Trauma (Tony x Sketchbook) DISCONTINUED

Chapter 2

Sketchbook whipped around, eyes widening, her pulse palpitating in fear of discovery.
She tried to say something, but no sound came out of her mouth.
A clock with long legs was staring at her, a surprised emotion on his face.
"Oh. The teacher of creativity," he said, his expression somehow softening. "Then again, I might think that creativity is an absolute waste of time, but not when you're in such a state like this."
Sketchbook wanted to hug him. The clock who taught the puppets about time!
But he was way too tall, she thought, as Sketch stared at him, inspecting him from top to bottom.
She watched the little clock hands whiz around his blue face, almost covering his eyes. Then suddenly, they snapped into reality.
It hit Sketchbook that she was staring at him. She hopped a little backwards, then smoothed the black papers wrapped around both of her wrists. She flinched a little, since they were wet and it stung badly.
"Name's Tony," he spoke, breaking the silence. He looked at Sketch questionly. "And you?"
"It's just plain Sk-Sketchbook," she said shakily, wrapping her arms around her square body, which were just a stack of papers.
"Let's get out of here," Sketch told Tony, shivering. "It's cold in-"
Sketch was cut off when Tony lifted her little square body and pulled her close, walking out of the bathroom. She turned warm in his arms, blushing rainbow colors.
Tony noticed the sudden change of temperature in Sketchbook. He peered at her shortly. Seeing her so comfortable in his arms made him smile a little, considering he made a depressed sketchbook happy.
He suddenly felt the hands on his face spinning. Tony felt uncomfortable, since he needed more hours of sleep.
At last, they reached the living room. Tony carefully set Sketchbook down on Harry's sofa.
"Stay here," he instructed. Then he disappeared into the dark, Sketch not knowing where he was off to.
Should she go and sneak off to the bathroom to finish her cutting? No. Not necessary. Tony might find out, he was speedy as hell.
So she decided to relax a little.
The silence and darkness made her uncomfortable; she wasn't used to it unless there were any others around.
Sketchbook squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the sofa.
She heard ticking getting closer and she immediately shot up. Tony was here! Sketch wanted to jump for joy.
Tony sidled up to Sketchbook, a roll of bandages in his arms. He tore off a long piece, and wrapped it around Sketch's right arm. She yelped in pain as the bandages touched her deep scars.
Finally, the clock finished with her right arm and started doing the same with the other arm. In a matter of seconds, Tony was finished.
"I never knew a small sketchbook could cut itself," Tony said, chuckling lightly, setting down the bandage roll.
"Hmph!" Sketchbook grumped, folding her stick arms. She let out a small hiss of pain as they touched her paper body.
"Time to nap, you stack of...papers," Tony chuckled, gently stroking her arms, running his gloved hands up them. Sketch laughed, and leaned on the sofa.
In a matter of seconds, she was asleep.
He gazed at her for a last time before he climbed up the wall and turned into a normal wall clock (because he was about to sleep, in case you didn't know).