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“So remind me why we’re going into Yoyle City?” Needle impatiently prompts as she trails behind Fries. “It’s not like there’s any challenges going on right now…”
“I have my reasons,” he dismissively replies ahead of her, body bobbing with each step. “And it’s not like I asked you to follow me. You can go home if you’re going to keep nagging me, Needy.”
“Don’t call me Needy,” she snaps, leaning forward to slap him. That led to the two matching one another’s pace, walking side by side. “And anyway, you’re my teammate. Pretty sure it’s my job to stay at your side. Besides, I’m not in the mood to be alone and have everyone pounce on me like I’m just a tool for them to get further. I’ve had enough of people fighting over me.”
Fries scoffs, one hand on his hip. “Dunno why they’re making such a big deal over you,” he says flatly. “Not like you’ve been helpful.”
“I’ve been on your team for one challenge,” she retorts. “And remind me who was the one to kill me?” He just rolls his eyes, remaining silent. Well, she’ll count that as a win. Fries is an abrasive asshole, so getting him to shut up is the least she can ask for.
The two come to a stop in front of some restaurant but don’t actually enter it. Fries is impatient, looking up and down the street as he scuffs the ground with his foot. Maybe his impatience transfers over to her, because after a moment she growls and barks out “So what, aren’t we going to go in? You came here to eat something, didn’t you? And by the way, I’m more than capable of paying my own bill.”
The other man stares at her blankly. “Well, I guess you can eat something if you want,” he says, sounding bored. “But I came here to meet up with someone. I did make a promise to her, after all, and you were there for it. We might as well grab a bite, considering we’re long overdo for it.”
“Grab a bite…” she slowly echoes, brow furrowed. It takes her a moment to realize why she recognizes the words, but when she does, she lurches forward. “You came here to eat food with Evil Leafy?!” she shrieks in dismay, mouth falling open as she presses a hand to her cheek.
“Yeah? Why does that matter?” he responds dismissively, staring at his nails. “And by the way, she prefers to be called El.”
“Did she… tell you that????” she prompts in bafflement.
“Well, she didn’t say it, but it’s pretty easy to tell what she means when you actually pay attention to her,” he replies, each word crisp and matter-of-fact. Talking to him reminds her of talking to Pencil, vaguely, but at least with Pencil she felt as if she was actually doing something. Even if it was just for the thrill of acknowledgment from the other woman, it felt worthwhile. But with Fries, he seems like he wouldn’t care if she fell off the face of the earth, maybe trying to revive her whenever the next challenge came around.
“Sure, fine, okay,” she says wearily, running a hand over her face in exhaustion. “So you’re friends with Ev- El, and the two of you are going on a… what? Wait, is this a date?????”
“N-No!” Fries sputters, head snapping up to properly look at her for the first time in what felt like ages. “W-Well, I didn’t call it a date! It’s not a date. No way. Although…” He trails off, evidently in thought. “Well, whatever she’s comfortable with, I guess. But I meant it more as a hangout between the two of us. As friends.”
“Seriously?” she says dryly. “Well, I’m here too.”
“Unfortunately. Not like you were invited.”
“Quit that,” she hisses, elbowing him in frustration. “Listen, the two of you may be friends, or whatever, but you’re also still my teammate. It’s my job to keep a look out for you in case you do anything dumb, like you deciding to have a dinner date with Ev- El,” she corrects, slapping herself on the wrist as she does so. She’s skeptical, but her reservations shouldn’t make her call someone something they don’t want to be called. She gets it enough with the whole Needy thing. The physical reminder sticks in her mind far better than a verbal or mental reminder would. That’s why she slaps people, after all.
“It’s not even four yet,” Fries retorts in evident impatience. “I wouldn’t call that dinner. It’s just a hangout sesh between two friends. Oh, speaking of!” He straightens to attention as he spots something, waving his hands in the air. “Yo, El! Over here!” Needle sees what he must have spotted, a blur of red making their way down the street in jerky, abrupt movements. El’s teleportation is a bizarre trick that combined with her jarring appearance makes it easy to be on edge around her, but Fries seems completely unphased as she comes to a stop next to him.
Needle is expecting her to possess him, or possess her, or just do anything remotely intimidating. Instead Fries just walks over to her and warmly slings a hand around her shoulder. Needle squints at El, and the other woman stares back at her with her piercing gaze, unblinking and unmoving. Is she even breathing…? Fries doesn’t seem daunted by any of it. Is that what friendship is?
