that; he was just making simple conversation. Nothing for Bob to overthink. 

“He seems pretty cool.”

“You seemed to enjoy his performance a lot.”

“It was amazing,” Bob admitted. “I’ve never seen projections like that before. Kinda like those ‘figments,’ from uh, astral projection and all that, but… there. In reality.”

“It was quite fascinating.” Compton agreed readily. “I assume that’s his specialty.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Bob fiddled with his tie idly. “It seemed to come naturally when he was singing. It’s a unique way of utilizin’ visuals and story into song like that.”

“Yes. I think we can all understand why Ford wanted to recruit him.” It was Compton's turn to fidget with his tie now, his small hands wringing the fabric before he placed them back down on his lap. “Ah… sorry, thinking about such things is rather intimidating for me. But again, he seemed nice…”

“Yeah. There’s uh.. nothin’ to worry about.” The words felt hollow coming from his own mouth. He was still recovering from whatever spiraling panic had come from his newfound feelings towards the recently arrived Helmut Fullbear, and consoling Compton’s anxieties had never been his strong suit.

“Mm, I suppose so.” Compton looked reassured from hearing someone else say it, but his gaze was also distant and distracted. “I was quite surprised actually– to see how well you took to Helmut. How should I put it…? Um. I guess I never thought you’d be the type to be so drawn toward someone in that way. Or in any way at all, considering this was our first time meeting him.”

“Huh? Wh-What do ya mean?”

Hearing thoughts so similar to his own come out of someone else’s mouth made his head spin even more. It made it more real somehow. More tangible. He didn’t like that.

“Oh, it’s just.. Well.” Compton must have had a hard time wording his thoughts properly, as he petered off with uncertainty.

“You’re not exactly a social butterfly, Bob.” Otto chimed in again, cutting into the conversation despite not being a part of it whatsoever. “When you first met all of us, you didn’t act like that. Perhaps we’re rubbing off on you.”

“Please-! As if you’re much better-!” Bob huffed, his face reddening as he waved his hands dismissively. “And maybe I am! Dunno! Does it matter?”

“That could be a part of it, but no, it still felt different,” Compton mumbled. Rather than sounding timid, he almost sounded teasing. It was a tone of voice mainly reserved for gossiping with Cassie if Bob recalled correctly– not a good sign. “But, I’m not exactly one to assume.”

Bob grumbled something indistinguishable to those around him, his fingers gripping the cushion beneath him. “I haven’t gone soft or any of that nonsense. Believe what you want to believe.” They didn’t need to know that his stomach was doing cartwheels. He didn’t like the thought that Compton could be onto him, even just a little bit. He didn’t want to accept this crush to begin with.

“Ah- now, now!” Compton said, “Otto don’t tease him, please. It’s okay, Bob, it was merely um... An observation. It’s not a bad thing!”

“Ehh– I think you two lost me.” Otto gave a noncommittal shrug and focused back on his work.

“Oh well.” Compton turned to Bob with an encouraging smile. “Otto’s never understood those things, has he?”

“Understood… what?” Bob grunted out, still having trouble catching up to the conversation. Was Compton implying anything or was that something his butterfly-addled brain was feeding him? “...What doesn’t Otto understand?”

“It’s impossible for a human being to understand everything. Otto butt in. Again. “There's a lot I don’t yet understand, of course, but there’s a lot I do understand. My knowledge is ever-expanding.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that, Otto.”

“My pleasure.”

“Compton.” Bob inhaled and exhaled. His head reeled. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline from sprinting over, his intensely confusing feelings for Helmut, or the typical Otto-induced headaches. “Can you just… answer my question?”

“Hm? Oh, well..” Compton’s voice lowered to keep the conversation from unwanted ears. Namely, Otto. “I don’t want Otto to think I’m trying to insult him. I’m certainly not trying to, but words can be misconstrued, so…”

Bob gave Compton a look. “Just keep whisperin’ and it should be fine. And honestly? Who cares about Otto’s feelings? I sure don’t.”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t mean that!” Compton’s voice pitched higher, his arms waving, almost frantic. “We’re all friends here, remember?”

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” Bob grumbled, sighing with closed eyes and trying to ward off whatever was making his head feel like a thick jelly. “...You’re right I suppose. I’m just really confused, I guess. I feel all lost and jumbled all over the place. Dunno why. I really don’t get it…”

“That’s okay.” Compton smiled softly. “I don’t understand my feelings all of the time either. Cassie said it was the same for her. I think it happens to everyone. Not in the exact same ways of course, but even so.”

“Is that so?” Bob rubbed his forehead warily, eyes closed as he sunk deeper still into the cushion. “What were we talking about again? Before-? Something about Otto…”

“Oh. Hm? Nevermind that. I can explain what I meant, I suppose.” Compton fidgeted some more. “I just don’t mean to assume.”

“You’ve said that, yes.” Bob’s patience was a thin thing. “Assume what?”

“About you..” Compton continued, pushing past his hesitance. “And Helmut. About how you might like Helmut a bit, I should say.”

“About how I like Helmut..?” Bob echoed, a slow realization creeping up on him. “You uh. You think I like Helmut? As in…”

“A crush.” Compton elaborated with a swift nod. “It looked like you were crushing. Erm. Crushing hard.”

“Nuh-uh. Nope.” Bob was too tired to freak out, but he could tell his face was burning regardless of his will. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I mean, I’ve never even…!”

“Just a guess, Bob,” Compton added, a little hastily, though he didn’t sound convinced Bob was telling the truth.

Bob’s first instinct was to ignore him, but confusion swirled in his brain along with the thought that not-replying was probably more suspicious. “What does this have to do with Otto not understanding-”

“Oh, that.” Compton’s voice lowered slightly. “Just that he doesn’t understand relationships much, you know. Especially the romantic kind.”

“Huh. Yeah, I’m not surprised.” Maybe that made him a hypocrite.

“Apparently, Ford told Cassie this you see– when it was just him, Lucy, and Otto at the Gulch, he took forever to get that they were both into each other, and they were just as obvious then as they are now, really.”

“Oh great, more of your gossip.”

“If you don’t want me to say anything then I won’t, but you can talk to me about anything. You can trust me to keep an important secret.”

Bob stayed quiet, glaring uneasily at the wall instead.

“Can you trust me?”

Bob inhaled. His exhale came out long and gruff. “.....Yes. I guess I can.”

“Oh, good. So… what’s the matter? There’s nothing wrong with having a crush if that’s what it is. I’m not going to judge.”

“Is that really what it is though?” Bob’s voice cracked a little in his defeat. It was a genuine question, something that made his guts squirm even more. “Do you really think…?”

Compton placed his hand on Bob’s shoulder, gently squeezing for comfort. “I believe so. Is that what it feels like?”

Slowly Bob nodded, a few hesitant head bobs as he stared ahead rather than at Compton. Admitting it gave him very mixed feelings, and he added the mess to the pile with little fanfare. It was partially a relief to admit, but if he thought about it at all, it made him feel worse– like there was no going back.

“I think so.. Probably. I really haven’t felt anything like it before. I don’t…. I don’t like it… I thought I was supposed to if it happened. I’d already accepted it wouldn’t happen..”

The fact that Bob’s first crush wasn’t a woman added to his anxieties, but it wasn’t really the surprising part. Going this many years without crushing on anyone meant that the gender of his crush didn’t shock him so much as the fact that he got a crush at all. He’d grown up as the odd one out anyway, and he’d never quite eliminated the possibility of being gay in some form or fashion. However, if he were to accept his feelings as such, there was the question of his friends. They were a radical bunch, and wildly accepting at that, but it was not as if he could know for sure how far that acceptance would reach.

Moreover, what was he supposed to do with these sudden feelings? The concept of dating someone was too foreign. And then what, marriage?

No. Nope. It would be better to just let his feelings fizzle and die out. That could happen, right? Eventually. If he bottled them up enough, definitely.

“Ah.” Compton patted his shoulder gently, watching Bob’s stricken expression carefully in case he pulled away. “Again, we’re all friends here, Bob. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Right.” He said, more to assure Compton than out of any agreement. They were all friends. They probably would accept him, at that. But. 

“It doesn’t feel like a good thing, though.” He was repeating himself. He knew that, vaguely. Couldn’t bring himself to care.

“It might feel differently in time,” Compton added timidly. “Take it slow, that’s alright.”

“Yes. You’re right.” Bob muttered, more to himself than to Compton. “I’m sure it’ll go away in time…”

“Oh, dear.”

Chapter Text

Bob gripped the vase tight. Far tighter than necessary for that matter, but he worried the vase would slip out of his sweaty palms and crash to the ground if he didn’t. His heart hammered rapidly against his chest, and his breathing quickly became shallow and uneven in his struggle to correct it.

He’d picked the assortment of flowers carefully. Colorful, varied, and with symbolism that showed he cared without being overtly romantic and without making a blatant “friend zone” statement either. He was fairly certain nobody he’d ever given flowers to had ever been aware of the symbolism associated with his choices, but there was no harm in being careful.

Bob knew that he had no real reason to be nervous. He’d given flowers to all of his friends before, and he’d known Helmut long enough to call him that- a friend. Yet, it felt different, standing some distance away from the Feel-Mobile and praying that Helmut couldn’t see him standing there, doing nothing else but staring. Like an idiot.

