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Walking home from the store, heavy bags of goodies and necessities alike hang from your tightly clenched fists as you trudge through the snow towards home. All you can think about is curling up in bed with a warm cup of soup or hot chocolate. Honestly, you're so cold, you kind of feel like you might just need both.
Your mind is so focused on that goal, you don't notice at all when your bag's dangling keychains gets caught on a fence, one of them breaking off and falling into the snow as you trudge along.
When you finally turn the key to your home and drop your bags to the floor with a loud thump, you barely have enough energy to put away the groceries you just bought, let alone actually make those soups and hot drinks you'd been previously fantasising about. Instead, you sigh and curl up under your covers. After a few moments of blissful silence, your thoughts ring out and distract you from relaxing; so you reach to pull your phone out of your bag.
Your bag doesn't jingle quite as loudly as it once did. Your heart sinks. You know what that means, something fell off. You drag it onto your bed like an animal dragging its prey into its den and look it over. With a heavy sigh, you realize it was your green die keychain- or as you called it- your Battat keychain. You loved that little die, often imagining it was the character himself coming along with you on your misadventures in the boring real world. You bite your lip, you're so tired that this loss feels more emotionally crushing than you think it probably should have.
A shaky, heavy sigh leaves you as you let go of the half broken metal chain the die was once connected to, grab your phone, and flop over. You put on some music to help you nap and scroll aimlessly through your apps before your eyes finally get too heavy to keep open.
There's a knock at your door- at least- you think there is, it's pretty faint, as if unsure. You turn over in bed, assuming it's someone knocking on the wrong door. You aren't expecting anyone, so they probably want your neighbor's house and are realising that themselves now-
The knock comes again, then again, louder, more frantic. You realise it's the same rhythm you knock with, and feel something stir within you- something aside from your panic that you may have forgotten something.
You roll out of bed, throw on something quickly to make yourself presentable, and practically fly to your door as the knocking reaches a fever pitch; Your heart thuds in your chest just as loudly.
Your mind doesn't quite piece together what's in front of you right away. A blur of white, green, and black shaking in front of you like a picture out of focus. You blink, once, twice. A sharp cough brings you to your senses and you finally truly see the source of the noise.
It's...
Battat.
Battat, in the flesh- er, plastic. Right in front of you. His slightly clawed hands cling close to his body, as it looks like his thin green gloves don't do much to keep the cold at bay. Snow sticks to his small frame wherever it could pile up, as if he had just been pulled from an avalanche. He's almost a foot shorter than you, and his half bent over posture only accentuates that fact.
But most importantly of all, he's shivering, teeth clattering together, and he's staring at you with pleading eyes.
You stop breathing and bite the inside of your cheek, hard. You have to be dreaming, you think, but the sharp pain and the burn in your lungs say otherwise. You open your mouth to say something, but before you can so much as form the first syllable, the Pippins in front of you stumbles forward and drops, falling onto you. You reflexively put your arms out to brace him, but are too slow as his cold plastic body crashes into your warm squishy one. Your arms do, however, hook under his and keep him somewhat upright thanks to him being lighter than you expected- your grocery haul from earlier definitely weighed more.
You stand there for a moment in your entryway, feeling almost as frozen as the Pippins in your arms as you try to wrap your brain around what was happening, and more pressingly, what to do. Eventually, you settle on slowly kneeling down to the floor, lowering him with you, so you can slip an arm under his legs and hoist him up bridal style. You're careful to lift with your legs and not your back, but still find him quite light even with all his weight on you. Large clumps of snow fall off him and onto your floor as you awkwardly shuffle towards your bed, and you think about how annoying it'll be to mop that up later as you carefully place Battat upon your mattress.
His eyes are more than half closed, and he stares at you with an almost unreadable tired expression. His breathing is heavy and unsteady, but something of a shaky smile appears as he lets out a short broken laugh.
"I..." He starts, his voice breathless. He takes a few more gulps of air before continuing. "I made it... I really... made it..."
