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Pencil stepped down her apartment's stairs, hauling the crinkling bag of laundry alongside. The dimly lit stairwell seemed to echo her footsteps into the oblivion.
Was she even into girls?
The laundry room was on the first floor, to the right, then straight down the hallway. That's all. Pencil had gone down every Sunday, the tumbling of the washing machine representing the start of a new week. Fresh clothes, warm fabric.
Fluorescent lights pierced her eyes as she stepped in, for the first time in a month.
She lied, the first time. She hadn't been going every week. Her schedule was crumpling beneath her feet, and even her room was a horrific mess.
All because of a girl who already forgot Pencil existed.
Probably, at least.
Pencil hauled her bag to the washing machine, shoving a few quarters into the coin slot. The sooner this is over, the better. All Pencil wanted to do was get back into the cave of her room- To continue sulking in her sheets.
The door chimed again- Meaning there was another person entering.
"Pencil?"
Golfball carried her basket to the machine beside Pencil's, giving her a small smile.
"We haven't seen each other in quite a bit. How are you? You look like a mess."
And, as if nothing happened- Pencil fell in love with her all over again.
"That's one way to greet someone. I'm doing okay, and I'm not wearing makeup. You?"
"Apologies. I'm just fine."
"..."
"..."
Maybe now was the time to ask.
"Golfball, are you into girls?.."
But, her voice was too quiet, as the rumbling of laundry overcame her mumbles.
Golfball spoke up.
"Tennisball is waiting for me, apparently. My phone keeps on buzzing with texts from him."
"Tennisball? Wow, didn't know he was clingy. Are you two dating or what?"
Golfball blushed, shovelling her clothes into the mouth of the machinery.
"Eh.. I mean.."
Pencil's heart was stabbed by a knife- Then, it twisted, thrusting in and out continuously.
".. You mean.. What?.."
"I know he loves me, and-"
"You love him back."
"Correct. You're getting better at predictions."
"What are you.. Gonna do about it?..."
"I'm guessing he'll confess first. Then, I'll accept, and we'll go from there."
Pencil stared daggers into the tiled floor, her whole world falling into a tilt.
"And.. You'll be happy with him?"
"More than."
Fuck. Fuck this laundromat, this apartment building, and that boy. Fuck everything.
Everything but the girl who stood beside her, mindlessly humming a quiet tune.
"I'm not sure we'll get far, but I'll invite you to our wedding if we get there."
"You're.. You're serious about this?"
"I love him. He makes me happy. I don't know how, or why, but it's in my nature."
"It's- *Natural* to you?-"
Her voice cracked, and Pencil stepped back from the washing machine.
"Uh.. Maybe not 'natural', but it feels right."
"And what's *not* natural to you? What's weird?"
"Is that important?"
"... No."
"Well.. Alright."
Pencil's washing machine rung, singing its own jingle.
"Your washing's done."
"I *know*."
Her voice was husky, and she swore her eyes were tearing up. Please, no. Not now- Literally any other time would be better.
"B-Bye, Golfball."
"Farewell, Pencil."
But before Pencil could turn around with her bag of clothes, Golfball put a hand on her shoulder, making her face the girl she yearned for all her life.
"It's wonderful being friends with you."
"Mm.. Yeah.. Me too."
Pencil shuffled back to her room, head down.
--
Every time she tried to confess-
"Golfball, I-"
"Sorry, Pencil. I'm getting a call."
-
"Golfball, you-"
A car sped through the street, crashing into a restaurant.
-
"GOLFBALL! I!-"
And there Golfball was, in front of Tennisball, who was on one knee.
As long as she was happy, Pencil said. As long as her joy never came to an end, and she'd always have that toothy grin plastered on her face. As long as Tennisball loved her and she loved him back.
--
Pencil stepped intro the laundry room, hauling her bag of clothes to the washing machine and shoving a few quarters into the coin slot. The door chimed again, with Golfball stepping in, and a sparkling ring on her finger.
"Pencil?"
Golfball smiled.
"We haven't seen each other in quite a bit. How are you? You look like a mess."
And, as if nothing happened- Pencil fell in love with her all over again.