Chapter Text
Hotel cleaning day. Objects had to clean every nook and cranny of their respective rooms that they don't often clean.
Paintbrush cleaned behind and under the bed, inside and the walls of Baxter's tank, and almost the entire wall of the room.
After calling OJ to inspect the room's cleanliness, they deliberately put a small ball of dust which had came out while cleaning the room on top of the table clock while he was coming.
They didn't like leaving dust behind while cleaning. But they needed a little fun because they were tired and bored from cleaning for hours. OJ wasn't a neat freak like Soap, but his tendency to manage meant he would nag about a small ball of dust. It seemed perfect for them to tease him when his voice cracked while nagging.
They had no real plan for when his voice didn't crack. Covering their ears would be all they could do. (Since they are a paintbrush and have no ears, so they will actually block anything that isn't ears that allow them to hear.)
"OJ, I've finished cleaning. There's no need to do more at this level, right?" Paintbrush said, holding back a slight chuckle.
"...Yeah. Good job." OJ glanced around their room with half-closed eyes, then answered with a blank expression.
OJ turned around and was about to leave their room without even noticing the dust on the table clock. The dust was hard to miss. During hotel cleaning days, he would routinely inspect every nook and cranny of the rooms belonging to those who had finished cleaning. It was strange that he had just casually looked around the room and moved on.
He certainly looked less energetic than usual.
"Hey, OJ. What happened?" Paintbrush asked before OJ had completely left their room.
OJ remained silent for a moment, then let out a small sigh as his expression turned melancholy. "It's already been three days since I've properly spoken with Paper."
They were quite surprised. Although they hadn't seen the two properly in a few days recently because they were fully immersed in safety team, but they had always thought of them as a very affectionate couple. However, even though they were surprised, they didn't think it was particularly something they needed to get involved in. It seemed like a private matter between the two of them, so they decided to just offer him some light comfort for now.
"...I see. I don't know what happened, but I imagine it's difficult for you to be in an awkward situation with him..." Paintbrush said.
“It’s still awkward… but what worries me more than that is working out how to satisfy Paper on each of the seven dates starting tomorrow.”
Paintbrush was left speechless.
'Was something wrong with my ears? (They forgot that they don’t have ears.) I’m sure he was low on energy because of the awkwardness of the past few days, whether he had fought with Paper or not. And he’s scheduling seven dates when things are still awkward?'
“Uh… so did you schedule the dates in advance before things got awkward because of a fight or something?”
OJ’s lonely expression turned solemn. “No, Paper asked me out today, on the third day that we hadn’t spoken. Do you know about the one-week date after awkward three days?”
“No…? I’ve never dated before, so how would I know?”
“You know how we sometimes make heartfelt gifts for each other? Like knitting a scarf or gloves, drawing a picture, or writing a poem... things like that. Well, three days ago... I spilled soup on the scarf Paper had knitted for me. I tried to clean the stain, but I made the mistake of rubbing it too hard...”
OJ paused for a moment, and Paintbrush, who had been listening quietly, waited for him to continue.
“The ‘One-Week Date’ that follows three days later is all about making up for accidentally ruining a gift. It gives the other object time to cool off. It’s also a chance to prove your love and regret by treating them to the best date ever. That way, they won't be sad about the incident for the whole week.”
“That sounds complicated. So, if you fail to prove it within that week, do you have to put in the effort for another week starting three days later?”
“Hmm, actually, I’ve never had it go as long as two weeks. Usually, things get resolved within the first week. If the love is there, the proof happens naturally.”
“You said you were worried about what to do on the date to satisfy him, right? So, is the ultimate goal just to go on a lot of dates?”
"It’s only natural to want to please our date, but it’s even more so this time because the date is meant to cheer Paper up after I upset him. Although love helps smooth things over, Paper gets pretty difficult when he's upset with me over a mistake. You’d understand if you go on a date after messing up. You'll find yourself instinctively wanting to lift your partner's spirits, or realize that someone upset by your mistake might act a bit difficult until you make it up to them."
"I don't have a date, OJ. Do you realize that?"
"Oh... well, then I guess you'll just stay lonely. I feel like even if you fell in love, you wouldn't realize it for at least three months." A smile crept onto OJ’s face, replacing his solemn expression. It wasn't a cheerful smile, though. It was a teasing, smug one.
"Based on what? Never mind, I’m not even curious. Surely I wouldn't have to go on a date just because I accidentally broke a 'gift of friendship,' right?" Paintbrush glared at OJ and sighed.
“Like any other date, a make-up date happens with mutual consent, Paintbrush. Whether the date happens and what the gift means depends on the nature of your relationship with the other object. Anyway, sorry for going on so long about dating when you’re all alone; I’m going back to my inspections now.” OJ left Paintbrush’s room, suppressing a laugh.
