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It's been a day; it's been a long day; it's been a hard long day. I do not consider myself one to complain, I'm not usually this burnt out on a typical day but my legs feel like jelly after walking up and down the never-ending stairs of my factory endlessly retrieving parts. Yellow Face is a reasonable dealer from time to time however he is still incapable of bringing it upon himself to bring them to me. But no, I have had to retrieve them myself individually as the metals are far too heavy to transport all at once. Tennis Ball is currently off-duty with the flu and was unable to help me today.
My ears are screeching like a fire alarm, the consistent buzz my machines broadcast is still as migraine inducing as when it began. I forgot to eat today, my throbbing brain was too hyper-focused on more valuable priorities than to consider self care, I'm frequently told off for this cycle by you-know-who. He wasn't around to remind me today like he usually does. This has made me come to the conclusion today, I think I require assistance more than I once thought I did if this is going to be the feeling I must face at the hands of being responsible for my own well-being. I shall never admit this though, I am too arrogant, admittedly.
'It doesn't do anything good for me.' I think, my stomach is screaming like an erupting volcano and I wince with discomfort. Quite a walk back to the hotel before I can make myself an actual meal.
The birds squawk above me obnoxiously, it's around mid-evening and the sun is only just setting. Naturally, having an extremely demanding schedule I miss the daily scheduled mealtimes I'm supposed to be attending with my team, I steal the leftovers when I can be bothered to do so. Donut is so used to my tendencies that he labels them in the fridge for me himself, he hasn't been happy about my lack of care for the team. He just doesn't understand the responsibility I have upon my shoulders, me and Tennis Ball hand-crafted the phones they use on the daily; the least they could do is show some gratitude.
Now that we're down to a handful of contestants in the competition, things have been more peaceful. I loathed having to deal with the hustle and bustle of trying to establish my own space in the hotel amongst 41 other contestants, very often I'd sleep in my factory as to not have to deal with the noise. But again, the buzzing. I did not sleep much back then, now that I have more room to breathe I have been catching up on this privilege.
I would love some sleep now, I think this to myself as I'm entering the doors of the hotel. The toasty air hits me like a blanket and my mind softens for a moment, I'm not even thinking about eating anymore. All I want in this moment is to slip into something warm and hibernate for a few hours.
My peace is interrupted as Donut treads up to me, on his face beholds a stern expression and I feel like a scolded child in his presence as much as I hate to admit how much it phases me. We haven't been on the best of terms since that horrendous storm, neither has the weather apparently. I can hear the hail begin to crash down on the window, They're practically the size of ping-pong balls; how ludicrous!
"Golf Ball, you arrived back in good timing I guess," He murmurs, his eyes drawn to the window rather than my face. "Actually, no. It's bad timing because we just ate dinner, you could've finished 20 minutes sooner and maybe actually joined us for once." His words are so predictable I tune him out at this point, the world is full of so many irritating sounds that I don't care to listen to. I can't really help it though, my senses are sort of attuned in ways I wish they were not.
"Sorry." I grumble, my eyes reluctant to meet his.
He sighs pitifully, scratching his head. "It's fine, I saved you some, it's in the fridge."
I don't care to give him a 'thanks', quite frankly I'm feeling a little light-headed but food already feels unappetising. My feet pick up a quicker pace, heading for the elevator.
"Golf Ball!" He catches my attention once again.
"What is it?" My voice is practically groaning.
"Aren't you going to, y'know, eat?" His tone insists he's looking for an obvious answer. However, his presence has killed my appetite, brutally.
"Later." I deadpan, hopping into the elevator before he can get another word in.
The door closes abruptly, my fingers reach for the button instinctively as my body relaxes. Finally, a moment of silence. For just a moment I'm finally alone.
"Uh, bad day?"
I recognise this voice immediately, I wish I didn't have this voice engraved into my mind. It's not a person anyone could ever forget about though, she gets off on that for definite. Pencil's the sort of person who you'd notice first in a crowd of people, even at a sold-out concert you would find her and her intoxicating emerald eyes. Her hair is still obnoxious like it once was years prior, although she's cut it down to her shoulders in a way that's clearly uneven. It's still that kind of bottle blonde only she could suit. You'd be able to see her naturally brown roots if she didn't keep her pink cap practically super glued to her head, I don't think I've ever seen her without it.
Her fashion sense seemed more deliberate back in BFDIA, nowadays she just wears comfort wear like the rest of us when around the hotel. She's not happy, I don't know if she ever was happy but it's very clear to me that nowadays she is completely miserable. She's only on time to challenges around 30% of the time, she isn't willing to cooperate with anyone and she hasn't created or strengthened any new bonds since rejoining the game a couple of months ago.