His gaze fell from you to your bag- which was still on the bed- now staring at it as if transfixed. His quivering hand reaches out and touches it, and he turns it over slowly as if it was the most interesting and delicate thing in the world. A broken clasp hangs from one of the straps, and he pokes at it with the tip of his finger.
You realise suddenly that you're just staring when you should be doing something, anything. You quickly leave the room and grab a clean towel, returning just as quickly as you left. You hold it bunched up in one hand as you use it to brush some bits of stubborn snow off of both the Pippins and your bed. Battat watches you with silent interest, though he still looks like he can barely keep his eyes open. You drop the towel to the floor when you're done, kicking it around a bit in an attempt to absorb some of the melting snow.
A damp gloved hand hesitantly touches your wrist. Your eyes snap back up to him, and you truly look at him for the first time. His cheeks, peppered with little freckled pips, are flushed green from the cold wind that no doubt nearly blew him over out there. His green eyes sparkle at you with cautious curiosity, and you imagine you're probably returning a similar expression.
Without saying anything, you remove his glove, then the other, and place them neatly on a side table. You turn to him again, and motion to his wet poncho.
"You should... probably take that off, I think." You suggest, despite being certain the removal of wet clothing was a must in order to warm him up.
He looks down at himself, then mumbles in agreement as he begins lifting it with trembling hands. From his position laying down, however, he has quite a bit of trouble, and you find yourself moving to help him take it off without really thinking. With a sigh of resignation he lets you, though he doesn't look super thrilled about not being able to do it himself. With it finally off you turn around and hang it up as quickly as you can before returning to him with another towel, a fluffier one, the softest one you own.
You cover him in it like a blanket, and he grasps onto it, a content sigh leaving his lips as he wraps it around himself as best as he can.
You find yourself thinking you probably should have started with these first, but you now move to take off his shoes and positively soaked socks. His short heeled leather dress shoes did him absolutely no favors in the snow. In addition, you quickly roll up the bottoms of his dress pants a little, to stop the wet part from touching his oddly soft skin. From what you felt of it against the back of your hands as you rolled his pant legs up, it was almost like silicone or soft vinyl. You try not to think about it too much as you swiftly grab your blanket and cover him entirely, making sure his feet don't poke out like they do under the towel. With both fluffy towel and blanket atop him, you take a step back, satisfied.
"T-Thanks..." He says weakly, clearly barely awake.
You smile warmly at him as you watch his eyes slip fully closed. He sighs again, relieved and comfortable, before slipping into a deep sleep.
You stand over him for a while, probably longer than would be considered socially acceptable, but in your defense not only did a Die Man from a Video Game just show up at your doorstep, you're also worried about his health, so you kind of have a bit of a free pass.
How on Earth was this happening to you right now anyway? Did you finally snap from being alone for so long? Was this even real? You shut your eyes tight and count to ten, and when you open them, there's still a sleeping Pippins in your bed. You grab your phone from off the bed next to him slowly, careful not to wake him, and snap a quick couple photos. When you look at them in your gallery, he's still there, looking as real as real can be.
Okay, so, this is probably really happening, then.
Your stomach growls so loudly in that moment you worry about it possibly startling him awake, but he doesn't stir. You plug your phone back in and tiptoe out of the room and to your little kitchen. It's finally time for that soup and hot chocolate.
You pull out the biggest pot you have and fill it half way with a mixture of water, milk, and spices. You put it on medium heat and keep a close eye on it to make sure it doesn't start boiling, and once it's close to boiling you cut the heat down to a simmer and add a ton of cheese, pre-boiled left over potatoes, corn, some of your favorite frozen vegetables, bacon bits, left over shredded chicken, and a few more herbs and spices you had in your cupboard- including a ton of garlic and paprika.
Once it simmers for a minute, you find it's not as thick as you want it, so you add a bit more cheeses and a cornstarch slurry to thicken it up, stirring constantly so nothing burns to the bottom of the pot. After heating it through, it's done, a delicious and hearty cream of chicken and veggie soup. You thank whatever higher power is out there for letting you by chance read how to make it in a fanfic sometime ago, and for it being so easy, too. Soup really is the greatest thing humanity has ever invented.
