Work Text:
Goob — Blankets
“I want to be your pillow.”
Everything ached. The wounds brought pain with each and every step, his head pounded and throbbed from all motions he performed. But that one sentence stuck with him, an ounce of motivation to keep pushing forward.
The craft never knew what happened when the elevator shut after the last machine popped. What any toon outside during that time experienced was a complete and total mystery, since it had never been done before. Unfortunately, he was the first to have to bear witness to it.
He remembers the screaming of all other members in the run, how his sister’s voice was louder than the rest. He remembers the shocked, petrified looks on their faces when the door came crashing down. He remembers the anxiety that started building up immediately, suffocating thoughts that it was the end began pushing into his mind.
The craft was forced to spend an ungodly amount of time hiding away, making sure that he wasn’t seen and running when he was. The twisteds on the floor remained the same, but they chased longer, they moved faster, and they were relentless as ever.
The two medkits that he purchased the floor before were something that Goob was so, so grateful to have. There was no shot of survival if otherwise. If there even was one at all. He didn’t have any time to sleep, every second was valuable in a place like this, and one mishap could get you killed.
But he still pushed onwards, because he made a promise. Or, well, not exactly a promise, but it was one to him.
”I want to be your pillow.”
He really did mean it.
That’s why he had to keep going, in hopes that one day he would eventually be able to be the shoulder that the crustacean could lean on. To be whom he could hold onto when everything else feels too far away.
Running low on what he had left, Goob attempted to turn the machines again. The green light that used to bring him joy now only brought a pang of dread.
Still though, he remained as positive as possible. Only seeing the worst wouldn’t help him at all. Plus, maybe if he could remain positive, then everybody else could too!
Yeah, that sounded right! So he kept a smile on his face, and continued to press on with the ‘adventure’ he got trapped in. He wandered around the floor, with the same exact walls and the same markings. From time to time, he observed the twisteds, watching what they did and narrating it to himself like one of those nature documentaries he saw on the lounge TV.
…
Goob missed the lounge, the couch, the carpet, the television…
No.
He didn’t miss any of that, those were the last things on his mind. The thing he truly missed was the yells that echoed down the halls from the lounge. The way that the cushions on the couch sunk when there was a combined weight pressed on it. The amount of crayons that would be lost in the carpet and the scolding that came because of it. The complaints that followed with each channel that came on without fail.
What he really missed was Shrimpo.
He hoped that the smaller was okay. The crustacean was probably going to be fine. After all, he left a blanket and a pillow in his own room, and the other toon had a key!
Goob was certain that the marine toon would go up and check it for himself. Being patient wasn’t something he was quite good at, after all. He giggled a little to himself at the memory of all the complaints about himself being late. Everytime, Shrimpo would threaten the next occurrence of it, he’d just walk out and ditch. And yet he always kept waiting tardiness after tardiness.
On Goob’s bed would be the pillow, sitting upright comfortably, and the blanket that was laid out over the sheet, granting a full display of the design. Both sources of comfort were decorated to match the shrimp’s aesthetic—punk rockish and aquatic. Scraps helped him a bunch with the creation of the blanket, but the pillow was done all by himself at the central tree in the lobby when he and Shrimpo had met up once.
He really hoped that they could chat once again. He had gotten so used to the yelling at the constant silence was nerve wracking. It just didn’t feel right, didn’t feel normal at all. There were many things that didn’t feel normal—the lack of conversation with other toons, the absence of soft hits on his body, the dearth of warmth in his hands, the pain that surged through his body. Another thing that wasn’t normal was the whirring from the elevator door.
Perking up, he glanced in its direction for only a moment before being hit with a revelation.
It was opening.
Ignoring everything in his body that told him not to, Goob sprang up and bolted for the lift. The fluff paid no mind to the hostiles he attracted, he just needed to get out. Adrenaline flowed through his veins, kept his legs pumping and moving.
