Work Text:
For TB,
Great friends
Silly
Helpful
Nickel wants to become.
But now Tennis Ball hates the other. And (seemingly) almost everyone else did as well.
Didn’t others do this? So sickly optimistic. So oddly inspiring. So like the ones they liked. Unlike his original self.
Nickel sees TB. Yet the other can't see anymore.
Nickel runs towards him, but he has no arms to catch him.
Nickel bumps into a tall figure, reminiscent of Tennis Ball, except it has four legs, except it has a blue color, except it has leaking oil across its legs, except it gets taller and taller and taller and taller and…
Nickel can't see him.
Far up, Tennis Ball looks down and only sees delicious white cotton candy, above them all. He can even proficiently shoot two bullets directly into his two feet without looking. It's something to gape and gawk at. Something to surpass expectations. Something to fuel his fossilized high horse. He won’t clumsily fall down onto the elementary's tiles, into that cave of self-loathing again, reeking of death's reapings of his…
acquaintances.
Golf Ball tries bringing him back, despite the lackluster arm amount, despite being smarter than him. He knows they both can't, especially him. Never the helpful, never the savior, the one. No matter how hard he tries, he will never have that similar ball quality, that similar intellect, that similar understanding both of the balls have.
He doesn't know him. Him doesn’t know he.
However, his friend Bomby, stays loyal, optimistic even.
Nickel had already tried his delicious optimism, and ate up all of it already.
And even then, other courses Bomby will take, moving on from the classes Nickel takes, like TB already has.
Futile. Always been. He shouldn't have ever ate the optimism because now, used and sad, he feels sick, puking and skipping and failing, falling down the grade levels, confused and heartbroken about friendship alongside others.
Tripping seemingly on the elementary school tiles, maybe Nickel will try to make new friends again. Getting up struggling without any useful arms, he now walks, his foot grazing the statued hoof, pumped full of gas, like a dying car.
BLAM!
From the pressure of the fuel inside the horse, it cracks, explodes, and falls, taking Tennis Ball down with it. Tennis Ball, shocked, bounces onto the ground while the fossil's remains cracking the ground and the raining oil flowing into a river, covering many into darkness.
Therefore, TB must return to his house– the cave– with his best friend, Golfie, beside him.
Never Nickel.
But, even covered in oil, he persists. Maybe changing into a funny, fruitful friend for his new teammates.
Knowing himself, Nickel doesn't think he's capable, but he'll try either way. He needs to eat someday.
…And maybe just maybe, be at least funny just for himself. As a treat!