Liar.

Chapter 3

Velleity

(n.) a wish or powerful desire for something that nonetheless is not or cannot be followed by actions meant to pursue it

Baseball wasn't sure what hurt more; his eye or his feelings. He held an ice pack to his eye with shaking hands. It'd taken him a while to actually process what'd happened in that room.

He couldn't help but replay the scene in his head, the fear glistening in Nickel's eyes— the fear directed at him. Baseball's chest ached just thinking about it, yet he couldn't stop.

Suitcase and Balloon slumped down on the couch nearby, chatting about something conventional like the weather or how their days went. Baseball couldn't be sure, their conversation felt so far away.

He drew a sharp breath, sitting around moping wouldn't fix anything. To be fair, neither would going and talking to his friends. Maybe it would cheer him up though.

"Yeah she's- she's honestly really cool."  Suitcase twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

"Suitcase, I don't know about- ACK!" Balloon began to reason, almost falling off the couch when she spotted Baseball.

Suitcase looked over too, her eyes widening as she noticed him. "Baseball..?"

Oh no, he knew that tone.

"Hi...Suitcase." Baseball's black eye burnt, still he kept the ice pack in his hand.

"What happened to your eye?" Her eyes flickered from the ice pack Baseball gripped desperately to the painfully black eye. She winced.

"Nothing..." Baseball murmured, his eyes downcast.

"Nothing?" Suitcase echoed, her arms crossed. "Baseball, that's the blackest black eye I've ever seen."

"Uhm," Baseball squirmed. "So, you know how Nickel lost his memory?"

"Please don't tell me you're saying what I think you're saying." Suitcase murmured, grimacing.

"Well, I startled him and he kind of..." He fidgeted with his jacket. "...punched me in the face."

Suitcase opened her mouth, then closed it, looking like a particularly shocked fish. "You really were saying— and he did that?" She gestured to his black eye, eyes wider than plates.

"Y-yeah.."

"Oh Baseball..." Suitcase began, her voice dripping with sympathy.

"It- it was ok." His hands shook.

"Baseball-"

"It was ok! We were happy! Everything was finally better! Everything was finally ok... and it's all gone." Baseball burst, dropping his head into his hands.

"I know, but you can't just lose all hope!" Suitcase protested, stiffening.

"Why not? There is no hope, he punched me! He looks at me with fear!" Baseball lifted his head from his hands, meeting Suitcase's eyes.

"I- uh- should I go?" Balloon squirmed, her eyes darting from Suitcase to Baseball.

"That might be for the best." Suitcase sighed, giving Balloon a smile.

"Right." She agreed, standing up quickly.

"Eleven years, Suitcase. All that time, gone. All those memories, all those feelings. They're all gone." Baseball continued, his eyes glistening.

"Test tube said he could still get his memories back! It's not like you have to build everything from the ground up." She replied, her voice shaky.

"But I do. What if he doesn't get those memories back? What if he never gets those feelings back? What if he—" Baseball let out a sob, his voice softening. "What if he never cares about me again?"

"He will," Suitcase placed a hand on Baseball's back, giving him a weak smile. "There's no doubt about it."

"You can't promise that." He smiled back, but his eyes weren't in it.

"If I know Nickel in the slightest, then you have nothing to worry about."

"You don't anymore" Baseball replied, a half-hearted laugh escaping his lips.

"Well, if everything goes wrong, at least we'll have plenty of time to learn." Suitcase sighed, giving him a grin.

He missed those kinds of interactions. With all the chaos of Nickel's memory-loss and the constant vigil he'd kept over him while he was out, he hadn't had many chances to talk to Suitcase.

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up." Baseball tried to muster a genuine-looking grin. He was pretty sure it looked more like he was baring his teeth, though.

"That's what friends are for, right?" Suitcase giggled, letting herself slump back into the couch.

"Heh, yeah. I guess you're right."

For once, the silence was comfortable. For the first time in this horrible week, he finally felt like he could relax. Like he didn't need to put on some mask for someone else, to act brave or ok. He could just be unapologetically sad, and Suitcase would be ok with it.

Nothing was better, nothing was remotely ok, but it was something. It didn't change the emptiness in his chest, or the burning bruise, but it made him smile. Maybe that was all it needed to be right now.

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A/N: he's not ok :(

Anyways uh, don't mind the really short chapter, it's like a mini chapter. It doesn't really fit anywhere else so bam, here you guys go