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Darkness gripped at Boxten’s skin. He felt something clawing at him, and it was quiet. Not calm-quiet, but a silence that shudders through a toon’s body. A silence that is far from empty. A silence with something else that can’t be named. Something that could kill him. It would kill him! Boxten gasped for air and- oh. It was another nightmare. His chest heaved, and his hands were shaking.
The lights on Glisten’s vanity mirror hummed. Makeup wiped off, Glisten stared at himself, confident smirk long gone. For such a perfect toon, he certainly didn’t feel like it. Glisten stood up, turning away from the mirror. He opened the door and stopped. Did he hear crying? Inching closer to Boxten’s door, he held his breath. Oh, this wasn’t just crying. Glisten hesitated for only a moment before cracking open the door.
“Boxy? Are you alright in there?” Glisten questioned, “Can I come in?”
His voice shook, “You can…” Boxten didn’t look up, “Did I wake you up?”
“No, I was still up. Come on, let’s watch TV.”
Glisten smiled, covering Boxten in a blanket. He placed his hand on the nervous toon’s shoulder, hoping to ease some of his fear. Walking down the hall in silence, Glisten slipped his hand off of Boxten’s shoulder and clutched his hand.
Oh, Glisten’s hands were cold! Boxten didn’t mind that, surprisingly. Even more surprisingly, they were holding hands. He looked up at Glisten, whose face seemed to reflect a little pinker. Boxten quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed. Why did this keep happening? Glisten must have hated him by now. What an annoyance to have his night interrupted by some pathetic toon’s nightmare. Sitting down, Boxten wrapped himself tightly in the blanket.
Boxten shifted to lean closer to Glisten, “What do you want to watch?”
“Help me find the tape for Stage Fright, I’m in that one!” Glisten smiled, “Though, I’m sure you remember.”
Flustered, Boxten started, “I-I… I do. I like that one.”
Glisten felt himself grow hot. Boxten liked Stage Fright specifically? Was it because Glisten was in it? He hoped so. The tapes for each episode were all nicely lined up, except for a few. Some were simply strewn along the floor. At least he was sure the rug was clean.
“Got it!” Boxten smiled, “Let me put it in…”
Glisten found himself staring as Boxten set up the show. His key turned, focused. Thank goodness he looked away before Boxten noticed! Boxten sat down beside Glisten, but he still looked nervous.
Turning to face him, Glisten asked, “I’m guessing a nightmare again?”
“Yeah. Sorry this keeps happening,” Boxten covered his face, “It must be annoying.”
The tv turned on, bathing both toons in a soft light. Everything around Boxten started feeling far away. He was scared to open his eyes. Boxten felt wispy hands grabbing at him, he swore he did. Then he felt something real right next to him.
Glisten leaned on Boxten, sighing, “I don’t mind. I just don't want any of my adoring fans to be so miserable!” he joked, taking Boxten’s hand in his.
Thank goodness, Glisten thought as Boxten finally laughed. He looked at the TV, but focused more on the toon next to him. He looked so tired. How many nights had it been since this started? When did he last a full night’s sleep? Glisten yawned just thinking about it. When did he last have any real beauty rest?
Boxten mumbled, “You know, it’s always the same dream.”
“What? Do you remember what happens in the dream?” Glisten asked, intrigued, “If you care to tell me, that is.”
Closing his eyes, Boxten recalled, “It’s dark and quiet. Something is tearing at my skin, and- and…” he paused, “then I think I… die.”
A sound effect pierced through the silence. Both toons looked at the screen, where Astro was racing off stage. Astro.
“I don’t… I don’t think Astro likes me very much.” Boxten said, looking away.
Glisten scoffed, “Well, that’s his problem! I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t like you.”
Oh, shoot… Glisten froze, hoping Boxten didn’t think too hard about it.
He was thinking too hard about it. What was Glisten saying? Why did he stop talking? Oh, no. Everything was going… Well, not the greatest. Oh, no, Boxten just told Glisten way too much!
“Well, why were you up?” Boxten asked, “If you don’t mind!”
Everything froze. Glisten felt like he could shatter, Boxten’s perception of him on the line. He swallowed, knowing it was too late to pretend he was just up. He wouldn’t have hesitated so much or reacted so harshly if nothing was wrong. Of course Boxten would pick up on it. Glisten could barely open his mouth to speak.
He broke, “I was thinking.” Glisten’s hands started to tremble, “Thinking about how imperfect I am.”
Shame flooded Glisten’s mind. He was made to be perfect. But now here he was, on the couch watching tv with Boxten, falling apart.
Boxten didn’t know what to say. The least he could do was put his hand on his back, or say something! What was there to say? Now Glisten was crying and Boxten was just sitting there like an idiot.
“I think you’re perfect!” He quickly said, hoping to give Glisten some comfort.
“That’s the issue! Everyone thinks I’m perfect, so I have to be perfect!” Glisten sobbed, “I want to be perfect, but I can’t! I can’t…”
That was not what Boxten expected. He pulled Glisten closer, drying his tears with the blanket. Boxten cycled through anything he could say, but he just let Glisten cry into his shirt for a while. The tv played on, and eventually, Glisten stopped.
His voice was raw, “I think I should go,” Glisten wiped a tear off his glass.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying with you,” Boxten offered, “I promise.”
How sad. He’s wasting his time. Glisten allowed him to accompany him back to his room. They sat in silence for what felt like hours. This was stupid! Glisten laughed, confusing himself. Boxten looked uncomfortable, like he would throw up.
What’s left to lose? Glisten inhaled, “Boxten, you’re a good listener. Not a great talker, but I appreciate you trying. Maybe your nightmares will disappear if you have someone with you.”
“Like- wha-...? Thank you.” Boxten stammered, looking flustered.
He knew what he meant. Glisten laid down in bed, closing his eyes. He just hoped Boxten would lie down already.
This was terrifying. Boxten thought he might start shaking. But he laid down anyway. He felt Glisten’s arms around him, and it was quiet. Not nightmare-quiet, but a warm, comforting quiet. A silence full of understanding. A silence with something that could be named. Easily. Boxten closed his eyes.
It wasn’t perfect. It might never be perfect. It was awkward, and neither of the toons really knew what to do. But it was still comfortable. Both of them fell asleep in each other’s arms, knowing it didn’t all have to be perfect to feel right.