Abandoned hiding spaces, torn down barricades, knocked over furniture—all was passed by in a flash. He needed to get over as soon as possible. That was the thought that took over every other one at the moment.
He saw the elevator lights flooding the darkened atmosphere with the promise of salvation, a group of toons peering out nervously. He didn’t care who they were, he sprinted for them showing no signs of stopping.
Goob lunged into the tiled platform, grabbing all that was inside into a large bear hug as he shone a bright smile despite everything. Nobody made an effort to get out, they all just returned the embrace. And that was enough.
༻✲✽✲༺
The craft paid no mind to the numerous toons voicing their concerns. He answered with a simple, “I’m fine!” to each and every question that came his way. He really was fine—he was saved, after all, and that’s far more than anything he could ask for.
No, scratch that. There was something that he needed to know. However long he had spent out of contact with anybody else was too long for any toon close to him to not be worried.
“H-how’s Shrimpo?” Goob suppressed his instinctive wince when seeing the incredulous stare he received from Sprout.
“I’m literally bandaging wounds on your body and that’s what you find yourself worried about?” As if to further emphasize his point, he held up the roll he was using and shook it slightly, before returning to his task.
“Well, yeah!” The fluffy toon overlooked the current state he was in, only really interested in hearing about the crustacean.
“Look, let me focus on working here, and then I’ll get back to you on that, alright?”
“Why can’t you just tell me now?” His head cocked slightly, watching as Sprout tried and failed to come up with a proper excuse.
Sighing, the strawberry closed his eyes in mild exasperation. “Hasn’t come out of his room at all since you’ve been gone. I think. I don’t pay much attention to him.”
He cut the length of bandage that he unrolled from the spool, and finished patching up Goob as best he could with the given supplies. Sprout pushed the medkit off to the side, tossing whatever he removed back into it, then directed his focus back to the injured toon.
“Goob, we gotta pay more attention to you right now. Toonssake, it’s a miracle that you’re even able to talk! You need to rest, otherwise the toll on…”
The rest of the words fell on deaf ears. The elevator stopped seeming like the best place to be, it shifted away from a paradise for the lost. He needed to get out, needed to find the shrimp. His hand came to his mouth, Goob instinctively starting to chew on a finger with his lips.
Had Shrimpo not checked his room?
The thought was sickening to him, something he didn’t want on his mind, but he couldn’t rule it out.
Was the other truly alright?
Teeth started to grind each other, his leg began bobbing up and down uncontrollably. Even when Sprout told him to refrain from moving he couldn’t stop his fidgets. How is it that he could be so positive when face to face with death, yet this was breaking that stature?
The moment he heard the lift’s entrance begin to groan, he shot up and ran into the metal. The craft knew that it would do nothing to elevate the wall faster, but he didn’t care. Not at all.
“W-woah, hey! I just said you need to expend little to no energy!” Sprout got up from his sitting position, walking over to Goob with a concerned expression.
“Open open open, c’mon c’mon..!”
“Goob, hey?!”
By now the other toons were experiencing the same sense of puzzlement, slowly approaching him too. All their inputs were unheard of too, he couldn’t discern any of their voices, they all blended into one distorted, static sound.
“Are you okay?” “Do try to remain calm.” “Goob, hey, focus on me..!”
Words started to break apart, sentences became mouthed nothings in his mind.
“S t do n Go .” “W t’s go g on?” “ ob? He o?”
He couldn’t hear anything anymore.
“ ?” “ !” “ …”
“GOOB?!”
The moment the elevator door opened, even just slightly, the craft ducked under the rising wall and sprinted away. Nothing hurt anymore, only the ache he felt inside of his chest. He wanted—no, he *needed* to see Shrimpo. He ignored the frantic yelling behind him and continued onwards, heading for the normal, non-operation elevators, punching in the button and ascending to the toon rooms. The craft hoped that the others would forgive him, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he left this matter undealt with.
He burst out of the lift, running straight for the crustacean’s room.
Please… please be okay.
