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It had been a long day. Tenna had another one of his outbursts, and usually they'd just spend all day trying to calm him down. Most of the time it would lead to Battat overworking themself, but that was basically nothing, they did that all the time.
But this time, Battat had caused his outburst. They'd been late to bring Tenna his coffee. They slipped up and started intermission an entire 10 seconds late, making Tenna look stupid. They accidentally tripped Elnina and made her cry, etc. Battat already felt bad for their blunders, but Tenna just had to add salt to the wound. He was frustrated with them. Battat was frustrated with themself.
Tenna had eventually shooed Mike away after he was done rambling, and while usually they'd refuse to leave and insist on making Tenna happy, they just couldn't take it. They couldn't even hold their tears until they were alone, much less in the comfort of their room. The visual of tears didn't show through the costume head, but they were sure Tenna had heard their horribly hidden whines and sniffles when they were leaving.
Tenna was disappointed in them. They chose to be Mike, they are meant to please Tenna. They chose this. They failed. They needed this costume off. The costume is too heavy. The costume is too hot. They can't take the costume off now, they can't be seen. Especially not like this. How long have they been walking? Were they even walking anymore? If they were, it felt in slow motion.
After what felt like forever, they finally found themself in the Mike room. Battat swiftly took the head off and threw it, not caring for damages. They bit the gloves off, throwing them in the direction of the head. They tug on the zipper, and it gets caught. Battat whines loudly in frustration, tugging angrily at the zipper, which doesn't do anything. They tug it up then down again, and it finally breaks loose and unzipped. They finally free themself from the costume, left sticky with sweat, which might just be worse.
Since nobody has approached them yet, their roommates are probably out doing their own things. They find themself unable to move, just standing in the middle of the room, with their limbs spread to avoid the feeling of their own skin. They need to feel something. They need something to distract themself.
They dig their claws into their arm, pressing and squeezing as hard as they can. They pull away, and see their skin irritated a dark green. That's barely anything. They need more.
They wobble over to their bed and reach underneath it, pulling out a small, light box. They take the lid off with shaky hands, and inside is their old blade. They hadn't used it in atleast a year, they'd been able to stay clean by distracting themself with Mike; becoming Mike and quitting their old pippins position in TV world gave them freedom, a new start if you will. Their old co-workers designated Battat as an easy target, due to their green color, their 'laziness', and pitiful height. And pippinses are brutal, they made Battats life a living hell.
The memories flooded back to them, only making them feel worse. They remembered the comments, the torment, how weak they felt, how much they deserved it. They couldn't even do their job right in a pippins position. They still couldn't do their job right, and they chose it this time. They're just good for nothing.
Slipping back into their old habits, they take the blade out of the box and press it to their thigh, There's old light green scars on their paper white skin, that oh so similar hate for themself represented in each streak of scar tissue.
They press down, drag the blade across their skin, and spread the wound open with their clawed fingers. Tiny beads of dark green blood form across the cut. The sight is so infuriatingly pathetic, they didn't cut deep enough.
They press down harder and swipe faster, the familiar sting felt so painfully good, seeing large blotches of blood form and roll down off thigh felt like euphoria.
They repeatedly press the blade into their skin and swipe, pleased with the sting and the blood that dripped onto the floor. They deserved the discipline, they deserved to have these marks of mistake on their body forever. They deserved to—
The door opened.
They are so done.
They quickly drop the blade back into the box and throw it under their bed without even putting the lid back on. Luckily, they were sitting against the side of their bed, only the top of their head could be seen by someone standing at the door. They yank a blanket off their bed and cover their bare legs, and grab their sketchbook off the nightstand to look like they were preoccupied with something other than obliterating their thigh before whoever came into the room.
"(*^ω^)ﾉ" Pluey chirped as he laid stomach down on Battats bed, and let his arms dangle off the edge to the right of Battat. They tried to respond, but their throat was blocked with tears, an embarrassing congested noise escaping them. They'd completely forgotten that they'd cried. They cleared their throat and sniffled, trying not to show any evidence of the previous meltdown.
"Ahem- hey, uh, Pluey." They tried to force themself to not slur their words, but they still sounded weak. As soon as the words escaped their mouth, they felt their eyes start to water again. They look away and open their sketchbook to a blank page.
"I was just about to sketch out some revamps I could make to improve how comfortable the costumes are." They excused, and continued. "Wanna go grab your sketchbook and join me?"
Pluey gestured over to Battats costume bits thrown about the room. "(° ^ °)?"
"The costume was really hot, from...Tenna, he kept uh... making me run around doing tasks for him. When I got into the room, I just wanted to cool off as soon as possible." Not completely a lie, the costume was really hot, but not the truthful cause.
"(｀ヘ´)?" Pluey pointed to the scratch marks from their claws on Battats arm, already almost certain Battat did it to themself. The marks had darkened more since they'd been inflicted.
