Chapter Text
Make it stop. Please, it burns. I’ll do better, I promise. Just make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. In the distance, a phone rings. But Spamton can’t move, can’t breathe. Everything is burning. His world reduced to a sea of green. Make it stop, please. Make it stop. He can’t take it anymore. He wants to die; he needs this to end.
…Someone save me.
Swatch was finishing off their tasks for the night when he heard the sobbing coming from the trash can. They had, at first, assumed it was one of the swatchlings. It wasn’t uncommon for them to panic when they saw a maus, but something was off. The sound wasn’t high enough. With a tilt of their head, they rested their broom up against the wall. Stepping out into the back alley of the café. The further down the alley walked, the clearer the sound became. And Swatch began to speed up as the sound became more and more distressed. Whoever it was, they sounded terrified. And Swatch wouldn’t forgive themselves if they ignored someone in trouble. Not after…him. Soon, Swatch finds themselves standing in front of one of the large bins they keep in front of the shop, and with one smooth tug, they open it up to reveal whoever was hiding inside.
They can’t help the gasp they let out at the sight.
“Spamton?”
The salesman is curled up on himself, hyperventilating so badly that Swatch is surprised he’s getting any air at all. Tears streak down his face. Leaving behind clear tracks as the water wipes away the dirt caked onto his face. Spamton’s glasses, usually as vibrant as their own, are dark with a strange static. It shifts and moves like falling snow. Tumbling across the glasses in a steady and consistent pattern.
Swatch reaches out a hand. Their talons barely brushing against Spamton’s body, when the salesman pulls back with a violent flinch. A static filled whine breaking past the panic breathing as Spamton prepares himself for an attack that wasn’t coming. The way he curled up felt practised. As if the salesman was used to people taking advantage of him in such a weakened state. It made Swatch feel ill. They pulled back their hand. Hovering just inches over the shaking figure before them. Kris had told them about what happened down in the basement, about the fight. But they never expected to find him alive and hiding out the back of their café. How long had he been here? Swatch had noticed bits of rubbish vanishing over the past few weeks, but they’d just assumed it was a maus. The salesman was filthy and his hair had begun to show its natural white colour at the roots. However long it had been, it was clear that it was too long. They needed to get Spamton back to their house so they could provide some care. But with the state the salesman was in, Swatch wasn’t sure they could move him without making everything worse.
“Spamton? Can you hear me?”
No reply, Spamton doesn’t even react to the noise. He just continues to stare forward lifelessly as his body twitches and shudders uncontrollably. They brush their talon against Spamton once more. Testing the waters. It brought him no relief when Spamton didn’t react. This wasn’t right. The whine continues to fill the air, but it doesn’t get any worse. It was the best they were going to get. As they begin to lift Spamton from the garbage, they have an idea. It was something normally reserved for distressed swatchlings. But maybe it would work for Spamton as well. They take a steady breath before concentrating. It starts off as barely a rumble until soon, Swatch was purring softly to the distressed salesman. They cradle Spamton against their chest as they began to make their way home.
It was late, which meant nobody was around to see the sorry state of the salesman. Swatch felt each shudder that ran through the smaller man’s body, and they had to fight back the urge to press him closer. They didn’t want to hurt him. The moment they got into the house, they settled Spamton onto their sofa. Spamton still did not react to the change of environment. But the whining had settled back down into the desperate gasping from before. Tugging a throw blanket off the back of the sofa. They wrapped it around Spamton’s shivering form. The soft material practically swallowing the small body. With only his glasses and nose peaking out from the fabric.
Swatch settles themselves down on the floor. Stretching out their legs as they lean against the arm of the sofa. What had they gotten themselves into? They knew how much their old friend despised help like this, but they couldn’t bring themselves to just leave Spamton alone when it was clear he wasn’t okay. Their tail twitched anxiously at their side as they listened to each gasp Spamton let out. They were becoming less frequent, calmer in a way. Until eventually, Spamton was all but silent. Swatch tilted their head to gaze at the salesman. The static had cleared from his glasses. The vibrant yellow and pink staring blankly into their own eyes. Spamton was frozen in place. Any tremors from earlier now gone. And Swatch got the feeling that the salesman was looking at them for the first time since they found him in the garbage can.
“Spamton?”
The salesman jolts, the blanket shifting off of his head and pooling onto his shoulders. He glances around the room with caution.
“SWATCH? WHAT AM I DOING IN YOUR [Home sweet home]?”
There’s a strain to Spamton’s voice, as if he’s trying to hide his panic. It would have been effective had Swatch not carried him all the way here in his panic induced trance.
