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“Lightbulb!” Paintbrush exclaimed, running up to their friend seated at a near-empty lunch table. Lightbulb looked up from her dreadful looking platter of school-cafeteria food, an inquisitive look on her face to contrast Paintbrush’s desperate expression. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lightbulb said, looking around at a few of her friends that Paintbrush only vaguely knew. She got waved off by them and Paintbrush rounded a corner with her following closely behind, into a part of the school that nobody went to. It was a nice hang out spot that Paintbrush visited infrequently, the only warning against it being a wet floor sign and a growing cobweb in the corner between the ceiling and the walls.
“So Painty,” Lightbulb said, chipper as ever, “What’s the big time rush? Oh- watch ya step there, the floor could still be wet!”
Paintbrush stepped over the wet floor sign like it was nothing, shooting an unimpressed glance Lightbulb’s way. “Thanks,” They said, dusting off their jeans despite the lack of dust; a nervous habit they’d picked up over the past few years. “Anyway, I didn’t call you over here to talk about wet floors. I need advice.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” Lightbulb said, pulling two chairs out of seemingly nowhere and placing them opposing each other. “I’m great at advice.”
Despite the fact that Paintbrush seriously doubted that, they sat down in the chair that Lightbulb wasn’t circling and shifted uncomfortably until they found a vaguely comfortable position in the wooden chair. In all honesty, they would’ve gone to any of their other friends for advice if not for the fact that they had different lunch periods.
“So you know my parents, right?”
“Mr and Mrs Painty? Well sure! I’ve popped in a few times, I’m sure you remember.” Lightbulb seemed quite proud of herself, placing her fingertips loosely against her heart with a smile.
“Yeah, they weren’t impressed with how you ate oranges with the peel on. Regardless, you know that they’re pretty… uptight art connoisseurs.” Paintbrush winced at their own words, despite them knowing it to be true. Their parents had to be at every exhibit, presentation and workshop in driving distance.
“Of course! That’s where you get it from, I’ll bet.”
“Mhm. Yeah, so, there’s this big art exhibit in a weeks’ time, right- like, big, big- and they want me to attend. I sort of blanked out while they were talking- typical, I know, you don’t have to say it- and I kinda just said yes to everything they said.”
“Ooh, you got yourself into trouble, didn’t you?” Lightbulb said with a singsong tone, eyes gleaming with mirth. “I will definitely help you sneak out.”
“No, that’s… not what happened,” Paintbrush said, unease catching up to them as they wrung their hands, unable to sit still in the uncomfortable chair. They wanted to pace around the small area, tug at their hair- was this what being stir-crazy was? “They, uh. Asked if I’d have a date to bring to the exhibit. And I said… yes. Even though I don’t have a date.”
“Uh-ohh,” Lightbulb said in a teasing voice, causing Paintbrush to laugh and hit her over the head.
They composed themselves to the best of their ability, raking their hands through their hair uncoordinatedly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, because my parents seem so eager to meet this person that doesn’t even exist!”
“You could just… tell them you lied,” Lightbulb suggested mildly. Paintbrush made a thumbs-down gesture, blowing a raspberry. Their hands went back to their hair, combing through the knotless blonde.
“Well what if you faked it? Had one of your pals pretend to be your more-than-pal for the exhibition thingy?” Lightbulb said, and for a moment Paintbrush paused the hands that continued to muss up their hair.
For an honest moment, they considered the idea.
“No, that’d never work,” Paintbrush mumbled, standing up and beginning to pace in the small area, keeping behind the wet floor sign. “My parents know that Marsh is dating Bow and Apple, and OJ is dating Paper… Silver would rather die and he’d probably ask me to pay him too, Cabby would get too nervous and end up as a no-show, Fan and Test Tube are good actors but they’d probably create a space-time portal in the middle of the exhibit…”
“Well, what about me?” Lightbulb asked breezily.
Paintbrush looked over at her disdainfully, cocking an eyebrow. Lightbulb continued, making extreme gestures with her hands. “I mean, your parents know me well enough, but not too well to think we’d come up with such a genius plan together. Besides, I’m a bit of a steal if I do say so myself! And I know that you don’t want space-time portals in the middle of the exhibit now! We’re off to a great start!”
“You’re telling me,” Paintbrush said, holding their hands at eye-level as they tried to process what had been said. “You think that I should get someone to pretend to be my date for the art exhibition- and this would mean pulling out all the stops, meeting the parents and everything- and you also think that this person should be you?”
