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“No! No, you can’t—I can’t do this to you.”
Peely stares back at him, eyes pleading for something Jonesy simply can’t give. He paces back and forth, forcing his gaze to not linger on the blender next to him.
“I’m not making a smoothie out of you,” Jonesy says, and it’s fucking crazy he has to spell it out for Peely. Isn’t that common sense? “You’re—you’re my best friend, Peely, I couldn’t—”
And not after everything they’ve been through. They had so many close calls before they reached the bunker—the people they had lost… the people Jonesy has lost… he can’t put himself through it again. It doesn’t get any easier to mourn as time passes, and he can’t—he can’t imagine himself mourning Peely.
His kind, round eyes keep staring at Jonesy, like he has come to terms with his fate before Jonesy’s stomach had even grumbled.
“You’re not even fighting it,” he says, voice trembling, “why are you not fighting it?”
Peely signs back at him. You’re my friend. I don’t want you to die.
“I don’t want you to die!” Jonesy yells back. He glances at the blender, then at Peely. “How could I—I couldn’t hurt you like this.”
I wouldn’t die like that. Not until you finish it all.
“That’s worse. You’re aware of how that’s worse, right?”
Peely lets out a sad sigh. It’s the only way. I won’t die the same way you will. I can’t starve. I’m a banana.
“You’re my banana!” Jonesy cries out, “I can’t do this!”
I am your banana. That’s why you have to do this.
Jonesy closes his eyes. Images of Peely flood his vision—all their good times, their sad times, even the joy of discovering this bunker. It couldn’t end like this. When he opens his eyes, Peely is still staring at him.
I don’t want to mourn you, Jonesy.
There are no winners in this situation.
But all in all—a smoothie couldn’t be the worst ending for him.
“You’re my best friend. I love you.”
I love you too. Let’s get that blender.