Chapter Text
Nothing was the same at Gardenview anymore.
Change had come, like everyone thought it would. The tides had turned, like everyone said would happen. Everything was different, like everyone expected.
And yet, a sense of dread clouded Squirm’s mind every time he thought about “it”.
“It” was a frightening idea…one he didn’t even want to address by name. Something so repulsive, so petrifying, that just thinking about it left him flinching slightly in fear.
At the end of their “golden age on stage”, as some of the Toons liked to put it, Squirm and his friends had experienced the unimaginable. The cartoonish, naive happiness and joy of their existence quickly degraded to endless torment and pain. The misery they had all been subjected to was truly indescribable. The only thing the bookworm had to show for it were scars—both ones he could see on his own body, and ones only memories could resurface. With all the madness inflicted upon his soul and mind, Squirm could never understand why anyone would try to recreate the pain that nearly ended them all.
Let alone the star of the show himself.
Looking down at the library rug he was standing on, Squirm was met with the cheerful, carefully woven smile of their show’s titular star. He was standing on a rainbow framed by a clear blue sky, spreading his arms out and laughing merrily.
The frown came to Squirm’s face before he could stop it. While Dandy’s cartoon self remained eternally cheerful—always happy, always glad—the same couldn’t be said about the Dandy he knew. Or the one he thought he did, anyway.
Several months ago, their “star” had called a gathering of all the Toons in the base’s lobby, including Squirm himself. To say he’d been surprised was an understatement; he almost never got called to anything important. Of course, Squirm already knew he wasn’t winning popularity contests around Gardenview, but it still hurt to know that the other Toons—his former friends—would just leave him out like that. With the others focused more and more on whatever it was they were discussing, they naturally had less time to hang out with him. As a result, he often spent his time alone in the library, with no one to talk to or read with. That was why, when Dandy cheerfully tapped him on the shoulder that day, he had almost fainted from joy. Had his friends finally noticed he was missing? Would they finally start including him again? He almost couldn’t wait for the meeting to start, and even smiled for the first time in weeks as he waited to be called down.
Finally, when the announcement came over the loudspeakers, Squirm had wasted no time in bounding down to the base lobby, where he found the other Toons already gathered and chatting excitedly. The chairs next to Dandy’s makeshift stage were almost all filled, and it had taken Squirm a good minute to find an empty chair. No one seemed to notice as he squeezed into the crowd, sat down in that seat, and clutched a book nervously while waiting for Dandy.
Surely enough, the rainbow flower had sauntered onto the stage right at that moment, with a cheerful pep in his step. Just like the way he was walking, Dandy had been rather animated that day—grand gestures, dramatic expressions, excited rambling and all. It seemed that he had really good news that day—something all the Toons had been craving. And so, they all listened carefully, awaiting the grand announcement they knew was coming.
That was the first time Squirm had ever heard about “it”.
The Ichor Operation.
Back then, Dandy had made it sound like some blessed miracle. A source of protection and sustainability that would keep the Toons alive, no matter what horrors lay on the floors above.
“Don’t we know how dangerous the upper floors are? Don’t we loathe the fact that we have to risk death just to get what we need to survive? Think about it! It’s unimaginable what we have to go through just to get a few supplies. However, with a little experimentation and innovation, we might be able to obtain enough ichor to stay alive for decades!”
Loud cheers and hoots had instantly rung up from the crowd, which had become so rambunctious that Squirm had to clap his hands over his antennae. Looking back on it, he honestly didn’t understand why anyone would cheer at Dandy’s idea so naively. The flower hadn’t even told them what the operation was! And yet, several Toons had bounded up onto the stage as soon as the news came out, asking about the operation and what they could do to help. Dandy answered all of them rather vaguely, in Squirm’s opinion. However, the vagueness somehow didn’t register in even the more inquisitive Toons, such as Brightney and Rodger. No, they had gone right along with Dandy’s plan like it was the best thing in Gardenview.
