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The hotel was too loud for Pencil. There was always someone running, someone screaming, Pencil couldn’t even tell who it was at this point. She grimaces as she thinks maybe this alone solidifies her ‘newbie’ status.
The room she was given is still bare, the bed covered in random stolen sheets she found in the laundry room, a blanket that’s definitely hers, one that she has no idea how it got here. She’s pretty sure the last time she saw it was in the freesmart van that’s currently missing along with its stolen owner. Two would pop in a few things for the contestants if they asked nicely, and although she never talked to Two and doesn’t truly trust them, there was a nice vanity and desk in the room ever since she first saw the room.
She has hope on who is to blame for the random hints that this room truly is hers, but doesn’t hold her breath. Not after seeing and talking to Book, it’s like she doesn’t exist anymore to her, why would she care to make sure she’s settling into her new place. There’s only a few options, but ultimately she chalks it up to Two and their all knowing limitless power. Power that she wants, Pencil craves the ability to erase the faults that plague her present.
The vanity is nice, white and new, a little too in perfect condition for someone like herself to have. The mirror reflects the empty walls around her and herself. Hair that’s a little too long. Her roots cast a shadow over her face. The contrast of her darker hair against her paler skin makes her tense up. There was no real sun in The Exit, no bleach either. She prefers the blonde, and almost always would be supporting tanner skin. Yet all she looks now is sickly. Resting was always a difficult challenge in there, when you could find somewhere comfortable, which was a rare find, someone would always crash, everyone focused on their own comfort, working together to get out was the only time most of them got along. After Match showed up Pencil started to feel a bit better, like maybe The Exit didn’t have to be all bad. But constant worksheets and pressure made her head hurt and she felt every second in there made her body rot.
Even thinking about Four made her violently upset, and scared. Most of the time her room was the only thing that gave her comfort. She was safe here, venturing out of her felt nerve racking, especially meal time, with those two in charge of the kitchen and food preparations. There was this fear that at any moment Two could change his mind, Four and X would be able to put her back there…
To Pencil, it wasn’t fair, so what if she lost the game, who gave them the right to lock her away forever, separating her away from her friends, people she cares about. Why do they get to have that kind of power? What makes them worthy of toying with people’s lives like that?
The mirror shakes as Pencil slams her hands against the pristine top. Her reflection captures the tensing in her shoulders. The slump of her spine and darkness under eyes give evidence to the lack of proper sleep. Her hands begin to shake even leaning on the vanity makes her body feel too heavy. Vision blurry and breathing tight she stumbles away from the bright white of the table top and the giant mirror that reflects the past 6 years of psychological torture, torment, and unrest. She just wants to sleep, for a long long time. She wants her friends, she wants…everything she used to have. Everyone seemed to move on, except her.
The bed is new and stiff, her body can’t seem to make it sink, the realization alone shocks her somehow.
“Gods I really am a shell of myself aren’t I” she whispers, curling in on herself more.
There's more noise outside her door and she brings a pillow around her head, trying to block out the sounds of the other contestants, playing, talking, having fun with each other between rounds. Everything that’s locked in a distant past for her.
The tears push past her eyes finally as she lets herself break. Her face is warm as the drops fall, breath shaky, and mind clouded. Here in the safeness of her room she lets down her mask.
Pencil’s entire face feels wet and clammy, her heart feels too fast. Breathing is painful and unnerving, no matter how big a breath she tries to take it’s too shaky to make a difference. Her arms come to wrap around her stomach, flat and empty, she feels bile rising in her throat. She hates it all.
The past 6 years, the struggle of coming back, the fact that none of her friends want anything to do with her, Book won’t even entertain the idea of talking to Pencil. The newbie comment ringing in her ears. Newbie? Pencil? They wouldn’t be saying that if they knew all she’s endured these past years alone. Not to mention the first game that started it all. If she never played, if she could convince her friends not to, would it be different now?
Firey got maybe 2 seconds of dream island before it was ripped from his hands, from everybody's hands. What was even the point of playing? What convinced her then to play again for an even worse prize. Was it truly a sense of wanting an adventure with the other freesmarters? The ones that look at her with disdain and hatred. Had the competition led to Pencil putting herself first? Or was she always so selfish? Maybe everything was just dues. For blaming Ruby at every possible second, using Match’s trust for her own benefit, holding member and half member status over their ‘alternative’ friends.
“Pencil?” A knock fades into the busy background of the hotel.
