Archive of Our Own

It’s their game, part of the process of helping Spoke. Apologies never came easy to him, and that’s okay, because Mapicc usually doesn’t need an apology, he needs Spoke to stop being guilty.

“That’s not a table,” Spoke tells Mapicc, early in the morning, over breakfast on their table.

“Oh yeah?” Mapicc hums, mouth full.

“Reddoons killed my pet cat named George Jr,” Spoke continues, tense. Mapicc pauses, then nods. 

“That’s okay,” he offers, looking at Spoke’s cereal instead of his face. “…That’s not cereal.”

Spoke relaxes, so Mapicc takes another spoonful of his own food. At least his has milk.

“That’s not a spoon,” Spoke says absentmindedly. Mapicc opens his communicator, processing the little detail. He almost forgot about Spoke’s base raiding phase, almost forgot about Reddoons and Jaron.

“You put milk in your cereal,” Mapicc lies, and Spoke huffs.

“Because soggy, drippy cereal is really good,” he responds, giving Mapicc’s bowl of milk-soaked cereal a look.

“Mmm, I love inhaling cereal dust,” Mapicc teases, and it’s at that point the game ends, because Spoke laughs. That’s his goal. The truth, without guilt.

“Okay, no more game, Mapicc,” Spoke giggles, and makes a loud crunch with his next dry bite.

“Youre still weird as hell for that, by the way,” Mapicc informs him. Spoke makes an indignant noise, cut off by the front door opening. Mapicc smiles at the way Spoke’s wings casually flare. He’s not making himself quieter, anymore. At least, not as much.

“What are you two trolls doing?” Minute asks with a huff, hanging up his coat jacket. Negative aura.

“Having fun,” Spoke answers brightly, following Minute with his head, eyes alight. Mapicc can’t believe that this is Spoke, that he’s actually healing. He has– He has his support systems now. He has Mapicc and Minute and Jumper and–

“Uh-huh,” Minute responds, giving both of them a look. “Well, it’s raining cats and dogs. Jepexx said he’s dying.”

“Jepexx can die,” Mapicc scoffs. Spoke leans back in his chair, giggling. 

“I told him to hang out with Flame,” Minute says, then shakes himself out.

“Minute you’re–” Mapicc starts, eyes immediately narrowing.

“You’re splashing ussss,” Spoke complains, but all Minute does is laugh. It tastes something like healing, that Minute doesn’t listen to their complaining. 

-

“That isn’t grass,” Mapicc starts. Spoke blinks, and looks over. Mapicc nods at the ground, free and flowing and definitely grass.

“Oh,” Spoke says, because that means they’re playing the game. He scans around, observing. “That’s not a violet.” 

“You can’t make lemonade out of those,” Mapicc supplies, which has Spoke beaming. They made violet lemonade just yesterday with Pangi and Zam, brushing against each other and making a mess and– It was domestic. It was so normal. Spoke forgot he could have that.

He scoots closer to Mapicc, which Mapicc responds to by leaning into his lap. Spoke laughs, all bright and happy and… safe. Safe.

“I don’t know you,” Spoke lies. It feels a little too close to the truth, because what does he really know about Mapicc? What does he know beyond how Mapicc takes care of him? Skeptical, Mapicc narrows his eyes, then shifts his face down to push his horns into Spoke’s chest.

“No you don’t,” he agrees, reassures, all heavy. “And I don’t know what the sky is.”

Like those two things are equal, like they’re both so inherent. Mapicc does know what the sky is, so maybe Spoke does know Mapicc. God, he loves Mapicc. A lot. He owes Mapicc maybe everything.

“You’re smart as hell,” Spoke grins, and Mapicc pulls back, glaring with a smirk. 

“No I am not, bro. If anything, you’re the smart one.” Mapicc responds, nudging Spoke, who bursts into chittery giggles.

“No more game. You’re funny,” Spoke beams, gaining control of himself. For the most part at least; he can’t help the dopey smile, ‘cause that’s just a byproduct of Mapicc. His bestfriend in the whole world.

“I am, too– That’s the thing most people don’t realize, actually.” Mapicc smiles all proudly, corners of his mouth smugly upturned. “And I am smart, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Mapicc got him out of Unstable, to be fair. That was pretty smart.

“You’re my favorite person ever,” Spoke says, another fact, just this time it’s not hidden behind anything. Mapicc laughs and laughs and laughs. It only serves to make Spoke happier, a giggling bestfriend on his chest like a blanket.

-

Spoke is a very non linear person. He does just about everything in a weird way, mixes up the order of steps. It’s why they cook together.

“Okay, pour the vinegar into an egg–” Spoke starts, and Mapicc gently moves to stop him from dumping vinegar onto an egg, just straight over the counter.

“That’s– That’s not an egg,” Mapicc says, caught between warnings. Spoke pauses, then grins too-wide at him. 

“We aren’t baking,” Spoke continues, watching Mapicc.

“Okay bro,” Mapicc laughs, then holds Spoke’s hands over the bowl where the liquids are gonna go. “The next step isn’t to crack two eggs.”

“Oh, eggs are– Or, eggs aren’t first?” Spoke blinks, positioning to crack the eggs. 

“Nope,” Mapicc confirms, popping the ‘p’. Spoke hits the egg he’s holding down on the side of the bowl, and breaks it open. Mapicc reaches in to fish out the shell fragments while Spoke grabs the next egg.

Minutes later, Mapicc is almost too late to stop Spoke from pouring the flour-sugar-baking soda mix into the liquids. They eventually make some banger scones though, which is pretty awesome if you ask him.

“These look absolutely disgusting,” Mapicc hums happily, and picks one up. Spoke immediately copies him, and makes a rattly, hollow purr noise as he takes a bite.

“I’m not thanking you,” Spoke declares, mouth half full. “It doesn’t make me happy when you do that.”

Mapicc smiles, and bites the scone. Yeah, peak. It’s really a 70% chance they cook up something pretty good, but the other thirty percent is Spoke’s weird greasy milk cookies. 