To compliment the meal, you pull out the bread you just bought today- your favorite kind- and spread a good amount of butter on a few slices.
You pause for a moment afterwards, the whole meal took less time than you thought it would to make, even though you were in no rush, and Battat is no doubt still asleep. You chew your bottom lip in thought before putting the lid on the pot and covering the bread to prevent it from drying out. With all that hard work protected, you fire up another burner on your stove top and begin heating a small sauce pot full of milk. You chop up some chocolate and add it in once the milk heats up, stirring constantly, before taking it off the heat and adding a few large scoops of powdered hot chocolate mix, stirring that in, and pouring it into two mugs.
This was a lot of milk, the small carton you just bought is nearly empty now.
You sure hope he isn't lactose intolerant or something.
As your thoughts begin to wander, you hear shuffling coming from your room. You perk up immediately, and watch the door...
But the door does not open. You simply hear more shuffling around coming from behind it. You briefly wonder if he's getting changed, but then you banish the thought, he wouldn't just go through your things and take your clothes without asking. Would your clothes even fit him? Probably not. His shape is quite different compared to yours.
More shuffling, a slight thump, then a pause followed by quieter shuffling.
Okay he might actually be going through your stuff right now.
Fearful of what he might unearth or heaven forbid accidentally break in your bedroom, you walk to the door and knock before cracking it open.
In the dim light of the room you see him standing in front of your open closet, the fluffy towel you gave him draped over his shoulders like a little cape. He looks at you like a child caught in the cookie jar, and he's holding something to his chest. You flip on the light and he squints, blinking at the sudden brightness. As your own eyes adjust you see what he's holding, just one of your T-shirts. Ah.
Battat continues staring at you with wide eyes once the light stops bothering them, and he begins to stammer out an explanation.
"I-I- I was just looking around for, uh, something more, more comfortable than my dress shirt." He tells you.
You raise an eyebrow at him, you have a suspicion he's not telling you the whole truth, but you decide to let it go.
"You can wear that, if you want. I think it's clean." You reply. It's old, but it's probably one of the only things you've got that would fit him half decently anyway.
He smiles awkwardly at you before looking over the shirt in the light. That's when out of the corner of your eye you see something moving behind him. It gives you a start, and you take a few steps to the side to get a better look. Is that...?
Before your brain can register what you've seen, he squeaks in embarrassment and swiftly turns to face you, attempting to hide it behind him again, but with his poncho off it's hard not to notice his- albeit small- swishing metallic tail.
"You've got a tail?" You ask bluntly, out of shock and perhaps just a bit of barely contained glee.
He gulps and looks away from you sheepishly, but slowly nods his head. There's a bit of an awkward silence between you before he finally speaks up again.
"Is that... Is that alright, with you...?" He asks, still refusing to look in your general direction.
The question takes you aback, and you're even more confused than before.
"Huh? Uhm... yes? Why wouldn't it be?" You question, tilting your head a bit.
He bites his lip, if he had blood, it would probably be bleeding a little.
"Well, because..." He starts, considering his next words carefully. "Because the 'real' Battat doesn't have one, I think. Not like this, at least..."
To punctuate his point, he turns a bit to the side as he speaks and grabs the end of his tail, allowing you to see it fully.
It's definitely made of metal, neatly connected metal rings infact, about 5 of them. Each ring is just about half the size of your palm. You think back to the broken chain on your bag.
You mull over his words for a moment.
"The 'real' Battat?" You repeat, puzzled. "Are you not the real Battat?"
He grabs ahold of the towel draped over his shoulders while still tightly clinging to the t-shirt, his fingers pinch and thumb over the fabrics as he searches for what to say.
"No, I'm a Darkner of your keychain, of course. At least... uh, I think I'm a Darkner...?" He cuts himself off, biting his thumb and mumbling to himself while his chain tail sways and twitches behind him. "But if I am, how the heck am I in this form in a Light World...?"