Well, since she’s on Fries’ team for the foreseeable future, she should try to get along with him. Does that extend to his friends, too? Hesitantly, she waves at El, and much to her surprise, the other woman actually waves back, the motion stiff and jerky. That friendly motion paired with her perpetual death glare is enough to make her stifle a giggle with her hand. It cuts through the tension pretty well, if nothing else.
“It’s nice to meet you properly, I guess?” she says hesitantly, trying her best to exchange pleasantries without freaking out. In response, El nods in acknowledgement, the motion rough and jerky. She still can’t believe the two are actually having a proper conversation. She’s used to one sided chats, given that she knows Teardrop. Although she supplements her lack of speech with facial expressions alongside gestures, while El just uses the latter. “So, the two of you are… friends? Is that it?”
“Uh, duh,” Fries answers for her, arms crossed as he rolls his eyes. “I told you we were. If we’re going to be teammates, you gotta learn to trust me.”
“Because you’ve given me so many reasons to, truly,” she says with a scoff. “And anyway, I want to hear it from her,” Needle refutes coolly, pointing to El. “Just so I know this isn’t entirely one sided on your part.” She also wants confirmation she can actually trust El, but she’s not going to say that aloud to risk invoking her wrath.
After a long, heavy moment that takes physical form and presses against all of their shoulders, if El is even affected by things like that, the other woman finally nods, slowly reaching forward as she clasps Fries’ hand in her own. Her lips remain to be set in a permanent scowl, but at this moment it seems less… intense? Heavyset? It’s hard to put it into words. But she gets the sense that this is the closest El will ever get to a smile.
“You’re holding hands,” she says flatly, feeling as if she has to describe the scene in front of her to confirm what she’s seeing.
“Pretty sure that answer is good enough, yeah?” Fries says flatly. Although he manages to keep his voice dry and level, Needle notes with no small amount of morbid curiosity that his cheeks are dusted with red. “So quit being so suspicious already, will you?”
“God forbid I worry for your safety for even a second,” she says with an exasperated sigh.
“You don’t care about my safety, as a person. You’re only worried for my safety as your teammate, as a tool to get further ahead.” Fries says flatly. El’s gaze feels like it’s even more piercing as she glares at her.
Needle bristles in indignation. “That’s not true at all!” she snaps in response. “Trust me, I know what that’s like. To feel like you’re nothing but an asset for your team. I hate it! I teamed with you because you weren’t fighting over me like I was just a toy to be yanked around! I teamed with you because I know you actually see me as a person! And… I view you as a person, too. Not a very good one, but you’re still a person. That’s why I’m here. Teammates don’t actually want to spend time with each other outside of the competition unless they’re already friends with each other. That’s what I’ve learnt, anyway.”
She rubs at the back of her neck in discomfort as she finishes speaking. She hadn’t meant to ramble quite so much, but it’s not like she didn’t mean any of it. Fries’ expression remains as flat as it always does, but his words feel a little bit softer as he replies. “Right. I should have figured that out. No one would actually want to team with me because they’ll think I’d be valuable as a teammate. They’d have their own reasons. At least you’re being forthright about them instead of just trying to appeal to me.”
“Why would I want to appeal to you?” she replies with a wry smirk.
“I dunno. You seem to be worried about what other people think. Isn’t that why you played for two teams for a bit there?” And, well, Fries isn’t wrong, is he? She wanted to make Coiny and Pin happy just as much as she wanted to make Pencil and Book happy, but in the end she was just letting herself be yanked around with reckless abandon. “God, El is so much easier to talk to,” Fries mutters as an afterthought, running a hand over his face.
“She doesn’t talk at all!”
“Yeah. But she’s a great listener.” Fries says matter-of-factly. “You can really tell she’s paying attention to what she has to say. Besides, it’s not like our conversations are one sided. It’s like talking to Teardrop. You’ve talked with her before, haven’t you?”
“More than you have, I bet,” she mutters, although the words come as more of an afterthought than anything. She’s more focused on El as the woman sheepishly shifts in place, scuffing the ground with her feet at Fries’ praise. Jesus Christ, this is unbearable. She feels like such a third wheel right now. She’s so tempted to blurt out something about whether the two are in love with each other or not, but that would make things painfully awkward.
Either way, one thing is painfully, palpably clear. Fries is in love with El, or maybe El is in love with Fries, or maybe they’re both in love with each other and are too oblivious to actually be aware of it. And now that she knows that the thing between them is something she wants to have no part in. Good for them or whatever, but this is decidedly none of her business.
