Chapter Text
Mornings were usually the same.
Sometimes, toons would wake up at the crack of dawn, carrying their bellowing voices down the halls, paying no regard to those who were trying to get their beauty sleep. Their laughter would bounce off the walls, loud and careless, doors opening and closing without thought, footsteps thudding past as if the whole place belonged to them alone.
Other times, the mornings would be slower, where everyone would be roused by the smell of a sweet breakfast trailing down the corridors as if the scent grew arms and knocked on everybody’s doors individually, pleading, “Wake up! Wake up! It’s time to eat me!” It would curl under doorframes and linger in the air, warm and inviting, coaxing even the most stubborn sleepers out from beneath their blankets, if only to peek outside and see what had been made.
Sometimes, Glisten hoped he could sleep forever, to have moments without his plastic facade, to finally rest in his peace. Or, he would wake earlier than the yelling toons or the delicious scents to wander Gardenview uninterrupted, when the halls were still and quiet and everything felt untouched, like the world had been paused just for him.
Those mornings were rare, but he carried each one in his heart like a precious jewel, kept and concealed away, cherished for him and him alone. He would turn them over in his mind on harder days, polishing them into something softer than reality.
But now, there was simply no time for his blissful mornings, and nobody had the energy to cook breakfast, and everybody would rather isolate themselves from the perils outside than cause banter among themselves. The halls stayed quieter for all the wrong reasons, and the silence didn’t feel peaceful anymore, only heavy.
Glisten had been staring at the ceiling for ages now. He had to get up at some point.
He rolled onto his side with a grumble, his eyes flickering across his room. He had what must have been five mugs strewn across his vanity and bedside table, the nearest one still half-full with coffee from the night before, a thin film settled over the surface. Paper was crumpled into balls, tossed carelessly anywhere but the inside of his bin. A faint, bitter smell clung to the air. He knew he had to clean up at some point, and there was no good out of being a slob. But it also seemed that he was getting more tired by the day, and that he really had no time to get up to anything anymore, not even the small, mundane things that used to come so easily.
He had worked extensively on trying to get his teleportation right. Night after night, he would practice, pushing himself just a little further each time, ignoring the dull ache that settled behind his eyes. Sometimes, if they were up to it, he would ask one of his friends for help.
Usually, it would be Rodger who would volunteer. At first, he would be fascinated by his ability to move like it in the first place, watching closely, asking questions that Glisten didn’t always have the answers to. But his curiosity would be quickly extinguished by his worry. “Stop working so hard, you’ll pass out,” would be his usual protest, voice firm but never unkind. Glisten would brush him off every time. With the times the way they are nowadays, he would rather have a headache than be completely hopeless.
.oOo.
One day, he had found himself in one of the reading rooms, on a floor far below the Centre, mindlessly browsing through their limited collection of books. He had taken a note to sort the books as he read them over the months, putting his favourites on the right side so he knew where they were for the future, a quiet system that only he understood. Nobody else had ever read them. He could tell by the dust that had piled on the spines of the books, and how frail the pages were, how they threatened to tear if handled too roughly. The room itself always felt untouched, like a place forgotten by everyone except him.
Out of all the people he worked with, he was usually one of the freest, with a few too many spare hours on his hands. Rodger had once offered to help him pick up reading and handed him one of his favourite short stories, no longer than a hundred pages. That one had been his favourite.
Perhaps it was his favourite because of the plot.
Or, perhaps, it was because someone had involved him in an interest they had.
After all, for once, it felt like something had been shared with him instead of observed from afar.
He had been trying to hold what must have been four books in one hand at once, stacked unevenly, their worn covers slipping against each other. He wanted to try and make himself a goal to read as many as he could by the end of the month, something small and achievable, something to fill the empty hours. Just as he had slotted the final one under his chin, adjusting his grip carefully so nothing would fall, he heard a voice speak up from behind him.
“Glisten? Are you here?”