Why was Squirm the only one who had opposed this at the beginning? Was everyone so tired of their situation that they would go along with whatever Dandy said? It didn’t make any sense!
They had been perfectly fine. He was sure the ichor situation couldn’t have been so bad…right?
Reeling back to the present, Squirm clutched his head slightly. Ugh…it hurts thinking about this. He thought, blinking a couple of times. He suddenly caught sight of a giant red book, sitting enticingly on the shelf in front of him. Maybe I should just—
But a hand was slapping away his own the moment he reached for that book.
“I thought I told you not to do that anymore, Squirm.” someone scolded him.
Squirm flinched as he came face to face with Brightney, who stared pointedly at him as she wheeled a cart of new books over to the shelf behind him.
“Ah…s-sorry, B-Brightney,” the bookworm stuttered, shuffling nervously. Oh, how he wished the floor would just swallow him up. “I-I promise I won’t do it again…”
“That’s the fifth time you’ve said that this week,” Brightney sighed as she began putting the books on the shelf in front of her. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem to be doing this more than usual…”
“I-I have…?” Squirm asked.
The lamp Toon nodded. “I wonder…did something upset you recently? You know you can tell me if anything’s bothering you.”
Everything’s been bothering me, Squirm wants to say. But, knowing how Brightney felt about the operation, he knew she wouldn’t understand.
Brightney had supported “it” from the beginning. She was, in fact, one of its biggest proponents, which was a huge shock for Squirm. To him, the lamp Toon had always been intelligent, knowledgeable, and logical enough not to engage in any of Dandy’s plans without a thorough explanation first. Even when the show was running, she was highly skeptical of the flower and his true motives. “Never trust that Toon blindly,” Brightney once warned Squirm. “He’s got something sinister behind that smile.”
And yet, Brightney’s actions as of late had been nothing but hypocritical. Where was his old friend? The cautious one? The one who always thought thrice before doing anything? Day by day, Squirm found that Brightney was acting less and less like the Toon he had known, and more and more like a shadow of a living soul. A sense of dread fell over him, heavy and oppressing, as he watched his best friend slowly shrivel away. Back when they could still be called friends, Squirm had allowed himself to believe that, even when things got worse, Brightney would always turn to the most beneficial action for all the Toons in Gardenview, no matter what happened.
He had been wrong, and he wanted nothing more than to let his old friend know that, but, at the same time, he also knew what would happen if he ever let his true feelings be known.
So he clamped his mouth shut. “N-no, n-nothing.”
Brightney briefly side-eyed him. “Good, but I hope I won’t be catching you eating my books again. Now, why don’t you go to the lobby? I bet there’s lots of things you can do there instead of…being here.”
Squirm nodded sheepishly. “O-of course, Brightney,” he replied, meekly trudging away. A sigh was all he got in response as he closed the colorful double doors of the library behind him.
—
As he made his way through the colorful lower hallways of Gardenview, Squirm took his time to observe the various faded pictures and posters on the walls. He came across three “Showtime Panic!” posters, five “Stage Fright” ones, and a couple of seasonal promotions as well. All of them were dusty, and some were even covered in ichor. A further testament to their age, and a reminder that the happy days of Gardenview’s past were far behind him now.
Squirm sighed. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he had actually liked it when the show was still running. Of course, with his timidness, he had a more-than-healthy dose of stage fright, but performing and acting had given him purpose. During those days, he wasn’t just some sad bookworm roaming around the library and eating books. He was a performer, an actor, a source of joy for the children who came to the museum. Squirm had been overjoyed to receive such special attention, and did his genuine best to make sure all the children left happy and satisfied with their experience.
But the best part about it was that the other Toons had treated him like he actually belonged.
He was included in pictures, posters, and conversations. He played fun games with the others in their free time. He even joined Brightney’s book club with Astro, Razzle, and Dazzle. And despite all the obvious shortcomings in their creators’ care for them, he still misses those days when they were all working together, playing together, and being happy together.