“I brought you here. You were in a rather bad state when I found you, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone out there.”
Spamton lets out a strained laugh, tension rising in his shoulders as he continues to glance around the room.
“IT'S FINE [Big bird]! I WAS JUST REMIN1SCING ABOUT THE [[It burns! Ow! Stop! Help me! It burns!]]”
Swatch felt a shudder run down their spine at the way the static returned to Spamton’s eyes as he said that last part. They hadn’t been present when the salesman had been forcefully removed from the castle the first time. But his screams had echoed through the corridors for almost an hour. Spamton winced, glasses returning to normal, and he turned away from Swatch with a look of shame. Obviously, he hadn’t meant to say that. Swatch was kind enough to not bring up the glitches, yet at least. But they made a mental note for later. Spamton kept glancing at the door. Was he planning to run? Swatch shuffled the bulk of his body, blocking Spamton’s line of sight. The salesman was clearly shaken up, so why he had settled on an act of nonchalance confused them.
“What were you doing out there? I’m sure Prince Ralsei has somewhere nicer you can stay.”
This only served to make to Spamton’s mood worse. His head tilts down, glasses going dark, as he frowns.
“I DON’T ACCEPT [Free for a limited time only!].”
“What do you mean?”
“I’M A [Number one rated] SALESMAN. I DON’T NEED [Help me.]” Spamton’s head glitched sharply to the side, “ I’M FINE ON ON MY OWN.”
They didn’t understand. Was Spamton truly too ashamed to ask for help? Everyone in castle town had been received somewhere to stay, it was strange to think that Spamton had nowhere to go. That is, unless… did the lightners not know he was alive? Was Spamton hiding? Swatch felt their tail twitching at their side as their concern only grew. How long had Spamton been out there?
“… There's no shame in asking for help, Spamton.”
“YOU W0ULDN’T GET IT [Big bird]!!”
“Wouldn’t get what?”
Spamton paused, glasses going staticky once more as the salesman tilted his head further down. In fact, he had tilted it so far that Swatch could just see the beady black eyes that sat behind. Although they could not gauge what expression they found. The silence stretched on for a few uncomfortable seconds before Spamton choked out.
“…I sh0uld go.”
Swatch barely has time to get over the shock of hearing Spamton’s old voice before the salesman is sliding off the sofa and making his way towards the door. They burst up from the floor, speeding ahead to block Spamton’s exit. Their feathers puffed up, tail thrashing furiously behind them. Spamton couldn’t just leave, not when Swatch hadn’t even been able to crack the surface as to what was wrong with his old friend. They’d lost him once before, and they refused to lose him again. Now, with no basements or queens to keep them apart. Swatch was determined to set things right.
“Wait!”
“M0VE [Hot stuff].”
They choose to ignore the way their heart fluttered at that last glitch.
“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” They cross their arms over their chest, “Please, Spamton, let me take care of you. You're my friend, and it hurts to see you like this.”
Spamton refused to look at him. The salesman crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly staring at the ground. They took a breath, trying their best not to sigh at Spamton. They had to tread carefully. After all, they couldn’t force Spamton to stay in their house if he truly didn’t want to be there. That was just going to mess everything up further. And there wasn’t much more strain their friendship could take.
“At least tell me what's been going on. I’ve barely seen you since you left the mansion, and even then, you refused to talk to me.”
“YOU WEREN’T EXACTLY [[Hi, how are you?]] TO ME EITHER [Big bird]”
“I- I suppose that’s true.” Swatch frowned. “How about this, why don’t we make a deal?”
“WHAT K1ND OF [Great deals for limited time!!]?”
“Let’s start over, a fresh beginning. Like all those things from the mansion never happened.”
The salesman considered it for a moment, his head occasionally twitching to the side. A stress response, if their limited interactions with Spamton had taught them anything.
“…EVEN THE [Basement]?”
“Even the basement.”
Swatch crouched down, offering their hand to Spamton with a polite smile. Deals, everything was deals. Swatch despised them, but if they could get Spamton to stay, then they would tolerate it for now. Lecturing Spamton wouldn’t do anything good after all. There was a beat of silence before, slowly, Spamton reached out his hand. The pair gave a quick shake of their hands, sealing the deal. And with that, Swatch stretched up to their full height.
“Excellent. Now, is there anything you’d like to do right now?”
“I WOULDN’T KNOW WHERE TO [Start here!]”