It should have been so easy to knock on the door and tell Helmut he’d brought him something to decorate the van. Or, perhaps Helmut could plant them outside if that’s what he preferred. Whatever he wanted.

Or if he didn’t want them, Bob could always bring them back, since it was just an offer anyway, just in case there was a chance. If he didn’t want them that was fine, he was stupid for even asking, and maybe he should save himself the trouble by not asking at all because then there wouldn’t be a chance that Bob would have embarrassed himself only to be declined because why would Helmut care anyway?

Never mind that Helmut had been delighted when he saw Bob’s greenhouse and all the gardening work he’d done. Never mind that his five other friends had all responded positively to his gifts. Never mind that Helmut would have probably been flattered if Bob gave him a rock, if mainly for the gesture over anything else.

None of that made Bob any less nervous- so much so that he knew attempting anything now would surely be disastrous. He’d probably stumble over his words or Helmut would notice how sweaty he was and it truly would be awkward, all because Bob couldn’t keep himself together for something that should be easy.

Cassie had been glad to have flowers for her bees. Compton was grateful to have herbs to use in his cooking. Ford and Lucy had made each other crowns with theirs, giggling all the while like lovestruck kids. Bob had even given an arrangement to Otto, who thanked him in that reserved way of his, before making space for them on his cluttered desk.

He hadn’t been nervous on any of those previous times. Or at least he hadn’t been that nervous. A bit out of his element, maybe. Expressing affection didn’t come easily for Bob- for most of his life he’d normally kept to himself. but their reactions were always worth it in the end.

Giving a vase of flowers to Helmut didn’t feel the same somehow. It wasn’t that he valued Helmut more than his other friends, however, he did value Helmut differently . Bob was hesitant to call his feelings for Helmut romantic, given he had a hard time accepting said feelings as is; however his feelings towards Helmut were undeniably not the same as how he felt towards anyone else in their ragtag crew of researchers.

The idea that Helmut did not reciprocate the same feeling was scary and made any action such as the one he was about to make feel like a shot in the dark. Not that the flowers were tied to a confession or anything of the sort, but it was the principal of the matter… or something. Love was very much new and confusing to him, but not in the way that made him want to explore it; moreso in a scary way that made him want to keep away.

Frankly, he was already a mess around Helmut as is. Blushing, avoiding eye contact, oversharing if not abnormally quiet- the whole shebang. His stomach was knotted with how much time he had spent fretting, holding onto the vase as if it would float away if he wasn't careful. The longer he spent stalling, the more he knew he couldn't do it. At least not yet; not until he got the nerve.

Decision made, Bob briskly turned back the way he came, his eyes darting this way and that to make sure no one had seen him mentally debating if he would knock on Helmut's door or not for about five minutes. If Otto, Lucy, or Ford witnessed it, he would be hearing about it for weeks.

He pivoted slowly to access his surroundings. Scanning the area, he spotted Lucy as if his thoughts had summoned her. Thankfully, she was alone. She was sitting on the wooden walkway by the water, preoccupied with knitting something. He could tell by the way her hands were moving, and because her head was tilted intently towards her lap. Bob could assume she was knitting, but couldn’t see what it was that she was working on since she was so far away. Hopefully far enough that she hadn't noticed Bob's idiotic display.

Still, what if she had? What if she saw him walking over to Helmut's van with a vase in his arms, and thought nothing of it until she found out later that he'd chickened out and kept it to himself? Maybe he really should've just given the damn thing to Helmut. Get it over with and then realize how silly he was being…

Bob turned his gaze back towards the van, visualizing himself walking up to it and knocking on the door. Then he visualized Helmut opening the door, and looking at him expectantly, with that curious and really, really handsome look on his face. Specifically, the face he made when he focused his entire attention on the person before him. With an emphasis on the 'really handsome' part because it only made Bob's heart stutter more at the thought of it.

… Which was admittedly besides the point, because all he had to do after Helmut answered the door was to give the flowers to him.

His heart rate sped up at the thought.

Bob changed his mind again, turning around and quickly making his way away from the van, opting to instead present them to the nearest person who wasn't Helmut Fullbear.

His trek to the boardwalk by the water was brief, if only because he was eager to distance himself from the Feel-Mobile as much as possible. His hands were still slightly shaky as he presented the vase to Lucy, but he felt much more at ease than he did before, like a cumbersome weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Lucy didn't give him a chance to ask if she wanted them, she glanced at the vase once, then back up at Bob's face. "Give those to Helmut already, you turkey!"

She giggled as Bob spluttered. He could feel his face turn red, his hands jerking back the vase so that he clutched it close to his chest. In the back of his mind, he noticed that she was knitting a multicolored scarf, but he was more focused on Lucy's words. Had she seen him stalling? Had she read his mind?

Lucy continued to knit, focusing on her work and saying nothing more on the topic. Her amused smile hadn't faded yet, though her eyes were squinted in concentration at the project before her rather than looking at Bob.

He sighed, slumping down to sit beside her on the boardwalk with a grumble. "Was I really that obvious?"

"Mm-hmm." Lucy simply hummed out, her voice warm. Her eyes didn't leave the scarf she was knitting. "Absolutely." Bob despised the way each syllable was laced with a teasing lilt.

She didn't elaborate further. Bob sighed again, huffier now as he wondered how much she had figured out, and how much she had witnessed. Either way, Lucy probably knew Bob had a crush on Helmut, which was scary because if his crush was obvious then Helmut would've picked up on it too, right? 

"So how did-?"

"Easy." Lucy interrupted. She spared Bob a glance as she continued, "Helmut is the only one of us you haven't given flowers to yet, and it's about time. Also, the colors of these are a whole spectrum- it's clearly catered to his taste." 

She used a needle to lift the multicolored scarf that lay crumpled on her lap closer to Bob's line of sight, "See, I chose similar colors for a gift that I'm giving to him. Plus, if these were really for me, you'd have picked more aquatic plants, like you did last time."

"I should've known I couldn't fool ya." Bob squirmed. "Okay, fine. So, have you realized why I haven't given these to Helmut yet?"

"Because you have a crush on him?" Lucy answered, stopping her knitting to give him a partially-confused look. A teasing tone crept into her voice once more as she resumed. "You're not exactly subtle, Bob."

"You can't just assume things like that," Bob protested, his face hot as he mustered a glare in her direction. "You can't know that for sure!"

"Maybe." Lucy didn't sound like she meant it that much. "But am I wrong?"

"I mean…! That's not…!" Bob held his hands up defensively, realizing his fatal mistake as she raised an eyebrow, still not looking directly at him. He buried his face in his hands, embarrassed. "How long have you known?"

"Real question is, how long have you known?" Lucy giggled again, not unkindly. "You've been smitten ever since you met the guy."

"You've known since then?" Bob's eyes widened, dismayed. "But–! Does that mean Helmut knows too?"

Lucy shrugged. "Maybe, but I wouldn't worry about it either way. Though, one of you needs to make a move already, and those flowers are the perfect opportunity. My advice: don't waste it on me! Just give it to him. As a friend, if you must."

"Alright, I will, but…" Bob trailed off, as he looked towards the Feel-Mobile in the distance and tried his best to steel himself. He knew he had to go, plus he wasn't sure how much more of Lucy's teasing he could stand. Truthfully, after taking the time to grow an assortment of flowers for Helmut, it would be a disappointment if he never actually gave them to him. 

That didn't make it any easier for Bob. 

"Hey, Lucy?"

"Yes, Bob?"

"I uh," Bob scratched at his beard, his eyes wandering out into the water before him to avoid looking at his companion's face. "To be honest with ya, I don't have much relationship experience. Hell, I don't really have any relationship experience. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do…"

Bob's eyes were fixed on the water, his hands still clutching the vase carefully to his chest. "I mean, he probably doesn't like me like that, does he? It'd be nice and all but I think it's best we keep the whole 'crush' thing between you and me, y'know?"

"Bob." Lucy's voice was gentler now. "I'm starting to think this is about more than just giving him flowers." She was focused less on her knitting now, looking Bob in the eyes with a warm smile. "Don't be afraid to show him how you feel! As someone who does have experience- marriage experience even- I can tell you that much."

"But-" Bob pressed. "What if I get rejected?" he murmured, holding the vase against his chest. It twisted and ached at the thought alone. Yet, simultaneously he felt silly for feeling so hurt by a hypothetical.

"It is a possibility, sure." Lucy considered. She clicked her tongue, briefly toying with an earring with the tip of her knitting needle as she mused. "But what if he says yes? I imagine that possibility outweighs the potential disappointment."

"No, it doesn't!" Bob replied, frustrated. "It could totally weird him out, or leave me heartbroken and then I could lose what we already have. Is losin' a friendship really worth riskin' on the off-chance Helmut'll say yes to a different kind of relationship?"

"Off-chance? Although I can't speak for him, between you and me, Helmut hasn't been any more subtle than you've been!"

"What?" Bob blinked twice, wondering if he heard wrong. "Are you sayin'... you think Helmut likes me back? Huh, no way!"

"I think," Lucy began, in such a way that Bob knew there would be more teasing, "that Helmut once wrote a rock ballad about meeting a 'lovely guy, with glasses and a tie.' Assuming I remember the rhyme correctly."

"That could be any guy!" Bob retorted, although his heart beat a bit faster at the thought that maybe, just maybe, his feelings were reciprocated, as false as such a thing had to be. "Uh, any guy with glasses and a tie that is. It's not uncommon."

