INTERMISSION 1 - Put Your Head On My Shoulder

11 0 0
                                    

The Voice Of Thomas Connor

These blasted elevators...

Sometimes they open, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they come, sometimes they keep on going to hell and back.

I keep telling these people: if Mister Joey Drew keeps cutting corners like this, someone's sure to end up falling to their death.

And it sure ain't gonna be me.

I'm taking the stairs.

-------------------------------------

"....I just can't do it."

Barley opened his eyes from his unconscious stupor, and turned his head to find Edgar turned away from him, covering his face with three of his hands and holding a knife in the fourth. Confused yet startled, the sailor made an attempt to get up and comfort him, but soon noticed that he was strapped down onto a surgical table.

After a minute or so, Edgar finally noticed Barley looking at him, and he turned around to face him. "Oh- B-Barley..? You're awake?"

Unable to find the words to reply, he remained silent as they both awkwardly stared at each other for a few seconds.

Edgar looked down at the ground and bit his lip. "I-I, um..I suppose I should...get you off of there." he mumbled, placing down the knife and already starting to unbuckle the surgical table's straps.

Another moment of awkward silence passed, broken by Edgar giving a sigh. "I-I just....I don't know why she wants me to hurt you in specific....she-she said she wanted to help me be perfect, but...."

He trailed off and sat down against the wall, and Barley wobbily propped himself up from the table to join him there.

Edgar continued as the sailor sat next to him. "She's in the mirror...and I don't know why. She talks to me all the time about all sorts of things, you know. Sometimes it's nice, but....most of the time she's telling me what to do, or getting after me for something..." The angel said, glancing over at the mirror facing downwards on a side table with the knife.

"Is she like Buddy?"

Edgar looked at Barley with a confused expression. "...Who??"

He soon realized that Edgar had no idea what he was talking about, and he looked away, slightly embarrassed. "...Nevermind."

"You know, I just don't know how you get anxious over everything else, but when this happens, you're calm about it." Edgar questioned.

Barley thought of a response for a second. "...Maybe I thought it was another one of your 'dates'?"

"..You're such a dork."

More silence followed. "....Hey, Edgar. I wanna ask you something."

"Hm?"

"...Why..." Barley paused for a second. "Why do you....hate Henry so much?"

He watched as Edgar looked down at his shoes with a bitter expression. "....He's one of the creators."

"I know that, you've said that a whole lot...." Barley added, ".....But....what does that mean? How do you even know that he's....that?"

"The creators made us, Barley! They-they...drew us up one day and boom! We're there! Then they...then they made that machine and brought us here! I....I saw something about that 'Henry', way back when....Joey told me about him when I asked. Joey...Joey hurt us. So how do we know he won't do the same?..." He started picking at the splintered floorboards as he went silent.

Barley juggled the spider's words around in his head for a while. "...Maybe...we can get out of here without him."

Edgar glanced over to him from the floor. "...What?"

"Well...Henry...Henry promised to help me find..you and Charley, and...I think he talked about getting us out of the studio, too." He continued. "But...if he's really like Joey....do we-do we really need him?"

Edgar gave a small grin. "Looks like that's a deal we can make." He said, before his expression faded back into a sadder one. "...Every time I think of those damn creators, I get reminded that I'm not real. That I'm just some...drawing."

The angel placed one of his hands next to Barley's. "...But...I guess it was real to us."

Barley gave a nod and locked his fingers with Edgar's. "Real or not, it was nice." He added, and the two sat in comfortable silence.

They made sure right then and there that no one would separate them in that moment.

Not even the "creators".

Charley And The Swap Machine: Re-Ink'dWhere stories live. Discover now