Chapter Text
Taco loved forests. Or, she would have, if they hadn't brought her such painful memories. The pale grey tint of the foliage against the colour the leaves embodied. Now, it seemed so distant, but the recollection of the nights she had suffered against the cold, damp dirt still lingered in the back of her mind. She tried not to think about the past, looking ahead was always a goal of hers, but she was always so caught on the past. Despite this, the feelings that had come of the forest had persistently been a grey area for her.
Rhythmically drumming her fingers on the edge of the table they were sat at, Taco took in the ambiance of the restaurant. A light pink light came from the light overhead her and Microphone, shading them in a soft aura. Mic's metal caught the light in just the perfect way, catching Taco's eye just as easily. It was almost romantic. Just the two of them, in a booth facing eachother, tinted in the colour or their love. It was almost like Mic knew that she felt that way, because everything she did made Taco's heart grow fonder. Despite this, she never got anywhere with Mic. I suppose this isn't all too surprising, Taco was far too nervous to try and make any sort of advancement of their hard-earned friendship. Taco wondered this, staring into her reflection in the plate she hadn't taken a bite from. Mic looked up at her with such beautiful concern in her eyes, it felt like a curse to look her in the eye. It was, however, impossible to turn her head away, and thus, they locked eyes. For a moment. And the world was still. Taco felt like she was made of stone, unable to move. They shared this moment for just a second, and Mic was to break it. Taco's heart was almost broken with this, her gaze made her feel a peace and tranquility that no drug ever could. Mic's love is a drug, really. And Taco was a crack baby who yearned for her embrace more every day she went without.
"You... gonna eat that?" Mic inquired slowly, laced with care. Laced with love. Laced with Mic's sweet poison, and the food might as well had been too, Taco could barely stand straight when Mic spoke so sweetly. Mic leaned her elbows on the smooth mahogany table, cupping her head in her palms as she waited for an answer. Taco was envious, she could only wish to be caressed so carefully with the soft, supple hands that worked for her companion. Taco snapped suddenly when she felt her fingers graze her hand, and this time she gained the sense to reply.
"Ehm, Yes. I- will." Smiling softly, and probably pinker than she already was, she pulled away from Mic's grasp to twirl her fork in her hand. There was no inert need or want in her to take a single bite, but Mic had always coached her into taking care of herself with that melody of a voice she carried, almost to Taco's dismay. Fortunately, this did mean she could hear Mic every morning with the birds singing - though they could never sound as lovely as her - and sleep with her words rattling in her ears. She was almost sure she only took care because she was told, she was certain she would be in a much worse state if Mic hadn't been there. Anything would be done on her behalf if she said it with that sweet sonority she held in her throat, she would jump off a bridge if she told her to.
Mic hummed, tapping her foot on the wooden floorboards. Taco had always liked how the flooring and tables matched like that. She breathed the pent-up desire from out of her system and placed a small, sweet potato chip from her plate onto her tongue. She hummed as she chewed it, she'd expected it to be normal. Hearing a giggle escape the women across from her, she glanced up at Mic, who was chuckling at her endearingly.
"I'm sorry, I just.. Are you eating fries with a knife and fork..?" Taco rolled her eyes. Mic was so simple, one of the many things she loved about her, and so easily entertained. "Of course," she responded, forgetting to swallow the half eaten chip in her mouth. Mic couldn't help but find it amusing. Eating fries with cutlery to seem "sophisticated" and spoke while eating. How idiotic. Taco blinked at this realisation and covered her mouth as she took the time to properly ingest her meal.
"Apologies.." She mumbled after she swallowed, running her thumb on the edge of the table. "How about we take this to-go?" Taco looked up to Mic for an answer, but Mic didn't have to say anything. All she did was put her hands on her hips and shake her head. Taco rolled her eyes and tryed to be annoyed, but it was truly impossible. She could never hold a grudge against the beauty she shared a room with. And so Taco - with her knife and fork, of course - continued to slowly eat the small stack of chips in front of her, and occasionally nibbling on a topping slipped from the bun of her burger. Taco didn't have a drink, so it was a good pallette cleanser. She always felt weird getting lettuce or tomatoes on the dishes she ate, so the extras on this particular meal were limited to onions, ketchup, and a slice of cheddar cheese (They weren't allowed to serve swiss on Cheesy's behalf). Annoying? Perhaps. But it felt worse to eat a part of yourself. Gnawing on the very same lettuce that was in her shell currently felt like a morally grey thing to to, and Taco didn't take any risks when it came to morality, even when the man who shunned her did it himself.
