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Spindle takes a deep breath of the, frankly, grossly dusty air of Craterdust Capital. They brought a bag full of stuff, and they’re… prepared for the worst.
But they are so scared, and so nauseous.
Without even bothering to knock, they open the door. Coil’s been sleeping elsewhere recently, since he and Skateboard got into some major fight. That was a bit before Skateboard got so…
Thankfully, nothing is amiss. But it’s also too nice and too perfect. They’ve been here before, and it’s usually much worse. Both of the inphernals that live here are messy as hell. So it being clean isn’t a good sign.
They continue farther in, taking note of each perfect room and the lack of disturbances. Hesitantly, they even check the fridge. Honestly? They were expecting mold. It’s almost empty, just some small snacks and drinks. They shut the door, as quietly as they opened it. Learning how to do all these loud actions quietly does pay off, in more than just keeping cranky neighbors from reporting them for sneezing at night. The calendar hasn’t been marked since Coil’s birthday. The marks leading up to it are more and more sloppy, like less care is put into it. And the marks are so similar in some places, it seems like he forgot to do it for some days, and would mark it all off at once. Some marks are a different color, and much neater, definitely Coil’s work. But they die off about midway through July, around when the argument happened, if they remember correctly. They sigh and let go of the pages they had flipped. No more putting it off.
They gently open the door to Skateboard’s bedroom.
He’s just… laying in his hammock. Breathing, at least. On his phone, turned to face the wall. In the dark. He’s blankly staring at something, they can’t make out the app, but it definitely isn’t a video. They flip the lights on, watching him jump and fling upwards seconds after. Slow reaction time. Not like him at all.
"Spindle?! What—what are you doing here?!" Panicked, slamming his phone down on his hammock, then fumbling to turn it off.
“It’s your spawnday, Skateboard. We all want to celebrate. Unfortunately for you, I’m the one who refuses to listen when people say no.” Rather, they know something was up, and they’re certain they’re the only one who can get through to him. “Don’t play stupid. You’re not sick, at least not physically.”
Silence lingers after that, and they sigh. Spot on, weren’t they. “...What, were you planning on sitting here and rotting away? Fighting with Coil over something stupid to make him leave, so he won’t stop you? Acting upset with Boombox so he’ll be too nervous to come check on you?” They’re saying it all like questions, but they have a pretty good idea on why he did everything this way. It’s a classic story, and they did similar before their memory loss. Just… didn’t get to go through with it in the same way. And they’re going to make sure he can’t.
He doesn’t respond.
“Sucks to fuckin’ suck, Skateboard. Coil’s getting antsy and doesn’t even know why he left in the first place. Boombox is so worried that he’s thinking of braving it and coming to see you, even if it ruins your friendship.”
Still, nothing.
They try again. “Slingshot misses you, too. We all do. Going to hang out at Thieves’ Rest isn’t the same without you. We haven’t gone after the first time, because it’s too different.”
“Did you come here just to make me feel guilty?” Finally, he’s saying something. Sure, he sounds upset, but they expected that
Willfully, they even disregard his anger, and move farther into his room, plopping down on the edge of his hammock. “No, but it sure does work to get through to you. You live in your own guilt, don’t you, Skateboard?” They glance at him, the way he looks all unsettled, and decide to stare at his wall instead, to keep from getting unnerved. “Over the past. You let it eat you alive, don’t you? The actions you can’t change.” For a little while, they let that linger, trying to think on if they really know what his past is. “...I may not know what’s happened, but I know it has to do with Boombox. From what I’ve heard from him, the little snippets, I get the feeling it wasn’t your fault.”
A small noise comes from him, like a dying animal. They don’t look, no matter how much their curiosity burns. “Yes it was. He could’ve been happy without me.”
That makes them turn to face him. “Skateboard, how stupid are you?” Wow, okay, not what they exactly meant to say. Not very diplomatic of them. “Boombox is happy. Everyone has a million regrets on how they believe life should have gone, but there’s a reason it hasn’t gone that way. Whether everything is predetermined or fated or what-fucking-ever or not, it all comes back down to choice. If Boombox really was so miserable because of you, would he choose to stick around you? He could easily abandon you. He doesn’t, because he chooses to stay with you. Because he adores you, Skateboard. You’re his best friend.”