Part of her feels that she deserved her time in The Exit. The other part upset that Four got to make that call, that the viewers got to make that call. She could have dealt with the freesmarters if she had been there. It didn’t have to get to this point.
“Pencil? Hey, can you hear me?”, another knock, crisper and sharper. Meant to draw focus and attention goes unnoticed.
Another part of herself knows that Four was wrong for everything he did. She wants, desperately, to be able to place her own selfish behavior on him. Him and the damn speaker box, announcer, whatever. They changed her. Made her want to use her friends. It had to be that, if not..
Then has Pencil always been this terrible of a person?
“Pencil? Team Cloudyay and I noticed you weren’t at dinner… Uh listen I brought you some food, can you maybe open the door?” Rustling follows as Golf Ball adjusts the soup she took from the kitchen. It was hot as she headed up the stairs, cooling fast as it took a few moments for her to gain the courage to knock.
It’s not like things with Pencil have always been easy. It took Golf Ball a long time to admit to herself how she felt about the other girl. And by the time she thought maybe she felt more for the bleach blonde, with the perfect smile, french tips, and a mind manipulating beautiful and smart, she was gone. Casted into Four’s vague punishment for eternity. It had been a surprise to see her after 6 years. Looking so much different than she remembered.
Pencil has always been beautiful to her, ever since the first time they fought so badly it turned borderline violent. The moment Golf Ball pinned Pencil's manicured hands to the wall, boxing her in with her own body. Eyes boring into each other. It was the first time Golf Ball felt anything for another person, she was stricken with a need to punch and kiss her all at the same time. Everything that happened between them afterwards was always fast, quick, and they never talked about it. Even now Golf Ball has this fear that bringing it up would destroy this fragile team dynamic they’ve found themselves in. She wants answers, and she also wants to know what happened in those 6 years. She wants to know if maybe Pencil ever felt like she did. If feelings ever played into every kiss, touch, moment they shared, or, if it was just wishful thinking.
Not that Golf Ball is one to talk back then; she never made an effort to ask. Things were different then. They’re older now, more in tune with themselves. It took Golf Ball a long time after Pencil’s elimination in BFB to even consider why she felt hollow, eyes following the rest of the freesmarters, as if hoping she’d reappeared between them suddenly.
And now she has. 6 years is a long time though, there is no telling if what she even feels for Pencil is still there, but she wants to know her again. Maybe under better conditions this time. I mean they are finally on the same side. Working together to win and not against each other, Golf Ball thinks to herself lifting her hand again to knock once more.
“I know things have been weird given… our history but this is the first time we’ve really been on the same team. It could be fun, maybe…” Silence follows. She knows Pencil came this way. The second Donut said they could go have free time they scattered to the wind, usually Golf Ball would wait, hoping to catch Tennis Ball for a free moment. They were currently trying to understand the sky cracking and how much potential harm they all did to the timelines. Black Hole keeping every waking moment watching the crack helped monitor the growth. But it was still concerning, their immediate safety was guaranteed but leaving their world in such a fragile state wasn’t going to end well in the long term. When Tennis Ball was deemed busy it seemed the universe was telling her that maybe she could talk with Pencil a bit, she had seen how scared of Four she was and how she reacted everytime he was mentioned. Maybe even just letting her know that her new team could be there for her could help.
“Pencil. I know you’re in there I saw you head up here after the mandatory team bonding session Donut keep making us have”
Maybe Golf Ball should come back later, even if it was a pain to get this food from the kitchen with Four and X guarding it 24/7. Golf Ball starting to think that Pencil doesn’t want to talk, turns to leave, but stops as she can hear crying and heavy breathing.
Maybe Pencil doesn’t want to talk, but she doesn’t sound like she should be alone right now. Golf Ball thinks changing course and placing her hand on the door handle. Hopefully Pencil didn’t think to lock it after her hasty retreat earlier.
The knob turns slowly, light from the hall casting a spotlight on Pencil, laying, shaking, on her bed. Her room looks untouched and empty, much like its current occupant.
Golf Ball, not wanting to waste any time, moves quickly, placing the soup down on the vanity by the door, the contents splash a bit in the hasty deposit, lapping and slinging a bit off the side, dripping down onto the white painted surface. She doesn’t look back as she pushes the door closed again and approaches the bed, wanting to quickly reach Pencil who is unresponsive to all the commotion around her.