“Right..”

It wasn't as if he had imagined that Helmut had been singing about him up on stage that day, his heart so giddy by Helmut's strong voice that his psychic powers nearly bloomed roses on the spot. 

… And then he'd thought about it all night. 

Why was Lucy making him remember that? And for what- false hope?

"Hm." Lucy's mischievous smile didn’t falter at Bob's refutes. "Well, at least you know Helmut is into guys, right? Not that he’s ever been subtle really..”

"I-I'm not going to assume anything. What's the point?" Bob said and turned away, flushed. He wasn't going to be tricked into believing that Helmut actually liked him like that. Imagining it to be true was fun, but genuinely believing it was unrealistic. Even if Helmut's orientation did turn out to be as colorful as his personality.

"Nobody can truly know for sure if somebody is willing to date them unless they ask." Lucy shrugged. "If Ford and I had never made moves, we wouldn't be dating now."

"I guess, but that doesn’t mean Helmut and I’ll be the same,” Bob grumbled. “Just forget I said anything.”

“The important part is that you express how you feel,” Lucy poked him in the shoulder, not hard, but enough to get him to glance back at her face. “Keeping those feelings all stuck inside isn’t good for you. Helmut is your friend, Bob. I seriously doubt he’s gonna hate you for falling for him!”

“You don’t know that…” Bob sighed. “It’s just not that simple.”

“Take baby steps if you want,” Lucy suggested. “Give him the flowers- as a good friend. I don’t want to force you into doing something you’re uncomfortable with, but I don’t think you should give up either. Sometimes pushing past the discomfort is worth the reward!”

“I think I can do that,” Bob managed, a weak smile forming on his face. “The flowers I mean, since you’re insistin’. ”

Lucy gave him an encouraging grin. “You got this Bob!”

Lucy returned to her work, and the conversation appeared to be over. Yet, Bob stayed rooted in the same spot. Lucy knitted on in silence, glancing in his direction as the seconds ticked by, but not saying a word. She was expecting him to leave, Bob could figure that out, but the longer he sat there the more it was apparent he wouldn’t.

“I…” Bob shifted from side to side from where he sat, looking out at the horizon instead of toward Lucrecia. “I’m still worried. I can’t help it, I think I’ve thought about this too much.”

“Hm. What is it you like about him, Bob?” Lucy asked, not fully responding to what Bob was concerned with. She paused her knitting once more, placing the unfinished scarf and needles beside her.

“What?” Bob didn’t fully understand why she would ask that and felt put off by suddenly garnering her full attention. “There’s plenty of things to like about Helmut!”

“I would agree!” Lucy said, nodding, “But what do you admire about him? Specifically?”

“Uh…” Bob felt as though he was getting into some silly romance chat he never asked for, but he decided to humor Lucy anyway, considering she’d put up with his romantic incompetence thus far. Not sure where to begin, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Well, he’s a great guy!’

Lucy nodded encouragingly, apparently looking for more detail.

“And um, he can play music really well too… like nothin’ I’ve ever heard! He’s incredibly talented with his psychic powers, and he has a really warm personality…”

Lucy continued to nod along with a smile, silently urging him to continue.

“And uhh, he’s really encouraging and accepting. He’s optimistic about everything! Even if he can get a bit panicked sometimes… Oh, and he never dismisses my own worries, even if it’s over nothin’.”

“Mm-hmm, so what I’m getting here is that he’s considerate of your feelings and would be incredibly happy to receive a gift from a friend?”

“Maybe…” Bob muttered. “Yeah, okay. I see your point.” He took a steadying breath in and out, knowing that he had to go through with his original intentions before he could reconsider again. His confidence was a wavering thing in the face of his feelings for Helmut, but he didn’t want Lucy’s pep talk to go to waste. He got up, vase in hand, and shot Lucy a reserved smile. “Thanks.”

“Now, go get him, Bobbles!” Lucy shouted, giving Bob a double thumbs up as he walked off.

Bob nodded and turned around quickly, forcing his legs to move without allowing his mind to process the consequences of what he was about to do. He just had to do it, and not make a big deal out of it… 

Easier said than done, but Lucy was normally right about that sort of thing. She wouldn't have given him false hope and advice intentionally, and she was clever enough to warrant Bob's trust.

He hadn't faltered yet by the time he reached the Feel-Mobile. Bob's steady pace may have almost conveyed confidence to an outsider looking in, if not for his pause once he reached his destination. It was only a moment that passed before he forced his knuckles to gently rap against the door. His other hand held the vase by his side, that way it wouldn't be right in Helmut's face as soon as he opened the door.

Although technically, now that Bob thought about it, he did always have the option to run off. Theoretically, if he was fast enough, Helmut would be none the wiser. 

Bob debated the thought in the seconds after his fist had met the door, almost having convinced himself that yes- running away was the best option, actually…

… Right up until Helmut answered the door and any decisions besides panic were thrown out the window.

Helmut was always radiant when Bob saw him. He had a bright energy and zeal that rivaled the sun, and Bob was a little lotus, transfixed and soaking it all in. Helmut had everything Bob ever wanted romantically, perhaps in part because Helmut was all Bob had ever wanted romantically. Quite literally, as he didn’t think he’d ever felt that way before.

So yes, Helmut was radiant and handsome, and everything he wanted, and also clearly expecting him to say something as he stood in the doorway of his van.

"Uh…" Bob was off to an eloquent start. "Hello."

Helmut's smile was instantaneous, "Hey man, what's up?" His eyes drifted down toward the vase Bob was holding and his face lit up as he let out a short gasp. He didn't give Bob time to answer his question, which was good because Bob wasn't sure how to answer. "Ohmygosh Bobby! Are those for me?"

"Yeah, it is." Bob managed, holding them up a bit higher. Running away was starting to feel more and more like a viable option. 

Yet Helmut seemed so happy somehow, and he couldn't quite bring himself to do so. Not that it would be the first time Bob had run off because he was a mess around Helmut, but it wasn't an action he wanted to repeat. Again.

"Wow, this is incredible. And it's for me? Oh, thanks a bunch!" He grabbed the arrangement from Bob's arms, examining the flowers like a little kid would a wrapped present. "Did you grow them yourself? Ooh, I love the colors."

"Uh yeah… Thanks." Bob's face became warm, and his beard suddenly felt a lot scratchier than before against his face. He wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say or if he was even supposed to say more. Did he normally talk more during the previous times he'd given his friends plants? Bob had a hard time thinking back on the spot. 

On reflection, he'd been unnaturally quiet so far and he couldn't just say goodbye right away, that would be the same as running. He still had the chance to mitigate an awkward silence, so small talk was a go. "Thought you might like them I guess. Oh! And do you have enough produce? 'Cause if you need some, I can get you more."

Helmut was still admiring Helmut's gift as he spoke, "I'm all good in that department, but it's totes sweet that you asked."

Bob ignored the butterflies in his stomach at Helmut calling him sweet, because it wasn't 'totes sweet,' it was totally pointless! He probably should have said something else, or perhaps he should have ended the conversation sooner after all. Or right then. Running off was still an option, although he'd certainly regret it afterward.

He'd aim for a happy medium: ease the conversation into ending as quickly as possible and then speed-walk away as naturally as he could manage. "Okay then, great! I'll just let you get back to uh… whatever it was you were doing before?"

"Oh, I wasn't doing much really," Helmut clarified. "I mean I was trying to come up with lyrics, but no dice." He shrugged. "Sometimes the words come easy, and sometimes they take their sweet time. I don't want to perform anything until it's polished and ready to rock."

"Ha, yeah, I'm sure it'll be great!" Bob blurted. "I mean your music is always great so…" He let himself trail off, unsure of where to go from there. Why was this so hard? He was practically wringing his hands like Compton!

"Aw, that's so sweet Bobby!" Helmut exclaimed. "Thanks so much. Y'know if you ever wanna hang and help me write lyrics or just see the artistic process and keep me company, you can totally stop by, man."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I could do that, sometime…" Bob answered, his heart skipping a beat. He wanted to spend time with Helmut, he really did, though the thought of that was scary more than anything else. “I’m not very lyrical though..”

"No worries! The company is still appreciated. You free tomorrow?" Helmut offered, just as Bob was about to make an excuse to leave. There was a short pause as Bob tried to process what he'd heard. Helmut pressed on, undeterred, "I want to get to know you better, one-on-one, so long as it's cool with you?"

Well, now Bob sorely needed to say something, even if the idea of spending time with Helmut, and only Helmut tomorrow was more terrifying than exciting. Perhaps it was because it was so exciting that it was also terrifying. When it came to Helmut, Bob could barely tell the difference between the two anyway.

"Yeah, uh, I'll see if I can swing by." No hesitation. Okay, some hesitation- but he’d gotten it out. He just had to say what he needed to say, and then flee. "Or, I guess you could always swing by my place if you want or… whatever works!" 

Smooth.

"Yeah, sure!" Helmut nodded, his cheery disposition putting Bob a bit more at ease. "Thanks again for the flowers! I've just gotta find a special place to put 'em!

"Ahh, it's nothin'. That settled, I'll just get on my way and let you get back to it then." Escape was finally in Bob's grasp. "I'll uh, see you tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Helmut almost sounded disappointed, which caused Bob to wonder if he had messed up somehow. "Ah, I wouldn't want to keep you! I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

“Y-yeah,” Bob offered before a soft chuckle escaped him. Bob was slightly surprised at how light his own laugh sounded, and based on Helmut’s expression, it was new to him as well.

