[ Crush Culture. ] 🐞 [ A Nickloon Story ]

[ Three: It's Totally Platonic! ]

Alternate Title: Beware of Adorable Chubby Forgivable Skydivers, They Could Be Wizards or Homosexual

nickel is down bad for a pencil

also sally face reference go brrrr

NICKEL POV

I keep getting this weird feeling inside, it's almost like I'm-... sad? For another person? Is that a real thing?

And of all people, I'm sad for Balloon.

I'm too guilty to eat all my papato chisps, so I fold the baggy up and plop it down on the countertop of the kitchen, down at Hotel OJ. 

"You okay there, big guy?" Knife looked over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy?!" I barked at him. He rolled his eyes. 

"You've been talking to Balloon lately, right? You seem... on-edge." Knife cooed. "Obviously. Balloon likes me now."

"Well you obviously like him."

"No, I don't... he's awful! We're enemies! He needs to stop thinking we aren't! I'm starting to think he's a witch.."

"Why??"

"He put a spell on me!" I spat. "He made me all queasy and—"

"You're gay?"

I looked at Knife. "What?! No— that's not— no!" He just smirked at me.

 "You gonna tell that to all those magazines in your room?"

I thought back to the magazine issue I subscribed to a few months ago, with the pretty pencil boy on the cover. Which I subscribed to because of the shopping catalogue, by the way. 

"E-Excuse me?!" I shouted,  face turning red. "How did you find out about— WERE YOU IN MY ROOM?!"

Knife scoffed, rolling his shoulders back. I just stared at him, mouth agape. "Unbelievable."

I started to step away, turning. "What? Nothing wrong with that..."  Knife mumbled. 

"Yes, there is!" I shivered. struck with despair. "It's- wrong! I don't like Balloon! Especially not like that! There's..." My voice trailed off. "It's... not the way I should feel!"

Knife stared at me for a second, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, are you-..."

I would walk away, sitting on the couch, picking up my knees and pressing them to where my chest would be. Knife sat down. "Can I just watch TV?" 

"You know, you don't have to be-"

"Yes, I do."

He looked at me, pity drizzled in his eyes. A familiar look of pity, that seems to follow me wherever I go. 

"There's nothing... wrong with how you feel. I don't know why you think that, but—" I scrunched up my face. "If that's a part of who you are..." He clearly didn't know how to talk to people about this. Or anything.

"Nope." I got up off the couch. "Thank you so much for the help, weatherboy." 

I walked up the staircase, stopping at the hallway of bedrooms. The striped wallpaper looked like it was straight out of some sort of fictional world, and it strangely seemed to be mocking me.   I walked in to my room, labeled 'Nickel' on a small gold-painted plaque. DO NOT ENTER  is etched  on the door in pencil. 

I swing the door open, and slam it shut, just so the whole hotel knows I'm pissed. I slump down on the bed and scowl. I'm not an idiot. I know how I feel about Balloon, as terrible as I feel confessing it, I just don't want  to know. I can't imagine what will happen if I-... say anything. 

What if he tells the whole hotel? Or... if he just calls me gross and leaves, and doesn't wanna talk to me again? I bite down on the inside of my cheek, and within seconds I can feel that I bit way too hard and I taste blood. 

I just wish I could tell someone. I pull a blanket over my 'waist' and just... think. Why does he even want to be my friend? I feel guilty for even having the thought that maybe, just maybe... he likes me too. 

I savor the thought for a moment.

No, I'm not giving you the specifics.

A knock on my door snaps me out of a fantasy, as I groan dramatically. I get up to open the door— and I'm met with a familiar face.

"Soap."

If I can tell anyone, I can probably tell her-...

She looks at me funny, like he can tell I've been crying. She probably can. "Nickel! What the heck happened?!" She says in a slightly panicked tone.

 "I can explain..." 

"Really?"

"If you give me about forty-five seconds to think of a lie."

She just looks at me funny again. I sigh. "...Can you—..." I cut myself off. "Keep a secret?"

Soap nods slowly. "...Ehm... I think?"

And opening up to that  motherfucker was the worst mistake of my life, I swear. 

"Soap, I have- I-... oh my God." 

She raises an eyebrow at me. 

"I've been... having trouble... lately." 

Soap stared at me for a moment, thinking. 

"With?"

"I'm only gonna say this once, because if you go blabbing to the whole hotel, I'll kill you." I mumbled.

Soap nodded again, ears open. 

"I'm not... heterosexual, I think." 

Soap's jaw dropped a little, it took her a second to get her composure back. "Well! That's— wonderful! I- dunno what to say, I uh..." 

"Shut up..." I mumbled. She shook her head and beamed. "No! Thank you for— for telling me, I... I'm at a loss for words! I'm proud of you!"

I grumbled, feeling Soap wrap her arms around me. 

"I have rabies." I said, which immediately convinced her to get off of me. Heh, works every time. 

I cackled, laughing at Soap. "HEY!!" She rebuttaled. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not all that in to guys." She hummed.

I looked at her for a second.

We're gonna be friends. 

Damnit.

We're gonna be friends.