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It was a day like any other, he laid there in his cage with the ping pong rackets and the other white spheres like himself. A boring regulere day of waiting for the fluorescent lights to turn on and for some mentally ill kid or therapist to unfold the blue table on the other side of the room and pick one of them for a match.
He hated it, someone like him, his flawless form deserved to be used by the best! Die a warrior's death by being hit so hard he shattered.
But instead he was here, in this small room that could barely be considered a gym, an ugly carpet wall decoration above him that looked more like a discolored egg than anything, waiting to be hit around by people that barely had any motor control at all.
He fucking hated it.
He was brought out of his thoughts as the door to the gym opened, light flickered on and the sounds of an older woman talking filled the room.
Group therapy this time huh?
Like usual he didn’t pay them much mind, only partly hoping to be the one to be used when he heard it.
A shy soft voice.
He had heard many different voices before, but this one? it was different
He wanted to get closer but he was just a ball.
The therapist walked by the basket explaining the game they would be playing, a simple game of around the table ping pong. Usually he hated that type of ping pong, it lessened the chances of an actually intense game but right now all he cared about was that voice and more than ever he wished to be picked.
He prayed for whatever god was out there that might listen to an object like him, to for once shine upon him, if he wasn’t to be a ball for the grates let him at least see the face of this sweet voice.
And for once they listened.
Painted nails reached down and picked him up showing him to the group. He immediately saw the face he was looking for, sweet eyes, gentle smile and other nondescript facial features.
The most beautiful person he had ever seen.
He needed to get closer.
And he would.
The older woman seperated the group up in two groups, three on each side and the game began.
Usually he would try his best to keep from falling off the table as long as possible, the longer the game the longer he could pretend he was in a real match.
But this time it was different.
Each hit he did his best to angle himself to fly in whatever direction necessary for his target.
They'd scratch and laugh but either way they managed to dodge him.
If only he was a human man, he could interact with them how he wanted.
Instead he could only show his affection by trying to bash into their face, leaving his mark on them.
It was like a dance between the two, he’d fly in their direction, desperately trying to pain their skin in bruising kisses and each time they would narrowly douge.
And still they would chase him as he rolled away, ever avoidant but never letting go.
A constant back and forth, one of them alway running and the other always chasing.
He had never felt so free.
Eventually time ran out, a piercing scratch of the timer telling them it was time to leave and go back to the reguler therapy group activity.
He was put back in his cage and they laughed, joking about his constant chase of them with another group member, how they never thought they'd be in a toxic romans with a ball.
They were joking, but if they only knew…
He heard as the group walked out but right before they left he heard the group leader offer to play again next week and his nonexistent heart sored.
Next week, he will get them.
And their skin will be beautifully bruised.