“Alright, well, have fun on your date,” she says, emulating Fries’ constant deadpan, dismissive delivery. She can’t help but smile when El buries her head in her hands and Fries lets out a choked sound, both of their faces turning bright red. Well, redder then… never mind. “Since she isn’t trying to kill you with anything other than kindness, this is none of my business. I’m going back.”
“It’s not a date!” Fries sputters while El frantically waves her hands in the air in mortification. “It’s just a hang out sesh! Between friends! Haven’t you or Pencil or one of the other Freesmarters ever had one of those??????”
“Pencil is a really bad example,” she whispers wryly, although the words just make her feel horribly hollow. Pencil isn’t even in the game anymore, and yet she still feels as if the other woman has an impossible amount of control over her anyway. “O-Okay, I really am leaving. If you aren’t back by tomorrow, Fries, I’m going to assume the worst.” She wags a finger at him for a moment, before it devolves into a slow, wry wave as she turns on her heel and strides away. “Bye.”
Walking through Yoyle City makes her think about the last time she was here for a competition, and then in turn makes her think of the game as a whole. She has some regrets about forming Friesmart. She should have gone with Tennis Ball, despite his holier-than-thou attitude grating on her at times. He must have gotten it from Golf Ball.
Honestly, she regrets severing all ties with Freesmart and W.O.A.H. Bunch, too. She doubts they’ll welcome her with open arms if she ever decides to return to them. She’s already turned their back on them, and loyalty is important to all of them. How could she ever hope to go crawling back to them and think that she would be accepted? How could she be so awful, so presumptuous, so desperate? She doesn’t need others to accept her, to prove her worth. She can figure that out herself. But damn it, it would be nice to not have to do any of the work herself. If she can just feel accepted where she is, it would be nice. But is sacrificing her dignity for the sake of a team really worth any of it?
At least Fries actually treats her like a person instead of a thing to fight over. It’s the… little victories? Maybe? She isn’t sure. Either way, she trudges down the streets, wishing she hadn’t bothered to walk all the way out here for someone who didn’t even want her around. Initially, when she hears rustling coming from a familiar tree, she pays it no mind, but when she hears the sound again, louder this time, she pauses, squinting at the shaking leaves on the tree she and Fries had climbed up during the previous challenge.
She remains in place for about a minute, pondering if she should say anything or not, before her patience is rewarded. A familiar personclimbs down from the tree, dusting off her lap. She’s metallic, the light of the sun shining on her, but that’s unmistakably Leafy.
Immediately, upon seeing her, Needle’s mind begins to race. Hadn’t she died? Who had recovered her? What is she doing here? But then again, where else could she go? She hadn’t meant to say anything initially, but she was so surprised she couldn’t help but take a sluggish step back, kicking up rocks and pebbles as she did so. Immediately, Leafy’s head snaps to her, and her eyes widen in fear, breath becoming strained.
There’s plenty of things she could say at that moment. In the end, though, her mouth goes with the first thing that flew into her mind. “I knew it was strange our Leafy detector sent us this way,” she cries out. Leafy winces in response, curling in on herself.
“P-Please don’t tell anyone I’m here!” she cries out in dismay. “I-I don’t know what they’ll do to me, but I don’t want-!”
“It’s fine,” Needle interjects, letting out a lofty sigh. “It’s not like anyone wants to hear what I have to say at the moment, anyway.” She rolls her eyes as she begins to stroll away, before pausing, figuring it wouldn’t cause much problems to ask Leafy a question or two, just to let her curiosity be soothed. “Since when have you been back, anyway? Who revived you?”
Leafy shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know,” she replies, voice taking on an anxious edge. Needle figures that response serves as a response to both of her questions. “You aren’t going to tell anyone, right?” She asks the question again, anxiety visible as she shifts in discomfort. She sounds like a broken record. She supposes it’s been a while since she’s spoken to anyone, so can’t expect much out of the woman’s social skills.
“No, I’m not,” she snaps, feeling frustrated. “So, that’s it, then? You’ve just been kicking around here, eating yoyleberries to survive? And the only person who knows you’re alive hasn’t told anyone else about you, obviously, or there’d be a lot more of a panic.”
In response, she just shrugs helplessly. “I know as much as you do,” she insists. “I just want to survive. Yoyleberries are the only food source I have here, but they’re also helpful in keeping me alive. Metal can survive a lot easier than a leaf can.” She rubs sheepishly at the back of her neck as she speaks, anxiously chewing at the side of her cheek.