Golf Ball reaches out her hand but seeing Pencil subconsciously tense before Golf Ball touches her has her hesitating. Golf Ball realizes the other girl must have been able to tell someone was here even if she wasn’t fully aware of her surroundings. She’s so curled in on herself that Golf Ball can barely tell what she’s looking at. Her breathing is still heavy and Golf Ball can see the tears that have fully covered her cheeks, making them red and highlighting the bags under her eyes. ‘Gods when was the last time she slept’, Golf Balls wonders as she takes in more of Pencil’s appearance. Her chest falling and rising in rapid pace, her arms practically biting into midriff.
“Hey Pencil, I’m gonna touch your arm okay, I know it might freak you out but you need help grounding, okay?” No reply. Golf Ball wasn’t really expecting one given Pencil's current state. She’d rather apologize later than leave Pencil in this state.
When a gentle and soft touch Golfball finally made contact with Pencil’s shoulder. The response was immediate. Pencil’s cries became harsher, rising in volume. Her chest movements quicken and the noises coming up through her throat are rough, half wailing and coughing, gasping for air.
“Shh, it’s gonna be okay Pencil, I got you” Golf Ball smooths her hand down Pencil’s form. Dragging light touches down her shoulders, trying to keep it steady and slow, afraid of causing another reaction out of Pencil. Eventually Golfball’s hand makes it one of Pencil’s hands. Her hand is buried into her side, as if she made an attempt to self soothe herself, Golf Ball thinks, but given her nails that are biting and indenting her sides she went too far in her attempts to ground herself.
Golf Ball pushes her hand into where Pencil’s arms are wrapped around her stomach. Pulling until she’s able to free one hand, twisting and unraveling Pencil’s fingers, that morphed into a tight ball when losing grip on her midriff. When Golf Ball is finally able to straighten out the other’s fingers she notices her chipped nails, far from what Golf Ball knew were Pencil’s preferred standards, a fix for another day she thinks to herself as getting Pencil aware of her surroundings needs to be step number one.
Before Pencil can tighten her grip again Golf Ball hastily wedges her chunky smaller fingers in between Pencil’s thinner, longer, ones. As Pencil closes her hand they intertwine, locking them together.
Pencil’s eyes shoot open at the actual feeling of another person’s hand in hers glancing at her hand pulled to the side above her stomach and then to Golf Ball’s frame leaning over her. It doesn’t look like a comfortable position, Golf Ball half braced on the bed and pushing onto a hand that's planted somewhere near Pencil’s head, as to not put any onto their conjoined hands.
Pencil’s eyes follow Golf Ball’s hands up to her face and when their eyes meet an unspoken conversation takes place. Pencil’s first reaction is to pull away her breathing, still harsh and shaky, tears still collecting on her cheeks and rolling down to her chin. Pencil thinks as she looks into the shorter girl's eyes, that Golf Ball must be here either out of obligation or pity. Like everyone else she thought Golf Ball wanted nothing to do with her as well. Given their past she wouldn’t blame her. But here she is and maybe it’s just Pencil’s imagination but the look in Golf Ball’s eyes are soft and she seems concerned. Golf Ball’s lips are moving but Pencil still can’t hear her speak, she knows Golf Ball must have been talking before, she’s the type to never shut up when she has something to say. Either full noise or none. Pencil used to really enjoy both from her. She can feel a rhythmic pressure, and ,oh, Golf Ball is squeezing her hand. It seems a little easier to breathe, and as she’s calming down she wants to hide in embarrassment but in this moment Golf Ball’s steady eye contact, and just her squeezing her hand it’s enough. And although she still can’t hear what she’s saying she’s sure it’s something overly complicated about what’s going on, Golf Ball always chose the lengthy explanation of simple things.
Golf Ball’s eye bore into Pencil’s and she has a dazed look in her eyes that makes her nervous. “Hey Pencil.. Can you hear me?” Pencil seems to still be taking in her surroundings and Golf Ball can notice her breathing slowing a bit, ‘that’s good’, she thinks to herself. But the problem of Pencil’s disconnection to reality remains. “Pencil I’m gonna squeeze your hand okay? Just try to squeeze back when you can, and maybe match your breathing to mine okay?” With this she starts by adjusting herself climbing fully unto the bed next to Pencil the angle is still awkward as she sits on her back legs hand wrapped underneath Pencil’s pulling her into a hunched position over her. Golf Ball keeps an arm to the side bracing herself so she doesn’t fall onto Pencil.
She starts slow and keeps a count, squeeze for in, another for out. Repeating it a few times, until she can see in Pencil’s eyes a tad of recognition, she hopes her own eyes can convey how worried she is for Pencil. How she’s here for her. Golf Ball hates the silence the only time Pencil is usually quiet with her is when her mouth is occupied, before she knows it she starts to fill the silence with her own ramblings.