Lightbulb didn’t seem to see the issue. She merely shrugged. “Well why not? I’ve already met your parents, and they like me well enough! At least, I hope they do, considering this plan won’t work as good if they don’t!”
“Why have you defaulted to believing that I’m gonna go along with this ‘plan’ of yours?”
“Because you don’t seem to have a better idea.” As she said this, she stood up and touched Paintbrush’s nose with her fingertip teasingly. “And you know it’s a good one! I’m pretty bright if I do say so myself. You’re lucky to have me as your not-date date!”
As much as Paintbrush hated to admit it, and the fact that they still felt skeptical of Lightbulb’s ability to act properly in a formal environment, she had a point. There was no way they were going to let their parents down by not bringing anyone, and they didn’t really have many other options.
“Painty,” Lightbulb said, her voice more serious as she saw the gears turning in Paintbrush’s head. “It’ll be fine, alright? Just for the night, then you can tell your parents you broke up with me or whatever the hell lie we come up with. The only real downside to this is that we won’t be able to go to each other’s houses for a while since it’d be kinda suspicious if we met up to play video games after a fresh break-up.”
During Lightbulb’s little spiel, her hand had made its way to Paintbrush’s shoulder, squeezing it with enough pressure to ground them, but not enough to hurt or even cause a slight ache. Paintbrush zeroed in on this for only a second before looking back to Lightbulb, their vision swimming.
With a resolute sigh, Paintbrush nodded a few times. “Alright, sure. Let’s do this.”
Lightbulb pumped her fist celebratorily. “Whoo! Alright, Operation Not-Date Dating is a go! We should probably find a better name along the way, but it’ll do. I’ve gotcha covered for your art thing!”
“Just for the art thing,” Paintbrush said. “I don’t need our quote-unquote awkward breakup stage to last longer than a month; we’ve got movies to watch.”
“You got it!”
It’s the night of the art exhibition, and Lightbulb is going to be carpooling with Paintbrush and their family. However, she still hasn’t shown up to their house and if there’s anything Paintbrush’s mum hates more than the way their dad makes oatmeal- even if she’d never admit that fact- it’s being late.
The problem that Paintbrush overlooked is that Lightbulb is late to everything.
They’re tapping their foot against the floor as they sit on the sofa, dressed up in a suit blazer that’s a size too big for them and hangs off their shoulders. One of their dad’s old ones that their parents are convinced they’ll grow into. Checking their phone to see any updates from Lightbulb, they huff under their breath.
It was typical, really. Lightbulb said she’d be five minutes- that was ten minutes ago, and Paintbrush’s mum was checking her watch as often as Paintbrush was checking their phone.
Just as Paintbrush thought their mum was ready to sigh and say that they should probably get going, there were a dozen rapid knocks at the front door. Paintbrush went to go get it, breathing a sigh of relief when they saw that Lightbulb was the one there.
Paintbrush did a quick once-over of their friend, making sure that everything was in place and that she was dressy enough for the exhibit’s standards. Lightbulb was wearing a t-shirt with a long beige blazer over it, appearing just a size too small on her. Details, Paintbrush thought, shaking their head. “Uh, come in,” They said, hoping they didn’t sound too nervous.
A complete 180 to Paintbrush, Lightbulb seemed perfectly composed. Paintbrush knew that she was alright enough at acting, but the way she placed a bouquet of flowers that Paintbrush had barely noticed on the table and shook hands with both of Paintbrush’s parents, they couldn’t help but think that this was going much, much better than they thought it would.
“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you, although I guess we’ve met before!” Lightbulb said, the sun in her voice not diminished as Paintbrush’s parents shared a slightly complexed look. “Me and your kid, we uh, started dating…”
At this, Lightbulb looked to Paintbrush. Put on the spot, they sputtered out a weak response of, “Uh… two weeks ago…?”
“Yeah, two weeks ago! Now don’t worry about me treating dear ole Painty right- I’ll be sure to take upmost care of them for as long as we’re dating. And more than that if I can help it!”
With that, Lightbulb handed them the bouquet, folding her hands over theirs. Paintbrush, much more unequipped than Lightbulb clearly was, looked away bashfully. God, this was such a bad idea. They placed the bouquet on the TV stand, smiling sheepishly at their parents. Lightbulb locked them in a hug, catching them off-guard once again.