“That makes sense,” she says wryly. “I would know.” Leafy blinks for a second before something clicks for her and her eyes widen before she bursts into laughter. She laughs and laughs and laughs, even though Needle isn’t that funny, really. After a minute, her laughs take on a more hysteric edge, and that’s the only warning she gets before the other woman bursts into sobs.
Needle just stares at her, dumbfounded, as tears trail down the other woman’s face. Even as she scrubs intently at her cheeks, more tears are quick to rush in to replace them. “S-S-Sorry,” she sobs, voice hitching as she blubbers out the word. “I-I don’t mean to cry. It’s just that you’re the first person who’s spoken to me in so long, and all of this is just so much, and I’m just…” She trails off, shoulders shaking as she doubles over.
She isn’t quite sure what she’s supposed to do. She reaches for Leafy on impulse, maybe to comfort her, but the other woman flinches away, fear filling her eyes. Needle freezes in place before slowly raising her hands in an effort to soothe her. “I-It’s fine, you’re fine!” she cries nervously. “Don’t worry, it’s all, uh…” She shuts up when she realizes how worthless her hasty words are. They’re not doing anything to calm down Leafy. “Damn it, I’m terrible at this,” she mutters, rubbing awkwardly at her arm as she hunches her shoulders.
“At least you’re actually talking to me instead of running away or trying to kill me,” Leafy whispers in response, sniffling between words. “It’s nice to be treated as an actual person for once.”
Many strange things happened today. She learnt that her current teammate was crushing on Evil Leafy, who now prefers to go by El, a crush that might be mutual. She learnt that Leafy is alive, to both of their bafflement. But somehow, actually feeling bad for Leafy was the strangest experience of all. She was so used to viewing the other woman as a villain, with no remorse or nuance attached. But she supposed in the end, Leafy was just as human as everyone else was, driven to steal Dream Island because she was hurt and angry. Would Needle have done the same?
That’s a question she can’t answer. She can hardly remember what she was like back in the original BFDI anymore. That was before Pencil had waltzed into her life, effortlessly seizing her attention without difficulty. But she doesn’t want to think about Pencil right now. It just… hurts. It’s impossible for her to tell if she’s relieved or shattered by her elimination, and she doesn’t want to find out the answer, either.
With a start, she realizes just how unbearable this conversation is. She can’t handle it, her sudden guilt and sympathy so overwhelming she can’t help but awkwardly stagger in place. She doesn’t want to feel bad for Leafy–but why? She only hated her because that’s what everyone else did, what everyone expected her to do, too. Dream Island would have become unbearable eventually, considering Firey was either an idiot or just had no backbone. Maybe both. In a way, hadn’t Leafy been doing them all a favor?
But how would everyone else react if she showed her pity for Leafy outright? Would she be disliked, or even hated? How would everyone else react if she knew Leafy was alive and yet she had no interest in spreading the word? She doesn’t want to think about it. The idea is daunting. And yet, by staying here, by continuing to talk to Leafy, she might as well be signing off on her own rejection.
“I-I talked to Ice Cube,” Leafy suddenly says of her own volition, her words coming out in a whoosh of breath. “I thought- I wanted- Well, I don’t know. I guess it just felt right.” Needle feels herself relax at the admission. At least she isn’t the only one who knows that Leafy is alive. It feels like a lot of pressure taken off of her. “Not that it went very well. I wish you had found me earlier. Maybe then I could have used you to practice. At least you’re understanding. At least you’re…” She trails off as she begins to shake like… well, like a leaf.
She can’t help but be startled by how quickly Leafy’s latched onto her, like a lonely kicked puppy wrapping herself around the leg of the first person to give her attention. Is it just because Needle’s here and others aren’t? Is it only a matter of her being here first while others aren’t? If it was someone like Fries in her place, would the woman latch onto him just as quickly? Well, if her evil counterpart is any indication, she supposes the answer to that would be yes.
“I’m not anyone special,” she says firmly as she takes a step back, determined to cut this off at the head. She’s not in the mood to talk things out with a Leafy deprived of social interaction, not when she so obviously longs for someone to outstretch a hand out to her, to give her purpose. It reminds her uncomfortably of herself, around Pencil, and the way the other woman makes her feel is nothing she’s eager to impart upon Leafy in the slightest. Hasn’t she been through enough? But thinking of it like that makes her feel even more sympathetic toward Leafy, which is the last thing she needs. “You shouldn’t- I’m not worth anything. Quit looking at me like that.”