When Taco finished her chips, Mic - albeit begrudgingly - let her pack away the scraps of burger left on her plate to take with them to the hotel. Mic grabbed Taco's hand as she stood, an action which undeniably made her heart skip a beat or two. Tugging gently on her arm as to guide her to stand, Mic led the way out of the restaurant. Taco shivered as the cold outside air hit her, making her instintively hold onto Mic's hand harder. Being an electric-powered object, Mic was always so warm, even in the coldest environments. Taco found it comforting, how she had despised the cold for the memories it brought her, and had managed to befriend someone who could aid her to the best of her ability. Taco had always found her herself to be cold, both physically and emotionally, persistently. And, as always, Mic was there by her side, with her warmth. The temperature of her electronics, aswell as the calm, bubbly personality she posessed. However, even when she wasn't around, even the thought of her always made her feel so warm and fuzzy inside, like she was running a fever. I suppose this made her lovesick. Taco was shocked Mic wasn't sick of her, in the exact opposite sense. Honestly, Taco was sick of herself, and she was her pallette cleanser, similarly to the burger she had barely eaten. Despite this, Microphone was sweeter than the chips it was paired with, and while Taco took hesitant bites of her meal, she embraced Mic fully.
Mic laughed at Taco staring at her, clutching her hand, so lost in thought. She slipped a pair of wired airpods from out of her purse. She slipped one in the slots between the criss-crossed metal along her head, and offered Taco the other with a generous smile. Taco took the offer from her hand, and for a second, just a second, they were hand in hand, avoiding eachother's eyes like the world would burn if they acknowledged the moment. Taco forced her hand away from hers with an internal despair, and nestled the headphone inbetween her lettuce and one of the tomatoes on the side of her head. Mic plugged them into her phone as a vague static sounded softly into their ears. Mic started to play her own music, which Taco wasn't exactly fond of, but listened in, just to share the moment. There was a synth piano and voice samples and a strange amount of bass and percussion, and lyrics she wasn't exactly listening to. Something about stomachs and turning pages? All Taco knew is that, in the end, she didn't care about this song. It wasn't so apalling, despite all the screaming, however. Taco expected Mic's music taste to be alot worse. She mostly tuned it out and took the opportunity to take a gaze at Mic again. Most people found her all-grey appearance to be boring, but Taco thought those people were hypocrites, they were just as boring for proclaiming such a thing. Like calling vanilla a basic flavour, despite its nuances (this also happened to be one of Taco's personal pet peeves).
A couple songs continues to play, some with electric guitar, some with synth, some in a language she didn't understand - Japanese, or some other asian language, from what she could pick up. They all sounded energetic, but would probably send someone to therapy if they shared a sentiment with the lyrics. Taco had almost gotten used to the general atmosphere of her playlist when she heard a new instrument - a piano. Not a synth piano. Not even a keyboard, by the sounds of it. A real piano. This engaged Taco. She played piano, of course it did. The intro was moderately paced, snd sounded decently upbeat. But, more than anything Taco noticed, she saw the way Mic reacted when the song began. A weird facial expression she couldn't quite name, and the masked shame when she looked back at her phone. Taco didn't understand why she did this, this was probably the only noteworthy song Mic listened to. Taco looked at Mic as the intro progressed, becoming smoother and less bouncy - but still upbeat. Mic, however, had already directed her eyes towards the setting sun. Taco knew she was probably trying not to look at her, but she understood why Mic would give her attention to it. It shone with such magnificent colours, pinks blessing the horizon and blues ovehead. The sky emitted a light which cast a shadow on the hotel and other miscellaneous buildings in the distance. and highlighed their outlines. The gradient in the sky captivated her fully, until the song she was listening to began to include a voice:
You look indescribably good,
Irrevocably grand,
With you by my side
Is where I wanna stand.It's unequivocally great
To be out here this late,
With you on my arm,
Oh, God, You've got charm!
Huh. Mic probably has no clue what half of these words mean. She laughed at that thought, which made Mic look away with a strange, sour look on her face. She'd have to ask what song this was, because she really did like it. She had never really found the words to capture her adoration for the woman she was currently sharing a playlist with, but ghe words ringing in her ears were perfect. And were accompanied with piano. Taco couldn't really understand why Mic would have something so... her. Taco's hand slipped from Mic's, and she immediately adjusted her grip on her weirdly sweaty palms. She squeezed her hand twice, a signal of affirmation from one to another. Mic looked back and gave her a weird smile while she accidentally leaned into her. Taco wasn't complaining, of course, she just wasn't expecting it. Mic noticed almost instantly and took a step back with a strange sigh. Maybe the song wasn't so distant from who she was, she seemed pretty inarticulated. Honestly, so did Taco. She could feel that familiar warmth creeping up her body again and making her smile so much it hurt. She couldnt let Mic see this, oh, how pathetic. She looked away as her hand fidgeted with Mic's fingers. Her nails were quite long, which was unusual to her, as she perpetually bit her nails short. Taco tryed not to rip Mic's nails off, but it definetly took atleast a small amount of self-restraint. It was a good thing to distract herself with however, she thought, thinking about the fact that Mic was voluntarily listening to a love sing made her kind of flustered. And then she was thinking about it again and was flustered again and she immediately dropped whatever notion of Mic's nails she had been temporarily focused on. So gentle, so fancy, so.... so.. The song sounded like love, atleast to Taco, but it wasn't her playlist, it was Mic's. It was strange to think of that.