You watch him awkwardly for a few moments before suddenly remembering the soup and hot chocolate you prepared.
"Well, uhm... Battat, I made some dinner, if you're hungry." You offer, backing up towards the door again as if to beckon him to follow.
His tense shoulders drop and he gives you another wide eyed stare, this time searching your face for something.
"You... really don't mind?" He asks, his voice surprisingly soft.
It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking exactly, before you reply with calming certainty.
"I really don't mind at all if you're the 'real' Battat or not, you're still Battat to me."
He blinks once, twice, then his whole body trembles just slightly before relaxing, and he lets out a breath he was no doubt holding that entire time. A squiggly, shaky smile appears on his face, and you can barely see his pips from how green his cheeks have flushed.
"I- I'm going to put this on and be right out, then." He says, finally making eye contact with you again.
You can't help but smile at him just as warmly as the soup that may or may not be currently burning a little on the stove.
You've left him to change in private as you pour some of the soup into two large bowls, set the table with spoons and two glasses of ice water, along with two little plates for your buttered bread. You also grab the mugs of cocoa and place them in your microwave for a minute to reheat them, add marshmallows on top, and place them next to each cup of water.
You put your hands on your hips in satisfaction as you servey the table, making sure you've set out everything the two of you would need, when Battat finally peeks out from behind your bedroom door. He's wearing your T-shirt, which loosely hangs off one of his shoulders with how big it is on him, and surprisingly he's also replaced his dress pants with a pair of your sweatpants that he had to tightly tie around his waist to keep it from falling off his smaller, almost doll-like frame.
You smile at the Pippins and gesture him over to a seat at the table as you take the seat opposite. He follows your lead, sitting down and softly smiling at the sight of the delicious creamy stew you've made.
The bags under his eyes still look very heavy, you wonder briefly if that is just his default state of being, or if he truly needs more sleep, before you're brought back to the here and now by his voice.
"This looks nice..." He says with a small but incredibly genuine smile.
He lifts a spoonful to his mouth and let's slip a gentle, pleased noise. A wave of relief washes over you as you watch him enjoy your home cooking. You turn your attention to your own food, and immediately dunk your bread into the stew.
He looks up at you every now and again in-between bites, and you decide to break the silence.
"So, Battat... How did you get here?" You ask casually, before clarifying: "Like, to my house, I mean."
He taps his pointed fingers against the table in thought as he swallows a large spoonful of stew.
"Well, I always walk everywhere with you, so of course I knew how to get home..." He pauses and takes a sip of cocoa before continuing. "Walking on my own two feet through the snow was new, though. That definitely sucked."
That definitely makes sense, you wonder what other memories he has of being your keychain. You crack a smile at him and try to keep the conversation going.
"I'm really glad you were able to get home. I was crushed when I noticed you were missing from my bag..." You tell him, munching on some bread to buy time between sentences. "I was going to make this soup as soon as I got home actually, but I was so tired and so sad I just couldn't make myself do it." You pause once more, sipping on your water, before finishing your thoughts.
"I don't know how or why this is happening right now but... I'm really glad you're here, Battat."
He's staring at you, again, but he this time he notices and looks away, stuffing bread in his mouth in an attempt to look casual. He does not, in fact, look casual, as he nearly chokes.
What he doesn't seem to notice is his tail thumping behind him, hitting the back of the chair with each wag.
"I'm glad too... It's cosy here. Kind of nice to not be attached to the bag all the time, and I get to wear your clothes..." He trails off, feeling he's said too much, more bread is stuffed quickly into his mouth.
You giggle at him, admiring his blushing green face despite how silly he looks trying to eat way too much bread at once, like some kind of duck without limits.
You chat for a bit longer around the table, mainly you asking him things about what he remembers and what it was like to be a keychain, and he'd tell you about how he has vague knowledge of TV World, but no clear memories of it, along with his theories on how this whole situation you've found yourselves in might have happened. The circumstances of his sudden new form and sentience definitely seems to bother him somewhat in an existential way, but he's not complaining.