"That. Uh, funny you ask. They don't hurt, I— you know how clumsy I am."
"( ｀ー´)" Pluey growled uncertainly, and pointed to Battat's blanket. "(-_-)?"
"The blanket? What about it?"
Pluey ripped the sketchbook and pencil from Battats hands, and scribbled something down. While he was writing, they noticed that their dark green blood had soaked through the thin lime green blanket, and it was very noticable. Crap.
The sketchbook was shoved back in their face, and at the top of the page was written 'You said the costume was hot, why blanket?" To this, they could respond with something embarrassing but believeable, or some bland 'I just wanted to'.
"I don't have pants on." They murmured swiftly, this excuse was perfect for the situation, and also true. Still embarrassing though.
"(・_・)" Pluey took the sketchbook back and scribbled 'oh idc lol'.
"W- well I do! I care!" Battat blurted, Pluey had seen them in just boxers before, but they dont think he ever noticed their scars.
Pluey went uneasily silent, frozen.
"Σ(; ﾟДﾟ)" He yelped in realization, pointing at the bloodstained spot on the blanket. Battat's stomach immidiately dropped. He knew. Pluey knew.
"UH! T- thAT's-" Their voice cracked as tears pricked at their eyes. "Thats just— thats just water!" They excused, hoping their green blood just made the blanket look damp. Pluey wasn't having it, and reached for the corner of the blanket, where Battat immidiately swatted his hand away.
"No pants on, remembEr!?" Their voice cracked again, Pluey shoved Battats hand off his wrist and tore the blanket from their grasp, staring in horror at the dark green gashes on their thigh, still bleeding plenty.
"(;ﾟﾛﾟ)..."
"...I didn't mean to." Battat murmured. Their stomach swirled with anxious nausea, and they wished they could stop existing. Pluey stood up from the bed without a word.
"Please don't get Jongler! This can stay between us, they don't need to know!" Battat begged, and stood up to chase after Pluey. Unfortunately by the time Battat got to him, he was already spitting notes into his headset, trying his best to communicate 'emergency' through jazz.
"Everything is fine!" Battat wailed, hoping Jongler would believe them more than Pluey. If anything, it just make the message of 'emergency' clearer. Pluey squawked loudly in denial after they spoke.
"I's on my way." Jongler said through the headset, and Pluey set it down.
"PLUEY!!" They cried. Why wouldn't he just leave them alone, they can care for their own wounds. They didn't wanna drag Jongler into this, they didn't want Jongler to have to see how much of a mess they were, they didn't wanna be babied, much less by two people bigger than them.
"Why would you... Jongler didn't have to be brought into this!" Their voice shook, and Pluey didn't seem to listen to anything they said.
"( •´ヘ`•)" Pluey went over to his nightstand, grabbed a tissue box, and went back over to Battat. He crouched down to pat their leg with a tissue, but they moved away. He put a hand on their shoulder comfortingly, and tried again. Battat let him dab at the blood that had rolled down their leg, but refused to let him touch the actual wounds. It felt weird being this close to him, being touched so gently by him, but they could tolerate it.
By the time about half of the wounds had already stopped bleeding, Jongler burst into the room and slithered over to Pluey.
"What hap—" Jonger cut themself off as soon as they processed the scene of Pluey cleaning blood off of Battat's leg while they sat on the floor with their hands over their face.
"Did they...do dat?" They asked, as if they couldn't believe it.
"( ｀Д´)/" Pluey yelled, irritated by the stupid question. Jongler went silent, shamelessly staring at their wounds
"...Ya wanna tell me what happened, Batts?" They asked, their voice was so calm and soothing it made Battat wanna tell them everything at once, if only they could string words together properly.
"I- I don't know." They choked out as tears pricked at their eyes again, and they clawed at their arm in attempt to ground themself.
"Aye, aye, don't do dat, its okay." Jongler brushed their massive hand against Battats arm, and they just held their wrist tightly instead of scratching.
"Dats better.." They moved their other hand to rub Battats back, which provided decent comfort. The anxious pain in their stomach calmed significantly, and breathing became a little easier.
"I's not mad at youse, Batts. I ova'heard a bit a' Tenna's hollerin', and I don't thinks it's ya fault. He's just dramatic, you know how he is." Jongler spoke quietly to them, hoping their comfort was good enough to calm them down. Their comfort was more than good enough to calm Battat.
"But I messed up, he should be mad at me." Battat sniffled, covering their face with their hands and finally letting themself cry without trying to hold it in. Ugly sobs left their lips as Jongler instructed Pluey something Battat didn't hear, and he quickly dashed off to the bathroom.
"He's just dramatic, youse did fine. Erryone makes mistakes, and, I's understand why you feels dat way. Jongler said apologetically.
