The Jokester

Chapter 9: Again, But Different

Trigger Warnings For This Chapter: Cursing, Mental Illness Traits, Hallucinations, Homelessness, And Sex

   Pinky sighed as he gathered up wood for his fire. Now that he had slept in Brain's bed, he was beginning to realize that sleeping under a bridge wasn't great at all. It was cold, noisy, and lonely. He piled the twigs and branches together and gathered some kindling. He rolled a stick quickly, creating the friction needed to start a flame.

   The fire sparked to life, and Pinky huddled close. He missed Brain already. He hummed longingly as he thought of how intimate it had gotten the previous night. And then it was so comfortable being surrounded by the smell of Brain in that bed. Then there was breakfast... and then...

   Pinky choked on a sob as he prodded at the wood, ensuring the fire stayed lively. Did he do something wrong? Brain was being so nice to him before the plan thingy failed. Did I mess up the plan thingy, maybe? Brain was in a lot of emotional pain, that much Pinky could tell.

   As Pinky wondered about what he did wrong, he got up to get a cardboard box he saw by the bridge. He could maybe use it as a blanket. Did it freak him out that I saw things? Was I maybe not so great in the sheets? Pinky let his mind flood with negatives. The logical part of him knew none of those things were true, but he wasn't great with logic when he felt bad.

   He dragged the cardboard back to the fire, set it aside, and went back to warming himself up. He hates you. Just like everyone else.

   Just then, Pinky heard the crunching of a few leaves. He looked up quickly and stood at attention. He didn't have his knife or Brain's gun. Pinky gulped at the idea of being beaten.

   The person stepped out from behind a tree... B-Brain?!

   Pinky froze for a moment. How long had he been there?

   Brain approached slowly with his hands up. "Uh, hi there... Pinky." He lowered his arms in favor of hugging himself. He felt awkward and inadequate. "I, uh..."

   Pinky backed up. He was really uncertain about what was happening. He wasn't frightened of Brain; he was just confused. "Brain? Why are you here? How did you find me? Poit." He hates you, and now he knows you're a homeless rat!

   Brain walked over to the fire and looked Pinky in his eyes. He took a deep breath. "I, uh, came to apologize. Pinky, I-I'm so sorry."

   Pinky's body relaxed a little. He came all the way here... to say sorry... Pinky shrugged. "Apologize? For what?" He was the one who made Brain so upset. He should be the one apologizing for upsetting someone who had been so wonderful to him.

   "For what? Pinky, I yelled at you and shoved you while you had sore ribs. That's what I'm apologizing for."

   Pinky's mouth hung open in shock. "B-B-Brain... I'm the one who should say sorry! I made you sad and mad!"

   "Pinky, you didn't do that at all. I was upset that my plan failed, and I took it out on you."

   It went silent, and all that could be heard was the fire burning. After what felt like an eternity, Pinky spoke. "You're really sorry? You didn't mean to hurt me?" A bit of that tricky logic had pulled through in Pinky's mind, and he understood that Brain should be saying sorry.

   "Yes, Pinky. I'm really sorry. I-I didn't mean to hurt you. I-I..." Brain breathed a shaky breath as he fought back tears. His voice became wobbly as he talked and cried at the same time. "Pinky? Do you live here?" This man who was so sweet to him, who was eager to help, and with who he shared intimate moments, was sleeping under a bridge.