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“C’mon Taco, let’s go home”
Home? What exactly was “home” to Taco? It wasn’t the hotel where she was being led. It was the forest- no, home is where you feel most comfortable, but that would mean being anywhere near Microphone would be home. Maybe her home was in a grave. That’s where she belonged after all. She was the one who deserved to get hit by that red line during the race, not Knife, as much as she hated the bloke.
She was the one that deserved death.
But instead, she was in a large crowd- made her head hurt, so many people, so much talking, so much noise, she wanted to cry, to run away, to hide, to hold onto Mic- going to that towering bright orange hotel. What was it named now? Hotel Hoot? Such an odd name. But that was chosen by two odd people, so it was alright she supposed. Oh what is she thinking? She doesn’t sound like herself, she feels sick, she feels like she’s being pulled underwater, unable to breathe, unable to think, ready to let herself go, to fall into death, to-
“Taco?” She forced her eyes up, to meet the one whose hand she’s holding, to see the one she disappointed, to see the one who will never forgive her, to see the one she was always coded to betray, to see the one who hates her, hates her, hates-
“Yes Microphone?” She gulped, her mouth dry as she forced herself to keep walking, to keep her mind normal, wincing at all the loud noises from the group around her.
“Just…” Microphone noticed, of course she did, lowering her gain and tone until it was quiet, to make sure Taco would be okay. “Making sure you're alright.” Alright. Was Taco alright? She had to be. She needed to be alright. Needed to be ready for the change of pace. From being all alone and hated, to a hotel and hated. Surrounded by others. Eyes always on her. Nowhere to escape too. People who are ready to attack her, to break her. And this time, since MePhone4 can no longer revive her, they’ll leave her. And then, maybe everyone will be happy.
“I’m…fine, Mic.” She finally said, finding it easy to lie to everyone but her. But Microphone. Something inside her wanted to cry even harder when she did. “I’ll be fine…because I’m with you.”
Hotel Hoot. Loud, crowded, lots of people.
Taco hated it.
It was warm without the cold outside air she was used to, there was no night sky to look up at and fall asleep under. No way to count each star as her mind traveled back to Microphone.
Speaking of which, Taco was moved into Microphone’s room. She came to admire Mic’s bed after the first feeling of a sharp thrust to the heart she didn’t recognize by seeing all the plushies again. Now that she wasn’t fearing for herself, she felt remorse for not being able to be there years ago, to be the one who gifted her all of those stuffed playthings. Taco’s side was much more…neat. Nothing special about it. Just a bed. She, in full honesty, didn’t like sleeping on it. It was too soft. She…didn’t like it. She deserved to sleep on the floor, which on the first night she tried to do- Mic didn’t stand for it however, and instead they slept together on Microphone’s bed again…It was the best sleep Taco ever had, waking up to feel Mic’s arm over her shell, snoring loudly in her ear- Usually Taco would flinch at loud sounds, but this time…she just kept still until Microphone woke up.
Another reason she couldn’t sleep was because she would stay awake, trying not to cry as she thought of MePad. She missed him. When she was told he was dead she…couldn’t help it. She knew she was going to be seen as weak but…she broke down in tears. He was the first to accept her, the first to want to help her, and the first to believe she could change. She could barely do anything without thinking of him. She could barely walk around the hotel without dragging her feet, hands over her ears as she walked past the living room full of loud music and gaming.
Speaking of gaming, she…was attempting to get better with Pickle. It was…rocky, to say the least. All they really had for interactions so far was him getting her a stool so she could reach something in the supply closet. But she supposed it was…fair. She deserved to be ridiculed and hated by others, by everyone, not just Pickle- People still flinched when they saw her, or ignored her, or dismissed themselves from a room whenever she walked in. That’s one of the few reasons why she mostly stayed in her room, much to Microphone’s contempt.
Back to Microphone, the gal was trying to get her into activities in the hotel, like trying to invite her to game nights, or the parties OJ would hold. She only went to one, and left the second she saw OJ and Paper drunkenly making out on the couch. Not that she didn’t support them, heavens no, it just disgusted her to see such crude actions in public. The only other thing she actively attended was those tea parties Tea Kettle would hold, making the tea at a perfect temperature, with different teas each time so they could explore and find out exactly what they liked. Microphone seemed to have a favor towards raspberry hibiscus tea, with two sugar cubes and a small amount of milk, macarons on the side (specifically Chocolate and Pumpkin Spice, Taco rather favored Lemon Lavender and Bourbon Pecan).
Taco remembered each detail, but for the reason she did so was…still, after all this time, she loved Microphone.
She loved being around her, and she knew Microphone felt the same. But neither wanted to sooth the tension between them- at least Taco didn’t. Whenever Microphone even dared try to bring it up, Taco excused herself to the restroom, where she washed her shell until she was able to come back out and act like nothing’s wrong. Of course, with Taco’s erudite, she knew this wasn’t healthy- for either of them, to ignore their festering feelings, but each time it was brought up, it wasn’t at the correct time. It was maladaptive to keep avoiding it however, Taco knew, but how was she to confess to the beauty who stole her heart? How was she to confess to someone so much better than her, without sounding like a fool? How was she going to, how was she supposed to, how was she supposed to give, to show, to proclaim each and every affection that twanged and beat at her heart strings each time she dared to lay her eyes upon Microphone?
Speaking of whom, the girl was laying in bed, near where Taco was, the British gal attempting to read before being caught in the twist of her thoughts, while Mic was scrolling through her phone, noises of different songs or people talking passing through before going to a different one. Microphone shifted, feeling Taco’s eyes on her, turning her head with a soft but confused smile, Taco immediately looking away with embarrassment. She had been regularly catching Taco’s eyes on her… if only Taco just let them talk… No, she couldn’t wait anymore. She let out a breath, putting her phone down to open her mouth, seeing the shorter one look back at her.
“Taco, can we…” Mic began, slowly moving to sit up as Taco let out a gulp of nervousness. “..can we please talk?”
Fffffuck. This is what Taco was scared for.. But she couldn’t run away this time, she needed to at least talk with Microphone. Last time she kept playing off Mic’s thoughts, she accidentally ruined the friendship…
“Right now? I mean, of course Microphone, for what pleasure do I owe?” She remarked, letting her British accent grow thicker in her state, attempting to gulp down the only thing that was wet in her mouth, everything else dry to the point it was humorous.
“Taco…we… I know you heard what I said that night.” Wow. Starting off strong, huh? If Taco knew this was about anything else she would’ve applauded Mic’s strength.
“What do you mean, Microphone…?” She feigned innocence, but she knew her body language was failing her, with sweat beating down on her, and her smile a bit too awkward for her liking. Microphone didn’t fall for it, her eyebrows furrowing together as she pursed her lips, before sighing and standing up.
“Taco, please…” She couldn’t keep doing this to Mic, instead looking away to not feel as much guilt. She was already feeling enough.
“Mic, you were tired…” She whispered out, getting a groan of annoyance. They both knew Taco was trying to make excuses again. She gave a sigh, looking down at the floor.
“I meant what I said Taco… I still do.” Microphone said, getting Taco to look up at her, her eyes wide with surprise. Why would Mic like- let alone love- something as horrid as her?
“Do you…feel the same?”
This was Taco’s chance. Her chance to tell her everything she felt, a chance to say how much she wanted to be held or carried by Mic again, kiss her on the lips like she craved for so long, and be able to finally call Mic her’s, a dream of hers. Her chance, to not be a fool.
However, once a fool, always a fool. Just like Mephone4 created her.
“no.”