“You owe me for those flowers, they’re expensive. Seriously, I can see why people don’t buy flowers unless it’s a special occasion- twenty bucks for those?” Lightbulb whispered into their ear, voice on the verge of sounding like a hiss. Paintbrush giggled at the comment, shaking their head wistfully.
Paintbrush’s parents seemed to think that they were giggling about some lovey-dovey topic, and maybe that was Lightbulb’s plan from the start. If there was one thing she’d always been good at, it’s making Paintbrush laugh- as much as they hate to admit it.
“I’ll pay you back for them,” Paintbrush insisted, whispering under their breath. Lightbulb rested her head on Paintbrush’s shoulder, and they registered a small shake of her head.
“Don’t bother,” she whispered, a fond sigh coming from her mouth. “What kinda date would I be if I didn’t buy you flowers?”
A fake one, Paintbrush thought, but didn’t say. Lightbulb must’ve known what they were thinking, though, as Paintbrush stiffened underneath her. The long-lasting embrace-turned-conversation stopped there, and Paintbrush’s mum insisted they get going lest they be late for the opening of the exhibit.
Paintbrush’s family car was rather small, a five-seater suited for a family of three. Lightbulb and Paintbrush were in the backseat, the parents in the drivers and passengers seat respectively.
“So…” Lightbulb said, looking toward Paintbrush as she leaned her arm against the window. The seat in the middle of the two was unoccupied, which might’ve been a little odd, but this was the same way the two always sat when Lightbulb came along for drives with Paintbrush’s family. Even for this impromptu trick, that wouldn’t change. “the weather.”
“Lightbulb, I swear to god,” Paintbrush muttered.
“It sure is, uh, cloudy!”
“You’re awful at this already.”
Paintbrush’s dad laughed at the little squabble, tilting the rearview mirror to display both of them. Paintbrush was seconds away from putting their head in their hands and admitting that all of this was a lie, that they didn’t have a date and they didn’t wanna go to a crappy uptight exhibit anyways.
“Lightbulb, mum and dad already know you,” Paintbrush supplied. “You can’t try to impress them, they saw you fall down a tree and fracture your tailbone when we were ten.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Paintbrush’s mum said, keeping her eyes on the road but contributing to the conversation regardless. “We had to rush you right over to the hospital, young lady. Your parents weren’t pleased.”
“They also weren’t surprised,” Paintbrush muttered, looking out the window. It shouldn’t be long now until they could get out of this stilted car ride conversation, push Lightbulb into a quiet area and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing stuffing things up the way she is.
The thought of what their parents would think was going on if Paintbrush and Lightbulb went off alone into a vacant part of an exhibit flashed through their mind, and they shook their head. Okay, so maybe they’d have to find Lightbulb alone in other circumstances.
Finally, the car stopped outside a fancy-looking building that Paintbrush doesn’t visit often. Paintbrush doesn’t like to come to these art exhibits if they can help it, the bright fluorescent lights and stiff, ‘polite’ conversations not feeling at all appealing.
“Come on, Painty, let’s get going,” Lightbulb said, unbuckling Paintbrush’s seatbelt. They’d zoned out once again; Paintbrush’s parents were already walking toward the building. “Or should I say sweetheart?”
“You’re too loud,” Paintbrush hissed.
“That’s kinda the point,” Lightbulb said back, voice lowered now. “We want to give people the wrong idea!”
“Can we do that without being obnoxious about it?” Paintbrush said, pushing themselves out of the car door, wary of their head scraping the top of the doorframe.
“Nope! This way is so much more fun; indulge me for a minute, would ya? I bought you flowers.”
“You didn’t have to,” Paintbrush muttered, keeping a reasonable pace behind Lightbulb’s quick steps. I’m starting to think I should’ve just told my parents I lied, they thought, watching the back of Lightbulb’s head as she strode along the pavement with confidence. This is such a bad idea.
At least their hand in hers would seem somewhat convincing.
As the duo walked inside, still holding the other’s hand- both for keeping up the quickly made façade and for the fact they didn’t want to lose each other in the crowd- they were immediately greeted by people Paintbrush only vaguely knew on account of their parents connections.
“Paintbrush! It has been too long since I’ve seen you, dear! How are you? Who is this darling lady?” Somebody asked, a warm smile on their face. Paintbrush couldn’t remember her name- Earring, maybe? Shell?