He slumps back down in his hammock, like he wants to hide from this topic. “...He could do better.”
“He doesn’t want to, Skateboard.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds, then he bursts into a bitter laugh, which hiccups into a sob. They don’t touch him, in case he doesn’t want to be touched. Instead, they wait for him to calm down before continuing, even if they aren’t sure how long they have to awkwardly sit there until he stops heavily crying. “It’s unfair, maybe, but everything is. Boombox loves everyone, doesn’t he? Even those who are cruel to him. That’s not fair to him, but he chooses to stay loving and kind. You don’t take advantage of his kindness, which is why he gives it to you so willingly. He wants to love and he wants to help, but it isn’t safe to. He still does it, but it’s so freeing to be kind to you, who doesn’t hurt him.”
Yeah, that sends him back into a fit.
They don’t stop this time. “He cares about you, Skateboard. No matter how much guilt you have over the past, those shackles mean nothing to him. He sees you for you, not for what you’ve done.”
“Fuck, he really shouldn’t,” he stumbles out, sitting up again and wiping at his eyes. “I’m the whole reason he’s down in this shitty place, getting hurt!” Wow, okay, heavy. They’re getting somewhere. If they keep pushing, they’ll get through the first boundary.
“And what if he doesn’t regret that? What if he really is happier here, with you? All of his friends and joys come from this. Don’t they?”
When he doesn’t immediately continue, they slowly reach out, placing their hand on his shoulder. He tenses, briefly, but ends up relaxing into it, even as his tears continue to audibly hit his blanket. There’s still a desire to connect, even with all the self-loathing. He opens his mouth, trying to say something, but not even a small sound gets out. So he gives up.
They don’t, though. “Skateboard. Think about it. What did he really lose? Would he really regret that loss?”
The way he stares at them in total disbelief is ridiculous. “Why wouldn’t he?” He eventually gets out, so small and shaky that they barely hear it. “Splintered Skies is… like paradise. And Craterdust is… Craterdust.” He clenches at his hoodie, and they note it looks worn out, like he’s holding onto an old memory. It’s not his usual one, or his style. “He… did leave, too. To Crossroads. So, I…”
“He didn’t leave you,” they interrupt, preemptively, just in case he might start spiraling. “He has big dreams and aspirations, and that involves making music in Crossroads. He still sees you a lot, doesn’t he?” Their language is as intentional as they can get for someone who rarely thinks while speaking. Putting those manipulator skills to good use instead of their personal benefit. For once. They think? They aren’t sure, it usually feels like they do it all for their own gain, but their gain usually is positive for others too…? Okay, thinking too hard now. “It would be so easy to stop seeing you if he didn’t want to. He puts out the effort to come see you, right? Because he wants to see you.”
His jaw visibly clenches, and he struggles with that in silence for a while. “He probably feels obligated to, since I was the reason he got kicked out of Splintered Skies.”
Splintered Skies… um… they don’t really know that place. Sure, they know it’s above Craterdust, it’s where all those newspawn get thrown off of, but… that’s about it? Windforce rules it or something. “Paradise shouldn’t kick people out, though. So is it really paradise?”
“Yes.” It’s firm, but he looks so defeated. “It’s better than here. It’s less… violent, sort of. Nobody’s up there killing each other just for looking at them funny. Windforce would put a stop to that. Everyone there is strong and useful.” They don’t say anything in return, to prompt him to keep going. It takes a while. “...I wasn’t. Strong or useful. Just… stupid, clumsy, useless, weak. I can’t even skate good, and that’s my whole thing!”
Well, they’re starting to see why he needs help. “So what?”
Understandably, he’s incredibly flabbergasted by that, staring at them with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. Eventually, he closes his mouth, then starts attempting to stammer out something. “What?” is what he finally gets out. Not much, but they can tell there’s much he’s unable to voice. Since he’s so… small sounding.
