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“Have you ever been recovered before?”
The question was sudden, breaking the heavy but comfortable silence that hung over them.
Treasure Chest lifted his head from where he had been dozing against Bottle’s chest, his arms lazily wrapped around her as he looked up at the other. She didn’t meet his eyes, instead pulling him closer again as the arm that wasn’t holding him traced along his side, over a huge cut. The wood was splintered and warped there, unable to heal properly on multiple accounts of water damage as well as burn marks that were visible at the wound's edges.
He had already known that it would leave an ugly scar, had known it since the day Chainsaw had chased him down to give it to him. That didn’t mean he didn’t wince when he was reminded of its existence, the wood still delicate. At his pained noise Bottle pulled her hand away, and the smaller could almost feel the panic and regret from where he was pressed against her. He was kind of glad she couldn’t see the claw marks on his back at the moment.
Instead he moved to cover her hand with his own, gently holding it. He hummed, thinking before answering her question.
“No, I don’t think so.” His voice was quiet, soft. Bottle could feel his warm breathing fog her up. She couldn’t bring herself to complain.
She’d never really seen them before, never bothered to look, but now that they were so close it was impossible to miss. Treasure Chest was absolutely covered in scars, his wood warped and off colour in so so many places. It made her heart hurt, she didn’t like the idea of her friend in pain.
“I’m sorry.” “Hey, it’s okay. I’m very sturdy, so I’m used to it.”
He pulled back again, and she let him this time as he moved their hands so he could hold her cheek. She could barely look him in the eyes. There was just… a lot of adoration. A lot of trust. But also, and that was what Bottle’s brain focused on the most, a huge dent next to his left eye. God, Chainsaw had hit him with a sledge hammer today. What justification did she ever have to be angry with him?
“No, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry-” The burnt wood was her fault, wasn’t it? When she chased him and Chainsaw, almost blew them up. He could’ve caught on fire and burnt and then- Then he would’ve died, and his first ever death would’ve been her fault.
“Nonono, you don’t have to apologize-” “But I messed up,” Bottle whisper-yelled, tears threatening to escape her eyes, staining her. “I messed up so badly.” "No, if anything I should be the one apologizing. I messed up, I didn’t treat you fairly-” “And I didn’t treat you fairly.” She let go of his hand to grab him by his sides, though she was careful with his wound. They were looking at each other now, unspilled tears and regrets in both their eyes. Treasure Chest continued eventually. “So we didn’t treat each other fairly,” he reached up, gently wiping an escaped tear from her cheek, “how about we call it even?”
There was another scar she now had a clear view of, going from the back of his head by his left hinge all the way to his top. This one she already knew, remembered it so clearly as Treasure Chest had collapsed shortly after the end of that stupid bag hunting challenge, his wood basically torn in half. He never told anyone what had happened, and no one ever asked, but the reason had been clear for how long he had been alone in that damn warehouse. Bottle had barely known him back then, barely spared him a second thought when it happened. How foolish she had been, it felt cruel now.
She shouldn’t give in, shouldn’t call it even at all, but the glass container also knew that neither of them would ever back down.
So instead she pulled Treasure Chest back into her embrace. “Sure, let’s call it even.”
Silence lapsed over them again as they both just basked in each other's presence. It was when Bottle was half asleep, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the smaller’s wood, when he spoke up again.
“What’s it like being recovered?”
She hummed, not stopping her taping. What was recovery like… “Well first of all, dying hurts. Obviously.” There was humor in her voice, and to her delight Treasure Chest snickered in response. “Recovery itself just feels numb I guess, there are always a few seconds after where I can’t even feel the grass under me. The worst part is the aftershocks though.” “Aftershocks?” They never lasted long, but that didn’t make them any less uncomfortable. She still remembered the short moment of phantom flames licking up her sides after she had been recovered today, the smell of smoke lingering in clear air.
“Yeah, just a few seconds before your body understands what’s happening. They're mostly just annoying.” Treasure Chest too now ran his hand down her side, fingers ghosting over cracks that no longer were. “I think you kinda get used to it the more often you die, but I haven’t reached that point yet. I’d tell you to ask Cup, but…” “I’ll ask him if I ever get the chance,” he continued, for once unbothered by the idea of the competition. “Thank you.”
She only snuggled closer in response. Silence settled back into its place, and through the window the taller could see the sun slowly set. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
It was only when Bottle could hear the sound of soft snores, the feeling of air being gently blown across her surface as Treasure Chest peacefully slept, that she spoke again.
“I want you to be okay, you know?” Her voice was a quiet whisper. “I want us both to be okay. If that means disappointing a few others, I think I’m fine with that.” Sleep was tugging at her eyelids as she curled further around her buddy, a smile on her face as she pressed her lips to his temple. Her next few words were barely even a mumble. “And if we fail, I still want to stay with you. I hope you do too…”
And with that, Bottle fell asleep.