“Hm?” Helmut asked, and Bob noticed he looked slightly flushed, only to ignore that observation because it was probably nothing. Helmut mainly seemed confused. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, sorry,” Bob cleared his throat, “It’s just that it’s a bit silly. I mean we see each other nearly daily now? So, yeah, I’ll see ya tomorrow. Like any other day.” 

Bob paused. That sounded off. Rude, even, maybe. Normally Bob didn’t filter himself for being rude. If he wasn’t in the mood, then he wasn’t going to tiptoe around it and the others could deal with that. But this? This felt different and he felt the urge to backtrack. “Sorry, the phrasing was kinda funny to me. I know this’ll be different and all with just the two of us…”

“Yeah, different…” Helmut replied, his expression not changing from the same one he had when Bob had first laughed. It almost looked like there was wonder on his face, but that didn’t make any sense to Bob. His staring was intense and Bob felt compelled to look away, yet he maintained eye contact, belatedly closing his mouth after he felt his breath hitch.

Helmut blinked and the strange pull on his mind vanished. Embarrassed, Bob looked away, awkwardly coughing into his elbow. 

“Anyway…” he mumbled, but it never got anywhere.

Helmut chuckled in response. “Well, even so, as of yet I haven’t spent much time with my biggest fan, without the others hanging around too.” He winked, and Bob wished he had the confidence of a performer, as well as a grip because holy shit a singular eye moving up and down should not have such an effect. “I love ‘em, but if Ford insists on gathering us up and using my stage again for a speech, I’m gonna knit him the ugliest sweater imaginable.”

“If Lucy doesn’t beat you to it!” Bob joked, and it felt so nice when Helmut laughed in response. “You uh- really think I’m your biggest fan?”

Helmut looked a little surprised by the sincerity of the question. “Yeah, man. You seem to enjoy my music a lot… It's very encouraging, really!”

“Sorry, you don’t have to explain it, I just didn’t realize it was so noticeable.” Bob shifted his weight from foot to foot. The conversation was taking an awkward turn again. Perhaps he really should have left when he said he was going to. “Anyway, I’m sure there are lots of people who adore your music just as much as me, or even beyond that.”

Helmut’s tentative grin softened around the edges. It was almost a grimace. “Not exactly. My shows didn’t gain much traction. Might’ve been gone for good if I didn’t have my one audience member that night. Ha, I can’t even imagine what life would be like if Ford hadn’t shown up, and I haven't even been here long.”

“What? Really?” Bob’s eyes were wide as he looked up at Helmut. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t get an audience…”

He remembered the day Helmut had joined them, Ford had mentioned something about Helmut being in a tight situation. Bob hadn’t thought much of it at the time, in part because he was fascinated by the new guy, but also because it was easy to assume Helmut came from a troubled background. They all had.

“Well, showbiz is hard, for one thing,” Helmut replied with a half-shrug. “And I have a hunch that most people prefer performances that aren’t psychic in nature.” He shook his head. “I think they're missing out, but hey, it’s not like I can change minds. Ooh, maybe that’s the next thing we should experiment on! Changing minds!”

“Hey now, don’t give anyone any ideas,” Bob joked back. The concept wasn’t all that out there considering the many mental experimentations that had occurred after Ford invented the Psi-Door. “It’s probably possible. Not moral, though.”

“Otto would love it.”

“Yup.”

“Oh no, can you imagine?” Helmut giggled, leaning against the doorframe with the vase of flowers still clutched by his side. 

Perhaps Bob could imagine, if he wasn’t thinking about the way Helmut laughed, and the way he held the vase with care, and the way the sun made the orange color of his hair and the bright fabric of his clothes shine, and the way his posture was always naturally full of life, as if practiced, and, and, and…

And Helmut’s giggles subsided eventually, and Bob’s nervous shifting began again, and silence had begun to settle just a little too long.

“You’ve still gotta get going though, huh?” Helmut asked eventually. He scratched at the back of his neck, his expression somewhat sheepish as he continued to grin. “Sorry if I’ve been keeping you.” 

“Oh, right,” Bob said simply in response, almost feeling a bit disheartened that they hadn’t kept talking, even though he’d been hoping to escape the situation. The same uncertainties he’d had before were present, but he also enjoyed the little amount of time he’d spent with Helmut when he wasn’t panicking. “Yes, I uh- should probably get going.”

“Thanks again for the gift! See you around, man.” Helmut said with a wave.

“See ya around,” Bob echoed with a nod. He turned away, his footsteps gradually taking him faster and further away from the van to the tune of his racing heart. He only slowed once he was sure he was far away enough and that Helmut was likely already inside.

He sighed, pent-up anxiety and gloominess making it last a little longer than expected. Then the relief came flooding in. He had managed to successfully give Helmut flowers without embarrassing himself too severely. He’d done what he thought he couldn’t, and that was what mattered. As he’d thought this, a small smile appeared on his face…

… and immediately dropped when he saw Ford and Lucy leaning up against some trees a fair distance away.

They were acting casual. Chit-chatting about something or other that didn’t matter to Bob. Why were they there? He expected Lucy to be where she was last, still chipping away at the rainbow scarf for Helmut.

Bob approached them, trying not to assume anything was amiss even as Ford exchanged an odd glance with Lucy after sighting him.

“Bob!” Lucy called out before he could say anything. “It’s nice to see you again! I presume you were just talking with Helmut?”

“Er, yeah, I was,” Bob said, his eyes darting between Lucy and Ford. He was hoping she would have kept their conversation from earlier just between the two of them, but Ford’s presence suggested that it might not be the case.

“See Bob, I told you it would be fine.” Lucy continued. “Seems like it went well, hm?”

Bob turned away from the couple, slumping against one of his favorite trees. He wasn’t feeling very encouraged. “I didn’t say a thing about how it went!”

“You didn’t have to!” Chimed in Ford. “You may look all grouchy, but your noggin up there says somethin’ different.”

“Stop readin’ my mind!” Bob snapped back, but his complaints fell on deaf ears.

“Ooh, yes. I think he likes you, Bob!” Lucy said, clasping her hands together in a way that seemed cheeky coming from her.

“Who? Helmut?” Bob gives them a bewildered look, his face no doubt reddening. “Why would you say that?”

Bob immediately wished he hadn’t encouraged the two in their mischief. He’d betrayed his interest and now he’d never hear the end of it.

“Who else?” Ford raised an eyebrow. “We mean Fullbear! Duh.”

“Whaddya mean? He wasn’t actin’ any different.” Bob directed an indignant glare at Ford, that he hoped was subtle. Ford’s unaffected composure was unsurprisingly unaffected.

“Mmm, I think he was.” Lucy objected, giggling when Bob shot her a similar look. “I mean his reaction, the way he wanted one-on-one time, the wink, I could go on…”

Ford nodded along, clearly in agreement.

“How do you know about all that?” Bob burst out, a little too loudly. “I wasn't thinking about that right now!” The memories bubbling back to the surface were only making his face redder, but unless they were reading deep into his unconscious, he didn’t get how they could have known.

“Well, I may have… followed you. To see how it went.” Lucy admitted, pressing her hands together placatingly. “Ah yes, and then Ford teleported beside me and saw around half of it.”

“Oh, but we’re still readin’ your mind!” Ford added, very unhelpfully, in Bob’s opinion.

“Stop that!” Bob focused on putting up a mental block, gradually feeling their presence in his mind ease. He knew they could probably break through his mind’s boundary if they pushed hard enough. Bob was a psychic powerhouse, but so were they, and given his flustered state it was a possibility. Fortunately, they seemed to have enough respect not to pry deeper.

“Fine, fine.” Ford relented, raising his hands in the air as if that made him look innocent. “Buzzkill.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Lucy looked more sympathetic, but Bob could see the amusement in the way her eyes crinkled upwards. “Mostly.”

“Can’t say the same,” Ford said, bluntly.

“Ugh. It doesn’t matter.” Bob rested his head against his hands. “Nothin’ will come of this, you’ll see.”

Chapter Text

“You know I lost money because of you.”

Bob looked at Cassie, confused. He’d come to her place for advice on organization, but apparently she had other things she wanted to discuss first. 

“Huh? Me?” He couldn’t for the life of him think of why he would cause her any financial loss. Truth be told, he and Cassie weren’t the tightest in the group, and thinking of times he had directly impacted her at all were slim.

“When was this?”

“Oh, it was a while ago,” Cassie chuckled, clearly not too bothered. “But as of right now, I’m ten dollars poorer than I was.”

“And this is because of me… how?” Positioned opposite of her on the couch, Bob turned to face Cassie completely. He placed the hefty stack of books in his arms on the table in front of them, right next to his own cup of tea. She’d assured him that the organization of his wedding would be a cinch if he perused the books she’d recommended. He wasn’t sure if he needed so many, though.

“It was a bet five of us, including me, made months ago,” Cassie elaborated, “I thought Helmut would be the one to propose first, but apparently I thought wrong.”

She frowned. “I don’t like admitting that. I was so sure Helmut would have some dramatic proposal up his sleeve. I suppose I should have known that Robert Zanotto would be the most eager to plant roots.”

“Ha-ha,” Bob rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was hard to believe he would soon be marrying the man he loved. He thought that his relationship with Helmut wouldn’t have gone anywhere and yet it had. He’d even taken matters into his own hands when it came to proposing– and Helmut had said yes. “Hardly my fault you lost a bet.”