"You do..?" Battat looked up at them, vision slightly blurry from crying.
"Yeah, I er.. used to feel dat way too." Jongler hesitates, trying not to make this about themself.
"How so?" Battat wiped their tears that were still flowing, trying to redirect their attention to Jongler.
"Are you sur—" Battat cut them off.
"I insist." Battat looked back down at the floor, subconciously leaning into Jonglers hand.
"Aight... When I's still worked inna zapper position, I wasn't very good at it. Too soft to be a guard." Jongler spoke in a hushed tone, sitting down on the floor next to Battat.
"I wasn't very good in a pippins position either." Battat murmured, ashamed, but comforted that they could relate. Pluey returned from the bathroom with a first aid kit, and set it down on the floor next to Battat.
"Hehe, guess we's got that in common." Jongler said gleefully, and rest their hand on Battats shoulder.
"Don't you think a medkit is a bit much?" Battat glanced at the small bag of medical supplies.
"( ･`з･)" Pluey huffed, irritated at how they wouldn't take the situation seriously.
"Okay, okay.." Battat sighed. They didn't want pity, they wanted to clean the wounds themself, but they knew Pluey would refuse to let them. Pluey loved helping, unfortunate for Battat because they loved being independent.
The first aid kit barely had anything, just some cotton balls, bandaids, and medical tape. Pluey sighed at the lack of supplies, and begun to work with what he had. He grabbed a half full water bottle from his nightstand nearby, dampened a cotton ball, and begun cleaning dried blood that had run down their leg. Battat felt guilty even though Pluey wanted to do this, and they didn't wanna think about it, so they continued the conversation with Jongler.
"I honestly think I overreacted, thi—"
"Nonsense! Youse had a bad time, and youse needed to cope. Maybe not in a very healthy way, but..." They trailed off, "Yeah."
"It wasn't even that bad, I'm just weak." Jongler pressed a finger to Battats lips.
"No. Youse is valid, no matta' the cause."
"( -`ω -´)" Pluey nodded in agreement, and went back to cleaning their leg. Battat squinted at Jonglers finger in their face, and licked it, causing them to jerk away.
"Batts!" Jongler snorted, vigorously wiping their finger on Battats tank-top. Battat laughed and swatted at Jonglers hand, just happy to have their attention on something other than their intentional injuries.
Pluey carefully cleans around the spot that they'd injured, cautious to not touch the cuts or cause Battat more pain. He looked up at Battat, and they nodded in consent. Pluey gently dabbed at the cuts with the damp cotton ball, and Battat didn't even flinch.
"What the.."
"What?"
"The way Plues is touchin' ya' cuts and youse don't care at all! No reaction!" They exclaimed in disbelief, gesturing to Pluey.
"Its a cotton ball, not sandpaper." Battat said simply, watching as Pluey struggled to keep their thigh clean when few of the cuts would reform beads of blood immidiately after the previous ones were wiped away. They felt bad for Pluey, but also felt a weird comfort, seeing all their mental stress be expressed in physical form. Their stress was real.
"Duh! It's just seems strange, wouldn't it be like, ya'know, sensitive?" Jongler asks, still in a bit of shock. Honestly it hurt really bad to Battat, but they didn't wanna worry their friends more than they already have.
"It doesn't really hurt." They murmur, trying their hardest not to show any physical reaction to the sting of Pluey's work. Jongler gives a look of concern, even with their lack of facial features, and they place their hand over Battat's, that has been subconsciously gripping tightly at the edge of their tank-top. Battat knew the message that Jongler got, Battat knew defending would do nothing, even if Jongler was kinda slow.
None of the three darkners spoke for a minute. Pluey had neatly folded a few tissues to cover the area of what still bled, and had started using medical tape to keep the tissues in place. Battat watched, they'd never had their cuts treated with so much care, not even by themself. They felt numb, but in a good way. If their roommates really cared enough to be there for them during this, maybe Battat really is worth something.
"I love you two." They sighed, before realizing what they'd said and immidiately tensing, staring intensely anywhere but at their roommates. Pluey looked up at them in astonishment, before he beamed with joy and pulled them to his chest, purring loudly.
"(≧ω≦ )" Pluey chirped, as if he'd been waiting to hear them say that for decades.
"Yeah, platonically." They murmured into Pluey's chest, and pushed away from his embrace. He kept one hand on their back, which was fine.
"We loves ya back, Batts." Jongler said bashfully, fidgeting with their scarf.
"( ^ω^)" Pluey nodded, still beaming.
"You's gonna do dat again?" Jongler asked after a bit of silence, turning to look at Battat. They didn't respond, giving Jongler a confused look, unsure what 'dat' refers to.
"The uh, cuttin' thing." They vertified, and Battat suddenly felt nervous again. They didn't trust themself to never do it again, because no matter what, it would happen again eventually. Just because their roommates love them, doesn't mean they love themself.
