HEAD. - An Inanimate Insanity Fanfic

CHAPTER 1 - Her

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OJ sighed, pushing himself away from the desk. His head ached from the low hue of the night moon. Their gaze scoured the area blandly, blinking away the sleep as a figure opened the door to the office. Light from the silent hallway leaked inside as Paper carried a cup of coffee to the desk.

"Morning sweetie."

"Morning Paper." He rubbed his eyes, yawning.

"You fell asleep at your desk again."

"Oh. Yeah... Sorry."

Paper gave a scrunched, awkward grin. "It's not your fault."

OJ looked at the twink with a bit of confusion, coupled with the familiarity of the sentence. Paper noted that quickly, and restated the sentence.

"It's not your fault that you accidentally fell asleep at your desk again."

"Oh. Yeah..."

The man gave another tired sigh, rubbing his eyes once more and standing from his desk. He glanced at the clock upon the wall, which perched above the wardrobe, cracked for a reason he could not seem to remember.

Paper made his way over to OJ, gazing up together at the clock with curiosity. He tilted his head to make sense of why and what OJ stared for. OJ opened his mouth to speak.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"....Sorry."

"It's okay."

".....I'm sorry...."

"Dear, why do you keep apologizing like that?"

"I just feel like I need to."

"Mm." Paper turned his head to the ground, placing a hand on his tall partner's shoulder, rubbing it to provide a sense of comfort for him.

"....I'm sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. No... No."

"If you say so, hun."

The two stood there for a few moments, succumbing to the silent, jittery ticking of the clock. Paper passed an idle glance to his husband, who held his arms to his chest anxiously, an aghast look crossing his face as he had retreated to his thoughts. Paper grimaces.

"You should try to eat, OJ." He says, snapping the aforementioned to reality.

"Huh?"

"Go eat breakfast. And not just coffee."

OJ frowns, scratching the back of his head as he sighs, his eyes trailing over to the mug which grew cold. "Alright..."

"I can come with you downstairs?" Paper offered. OJ nods his thanks, and the two leave the room.

OJ winces at the fluorescent lights of the dining room. It bustled and burned with conversations of his residents. Paper moved past him to sit between Knife and Paintbrush, and the three engaged in conversation as plates and platters of breakfast options were served. OJ moved to sit with his husband, finding a spot on the floor behind Paper's chair and a plate of warm, fluffy pancakes.

Knife glanced down at the other figure, his joyful face creasing downward a tad as he looked at Paper.

"How long has he been doing that?" Knife thumbed to OJ.