“Well, it’s very hard for me,” Mapicc gets out after he swallows his bite. Spoke continues to purr softly, and Mapicc moves over to the cupboard to rummage for a plate they can put a few scones on. “I’m not wondering if we should–”

“I hid the armor in my echest,” Spoke interrupts, and the purr falters. Mapicc looks over his shoulder, and sets a plate down carefully on the counter. 

“What armor?” Mapicc asks, trying to be openminded. Spoke swallows, and stops purring. 

“Um. The spy armor. I hid the dead spies’ armor in my echest.” Spoke clarifies. This could be fine, another minor lie, or it could be something that could’ve gotten someone killed. Mapicc breathes, and fully turns around.

“Where didn’t you hide it?” He questions patiently. Please don’t be something dumb.

“With Quackenstein. And BeckyTron and Trucksandtrains.” Spoke clips out, purring entirely gone. Mapicc freezes the second he hears even just the first name.

“Spoke– No more game. You kept– Spoke.” Mapicc says, frowning. Innocent players. That doesn’t make sense. Why? Why would he..?

“I’m– I–” Spoke tries, breathing picking up. Right, sensitive. Mapicc sighs, but is quick to reassure.

“Spoke, look at me.” He instructs, staring right into Spoke’s soul. It’s entirely unnecessary, ‘cause Spoke hasn’t looked away from him this entire conversation. Mapicc takes a deep breath. Spoke’s not a hassle, but he’s hard to reason with, and even harder to understand. “I’m not leaving. I still love you, bro. Just– Is that why Leo went after them? 'Cause the armor?”

Unsaid is the ‘is it your fault this family was uprooted twice?’

“No, no no no, he–” Spoke rushes, tripping over his words too much to be the truth. Mapicc gently corrects it, keeping his face supportive.

“No game,” he reminds. Spoke swallows, and his wings flutter. Mapicc has to fight to stay relaxed.

“Okay.” Spoke says very quietly, then looks away, down and off to the side. “Um, yeah. Yeah. That and Leo saw me care about something weak.”

Spoke wrecked this family twice, then. Banned a child’s sister on a lorelocked server. He left a father with one child, and then he nearly cut that number down again.

“Spoke bro,” Mapicc breathes. Why? What made Spoke think that– What reason? Did he want to get rid of evidence that IMajesticRose ever died? Or was he trying to help? It–

“I– Mapicc, they would’ve– they would’ve wan– understood that–” 

“It was a bad decision.” Mapicc states, prompting. Spoke stalls mid-cope, finding Mapicc’s eyes, then frowns and starts squirming.

“... Mapicc,” Spoke begins, looking away. 

“Yes it was. C’mon.” He goades, still stuck on the question of why. Maybe he’ll never get to know. There’s a good chance Spoke doesn’t know either, looking anywhere but Mapicc’s face.

“Don’t. Don’t– Don’t… Mapicc you don’t understand, you don’t get it, I had–” Spoke tries to reason, grasping at straws. He obviously regrets it in his unique, mostly selfish, way if he’s covering it up this much. Patience is power; Mapicc will get him to apologize.

“Spoke.” He cuts off, firm. Again, Spoke freezes and meets his eyes. For a second, Mapicc’s heart aches, and he almost regrets pushing Spoke like this. He just looks so… scared. He looks scared, and he looks small, wings pressed slightly too close to be casual.

“Please.” Spoke breathes. 

“C’mon. Look, I still– Everyone’s still gonna love you, even if you make bad decisions.” Mapicc insists. Spoke has to regret something like this, has to give a form of apology. It’s barely even something for Mapicc to get upset over, yet here he is. 

“Mapicc,” Spoke whines, but Mapicc stays silent. It immediately has the desired effect, and Spoke’s eyes widen impossibly further, nervous. “I’m s– It was a bad decision. I’m– I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was a bad thing to– to do– Mapicc, come on, I’m sorry, please don’t– Don’t– Mapicc. Mapicc Mapicc, Mapicc please–”

“Hey, hey there you go, you’re fine,” Mapicc soothes, leaning forward and dragging Spoke into a hug. He can prevent a spiral, or at least slow it down. “There. Good job. You regret it.”

“I do I do I do, trust me, I’m–” Spoke gasps in a breathe, shaking under Mapicc’s hold. “Sorry. ‘m sorry.”

“You’re o-kay, dude. C’mon, you’re safe here. We wouldn’t be hugging if we weren’t safe. I forgive you.” Mapicc assures, wiggling around to hug under Spoke’s wings. 

“Okay,” Spoke whispers, still tense. “Okay.”

“You’re okay,” Mapicc hums distractedly, finding and pressing the space between Spoke’s wings, under his shirt. In just a few ticks, Spoke loosens up, untenses in Mapicc’s arms, and falls forward. “Theeere we go. Good– uh, good,, good work. Nice.”

In response, Spoke breathes into Mapicc’s shoulder. When Mapicc squeezes tighter for a few seconds, Spoke lifts his wings, and they get the luxury of a wing hug, which is increasingly more common every day they’re together and not in Unstable.

He still has no idea why Spoke would ever think to do… that, but he apologized. Mapicc’s– He signed up for this. He’s signed up for this every day he’s not left Spoke’s side. It’s, well, to be honest it’s kinda hard to cope with, but also. Loving Spoke is practically Mapicc's native language, so any hardships are worth it. Easy to feel, not so easy to enforce.

Especially when Spoke lets down his walls like this. Especially when Mapicc gets a wing hug. Especially when Spoke apologizes– everything is worth it, it’s all worth it, when Mapicc can see Spoke grow. Loving Spoke is easy, to Mapicc at least. He’ll make up for the parts Spoke falls short. 

-

“Breathe– Spoke, bud, breathe. C’mon, you’re safe.” Mapicc urges, desperate. “Come on, Spoke, please man. Breathe. You know the drowning respawn sucks, boy. Just breathe.”

Mapicc’s begging, and Spoke can’t do it. Maybe just because he’s such a rotten, horrible friend. All Spoke does is take and hurt and he never helps, can’t even make himself breathe for Mapicc. 

