Work Text:
“You might as well-“
“No.”
Airy let go of the button on his microphone, watching as Soda Bottle angrily faced away from the pole in the ground. He didn’t understand what was wrong; he had made the challenge so easy, all they had to do was step onto the pole, and yet they still refused. He frowned, leaning back towards his microphone. “All you have to do is step on the pole,” Airy attempted to reason, “there’s not much point in-“
“No! Airy, just stop,” Soda Bottle looked up at Airy, even though he didn’t know he was looking up at him. “We’re not struggling to do the challenge, we are refusing. You really took us from our lives, put us in the middle of nowhere, and expect us to climb poles and play games for your entertainment? Are you stupid?” Airy quietly responded, “I’m not stupid.”
“God, what is wrong with you?!” Soda Bottle shouted, startling Airy slightly. He felt a slight discomfort in his chest, staring blankly at the bottle as he faced away once again. “Um… I’ll be back,” Airy mumbled into the microphone, before letting go of the button and standing. He began to pace around the cave, his mind spiralling as he did so. Did his contestants think something was wrong with him? Why were they refusing to do his challenge? He put in the effort to make the challenge for them, and even made it easier, but they just wouldn’t do it.
Anger began to develop inside of Airy.
Why weren’t things going how he wanted? Why weren’t things going how he planned? He spent so much time planning ONE - refining his methods of creating challenges, learning how to revive contestants, figuring out the computer and how to do things more efficiently - did the contestants just not appreciate his efforts? Airy felt pricking in his eyes, his face scrunching. He awkwardly crawled under his desk, sitting with his knees to his chest.
Was it really his fault? Did he do something wrong? Airy had been truly trying his best to make ONE fun for the contestants, yet his efforts were continuously dismissed. He sighed, before the sigh turned into a quiet sob; he hadn’t even noticed he was crying.
Airy felt so scatterbrained, and his contestants likely felt the same about him. They probably saw him as a joke - reckless, irresponsible and incompetent. He didn’t entirely disagree. An ache filled his throat as he sat under his desk, rocking back and forth unconsciously. The aching got worse until it dragged a loud cry out of him, as he hid his face in his knees, hands grabbing at his head. He finally understood why Soda Bottle thought something was wrong with him.
His hands balled in fists and pounded against his head as he continued to loudly sob and gasp, feeling like all the air had escaped his lungs. Airy felt so useless and broken, and, even if he was alone, he felt like he was being watched and mocked. He scrambled to get up and grabbed his tape recorder off of his desk, still breathing heavily. Airy sat back down on the ground, hands shaking as he attempted to work the recorder. He finally managed to press play, and the familiar sound of a guitar filled his ears. He kept hyperventilating, but not as heavily, as he quietly rocked to the music. The soft vocals calmed him.
After a few loops of the song, Airy finally felt calm again. The recorder was still playing as he stood, so he brought it to the desk, placing it down. He sat back in his chair, looking to The Plane to find that Backpack had fallen onto the pole. A small smile spread across his face, and he cleared his throat, preparing to speak into the microphone again.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad that a few of his contestants were unwilling to take part.