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"I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you. I'm sorry."
Ganondorf's cackles were piercing. Somehow the human was more inhumane than the robot.
"Please. Stop it. It's me. Please."
Begging couldn't do anything. The others were silent, an eerie compliance into Tabuu's plan as they held the bombs tight. They stared at R.O.B, then back at their
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Donkey Kong's nails scratched and lodged into the metal on R.O.B's shoulders. He knew he meant well by picking him up and taking him out of there. Survival and safety were the immediate instincts for the team. R.O.B watched his Ancient Minister cloak lay on the ground, like a haunting portrayal of what was to come. All his attempts to save his race were for nothing.
It put a pit in his stomach that left him physically ill every morning since.
This was a scene frequent in R.O.B's nightmares, his daydreams, and his thoughts whenever they had a chance to drift back into the blur of it all. R.O.B's eyes opened rapidly and he turned onto his back and leaned down at the bucket below him, panting. Nothing ever came out, but it felt pretty damn close to it every morning. It had been three days since Tabuu's defeat, and R.O.B, like the other Smashers, hadn't quite processed the genocide of his whole race until it was all over. Not that the other Smashers seemed to care: Mario and Kirby had thrown a celebration the first night. Again, R.O.B knew they meant well. And he'd never been quite close with any of them, anyways. But it wasn't helpful to his grief to sit there in a castle listening to a drunken Sonic yell like a frat guy at an equally drunken Ike, while Samus and Captain Falcon flirted all night next to him. The only one R.O.B had enjoyed talking to was Mr. Game & Watch, a quiet guy that he'd met and shared space with but didn't know too well. He had a simple, yet cool style, and a look in his small, rounded eyes like he'd seen more than he'd ever let on. He was friendly, offered his sympathies, and he'd been letting R.O.B sleep in his apartment's spare room until he got back on his feet.
It was quite embarrassing to almost vomit in someone else's home. R.O.B turned back over and let out a sigh. Holding his pained shoulder, he climbed out of bed. The day was dreary but calm, the environment still reeling from the tears of Subspace. In the kitchen, Mr. Game & Watch proved himself quite the chef, holding a frying pan tight on the stove. On the TV was the morning news, but neither paid attention, and their eyes met.
"Morning," he said in a raspy voice, the negative space of his eyes widening.
"Hi," R.O.B said, subdued.
He began to twitch slightly, like the tensing of a human's muscles. The physical symptoms were harrowing, and they augmented his pain. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.
"I made you coffee," Mr. Game & Watch pretended not to notice and handed him a silver mug.
"Thank you."
The two sat in silence for a notable moment.
"So...what have you been up to?" Mr. Game & Watch asked.
R.O.B paused. "I wish I could say more, G." That was a nickname he'd heard others say for him, mostly more outgoing, witty guys like Falco and Fox.
He continued. "I don't want to go back to the Isle. There's nothing for me out there."
"You shouldn't," Mr. Game & Watch smiled softly. "It's just going to hurt you. There's more for you in the city with everyone. There's a great scene out here now that all the shit's over."
"Maybe..."
"You should stay. I want you to stay." Mr. Game & Watch seemed to push out of himself to say.
R.O.B nodded, with a slight fluster in his twitching that started up again.
"Should we...sit down?" Mr. Game & Watch motioned to the couch with his thin, cartoon silhouette of an arm. "And 'G', that's a new one from you." He chuckled.
With a look at the ground, R.O.B hid back a smile.
They idled on the couch for a while, flipping between the weather, entertainment, but Mr. Game & Watch's hands finally settled on the remote, upon footage of the decrepit areas damaged in Subspace. The two of them sat there staring. It wasn't comfortable to be exposed to, but neither felt the need to change the channel.
"R.O.B," he said seriously. "I feel like I haven't been completely honest with you."