“I think you’re having a panic attack Pencil. I’m not sure what happened to cause it or if this has been building up. I wanted to talk to you when I followed you up here and I know you can’t really commit to that now.. Maybe later? Or uh it’s weird that you’re back, I mean it’s not weird it’s just. It’s been a long time and I've been wondering what happened. I know you’re scared of-” Golf Ball cuts off her ramblings as Pencil’s breaths hitches. ‘Right it might not be such a great idea to mention Four since that may be the real cause of this breakdown’ Golf Ball thinks to herself and she squeezes Pencil’s hand again.
It takes a few more moments that Golf Ball lets be in silence before Pencil’s hand starts squeezing back. Although Pencil doesn’t say a word her other hand finally uncliches her side and comes up to meet their intertwined fingers. Pencil’s eyes widened at the recognition of their position before ghosting her free hand along Golf Ball’s wrist.
“Hey are you back with-” Golf Ball’s words get cut off by a sudden pull from the hand that was barely touching her wrist now fully wrapped around it and tugging her forward. “Pencil be careful I could fall on you” Golf Ball mentions as the forcefulness continues.
“Can you just..Please”, the soft words have Golf Ball pausing, as it’s the first time Pencil has spoken the entire time. She still has tears flowing slowly from her eye’s, bloodshot with the amount of water loss she’s experienced, and her breathing seems relatively normal. She seems nervous of even asking and it's this that has Golf Ball taking and a deep breath and nodding.
‘It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before’ Golf Ball thinks as she slowly undoes their hands. Pencil’s other hand doesn’t release from her wrist though and Golf Ball can tell it’s not going to. ‘She probably wants to remain in contact now that she knows who I am and she’s a bit more comfortable’. It takes some thought but Golf Ball decides the best course of action is to attempt to roll over Pencil to the empty side of the bed. She leans back slightly onto her legs and then using her hand that's bracing against the bed launches herself over Pencil. Luckily enough she lands into the open space on the other side, her legs don’t make it as far as landing on top of Pencil’s but judging from the lack of response Pencil doesn’t seem to mind much.
Now that they are laying down together another pull comes across her wrist. Golf Ball moves her hand down to intertwine the new hand with herself and slots herself closer. When she’s close enough Pencil lets out a huge breath and all but collapses her head onto Golf Ball’s shoulder. Her face pushing into her neck, Golf Ball can feel how sticky Pencil’s cheeks are with sweat and tears. Her heart quickens at the position. That action alone has her feeling terrible, a low feeling of guilt in her gut. Pencil is going through a lot and Golf Ball is freaking out about that, and apparently how much she’s missed Pencil. Pushing down the feelings of wanting to pull Pencil into chest she starts to talk again.
“Pencil, you can’t fall asleep like this. It would be better if you ate, and changed clothes. Do you want to clean up a bit? And then I promise we can lay back down, I’m not going anywhere” The words come out softly, she is afraid too much noise will send Pencil back down spiraling.
She can feel when Pencil registers what she says, her eyelashes tickle her neck as they flicker and Pencil’s head tills up slightly to look at Golf Ball’s. A slow nod gives Golf Ball the push to reach her free hand underneath Pencil's back bringing them into a seated position.
“I..I uh brought you food, it may be a bit cold now but it’s better than nothing. I don’t think it’s wise to leave to get you new food but if you want something warm I can probably head back down to the-”
“It’s fine...I’ll eat it” Pencil’s voice is a lot slower in comparison to Golf Ball’s rambling. Pencil can tell this whole situation has thrown her for a loop and she seems a bit lost as she clumsily detaches from her. Stumbling across the room to grab the bowl left by the door in a hurry.
The bowl is still slightly warm to the touch Golf Ball notes carrying it with care as to not spill anymore of it as she sits back down. Pencil tries to reach for the bowl once Golf Ball is settled but her hands are still shaky and it makes Golf Ball pause from fully handing over the bowl.
“I think it might be better if you just let me” Golf Ball whispers taking the spoon out of the soup slowly and blowing on the contents, while the bowl is not hot she can’t tell the soup's temperature anymore and would rather not risk burning Pencil on accident. The spoon makes a connection with Pencil’s closed mouth. Before Golf Ball can comment on how Pencil needs to open her mouth to actually eat, Pencil's mouth finally opens and closes around the spoon. Golf Ball watches her eyes light up at the taste of food and her throat swallows down the nutrients her body is severely lacking.
