Chapter Text
Things have been.. Well, not 100% great for Mephone4.
Ever since Inanimate Insanity ended, aka the one thing that kept him going, he’s fallen into a massive slump. He has hardly interacted with anyone, pretty much glued to the room that he was offered to stay in in Hotel OJ.
Despite the fact that it’s been almost 3 months, he couldn’t help but continue to drown in his guilt after everything that happened; the contestants finding out that their lives were practically jokes, losing Mepad, having to deal with the fact that pretty much everyone now hates his guts or are too uncomfortable to interact with him.. It was a lot to handle.
He suffocated under all of the guilt, the reality of it all pressing down on his chest every single day, from the moment he opens his eyes to when he forces himself to shut off again to avoid all the feelings. He doesn't have anything to distract himself with anymore, there were no challenges he had to plan for new episodes, no fun little characters he could make to spice things up, he couldn't delete his memories and hide from the hurt he’s caused and faced, he lost all motivation to do anything besides lie down rot away in his bed. And since he was a robot who technically didn't need to eat or take care of himself like the average person, it was easy to do that.
He constantly thought about what he could’ve done to be better, how things would be if he was just honest from the start. It was never meant to get that bad, that serious; he wasn't prepared to.. care so much. About all of them. It was meant to be a fun little reality show, just like the ones he’d watch in that sad little room Cobs gave him. It was his. And now, it's gone.
And honestly? He was better off dead. Gone. Away from everyone so they could move on and heal by themselves without any reminders of him lingering around. It should’ve been him, not Mepad.
Except.. he can’t just “die”, because OJ - with the help of Test Tube - forced him to turn parental locks on his settings to prevent him from.. you know, taking matters into his own hands. Which is stupid! He’s not a child, he’s very much capable of making his own self destructive decisions! It’s not anything new.
Speaking of, even though everyone else avoided interacting with him, for some reason OJ chose to keep checking up on him. He’d text Mephone to ask how he’s doing, often getting no reply but as long as his message was read it meant the robot was still alive, and every few days he’d come up to Mephone’s room to double check that he’s still breathing.
He didn’t know why OJ wanted to do this. It was already enough for him to spend 10 minutes insisting that Mephone stay in the hotel, but now he's just constantly nagging him all the time! Saying things like “Mephone, we’re concerned about you”, “Oh Mephone, you can't keep letting yourself get worse!” “You need help and we’re here for you!!”.
Honestly, it was just annoying. It’d be much easier for him to bed rot and isolate himself from everyone forever if OJ just stopped caring. Yet.. once again, he could hear the hotel manager walking up to his room for their unestablished biweekly checkup.
“Mephone, are you awake?” OJ called out, his hand hesitating above the door handle before creaking the door open and poking his head through. Squinting into the dark space, he noticed Mephone’s dimly lit screen slightly glowing behind the blanket over his head.
“.. Mephone, I know you’re up. I can see your screen.” OJ pointed out with a sigh, a little annoyed that Mephone was still not bothering to even talk or acknowledge him every time he would come in. He let himself in, closing the door behind him and walking over to the bed that Mephone has been glued to for months.
“You know, people usually take silence as a no.” Mephone grumbled quietly under the blanket, turning away from OJ to face the wall instead. That’s probably the most movement he’s done all day. He felt the bed dip as the other man sat on the edge,
“Well, it’s my hotel, I can go wherever I’d like.” He replied, turning on the beside lamp to bring some light to this depressingly lit room. “So.. are you planning to get up at any point today?”
A few uncomfortable seconds of silence followed. There was nothing new to say at this point, nothing to encourage Mephone to get up and do something, nothing to convince Mephone to try and get help or heal himself along with the others. It irritated OJ. Everyone else was beginning to move on, yet Mephone was still here sulking by himself. Mephone knew he was suffering in all of this isolation, so why wouldn’t he just take the help that OJ’s been offering him??
He sighed again as he got no reply, as usual, looking down at the sad lump that laid under the messy, wrinkled blankets which piled on top of it.
“You know you can’t be like this forever. I know you think the others hate you, and.. well, they haven’t exactly warmed up yet, but they still care. I care, even if you don’t believe it. Hell, even I’m surprised that I care this much.”
“…”
“Come on,” OJ tried again, gently nudging Mephone's shoulder. “Talk to me. At least look at me, please..” His tone shifting to something more soft to try and convince him better, his hand lingering on his arm.
Something in Mephone’s chest tightened, beginning to feel kinda bad that OJ was desperate enough to start pleading for any sort of response. After some consideration, Mephone slowly turns back around, the blankets slipping away from his face as he glances up at OJ.
God, he looked like a mess. His synthetic hair was a tangled tragedy, his screen cracked and dull, nothing like the enthusiastic, upbeat show host he used to be. Despite his face being digital, OJ could still see visible eyebags.
“Alright.. eye contact, that’s progress! .. I suppose.” OJ said, trying to use an uplifting tone but he knew that would be hardly effective.
“.. I’m fine.” Mephone muttered.
“We both know that’s a lie.”
Mephone groaned, rolling his eyes a little before flopping to lay on his back instead, staring at the ceiling while OJs face was still in the corner of his view. “Yeah, whatever.” he mumbled.
It was quiet again. After the few first hundred attempts and arguments you happen run out of things to say to one another. As the saying goes, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. Still, OJ wanted to keep pushing. It was unfair, watching Mephone continue to stay in the deep pit he was in while everyone around him was getting better. It almost felt selfish of him. Things would be so much easier for everyone, especially him, if he just tried, but he just.. wouldn’t. He didn’t even want to give it a chance.
“Are you done here yet? I’m alive, I’m breathing, I’m slightly less depressed than yesterday. Your checkup is done.” Mephone said, waving his hand in a shooing gesture to tell OJ to take the hint and leave him alone already.
OJs eyebrows furrowed, a little displeased at Mephone’s attitude towards him.
“Excuse me? I’m sorry if caring about you is an inconvenience, but it's called ‘being a good friend’,” He hissed, his voice subtly raising at him. “It’s not my fault that despite everything you’re still such a self absorbed little-“
He paused, holding himself back before this turned into another pointless argument. OJ clenched his fist a little into the blanket, trying to regather his composure.
“Do not act like I’m the inconvenience here.” He recollected himself, his voice lower but not any less firm. “You’re the one who’s been sulking and isolating yourself from everyone for months, I want to help but YOU choose to keep suffering–“
“I don’t want your damn help!” Mephone interrupted, his voice beginning to raise in frustration as well. He groaned, his hands dragging over his broken screen in annoyance, tangling in his messy hair for a moment before dropping them back down to his sides.
“How many times do I need to say it? I don’t need you, I don't need anyone! I never asked you to do these stupid checkups where all you do is nag me for 5 minutes and then skip back to your fun little community where ‘everything is just amazing and everyone is happy!’” Mephone ranted, his tone becoming mocking towards the end.
“Oh, so me caring about you is ‘nagging’ now?” OJ repeated, the exasperation growing in his voice.
“Yeah, pretty much!”
“Fine! Then I give up, is that what you want? I’ll just leave you here forever, I’ll let you marinate in all of the depression and guilt until the very fortunate day comes where you decide to stop being so fucking selfish and fix yourself!” he retorted.
After his explosion, OJ shot up from the bed and walked out, his footsteps heavy with aggravation as he slammed the door shut behind him. He leaned against the wall beside Mephone's door, slumping down a little as he buried his face in his hands, trying to slow down his rushed, heavy breaths.
…
He sighed. Damn it, he probably shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.