Work Text:
Chatter echoed around them, the world moving far too fast, but Needle could only focus on her ex-best friend — her former fellow finalist — who she couldn't run from this time.
There was nowhere to go.
“Book,” she said as she leaned against the wall, the acknowledged two-toned object joining her. She tried to appear casual for a moment, but there was no point in hiding. Not in front of someone like Book — someone who knew all her goods and bads, someone who would have seen right through her anyways.
“…Hey.”
For a moment they were quiet, and Needle glanced at the floor, before she piped up.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"
“Yeah,” the other replied.
Considering the last time they talked properly was ending things on iffy terms several years ago, slight surprise betrayed on Needle's face at how friendly Book sounded.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” She questioned, her voice barely a whisper.
“Well… was, I suppose. But none of it seemed to matter once you were gone.”
“Oh.” Needle slid down the wall to sit, pulling her knees towards her slightly. She looked up, avoiding Book's gaze again.
“But… you’re allowed to be, you know.”
I was awful.
Book actually giggled, joining Needle on the floor and lightly nudging her with an arm. “I forgave you for all that a long time ago, silly.”
“You didn’t reach out,” the longer object pointed out, still meek. She inwardly cringed at how she sounded. Her instincts told her to be stronger—
But I'm trying to be more honest with others. And myself.
“I was stubborn." Book's slight rasp interrupted her thoughts.
“Well, nothing’s changed there,” Needle replied with a slight laugh of her own, which felt natural for the first time in a long time. “Always so eager to complete challenges… you never did give up, did you?”
“Mm, no,” Book thoughtfully replied. “But you didn't, either. I always thought you were so persistent in your goals.”
“Not after Pencil,” she muttered.
“But even after everything, you won challenges for your team. You were…” Book trailed off, as if realizing something, and Needle looked to her bleakly.
“Helpful,” she finished. “Another constant, I guess.”
“I didn’t mean—“ Needle watched Book stumble over her words at the implication, but she waved a hand.
“I know,” she replied. “It’s fine.”
“You’ve always hated seeing yourself that way,” Book insisted, sounding profusely apologetic. “I remember you telling me that… all the way back, that night after the finale…”
Needle blinked. Maybe that was true.
“I don’t really remember a lot from back then,” she admitted, and Book’s eyes widened, if slightly.
“You don’t remember that?”
Needle swore she could see a flicker of something in Book’s eyes. Relatability.
“Do… you? Do you remember any of it, either?”
I changed the subject, she suddenly noticed, but before she could fix it, Book was talking.
“I remember winning,” the dictionary reminisced. “That was nice. And I remember you, and Pin, and, regretfully, that drill.”
She paused for a second before continuing. “I know I have FreeSmart memories stored in there somewhere, too. But they hurt.”
“Hurt,” Needle echoed, bringing a hand to her heart. She’d recently realized that was the dull feeling weighing her down as well. After so many years, it was strange to put a name to the emotion…
Neither said anything for a while, and Needle's thoughts wandered, until Book said something.
“Were you doing okay here? You know, before everyone else showed up?”
Needle blinked. She gave the answer a long thought, but all she could produce was an uncertain, “I… don’t know.”
Book glanced at her. “What… happened? How did you get here, I mean? And what have you been doing all this time?”
The girl offered a tiny shrug. “I don’t know. I just got sent here. One day Barf Bag disappeared, but other than that, it was all the same.”
“You seem different,” Book abruptly brought up.
“We haven’t talked in at least five years,” Needle blankly stated. It felt strange going against herself, telling her to smile, telling her to hide, telling her to reply, 'no, I'm not! I'm fine!'
“Fair enough, I guess.”
Once again a comfortable silence befell the two girls, until Book said, “are you okay?”
Needle stared at the ground for a long while. She didn’t know. She hadn’t known for a long time.
“I…”
The words got caught in her throat. How could she explain all this to Book?
“I think… I’m getting somewhere,” she finally answered, careful with her word choice. Thanks to Bell, Needle knew what happened — but there was still no way to fix it.
Book gave her a smile and more silence, though this time more brief as her comforting voice cut through it.
“You know, despite the way things went down between us… I still missed you. More than I could ever say.”
“Me too,” Needle replied, and she broke into a small smile, a tiny ember of warmth growing in her chest.
The unfamiliar flame startled her, but Needle knew she'd felt it before. It was something she thought she'd long forgotten — the feeling of Book, her quiet understanding, her wisdom, her calm, her generosity — all of it. The feeling of the bag of memories, the farm chunk, all of it.
Fiercely, she clung to that flame.