She scoffed playfully. “Oh yeah? Well, personally, I think you owe me some compensation. Even if it’s just giving me the details.”

“Details?” Bob repeated, slowly. “What kind of details are we talkin’ about?”

“Hm. How about– when did you first decide you wanted to propose? I already know enough about you popping the question, but what led up to it?” Cassie steepled her fingers together, telekinetically stirring something in her tea. (Probably honey– Bob mused.)

“Fine. I think I knew for a while,” Bob said. The words came naturally. “I love Helmut. A lot. I want to marry him and make that love as official as I can. That’s been on my mind for a long time.” As cheesy as it sounded, his heart felt like it was ready to burst with unabashed affection whenever he thought of Helmut’s reaction when he kneeled and presented him with a ring.

“Aw. That’s sweet. Even still, I was expecting the answer to be a bit more… romantic.” Cassie waved her hands around vaguely, a hesitant smile on her lips.

Bob’s posture stiffened and he felt oddly defensive of his answer. “What about it?”

“Well, I was just expecting something more specific. Some special moment you shared where you distinctly thought, “I want to marry this man,” Cassie sighed, still smiling gently. “Don’t give me that look, Bob. Especially when you’re oh so accustomed to Helmut’s theatrics. Consider humoring me a little.”

Bob snorted “Y’know, I never thought of you as the romantic type.”

She laughed at that. “Oh no. Certainly not! However, when you’ve read as many books as I have… well, romance is the top-selling genre, and seeing one that’s written well in a way that’s new and interesting to me is… a rarity. I like hearing those kinds of stories.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “We aren’t anything like your stories.”

Cassie placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose, rubbing it wearily. “I know that, Bobby. I’m just trying to make conversation. Can you really not think of anything?”

“I guess there’s one thing I can think of. Since you apparently have nothing better to do.”

“That sarcasm wasn’t needed to be honest. That being said, I am rather curious, so do tell.”

“Yeah? Well… it was a while back. Months ago, not sure when exactly but we’d been datin’ for awhile. I was feelin’ strange, thinkin’ about how close we’d gotten, and how it all felt normal somehow…”

────── 〔✿〕──────

“What’re you thinking about, Bobby?” Helmut asked, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Bob looked down at his partner and smiled. Helmut was smiling too, his eyes filled with adoration as Bob leaned into the touch. His orange hair sparkled in the light that peeked through the leaves of the gnarled oak they were leaning against. Bob could feel the silky strands across his lap. “Would it be cheesy if I said ‘you?’”

Helmut removed his hand from Bob’s face, grabbing Bob’s hand in his own on the way down. He kissed it gently before answering. “Yeah, that’s really cheesy, man. It’s sweet though, so don’t stop.”

Bob chuckled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I were always thinkin’ of you?”

“Bobby, I already know you’re obsessed with me.” He started playing idly with Bob’s hands, looking up at him occasionally as he spoke. “But if you thought of nothing else how would you get anything done? It’d be terrible. A tragedy, really. World’s handsomest man rendered unable to do anything because he’s too obsessed with some guy. More at 11.”

Bob laughed, his stomach brushing against Helmut’s head as it moved in and out. “What? Helmut! That’s like… the reverse. You’re so weird.”

“Part of being a performer, babe. In all seriousness though, that is uber sweet. I was thinking of you too, y’know?”

“Quit bein’ such a flirt!” Bob laughed, making a faux effort to shove Helmut off his lap. “A babe? In my forties?”

“Totally. I say it how I see it. And I was being serious, dude, I was thinking like… wow. I must be the luckiest man alive! Getting to look up at a guy like that! And not just ‘cause he looks hot, y’feel? To get to be so close with the guy you love! And he loves you back? What a feeling!”

Bob felt his heart warm and flutter, and his response was to push on Helmut’s head harder. “What the hell?” He laughed, smitten. “Where is this coming from?”

“Can’t you tell, man?” Helmut said, in a very serious tone of voice. “It comes from the heart.”

His solemn face caused Bob to snicker again, flicking the tip of Helmut’s nose. “Who’s being cheesy now?”

Helmut put his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! Guess I can’t get anything past you! Apparently not even my dramatic declarations of love!” He swooned dramatically, eliciting an eye roll from his partner.

“Musicians,” Bob grumbled good-naturedly, before becoming more sincere. “I do appreciate it, though.”

“Yeah?” Helmut sighed, content. “I could lie here like this forever, you know.”

“Forever, huh?” Bob said softly, his mind turning.

Forever was a weighty word. Not a lot of things were ‘forever.’ Hell, there was that expression that ‘nothing lasts forever.’ A younger, more cynical Bob might have agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment. In a literal sense, how could anything last forever when all life ended eventually– and with it all sensations and experiences? An afterlife wasn’t something Bob was inclined to believe in, and even if it did exist, surely nothing would be the same.

As for love itself… he had thought it would be severed eventually as well. Bob had the impression that couples got sick of each other after they’d been with each other long enough. Otto had mentioned something about mammals typically not being monogamous as a possible reason, but he hadn’t followed along much. He didn’t think he’d get sick of Helmut. Not that he was against swinging either, if Helmut ever wanted to, but that was beside the point. Anyway.

The point being that Helmut could stay with Bob forever.

Forever regardless of whatever subjective meaning Bob wanted to apply to it– the sentiment was still the same– Helmut loved Bob and wanted to stay with him for as long as he could.

For most couples being together meant a wedding as a sort of solidified declaration of love. A grandiose ceremony to cement all the ‘I love yous,’ and a way to prove to friends and family that you’d found your ‘other half.’

Admittedly, Bob had never liked weddings. He still didn’t. They felt like an unnecessary ceremony that didn’t do much other than drain you of cash– and maybe give you a fun time if you weren’t introverted. But Helmut…

Helmut, who only responded by kissing Bob’s knuckles lightly, had made Bob feel differently than he would for the marriage of anyone else. The idea of marrying Helmut; the very real and serious consideration that he could marry Helmut– and that Helmut would perhaps be delighted by their marriage– felt like a dream come true.

“Forever,” Helmut confirmed after what felt like an eternity He nodded with finality. “Until I grow roots and can’t get up even if I wanted to. And you’d be stuck under me. Like some weird love tragedy.”

“I see.” Bob was only half-listening. His mind gradually began to race. He could be the one to propose even, and the way things were going… somehow, he thought, Helmut would say yes.

It was an odd thought, and he found himself thinking of the same topic that had been enveloping his mind previously. Their relationship had changed. It had settled and become cozy and comfortable and as natural as the air he breathed.

Whereas before Bob had been terrified to be in Helmut’s presence, and keen to run away, now Bob could say confidently that his partner loved him. Sincerely, he knew that, because Helmut never ceased in reminding him.

It had become so much better than he’d ever imagined, and for once? He was eager to know where it would continue to go.

────── 〔✿〕──────

“Okay,” Cassie said, sounding somewhat touched as Bob finished his story with a sheepish sip of levitating tea. “That was more romantic.”

Bob only nodded, the memories making his face warm slightly. Perhaps that was the tea.

Cassie finished her one cup, setting it down and leaning in with a grin. “Tell me more?”

That gave Bob pause.  “Huh? More?”

He doubted he was any good of a storyteller. Bob wasn’t poetic the way Cassie or Helmut was, or even all that technical like Ford or Otto. He wasn’t funny or charming the way Lucy and Compton could be. Why would Cassie want him to tell another story?

“Did I stutter?” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Again, I’m simply making conversation, Bob. You’re getting married soon enough and you can’t tell me a few stories of being a couple? I lent you my books and everything!”

Bob shook his head, incredulous. “I never really thought of ya as a romantic.”

Cassie extended her arm out to shove Bob’s shoulder slightly. “I’m not, I assure you! I like stories. Helmut has given me plenty. I want to hear more from you!”

Teasing forgotten, Bob’s eyes widened in surprise. “He has?”

“Oh yes!” Cassie straightened up, holding her index finger in the air.  “He’s got plenty to say about you, y’know!”

“He has plenty to say?” Bob echoed, warily. He wasn’t completely on board with the idea of the two chattering about him, especially with how prone to gossip Cassie was. She was always relating anything she found to be interesting to her partner in crime and always seemed to know things that others didn’t.

“Don’t sound so down about it.” Cassie pushed on his shoulder again, shaking him slightly. “Lighten up, he only gushed about how amazing you are all the time!”

Having been jostled somewhat, Bob adjusted his glasses. “Right. Yeah, okay.” Surprised by this new bit of information, Bob felt a swell of affection as he pictured it: Helmut animatedly expressing love for Bob to anyone who listened. Hesitance aside, he trusted Helmut and couldn’t help but feel flattered.

“Yeah, don’t think I can’t see you smiling over there!” Cassie pointed out with a grin of her own, before feigning hurt. “Can’t you indulge a lonely old sould with some conversation of your own? Compton’s quite busy with his menagerie today– training some birdsong for the ceremony and all– and Ford’s been gallivanting with Lucy again , and on top of that even Otto–”

“Alright, alright, I’ve got it!” Bob interrupted. “Sure, fine, whatever. Just lemme think…”

“Take your time!” Cassie chirped, no longer appearing all that much like a ‘lonely old soul.’