“I hope it tastes okay, you know I’m not the best at cooking I found this in the back of the freezer and heated it up, I honestly think Bottle may have made it a while back” Golf Ball rambles as her eyes break away from Pencil’s throat pulling the spoon out and back into the bowl to repeat the actions before.
And while Pencil doesn’t respond she keeps eating. ‘At this point she’s probably so exhausted and ready to sleep ‘ Golf Ball thinks. In comfortable silence Golf Ball continues to feed Pencil the soup, until about half way through the bowl Pencil shakes her head. It’s not surprising to Golf Ball that Pencil doesn’t finish, given how little her frame has become in her time away.
Golf Ball quickly deposits the bowl back unto the vanity and searches around the area. Opening drawers and rummaging around until she locates what she’s looking for. Pencil can hear her mutter under breath as she searches, a quick “ah ha” and Golf Ball makes a beeline back to the bed.
“I knew you probably had make up wipes in there somewhere, I was pretty sure Two pops everything into these rooms fully loaded so, uh yea. Hopefully you don’t mind using these as opposed to a shower, I figured you might want to sleep soon.” She places the wipes on a nearby nightstand and makes her way over to the closet. There is a chest of drawers standing tall by the door and Golf Ball quickly launches herself into the third drawer. Pencil used to be very organized when it comes to clothes arranging her drawers in most used to least used. Golf Ball knows that pajamas probably land somewhere in the middle of all that. Considering Pencil’s barely verbal state and tiredness Golf Ball is on the hunt for something easy for Pencil to slip on. A night gown or old big t-shirt would work. Golf Ball takes note of how little is in the drawer upon first glance. ‘Did she never ask Two to pop in her old clothes, their pretty nice and acts like they want us comfortable here. They wouldn’t mind I’m sure’ Golf Ball thinks making a mental note to bring this up later whether it’s to Pencil or Two herself.
Eventually she finds a science museum t-shirt shoved to the side of the drawer. ‘This is definitely mine. How’d she even get this’ Golf Ball wonders plucking it from the drawer and turning around to check on Pencil again. She sitting watching Golf Ball and Golf Ball can’t help but to wonder what Pencil is thinking about all this.
Pencil thought maybe Golf Ball would leave after feeding her soup, as if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, but she didn’t. Golf Ball has kept her promise of not leaving and while Pencil wants to know what it all means and why Golf Ball would even bother with her after everything, she can’t seem to open her mouth to question her. Gods she's so tired she just wants to sleep, but even though this place is supposed to be safe she finds herself usually waking up multiple times a night. Just to make sure she’s still here, in this hotel. She can’t go back to that place, not again. Never again. She’ll make sure she gets to stay in the real world this time no matter what.
A hand shakes Pencil out of thoughts. Golf Ball is holding her hand again, and just as quick as she did it’s gone again clothes drop next to Pencils spread legs as Golf Ball reaches for the wipes.
A silence washes over the room, when Pencil concentrates she can still hear noises from beyond her room, but they don’t feel as loud as before. The wipes feel cool against her cheeks, and it has Pencil tensing from the temperature alone. She never thought she’d be in this position, not that Golf Ball hasn’t taken care of her before, just not in such a non-sexual setting, it’s unnerving to her, letting Golf Ball touch her without the pretense of sex. Everything from their past was always quick, most of the time baited on by some act of violent or harsh words. Pencil never meant them for the most part, it’s just how they worked back then. When things were more simple, hanging out with the freesmarters, making fun of the rest of the contestants, arguing with Golf Ball, making out with Golf Ball, finally realizing that maybe she liked her messy grey hair more than she thought. Even if back then that all seemed so stressful, it seems like a good dream from where she is now. When she got eliminated she never thought it was going to be for a long time, she isn’t actually sure what she thought. Four told her she played knowing the consequences, but did she really. She can’t seem to remember exactly agreeing with them. And not everyone else eliminated showed up as she found out, and they eventually got everyone out of the TLC. She remembers how much begging Golf Ball made her do to get Match out.
“There! All clean. Do you feel a bit better Pencil?” Golf Ball’s question sends Pencil back to the present. Pencil nods, at this moment she could care less about the state of herself. She is just hoping that Golf Ball stays a bit longer. Maybe till she falls asleep, so she knows someone is here, someone will know if he comes back to try and take her away again.