“I– Mapicc, Mapicc, I’m–” he gags, leaning over and clutching his stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so– Mapicc, I– I don’t know– I–”

“Breathe dude. C'mmmon, c’mon, you’re gonna be a-okay, alright? Just breathe bud, c’mon. In and out– match me.” Mapicc instructs, then slowly takes a breath in. Spoke can– He’s a good copy, so this won’t be– Mapicc breathes In two, three, four, five, pause, then out two, three, four, five.

“Mapicc, I– I– I don’t know how to,” Spoke whines, heaving another breath in. Mapicc sinks onto the floor next to him, and pulls him slightly upright. When their eyes meet, Spoke just wants to cry more. He was horrible and manipulative to Mapicc, to those eyes and that face and– 

“I’m gonna hug you now, okay?” Mapicc informs, but before Spoke can even start to think of a reply, Mapicc drags him forward, and they fall into each other. “You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Spoke gasps out, scrabbling to get a grip on the back of Mapicc’s hoodie. “I’m– You don’t– I’m horrible, I’m evil, I– All I do is hurt you and you just– all you want is– and, and I just tear you down and–”

“And this isn’t a carpeted floor,” Mapicc interrupts, so out of left field that Spoke pauses. 

“W– what?” He asks, sniffly, but the arms holding him feel a little realer. Oh, okay. He could– He can get used to this.

“And we’re not in our house,” Mapicc continues, keeping his tone and grip firm. Spoke shakes with a sob, gasping down breaths and clutching onto Mapicc’s hoodie, but they’re playing, so…

“I’m not– the worst person ever,” Spoke manages between whimpering keens. 

“You are,” Mapicc assures him, and reaches a hand to pet down Spoke’s hair. “You’re so unforgivable. Apologies don’t exist.”

“Mapicc,” Spoke whines, body pressing up into the hand without permission. 

“Game over. No more game. You’re okay, see?” Mapicc hums, rocking them gently back and forth. “We’re fine. Breathe.”

“You’re– You’re supposed to be mad. I– I destroyed your–” Spoke grasps, then cuts himself off with a groan. “Fuck, what’s the– I mean... You’re not mad?”

“Dude, of course the hell not,” Mapicc says, like it’s easy, like Spoke didn’t make both of them tear their everything out of Unstable, like Spoke didn’t nearly kill Mapicc– Mapicc doesn’t know that. Maybe that’s why. If the thing with Quackenstein upset Mapicc, then how will he react to Jamato being alive? 

“You don’t… even know everything,” Spoke forces out, shaky all over. “How could you–”

Mapicc’s hand pauses in Spoke’s hair, then tugs, just a little, but enough to have Spoke’s breath catch as he whips back into his own body. If he upset Mapicc– Don’t leave. Please don’t–

“I will,” Mapicc hums, self assured. When Spoke tries to argue, his throat produces an embarrassing whimper. “You’ll tell me. And you’re gonna apologize.”

And then Mapicc slips his hand down to the back of Spoke’s neck, and leans away. All Spoke does, all he can do, is stare. What is he supposed to do but look into his unrightful bestfriend’s eyes, red and intense, like a hueshifted lava, what else? 

“You don’t–” Spoke tries, but stops as quickly as he started, because Mapicc’s eyes narrow. He’s already on thin ice, he doesn’t– can’t–

“And I might get mad. You might reveal some bullshit, and I’ll probably have every right to be pissed, to be honest.” Mapicc continues, which makes Spoke want to squirm. The hands all over him stop him from doing that. And then Mapicc leans closer, turns both of their heads, and presses their cheeks together. Spoke can’t help the shaky, hesitant purr that builds in his chest. This is Mapicc, his Mapicc, his favorite person in the whole wide world. “But I dragged you off of Unstable, dude. Like, that wasn’t easy.”

“I didn’t mean t–” Spoke starts, frowning, but Mapicc gives a warning noise, so he shuts up. 

“I know. But I don’t– I dunno, dude. As long as you apologize, and– Honestly, if you just prove you won’t do it again, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could make me, like, not fuck with you.” Mapicc says earnestly, offering a quiet smile.

Spoke… doesn’t know how to respond. Mapicc loves him, and the reminder almost gives him a headache. A love headache. 

“I don’t love you,” Spoke squeaks out, surging forward and knocking Mapicc over, wings flaring in an instinctual attempt to slow the fall.

“I don’t love you too,” Mapicc laughs, hands on Spoke’s shoulders. “My Spoke.”

“Mapicc,” Spoke breathes, high pitched and simple. It’s Mapicc.

-

Two and a half months clean from Unstable is a nice day. Not amazing or anything, but definitely not horrible. Mapicc made Bacon cook breakfast for them, which was noodles with some freak shit, then spent the rest of the day wandering around and talking to various people. The memories he was previously locked out of now come as easy to him as blinking, which makes conversations a lot easier. Now he knows things about these people, like how Jepexx owes him ten dollars for a bet from like three years ago. For some unknown reason, Jepexx has not been seen around the Mapicc and Spoke base.

“It’s not windy out,” Spoke says the second Mapicc opens the door to their base. 

“Now why the hell are you standing in our doorway?” Mapicc raises an eyebrow, skeptical. Spoke shifts on his feet, wings twitching. Oh, shit. Serious.

“I don’t wanna talk to you.” Spoke explains, eyes wide and focused on Mapicc. What is he holding?

“...Oh-kay…” he acknowledges, and steps fully inside, closing the door. “This isn’t a door.”

“You– You don’t forgive me,” Spoke states, prodding, like he’s just double checking. 

“I don’t,” Mapicc confirms, wiggling out of his outdoor hoodie. “Hannah isn’t busy.”

Spoke stiffly hands Mapicc the thing he’s holding, still staring. Hey, it’s his hoodie.

“Oh shit, th– no thanks. Is what I meant.” Mapicc flashes a smile. Spoke, wires crossed as they are, gives a hesitant, awkward and forced smile back. Mapicc snorts, and starts moving towards the couch, throwing his outdoor hoodie over the back. Spoke, of course, follows him like a duckling. A very out of it duckling. “Not your turn.”