He misses those days when they were all still friends.
The rebellion had certainly taken a toll on the Toons’ relationships. Some maintained close connections, such as Rodger and Toodles, but at the same time, many of them began to distance themselves from each other. They were no longer being ordered around by humans, like they had wanted, but at the same time, they were not used to living so autonomously. Each Toon had their own unique idea on how to preside over things at Gardenview. As a result, disagreements began to take root soon after the rebellion. Those disagreements soon evolved into arguments, which soon evolved into silence, which soon evolved into a heavy tension that sat between everyone at Gardenview. The Toons still talked to each other, but they had to be careful with their conversations—one wrong word could end you up in a fight, if you were unlucky. Many Toons got especially upset if the rebellion was mentioned, so they all tried to avoid the topic as much as possible. This also meant, however, that they all tried to avoid the Toons that weren’t their friends as much as possible, and the hallways, formerly cheerful and chattery, were filled with an oppressive silence. It was a heavy price to pay for freedom, and Squirm often found himself wishing things were back to the way they were before.
Quiet footsteps startled the bookworm out of his reverie, and he turned to find a certain music box Toon walking towards him, recognizing him immediately.
“Hey, Squirm. Doing alright today?” the Toon asked, offering a small smile.
“O-oh! Um…h-hi, Boxten,” Squirm stuttered. “I-I could be doing better, I suppose.”
Boxten sighed. “I understand that…I haven’t exactly been the best as of late, either.” he replied, staring down at his feet and shuffling nervously. “Didn’t get much sleep last night…or the night before that. Or the night before that…”
“Oh no! A-are you okay?” Squirm asked, his face drooping into a worried expression.
“Yeah, I’m fine for now,” Boxten told him, giving him a sheepish smile. “But don’t worry about me. Anything bothering you as of late?”
This was something the music box Toon always did—he directed the conversation away from his well-being whenever it came up, and despite his belief that it wasn’t obvious, Squirm always noticed it right away. But, looking at Boxten’s tired expression, he knew it wasn’t the right day to pry, and so he didn’t.
“Well…Brightney’s b-been bothering me a little.”
The words left him before he could take them back.
Boxten seemed just as surprised. “Really?” he asked, wide-eyed. “I thought you two were the best of friends.”
Shut your big fat mouth and don’t say anything else, Squirm angrily scolded himself.
Don’t…reveal…anything…
“I-I thought so too, but that was us b-before the rebellion. S-she would always l-let me hang out in the library and w-we’d read b-books together. I-I was even in her book c-club! R-read every book she gave me…she liked having me a-around then. B-but things changed! She’s m-much sterner with me when I e-eat her books now…a-and she doesn’t even w-wanna HANG OUT WITH ME A-ANYMORE! I-”
His voice broke on a sob. Then, before Squirm knew it, big, fat tears started streaming down his cheeks—he couldn’t even talk through the whimpers he was letting out. He tried to cover his face with his hands but, in the end, it was pointless. He had just badmouthed one of his best, and only friends in the world, in front of another Toon. It was so unlike him to do so, and he didn’t know what had gotten into him. Boxten was likely shocked—repulsed, even, and Squirm wouldn’t blame him for it. He wasn’t exactly as close with Brightney as Squirm had been, but he was still an acquaintance of hers. And if he were to tell her what he had said, Squirm surely deserved it.
A hand softly touched his shoulder, but the bookworm didn’t look up. He assumed Boxten would tell him what a terrible Toon he was, how awful of a friend he was, and threaten to tell Brightney everything. Or that, even worse, he would just walk away. Walk away, annoyed by his incessant babbling, and abandon him—just like Brightney had.
But, instead, to Squirm’s utter surprise, Boxten wrapped his arms around him in a warm, comforting hug. He remained in shock even as the other Toon closed his eyes and squeezed, just letting him hang there for a moment.
Then, the music box said two words Squirm so desperately wanted to hear:
“It’s okay.”
And he broke.