“You heard me. Why does that matter? So what if you aren’t strong or useful? You still deserve a happy life, right?” Maybe they’re interpreting this wrong, but… “I would hate to be up there. You have to be strong and useful, or you die. That’s so stupid. One of the first things I saw here was a newspawn being tossed down and dying on impact. I will never ever be able to see Splintered Skies as something good. So much pointless death. For what? Not being perfect?” They shift, gently moving their hand on top of his. Not ending his fidgeting, or forcing him to stop, but trying to offer him better comfort through skin-to-skin contact. It helps to calm down anyone comfortable with it, they’ve seen that. “You’re allowed to have flaws, Skateboard. Everyone is. A place that wants you to be a specific way or you die… doesn’t sound worth it.”
Oddly, he’s intensely focused on his hands now. Probably easier to face their touch than their expression. Easier to hide from the truth. “It was so great there, for the year I was there. Boombox would’ve had a nice, easy life there. He has a support-class gear, so he was inherently useful. And he isn’t weak, either.”
Well, that’s not entirely wrong? But… “Would Boombox really want a life like that, Skateboard? An easy one? Would they let him play the music he loves up there? I ‘unno, that place sounds so pretentious to me, I’d assume he’d only be allowed to play classical music. No EDM! He’d die!”
Their dramatics get him to laugh, though it’s incredibly pathetic. “I… guess that’s true. He loves his music, and…”
“And he loves the DJ scene. He’s literally made for the life he lives, Skateboard. I couldn’t see him being happy any other way.” They even sit there and think about it, and shake their head a few times. “No, nothing. He’s so delighted by his life. If he couldn’t play music for the world, I think he’d curl up and die.”
Still, it’s not enough to reach him. “But he would be safe.” Skateboard sighs, harshly, looking away from them. “It’s dangerous. Everywhere. I don’t know what I’d do if he died, knowing he’d still be alive up there.”
Also not entirely wrong, they suppose. “But he wouldn’t be happy. He wouldn’t be doing anything he loves.” They hesitate a little, uncertain on if they should really say it. “...Do you… really think this, Skateboard? Or are you lying to yourself, because it’s about something else?”
Silence. Because they’re right.
He laughs, forcefully. “Do you fake being oblivious?” That’s a bit hostile of a question, the way he says it. “Fine. Boombox is so much better than me, and I feel bad that he has to bring me around all the time. He has a whole life and future, and I just… skate. Poorly. People know him! He’s doing so awesome! I’m really, really happy for him! I’m not even jealous. I just… don’t have anything. No real future, just maybe learning a few more shitty tricks he can praise out of pity. Spending time with me drags him down to my level of worthlessness.”
Something about that tugs deep at them, but they’re going to choose to ignore that. “Worth is worthless, Skateboard. Does it matter if you’re worth something? Live out of spite, if you need to. Be a blight on the shitty world. Well, not the Inpherno itself, but… society? Fuck ‘em all. They don’t define you, only you do. Your worth doesn’t matter; you’re not a shiny rock. Nobody is inherently better than someone else for some bullshit sense of worth. Who you are and what you do is so, so much more important, Skateboard.” A bit awkwardly, they slide their hand under his, meeting his confused glance with a gentle smile, even as they miserably fail at intertwining their fingers. It makes him laugh and fix what they messed up. “You’re a good person, that’s what matters. You look out for those you care for, and you try to help others. When we first met, you helped me out. More than I would ever dream of a stranger doing. Sure, you might’ve ran into me while skateboarding, but I think that’s one of the best things to happen in my life. I couldn’t imagine not being friends with you, or Coil, or Boombox. Or having the Skate Fam to come visit, having a sense of a community I never had before. You did that. Without you, I wouldn’t have any of those things. The Skate Fam stays with you because you’ve helped them all. They look up to you. I look up to you, Skateboard."
For a while, he almost seems to be giving in. Then he shakes his head. "That worth talk is bullshit and you know it, Spindle." Unwilling to address the praise. They know what to do about that.
"And? So is basing your existence on a measurement that means nothing. It's so much more important for you to be who you are."
Okay, maybe they need a strategy change. Mindlessly going on about him seems to not work so well…
"You're one of the two main reasons I even considered reopening my business, did you know that? I spent my days lying in my hammock and wishing I was a whole different inphernal, or that I was dead. A whole year of that. Connection didn't… fix me or anything like that, it just… reminded me that there is something out there that's worth sticking around for."