“Uh… I’m doing okay. And this is Lightbulb, my…” Paintbrush gestured to Lightbulb, hoping the smile on their face looked at least relatively real.
“I’m their girlfriend. Pleasure to meet you, lady!” Lightbulb said with confidence that Paintbrush could only wish they had in this act, outstretching the hand that wasn’t held by Paintbrush. Earring (Or was it Opal? It could’ve been Opal) took the hand, shaking it firmly a few times.
“Well that’s just wonderful! I’m very happy for the two of you. Paintbrush always seems so lonely and lost in this big place. It is quite big, isn’t it?”
“Very,” Lightbulb agreed eagerly. “We’d best be going; I’d like to see all of it before the night’s up.”
“Ah, of course! Please excuse me. I’d best be on my way regardless,” Peony (No, that didn’t seem right either) said, briskly walking away and continuing to mingle with the rest of the crowd. Paintbrush followed her with their eyes for a moment, watching her hug another person they didn’t know. Lightbulb tapped them on the shoulder, and when they turned to face her they were met with a delighted face.
“That went so well!” She whispered excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Did it? I feel like I kind of blanked out,” Paintbrush said uneasily. “You’re clearly a lot better at this than me.”
Lightbulb was silent for a few moments, her head tilted and eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were just acting awkward. Did you actually feel nervous?”
“Wh- Yes, I felt nervous! I don’t know these people and now I’ve gotta parade around the fact that I have a date to them? It’s kinda difficult!”
Choking back a laugh, Lightbulb pat Paintbrush’s back a few times. “You’ll do just fine! I mean, all you really have to do is hold my hand and talk to me. And we’re doing that right now! It’s not anything to get stressed about.”
“I guess. And it’s only for the exhibition anyway. I’m going right to bed the moment this is over,” Paintbrush whined, rubbing their eyes agitatedly.
Lightbulb sighed, leaning into their shoulder. “Ditto.”
Maybe they were both kind of exhausted already.
Paintbrush finds their dad chatting with some artists at a board, champagne flutes in his hand and cheeks red, laughing as if he was pleasantly buzzed. “Mum says it’s time to go,” They said, striding up to stand beside their dad. Lightbulb lingered beside them, hands stuck in her pockets.
Both of them were quite exhausted after spending the past twenty minutes pretending to be fancy art connoisseurs. Lightbulb had found a monocle on the ground and it kind of spiraled from there. Nobody seemed to bat an eye at the duo prancing around and dramatically falling to their knees in front of paintings, and yet their hands had stayed interlinked throughout. Once it was made clear that the night was ending they let their hands fall to their sides.
Paintbrush hadn’t expected their hands to be so cold. They were stuck in their pockets for the entire time they were looking for their dad.
“Oh, of course,” Paintbrush’s dad said, ruffling their hair even when he had to reach up to do so. Paintbrush flattened it out again bashfully, sending a weary smile to the artist their dad was talking to. “Let’s go see La- Oh, sorry, your mother, hm?”
Passing through the crowd, Paintbrush wished for Lightbulb’s hand in theirs once again. They felt themselves getting hopelessly lost all the way through the winding hallways and rooms until they were finally able to retrace their steps, breathing a sigh of relief the moment they made it to the door.
Lightbulb was already there, because of course she was for how often she got lost, it didn’t take much for her to make herself found once again.
The very moment Paintbrush was close enough to Lightbulb to do so, they hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” they muttered into her ear, loud enough that Lightbulb would hear over the tipsy chatter of the crowd yet quiet enough that nobody would overhear the conversation. “I couldn’t’ve gotten through tonight without you.”
Lightbulb seemed caught off-guard by Paintbrush’s sudden hug, frozen in place for only a second before wrapping her arms around them in return. “It’s no biggie, Painty,” She said, chuckling a bit. “Glad I could help ya.”
Paintbrush took a step away from the hug, awkwardly detangling themselves from Lightbulb’s arms. “So, uh… I think my parents are already at the car,” They said, scuffing the floor with the toe of their shoe a few times.
“Oh! Yeah, let’s go,” Lightbulb said, grinning widely. Her eyes darted left to right, and she seemed quite frazzled, but Paintbrush followed her regardless.
“You are sure you’re gonna be good catching the bus all the way back home, right?” Paintbrush asked, walking to their car. Lightbulb followed closely behind, shrugging. “I mean, I could get my parents to drive you home?”