“Okay, well, I guess I’ve got one,” Bob relented, after giving it some thought. “I was… well for context, I wasn’t doin’ the best at the time.”

It had been around the time of the month that his mom had passed, and he’d always felt sort of down, despite, or perhaps because of their tense relationship. He’d told that to Helmut at the time, but he hadn’t confessed another big source of his stress.

He tended to drink more when he felt down. More than what made him comfortable considering well… Tia Zanotto hadn’t died a natural death. Of course he wasn’t going to tell that to Cassie now, nor was he going to dwell. What mattered now was that he was getting married soon dammit, and Cassie wanted a feel-good story.

“So–” Bob continued, swallowing a little thicker than he would have liked. She’d assume it was the tea. “I was down in the dumps and my plants, they… they were affected too.”

────── 〔✿〕──────

Bob Zanotto stared at the flowers before him and frowned. There weren’t nearly as many as there usually were, and the ones that persisted were dulled— wilted.

He hated to think his bad moods had been affecting them so much and yet, it was as obvious as night and day. Being so intrinsically and psychically connected to the flora in the woods, and especially the plants in the greenhouse, meant they felt everything he felt.

Contrary to what some believed, Bob did not actually mind the death of plants. Yes, it was true, he could hear them dying. Sense it, more accurately, but the difference was subtle. He could hear a tree screaming as axes cut it down, and forestation was an issue he cared passionately about for a reason. Still, plants did not think of death the same way humans did. It was as natural to them as rain and sunlight was. The yellow flower he typically carried in his pocket, though plucked out of the ground, was not the equivalent of a corpse to him.

He didn’t grieve for them, or mourn their losses. Their life cycles were too short and their deaths too natural for that. When he was little he would cry and sniffle all day long, but the flowers taught him their views on death and it didn’t hurt so much anymore, even if he missed the companionship. 

That didn’t mean he treated flowers dying entirely lightly. Natural as it was, he still wanted his flowers to prosper as much as they could. Being an herbiphonic gardener meant it was a high priority.

Bob was kneeling, carefully examining the petals of a drooping and withered marigold. He sighed deeply, just before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Jumping, and stifling a yelp, he whipped around and impulsively lashed out at the shoulder the arm belonged to. It was so quick, he barely processed what had happened even when his fist hit something solid and only a bit fleshy.

“Oww!” Helmut cried out, using his free arm to rub the spot he’d been punched. “Ouch… you’re quite a heavy hitter, Bobby.”

“Shit!” Bob was mortified. “Helmut, sorry I– uh, it’s a bad reflex of mine, I-I didn’t realize…” Bob watched Helmut’s face. His partner was still trying to smile, but his expression was creased in pain. “I really didn’t mean– are you okay?”

“Yeah, man, I just– whooooo–” Helmut released his shoulder and shook his arm around, trying to shake it off. “Dude, I knew you had muscles, I’ve seen you carry soil bags and pull out gargantuan weeds without telekinesis, but man oh man…”

“Sorry,” Bob groaned again, rubbing his face. “You scared me. I’ve just been so out of it. I know you were probably tryin’ to be cute, and I ruined it. Sorry.”

“Trying to be cute?” Helmut questioned. “First you punch me and then you imply I’m not cute? Wow, I can take a hint, Bobby.”

In the state he was in, Bob couldn’t enjoy Helmut’s joke. “Of course you’re cute, Helmut! And I’m really sorry for hitting you.” He insisted– and wow did he feel bad. His flowers were doing worse because of him and then he’d lashed out at his partner, even if he hadn’t meant either. He could wallow in his own pitiful state, but he hadn’t meant to drag anyone with him.

“Whoa, relax man, I’m only messing with you.” Concern was etched across Helmut’s features. “You okay? I promise I’m not mad about you punching me or anything, it was an honest mistake!”

Bob couldn’t bring himself to smile or look reassured. He still felt awful. Not saying anything, he just stared at the ground guiltily, his hands balled tight into panicked fists.

“Bob, I swear it’s fine!” Helmut was quick to assure him. “Look at me, it’s totally fine. It hurt for a bit but it’s fine now and I understand it was an accident! I’m sorry if I upset you, but I mean it, it’s all good!”

“Don’t apologize!” Bob groaned. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Just forget about it, ok? I’m not trying to be a bummer to be around.”

Helmut grabbed one of Bob’s hands gently. “And you’re not! I get the feeling you weren’t doing too well even before I showed up. Anything the matter?”

He was always too kind, Bob thought bitterly. Not directed at Helmut, because he loved him and his kindness– but bitter at himself for being undeserving of it.

“It’s…” He sighed. “I always get this way once this month comes around. The anniversary of my mom’s death is relatively soon, and it tends to linger a bit in my mind.”

Human death was as natural as plant death, really, and in both cases there were many ways to die prematurely– unnatural deaths, as many would call it. It felt unfair to say a short life was worth less, yet it still felt justified to be bothered by such deaths: to long for them to have been lengthier, to wonder and regret on the possibilities that something could have or should have been done to change when everything ended.

Death was natural. Even the premature ones were natural in their own twisted way. Death happened and that was the way it was. The plants had taught him not to think of it as anything more than that– the universe moving forward. Death was fine. Plant death was fine. Premature plant death was fine, as much as he wished things could have gone differently.

His mom’s death had not been fine.

“Ah,” Helmut softened. “I’m so sorry, Bobby.”

It would never be fine.

“Nah, it’s–” he shook his head, swallowing thickly on the ‘fine’ fizzling on his tongue. He nodded, as if that answered anything. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not– but I’m fine so…” He paused. His fists tightened. His throat narrowed. He forced himself to continue, his eyes flicking about hastily.

“It’s just– now my flowers are wilting and I know it’s my fault. I’ve been taking care of them as usual, but I think my mood is psychically rubbing off on them. I don’t want to try to use my power to accelerate their growth either for that reason. It might make it worse. It’s one thing if I feel bad, but I hate seeing it affect everything around me.

“Hey, you shouldn’t have to feel bad about that. It’s not your fault,” Helmut replied gently. “Sorry you’re feeling so down, man. If there’s anything I can do, I absolutely will.”

“Thanks.” Bob mumbled, his eyes clamping tight. He opened his eyes warily after, hesitant, and then leaned against his partner silently. He closed his eyes as Helmut’s sturdy arm wrapped around his shoulder.

Helmut kissed the top of his head, squeezing Bob comfortingly.

Bob didn’t want to open his eyes, so soothed by the dark. He could focus only on the comfort. The sensation of Helmut squeezing him. The soft rise and fall of their chests. Helmut’s breath against his hair and the feeling of his own eyes being shut tight. There was swaying as Helmut rocked him from side to side, and still his eyes remained close as he grounded himself in the sensations.

Somewhere in the abysmal dark, a kiss pressed to the side of his cheek, hairs tickling his face gently. And somewhere, simultaneously, just out of reach of Bob’s immediate awareness, something small bloomed at his feet.

Helmut gasped, and only then did Bob’s eyes snap open. The dull ache in his chest made itself known but abated as Bob caught sight of Helmut smiling down at his feet. Only then did Bob look down, his mind feeling fuzzy and off-kilter where it rested. A small yellow flower had sprouted at his feet, looking bright and cheerful among the wilted plants and weeds.

He looked back up at Helmut. This wasn’t the first time he’d grown flowers from emotion alone– certainly not the first time it had happened from Helmut’s affection– but Helmut’s smile was contagious. It flitted across Bob’s face, small and certainly not as bright as Helmut’s but…

The small flower blooming from where so many lay dead or withered away gave Bob some hope, and even moreso when a delighted Helmut grabbed Bob by the waist and swung him around in a circle. It was disorienting, yes. Very much disorienting. But oh, it was delightful. A reminder that Bob had found happiness despite it all, when he’d thought it wasn’t possible.

Bob’s grin grew in size as Helmut ended the spin by lifting Bob high and pressing their smiling lips together. It was brief but sweet, and Bob chose not to dwell on how his teeth accidentally clipped Helmut’s lower lip a bit hard on impact. Helmut peppered his face with more kisses before placing him down. Bob’s chest still hurt, but his heart swelled with love and he smiled, tears glittering in his eyes.

At his feet bloomed a small flowerbed. The stems and petals were nothing to write home about– they were quite tiny, really, but they were there, and they were beautiful. That they could bloom at all in the dreary state of the garden was incredible.

“Come here,” Sitting down among the flowers, Helmut grabbed Bob’s hand and tugged him down gently. Their fingers intertwined and he guided Bob in brushing the tips of their knuckles along the silky petals beneath them. He kissed away the tears on Bob’s cheeks, lifting up his glasses to ensure he’d got them all before leaning against him blissfully.

It was nice…

Yet.

Once the disorienting exhilaration and flushed surprise died down, the negative thoughts that had been weighing down on Bob began poking at him again. It persisted even as he tried focusing on the happiness of the moment. He tried not to frown, tried not to let the lingering gloom cloud his vision, tried not to overthink and ruin a perfectly happy conclusion to his flower dilemma–

His thoughts came to a grinding halt when Helmut squeezed his hand, as if sensing his thoughts. He probably was; they were already so connected as is. Frankly, Bob was too out-of-it to tell if another presence was accompanying him in his head to begin with.

Helmut’s grip was tight. “Bobby, it’s ok to not be ok.”

