Work Text:
In the heat of the moment, both Pin and Pencil think they’re doing the right thing every time they get tangled up with each other.
The sheets are warm beneath them, and there’s an air of nostalgia when it comes to kissing Pin. It almost feels like Pencil’s the same girl she was nearly a decade ago, messing around with whoever she’s particularly fond of that month. Pencil would do anything for even a taste of that feeling again- For anything but the hollow dread that looms in her chest nowadays, and the threat of elimination based on her performance that’s always over her head. Now, it’s just Pin. A Pin who’s much nicer, much more rational than she ever remembered her being.
Pin doesn’t do well in overly casual relationships, especially nowadays. She knows, deep down, that she shouldn’t be searching for something more in Pencil of all people, but Pencil knows just the right things to say to her to make her think maybe, just maybe this might mean something more. Pin might’ve been able to handle it if it was a one-time thing, but this has become something of a routine lately.
Pin will admit what her BFDIA self a decade ago wasn’t able to admit to even herself- Pencil is really hard not to fall for.
When there’s no space between the two of them, Pin’s almost convinced that Pencil wants her as much as she does her. And Pencil’s almost convinced that her life hasn’t been crashing down around her.
It’s much different in the aftermath. It’s strained. It’s awkward. The two lay apart from each other with a considerable space in between. Pin’s eyes awkwardly shift over to the other, but Pencil doesn’t look back. Pin turns back around, noticing the familiar shift in weight on the bed as Pencil sits up to leave.
“Are you leaving?” Pin asks. She knows the answer already, but she knows if she doesn’t ask, she’ll leave without a word.
“Yeah.” The other responds simply, standing from the bed. The sheets are cold, and Pin’s sick of it: Being told she matters to Pencil, and then feeling tossed aside every time she’s had her fill. She’s sick of yearning for something she knows all too well by now that she can’t get.
She’s not going to let Pencil leave without an explanation, this time.
“What do you get from doing this?” Pin asks, genuinely.
“What do you mean?” Pencil turns, finally looking at her. Pin defensively tenses up (How was she able to argue with Pencil all the damn time back then?), but she stands her ground.
“You know what I mean,” Pin says. Her voice is low, careful. “I don’t want to keep pretending this is fun. Not when it… it isn’t, not for me.”
Pencil sighs, knowing exactly what this is about. “So what? You want me to say I’m your girlfriend now? Is that it?”
Pin winces. Not because of the words, but how easily Pencil throws them.
“I- No!” Pin furrows her brow defensively, surprised at the audacity. “I just want you to be honest with me, Pencil.”
“About what? I never lied to you.” She crosses her arms.
“But you never act like you care about me.” Pin retorts. “You butter me up to get me to go along with what you want to do, and then you toss me aside.”
“I care. What, you think I’m using you?” There’s a beat. Pencil’s eyes sharpen with a signature exhaustion that’s been so characteristic of her lately. “You want something from me I don’t know how to give.”
There’s silence. Pin feels her self-restraint slipping, even when she tries so hard to keep it together nowadays.
She wraps her arms around herself. “You only want me because I’m the only one who’ll give you the time of day, right?”
Pencil’s body tenses.
“God, Pencil. You could’ve just said that, instead of dragging me into… this.” Pin gestures vaguely to the two of them, biting the inside of her cheek in a struggle to keep her composure.
“I don’t owe you anything.” Pencil shoots back defensively. “You knew what you were getting into when it came to dealing with me. I didn’t promise you anything.”
“You can’t keep doing this, Pencil,” Pin’s hands clench around the fabric of the blankets underneath her. “You can’t just keep doing whatever you want without taking anyone else’s feelings into consideration and expect them to stay! That isn’t how companionship works.
“I don’t want to be just that person to you, Pencil. I want to be something real. But if you’re not ready for that, I need to know," Pin continues, quieter.. "Because I can’t keep doing… whatever this is, if it’s always going to be me hanging onto something that doesn’t exist."
There’s silence between them once again, and Pin worries for a moment that she’s just ruined everything.
Pencil eventually lets out a shaky breath. "You don't get it, do you? You’re all I have right now.” She admits. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you be everything I need.”
“I don’t have to stay with you.” Pin points out. “I want to. But I’m not going to let you treat me like this.”
“Fine! Just leave me, like everyone else does.”
Pencil tenses, not meeting Pin’s eyes again. Pin has to take a moment to recompose herself. This conversation is going nowhere.
“I’m not… going to leave you.” Pin says, tired of arguing in circles. She knows that Pencil’s defensive, and even if she did have any feelings of remorse, she wasn’t about to show them in front of Pin right now. “Just… think about it, okay? We can… talk later.”
The pause between them is strained, but Pencil eventually lets out a breath.
“Fine. I’ll see you later.” She sighs, before she’s leaving without another word.