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A Shoulder To Lean On
Bad watched as Forever paced around Cellbit’s now-abandoned office, talking to himself under his breath. If Bad had to gauge where Forever was stress-wise on a scale from one to ten, he’d give him a solid six. It wasn’t too bad just yet. It’d get bad if he sat himself at the chair, if he started scribbling things out in angry Portuguese, if he had his head cradled in his gloved-hands as he stared down at a messy sheet of paper.
Forever was struggling, Bad knew. He had to fill in Cellbit’s shoes while he was off doing… whatever Cellbit thought he was doing. Bad knew it was personal. He would step in to help if he thought Forever would let him, but this went beyond just leading. This was Forever dealing with betrayal. For all that Forever paced and panicked, Bad never saw him lose himself in the anger that was clearly running through him.
There was still another level to break. That, above all, was terrifying. Bad wanted to give him hope, but that’s not something he can promise. Even if he thought Cellbit’s was trying to infiltrate the federation’s ranks, he couldn’t prove it. There was no need to add more stress onto Forever’s shoulders. The man looked as if he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep in the last week and his once tidy hair was spilling out of its braid. Bad would offer to fix it if he thought Forever would let him.
There was a lot Bad wished he could do for Forever. He wished he could take his burdens and handle them by himself, but he knew better than to imply Forever couldn’t do it. He could, but Bad wished he didn’t feel like he had to. For now, Bad simply waited for Forever to gather his thoughts into one cohesive line. When he was ready, Forever would ask Bad for his input and Bad would try his best to stay objective. He would keep his concerns in and simply stay within arms length to help should his friend need him.
He didn’t like it, but that was all Bad could do. Maybe if he was someone else, he could do more. Maybe he could distract Forever. If Richarlyson was with them, it would make Forever so happy. Richas is his only tether to sanity. It’s a lot of pressure for a child, but it’s a pressure Bad can’t help but envy. He wants to be useful so badly, but he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. He’s afraid of Forever chasing him away. He wants to be there, so even if it’s in bitter silence, Bad will be at Forever’s back.
Forever spat something Bad couldn’t understand under his breath and plopped himself down onto the chair behind Cellbit’s desk. He’s moved onto aggressively writing plans and ideas that wouldn’t go anywhere. Bad tucked his legs beneath himself and wondered how long Forever would do this to himself. He flexed his jaw, unsure if he should speak up or not. Bad was used to making his presence small when Forever got like this, but it hasn’t helped.
“Hey.”
Bad almost winces at how unsure, how small, his voice comes out. He’s not used to being in this position. He’s not used to feeling like an intruder around Forever. Forever’s brown eyes, stormy and never ending, drag up to Bad’s face sluggishly. Like he didn’t even mean to, but found himself there anyway. There’s a lot Bad could ask. A lot of things he should ask. He bites his lip, nervous and frustrated.
“W-when’s the last time you slept, Forever?”
He feels dumb for asking. Out of every question that passed through his mind, he had to ask that? Forever huffs dryly, his expression still as lethargic as it’s been since he sat down.
“A few days ago?” He humors Bad. “It’s hard to sleep with everything going on.”
“Can I do something?” Bad pushes out with an exhale. “Anything. To help you, I mean.”
It takes a lot of willpower to keep in his concerned ramblings. He wants to offer a lot of things. Food, a bed, a shower, a day off. He doesn’t know if Forever would accept any of it. Forever runs a hand down his face. His gloves are worn down, the threads coming loose at the bottom, and just as sad-looking as Forever himself. The sigh he gives is heavy, like an anchor dragging its victim to the bottom of the sea.
“Some tea would be really nice,” Forever answered eventually.
Bad’s never seen Forever drink tea. He thinks he just said it to give him something to do, but Bad doesn’t care. He steeps the tea (green, so Forever avoids a caffeine spike) with more care than is probably necessary and adds what he hopes is an appropriate amount of honey. He uses one of his nicer cups instead of the chipped mugs in the office. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but Bad desperately wants to get something right. Even if Forever doesn’t know what he’s done, Bad will.
Even if Forever feels like crap, at least the tea will be warm and pretty. He places the tea in front of Forever with a slice of toast and jam. It’s not the most nutritious thing, but it was easily made. Forever’s smile is distracted, but genuine. It eases the tension around Bad’s heart a little. He stands a little straighter and takes a deep breath to brace himself for the question he’s about to ask.
“Can I fix your hair?” He asks quickly, a little embarrassed. “If you’re comfortable with me. It. Um.”
Forever pauses chewing for a split second before he continues. He looks up at Bad, his full attention on him for the first time today. He swallowed his food and tilted his head, slowly glancing between Bad and the braid spilling over his shoulder.
“You have a brush?” Forever asked after a short moment of silence.
“I do,” Bad nodded, relieved. “I have long hair too, you know.”