Oddly, it’s as if the tables have been turned. Now Leafy’s the one staring at Needle, pity evident as it dances in her eyes. She shakes her head intently. “That’s not true at all, Needle!” she cries, and she can’t help but grimace in discomfort at the sound of her name coming from the other woman’s lips. It reminds her of BFDI, and the sharp pang of nostalgia as she’s thrust back to a time where she wasn’t so dependent on Pencil is… uncomfortable. “I-I know we don’t know each other that well, but you have plenty of worth to me!”
God, she’s so nice. Once more, she finds herself baffled by Firey’s decision to exclude her from Dream Island on the basis of being a mean person when she doesn’t think Leafy’s done anything purposefully cruel in her life. “Don’t say that,” she mutters with a scowl. “Don’t- Just quit it with all of this. I… I just want…” Helplessly, she finds herself longing for Pencil again. She just wants the woman to tell her what to do, bossing her around with sharp, unyielding authority that made it impossible to even think about saying no. There was an odd comfort in ripping her brain from her head and placing it in the hands of another, letting them do all her thinking for her.
Not that any of that was actually how her time on Freesmart was. Pencil was self centered and headstrong, more focused on her own success than her team’s. Needle was left to her own devices more often than not, having to figure things out for herself. But taking things into her own hands could be so stressful, knowing that if she failed she only had herself to blame. Relying on Pencil was just easy, and it’s not like the woman had any reservations about it.
“I just want to go back,” she concludes with a weary sigh. Not back home, because she doesn’t really have one of those. She just wants to sit and think about nothing at all. “My day has been long enough as is.” She neglects to talk about everything with Fries and Evil Leafy. If she were in Leafy’s shoes, she would find it uncomfortable.
“O-Oh, I’m sorry!” Leafy cries, wringing her hands as an uncomfortable expression settles on her face. “I didn’t mean to keep you. It was just nice getting to actually talk to someone. It wasn’t an argument or a chase or… Will you come back?” She switches tracks on the turn of a dime, or a turn of a nickel, she supposes… Desperation shines in her eyes, and she looks so eager for her to just say yes and be done with it.
But she isn’t Pencil. She has no interest in leashing the other woman and yanking her around at her own leisure, neglecting to think of the other’s comfort for even a moment. She has no interest in having Leafy look at her in the same way she surely looks at Pencil, frantic and worshipful and solemn. She has no interest in a friendship with the other woman to begin with. How can she expect Leafy to give her value when it’s obvious she has yet to understand her own?
Instead, Needle just swallows and looks away. “Maybe if I come back to this area,” she says dismissively, unwilling to look at the crushed expression surely settling onto Leafy’s face. “I’m going to go far in the competition, after all, so I’ll be more focused on that. I’m really popular with the voters and all.” The words feel less of a lie and more of a futile manifestation. Saying that won’t change anything, but she prays it becomes true anyway.
“Oh, well, that’s great!” Leafy cries in response, her manic energy making Needle cringe. “I-I’ll be rooting for you, since Icy was eliminated and all! I’m sure you’ll get pretty far!”
“...We’ll see,” she whispers. At least someone believes in her. After a moment, she swallows and walks away without so much as a goodbye, ignoring Leafy even as she hears the other woman clear her throat and holler goodbyes after her. She doesn’t want to give the woman anything more than she already has. The last thing she needs is a stray following behind her, glued to her heels, desperate for any scrap she has to hand out.
By the time she returns to the competition grounds, night has long since settled in. She feels exhausted, but unwilling to give into the pull of sleep just yet. She just stands in place, arms wrapped around herself as she stares down at the grass.
“Can’t sleep?” prompts a familiar voice, and she whirls around, eyes wide and breathing heavy as she meets Pencil’s eyes. She swallows, feeling her strength leave her in an instant as she stares at the now-former leader of Freesmart. Towering, infallible, all knowing, intimidating… gorgeous.
“I-I, um, guess so,” she stammers, wincing as she does so. Really? She can’t bring herself to be composed in front of someone so important? All she’s going to do is embarrass herself in front of Pencil and cause the other woman’s opinion of her to fall lower than it already is. “I’ve been feeling restless today, and Fries dragging me to Yoyle City wasn’t helpful.”