And then it hit her.
Was Mic in love?
Oh. Oh no. Oh god. Fuck. That's why Mic looked so flustered, she was thinking about her crush. No. That song wasn't about a crush, it described true love. Mic had fallen in love.
Taco stared wide-eyed at the floor as she strengthened her grip on Mic, interlacing their fingers. What was she thinking, she didn't want to hold hands like this. She wanted to hold hands with the man Mic was in love with. Her heart was pounding, this feeling of pure, unfiltered disgust drilling at her mind. She felt sick. Differently, this time. This was probably how Mic felt of her. Her eyes stung as tears began to well. Taco was ashamed. She was supposed to be a professional, why was she crying over something so trivial? It was no surprise Mic didn't feel the same way, Taco had been so horrible to her. Taco felt guilty. Did Mic know she was sorry? Did Mic know she felt so disgusted? Did Mic know she liked her? No, loved. Taco loved Mic. More than anything. More than herself, really. Taco was out of breath, but she couldn't breath. She would just sound sniffly and sappy and would end up sobbing her eyes out in front of Mic. Mic should be happy. If Mic was in love, Taco should support her, to make her happy. But love wasn't making Taco feel very happy right now. And, for that, she felt horrible. So selfish, wanting Mic to be alone for her own sake. What was wrong with her? There must be something with her. Who could she possibly like, anyways? Someone smarter, someone funnier, with the same taste, someone who could relate to her like Taco never could. She felt awful for ever hating anything she enjoyed, even that song that was playing earlier, that she was somewhat indifferent to. It was her fault that Mic didn't like her. Maybe if she had been nicer. Maybe if she had been happier. Maybe if she had been more confident or more emotionally intelligent or more impressive or prettier or popular. She would do anything for Mic. Anything. And if Mic never wanted to see her again, so be it, if it was for her. Maybe Mic would like her better if she was a boy.
Taco had spent so long accepting herself and her love for what it is, and it was all coming crumbling down infront of the both of them. And Mic was oblivious, looking at the sunset. The sun was warm, but it was so far away. And Taco was thankful for every second in daylight. But when she was kicked from the hotel, although she deserved it, she covered herself from her only comfort. And Mic was so warm, but she felt so far away. And Taco was thankful for every second she could spend in her presence. But if Mic hated her and wanted her gone, she would comply, because she deserved it, and would hide from her only comfort. Mic's touch was painful. To think she held her hand, but it was all in vain. Taco was thankful to have a friend, but Taco never got what she wanted. She wanted Mic. And she wanted to spend time with her. And she wanted to hold her and kiss her and love her with all her might, but she couldn't, and it hurt. She couldn't stand to be here. She couldn't bear the idea that Mic was in love, no matter how much she convinced herself it was for the better. She couldn't stand to look at Mic another second, no matter how much it hurt.
Taco let go. Physically. She knew she would never be able to forget what she had heard and seen. The headphone yanked out of her shell as she swung her body forward and dug the ball of her right foot into the grassy floor beneath them. She needed to get away. She felt terrible about this entire situation, all she wanted was to forget. Forget about the song and the dinner and all the touches they shared and forget about Microphone. She only wished that Mic could do the same. And so she ran. Ran from everything. She didn't know where she was going. All she knew is that she needed to leave. She ran until she was out of breath, until her limbs ached and her tears couldn't help but fall, and then she kept running. Her vision was blurred and her eyes were puffy and she was sniffling and panting like she never had before. She had became rather athletic within her time in the forest, but her muscles ached with the force of which she escaped from her unreciprocating lover. She could see the hotel in sight, and, as much as she knew the residents would be less that welcoming towards her, she just couldn't go back to the forest, no matter how much she knew she deserved it. Every bone in her body shook with distress, but she rushed to the door as fast as her small legs would carry her, and so she slammed her body weight into the heavy, blue-white front door and jiggled the handle uselessly (the door wasn't locked, Taco just couldn't focus). OJ opened the door with a cautious look on his face, turning to annoyance when he saw Taco, and back to concern when he saw her tear-stained face.