The robot let out a sigh, like a non-verbal "Lay it on me." On the couch, Mr. Game & Watch leaned over, with a certain natural musk on him that made him appear more human than R.O.B. But he wasn't human, and everyone knew that. Perhaps his secret was that he desperately wants nothing more to be a human, to be understood, like Link, like Mario, like the stars of each show. There was depth and intrigue in him that R.O.B wanted to cut his metal teeth onto. Metaphorically, and literally.
Maybe it was some sort of trauma-induced attachment, more likely than not, it was, but R.O.B felt a certain admiration course through his motor in Mr. Game & Watch, this sweet guy who'd encouraged him and helped him and been kind when everyone else had been aloof. Maybe they could prove themselves to the rest of the Smashers as the mechanical and the two-dimensional forces to be reckoned with. How did they barely know each other before, when R.O.B felt he was his twin flame?
But Mr. Game & Watch's looming secret put a pause on R.O.B's thoughts.
"Barely anyone knows about this..." he trailed off. "But I was involved in Subspace. More than you think."
"No one was more involved than me," R.O.B interjected, daring, but his voice dropped. "I can assure you."
"I know, I know, I thought you'd understand," Mr. Game & Watch held his breath and looked to the side.
"Hey. What is it? What's wrong?" The robot's concern grew for his companion.
"Tabuu...he took advantage of me."
"Yeah. Me too. Ganondorf. Bowser. All of us."
"No, no, the Shadow Bugs. His army. They came from me. And he'd copy and he'd copy. I didn't know. I was being used. I fucked everything up. I really fucked everything up." Mr. Game & Watch breathed heavily.
The nausea regrew inside of R.O.B, but he didn't want to abandon Mr. Game & Watch, pouring his heart out to him.
"It's not your fault," R.O.B said, and as he spoke he felt his queasiness go and come back in waves, closing up his throat. "I...I led my people...to their demise...because I was doing what I thought was right. Because he told me to. And when it was wrong, it was too late."
R.O.B didn't think he'd ever said it out loud before. It brought a certain bitterness to the event that he hadn't considered since it happened. He wished Tabuu could pay, specifically pay to R.O.B and his people for the genocide. That was the word. Genocide.
"And I still feel it all the time," R.O.B continued.
The two stared into each other for some minutes, a sense of exhaustion swirling around them and their shaky breaths. The couch's thin, modern build gave them no comfort besides each other. R.O.B didn't move, or else the pains in his side, and the twitching would start up again.
"I wanna stay here," R.O.B said, turning his head gently to Mr. Game & Watch. "I don't wanna go back."
"Then don't," Mr. Game & Watch smiled. "I like the idea of you being here. I'd protect you."
"No," R.O.B shook his head, appalled at the idea of unbalanced dependency. "I'd protect you." This was a playful remark, a feeling R.O.B hadn't felt for days. He deduced that Mr. Game & Watch didn't heal him, but he gave R.O.B the opportunity to offset his own racing mind. Still, he'd be followed by his people forever. No one could make him forgot.
Mr. Game & Watch put his hand around R.O.B's wires on his arms, just below the scratch Donkey Kong had given him. His touch cooled the stinging sensations that the scratch gave his mind. A true placebo. "You know, I really think you're a great guy, Robbie."
"Robbie's a new one," he looked out the window with a smirk as he observed the weather: it had remained gray.
They sat in comfortable silence, nothing to say, it had already been said. R.O.B, who'd always been one to think with logic on things, got caught up in the heat of it all, and he followed his will and stroked the side of Mr. Game & Watch's face gently, before softly kissing him, their lips shaking, their mouths red, Mr. Game & Watch's hand placed on his own forehead like he was taking his temperature. it was all on a whim, and the best whim of R.O.B's life.
"I've wanted you to do that for a long time."
The two breathed out, and the melancholy came back. It wasn't easy to be them these days. But somehow, their fates aligned in a balance. it was clear, it was raw, and it was stunning, but it was safe. In each other's embrace, they laid there, not moving a muscle, processing yet still living. Because this was a moment to be kept and held.
"I love you."
"I love you."
"Whatever the future holds."
"Whatever the future holds."