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Hero was crying before but now she was using him as a mattress again. She had fallen asleep to his soft droning voice and the monotonous sound of falling stars as they hit the ground, and perhaps her tears also tired her out. He didn’t blame her really; they’ve had quite an adventure, with all its twists and turns, setbacks and obstacles, trials and tribulations, and of course, she’s just a child. She already had so much pressure on her; a great burden selfishly placed on her shoulders and not his.
He gently shook her, just a little really, trying to see if she even could wake up to get into bed or if she was properly out. Her head lolled to the side a bit and she sluggishly blinked her eye, slowly turning her face to him. Then she reached her arms out and her hands tried childishly grabbing at RGB.
“Just this once…” he said, the languished sound of static that could be a sigh, as he picked her up. Always just this once. Not again, he swore to himself. Not more. Just this exact once. It was a mantra he repeated to himself, that he clung to like a raft, that he used only to try to convince himself, trying to dig it deep into his plastic-casing of a head.
And gods, she looked so different than how they started. A button nose, liquid legs, a missing eye, some equally missing fingers, and hair that’s had its color erased, like a sketch. A cartoon. She flopped easily into the top bed of this new House of Paint. A ragdoll by this point. Half-asleep, or maybe asleep just enough. And then, her groggy voice slurred together some words that might’ve been a sentence if she wasn’t so tired.
“Try that again? In English, please?” RGB asked as he delicately tucked her into bed. She looked so small and warm wrapped up in those thick blankets, cuddling a materialized plush bunny, getting comfortable with the pillows her size.
“…night, dad,” was the muffled response as she instinctively turned over and dug her head further into the pillow.
RGB froze. Had he heard correctly? Surely he didn’t. Surely he had something stuck in his vents. Still, his antennas twitched. His test bar mouth overflowed profusely and — Oh dear, his colors were going to stain his clothing now, weren’t they? Dreadful things, colors.
His legs gave out when he put down Hero’s boots. He grabbed onto the frame of the bunk bed and slowly lowered himself onto the bottom bed. Wow , he hadn’t realized how tired he felt. He felt a sudden heaviness in his chest that sunk down, down, down. Like a weight out in the vast, empty ocean. He practically deflated into the soft sheets of the bed, not quite feeling all there, like his body wasn’t his.
Dad.
That sinking feeling persisted; it kept sinking, and sinking, and sinking. With it came an ache he could hardly remember ever feeling in any life, previous or otherwise. It grasped at his nonexistent throat, clawing its way out as RGB choked back a sob, putting a hand up to his screen, trying to stop the test bars that make up his mouth from making a mess of colors. Not that it did anything. A steady flow of gushing blue managed to slip through his gloved fingers, staining his white glove blue. Was it cold? Is that why he was shaking? No, this was something else.
Dad.
And he promised himself he wasn’t going to get attached. He promised.
Dad.
Ha. Almost like he had a heart.
Almost .
…Huh, that’s funny.