"Taco, what are.. what?-" OJ began to say before Taco walked away from him. He persued her for a moment, but got the message when she pushed herself to walk faster when he tried to strike up a conversation again. She considered taking the elevator considering the trip she had taken to get here had exausted her energy, but that would probably be inefficient, even when she barely had the strength to walk at this point. She carried herself up the stairs painfully and practically ran (in relation to energy usage, she was barely jogging) to her room. She shook the handle unsuccessfully a couple times before the door slipped open and she fell into the room, catching herself on the round, golden door handle. She stood before throwing herself into bed, slipping under the covers as she sighed wearily. She was truly exausted. Everything hurt from the excercise, but, more than anything, her heart hurt. It ached with the heartbreak of a thousand failed advances, and then more than some.
Taco had never liked crying. She refrained from doing it as much as physically possible, but her eyes stung and her heart pounded with guilt and pain and agony of an unrequited love. So stupid to cry over love. So stupid. Taco was stupid for ever trying to hope on any sort of romance. Nobody could ever love her. Nobody should ever like her. Especially not Mic. Mic deserved someone better. Whoever it was that she had fallen for. Taco dug her fingers into the sheets as she hid her face into her pillow. Taco took a shaky breath in before letting out a small, desperate cry. She felt awful, the guilt of despising the idea of Mic being happy sinking into her chest and constricting her breathing. All she could do were take in pathetic little inhalations and shakily breathe her sorrows out. Or, breathe them. They never rid themselves from her sad little body. Unable to stop shaking, Oh, poor little Taco! So pathetic, crying over happiness. So self-absorbed, so selfish.. The pillowcase she was bawling into was starting to dampen, but Taco didn't notice. The agonising pain of this abandoned romance overwhelmed Taco, it was hard to focus on anything else. And thus, as her small, shaky body trembled and sobbed, the weight of everything she had experienced of that day continued to choke her gently, unable to be let go no matter how many tears she shed. It was unfortunate, really. But Taco didn't feel very unfortunate. In a strange, roundabout kind of way, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be. She drew her legs closer to her body in an attempt to warm herself up, god was she so cold. So cold for being in spite of Mic. But Mic had always been warmer than Taco. And this, she suddenly knew.
A hand tapped her shell gently as she tried to hide her desperate sob, a warmth radiating through her. Tilting her to be able to look at them, she spoke. "You 'kay?"
No. No, she wasn't okay, as much as she tried to tell herself that she was happy for Mic. But Mic was here. Standing above her. She probably looked so awful, so evil, so manipulative for throwing a tantrum over this. Yet, she was there. And she moved her hands to the sides of her shell, propping her up as she circled around the bed to sit down next to her. She looked angry. Or, Taco was almost sure that she was. But there was something in her eyes that said the opposite. When Mic sat, she went back to holding Taco with her left hand. She stalled, trying to find the words to say what she wanted to. "I... I'm sorry." Mic took a deep breath in as she look away in shame. "If you're wondering.. Yes, that song was in there for the reason you think." Taco felt like she had been punched in the stomach. To hear it from her own lips felt like the last nail in the coffin. "I've felt this way for.." Mic laughed nervously, "quite a while. I.. should have told you.. instead of.. hah.. obsessing over things that.." Mic trailed off, rubbing her thumb into Taco, feeling the coarse texture of her shell on the pad of her fingers. Taco thought about what she had said. Should have told her? Mic really shouldn't be holding Taco in such high regard, especially given the situation at hand. "Things that.. remind me of-"
"It's fine." Taco interrupted her. She didn't need to know who she liked, no, loved over herself. It would only make her feel worse. Mic looked at her with concern, patting her on the back as she spoke.
"You sure? You.. look pretty..... uncomfortable. I don't want to upset you, Taco, and I never meant for this to happen. I just.. It's just.. how things are, I guess. I just hope thing can stay the same between us." Taco was confused. She seemed to be more weary about how she herself felt than how her love interest did. Mic looked at her for a reply, for her to assure her that everything was okay.
"Your.. love.. doesn't bother me. I just.. don't want to hear about it." Taco said with a scowl. "I'd like to pretend this never happened."
Taco fidgeted with her thumbs as Mic nodded sadly. If she feels so bad about not being able to talk about this guy to one person, she must really love him. Taco felt like she would throw up. Honestly, Mic looked just as heartbroken. Mic stood up, and, with a pitifully sad smile, left without saying another word. She probably thought she was disgusting for crying over this. She probably thought she was disgusting for liking her. Taco was starting to agree. She should've never trusted herself to get hooked on a false emotion. This is what happens when you don't love a man like you're supposed to, thought Taco, and she cried herself to sleep.