He jumped so severely that all the books he had meticulously stacked in his arms had fallen to the ground with a clatter, the sound echoing far louder than it should have in the quiet room. Glisten grumbled and raked a hand through his hair to push it back before kneeling over to pick up the books he had dropped, gathering them as gently as he could.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he mumbled back, trying to scoop up the delicate books without letting any of their spines bend. He glanced over his shoulder to find Rodger wandering through the halls, his figure appearing in the doorway. He hadn’t expected him to be down here.
“Oh, there you are,” he said, a wave of relief washing over his face and seeping into his voice. He picked up the pace to where Glisten was, and bent over to help him pick up the rest of the books and pass them to him, careful in a way that suggested he had done this sort of thing before.
“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?”
Glisten pushed himself up off the ground and huffed quietly. “Yeah, but it’s fine, I guess.” His voice cut off as he tried to restack the pile in his hands again, the books shifting dangerously, but Rodger stopped him before they could slip.
“Ah. Let me help you with those. You act as though you’ll break out in a rash the second you need a bit of support.”
Glisten scoffed. He did not.
Still, he didn’t protest when Rodger reached forward, easing some of the books from his arms and holding them securely against his own chest, steadying the uneven stack without a second thought.
“What do you need these books for, anyway?”
“Uh… I don’t know. I sort of made myself a goal to read as much as I could before the month ended.”
“I see. I’ve turned you into a bit of a bookworm, haven’t I?”
Glisten blinked, his brows furrowing slightly, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or an insult, his grip tightening just a little on the remaining books.
“No need to give me that look. I’m happy you like to read. Maybe you could let me know about some of your favourites. I’d love to indulge in your taste.”
The walk to the elevator was quiet at first, their footsteps soft against the floor as they moved through the hallways together. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, exactly, but it wasn’t entirely easy either. Glisten found himself glancing sideways every so often, as if to check that Rodger was still there, that he hadn’t imagined the whole interaction. Rodger, for his part, seemed content, occasionally adjusting the books in his arms with a little sigh.
When they reached the elevator, Rodger stepped forward first, pressing the button with a small, practised motion. The doors slid open with a quiet hum, and they both stepped inside, the confined space making the silence feel just a little more noticeable. Glisten shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the soft mechanical whirr filling the space between them.
“I was hoping you could join us all for lunch,” Rodger said after a while, his voice breaking through the quiet without startling him this time.
“Hm?”
“Well, that was really why I came down here… Shelly and Brightney both worked together to make something nice for all of us.”
“Shelly and Brightney?” Glisten scoffed, a smirk crossing his face despite himself. “What an unlikely duo.”
“I agree. But Brightney was incredibly keen to try a new recipe she had found, and she was also adamant not to let Sprout or Cosmo volunteer… and Shelly really wanted to be included in something. So.”
Rodger nodded thoughtfully, shifting the books slightly in his arms as the elevator gave a small jolt. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know how you usually feel about these sorts of things. But if you wanted to come, I would be very happy to see you there.”
Glisten paused for a moment, the words settling somewhere deeper than he expected. He really hadn’t been that hungry. The thought of sitting with everyone made something in him hesitate. But if Shelly and Brightney took the time to work on a meal, and if Rodger had gone through every floor before this one to look for him, then it would be deemed rude for him to decline. More than that, there was something in the way Rodger had said it that made it feel less like an obligation and more like an invitation meant just for him.
“I suppose I’m up to try new things,” he said eventually, tilting his head back at him with a soft smile, quieter than his usual expressions.
By the time they reached the dining area, the smell alone was enough to catch his attention. It was richer than the usual meals, warm and savoury, something toasted and just slightly smoky hanging in the air. It didn’t creep through the halls like those soft morning scents; it sat comfortably in the room, inviting rather than demanding.
A few of the others were already gathered, voices overlapping in easy conversation, the kind that didn’t feel forced. One of the tables had Goob and Toodles seated together - a deadly duo, as always. Toodles was trying to pry a plastic fork out of Goob’s hands, with his protests and shouts overlapped by her giggles, washing a pleasant atmosphere over the room (albeit a little hectic).
Shelly perked up the moment she saw them. “Oh! You made it,” she said, a hint of excitement slipping through as she straightened slightly. “I hope you like it.”
