Work Text:
Paintbrush couldn’t deal with staring at the piles of crumpled papers in front of them anymore. They actually spent a lot of time like this, frustration welling up inside them as they threw yet another paper away. This time, however, it had nothing to do with their art, this time it was letters.
Paintbrush wasn’t always great with words. Curses? Sure. Yelling? Of course. This type? No.
In the past months, they had received letter after letter from Marshmallow. Each one talking about how things have been for her and mentions of roommates that she didn’t want to disclose the names for. How she’d been feeling so much better after leaving the game. How she missed paintbrush but wasn’t able to tell them where she was.
Paintbrush, unlike some other residents, saved every single letter. The most recent one had been echoing in their head for days, specifically the last sentence.
‘I think I’ll be ready to meet you soon. I miss you.’
They couldn’t focus on anything. Their painting class from earlier that week had been a mess, every time they had tried to spend time with the other residents their mind was occupied, they could barely do anything without thinking of her. Until they decided it was enough. They decided to sit down and write out everything they felt. A large letter detailing how marshmallow abandoning them made them feel. They knew it made no sense to write a letter that could never be sent; every letter marsh sent lacked any indication of where she was.
Their latest draft was filled with cut off sentences, curses, and irritated scribbles. Screaming through messy handwriting about how they hated Marshmallow for leaving them alone and not giving any type of notice or reason. At least, it wasn’t a viable reason in Paintbrush’s mind, not viable enough to leave them alone.
Paintbrush could feel their face burning red, their bristles heating up as well. They gritted their teeth as they stared down at the bold, scratchy words they had written. Addressed to Marshmallow. One of their closest friends.
In a swift movement, they stood up and grabbed the paper, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it on their desk. They made a beeline for the door, ignoring whatever comment fan had made, as they stormed out into the hotel’s hallway. They made their way outside with no resistance, the other residents knowing it’s best to wait until paintbrush had cooled down before interacting with them. They continued on their fiery, angry path as they stormed between trees, almost leaving scorched grass behind them.
It didn’t make sense to them. Why would she leave? She had tried to explain it in the letters, but her excuse didn’t hold up. Yes, the show sucked, paintbrush knew that better than anyone, they had been on three seasons of it! It didn’t matter if it was stupid or not, it was more stupid of her to leave.
Every thought of her caused their bristles to burn hotter, and every step became heavier and harsher. It was to the point they didn’t even fully know where they were. Somewhere in the woods nearby the hotel. They could see part of a building further out, assumedly it was that stupid haunted house from season 2. They grumbled, finally coming to a stop. They could feel the rage tumbling within them, building up with no release now that they had stopped moving. Their fists clenched, and their teeth practically ground together until it was too much. Without thinking, they brought their foot up and roughly kicked a tree next to them.
“MOTHER FUCKER!” they hissed.
The sharp pain shot through their foot and partially up their leg. The blood boiling sensation from before was overpowered by the feeling of their throbbing foot. They mumbled out more curses and hissed in pain. The feeling of frustration bubbling up in them once again, they could feel the heat reaching their bristles, coming on as fast as it went away earlier.
They heard the crackle of flames above them as their fiery bristles reached upward, scorching a low hanging leaf on the tree nearby. They grumbled and stomped a little ways a way, trying to get away from the greenery as their flame flickered. Their ears rang as the crackling raged on and the pain in their foot swelled.
Then they heard a voice, “Paintbrush?”
It had been years but they knew that voice anywhere, high-pitched and just slightly nasally. They had been waiting so long to hear that voice and of course it would happen now, as they cursed and screamed over an injury that they caused themself.
They turned around to find who they expected: marshmallow. She looked concerned, as she tentatively took a step forward. She was still several feet away and she made no move closer other than that first step. There was an underlying sense of fear in her eyes as well, like she was waiting for the inevitable. Paintbrush was too. They were waiting for their flame to grow hotter and flare up to burn the trees around the two till the forest was left with burnt ash. They were waiting for their mouth to move faster than their brain could, spouting out curses and screams at her. They were waiting for everything they wrote in that letter to come out.
But nothing came.
The crackling of their bristles quieted as the flames quickly died out, as if something had doused their fire. They felt the way their foot practically went numb. They felt their fists unclench, their shoulders droop, and their jaw relax. There were no venomous words bubbling up inside their throat, instead they felt a lump, forcing them to not repeat any of the words they had thought or had written previously. They couldn’t even remember what they had thought before, it wasn’t at all what they were thinking now. The only thing they could focus on was marshmallow; how much better she looked, how her concerned voice echoed through their mind, how they missed her more than they thought they did. Most of all, they could only focus on how relieved they were to see her again.
With stumbling feet, they closed the distance between them, a pang of guilt ringing in them as they saw marshmallow’s eyes widen. They practically fell to their knees, wrapping the smaller object into a tight hug. Marshmallow squeaked at contact and paused before returning the action.
Paintbrush didn’t hug a lot, they just weren’t that kind of person, they had never hugged marshmallow before but they wished they had. She had a firm hold on them and she was soft to hold in return. No matter how long they had sat squeezing onto each other, neither one let go. Paintbrush could feel the slightest bit of tears begin to well up in their eyes and they cursed under their breath.
Marshmallow slowly retracted, still keeping her hands on their shoulders, only inches apart from each other. She looked at them silently checking in. Paintbrush let out a dry laugh, roughly digging into their eyes, trying to cover up the forming tears.
“I missed you,” They managed to choke out.
Marshmallow sadly smiled, “I missed you too,” she looked down at the grass underneath them then back to paintbrush. Paintbrush felt her hands unconsciously tighten on their shoulders as marshmallow looked at them once more, “You’re not mad at me? … I ran away and I didn’t even tell you why or where. You were- I left you alone.”
Paintbrush felt the tears coming back to the surface, a wet laugh bubbling up, “I’m so fucking pissed at you, Marsh.”
Marshmallow opened her mouth to speak, but Paintbrush silenced her, pulling her in for another rough hug. Her hands, once again, hesitantly returned to wrap around them as well.
Paintbrush squeezed her tighter, “But right now I don’t care. It- I just- I’m so happy to see you.”
Marshmallow returned the squeeze, “Me too.”