Forever gave a teasing smile. “Oh believe me, I know.”
The comment makes Bad’s stomach flip. He pushes his hair behind his ear nervously and distracted himself by looking for the brush in his backpack. He hears Forever laugh a little before he takes another bite of toast and feels grateful that Forever can’t see the warmth in his cheeks. He takes a second to calm down before he turns back to Forever.
His heart skips a beat as Forever undoes his messy braid halfheartedly. His fingers work to ease some loose knots that have started to form rather unsuccessfully.
“Let me do it,” Bad murmured as he walked behind Forever.
Bad gathers Forever’s hair and brings it to the back of his head, casually undoing the rest of his braid. Forever shivers as Bad runs his fingers down his hair.
“Sorry. Did that hurt?” Bad doesn’t know if he’s being gentle enough. Doing someone else’s hair is a lot different than doing his own.
Forever clears his throat and takes a sip of his tea before he answers in a thick voice.
“No, not at all. Don’t worry about it, I can handle a little hair pulling.”
Bad’s not entirely convinced, so he slows down. He’s careful as he works through the smaller knots with his hands. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Running his hands through Forever’s hair made brushing it out a lot easier. Bad split Forever’s hair into three sections and started brushing on the left. Forever hummed, finally picking up his pen again. Bad let the scratch of Forever’s pen wash over him as he carried on with his task.
It was easy to fall into his own thoughts, gently and generously brushing Forever’s hair. He spent perhaps more time than what was needed on the task, but he couldn’t really help himself. He didn’t want to feeling of… closeness? Fondness? Something soft and quaint and foreign. He didn’t want it to end. Was that weird? Forever was his closest friend on the island, or at the very least one of them, and he loved spending time with him.
But he felt… different around him. Energized and anxious and confident and cautious all at the same time. He craved closeness and feared it in equal measure. It was a strange combination of feelings to hold for anyone, much less someone Bad would consider a best friend. He doesn’t remember ever going through this with any of his other friends, but his relationship with Forever was also very different than it was with anyone else he’d met so far.
It was interesting. Exciting. Bad liked knowing a little bit about everything he could. Forever felt like… a puzzle. Not something to solve, but something to slowly discover. An unfinished picture. Forever slumped forward a bit, thankfully after Bad had pulled the brush away from his hair. Bad looked over Forever’s shoulder and leaned back in surprise, a short spike of elation running through him.
Forever fell asleep. He’s really, truly asleep. For the first time in a long while. Bad smiled as he finished the last section of Forever’s hair. He carded his fingers through his smooth hair, finally free of knots. A lot of the tension he felt earlier in the day melted away. It was such a relief just to see Forever get some rest. Bad was extra careful when he braided Forever’s hair, his touch feather-light. The last thing he wanted to do was wake his friend up.
The end result wasn’t as good as it could be, but it was the best Bad could do while keeping Forever asleep. Bad stepped away from Forever carefully, mindful of the noise he made. Bad dimmed down the light in the room and left the door open as he left, knowing he’d be back. He went back to his current base (number… five? If he counted all those two by two rooms as bases he’s made) to get a blanket, and optimistically, a pillow for Forever.
Bad warped back to the favela, a blanket folded under his arm and a pillow on top of it. Bad goes back into the office and drops the pillow onto the couch across from Cellbit’s desk (Forever’s, now) and quietly walks back to where he was before. He unfolds the blanket, thin but warm, and drapes it across Forever’s shoulders. Forever went from leaning on one hand while he slept to laying his head on his arms, still asleep but significantly harder to move around.
Bad takes the almost-empty teacup and plate back outside to the small kitchenette Cellbit added to the outside of his office. He resisted the urge to clean them right then and there, instead returning to the office where Forever slept soundly. The question was; should Bad risk waking Forever up just to slide a pillow between his arms and his head. Is comfort worth that? Bad plops himself down on the couch, cradling his head in his hands as he stared at Forever in deep thought.
He looked peaceful, the calmest he’s seen in at least two weeks. Bad took the pillow into his arms and drank in the image of Forever. Pale skin (when’s the last time he got some sun?), dark circles under his eyes, and light snore coming out of slightly parted-
Bad’s mind blanked out. Something’s wrong with him, surely. He buried his head into the pillow, the cool pillow case comforting to his warm skin. He peaked back over the pillow Bad’s not sure when it happened, but at some point his gaze on Forever turned hazy. He yawned and leaned back on the couch, turning his tired attention to the ceiling. Bad let his eyes slip close. He would probably wake up soon enough and he could wake up Forever from there. Sleeping over a desk couldn’t possibly be comfortable…
A Hand to Hold
Forever groaned quietly, stretching his back and cracking his neck. He hissed and held his head in his hands to stave off the headache. When Forever leaned forward again, something that was over his shoulders fell down between the chair and his back. Forever blinked in confusion and picked the blueish-gray blanket up. The texture was soft and the material seemed to enhance his natural body heat. It was light and extremely comfortable.