Skateboard looks up at them again. Properly. Surprised. "I am?" Then he looks away again. Almost frustrating. "So, when you said you—" He cuts himself off with a slightly frustrated sigh. "But you're amazing, Spindle. You do great things. You're the most successful inphernal I know. I love Boombox, but he's… niche. Coil does a lot of… a lot of things, but he's always getting in trouble, and endangering himself for it. Slingshot's cafe is successful, but not like your boutique is."
"I was never going to reopen it, Skate. I was going to let my business die like I was trying to. Slowly decaying while people wondered." Blunt, factual, because otherwise opening up like this would destroy them. "Success didn't matter to me, because I lost what did matter. She left me for—she doesn't regret leaving me, and I almost regret not following her. But she comes back and asks me to come with her, and I—I look at her and never want to see her again."
"…Her?"
"My sibling. The whole reason I even started selling clothes. My model, my muse, the one thing I cared about."
He's quiet for a while, until he sighs again. "That's… what's different about us, Spindle. You have a reason to feel this way, I don't. Th—"
"Yes you do. My reason doesn't make yours any less valid."
So he tries again, after staring at them for a few seconds. "I didn't lose a sibling. I'm just…" Helpless, uncertain of his own reasoning.
They have some guesses, at least. "Traumatized. Depressed. Been passively suicidal too long—that is oddly common, unfortunately—and lacking any sense of self-worth."
While it stings, and they can tell because of his expression, he does nod. "…That seems right. Traumatized, though?"
"You got thrown out of the sky, Skateboard. You spend your days rescuing inphernals from rubble. I'm sure you find dead bodies, right? Even if you don't realize it, that can be very mentally damaging. No matter how violent we are, it's still… upsetting to the brain. We want to survive, not to hurt others. Most inphernals, anyway."
And he's back to crying. "I didn't—" A choked sob, and he's the one initiating contact. Knowing that they're open, and that he needs it. They hold him close, but not tightly. Still holding his hand, but the other one is slung over his back as he sobs into their shoulder, arms wrapped around them like he'll lose himself to this overwhelming darkness without them right here.
…His sleeve has rolled up. Respectfully, they look away, even if the sight is burned into their brain, and they're even more nauseous and terrified. Coil was right. Coil was too right. The two had been texting so frequently these past five days, communicating everything they can about this, how Spindle should handle it. Coil never knew anything for certain, but he had suspected so much, and he has been right about everything so far. He had also been insanely annoying about it. Spamming them with texts. Constantly asking about their plans. But… they get it. They know. He's terrified. Overwhelmed with how much he cares, how helpless he is to… help. Coil isn't one for reassurance, just jokes and easing tension. But something like this can't be fixed with a laugh. The more the tension is brushed aside, the deeper that aching rot festers.
"You're a good person, Skateboard," they quietly mumble, thumb gently rubbing against his back through the hoodie. He sobs again. "I really want you to know that. Everyone knows how awesome you are, and it's insane that you can't see it. But I… I get it. I can't believe most of what people say about me. But I also get way too caught up on praise, so it balances out."
Instead of answering, he keeps crying against them. By now, his tears have gone right through their shirt and jacket, and is soaking into their skin. It's irritating. Not annoying, but it's making their skin itch. Water tends to do that. "I'm—not." Strangled, barely able to get out at all.
"You are. I don't care how much you don't believe it, because everyone else knows it's true. How could you not be a good person and still save so many inphernals?"
Yet another sob. "Skateboard. It does get better. I've been just like this, and I got out of it because of help. My friends—ironically a different group of inphernals from Playground—basically broke into my home weekly, if not almost daily, to talk with me, help me out. Force me outside sometimes. That last part… I don't know how much it helped. But it was tolerable, since they didn't force me to do anything. I was an asshole about it. I would say horrible things and refuse in such cruel ways, but they wouldn't give up. I still feel terrible for it, but none of them blame me. It really… eats you alive, doesn't it? Guilt, self-loathing… the list goes on. It all piles up, and crushes you under it. Then you unknowingly fall into the self-fulfilling cycle, and by the time you realize, it's way too late."