Pencil snorts as she moves closer to Needle, pressing herself against her side. She freezes at the proximity, holding her breath unconsciously. If she breathes, will it be counted as doing something wrong? Will her full acceptance into Freesmart continue to be withheld? Even though her choosing Fries as a teammate was meant to be symbolic, showing that she valued her own intelligence over the demands of others, Pencil has a way of making her crumble. She just wants the other woman to accept her. She just wants…
“Dunno what you chose that idiot for,” she scoffs dismissively, waving a hand in the air as she throws Needle a shark-like grin. “Anyone could have told you he’d be no help. Then again, I’m not sure how much worth Book will have without me, either…” She lets out a thoughtful hum as she leans back, flopping her back against the grass as she stares up at the stars, hands behind her head. “You two are better off leaving the game entirely now that I’m gone. It’s obvious how much you need me.”
Her tone is matter-of-fact and no nonsense, as if she believes just saying anything would be enough to make it so. Slowly, Needle mimics the motion, laying down on the grass as well. With every slight movement, she throws an anxious glance toward the other woman, desperate for any approval or lack thereof. She can’t bear the thought of doing something wrong… “Y-Yeah, I guess so,” she stammers, letting out an awkward laugh as she stares blankly up at the sky.
To be honest, she had been intending to argue with Pencil, but the more she had spoken, the more she had felt her resolve become ground down to dust, until she was willing enough to just sit there and take it. The other woman is so confident and matter-of-fact, anyway, so would she even be capable of winning an argument against her? Should she bother wasting her breath?
“Doesn’t look like I’ll have to wait long for a full Freesmart reunion, though,” she continues with a hum, not even glancing at Needle as she talks. She just continues staring at the night sky. Anyone would be insignificant in the wake of it, Needle supposes… “You’re definitely on your way out, and Book shouldn’t be too far behind. Then we’ll all be together again, doesn’t that sound fun?” Needle opens her mouth to answer, but she should have known by now that the question was intended as nothing more than rhetorical. “Of course, we’ll have to move out of the WTF. It’s way too small in there. Impossible for me to get any proper beauty sleep. That’s why I’m out here to begin with.” Her words contain an unspoken duh in them, as if Needle should have guessed that to be the reason before she spelt it out.
“Y-Yeah, um, that makes sense,” she agrees, trailing off as she tries desperately to collect herself. After a moment, she remembers something from the earlier challenge, and she straightens, throat bobbing. “I, um, thanks for the Leafy detector you gave me,” she begins. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Uh, yeah I did,” Pencil retorts with a scoff, rolling her eyes. “You and I both know you’re hopeless without me. Without my help, the two of you would have spent hours walking aimlessly in circles and would have been up for elimination either way.” As she speaks, she turns over, propping her chin up with one hand while the other gently trails down Needle’s chest in a soothing, mechanical motion. Her touch is enough to make her skin prickle and her hair stand on edge, and despite the brief, fleeting nature of her touch, she revels in it. More than that, she craves more. If just one finger trailing down each curve of her chest can make her heart jackhammer like this, what could multiple do? Or even Pencil’s whole hand, although desiring that makes her feel greedy.
“Still, t-thank you,” she breathes out, breath hitching on the final word as Pencil reaches the start of her waist and moves her finger back up to her shoulder blades to begin trailing down her chest all over again. “You were risking a lot for me there. I guess that’s what makes you such a good leader.” The compliment rolls off her tongue thoughtlessly. She doesn’t have to spend even a second trying to think it over before vocalizing it. She just knows Pencil is a good leader in the same way she knows Pencil to be beautiful, in the same way she knows the sky to be blue.
“Compliments won’t be the thing that make you a full Freesmart member,” Pencil haughtily declares, before reaching up to trace Needle’s cheek. “Although they are helping. Keep that up, and you might be able to get there eventually.”
Despite the way the methodical, hypnotic touch of Pencil leaves her brain scrambled, she finds herself seized by the desire to stick up for herself. This is what it’s always been about, hasn’t it? Her own individuality even as everyone else wants her to be nothing more than their teammate, a number bolstering their odds of victory. She wants to be herself, even as Pencil’s presence is enough to reduce it all in an instant. Is it that the woman is that strong, or is Needle that weak?
“Even without you, I can still get further in the game,” she tries to insist, voice carrying a strained edge to it. “I was doing just fine before I joined Freesmart, you know.”
“Puh-lease,” Pencil scoffs mockingly in reply. “You’re going to get out next challenge, or the challenge after that. Without me, you’re going to crumble. The chances of you winning are zero. But hey, don’t be too bothered by it. My hopes for you were never that high anyway.”