Brightney hovered nearby, trying to look composed but very clearly watching for any sort of reaction. The table was set more neatly than usual, and right in the centre sat a plate stacked with burgers, still warm, the buns lightly toasted and glistening just a little under the light. The smell of it all was stronger up close, something savoury and buttery, layered with just enough sweetness to make it impossible to ignore.
Glisten hesitated only briefly before taking a seat, setting his books down beside him as Rodger placed the rest aside. He reached out, picking one up with a bit more curiosity than he had expected from himself, turning it slightly in his hands before taking a bite.
It was… actually really good.
The bun was soft but held together, the filling warm and well-seasoned, everything balanced in a way that made it feel like someone had actually thought about it instead of just throwing things together. He blinked once, then glanced up, catching Shelly’s expectant look.
“It’s… really nice,” he admitted, a little more genuine than he had intended.
The reaction was immediate. Shelly lit up, Brightney relaxed almost instantly, and someone across the table muttered something about knowing it would turn out fine. Conversation picked up again, louder this time, easier, like that small bit of approval had set everything back into motion.
Glisten found himself staying there longer than he had planned. He didn’t talk much, nowhere near as he would usually, but today felt like a reasonable time to observe. Every now and then, someone would say something ridiculous, or pass something across the table without asking, or bump into someone else’s arm and laugh it off like it didn’t matter.
At some point, he noticed Rodger glancing over at him, just briefly, like he was checking if he was still enjoying himself. Glisten met his gaze for a second before looking away, but the small smile he gave didn’t quite leave after.
Later, when he thought back on it, it wouldn’t be anything specific that stood out. Not the conversation, not even the food, despite how unexpectedly good it had been.
It would just be the feeling of it. Sitting there, surrounded by noise that didn’t feel overwhelming, eating something warm, with people who, for once, weren’t tense or distant.
One of those small, easy moments.
The kind you don’t realise you’ll keep until you already have.
.oOo.
From that day onward, he never ended up returning those books to his secret floor. They constantly stayed on his vanity, and he took extra care to make sure they were always out of the way so he would never have to find himself to blame for any damage to the pages. His favourite of the collection had found its new home on his bedside table, and he served it as a reminder of a life he would have been perfectly happy to keep on living. Sometimes, before he went to sleep, he would flip it open just to reread a page or two, not because he didn’t remember it, but because he did, and he liked the way it felt to go through it again.
He begrudgingly got out of bed and threw on the closest comfortable thing to wear, stepping out of the hushed warmth of his room to the fluorescent lights that constantly beamed overhead. The shift always felt just a little too sudden, like the world moved faster outside his door than it did inside it. From further down the hall, he heard the clinking of cutlery against the sink's pressure and the usual morning chatter, soft voices overlapping in a way that made the place feel lived in. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and ran a hand through his tousled hair with the other as he turned the corner.
“Morning, everyone,” he mumbled, giving a small appreciative nod.
On one of the tables were the craft siblings. Scraps seemed to be indulging in some sort of papercraft, tiny pieces scattered around her in a way that looked messy at first glance but was probably very intentional. Goob was watching her intently, his head resting in his hand, propped up by his elbow on the table, completely absorbed in whatever she was doing as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Every now and then, he would lean in just a little closer, only to stop himself from interrupting. Pebble was tucked in a cozy ball under his chair, his chest rising and falling softly, his nose twitching every so often to pick up the scents of the toons surrounding him, though he didn’t seem particularly interested in moving.
On the other table were Toodles and Rodger. Rodger had also seemed to have just woken up, his finger lightly circling the rim of his coffee mug, steam still spiralling out of the top in thin, lazy curls. Toodles was fully rotated in her chair, one hand tucked under her chin as if to protect it from the hard plastic, her tiny fingers grasping over the top of the chair. She was waving her fork with pancake impaled onto it in Pebble’s general direction, whispering, “Puuuppyyy… wake upp… have some pancaaake…”, stretching out every word like it might somehow be more convincing that way. Rodger had attempted multiple times for her to stop and let him rest, but it was evident she wasn’t going to stray from her goal, and had since given up, settling instead for the occasional quiet sigh into his coffee.
