Nekro-Narcissistic

Chapter 12 - PMT/TLC

[TW-Violence against a crab]

"Fan!"

Paintbrush crouched down, wrapping their long and lanky arms around the tiny Fan. He shook away his shock, as well as the disappointment that it wasn't MePhone. Then, excitement started crawling up his spine.

"PAINTBRUSH!!"

He wrapped his short arms around the tall brush.

"Awh, hey! What was it you called me? MePhone??"

They picked up the little man, a bright smile painted across their face.

"Do I look like a fat slob to you??"

They joked.

Fan shook his head cheerily.

"I was just- well I don't know what I was thinking!! But I'm even happier that it's you!!"

He flailed his arms around in the air till the brush placed him gently on the ground. Their height difference was staggering, but this didn't intimidate him. Unlike OJ, Paintbrush and he had a history, or at least a personal history. Fan's I.I. obsession surely included OJ in the mix, as well as Paintbrush, but they were friends, or at the least, Bright Lights. And that bright smile that plagued his face just wouldn't go away.

OJ couldn't take his eyes off them either. He didn't know what exactly had put him on edge, but the sight of them made his stomach turn unpleasantly, even more so as the tall object walked towards him.

"Hey, OJ!"

They extended a hand to him. He did not shake it.

"What, why the long face?"

Paintbrush asked, tilting their head slightly. Their messy bristles fell over one side of their face, obscuring it.

Fan stood just behind Paintbrush, as if they'd protect him from the hotel manager. Fan couldn't quite describe just how much he was terrified of the man, and he was even more humiliated to admit it, or how he'd been quite literally shut up.

OJ looked them up and down.

"Come on. Look, if there's any bad feelings between us still, you can tell me. Everything that happened back on that island- we can work it out right?"

"..Huh?"

He asked, stupefied.

"The Thinkers, OJ."

Their smile didn't falter as they gave OJ a friendly pat on the back. They stepped away from him, before turning back once more.

"I like the umbrella by the way! It suits you."

Paintbrush concluded.

They walked off, the small Fan following right behind them.

What the hell?

He finally snapped out of his silence, shaking his head. He had to quite literally slap himself fully back to attention. It hadn't been that long since he last saw them, and he knew Paintbrush had never had this effect on him. Was he intimidated?

Of course NOT.

He was better than that! And Paintbrush respected him, best of all. He'd lost enough allies recently, having one more could be for the better.

That's right. We were BOTH on the Thinkers. Good 'thinking,' Paintbrush.