“Not a bookshelf,” Spoke provides, standing up straight while Mapicc drops himself onto the couch. Something is up today, Spoke definitely wants to tell him something important. He tries to prepare mentally. “Not your turn.”

“You should Not sit down somewhere,” Mapicc smirks, patting the couch beside him and setting down the hoodie Spoke handed him on the side. Spoke’s face doesn’t change, but his eyes suddenly get very conflicted. “Buddy.”

What Spoke decides to do instead of sitting next to Mapicc, is sit three feet away. Uhh…

“Dude, we don’t– or, we have to–”

“JamatoP is dead.” Spoke interrupts uneasily. Mapicc blinks, processing. “Leo killed him.”

What?

“Spoke.” Mapicc says, giving his friend a careful look. This isn’t what he thinks it is, right? No way Spoke would… “What happened with Jamato?

“Leo killed him,” Spoke says, chest starting to move too fast, too shallow. Mapicc’s a little caught up to deal with that. 

“Who didn’t–”

“Me.” Spoke blurts, joining his fists in his lap and looking down. “I didn’t– I didn’t… pretend to be Leo.”

“You what?” Mapicc asks, jarred. “No more– Game over. Spoke, what?”

“Sorry.” Spoke chokes out, rigid. “He– He– I thought–”

“Jamato’s– You lied?” Mapicc pushes. He doesn’t know why he’s so– so outwardly surprised that Spoke lied. That’s the whole point of this exercise, to reveal Spoke’s lies. 

In response, Spoke nods jerkily, just once. Mapicc doesn’t… 

“What? What dude?” He breathes, looking around the room, because Spoke is hunching. “And you– Spoke, dude… What made you think that was okay?”

“He took you,” Spoke answers quietly, voice rough and small as he looks up at Mapicc. “I– He took you. And he said–”

“He saved me!” Mapicc exclaims. “I would’ve been dead–”

“I was pulling your pearl,” Spoke pleads, lurching forward. “He told me– He said–”

“What’d he say?” Mapicc huffs. 

“He said that I never change– Mapicc, he said I wasn’t supposed to find you, he– he–” 

“So you faked his death? So you told me and Zam he was dead.” Mapicc argues, going flat. “Yeah, great job dude, you really–”

“Mapicc, don’t– I couldn’t’ve– You guys wouldn’t– He took you, and he didn’t want me to– He knew, he knew about all the– He knew about some– Well, some bad things I did in the past, and he wanted to–” Spoke looks away, posture going too casual.

“What’d you do?” Mapicc presses, and Spoke absolutely freezes, eyes snapping back to Mapicc, body cautiously following after a beat. 

“I–” Spoke stutters, then swallows, and sits up straighter, the most obvious attempt to look put together Mapicc’s ever seen. “He said– Told me that I’m the– I was the root of all evil on Unstable, and he– he took off his armor and threw his totem and said– he said to– he– he forced me– I–I didn’t–” 

Spoke pauses, slouching and deflating. Mapicc gives him the time, personally stewing. 

“He took off his armor after telling me I was worse than the Mafia, unequipped his totem, and told me to kill him.” Spoke says, low. Well, Jamato isn’t dead, apparently, so.

“And you didn’t?” Mapicc questions, raising an eyebrow. Spoke’s eyes turn hauntingly desperate, then harden.

“And I did.” 

That– That makes no sense. Hello?

“Did he have like–?” Mapicc blinks, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“He put on a totem at the last second. I don’t–” Spoke laughs bitterly and puts a hand against his collar, a tell of nerves. “I don’t think he expected me to– to, y’know. But I did, Mapicc, I did, and– Maybe it was all on purpose. Maybe he just wanted you to– wanted to give you and everyone a reason to– to like, leave, or whatever and he knew I couldn’t just pass up–”

“Spoke,” Mapicc calls, and Spoke blinks out of it. “We’re on the chill server.”

Spoke takes a second, then nods exaggeratedly. “Yeah. Yeah. I– Yes.”

“Wait. So you were– And Jamato just left?” Mapicc asks, disbelieving. That doesn’t seem plausible.

“He teleported away.” Spoke nods, frowning, but it doesn’t look like a lie. Maybe Mapicc’s getting bad at reading him. “And then I– I faked… I did all that stuff with the carts and…”

Mapicc breathes. Spoke lied and attacked them, for no reason. Or, for a reason, just a stupid one. His bestfriend is the most contradictory person he’s ever met, Spoke makes no sense ever. None of what he’s saying is logical or practical or– or reasonable at all. Mapicc doesn’t get it. 

And, again, he knows he probably never will. That doesn’t stop him from asking. 

“Why would you– What did Jamato do? Why did you try to kill him?” Mapicc asks, pressing his fingertips to his eyelids as a brief respite. Spoke steels himself again.

“Mapicc…” Spoke starts, soft. The tone instantly makes Mapicc open his eyes, dropping his hands away. Thankfully, Spoke isn’t looking at him with a weird delusional face, he just seems… worried. Anxious, maybe. “He– You were…”

Spoke trails off, twists around to put his tail in his lap as a fidget. Mapicc practices patience, which he feels like he’s only been getting worse at lately. Eventually:

“You were like, everything. You… I didn’t know like, like who I was without other people. With you, I mean, I could– You acted normal. You acted alive, and I could, like, play off of that and stuff.” Spoke finally explains, twisting his tail fur around. Then he pauses, and looks up, meeting Mapicc’s eyes with false readiness (his chest wavers in its breath, that’s how Mapicc knows it’s false). “You meant– Mapicc, you were the only thing keeping me sane. And when Jamato– When I thought that someone took you–”

Spoke chokes on a sob, voice cracking with emotion. He clears his throat, looking away. Still kinda wild to be the ‘only thing keeping someone sane.’ Neither of them asked for that, but they both know how much it weighed. ...Weighs?