Bob froze, belatedly nodding when more tears swelled out of his eyes. His mouth twitched miserably, and he removed his glasses in defeat to swipe a hand across his eyes. He tried to not so much as whimper in the guilty silence he left behind.

“I mean it,” Helmut continued. “It’s ok to feel upset sometimes. Or even a lot of the time.” Helmut pressed another kiss to the crown of Bob’s head. “You’re allowed that for yourself, and I love you all the same. Which, by the way, is so, so much. There are no words or songs for it. Nothing to show for it but me, so I’ll do my damndest, ok?”

Helmut ran his fingers along the flowers Bob had recently grown, reaching out to grab Bob’s hand so he could feel them too. Helmut’s eyes were trained on the ground, encouraging Bob to do the same. “This is proof that even when you aren’t ok, you can still find happiness. Even if it’s just a little something that makes life just a little more bright. Maybe this is corny, but you’ve made my life so much brighter, Bobby, and that’s the truth. I couldn’t have ever imagined truly finding that before you. With you, I know I will always be ok, even if it takes time. And we have all the time in the world, man!”

“Okay… thanks. I– thanks. A lot…. I love you too.”

“You can talk to me any time, you know?” Helmut pulled Bob closer.

Bob sighed, taking a moment to collect himself. 

“I– I don’t normally cry this much. About my mom. I love her, and it hurts, but… I’ve mostly been numb to it. I mean, she caused me so much suffering. I can’t fully blame her… that’d be too easy, but I can’t. She… I don’t know, I still think she tried her best. She at least tried to hide all the, uh, drinkin’. But it’s been so much easier to not think about it. Her death, I mean. I kinda hate admittin’ it, but it’s true. My feelings towards her are too complicated so I just… choose not to think about it. And I don’t usually feel much towards her death. Does that make me an asshole?”

“No. No, man, I get it. Death is complicated stuff. Relationships too. We all cope differently, but life goes on.”

“Right. Sometimes it hits me though. I’m so used to being numb to it that seeing it affect my flowers and you– your arm that I punched– that makes me feel a lot of things I don’t want to feel.”

“It’s alright. I’ve lived from bigger bruises. Did you know I fell off a stage once? Now that hurt. You’ve made new flowers in the other’s stead. The people who care about you are willing to lend an ear. You’re not bringing us down– we care about ya man!”

Bob’s rationale could sort of see the reason in that. When he’d seen Compton crying a month or so ago, he’d dropped everything to try to console the sobbing man. He was bad at that. Consoling. Compton had seen some roadkill. It wasn’t like either of them had hit it, but it had upset Conpton regardless. He’d awkwardly patted Compton on the back all the same.

He loved Helmut and he loved his friends and he knew he wouldn’t think of them as a burden for sharing their own suffering. The idea that the same concept was reciprocated was harder to believe, but he knew his friends were wonderful people— they really did care about him.

“Okay… yeah. I… realize I haven’t talked about my childhood with you much. It’s not a fun thing to talk about. I’ll tell you more, ok? Some other time. For now, I just want to sit here, I guess. In silence maybe. But I still want you to be here with me… Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

────── 〔✿〕──────

“That was touching,” Cassie said after Bob had finished. “Hearing it from your perspective was… different! It was nice!”

“You’ve heard that from Helmut before?” Bob felt a twist in his gut. He’d left out a lot of details in his retelling. A lot of it felt private– too touchy to share willy-nilly. He didn’t think Helmut would share anything too personal without consent, but he couldn’t control what his soon-to-be husband would have deemed acceptable to share either.

Cassie made a so-so gesture with her hand, angling her head askew. “More or less. Less, actually. He left out more.”

“I see,” Bob nodded, relieved. He kept his expression neutral. “So, do ya like my version better?”

“I suppose so,” Cassie said. “Helmut’s usually a better storyteller– no offense– but he didn’t have much to say on this one. Just mentioned it among a million other stories of you sprouting up flowers around him.”

Bob blushed, scowling. “That’s quite the exaggeration.”

Cassie laughed. “Not by much!”

“Whatever,” Bob muttered, ready to take his leave now that he’d got what he wanted and given Cassie what she wanted in return. He grabbed the stack of books from the coffee table on the way up.

“Gone so soon? I suppose that’s the end of that! Just try not to leave behind a trail of flowers as you walk down the aisle?” Cassie teased, giggling as Bob shot her a look. “What? It’s true! Though I suppose it’d be romantic if you did..”

“What do you know about romance?” Bob scoffed, halfway in jest. He made his way carefully to the door, trying not to disturb the jars of honey strewn about.

“Touche.” Cassie shrugged, but glanced meaningfully towards a bookshelf.

“Books don’t count,” Bob added, hand on doorknob.

“You haven’t read my books yet,” Cassie sniffed. “They’re gonna help you with your wedding, I assure you. You can thank me later!”

“Yeah, yeah. You better be right.” He twisted the knob and opened the door, shifting his weight to accommodate the heavy stack he was supporting.

“I will be. Now hurry up and marry Big Bear!”

Chapter Text

Bob loved his husband with every fiber of his being. Bob loved Helmut so much. It was funny, really, when he thought about it; how someone could love something that had long since disappeared.

Because Helmut was gone. That was certain. Bob felt that if the wilted flowers before him were capable of communication, that was what they would say. Helmut was gone, Helmut was dead, Helmut would never be in Bob’s life again.

Helmut had been killed.

It had been a blur afterwards. A great big smear towards the later parts of his life thus far. He didn’t like to think about the person who had murdered Helmut. The person who, with one potent swipe, had plunged his husband into the frigid depths of the water. The monster would have killed Bob had Helmut not taken the blow, but she had not been the reason Helmut’s body stayed at the bottom of a frozen lake…

It did no good to focus on that either. The blame game was a pointless game when the only thing you cared about was already gone. It’s not like it mattered which old friend he blamed– they all never cared about him anyway, and were better off without him at that.

Really, he was doing them all a favor.

His nephew kept sending him letters. He wasn’t going to come crawling back if that was Truman’s intention. If he missed Bob now that he was gone, then he shouldn’t have pushed him away, shouldn’t have kicked him out at his worst. He’d hit rock bottom only to find that it too could be swept out from under his feet. Truman had seen to that— he was well and truly drowning.

Yet Helmut was supposed to be the one who was dead. Cassie had argued once upon a time that irony was supposed to be funny.

Truman’s letters were written with a casual distance that Bob loathed. He wrote as if Bob would respond. Simultaneously, he wrote as if he knew full well Bob wouldn’t respond, but he sent the letters anyway. The contents were somewhat reserved, yet detailed all about friends and family and people who were supposed to be Bob’s friends and questions on how he was doing and wishes that he was well. It was as insulting as it was heart-wrenching.

Truman wrote about his daughter, Lili. He sent photos. The information was always just enough and nothing more. She’d turned seven recently. She was psychic. She liked plants and pretty flowers. She once set Bob’s nephew’s beard on fire.

And Bob had never met her, but that was fine . That was just life. It didn’t matter, really. 

The letters never told him what her voice sounded like. They never told him what her favorite plant was, or if she preferred cats or dogs, or what ice cream she liked– if she liked ice cream, or a million other things that would’ve made her seem more real in Bob’s life. And Bob’s chest ached for the nephew that had ditched him and his great niece that never knew he existed– if she did she surely would despise him like her dad did.

With their distance, she probably only knew him from stories. She’d hear shitty little fragments of stories about him, and her mind would be set. She’d think of him as the great uncle who was better out of her life and away from everyone else because he was violent and got drunk too much. Meanwhile he’d think of how she was growing up without him; photographs from Truman’s letters showed her hair growing and her limbs lengthening. She was no longer the same girl in the first photo he’d gotten: the baby who tugged fiercely on her father’s beard.

In the most recent photo he’d gotten, Lili was not smiling. Her eyes were half-lidded and her mouth was a flat line that was nearly a scowl. Truman had explained that her attitude had shifted. That she’d always been tough, but somewhere down the line she’d become more aloof and hit a rebellious phase with her pops. Still, whenever he thought of the photo, he could only imagine that she knew who the photo was being sent to, and was scowling directly at him.

He hated Truman for what happened. He hated his damn letters– one of the few contacts he had with the outside world.

He didn’t have anybody.

He had nobody. He didn’t need anybody, his mind constantly insisted, yet the fact remained that he had nobody even if he wanted to. That wasn’t exactly a thought he liked to dwell on. Dwelling was dangerous. The alcohol-induced haze made it easier not to, which was great because that meant he didn’t have to think about much of anything anymore.

It couldn’t completely eliminate his self-awareness though. He knew he was digging himself so deep into a hole that it would be impossible to climb out of. He barely had the motivation to scrabble against the walls. 

Bob may have felt like garbage 24/7, but he was trying to cope with what he’d been dealt, even if that made it worse in the long-run. If there even was much of a long-run at the rate he was going at. He was stuck.

He didn’t want to feel anything, and he didn't care about himself enough for it to matter what was happening to him.

Deep down there was a part of him that wanted to be saved. A part he repressed heavily. But it was somewhere in his mind, murky and unfocused, but there. He simply couldn’t do it on his own, and he had nobody to entertain helping him.

If only Helmut wasn’t dead.

Bob felt like the dead person most of all. Barely slogging through life, never knowing what day it was, or how long he’d been here, or when the last time he bathed was. He never saw anybody around anymore and he never left the greenhouse; he could grow his own meager food and brew his own alcohol.