Ultimately the two of you settle on deciding not to question it too much, at least not tonight, worried that this first night together could very well be your last and not wanting to waste any of it.
After dinner, Battat helps you put away the left overs and do the dishes. As he helps you, he looks at everything in the room with great interest, memorising everything he sees as if the cupboard truly holds the secrets to the universe instead of your mugs.
It's not long before you find yourselves curled up on opposite ends of the couch, watching TV. You reach for your phone without thinking, only then remembering it's been plugged in inside your room this whole time. You excuse yourself for a moment to go grab it, and walk into your room.
Your closet door is still open, and a few of your clothes have been dragged out and scattered about from when Battat was no doubt looking for something to wear. You also spot Battat's own clothes on the floor amongst yours, and it makes something stir in your chest.
You find your phone under your pillow, unplugged. The cord must have gotten tugged while you or Battat slept earlier. It's decently charged anyway, so you pocket it and turn to head back to the living room. As you walk back, you see Battat standing up and looking under the couch cushions. He freezes like a deer in headlights when he spots you, before hopping back atop the couch with his hands folded in his lap. The picture of innocence.
"What were you doing?" You ask with a small laugh.
"Uh, just, uh, lost the remote." He replies, you know, like a liar.
You point helpfully towards the coffee table, where the remote sits perfectly visible in the middle.
"Oh! Oh, there it is! Ahahaha...! The coffee table! Of course! You know I swear I looked there first but I guess I somehow missed it, geez how'd I go and miss that, huh? Ah..." He babbles as he grabs the remote and proceeds to turn the volume up just one singular tick. "There we go! All better now, thanks, that was driving me crazy!" He smiles awkwardly and completely unconvincingly at you.
"O-kay, now what were you really looking for?" You prod, sitting down next to him.
He gulps and looks away, his tail curls around himself and he holds the remote to his chest.
"I... I honestly don't really know. I just have this desire to check everything. I- I'm sorry, I'll keep my hands to myself from now on." He admits, a clear look of shame on his face.
"Hey, it's alright. You can look around just, like, ask first okay?" You tell him, and he nods in response, but you get the feeling this won't be the last time you have this conversation.
Now curled up on the couch together- with Battat still clutching the remote- the two of you share a blanket while watching some cooking reality shows and thinking you could both definitely do better at the challenge than the professional chefs.
"I mean, risotto in less than 30 minutes?! What is going on inside that guy's head?! I would have just kept it simple. Can't impress the judges if your food never makes it to the damn judging table!!!" He rants while gesturing wildly at the tv.
"I saw a guy try to make fresh pasta once during this round." You tell him between giggles. Your laughter reaches a crescendo when you see the dumbfounded look on his face at this information.
"You're kidding. There's just no way... Did he make it in time?" He asks, voice hushed as if you were telling secrets.
"I honestly can't remember, sorry." You say, delighting in how he looks like he would pull his hair out in frustration if he had any.
"Well now we HAVE to find that episode! Pull out your phone right now! I HAVE to know how that shook out! You can't just leave me in suspense like this!" The blanket falls to floor as he waves his arms around.
You spend the rest of your night like that, watching TV and talking about nothing important, but hanging onto each word. Every moment you spend with him he gets a little more relaxed, a little more bold, a little more like himself. Eventually, though, the excitement of the day dies down and a cosy, comfortable silence falls between you, only interrupted now and again by a quip or two from one of you, and a laugh in response by the other.
"Oh how the hell did they forget the salt?" You chuckle while the judges on the screen look very unimpressed, and a familiar dramatic sting rings out from the speakers.
There is no response, however. Not even a snort or amused breath. You turn your head and look at Battat, snuggled up against you eyes shut tight. His left arm, once around the back of the couch, now lay against your back, his fingers just barely touching your side. It's a very intimate situation you've found yourselves in, you don't even recall when his arm slipped behind you.
Watching his chest slowly rise and fall, your own breathing slows, and your eyes eventually start to flutter closed. Right before they do, you think you see something shifting in the darkness, but it's not dark enough yet to see it, and you fall asleep.