“Sorry. When you were gone, I didn’t tell you, but– I almost– I nearly blew up Capital City, I was– I–” Spoke loses his train of thought, but wait wait wait, he what??

“Pause. You tried to blow up..?” Mapicc pushes, knitting his brows and blinking.

“Parrot stopped me,” Spoke explains, looking just to the side of Mapicc’s face. 

“I– Okay man. Yeah, keep– Go ahead.” Mapicc prompts, adding that to his mental logs.

“But I just–” Spoke takes a deep breath. At least he knows how to cope slightly. “I guess– I guess I was manic. And… Jamato was the one who taught me the exploits. I thought he was back and he– I– I had just lost you, and that was basically– You were keeping me steady, and then the one who– and then he showed up and I– I wasn’t… I couldn’t deal with that. So that’s why I… That’s…”

“You’re just casually– Jamato was the one who gave you your chestplate? He’s– That’s how you knew each other?” Mapicc interrogates, jaw practically on the floor. He tries to recall the conversation way back when they were raiding Zam and Ro’s shared vault like a year and a half ago, something about an old friend, Spoke saying he made a mistake, the friend left… Or something? 

“Yeah,” Spoke answers. “And then I went too far, and I–” Spoke pauses, hands tightening in his tail fur. “Um.”

Mapicc waits, because he’s patience like that. Not really. But for something, someone like this, he can be. For Spoke telling the truth, Mapicc can wait. They’re both fighting their natures. After a few moments of quiet, Spoke nods to himself, but doesn’t loosen his grip on his fur.

“I tried to build something, but he got mad at that and he left. And him leaving…” Spoke swallows, shifting on the couch, wings shuffling. “You know I’m not good with being alone. And for a while I– I was. I– It just… it was bad. It was bad.”

“Did you try to blow up a city?” Mapicc presses. “I remember that we blew up the vault after–”

“I tried to kill myself.” Spoke interrupts, very, very quiet and very, very small. 

Mapicc freezes. He didn’t know that. He didn't know that, Spoke is his bestfriend, and he didn't know that.

“...What?” He asks, only a touch less soft than Spoke’s tone. Spoke doesn’t look up from his lap, holding his own hands, oddly still, given who he is.

“I… tried to…” Spoke trails off, wings twitching with discomfort.

“Spoke,” Mapicc whispers, pleading. He wants that to be– He doesn’t know, a lie? He wants– He wants Spoke safe, is the main thing. He wants Spoke safe and happy and absolutely not recounting how he almost killed himself.

“I can– There's a line that connects the concept of me to player data, and it’s hard to cut it, but not impossible. I could’ve– I wanted to– There were worms in my wires, gorging themselves on neurons and stardust, and I thought– ...When you’re sad, when you’re as hopeless and unnatural as me, it’s just logical, it makes sense to try and carve yourself open. I thought that if I could cut myself in half, or do a vivisection or something, then maybe I could figure out what was wrong.” Spoke breathes, like it’s been bubbling up for years. He sounds insane. He is insane. “I thought I proved myself wrong, when I was… exploiting. I was somewhere important, I belonged, I had a place, I wasn’t so different from every other thing.”

“Spoke,” Mapicc says again, trying to bleed his love all over. Spoke shakes his head, and doesn’t look up.

“I know. I know, I know, I know now, but back then– Back then, Jamato left, and I was different and– and– and Mapicc, the Universe says that if you’re really, truly different, then you aren’t a part of the grand everything. I just– I wanted–” Spoke chokes on his words again, shaking with a sob, but he still doesn’t meet Mapicc’s eyes. It takes all of Mapicc’s willpower to let Spoke finish, instead of cutting him off in a hug. “It’s like– It’s like how– I wanted to feel alive. I wanted to be alive and feel like it and I didn’t know how to do that like a normal person, so I took the wire that makes me SpokeIsHere, and I–”

Spoke collapses in his own lap, wracked with sobs. Mapicc holds back, refrains from touching, because that’s not what Spoke needs. Spoke needs to tell his story, stop holding it in. He wants to, though, he wants to grab Spoke tight and tell him that Mapicc won’t leave, no matter how mad he gets, he won’t ever leave permanently. 

“So close. I was–” Spoke gasps in a breath, shaking his head against his tail. “Almost almost almost, I almost died, I almost tore the connection– Almost–”

“You didn’t,” Mapicc reminds, trying for a gentle tone. Spoke sniffles, bringing his arms up to hug himself, but stays hunched.

“I didn’t.” He agrees wetly, then leans up to wipe his face, hands curled into fists. “I don’t know why. But um, I didn’t. And I was kind of expecting– I raided one of Ro’s vaults, and I kinda tried to get banned. But then I met you, and you were–”

Everything, Mapicc fills in mentally. Spoke said that earlier.

“You were a translator. I could talk again. It was like– Like parts of me that couldn’t talk to each other suddenly could. And breathing and living was… not easy, it’s never been– Um. But it was easier.” Spoke explains, and finally looks up to join their gazes. He seems hopeful and crushed at the same time. “So that’s why… I mean, you know what…”

“You tried to kill Jamato because you… You were– You thought you were saving us.” Mapicc slowly confirms. Spoke flattens his lips, but nods once. Mapicc sighs. “Got it.”

They go quiet for a couple minutes, then. Mapicc’s trying to process that sudden dump of information, working his way through betrayal and mental illness and exploits and everything else Spoke drags around like a corpse. It’s insane. It’s deranged. It’s fucked up and unforgivable. It’s, unignorably, Spoke– it’s his bestfriend. His Spoke. 

If it’s Spoke, Mapicc doesn’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t forgive. And that’s dangerous, like, super dangerous. Spoke is not mentally okay, and Mapicc isn’t at all equipped to help. Spoke wanted, maybe wants, to die, and that’s just not at all something Mapicc can help with. He knows how to fight, and he knows how to tease, and he kinda knows how to provide, but he’s no therapist.

And they’re offtopic as hell, but Mapicc hasn’t forgotten the way Spoke lied to him, lied for a month or two about Jamato being dead, about ‘Leo’ attacking. That’s not okay, either. His actions reflect his mental state pretty well, huh? Mapicc’s pissed. He’s pissed and disappointed and betrayed and he still loves Spoke.