He wondered, if there was some sort of afterlife, if Helmut could see him now and how he’d feel. Disgusted, probably. Bob was disgusted with himself too. He was sure everyone was.

He’d been betrayed though. Of that, Bob felt strongly. It wasn’t his fault he’d been ditched, regardless of how worthless he was presently.

If he hadn’t lost his job, things could have been okay. Not great by any means, but okay enough. Manageable. It would’ve been better, at any rate. It was only after he’d been fired by his own nephew that things really fell apart.

And yet Bob heard a knocking sound echo inside of his house.

The knocks were loud– made louder by how they rattled in his mind. Despite the racket, there was a hesitance to the way they sounded out, one after another. He thought he could hear a voice behind that too, but it sounded tinny from where it swam in his head, and he wondered if he was only imagining it. Bob  hadn’t seen anybody in what must have been months and yet…

The knock sounded out one more time. The voice seemed to be asking him for something. Bob slowly registered it to be… permission maybe…

He recognized it– the voice, but it was faint and disorientation overtook all lines of reason. On the final knock he was belatedly able to locate the source being behind his door. So he had a visitor. What was the point?

Bob waited as the knocks stopped. Waited to hear footsteps. Waited for the person to accept that he was a lost cause and leave. He kept his back turned. He didn’t want to know who it was; didn’t want so much as to leave a glance.

Yet the door creaked open. It shouldn’t have, but his ears registered the sound clearly enough, alongside an odd slivering, rustling sound. More obvious was the sound of his voice. A voice Bob did not want to hear. Not now, and not ever.

“Ah hello… I thought I might give you a visit.”

Otto. Why the hell was he here? Why now? It all felt so unreal. Bob made the mistake of turning to face him. His silence was clearly making the other uncomfortable, still lingering by the open door and panting ever so slightly from the climb. 

Offhandedly, Bob noted, it was probably hard for Otto. Despite being one of the smartest psychic minds– supposedly— Otto’s psychic powers weren’t quite as adept. Levitation wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Something about his output being somewhat limited. He was good at hypnosis. Agility though? Not so much. He’d purposefully uprooted his house so nobody could access it. The vines were meant to keep anyone out. And yet he’d climbed up. And yet the doors had been opened.

Even in his foggy state, Bob had to remind himself that the vines couldn’t have helped him. They were so entwined with his own consciousness after all. They wouldn’t have let him in. No, the problem was that Otto kept on sticking his nose where it didn’t belong– where nothing belonged.

“Otto,” Bob finally spoke, his voice rough from being unused for a long time.

“Yes, Otto Mentallis, that’s me. It, ah, sure has been awhile, you know!” There was silence when Otto paused, cleared his throat, and continued all the same. “Well, of course you know, but… I’ll be honest and make it quick if need be. We’re getting worried about ya, Bob. So I just… wanted to check in and all. I know…” 

He sighed, and there was something about him that looked so defeated. So far from the man who posed in front of flashy cameras and encouraged all the paparazzi and all the other things that angered Bob. All the things that had made everything they had been through feel like nothing more than a colorful comic book for kids and an overinflated legend for celebrities.

“I know things have been hard for you, so I’d like to be there if I can. And Bob, I want to reassert that I am so, so sor-”

“You’re what, Otto?” Bob’s voice was a low snarl, surprisingly quick at that. Otto had been silenced from the shock. “For someone who’s supposed to be smart, you sure are dense. Did you really think coming here would be a good idea? Really?”

“Well, you see, I-”

Bob wouldn’t let Otto finish. He couldn’t. He hadn’t wanted Otto to even start, but his reaction time was sluggish. “Quit trying to fix things, Mentallis! You like to think you can make things better, but you can’t! You can’t make up for anything!”

He jabbed a finger in Otto’s direction, but his movements felt too distant and sudden all at once.”And you know what else? I don’t want ‘help!’” He lurched forward, close to Otto’s face. Otto could certainly smell the alcohol on his breath like this, but Bob didn’t care. “Especially not from you!”

Otto smiled, for some reason. It took a second, his eyes and mouth faltering on what they were trying to convey; but just like a flick of a switch, he was looking in Bob’s eyes and smiling. It almost seemed kind, and Bob felt a nerve being struck. He had wanted for Otto to be hurt, and it almost seemed as if he had achieved that, and yet, he smiled? It was infuriating.

“Ah… I thought you would say something like that,” Otto said. “Good ol’ Bob.”

Bob wanted to punch him. He wanted to punch him so bad. He almost did, but a wave of nausea kept his fist lowered. He heard the vines in the greenhouse slither, tense.

“This is just like us to bicker like this,” Otto chuckled lowly, looking aside. The way he said it felt heavy. Way too heavy, for such a childish statement.

“You’re such a goddamn liar.” Bob’s powers surfaced with his anger, the vines around him stirring more with pent-up aggression. “I don’t want to fucking hear it. You can fake it all you want as you rot away alone in your lab for all I care; but don’t you dare make a mockery of what I’ve been through.”

“I’m sorry, Bob. And maybe I will rot alone as you say, but I wouldn’t wish the same fate on anyone else.” His smile fell, his tone of voice somber. “Which is why I’d like to offer you whatever you need, so long as I have the ability to do so.”

“What I need isn’t coming back,” Bob hissed. “Other than that, I need you to leave me alone and NEVER come back.”

“Bob…” Otto’s face softened– a slight moment of vulnerability. He didn’t seem surprised personally by the statement, but instead fearful of something Bob’s mind couldn’t conjure. “I can leave now if that’s what you wish, however I…” His face hardened once more, his fingers tightening into fists at his sides. “I’m not giving up on you, Bob. We can get you specialists who can help you. Our Psi-Portals are more stable now– with your consent, I can go in your mind personally if need be–”

Bob laughed at that. Shakily at first, but louder and louder, with a scary amount of energy considering how lethargic he’d been acting. “You’re not giving up on me?”

That was the cue for the vines. They coiled around like snakes, grabbing empty bottles and lashing them out at Otto’s direction like whips. To his credit, the man had good reflexes and ducked before processing what was going on. The glass shattered against the wall behind him and rained down to the floor. Otto stepped back, closer to the door.

“Bob. Please, wait…”

“You’re not giving up on me?” Bob repeated, his speech slurring as his head lolled back in a twisted laugh. “It’s a bit late for that! You’re supposed to be smart, Otto!” His smile dropped suddenly, only radiating anger. “Your inventions were supposed to work too. Guess we all were wrong about you.”

“We– no… you all don’t understand.” For the first time he’d been there, Otto looked aggravated. You think I don’t blame myself constantly?!” He covered his face with his hands, scrubbing the skin roughly. There was a flash of panic in his eyes, like a cornered animal. The first bottles had been thrown. Bob was a ticking time bomb, and Otto clearly had more to say.

“...This is because of me. I will admit that. If my invention had worked, we wouldn’t have lost our friend. Maybe even… you know… sometimes I think even still, that maybe we could have saved them. Saved them both.”

In the slow lull that followed, Bob whispered her name in the silence. His rage bubbled forth at the soft sound coming from his own mouth. Not the name plastered on newspapers, or action-packed comic books, but the name of an old friend: not Maligula, but—

“That monster and you both! All of you! Don’t you dare ever come back! Don’t you dare-!”

The vines thrashed into motions again, convulsing violently as if desperate to strike. They bristled with thorns, grabbed empty bottles and threw them at Otto, whose duck only narrowly avoided the piercing glass. The surge of power from Bob did not relent, and Otto flung the door open as quickly as he could, ducking behind the wood.

He stared at Bob for a moment, eyes desperate and pleading. Glass shattered nearby, and he winced as a shard sliced an angry cut across his cheek. They seemed to stop then, coiling ominously as if daring him to take a step forward.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bob knew Otto could be using eye contact to hypnotize him. That if Otto wanted to, Bob wouldn’t be able to fight back. Maybe the old him, being a psychic powerhouse, could resist– but not now. Not when he felt disconnected to all his senses. He’d let himself go. Part of him screamed that it didn’t matter what happened. Maybe Otto would mess his mind up even worse. Maybe Bob deserved for others to bend him. To see how long he took to break completely— like Fo-

Like another ex-friend he didn’t want to think about.

Otto didn’t use his powers though, or fight whatsoever. He simply stood there, defeated. He wiped the blood off his cheek before it dribbled down his chin. He said one last thing before he left: “I’m sorry. I’ll be in my lab if you… need me.”

And then the door shut. The footsteps faded.

Bob glared at the place he’d left for what felt like an eternity. His stomach churned, a balled up fist twitching at his sides as he stared at the place that suddenly seemed too empty and quiet in Otto’s absence. But that was the way it was supposed to be. That was what fate had decided Bob deserved, if such a thing existed. He turned away slowly. Picked up a flask and brought it to his lips.

He heard his vines shift, settling back into place. A creak amidst it. When Bob glanced, just to be sure, he saw the door was opened just a crack. He’d watched Otto close the door, and yet.

It didn’t take long to lumber over towards it. It felt longer than it should, though. Bob looked out for a moment, but Otto was gone. 

A vine began to touch the door, but Bob slammed it shut personally, hard enough to make the door rattle in its frame. It remained closed this time.

That done, the silence settled again. Things were back to the way they were meant to be. Because life wasn’t meant to be fair, Helmut was clearly gone, and Bob?

Bob would rot alone.