The salesman looks away from Swatch once more, a look of shame passing over his face. And that wouldn’t do at all. Swatch considered their options. Sleep would probably be a good idea; it was late after all. But there was something a bit more urgent they should probably take care of first. Unless they wanted to continue smelling the stench of rotting food.
“Why not have a bath? I should be able to clean your clothes in the meantime.”
Spamton considers it for a moment. Fingers twitching against his sleeve. A few seconds pass before he hesitantly nods. Still not meeting Swatch’s gaze.
“Alright. I’ll go get everything set up. I’ll lend you some clothes, I believe I still have smaller clothes left over from the old colour café.
They began to walk up the stairs, gesturing for Spamton to follow them. Upon arriving at their bathroom, Swatch was met with a new problem. One they, admittedly, should have realised sooner. Everything in the room was Swatchling sized. And Spamton was… not Swatchling sized. Spamton seemed to have realised the same problem as he squeezed himself into the room. He looked up at Swatch with embarrassment.
“CAN YOU… HELP ME?” Spamton’s voice trailed off as he spoke, the salesman sounding more and more uncertain with each word.
The tub was far too big, that much was clear. And it felt insulting to offer for Spamton to use the sink instead. They felt a flutter in their chest at the fact that Spamton trusted them enough to ask for help.
“Of course.”
Swatch moved with an efficiency that had been ingrained into them after years of working for Queen. And soon, the tub was filled to an appropriate level, and Swatch was silently helping Spamton into the tub. Lowering him until the salesman could stand on a small ledge just above the water level. They turned around listening as Spamton stripped and chucked into a basket for Swatch to clean and repair. After making sure that everything was in reach of the salesman, they stretched back up to their full height.
“I’ll be right outside should you require any assistance.”
Swatch turned to leave, tail swaying gently beside them with muted anxiety. They didn’t want to leave, but they didn’t know why. Their feathers stood up ever so slightly. Before they could fully open the door, a glitchy voice called out.
“WAIT!”
They jumped, turning to face Spamton with a concerned frown. The salesman blushed, embarrassment clear on his face as he said.
“PLEASE [Don’t leave your seats, folks].”
The salesman flinched at the glitch, a distant look passing over his face before vanishing just as quickly as it appeared. Maybe Swatch was imagining it, but they swore they had heard that voice somewhere else before. Had it been on a TV show? They couldn’t recall.
“You’d like me to stay?”
Spamton nodded, almost guiltily
“WATER D0ESN’T [[Click here to agree]] WITH ME.”
They settled onto the stool beside the bathtub. Tilting their head in curiosity at the statement. From what they could recall, Spamton hadn’t cared when it was raining back in cyber world. Or at least it hadn’t bothered him enough to stop his constant attempts of breaking into the basement. But then again, Swatch couldn’t be sure they truly knew what Spamton had been going through these past few years. They had barely spoken to each other.
“In what way? If you don’t me asking.”
“IT JUST… MAKES ME [5 tips to remember your past] THINGS I D0N’T WANT TO. IT-”
Spamton’s glasses go dark and staticky. Expression settling into something far away. Swatch is immediately on alert. Their hand brushing against Spamton’s cheek with care. No reaction. They hadn’t meant to push this much. A displeased trill slips from their throat.
“Spamton? Spamton!”
The salesman jolts back with a small yelp. His head tilting from side to side, as if searching for something, before settling on Swatch. Those pitch black eyes staring into him with a look of confusion.
“WHAT?”
“You went away again.”
“OH…” Spamton’s sentence trails off, and for a moment, Swatch fears he’d drifted off again.
“You don’t have to explain it to me if it makes you uncomfortable. I was just curious after all.”
“THE [[Last opportunity!]] I HAD A [Soak in the tub] WAS WHEN [Queen] [[Kicked me to the curb!]]”
Swatch tilted their head, that didn’t explain anything. They tried to recall the day Spamton was kicked from the mansion. It had been calm for most of the day, and then there had been the… screaming. The acid. How had they forgotten about the acid already? Of course, Spamton would avoid submerging himself in anything after what happened that day.
“Oh… I’m… sorry, Spamton.”
“DON’T APOLIGISE [Big bird.]” Spamton kicked at the water, the water washing away a small layer of dirt as he did so, “YOU D1DN’T DO IT.”
The salesman wouldn’t look away from the water. Staring at it in apprehension of what was to come. So swatch did the only thing they knew how to. They offered help. Swatch stretched out one of their hand over the tub. At first, they had assumed Spamton would turn down the offer. It seemed too overbearing. But the look Spamton sent him as he closed his hands over their feathers told them it was the right thing to do. Spamton clung onto their hand. White fingers digging into their feathers as his breathing picked up. The salesman was staring at the water in terror, and Swatch felt their heart ache just a little more.