“You were wrong. And I don’t forgive you,” Mapicc starts, then leans forward and reaches for Spoke, who looks away and tenses up and seems scared, but doesn’t shrink back. "Yet."

“Sorry,” Spoke says quietly. Mapicc puts his hands on his bestfriend, who goes still, not daring to breathe. “Sorry.”

“But I still love you. Even though I’m pissed.” Mapicc continues, and coaxes Spoke to fold into him. “Even though I don’t forgive you.”

“Mapicc,” Spoke whispers, voice breaking even as he ghosts his hands up Mapicc’s back. “Mapicc.”

“You messed up,” Mapicc reminds him, and the grip suddenly solidifies, tugging at his shirt. 

“Mapicc–” Spoke keens, pushing up and pulling away just enough to meet Mapicc’s eyes, desperate. Mapicc lifts his hands, snakes one into each slit of Spoke’s shirt for his wings, and just holds. It works to cut off whatever plea Spoke was about to make.

“But you know that,” Mapicc ends off. Spoke nods, still staring up at Mapicc with wide, dark eyes. “Say it.”

“I know that. I messed up and I know I did and I’m– Mapicc, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I never– I didn’t mean to– I– I– Mapicc, Mapicc Mapicc Mapicc Mapicc, please, please don’t– Please– Mapicc–” Spoke rushes out, tripping over himself to the point Mapicc’s pretty sure he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. That’s okay. It’s the effort that matters.

“Good,” Mapicc cuts off, and shoves Spoke closer, turning to give him room to breathe. “You’re good, dude, you’re good.”

Spoke sniffles, and curls on Mapicc’s chest like a kitten.

“We’ll get there,” Mapicc promises, massaging the spot where Spoke’s wings meet his spine, which earns a quiet whimper. “We’ll get there.”

-

It surprised Spoke, how fast he can get better. How easy everything actually was– or, not easy, but simple. Uncomplicated, as in he didn’t need intensive therapy or a lobotomy, all he needed was–

“Mapicc?” Spoke calls softly, slinking into Parrot’s house. He’s been remembering more of Lifesteal lately, and Season 4 is a little… Well. He’s happier with at least one relationship in its Unstable form. 

“Oh, hey Spoke,” Parrot greets, and both he and Mapicc turn in their chairs to face Spoke. “What’s up?”

“Hey Spoke,” Mapicc greets, tone easy, just a little cautious, eyeing Spoke with knowing worry. 

“Um, hi. I– Can I take Mapicc for a second?” Spoke asks Parrot, dragging his eyes away from Mapicc. Parrot’s eyes aren’t hidden behind a mask (something Spoke’s getting used to), so when he frowns, Spoke can actually see his eyebrows move. Unsettling, a little. There’s bigger things to worry about, though. Like how Spoke feels his skin too much.

“Of course,” Parrot volunteers, looking at Mapicc. “Do you want me to–”

Mapicc turns to Parrot, face out of Spoke’s view. Maybe Spoke doesn’t have object permanence, because his heart starts beating faster. Mapicc can’t leave. 

“I think I should go,” Mapicc tells Parrot, ears twisting slightly. The pink clip Spoke gave him on Unstable is still on Mapicc’s right ear, which steadies his heartbeat enough to take a less shallow breath. “Keep the food, it’s all good.”

With that exchange, Mapicc pushes out of his chair, and faces Spoke. Mapicc. His Mapicc. His Mapicc. 

“Alright, and um, Mapicc,” Parrot begins, getting up too. Mapicc meets Spoke, then turns to Parrot with a quiet hum. Spoke’s eyes can’t stop darting around the room, but he catches Parrot give a nod. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. Stay safe, dude.” Mapicc offers back.

“Yeah, you too.” Parrot sends off, and Mapicc drags Spoke through his door. 

The second it shuts, Mapicc slides his hand up to Spoke’s back, maneuvering around wings, throwing his arm up, and drawing them closer. Spoke relaxes, not sure when he tensed so much, and they start walking home.

“What’s wrong?” Mapicc asks, straight to the point. Spoke suppresses a shiver. The answer is that he doesn’t know. He just felt… weird and– and wrong and all non-player and– “Breathe.”

“I am,” Spoke answers too quickly, drawing his breaths out. Normal breathing. Player breathing. “I am.”

“I believe you,” Mapicc says easily. “Keep that up, bro. Doing good.”

The idea of trust, of easy belief, has Spoke’s heart stuttering. Mapicc believes him, Mapicc– Mapicc.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mapicc asks again, snapping Spoke’s thoughts back like a rubber band. 

“I– I don’t… It’s like the surface tension of the water I was drowning in never broke, sometimes I–” Spoke rushes out, pulling himself back from the edge. He’s a Player. The Universe loves him, Mapicc loves him, so he swallows, and takes a breath. “Sometimes I feel like there’s a layer of water between me and the rest of the world. It’s like I can’t even breathe like a player.”

“Yeah, and it’s not spring,” Mapicc jokes, nudging Spoke. Spoke looks over at him for a second, notes his side profile. He looks healthier, which is enough to make Spoke want to cry from relief and joy and jealousy. “You can breathe.”

“I know, I know that I can, but it just feels like I can’t. Like I’m a– a stranger to my own body.” Spoke groans, tensing his arms and facing forward. Being a deity and possessing the love of millions, Mapicc brings his hand up to Spoke’s neck to make him relax. 

“Then get to know yourself, man,” Mapicc shrugs, then breaks into a grin. “I’ll even start you off bro, you like when I do this.”

“That’s scary,” Spoke says without thinking. “That you– I mean, that you know me so…”

“Well, I mean, I am like your caretaker bro,” Mapicc offers, carefully pulling them apart enough to avoid the rock that Poafa refuses to move from the path, something about landscape balance. 

“Mm.” Spoke hums, not sure about that. Caretaker.