“Can I sit here?” Glisten asked, his fingers lightly brushing against the chair next to him.
Rodger glanced up for a moment, blinking before he realised who it was in front of him. “Oh! Of course, Glisten. You don’t need to ask. Would you like me to make you anything now that you’re up? I was going to wake you, but figured you might like to sleep in.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m really not that hungry,” he laughed, instead making his way to the coffee machine.
In reality, he was quite hungry. He knew he wanted to eat.
But the scale he had tucked under his bed liked to tell a different story.
The feeling of hunger was easy to ignore when there were other things to focus on, like the quiet hum of the machine as it whirred to life, or the way the smell of coffee slowly filled the cup in between his hands. He leaned against the counter while he waited for it to seep, watching the others from the corner of his eye, letting their small interactions fill in the silence for him.
Toodles had, at some point, managed to lean so far over that her chair gave a concerning creak, and Rodger reached out without even looking, steadying it with one hand before it could tip. Scraps muttered something under her breath when one of her paper pieces didn’t fold the way she wanted it to, and Goob immediately perked up, offering what sounded like very confident but entirely unhelpful advice. Pebble let out a small huff at the mention of his name, but he remained stubbornly curled up.
Glisten found himself smiling faintly into his cup before he even realised he was doing it.
He took his coffee back to the table, settling into the seat beside Rodger, the warmth of the mug comfortable in his hands. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. Just sitting there felt easy enough, in a way mornings didn’t always manage to be.
Rodger glanced over at him, just briefly, like he had something to say, but didn’t. Instead, he lifted his mug again, taking a small sip before setting it back down with a soft clink.
Toodles, on the other hand, had not given up.
“Puppyyyy…” she whispered again, stretching herself even further over the back of her chair, the pancake wobbling dangerously on her fork. “C’mon… just one bite…”
Pebble’s nose twitched.
Glisten watched, quiet at first, before a small laugh slipped out of him, softer than he expected. It felt strange, almost, how easily it came.
Rodger glanced at him again at that, this time not looking away quite as quickly.
“What?” Glisten asked, raising a brow slightly.
“Nothing,” Rodger said, though there was a faint hint of a smile tugging at his expression. “It’s just… nice to hear.”
Glisten blinked, caught off guard for half a second before he scoffed lightly, looking down into his cup.
“Don’t get used to it.”
There was a pause, not awkward, just… there.
Rodger tapped his finger lightly against the side of his mug, gaze drifting for a moment before settling back on him. “You’ve been up late again, haven't you?”
Glisten’s grip shifted slightly around his cup. “Have I?”
“You don’t usually look this tired in the mornings,” Rodger said, tone mild, like he wasn’t trying to accuse him of anything. "And you also don't sleep in so late."
Glisten let out a quiet breath through his nose, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “You’re looking at me too closely.”
“Someone has to.”
That made him pause. Only for a second.
“…I’m fine,” Glisten said, a little more quietly this time, his gaze dropping back to his coffee.
Rodger hummed, not pressing, though the look didn’t quite leave his face. “I didn't intend to provoke otherwise.”
Across the room, there was a small, triumphant gasp.
Pebble had finally lifted his head, just enough for Toodles to shove the fork a little closer, her entire face lighting up like she had just achieved something monumental.
“See!” she whispered loudly. “He wants it!! I told you he would eat it!”
“He does not want it,” Rodger said immediately, though there was no real conviction behind it.
Glisten watched as Pebble sniffed the pancake, then very slowly, very deliberately, licked it.
Toodles froze.
Then, she shouted triumphantly.
“Come on,” Rodger protested, “Dogs can’t have pancakes. That’s your breakfast, not his.” He gently grabbed her shoulder to pivot her facing the table again.
Glisten took another sip of his coffee, the faint smile from earlier returning without him noticing.
It wasn’t anything special.
Just another morning, filled with small, pointless things. Stuff he might not even remember by next week.
But he didn’t find the need to leave right away. And for once, he had no desire to.