Even after finishing the cleaning, Paintbrush didn’t feel entirely at ease. Their head was throbbing, not only from being bombarded with information they didn’t really need to know but also from feeling strangely teased by OJ.
They weren’t sure exactly how this "couple culture" worked, but they certainly understood why OJ hadn’t nagged them about the dust, even though it was cleaning day. It was because the usual balance between hotel management, order, and romance had been disrupted, with his attention shifting entirely toward the romantic side of things.
After all, they were a couple. Paintbrush figured that OJ and Paper had probably planned a week-long date for an overly sweet reason: feeling that a mistake was less important than the fact not seeing each other for a few days, and wanting to spend a whole week together to satisfy that longing. To Paintbrush, love felt like a movie lacking narrative logic, where scenes would suddenly unfolded in ways that defied comprehension. So, the two scheduled a week-long date after an awkward moment was just one of those things that happen when they’re in a relationship.
And they resolved to be careful when receiving fragile gifts. A dating relationship is something that can only be established after enough time has been spent getting to know each other and building mutual affection. Dating is a privilege enjoyed once that relationship has formed. They had no desire to go on dates with someone for whom they didn't feel that level of affection.
OJ's words would likely fail to truly resonate with Paintbrush. Instead, they would simply drift away like a paper boat, eventually turning into a sodden, shapeless mess. Even if Paintbrush encountered someone they loved, it seemed unlikely that they could easily express deep affection the way OJ and Paper did with each other.
Anyway, feeling stiff from spending so much time cleaning, they were getting ready to go outside for a short walk.
"Lightbulb, what are all these piles of sticks? I wish you would clear them all away before calling me." Paintbrush heard OJ nag about the cleanliness for the first time while he had been repeating "good job" in response to objects' calls.
"What? These?! These are my reserve food!" Lightbulb said in disbelief.
"I'm sure you'll end up in the hospital soon." OJ said.
"I'm sure I won't. I always pick out only edible and healthy sticks." Lightbulb said in belief.
OJ looked at Lightbulb briefly in disbelief.
"If they're necessary items, don't leave them like this, put them in containers and store them somewhere. They're inconvenient when you're walking around or cleaning. Anyway, I won't count your cleaning as finished until you clean up all those sticks, so clean them up and call me back." OJ walked away from Lightbulb's room.
Paintbrush saw Lightbulb go back into her room, squinting her eyes and puffing out her cheeks with clearly dissatisfied.
Paintbrush felt an urge to help Lightbulb finish cleaning.
Lightbulb had never asked them for help. Paintbrush knew that excessive or unnecessary favors could actually make the other objects uncomfortable, this weighed heavily on their mind.
'Just go out for a walk.'
Nothing went as planned. They had already walked right up to her door.
Paintbrush pondered the reasons behind their desire to help Lightbulb.
Lightbulb was a cherished friend to Paintbrush.
Meeting Lightbulb and simply being with her brought Paintbrush joy. There were certainly bothersome or annoying moments, but looking back, even those times were missed.
Paintbrush enjoyed Lightbulb’s company, but they hadn’t seen each other much lately, as both were focused on their own tasks. Not long ago, Paintbrush had started working with the safety team. They had been too occupied with studying safety protocols and undergoing training, and think about anything other than maintaining safety in their current environment.
They were curious about what Lightbulb had been up to and wanted to hear all about it. Even if the conversation were to stretch on for hours—or even days—it wouldn't feel like a waste of time at all.
So, why did they want to help with the cleaning? Was it simply for Paintbrush’s own enjoyment? Paintbrush felt a pang of shame for having dwelled on their own pleasure, momentarily setting aside the possibility that Lightbulb might not actually be having much fun—or feeling much of anything at all—while spending time with them.
'Well, since I’m already at the door, I’ll just ask if Lightbulb if she needs any help. If not, I’ll head right back.'
Just as Paintbrush was about to knock, Lightbulb’s door swung open.
"Oh? Painty! How long have you been standing there?" Lightbulb asked, looking thoroughly startled.
Would Lightbulb feel awkward if she knew Paintbrush had been standing outside her door, smiling while thinking about her? They felt as though their bristles were heating up.
"Sorry for startling you... I just happened to hear OJ tell you to redo your cleaning earlier." Paintbrush struggled to compose themselves but managed to speak up.
"Oh, you saw that? It’s a bit embarrassing to be caught getting nagged for not cleaning properly... Were you planning to nag me, too?" Lightbulb asked with a sheepish smile.
“What? No, that’s not it! I just wanted to help you finish cleaning up. I thought it would be nice to go for a walk together.”
Paintbrush felt their entire body go numb because of the words that had just blurted out. Why did words THEY DIDN’T EVEN MEAN spilling out like that? Was *this* the reason they had wanted to help her?