Lightbulb huffed, shrugging once again. “I’ve caught the bus plenty of times,” she said, sounding unsure of herself. “And I don’t wanna bother your mum and dad.”
“Oh please, they’re not gonna care and you know it,” Paintbrush said, waving their hand dismissively.
Lightbulb was quiet for a few minutes, apparently realizing that this wasn’t an argument she was going to win. “Okay, fine. Ask your mum to drive me down to my good ole neighborhood avenue… thing,” Lightbulb said, hands behind her head as they continued to walk up to Paintbrush’s car and now Lightbulb’s ride home.
Paintbrush opened the door, once again wary of their height as they ducked to enter the backseat. “Hey mum, can you drive Lightbulb home?” Paintbrush asked, buckling themselves in as Lightbulb waited outside, smiling a polite smile.
“Oh, nonsense! She can stay with us for the night,” Paintbrush’s dad interjected, seemingly still a little bit tipsy from the champagne at the exhibit. If Paintbrush had to guess, he’d be a little buzzed for about an hour before he went to bed and woke up with a headache. Then mum would fry up some bacon for the morning after that. “Lightbulb can stay with us, can’t she, Ladder?”
“I thought that was the plan,” Paintbrush’s mum replied sheepishly. “If your mother wants you home, though, than I suppose I can drive you there instead.”
“I can ring my mum, see if she wants me home,” Lightbulb said, flashing her phone at Paintbrush’s parents for just a second. When given the go-ahead, she scrolled through her contacts until she found her mum, the phone ringing for a moment before she picked up.
“Hello Lightbulb, how was the art exhibition? Nice, I hope?” Lightbulb’s mum said, her voice just loud enough that Paintbrush could hear it.
“It was okay. Do you want me to come home?” Lightbulb said. She will, Lightbulb mouthed to Paintbrush.
“Ah, no! If you want to stay with Paintbrush and their family, that’s fine by me,” Lightbulb’s mum said merrily. Lightbulb stared at her screen for a few seconds, then looked back to Paintbrush with a sheepish smile.
“…Ah,” She said, quite eloquently if Paintbrush could say so themselves.
“Is that all, hon? Yes? I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Lightbulb’s mum said. She went to say something else, but Lightbulb clicked to end the call right there, a blank expression on her face.
“Well, that settles it,” Paintbrush’s mum said with a shrug, turning her key in the ignition. “Let’s head home!”
Paintbrush watched Lightbulb buckle herself in, looking much less composed than she did the night before. Pulling out her phone once again, she began to type. When she clicked send, Paintbrush felt their phone buzz in their pocket.
Lightbulb: I guess we have to pretend for longer than we thought. Sorry. :(
Paintbrush: it’s fine, don’t worry. just for tonight, and we’ll spend all of that asleep anyways :P we won’t even see each other probably
Lightbulb: Guess so.
Paintbrush frowned at their phone. It wasn’t often Lightbulb’s texts were even legible, but correct spelling and proper punctuation? That was miles past the line of something is wrong.
Paintbrush: you feeling ok?
Lightbulb: Yeah, just tired I think. Don’t worry about lil ole me ,:)
Paintbrush looked down at their screen, then up at Lightbulb. Her face was weirdly red, at least all that Paintbrush could see of it; she was avoiding Paintbrush’s eye completely, staring out the window with her phone in her lap. From a distance, Paintbrush would even say her hands looked clammy.
“If you say so…” Paintbrush muttered quietly, mostly to themselves.
Before Paintbrush knows it, the car is pulling into their driveway, the rolling fields from moments ago being apparent figments of their imagination.
Paintbrush crawls out the car after Lightbulb, feeling a little motion sick from walking around all night. They just want to crawl into bed and sleep until noon, despite that being a habit they’d be better off kicking.
“The guest room is still being renovated, isn’t it?” Paintbrush’s mom asked, not unkindly, to their dad.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Lightbulb can stay in Paintbrush’s room, I’m sure. I… I think I’m gonna go lie down for a minute.”
“Oh, yeah, that should be fine. I’ll join you in a bit, dear.”
Paintbrush couldn’t decide who’s head they wanted to put into the nearest wall. It was definitely between their parents, Lightbulb and themselves.