“Your caretaker, Your Mapicc,” Mapicc prompts, and immediately Spoke’s breath gets caught up, steps faltering. 

“Mapicc,” he manages, slightly frantic, then hastens to complete the phrase. “Your Spoke. But Mapicc–”

“So I can introduce you to yourself. Your favorite color is this hot magenta color. You call it pink, but it absolutely is not pink.” Mapicc continues, flicking his tagged ear in a subtle but definitely intentional way. 

Spoke decides to shut up, and let Mapicc do this. He still feels like too much to fit through the semipermeable membrane of normalcy, but having a translator helps. 

“And you’re the quietest breather I’ve ever met, by the way. I swear, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, worried you aren’t breathing.” Mapicc huffs, nudging Spoke. Spoke’s mouth quirks into a smile without his permission. “Other than that, you’re pretty simple to take care of.”

With that, the smile fades from his face. Take care of. Mapicc… shouldn’t have to do that. Aren’t they here to heal? Is Mapicc healing?

“You make me do your hair, and you always use the same hairties. You got them from your mom, remember?” Mapicc asks, and they both climb the steps to their house.

“Yeah,” Spoke says as Mapicc opens the door for him, detaching. “And my bandana.”

“See bro? You know yourself.” Mapicc assures as Spoke steps inside. He easily kicks off his shoes, since he didn’t tie them to go over to Parrot’s house, then slips out of Mapicc’s way. 

“But I’m still– I don’t feel like me, like, my skin still feels like someone else’s. Y’know?” Spoke tilts his head at Mapicc, who shuts the door and watches him. 

“Not really,” he admits, but walks over.

“Oh,” Spoke says, a little dejectedly, then Mapicc starts crowding Spoke against the table with gentle nudges.

“But,” Mapicc begins, and pushes Spoke’s chest backward, forcing him to sit on the table. “W. But I’m pretty good at making your clothes fit, and honestly, how different are skin and clothes?”

“I don’t wear leather,” Spoke says plainly, watching Mapicc take off his hoodie. He reaches for the bottom, then lifts it overhead. It’s like a reverse waterfall. Kinda. From the right angle.

“Don’t lie. You steal my shit all the time.” Mapicc scoffs, setting his hoodie down on Spoke’s side, just in a tanktop now. “But that’s okay. Here, look.”

Mapicc lifts a hand and slides Spoke’s shirt down his left shoulder, showing off a vaguely hook shaped scar he got from–

“You remember this one? Minute felt so bad when we told him.” Mapicc pokes, tracing down it. Spoke holds his breath at Mapicc’s soft touch. He can be fine about this. 

“From– It’s from the spikes on Minute’s– his mace.” Spoke nods, which gets a smile from Mapicc. He likes when Mapicc smiles. That’s his bestfriend, his– Mapicc cuts off whatever Spoke was thinking by reaching out and grabbing Spoke’s left wing. “Uh.”

“Here,” Mapicc hums, folding Spoke’s wings in just the right way to get them to lean forward. Maybe Mapicc really does know his body better than him. “You got this one– Hey, we’re matching. You remember that one mafia member? With the sweeping edge exploit?”

“They dealt twice the damage,” Spoke recalls as Mapicc lifts his own tanktop, showing off a twin scar to Spoke’s, two slashes.

“Yeah, ‘cause they hit twice. That was annoying.” Mapicc agrees, and presses Spoke’s wing back into place like the leg of a robot. Do his muscles work like hydraulics? It kinda feels like it, honestly. “See? You know yourself.”

Maybe Mapicc didn’t mean it like this, but the memory of pain slowly brings Spoke back into his own skin, no more weird offset. He remembers Mapicc’s scars too, like the one under his arm from the one fight with Mane, where Spoke failed about as bad as he could’ve. But he means– The point is that… Spoke knows Mapicc, like how Mapicc knows him. The point is they know each other because they’re each others’. That’s the point, that to some degree, if you know Mapicc, you know Spoke. And Spoke knows Mapicc, because the sky is blue.

“We almost got scars that led into each other, but they just healed,” Mapicc comments, hands finding a clean part of Spoke’s body– or, clean of scars at least– under his shirt.  

“From– Was that from BAT?” Spoke asks breathily. 

“Close, LAW.” Mapicc corrects, then slips his hands out from Spoke’s shirt. “So, you have scars. Are you back yet?”

“No,” Spoke lies, and then almost chokes. “I mean– I’m–”

“You’re okay, I can–” Mapicc attempts to soothe, but Spoke shakes his head.

“No, sorry, I– Um. I’m… I feel better, I feel–” Spoke cuts off that train of thought. Honesty is the best policy, communication is key. “I want– Can you like, um, keep going?”

Mapicc tilts his head slightly, then smiles.

“Sure Spoke,” he accepts easily, then leans back, thinking. Spoke likes a lot of things about Mapicc, but he’s adding ‘the face Mapicc makes when trying to think of things about me’ to the list.

After a few moments, Mapicc’s eyes regain that focused sheen. 

“Well, you’re cold, for one,” he says, grabbing Spoke’s hands with his own, and guiding them together. Spoke clasps his hands, Mapicc puts his warm ones over Spoke’s cold ones. God. Mapicc, Mapicc. “Oh my god dude, we need to get you hand warmers.”

“I don’t feel cold,” Spoke informs Mapicc, honest for once. He’s getting better at that. Mapicc laughs, and shakes his head.

“Okay, well you also don’t feel hungry when you don’t eat, so either you’re weird, or your body’s bad at talking to you,” Mapicc huffs, leaning down and unclasping Spoke’s hands from each other. Obediently, he lets Mapicc bring his hands to Mapicc’s face, which is, as always, very warm. “Genuinely the freeze monster.”

“Then you’re the burn monster,” Spoke retaliates, smushing Mapicc’s face.

“You’re funny,” Mapicc laughs, leaning back with the joy of it, dropping their joined hands but not letting go. “You bite your nails, too.”

“Yurp,” Spoke agrees. Mapicc stays standing right in front of him, all but glowing.