Surprisingly, that doesn't make him cry harder, like everything else has seemed to. Instead, it makes him stop. Pull back, look them in the eyes. It's hard seeing someone so relaxed be so… shaken, crumbling apart. "I don't—know how to get out. How?"
Spindle sighs, and shakes their head. "I don't know. Let your friends be there for you. Don't shut them out. I still struggle, but I don't let it be the only thing I see. I go do what I love, look at what I love. Even if it doesn't feel the same anymore, I still appreciate it dearly. Nature has only gotten more beautiful since I…" Do they say it? "…Almost died." They're too much of a coward to say it.
But he knows what they mean. "Really? I thought… that was made-up."
"…Thanks. I won't pour my heart out for you next time, jerk." They lean in to bonk their forehead against his, grinning over the small huff it gets out of him. "Yeah, though. Really. I mean, maybe that's me being all… me, though."
There's that faint glint of teasing in his eyes, buried under all the sorrow. They call it faint, but it's actually quite clear from this angle. "Are you sure it doesn't have to do with—"
They hit their forehead against his again, this time hard enough to get a small yelp. "Can it. It doesn't, actually. I will admit that… perhaps I do find nature even easier to appreciate after… um, but that's not relevant! I've always adored plants." Their face burns a little, but they're willing to let him have this, to escape the anguish. "Anyway! I didn't just come here to make you cry. It's your spawnday, after all."
That catches his attention, and they remove their hand from his back, fishing around in their jacket pocket, until they find it and drop it in his lap. "Not my usual gift, but I think you need it." Then they fish some more, dropping a small wrapped package in his lap as well. "Not fresh anymore, been a bit, and Slingshot says you can stop by for 'all-you-can-eat-pastries' anytime today, or this week, or 'whenever you feel like coming'." More fishing, and they prick themself on a sewing needle. "Ouch. Forgot I had that in there. Don't keep needles in pockets." More carefully, they go back to digging. Pulling out the last pocket-sized gift. "This is one of the three gifts Boombox got you, and the only one that fits in my pocket. A ticket to some… concert—I don't know the artist, Boombox said the name like you do, though—and he said he 'really wants to go with you'."
Obviously, this is overwhelming for someone so deep into self-loathing that they believe nobody else truly cares. He doesn't touch anything. Just stares down at his lap, then laughs. Disbelieving. "Yeah, I… I know the artist. And I'll… keep Sling's offer in mind." Slowly, his arms slide off of them, and he grabs their gift first. Since they're here, they assume. "What… do I do with this?" He looks all startled, and hastily corrects himself, "I like it, Spindle. I'm just—it's a little skateboard made from… something."
"It's… one of those little boards you skate around with your fingers. I thought you'd like it. Don't worry about the material, just know that it works like normal."
He snorts, already fidgeting with it. "I get at least one of these every year. Never been a homemade one."
Oh. Their gift is NOT original, then. "…Skate Fam may or may not have pooled together the money to commission some big gifts out of me, but you won't be getting those until you have a party. Obviously, I gave discounted rates, but Swords above they are asking some serious things out of me." They blink, and reach back into their pocket, handing Skateboard a picture. "Here. Got this from Coil. He wanted to make sure you remember we're here for you."
Pretty quickly, he drops the board, and takes the picture. Stares at it. Squints, even. Then looks up at them, unimpressed. "And where are you?"
"Huh?"
"You're not in the picture. Wow. You don't care about me?"
They flinch, then smack their head into his again. It definitely hurts them much more than it hurts him, but he laughs every time they do it, so it's worth it. "I haven't been in any group pictures! I'm too busy for all that, and if I'm not busy, Coil is."
"Oh, you bent it." Casual, and he unbends it… "Oh. Of course he—" Skateboard's snickering, turning the photo around so they can see it.