“Can you lift your arms a bit? I'll help you get changed.” Pencil lifts her head to stare up at Golf Ball, not moving her arms even in the slightest. Not out of an attempt to piss Golf Ball off, she just doesn't think she has the energy to help. Golf Ball seems to understand giving her a nod and reaching for the bottom edge of her shirt.
Pencil isn’t afraid of her body or she used to not be. She knows she looks entirely different than how she used to and there is a part of her that thinks Golf Ball might be disgusted with her now. But as her shirt is lifted, she can feel Golf Ball’s fingers trace over her stomach. From her navel to the tops of her chest. Definitely unintentional and with no hidden agenda, and yet Pencil holds her breath.
Golf Ball is freaking out. No matter how much time has passed or what she looks like, Pencil will always be beautiful to her. She’s trying not to stare at Pencil’s body as she undresses her. Pencil has always been a bit less fuller than her in certain departments for sure but it seems Four wasn’t giving them enough food to really thrive in The Exit it seems. ‘I’ll just make sure she’s eating more. If I add more carbs and proteins onto her plate it could help speed up her recovery time. She must run out of energy so quickly if her fat percentage has gone down this drastically. I can almost see the outline of her ribs.’ Golf Ball notes. Her eyes quickly glossing over her chest as she pulls off Pencil’s shirt and throws it to the ground. A later problem. She grabs her stolen shirt and bunches it up where the bottom meets the top and grabs Pencil’s arms, slotting into the arm holes and pushing up to meet Pencil’s chest. Golf Ball tilts Pencil’s head down and quickly slides the shirt down over her thinner frame. Pencil seemed to have opted for her name sakes’ style skirt today. It doesn’t seem to have matched the top she was wearing but given the state of her chest of drawers Golf Ball wonders how many clothes Pencil even has right now.
Golf Ball makes quick work of the skirt hands running across the sides to find the button and zipper. She’s pretty sure she’s seen Match wear this skirt back in the day and had to hear Pencil talk about picking it out at the mall for her. Once unzipped she sticks her hands under the waistbands and pulls quickly. The momentum lifts Pencil up enough to completely pull off the skirt in one go. Pencil’s body falls completely onto the bed as soon as the skirt is off. Head hitting the pillow and hair falling around it wildly. Golf Ball reaches to pull off the headband Pencil was using today and places it on the night stand next to the wipes she used earlier.
Golf Ball then hesitates standing next to the bed. Pencil’s eyes finding hers again. Pencil’s mouth opens trying to convey something to Golf Ball but nothing comes out. Golf Ball seems to understand anyway nodding before grabbing the other clothes left by Pencil’s legs, a set for her, just in case Pencil wanted her to stay longer.
Golf Ball wastes no time pulling off her shirt and and shorts, pulling on another t-shirt she found stashed in the drawer, this one she has no idea who’s it is, but it’s big enough to give her a bit of modesty so she shrugs it on before making her way to the other side of the bed. Pencil was on top of the covers she had been this whole time but Golf Ball wants them to be able to sleep comfortably. Carefully she pulls back her side of the covers, it's awkward, but she doesn’t want to have to move Pencil again, she shimmies the blanket down the bed and out from under Pencil’s body. Finally able to move the covers she pulls them over Pencil and herself climbing in next to the other girl.
The sunsetting through the window rids the room of any light left. Pencil and Golf Ball breathe out in sync. Pencil rolls closer, hoping Golf Ball will let her back in. Golf Ball couldn't deny Pencil, not when she’s like this, obviously in need of someone.
Golf Ball wraps her arms around Pencil’s middle pressing her hands against her back urging her forward into her chest. Pencil nuzzles into the comfort of Golf Ball’s person.
But it’s not enough Pencil still feels like she isn’t close enough, that she needs more. Slowly, as if still afraid Golf Ball will suddenly reject her and tell her this whole thing has been some mean prank, she moves her bare legs. Lifting one and bullying it in between Golf Balls thick and warm thighs. The weight presses down on Pencil’s leg and it feels good. Her thigh in between hers and wrapping around her bottom leg, urging Golf Ball to bring her leg in between her thighs as well. To intertwine them.
Golf Ball thinks Pencil’s thighs are warm and long. Way more boney than they should be and all the same still perfect. She runs one of her hands down to Pencil’s waist tugging her impossible closer. Before whispering, “I’ll be here. I won’t leave you, you can fall asleep.”
As Pencil’s eyes flutter closed for the last time that night she thinks maybe she’ll be okay. As long as Golf Ball stays.
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