“Well come on, Painty-sweetheart-darling-dear-sugar-honey-iced-tea, let’s go!” Lightbulb said, forced cheer straining her voice. Okay, so it was definitely Lightbulb’s head in a wall. Paintbrush’s wrist felt sore as Lightbulb pulled them along, up the stairs and into Paintbrush’s room.
Lightbulb sleeping over wasn’t a rare occurrence in the slightest, but the guest room was being revamped since their parents found a flock of birds living in the roof last week. This room was the one that Lightbulb usually slept in, with the air mattress that their parents had recently thrown out, a detail Paintbrush would’ve loved to have remembered half an hour ago.
Lightbulb opened the door, Paintbrush’s room flooding with light as the light switch was flicked to on. Paintbrush’s room looked the same as it always did, with the small TV in the corner, piles of DVD’s and video games on either side. The glow-in-the-dark stars that they’d put on the roof when they were nine were still there, eight long years later.
“Are you ready to admit that this plan has backfired?” Paintbrush said, not as keyed-up about it as they tried to make it seem like they were. “Horribly?” They added after a few beats of silence.
“Oh please, it’s no biggie!” Lightbulb said, waving her hand dismissively. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fallen asleep on your floor, Painty. It’s just that this time it won’t be accidental while we’re watching movies!”
Paintbrush rolled their eyes at Lightbulb’s happy-go-lucky attitude, only processing the words after a few quick moments. “Who said anything about you sleeping on the floor?”
“Hm?”
“I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor, you’re the guest,” Paintbrush said. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Lightbulb shook her head rapidly, making an X with her arms. “No way, Jose. It’s your room, your bed, and my idea that got us into this mess. It really couldn’t be anyone but me that sleeps on the good ole floorboards!”
“You will sleep on that bed or so help me god.”
“Either you’re sleeping on that bed, or both of us are taking the floor. Your choice.”
It wasn’t often that Paintbrush got agitated with how painfully stubborn Lightbulb was, but this was definitely one of those rare times. Taking a deep breath, they considered their options. “alright, neither of us want the other to sleep on the floor. So why don’t we just… both take the bed?”
“…I’m not following, how would that work?” Lightbulb said, lounging on the floor listlessly. Paintbrush felt their face go slightly red.
“Just… you sleep on one side, I sleep on the other,” Paintbrush said. “I’ve got a spare blanket and pillow; it’d be a tight squeeze but-”
“No way,” Lightbulb said immediately.
“Wh- well you don’t seem to have any other ideas!” Paintbrush said, crossing their arms with a furrowed brow. “You’re the one that got us into this mess with this silly dating thing.”
“You stopped me from getting on the train!”
“Which wouldn’t have happened at all if you didn’t- wait, no, we’re not twelve, let’s stop playing the blame game, just- take the bed, would you?” Paintbrush groaned, rubbing their hand over their eye. “Or,” They added, “You could stop being difficult and both of us could take the bed.”
Lightbulb seemed to sense that this was a losing battle, biting the inside of her mouth and narrowed her eyes to the point of them being nearly closed. “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” she muttered, face red.
In all honesty, Paintbrush was just glad the petty argument was over, breathing a sigh of relief. “Alright, we’ll put a- a line, in the middle of the bed, just so there’s no… yeah.”
The two settled in, slowly growing less tense as they grew accustomed to the feeling of a person beside them. Lightbulb was the first to start to drift off to sleep; she always was, whether it was when they were having a movie night or playing games. Homework, too. Paintbrush always ended up simply giving her the answers when it became apparent she was struggling with math.
“If you start snoring, I’m telling my parents that’s why we broke up,” Paintbrush said, cracking one eye open and looking to the left, where Lightbulb was lying with barely opened eyes.
“Oh, hush,” Lightbulb said, smacking them with the back of her hand listlessly. “I’ll tell them I broke up with you because you take five hours to get yourself ready in the morning.”
Paintbrush scoffed playfully, rolling their eyes and turning onto their side to face Lightbulb. “Let’s tell them we got abducted by aliens,” they said, eyes alight with mirth, “and the real you got replaced with a perfect alien copy, just for the exhibition. And then we don’t have to break up at all; it’ll just be like it never happened.”
“You’d be the one who got the perfect alien copy,” Lightbulb said, flicking Paintbrush in the forehead and giggling. “But you’d complain that the aliens didn’t get your nose right, or something silly like that. And you’d punch it.”