Forever’s attention was drawn to the couch by Bad unconsciously moving in his sleep. Forever’s eyes trailed from Bad’s face, down to the pillow he hugged to his chest, before lingering on his exposed midriff. There was something endearing about it all. Forever brought the blanket up to his face and leaned back over the desk to watch Bad sleep, even if his back protested the position.
He found himself smiling as Bad used one arm as a pillow and the other to cuddle (who would have guessed?) the actual pillow closer to his chest. He took a deep breath and wondered if this was Bad’s blanket. Should he wake him up? How long had they been asleep? The light in the room was turned off and the clock he threw in frustration was never replaced. The only light in the room came from a candle that really should have been put out (did he light that?) and a few stripes of light that came from under the closed door.
Forever huffed a laugh at the way Bad had fallen asleep. His feet were hanging over the edge of the couch, enough to avoid his boots on the fabric but not enough to touch the ground, and his hood was almost completely down. Forever snickered into the blanket as Bad’s hair fell over his face, making him scrunch up his nose in his sleep. Bad liked presenting himself in a certain way, one that gave off the energy of someone a lot more grave and severe than Bad truly was. Seeing this side of him warmed Forever’s heart.
Bad’s kindness is exactly what drew Forever to him. He likes to joke around and tease Forever whenever the opportunity presents itself, but he’s also extremely caring. He’s good with Richas and all the eggs, he’s good at making people feel welcome, and he’s especially good at grounding Forever in his moments of turbulence. Maybe it was a little pathetic to be in… love? Like? Maybe it was a little pathetic to feel the way he did about someone too oblivious to notice, but Forever didn’t regret it.
This, the blanket and Bad’s continued presence in Forever’s gloomy storm, was exactly what made it worth it. He could count on Bad to be there through thick and thin. Even though he’s treading murky waters… Bad is his lighthouse. Forever took another deep breath and let it go, silently admitting that he was just a little love sick. Not that he’d let Bad know how he felt. No. Knowing his best friend, he’d run off in embarrassment and hide away in one of the many places he made as emergency shelters.
Forever took the blanket and folded it to place it on the ground next to him. Forever watched as Bad’s hair finally became too bothersome to ignore, triggering a kitten sneeze that woke him up. Just another thing Forever wished he could memorialize. Forever watched as Bad slowly blinked the sleep away from his eyes, finally freeing the pillow from his iron grip. He swallowed unthinkingly when Bad pushed his hair away from his face, letting the long strands fall back to frame his face naturally.
Forever almost wished he had a camera to capture it, but before he knew it, Bad had lifted his hood back over his face.
“Hey,” Forever whispered fondly. “Morning.”
Bad’s voice was thick with sleep, almost a slur, as he responded. “We slept that long?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know what time it is.”
“Mmm. Sorry,” Bad yawned. “I didn’t think you’d wake up before me. Just wanted to make sure… that you got some sleep.”
“Well,” Forever smirked. “I had very sweet dreams.”
“Yeah?” Bad asked, resisting another yawn.
“Mhm. You were in them.” Despite his teasing tone, Forever felt his heart beat a little faster.
Bad wouldn’t connect the dots, the silly man never seemed to understand, but it didn’t matter. Forever knew what he meant. Maybe one day, Bad would too.
“You were in mine too.”
For a second, Forever’s mind short circuited. He told himself to calm down. The closest Bad’s gotten to flirting were cheesy pick up lines from old sitcoms.
“So were Richarlyson and Dapper. It was really nice.”
And of course, Bad was being genuine. The man couldn’t possibly fathom being anything less than wholesome for even a moment.
“It sounds lovely,” Forever smiled, his heart feeling particularly gooey.
It really did. Bad, him, and their sons. Not individually, but together. A family.
“Thank you for taking care of me today,” Forever expressed tenderly. “Even though I’ve been… weird lately.”
“Of course,” Bad replied, as if he couldn’t fathom doing anything but helping him. “I’ll always be in your corner. Always.”
“Yeah?” Forever grinned.
Bad rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “Yeah.”
When Bad said it… Forever felt that it could be true.
Collecting Step Dads
Richas pinned his latest prize to his hidden scrapbook. It was a picture of his papa and Uncle Bad asleep in papa Cellbit’s office. He had gone in after waking up alone and struck gold. Instead of waking up papa Forever, he lit a candle and closed the office door for them. Candles were supposed to be romantic, right? Either way, Richas had gotten much more than he thought from his trip down into papa Cell’s weird obsession room.
He tucked the scrapbook into the bottom drawer of his nightstand and puffed up proudly at the copy he held. This one was for papa Pac and papa Mike.