“And you barely know how to hold a sword.” Mapicc continues in a rapid fire. Spoke squirms a little, unable to look away from the burning sun that is his bestfriend. "And you eat cereal without milk. And you suck at cooking, but you're learning."

“Um,” he manages around the anxiety of being known. 

“And you like raspberries because they’re Parrot’s favorite fruit. And you pretend that you aren’t, but you’re actually super sweet. And you’re Spoke, so you’re safe, and you are loved.” Mapicc finishes, looking at Spoke with the prettiest most heartfelt red eyes in the world. Spoke feels almost sick. It’s okay that Mapicc knows every piece of information about Spoke that has ever existed, knows more than Spoke does about himself, but saying that– Telling Spoke that he is loved…

It’s too much. Too vulnerable, too revealing. Like someone cut into his side and drew his guts out to use as a paintbrush to his blood. 

“This isn’t our house,” Spoke blurts in defense, primally afraid of being perceived.

“Okay, then you aren’t loved,” Mapicc picks up, tone gushingly warm. Spoke’s gonna pass out. To help him do that apparently, Mapicc shuffles closer and takes Spoke’s face into his hands. okay. that’s fine. “Then you aren’t my favorite person in the whole world, and you’ve never worried me, and there’s literally anything that could make me hate you forever and unconditionally. I don’t love you, then.”

“Mapicc,” Spoke exhales reverently, suddenly understanding priesthood, devotion clicking into place like a leash clipping onto a collar. 

“Spoke,” Mapicc answers easily, brushing his thumbs across Spoke’s face. god. he gets it, spoke really gets it.  “You aren’t amazing, you aren’t sweet, you aren’t worth your weight in diamonds, you aren’t my bestfriend, you aren’t mine– Spoke, if you aren’t loved, then you aren’t you. That’s how serious I am. I love you.”

What? What?

How does he respond to that– How can anyone respond to meeting god? How did the first human feel when god took one of their ribs, reached inside them and ripped something out and made it look beautiful?

Spoke knows Mapicc has to be divine, because only a god can reshape someone so much that they love themself. Mapicc is the Universe, Mapicc is teaching him how to be loved, and, more radically, how to love himself.

“I’m easy to love,” Spoke whispers, turning his face into Mapicc’s hand just like in the Mafia. 

“No more game, Spoke,” Mapicc says, and trails his hands down to Spoke’s side, grabbing him into a hug. It’s so nice. “You are, you are. And if you can’t believe that you’re easy to love, then at least believe that any difficulty is worth it, because you’re you.”

He kind of feels like sobbing. He’s worth it, and it has to be true, because it’s Mapicc who said it. His bestfriend, his Mapicc, his god, his whole universe, the person holding him gently, holding him like a container, somewhere he can melt into and still hold a shape; still be real. Only a god can anchor someone’s unreality– only mapicc. maybe just mapicc.

“Say it,” Mapicc hums. Spoke blinks up at him, curious and open. He loves Mapicc so much. He’ll do anything, he’d burn cities, say the stupidest shit ever, kill and die and live and– “Say you love yourself, and mean it.”

“Mapicc,” Spoke chokes out like a prayer, because he isn’t a god, he can’t make himself believe anything. Mapicc tilts his head, smiling. “Mapicc, I’m…”

He’s hoping for Mapicc to pick up in the silence, but he stays quiet. Spoke settles into the silence, adjusts to it. It’s nothing bad, because he has Mapicc and Mapicc loves him.

“Spoke.” Mapicc reminds, firm. Spoke puffs his wings out, then takes a shaky breath. Mapicc wants him to do something, so he’ll do it.

“Just–” Spoke starts, then gulps and wets his lips. He’s been asking for so much today, what’s one more thing? He’s always been greedy. “Again? Can you say…” he can do this. “Can you say you love me again?”

Mapicc snakes one arm up Spoke’s side, settles a hand on his face that Spoke can’t help but lean into. Mapicc tilts their heads opposite ways, staring into Spoke’s eyes and fuck, that’s spoke’s home, that’s his bestfriend-universe-god. He’s staring at Spoke like a mama goose watching its baby learn to fly, like Hercules watching Atlas drag the first sunrise into the world, like he’s witnessing the first harnessing of fire. Being looked at like you’re the reason stars exist, why light exists… 

Spoke’s never been looked at like that. No one looks at anyone like that, this is the first time anyone anywhere ever has held that much appreciation and kindness and welcoming and warmth and heart and generosity and soul and– and love in their eyes. Leave it to Mapicc, his Mapicc, to be the first.

“I love you,” Mapicc tells him, words falling like comets, leaving impact craters across Spoke’s code. It fills just about every hole he’s ever had in him, every issue he’s struggled to fix.

“I love me too,” Spoke says with veneration, like reciting a prayer, a confiteor, and he finds that he means it whole heartedly. He loves himself. The look in Mapicc’s eyes blooms and flowers and then suddenly Spoke’s being lifted from the table and spun around, and he doesn’t mind at all. 

“I love myself. I do. I do.” He repeats, wings flaring out as he captures Mapicc’s eyes and swallows the look into his own. “I love you and I love me and I love us and I–”

“I love us too, I love us too, Spoke,” Mapicc beams, wobbling back in place as he finishes spinning and sets Spoke onto the floor. He squishes Spoke’s face between his hands and drags Spoke down to press their foreheads together with the biggest smile ever recorded. Spoke can’t help but mirror it, and put his hands on Mapicc’s neck. “You’re sweet. I told you, I told you you’re the sweetest, bro.”

“It’s a Mapicc exclusive,” Spoke assures, closing his eyes and nodding. Mapicc laughs like he just discovered how to, which is among the most beautiful things Spoke has ever heard. Then he yanks Spoke into a hug, and Spoke covers them with his wings. Mapicc’s tail finds his, and they twist around each other before Spoke can have a first thought.

“You love yourself.” Mapicc breathes, squeezing Spoke extra tight for a second. It tastes like relief when Spoke discovers the feeling hasn’t gone away, allowing him to be honest when he says:

“I do.”