She stays in her room a lot, I hear her grieving regularly but I didn't want to intrude, it isn't my place. I'm not a friend, I think, to her I'm still an enemy. I cannot get through to her in that way.
So why would she want to get through to me?
"No." I respond, leaning against the walls of the elevator as my exhaustion makes it difficult to withhold my balance.
"Right, so you just look like shit then." She teases, I really don't care to give her the time of day. My brain is brimming with thoughts and feelings. Not to mention I genuinely have a strong dislike for elevators, they're cramped and clammy and the air always feels impure especially when you're sharing the small space with other people. Clicking the button for the second floor, I'm desperate to get out as soon as possible.
We stand in silence, you could cut the tension with a knife. The history we have is not history I like to reminisce about.
"You're so dull nowadays, you'd at least stick up for yourself when we were younger." She whines, her arms folding in on each other. She has a point, but I am like a phone with zero power left, I'm running on an empty tank.
"I recall you having friends when we were younger." I bark back, "Maybe everyone is finally done with you." the moment I phrase these words I quickly deduce I've pressed the wrong buttons.
"You have no right to say that to me." She speaks with aggression but I can tell her heart is hurt, I feel a twinge of guilt. "Do you really think you're above me?"
When is this elevator going to start?! Avoiding any eye contact with Pencil I turn to face the opposite direction. I'm twiddling my thumbs like a child as the seconds pass; I get some relief when I begin to feel the elevator rising beneath my feet.
Abruptly, I'm lifted by my collar and I instinctively squeal, Pencil in glaring into my soul with her signature scowl.
"You gonna answer my question?"
I'd rather do anything else than answer her question, but in that moment it feels like I have no other option, that is until my thoughts are interrupted. The elevator makes a harsh rattle which forces Pencil to let me out of her grip, I fall to the ground before the moving contraption comes to a halt. When we expect the door to open it comes to no avail and the door remains tightly shut. It's either this elevator is extremely slow or, unfortunately for me, we're stuck. Stuck in a tiny, cramped container with no way out.
Pencil scoffs, her expression appalled, she immediately heads for the door trying to peep through the tiny gap between either side of the opening.
"We're stuck." She mutters, surprisingly her demeanour is scarily calm considering the situation we're in. I, however am not so regulated, how can I be? What if we find ourselves in the rare situation of rotting to death in this container? What if I starve to death before we are possibly freed? My breathing is inconsistent at the thought, my hands trembling from a mix of low blood sugar and pure dread. I long for my bed at this moment. I want quiet, I want the warmth of my bed, I want to sleep. My brain is overstimulated enough with all the anomalies I've had to face today. Curling up into a ball, I tune it out, pretending I'm somewhere else.
"Uhm, Golf Ball?" Pencil waves a hand in my face, I slap it away instinctively. My eyes are tightly closed, sealing my vision shut.
"Look, there's a big red button right in the middle of the elevator button panel, see?" I can hear her heavy footsteps grow quieter as she treads to the other side of the elevator and presses it before returning, she takes a seat next to me. "All we need to do is wait a little while and Two, or whoever, is gonna come and get us out."
I'm hardly listening, at this moment all her voice is to me is another sound, like the buzzing of my factory or the chattering from the lobby of the hotel.
"You-" She pauses, "Okay, I'm trying my best okay? I don't know what's wrong with you, can you just chill out?!" I'm finally registering her voice once she snaps. Realising what I'm doing but not being able to help it bothers me, in this very moment crying it out in my room is not an option. Whenever I cry, it takes a moment before I come to realise that my eyes are brimming with tears. I can tell instantly today though, seeing the way Pencil's eyes instantly soften. Pencil will terrorise me for the rest our lives after this, my dignity is long gone.
"Are you crying?" She obviously must be trying to tease me, I turn my back to her, my fingernails scratching into my forearms instinctively. I loathe this feeling, I loathe this elevator, I loathe her. I'm so exhausted in every single way, I feel as dead as a doorknob but my mind won't settle.
Feeling a sharp tug I try to jolt her away, her fingers forcing their way to intertwine with mine as she gains a tight grip of my hands.
"Hey, don't, you're hurting yourself." She whispers in a firm tone, "You're hurting yourself." She repeats and I slump back into a deflated posture, my breathing still irregular. She doesn't understand, this must seem so small to her, a minor inconvenience to her day. It's the end of the world for me, I'm like a smashed plate that'd been chipped at one too many times. My hands grow sweaty in hers, but she doesn't let go, her grip never weakens.