“I-I can win!” she cries, desperate to persuade Pencil, to hear the woman admit that she’s worth anything. “Whether you’re at my side or not, I know I’m capable of it!” She swallows, feeling powerless. “I can win,” she insists again, hating the way her voice breaks. The other woman’s silence isn’t helping her confidence, but part of her can’t help but be relieved by the lack of it. Whenever she speaks, it feels like all of her words take physical form, chipping away at Needle until there’s nothing left. Until she has no choice but to throw herself into Pencil’s arms so she can be something.
“We’ll see about that,” Pencil says haughtily as she sits up, legs sprawled against the grass. A smirk twitches at the edges of her lips as she adds “Needy.”
Instinctively, she lurches up, but instead of darting forward to slap her, she crawls forward, cupping one hand on the woman’s cheek as she stares into her piercing eyes. She feels a thrill of satisfaction when the usual steely look in Pencil’s eyes is replaced with uncertainty, as if someone who has such an airtight grip around Needle can be rendered speechless and hesitant by her. It makes her feel like she has any sort of power, finally, after so long of resigning herself to being yanked around by Pencil at the other woman’s whim.
“Don’t call me Needy,” she breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. She can feel Pencil’s breath against her cheek, warm and uneven, and it makes her skin stand on end.
Driven only by a whim, she leans forward more, only stopping when their lips meet. And then suddenly she realizes that she’s kissing Pencil, one hand still cupping her cheek while her other arm is resting in the divot between Pencil’s shoulder and neck, reaching to wrap around her back. Their legs are entangled with one another in messy knots as they revel in one another’s touch.
She’s kissing Pencil, and she freezes, her eyes that had been drifting closed in contentment flying open in realization. She doesn’t know what to do, so she freezes, waiting for Pencil to decide how she should feel about this for her. The other woman’s eyes narrow, and her hands move up to Needle’s cheeks as she leans forward in response, kissing her intensely. Oh, she’s allowed to do this? She’s allowed to enjoy it?
Encouraged by the wordless acceptance, she leans into the kiss, desperately giving as much of herself to it as she can. She gives as much as herself as she gave to Freesmart. More, even, because possibly, maybe, hysterically, part of her thinks that this kiss will be enough for Pencil to finally accept her as a full Freesmart member. Enough for Pencil to accept her, as she is, or what’s left of her after she gives all she has and never asks for it back. This kiss has to be enough, right? She’ll finally be accepted now, right?
Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her chest, leading to her desperately tightening her grip against Pencil, the kiss itself feels oddly… hollow. She’s always wanted this from Pencil. God, she wants so much from Pencil. She’s a god, and Needle is a speck of dust, lucky to have gotten her attention and luckier still to have maintained it. For once, she just wants the two of them to be standing on equal ground, to be receiving as much as she gives. She wants Pencil to look at her and be anxious of doing something wrong, if she can even imagine something like that. She just wants it to feel like she actually means something to Pencil.
But this kiss isn’t what she had wanted. Like everything between the two of them, Pencil is the one to take the lead, digging her fingers into her head and wrapping her legs around her chest, keeping the two’s faces firmly pressed into one another. Even if she tried to pull back, Pencil wouldn’t let her. She has as much control here as she always does, and Needle’s just along for the ride. She just hopes the other woman is getting something from this kiss, because she certainly isn’t.
Too much and yet not enough time passes before Pencil finally breaks the kiss, leaning back, and Needle lets her. The two are breathing heavily, staring at one another, and Needle can’t even begin to imagine the look on her face. Desperate? Plainitive? Or even, god forbid, needy? She doesn’t know what she wants. She just wants Pencil to give her more in hopes it’ll finally fill the void in her chest.
“So?” Pencil prompts after a moment of heavy, heavenly silence. “What did you think? I’m sure you’ve been wanting to do that for ages, haven’t you? Even before you joined Freesmart. I’m sure it was more than even your wildest dreams could conjure up, huh?”
God, she’s so haughty and impossibly confident, an unmovable smirk on her face. Needle half wants to lean forward and kiss it off her face, but she knows the attempt would be futile. She can’t do anything to make any sort of impact on the other woman, no matter what she does. She may as well be standing still, for all the good it does her.
“Yeah,” she whispers, desperate to please even now, even though she’s not sure what she gains from it. She’s already gotten the most she can possibly get from Pencil, hasn’t she? And yet it hadn’t been fulfilling in the slightest. But maybe if Needle keeps appealing to her, keeps trailing after her and throwing herself at her feet like the towering, all-consuming goddess she is, she’ll finally feel like she belongs. She’ll finally feel like she’s full. She’ll finally feel like she’s loved. “It was amazing. Pencil, I-!”