Paintbrush started to snicker just a little bit too loudly, immediately hushing themselves as to not wake up their parents. “I would not. You would think that the alien copies your every move and challenge it to a dance off.”
The little competition for who would do the most absurd things with an alien copy of themselves continued for a little while longer, laughter sprinkled throughout. Lightbulb claimed that Paintbrush would dropkick a group of aliens, Paintbrush scoffed and said that she’d bite them. As Paintbrush’s eyes began to droop, Lightbulb’s yawns getting closer together and more frequent, the moon was already significantly higher in the sky than Paintbrush could’ve sworn it was five minutes ago.
Paintbrush blearily reached for their phone with a sluggish arm, the brightness of the screen making their eyes water. “Fuck, it’s past midnight,” They muttered, mostly to themselves. Lightbulb yawned and looked at them, more awake just from the sound of their voice. Paintbrush shouldn’t have said anything; she was just about to fall asleep five seconds ago! Now they were keeping her up.
“You should tell me a story,” Lightbulb said, yawning immediately after.
Rolling their eyes, they turned onto their shoulder to face Lightbulb again. “And why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’re meant to be my date, and that’s what a good partner would do. No questions asked, too, so you’re already off to a bad start.” Lightbulb blew a raspberry, giggling sleepily to herself.
Paintbrush didn’t point out the fact that nobody was around to pretend for, that the entire idea was meant to be for their parents to believe they had a date, not to start an inside joke. “I’m not telling you a bedtime story, you’re five seconds from knocking yourself out anyway.”
Lightbulb waited five seconds, looking Paintbrush directly in the eye the whole time. Embarrassed, paintbrush turned away before the full five seconds was up. “Guess that was a lie, now it’s time for a story,” Lightbulb said, the moment Paintbrush counted five seconds in their head.
Laughing and punching Lightbulb in the shoulder good-heartedly, Paintbrush thought for a second. A story, hm? “Once upon a time, there were two people who thought that pretending to date to impress one of the people’s parents was a good idea. These two people were idiots; we’ll call them Lightbulb and Paintbrush.”
Lightbulb giggled, prompting Paintbrush to continue with a cheeky smile. “They fucked around in a fancy art exhibit and continued to be complete idiots. Neither of them have started that geography report that’s due in a week, instead they’re telling stories to each other when they should be sleeping. The end.”
Clapping, lightbulb smiled on brightly. “Man, that Paintbrush character sounds really mean and judgmental,” she said, leaning her head heavier into the pillow. Paintbrush shook their head, watching as Lightbulb’s eyes fluttered closed. Her breathing did not even.
“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Lightbulb asked, her voice floaty and slow. She was deliriously tired, that much was certain.
Paintbrush decided to indulge the near-sleeping girl, sighing and saying, “Sure, go ahead.”
“Once upon a time there were… two. People, I mean. And they were best friends, such good friends, and they were us- different people. Completely unrelated. Just like in your story.”
“Mhm,” Paintbrush said, bemused.
“And- and one of these friends didn’t- they didn’t like that. That they were just best friends. Because… well, there should be more to it, I- the person wanted there to be more to it.”
“Uh.”
“And this person- they- mmh. What was I saying? I don’t remember what I was saying.”
“Lightbulb, I think you’re- I think you’re tired,” Paintbrush whispered, swiping their hand against Lightbulb’s forehead to quickly check her temperature. It was normal. “You should sleep.”
Despite Lightbulb’s previous protests against falling asleep, she was out like a light the moment after Paintbrush said that, head partially leaning against Paintbrush and leaving their left side immobilized for the moment.
Lightbulb never got to finish her story or get to whatever it was she wanted to say, and yet the few sentences she did get out stuck to Paintbrush’s mind like a bundle of annoying germs.
I- the person wanted there to be more to it.
There was no telling what that meant, so Paintbrush pointedly ignored the thought every time it surfaced in their mind. Tomorrow morning they could talk and ignore the fact that Lightbulb had said some weird, cryptic words that crawled through Paintbrush’s thoughts the moment they left themselves unattended.
Falling asleep was surprisingly easier than before; they tried to rationalize it, really they did- they were tired from the big day they’d had, it was late, they were bored.
It didn’t take long for their last thoughts to go to Lightbulb leaning against their shoulder in her sleep, the soft snores leaving her mouth that should’ve been keeping them awake, they should’ve, but they weren’t.
Paintbrush’s final thought before they blacked out was one word.
Fuck.