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“Hey, tb, I need some help over here.” Golfball says, she’s working on a project in her underground factory with tennis ball. “Tb?” … tennis ball seems to be lost in thought. “TB!” Golfball shouts. “Oh, um.. yes, golfball?” He says, blushing slightly. “You’ve been acting awful weird tb…” She says, suspiciously. “Just tired.” He laughs nervously. “Okay tb…” She says, not believing him. He stays alert for most of the project, occasionally staring at Golfball, until they are done for the day.
Golfball rides on tennis ball’s head, as he takes her to her house. He doesn’t talk to her much on the way home, which is unusual. She gets off at her house, the sun now almost set. “Bye tb!” Golfball says, tennis ball replying with “bye-bye!” He then turns and walks off, a little quicker than usual. “Odd…” Golfball mutters.
That night, tennis ball truly could not sleep, he’s known about his feelings for her, but today was different. He didn’t know why. Tossing and turning, he figures the only way to solve this is to tell her, they’ve been buddies for a long time, surely even if she says no, they can still be friends. He gets a little rest once he plans how he will do it, deciding on something cliche, giving her a box of chocolates and flat out asking.
The next day, he goes to her house early in the morning, with bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep, and knocks on her door. The sound of his knocking and the birds chirping is the only sound you would hear at this hour. She slowly opens the door. “Tb? What are you doing here at this hour?” She says, confused, and taking a mental note that this is another unusual thing that he’s done recently. Instead of asking to come in or anything, he begins to ask, his hands sweating and shaky. “Uhh.. gb.. I like you…” he says. “Well I like you too .. as a friend yeah…?” She says, not liking him as anything more than a friend, and hoping he feels the same, not wanting their relationship to become awkward. “No….” He replies shakily. “Ah….” Golfball hums out. “I.. uh.. like us better as friends, tb…” She follows up. “Aww…. Okay…”Tennis ball whispers, and then walks home.
Tennis ball, now in his home, eats the chocolates he bought her. He forgot to bring them anyway. He sighs, still processing the rejection.