Lightbulb stared at Paintbrush in surprise. While her expression seemed calmer than when they had first opened the door, but her eyes held a look of utter bewilderment.
“Really? You’re going to help me and come along?” Lightbulb asked excitedly. The look of confusion had transformed into a sparkling gaze.
Paintbrush felt relieved. It seemed Lightbulb didn't find the suggestion uncomfortable after all.
“I was wondering where to clear away these sticks, too... and actually, there’s something I want to buy. But whenever I go out, things never seem to go according to plan... I always end up getting sidetracked or lost. I think it would be great if you came to the mart with me.”
Paintbrush nodded in agreement with a smile and followed Lightbulb into her room.
There were piles of sticks scattered everywhere—beside the bed, on the table, and by the door.
"It would definitely be more convenient to keep them in containers."
"Yeah, but I didn't have anything suitable, so I was planning to buy one like I mentioned earlier."
"In that case, we need somewhere to put them for now... but are you really going to eat all of these?" Paintbrush asked, deep in thought.
"Yep. Do you want some, too? Sorry, though—I think I can only spare a tiny bit." Lightbulb replied.
Paintbrush felt a bit overwhelmed and unsure of where to even begin with the explaination. Of course, there had been times in the past when they had simply brushed off Lightbulb's odd habit of eating non-food items, but now they were worried she might get sick.
"Are you sure... it's okay to eat these sticks?" Paintbrush asked worriedly.
"Well, as far as I know, I never ended up in the hospital because of sticks." Lightbulb replied.
Even though Lightbulb insisted she was fine, Paintbrush planned to have the sticks checked for safety at the restaurant later on. Still, having gone out of their way to help Lightbulb, they didn't want to spend the moment pestering or nagging her.
"Alright. Well, there were three leftover popcorn bags in the kitchen, so let's just put them in those for now."
"What? I don't remember getting any popcorn! When did everyone eat it without me knowing?" Lightbulb asked urgently.
In fact, Paintbrush had eaten the popcorn while watching the safety training video—created by the Safety Team—alongside Lifering and Box (Metag had declined the popcorn) to double-check the content. Seeing Lightbulb's frantic reaction, Paintbrush decided not to reveal the truth.
"Well, I guess someone must have left them there. I just happened to see them when I went to the kitchen, so I don't know who it was. Don't worry about it. I'll buy you something tasty soon." Paintbrush said, feigning ignorance.
Lightbulb’s face instantly brightened at Paintbrush’s promise to buy her something tasty.
The two grabbed bags of popcorn from the kitchen, returned to the room, and filled the bags with the sticks.
"I'll keep these in my room for a bit while you get your inspection." Paintbrush said, neatly placing three bags of popcorn beside the desk.
"Wait a minute! You said you wanted to eat those earlier. You aren't going to eat them all while my room's getting inspected, are you?" Lightbulb asked anxiously.
"I didn't want to eat sticks, Lightbulb. If you don't believe me, go ahead and pinch me."
No sooner had Paintbrush finished speaking than they felt a sharp pinch on their elbow. Lightbulb was actually pinching Paintbrush's elbow.
"Hey! I said that because I thought you trusted me! Is that really the extent of our trust?" Paintbrush, who had trusted Lightbulb genuinely, backed away, utterly flustered.
"Since you told me to pinch you, I just wanted to do an impression of Baxter." Lightbulb cackled at Paintbrush’s flustered expression, then looked at Baxter and mimicked the clicking of his pincers.
Paintbrush felt like they were being teased again—in a peculiar sort of way. Still, seeing Lightbulb laughing while looking at Baxter didn't feel quite as infuriating as when OJ did it, so it didn't quite give them a headache.
Lightbulb immediately called OJ, and OJ approached Lightbulb’s room.
"You called me in sooner than I expected. You cleared away the sticks like I talked about, right?" OJ asked, sounding a bit skeptical.
"You bet! I got it all cleaned up!" Lightbulb answered confidently.
"...Alright, good job." OJ confirmed that there wasn't a single stick in sight in Lightbulb's room and then left.
Lightbulb and Paintbrush waited a moment until OJ had completely disappeared from sight.
"Painty! You did it!" Lightbulb ran toward Paintbrush with her hand outstretched, and Paintbrush high-fived her.
As they watched Lightbulb running towards them with a smile, Paintbrush smiled too.
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The 'one-week date after 3 days' is just a plot point for this fanfic; it likely has no connection to real-life dating relationships.
English is not my native language. For this fanfic, I translate the text—originally written in my native language—using a translation tool, and then personally correct character names, pronouns, and any mistranslated sentences or words before uploading.
While I can grasp the meaning of the sentences, I am not always sure if they come across as stiff or awkward to native speakers depending on the context; therefore, I am truly grateful to those of you who read through to the end, even if it was uncomfortable.