"Of course not, not with such good roommates like you two." They lied, maybe if they said it enough it'd be true. They would absolutely relapse again one day, but thats not something they wanna worry about right now.
"Good." Jongler said, "And if you's ever feel like it, let one of us know." They continued, trying too hard to be helpful. Battat would absolutely not be letting one of them know about about their urges before they caused harm, but they played along to prevent worry.
"I will, thanks." Battat murmurs, leaning into Pluey's hand on their back. He looked at them and pat his thigh, making an offer. Battat nodded, and without hesitation, Pluey had pulled them onto his lap.
"We's here for ya'." Jongler said, and gave Pluey an unidentifiable look. Battat was about to question them, before they felt a small kiss planted on the top of their head. Battat tensed and their face warmed, they didn't even know how to feel.
"Figured Plue's should just show ya' he loves ya', since he can't say really say it." Jongler said, before continuing. "Wish I's could kiss ya' too, don't got a mouth though." They said, way too casually. Battat opened their mouth, closed it, cleared their throat, opened their mouth again.
"P- Pluey— he— that wasn't a platonic gesture!" They stammered, face growing greener by the second. "You two are my friends." They groaned.
"Friends can kiss." Jongler said simply.
"(; ^ω^)" Pluey nodded, pulling Battat closer to his chest and resting his head atop theirs. Battat didn't know how to feel about all of this, they'd gotten so much affection in a short period of time. Jongler soothed Battat while Pluey cleaned up the mess they made, and then they both move on from the situation instead of walking on eggshells around them, or shoving pity down their throat. That in itself was enough to make Battat feel things, but all this?
"Yeah, friends like you can kiss, you've been friends for years. Jon, I only met you because Pluey snuck you into my room!"
"Mike's room." Jongler corrected.
"And Mike is WHERE? Whoever he is, he doesn't care for this room, he's never here!" Battat rambled on, blush fading now that there was a new subject.
A paper note appeared infront of Battat, reading 'what if mike is here, but because he can shapeshift, we dont know where or what he is?'
"Lemme see dat." Jongler took the note Pluey had dangled in Battats face.
"If Mike was in this room, I'm sure I would've noticed by now." Battat said, though suspiciously eyeing different objects in the room.
"Enough 'bout Mike!" They crumpled the note and flicked it at Pluey's head, earning a quiet yelp from him. "Batts, youse okay wit' bein' smooched?"
"...on occasion." Battat murmured, flustered again even at the thought of being kissed.
"Whats da occasion?" Jongler asked, leaning closer.
"Just ask?! I don't know!" They shoved Jongler away, not hard enough to hurt them. Battat probably couldn't hurt them even if they tried.
"Why do you care anyways? It's not like you're able to kiss." Battat said, leaning back against Pluey's chest and crossing one leg over the other.
"Uh," Jongler picked at a loose thread on their scarf. "For Plues."
"Why do you gotta get involved though? Pluey can ask me about this himself."
"I's just curious...and I like seein' kissin'.." They murmured, and Battat felt themself turn a little greener.
"Yeah, of course you do." They stood from Pluey's lap and walked towards the Mike board, to escape the conversation.
"Whats dat s'posed to mean??"
Battat didn't respond, back facing Pluey and Jongler. They skimmed the papers on the corkboard, trying to find some incomplete information they could overthink about, instead of thinking about their friends.
"Batt's, youse sure you wanna work on dis? Don't ya think sleep is kinda important?" Jongler tried, it was admittedly very late, and they had been putting in alot of effort to get Battat to sleep normally for the past month or so.
"Mhm. Thinking about what Pluey wrote earlier." Battat murmured, hoping tonight wouldn't be a night that Jongler begs them to go to sleep. Instead, Jongler did something similar, but they didn't beg. They placed their hands on Battats waist, and lifted them up with ease. Battat refused to admit defeat, if Jongler knew how much they hated this, they would only use it against them.
"Youse real light." Jongler commented.
"Thanks." Battat deadpanned.
"Youse don't like this, do you?" They took note of Battat kicking their legs subtly, and pushing away from Jonglers grasp.
"I'm gonna bite you if you dont put me down." Battat threatened, trying to sound intimidating.
"Youse wouldn't. C'mon, bedtime." They moved to hold Battat to their chest, and slithered over to Battat's bed. Their blanket was still on the floor, with a slightly damp, green bloodstain on it. Jongler set them down in bed and picked up the blanket, passing it to Pluey.
Battat laid down on their bed, allowing themself a break. For the first time in awhile they actually wanted to sleep, because their eyes stung from crying. Jongler placed a Pluey scented blanket with a cat pattern on it over Battat.
"Plue's gonna wash ya' blanket, so youse gonna use his t'night, if dats okay."
"Mhm.." Battat hummed groggily.
"G'night."