The fluff went for the doorknob immediately, finding it locked, which was quite expected. His hands rummaged through his fur tuft, reaching for the special little spot where he kept the other key to Shrimpo’s room. Goob considered knocking first to be respectful, but was fairly certain that the only thing he’d receive would be either radio silence or muffled yelling.
The thought of the latter option almost made him do it.
Slowly, he inserted the key into the knob, rotating it until he heard the familiar click. It was funny—Shrimpo’s lock always had a distinct sound when it was unlocked. The cue was deeper, more strained than the other rooms, likely because of the amount of adjustments it over went. He forgot how often he visited this room, and didn’t realize how much he missed it.
The craft gently opened the door, immediately taking note of how darkness consumed everything, the only light being the one from the hallway. Goob didn’t hear any noises inside, and couldn’t make out any shapes in the pitch black.
“Hello..?” He called out softly into the abyss, waiting for but not receiving a response.
The craft took a step in, unease creeping up on his mind at the tense atmosphere inside. He attempted to push that out of his mind, trying to instead focus on positive thoughts. It could be that the darkness wasn’t exactly the best environment for cheeriness. Maybe he just needed to turn on the lights?
Hand moving to where he remembered the light switch to be, surprise and worry clouded his brain. Why was it completely busted..?
“Shrimpo..?”
Silence.
Goob took another step forward, stumbling over a piece of wood lying around on the floor. Running his foot over the wood, he racked his mind for the memory of the familiar texture. It took a moment for him to end up letting it go dismissed, gently nudging it off to the side. He navigated over to a nearby lamp he was able to spot as his eyes adjusted. Turning it on, the dim light made the room just a bit brighter.
Unable to think of any other potential spots for the crustacean to be, Goob paced over to the bed, letting his uninjured hand trace over the smooth surface of what he recalled to be dark red sheets. He had once tried to sleep in Shrimpo’s bed when he was sick, the shorter having carried him over and onto the place of rest. Back then, there was a different texture to the blankets, and he was unable to properly rest due to the itchy sort of feel not quite agreeing with his own. The next time he came over, the scratchy sheets had been replaced with a different kind.
The short reminiscence was interrupted when Goob noticed the slight rising and falling coming from under the covers.
Ah, there he was!
The lump started shuffling, moving around slightly as if there was a signal to wake up upon his arrival. Gazing fondly, he waited for the peak of a tail to pop out. Reaching over, he brought a hand over to pat it, giggling gently when it flicked. The motion was promptly followed by the rest of the crustacean, eyes wide and red marks by the infraorbital area noticeable even in the dim lighting. In his arms was a pillow, one that appeared to be extremely wet.
It didn’t take Rodger’s observation skills to understand what happened. The optimistic front that the craft was putting on fell apart completely at the sight of the other started to shiver violently.
“Shri—“
“What the fuck.”
He slowly retracted his hand from near the shrimp, exercising caution. Having been around the hotheaded toon long enough, he knew what would happen if he startled him. Well, more than he already has.
“Shrimpo..?”
Goob saw droplets of water forming at the corners of the shorter’s eyes, the trembling only worsened. He watched in sorrow as the grip around the pillow tightened.
He tried to extend his hand to grasp the other’s arms, but it was slapped away hard. Goob didn’t even register the pain in his manus. There was only a sting that hit deep in his chest.
“Y-you’re GONE..!”
The throb in his heart only grew stronger, overpowering anything else that he was feeling. The craft tried again to reach out for the marine toon only to be swatted again, the force having been diminished from last time.
“YOU’RE GONE!” The room became filled with Shrimpo’s screams, his yells left to echo in the air.
On most occasions, Goob would enjoy the sound, knowing they were there just to be. This time, the only thing he heard in it was despair. By now, tears were freely flowing, no effort made to stop them. He had never seen this side of Shrimpo.
It made his own tears start to come.
“Shrimpo, plea—“
“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!”
He had to get to him.
“I’M HERE! PLEASE..!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!”