“You love me?” the woman interjects, cutting herself off as she studies her nails intently. The subtle rejection, the complete lack of interest in her, stings more than even getting eliminated ever could. Needle deflates, staring numbly at the ground. “Yeah, duh. Doesn’t everyone? Book and Ruby and Match and Bubble… Well, they all make it obvious. Guess that’s just a requirement for being a member of Freesmart, huh? Maybe that’s why I’m the leader, too.” Smugness exudes off of her in waves, and still, Needle can’t say that she’s wrong. How could she ever hope to argue with her?
“So, um, does that mean I get to be a full member of Freesmart now, then?” she hopefully prompts, feeling desperation swirl to life in her chest. If she can just be accepted, just have a place to go, just be looked upon by Pencil and finally feel as if she’s worth something-!
“Yeah, no,” Pencil replies, rolling her eyes. “But hey, between the compliments and the kissing, you aren’t half bad. Maybe you might be able to claw your way up to the same level as the rest of the members. For now, kiss me again. Maybe you can persuade me.” Her words are an order, not a question. And since Pencil is Freesmart’s leader, Needle’s goddess, she’s helpless to do anything more than obey.
Leaning forward again, the two’s lips meet once more. She continues to feel nothing, only a horrible, hollow feeling settled firmly between her ribs. If only Pencil could fill her up even slightly, make her feel whole… And still, there’s nothing. It’s obvious Pencil is getting far more from this than Needle is, eyes glazed over in contentment as her hands remain buried in Needle’s head.
Pencil could never love her, not in the way Needle loves her. Does Needle love her? Pencil had said she does, and her brain automatically interpreted it as the truth. Pencil can say the sky is green, and Needle would believe her unfalteringly. But she doesn’t think it’s the truth, not that it matters. Either way, Pencil clearly holds no love for her. To the other woman, she’s just a toy to be played with, her emotions as amusing as any game.
And still, she’s taking so much more satisfaction from this than Needle is. How could that be? Is it that Needle will always be eternally, painfully broken, no matter whether Pencil accepts her or not? If she can’t even feel happiness at being kissed by someone like Pencil, who towers above her, who will always be worth more than Needle, inherently, then what does make her happy?
Finally, Pencil draws back, a string of spit between their mouths. For a moment, the two are inherently, intrinsically connected, before the string breaks. Of course it gets all over Needle’s cheek instead of Pencil’s, and she brings her palm to scrub sheepishly at it as Pencil haughtily gets to her feet, unconcerned and unphased. “There we go,” she says, dusting off her lap. “Now I’m satisfied. I’m turning in for the night. Hey, if you think you can wake up early enough, I’ll take you with me. You can sleep on top of my chest, I know you’ll love that.”
“I, um-” She feels her face heat, anxiety swirling in her chest. “I think I’m good.” Part of her is tempted to offer an explanation, but she ultimately stays silent. For a brief moment, she wonders when she lost control here, but the more sensible part of her reasons that she never had it to begin with. Pencil’s ego could never have been able to give it up.
“Huh. Okay,” she replies, sounding faintly baffled. Needle doubts many people have said no to her before. “Suit yourself.” And then she strides off without so much as a goodbye. Then again, that hardly comes as a surprise. It’s rare for Pencil to think of anyone other than herself.
In the blink of an eye, Needle’s been left alone. Now the only person left to give her value is herself. She half expects the bravado she had back when she was with Fries and Leafy to come creeping back, but it doesn’t. She remains suffocatingly empty. Maybe she gave too much of herself over to Pencil as they kissed. Maybe there isn’t anything left in her anymore.
If she was fast enough, she could creep after Pencil and glue herself to her side. But if she did that, she doubts she would ever leave. She’d just be there forever, feeling herself rot until there was nothing left to call her own. She values her independence too highly for that. Well, she values it now that Pencil is gone.
So instead of trying to have others give her value, and instead of having herself give her value, she just sits on the grass, the chilly night air numbing her. Back when Pencil was around, she had felt warm enough for it to not matter.
Needle sits and cries. Whether they’re tears of joy or agony, she cries regardless, and only forces herself to her feet when the sun peeks over the horizon, spurring her to move forward when nothing else could. She spends the next day keenly aware of Pencil’s eyes trained on her, and the sensation stops being so piercing when she realizes that for once, Pencil needs her more than Needle needs her.
Normally, she’d be overjoyed at the realization. In the moment, though, she only feels one thing; agonizingly hollow.