Their eye twitches. They have literally never done that before. "I'm going to beat him up." That is the poorest photoshop ever. Coil did include Spindle, and he bent the photo so they wouldn't see it. It's that picture he took of them at Thieves' Rest once, absolutely terrified by Skateboard wolfing down a massive stack of pancakes while they had taken maybe one bite of… whatever they ordered. All they can remember is the fear in their heart over the pancakes. He is so scrawny and he managed to eat all of that? Is it the height? Where does it go? Definitely not his brain, that's for sure. His gear does not take enough energy for all that food. How did he do it.
Well, at least Skateboard is laughing. That's better than… earlier. "You'll lose that fight worse than I would." Not wrong, not at all. They can't even really fight with their gear. Not in… traditional ways, at least. And the amount of energy it takes—insane. "This'll be the best picture we ever have. Nothing can top this." He's grinning, starting to fall back into his usual mannerisms. Isolation makes it hard to be yourself, but he's getting back there. "I remember this. Didn't you start crying?"
How does he remember that?! "I—might have. I was appalled. It's also why I put limits on how much I'll pay for. I have the money, but I'm concerned for your health. You… passed out afterwards."
"Worth."
"Worth."
Both of them are in agreement about that.
Then Spindle breaks the atmosphere, pulling back fully, getting up off Skateboard's hammock and stretching. "Willing to go out, Skateboard? Or you wanna try another day?" Thinking on it a little, they add, "no pressure about the party, by the way. We can do that whenever. Everybody's willing to drop whatever they're doing for it. That is a testament to how much you mean to us."
Skateboard's grin drops, but he weakly smiles soon after. "Not… today." He fumbles with the photo, other hand still limp where they let go of it.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"…Yeah."
Spindle plops back down on the hammock. Takes Skateboard's hand again, and looks up at his ceiling. "Fine. I'll indulge you. Make sure you eat what Slingshot forced me to take, or he'll kill us both."
He laughs, and they hear the sound of crinkling pretty soon after. Good. He is really eating it.
"You're really brave, Skateboard. You know that? I wouldn't have sat down and confronted any of this if I was in your place. Well, I… didn't, when I was in your place. So you're braver than me. But that's… pretty obvious." Spindle's a bit of a coward. Which is only fair, considering they live in such a violent world and can't fight. Their sibling, though… she fought well enough for the both of them. Now they're more defenseless without her. They've gotten creative with it, though. Make defenses.
"You're brave, Spindle. You sat down and told me all that." Pausing for a few seconds, he awkwardly adds, "you can call me Skate, y'know?"
"Oh." They didn't mean to vocalize that. "I did not know, actually."
Another laugh, and he squeezes their hand. "Yeah, you can. All my friends can, and you've been one for a while." There's more crinkling, and he throws a ball towards the trashcan, missing. "…I'll pick that up later."
There's a tug on their hand about the same time there's a thump on the hammock. They look over, and he's laying down, grinning at them. "What are you doing?"
"I wanna watch something. Bored. Join me." Another tug.
With a huff, they flop down next to him, holding still as he awkwardly gets closer, seeking contact. "Deities, Skateb—Skate. If you wanted to cuddle, you could just ask?"
Instead of answer, he hits his head against theirs, fumbling around behind him with his free hand until he finds his phone. "Could've." No explanation, just turns on his phone, closing whatever he was doing. "Fine with whatever, or…?"
"Whatever."
Skateboard nods, but they aren't really paying attention anymore, thinking on a design that fits him. A rich red, sturdy, that compliments the interwoven colors of those around him. Of course, the design is still about him, it will prominently feature his colors, yet they know how much of him is rooted in those around him. The real debate is on if they should include their own color in there. It would be… egotistical to do so. Perhaps they won't. Most likely, they won't.
Spindle gets so lost in their planning that they're completely blind to what's going on around them, until something drops on their chest. They jolt and squeak, blinking rapidly. Until they realize it was just Skateboard's phone, and… he fell asleep.
Sure. That's fine. They can lay here until he wakes up. Mhm. Slowly, they fumble to grab their phone out of their jacket, slowly typing out a message to Coil. That it's gone good. Even taking a sneaky selfie and sending it to him. Selfie is kind of misleading. It's a picture of Skateboard, mostly. And they quickly get distracted between texting back Coil and looking at stuff online, quite comfortable with letting one of their close friends sleep on them, actually.