The craft lunged forward and captured the crustacean in his clutches. The screaming hurt his ears. The fists hitting his sides hurt his body. His own tears started to hurt his eyes.
But there were things that hurt so, so much more.
The absence of the other had hurt his soul.
The lack of contact had destroyed his spirit.
The realization that Shrimpo had been hurting had torn his heart into shreds.
And so he held on. He held on and never let go. He never stopped screaming “I’m here” back to everything the other screamed first. He never ceased to squeeze harder when he felt the other coming loose. He never pulled away when Shrimpo buried his face in his neck tuft. He never got bothered by the tears that dampened it completely.
Not once did he ever stop being his pillow.
༻✲✽✲༺
“It’s really you..?”
The voice was so frail, so fragile, as if it would send him away if it were spoken louder. That only made Goob hug harder.
“I promise, it’s me.”
The craft brought an arm off of the other’s body, bringing his hand to wipe away a stray tear on the shorter’s face. His heart fluttered at how he leaned into the touch.
“I hated being without you.” Shrimpo’s voice teetered on the edge of silence, their combined breathing almost louder than his words.
“You’re not alone in that.” The fluffy toon smiled down at the other. “And you’re not alone anymore.”
It had been longer than a while since he had come in. Neither of them could properly calm down, anguish blending together as they shared the pain of almost losing one another. The blankets were soaked with tears, tears that had spent crying in each other’s arms. All their walls had fallen, no happy go lucky front, no outbursts of rage—only their pure, raw emotions.
As of now, the smaller was lying atop the larger toon, comfortably splayed out in the bed. The shuddering stopped just a few moments ago, when the craft’s warm embrace finally registered as the promise that he was there.
“Don’t let that fucking happen ever again. Or I’ll hate you forever.”
Despite the language, Goob knew that there was no venom present in those words.
“You can count on your pillow!”
He felt the marine toon shift above him, watching as shrimp positioned his head to look him in the eyes. Grumbling under his breath, he maintained eye contact as his brow slightly furrowed. “Who’s going to be your pillow when you need one?”
Goob hesitated for a split moment, caught off guard by the question. He never thought about needing one himself.
“Pfft—I don’t need a pillow, cause I have you!”
“…I HATE TAKING OTHER PEOPLE’S IDEAS!”
“It’s not taking, silly!”
“…”
“Shrimpo?”
“A blanket.”
Goob blinked, tilting his head slightly to the other as a gesture to explain. His curiosity only grew more when Shrimpo brought the sheets up and over to cover them both, a feeling of warmth on the outside added to the warmth he felt inside.
“Every now and then, you need something to embrace you, right?” The crustacean took the silence as incentive to continue, “I don’t know what the fuck went down with you but I do know that you’re here and I want you to stay here.
“So let me be that something…”
No words formed in the craft’s head, he couldn’t think of anything to say, of anything to tell the shorter. So he just squeezed a little bit harder.
“I want to choose the opposite of hate, cause what’s a pillow without a blanket?”
Goob caught onto the way that his face darkened. He could already feel the tears forming at the edges of his eyes again. This time though, he welcomed it.
“What’s a me, without a you?”
The craft squealed involuntarily, his heart thumping against this chest as his cables wrapped circles around the other toon.
Scoffing and breaking eye contact, the marine toon carried on, “If you ever need a sense of security…
“…a feeling of comfort…
“…or just something to hold you…
“…I’ll be there.”
He didn’t know how to react—his mouth was dry and no responses came. So he opted for the first thing that came to mind as soon as it came.
He lifted himself up from the lying position, bringing his head over to the other’s frontal region, and let his lips rest for just a moment before pulling away. Shrimpo wrapped his own arms around the fluff’s body, letting his face sink into the neck tuft to hide his reaction. Even that wasn’t enough to cover the blush that painted his face.
“…Do you want another one?”
“…I HATE YOU!!”
“Hehehe~” Goob embraced him just a little harder,
“I love you too.”