“It's alright, it's just water.” They said softly, brushing their free hand against Spamton’s back with care.
He swallowed, giving an exaggerated nod before trying to settle in the water once more. He barely made it an inch into the water before he jumped back up, grabbing onto Swatch’s hand once more. Those black beady eyes stared at the water with a terror that Swatch couldn’t even begin to comprehend. How long had it been since Spamton had something like this? How long had he avoided water out of terror of acid lakes tainted with the memories of losing everything he ever had?
“If this is too much, you can try again later. You shouldn’t push yourself too hard.”
“NO. I WANT TO BE [Squeaky clean]. I’M [Tired of everyday life?]- I MEAN I [Want a break from the ads?] $%!@. I’M. TIRED. OF. FEELING. LIKE. TH1S.”
With each glitch, Spamton seemed to draw further into himself. Growing more and more frustrated, Swatch still remembered how terrified he’d been when the glitching had started in the first place. They always wondered why Spamton had never gotten help; viruses aren’t uncommon after all, but the look of betrayal on Spamton’s face when it had happened the first time was something Swatch would never be able to unsee. Swatch ran their thumb across the trembling white hands that were still holding onto them for dear life.
“Alright, then let's just take our time. There's no rush, this is about making you feel better after all.”
It took some time, but eventually Spamton managed to lower himself into the water. The moment his body was fully submerged in the liquid, he seemed to relax. The salesman stretching out ball joints that had turned stiff from improper care. Swatch tried their best to keep a casual conversation going. Anything to distract Spamton from his current position. And while they tried their best not to stare. They couldn’t help but notice the way the water was getting darker by the moment. Perhaps a shower would have been a better idea. But there was no way they were going to get Spamton to take one now. Once it was clear Spamton wasn’t going to panic anymore, Swatch quickly left to place Spamton’s clothes into the washing machine. Giving Spamton’s glasses a swift wipe over as well. Anything to distract themselves from the fact that Spamton had chosen to stay. They still couldn’t quite believe it. He was here, safe. A relationship that they’d thought they lost forever had come back to them in the strangest of ways.
Glasses in hand, they made their way back to the bathroom. Spamton sat on the small ledge in the bath. The water slowly draining out of the tub. He sent Swatch a grateful look when they handed over his glasses as well as his clean clothes. And once Spamton was dressed, they helped him out of the tub. Guiding him back to the living room. Swatch made a mental note to themselves to pick up some more appropriately sized clothes for Spamton. While the ones he had would work as a temporary measure, there was no way he could make Spamton stay in them forever. The shirt, while small, still swallowed Spamton’s smaller form. Going down to the top of his knees. But Spamton didn’t seem to mind. The smaller darkner was much more fascinated with running his hand across the fabric. It was strange to see the salesman without the dirt. Now, with it gone, Swatch could see the wear and tear on his face. The circle above his cheek had faded into a lighter pink, and some of the white plastic of his face had tinted to a yellowish hue. Not to mention the small scratches and divets they could just about see. They could only hope that was the worst of the damage.
“[Big bird?]”
Spamton was staring at him in confusion, and for a moment, Swatch was sure they had a very similar expression. Ah, they hadn’t realised they had been staring. Spamton tilted his head at Swatch, although he didn’t seem bothered by the attention he was receiving.
“My apologies, I was just lost in thought, is all” They rubbed at the back of their neck, tail flicking awkwardly at their side.
Swatch was saved from the slightly awkward atmosphere they had created when Spamton let out a staticky noise that could have been considered a yawn. The salesman leaned into Swatch’s side. His eyelids drooping behind his glasses. They swung their legs up onto the sofa. Lifting Spamton from his spot against their side. It felt strange to just pick Spamton up, but the salesman didn’t seem to mind. He leaned into the hug like a man starved, rubbing his face against Swatch’s feathers without a care in the world. They smiled. Puffing out the feathers on their chest before lowering Spamton down onto it. Their arms settled over Spamton’s body, pinning him to their chest. A light purr rumbling out against their will. It felt strange to hold onto his friend like this, but at the same time, it felt right. As if this is how it was supposed to be between them. Spamton seemed to agree. The salesman nuzzled himself into Swatch’s chest with a glitchy sigh, practically asleep already. Letting out a yawn, Swatch relaxed into the sofa. Their hand rubbing small circles into Spamton’s back.
They hadn’t expected Spamton to come back into their life, but now with the salesman in their arms. Swatch found that they never wanted to let him go.