"I know I'm the last person you want, but I understand, okay?" She finally lets me go as I begin to gain control of my behaviour, but her eyes are still drawn to my every move as she moves to sit beside me, "I have panic attacks, and I know these emotions you're feeling seem huge but you'll feel better. It just takes time."
Not being able to verbalise any of my thoughts, I simply lean against her, closing my eyes as if I'm waiting for the walls to close in. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, she doesn't say a thing, we sit in comfortable silence for a while until I can wrap my head around the situation. Pencil presses the red button for help, obviously we're not going to get out of here ourselves. It's probably going to be a fair wait before that happens though. My body is weak with nausea, mainly from hunger, I'm certainly lacking nutrition considering my habits. I can't help but lean against Pencil, my eyes are constantly drooping and yet I'm unable to sleep most nights.
"You look ill." She declares, her voice nonchalant despite her concern, "You didn't come for dinner. You never show up at all at mealtimes."
I'm able to give a perceivable response, if a little shaky. "I don't like your implication, I'm fine, just incredibly busy."
"No wonder this happens then, huh?" Pencil shakes her head, "I know you can't help it, but I think at least some minimal self care would make it easier for you."
"Since when were you helpful?" I grumble, having an obvious dislike of admitting when I'm wrong.
She tutts back at me pitifully, this is much more like her. "Excuse you!" She exclaims theatrically, reaching for her bag and pulling out a granola bar. "This should hold you over, don't say you aren't hungry."
I huff, but I don't refuse. I scarf it down as I don't have any dignity left to lose, she doesn't comment on it although I'm just as irritated by her smug face. We chat for a while in a surprisingly civil manner, learning things about Pencil that I would've never expected.
-
"You're that good at math?" My eyes glimmer with interest, although considering her tragic backstory I'm beginning to put the pieces together prior to her explanation.
She rolls her eyes and rewards with a firm strike to the ribs by her pointy elbow. "You really think after six years of algebra class that I'd still be stupid?"
"You couldn't spell the word orange in 6th grade."
She scoffs, her hold on my shoulder firmer. "I'm bad with words. But, I'm really good with numbers."
I hum, retorting with a short nod, "Well, you seem good to me."
"Quit flirting with me, it doesn't suit you." The cramped space is brightened for a moment with the sounds of our hearty laughter. Staring at the view in front of me, I pause. How long has it been? Seconds, minutes, hours, at this moment I have no concept of time. Does no one know we're here? Is no one going to help? I can't bear the thought, so much so that I don't realise I'm cowering. Hearing Pencil sigh, I cringe, resting a head on her shoulder. She isn't frustrated though, smiling. And not that shit-eating grin her face usually beholds in my presence, just a comforting display. It makes me feel warm inside, which is oddly discomforting.
"You're okay." She shuffles closer to me and pulls out her phone. "I pressed the emergency button five minutes ago, see? Someone will come and get us out."
"I know that!" I snap at her, my eyes black with exhaustion. Groaning comically, my posture slumps. "Sorry."
"It's fine, I just think-" She's cut off mid-sentence by an ear grating bang as the elevator door slams open. A green aura is cast around the edges of the door which makes it obvious who came to our rescue, seems about right considering this is their elevator. Two smiles sheepishly, we both sit there unimpressed but I'm still swift to scramble out of the door. I let out a sigh of relief as I'm able to breathe in a less stuffy source of oxygen. Pencil follows me out.
"Sorry guys," Two chuckles, letting the door free, it slams shut and we cover our ears with our hands at the deafening sound. "This elevator has really been playing up since the first challenge, this is probably the fifth time this week people have gotten stuck in it."
"Would it not be adequate to close it off then?" I ask rhetorically, facepalming. "That was an unpleasant event."
"You're right, I've just been pretty busy lately." They say this, but everyone knows they've been using their time exclusively for Gaty. "Sorry again!"
Two quickly skedaddles before either of us can get a word in, Pencil scoffs, clearly appalled. We share a mutual smirk before making the short trek back to our respective bedrooms.
"You aren't still paranoid about that, are you?" She's walking on eggshells around me, I despise that, "I have melatonin in my room, if you want some."
"I'm good, you don't happen to have any snacks though, do you?" I'm embarrassed to ask, but by this point I'm genuinely ravenous and a granola bar won't give me body strength for more than an hour or two.
"Yeah, Four and X's food is dog shit; snacks are practically the only thing I live off of." She grabs my hand, my face flushing a discoloured shade of pink as she drags me to her bedroom.
But maybe, just maybe, we can be friends. Friends after 16 years of feuds and fights.