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It was common, after eliminations, for Paintbrush to go back to the cabins and think, think about the game, the people, the future, think about themselves, think about things done wrong. When Cabby was eliminated, Test Tube rambled for what seemed like hours after the fact. Cabby was terrifying, a manipulator, a spy, something or other. It was hard to listen to. They were tired. They weren't even sure how much Test Tube believed herself as she sank further into extremes.
Clover was easy. Goo was easy. Test Tube was hard, but they got through it. After all, they'd have the support of their new alliance, their new family! The Thinkers were back, and they could work something out!
And then there were three.
It was hard to stomach the sinking feeling that came with Floory's elimination. Someone flipped? It was…probably Silver. And they weren't wrong about that. The look that Silver had given them, the tone. That betrayal had no right to sting as much as it did.
But then, a breath, and suddenly Candle was gone.
And Paintbrush still didn't know why.
They didn't go back to the Cabin. Not this time. They weren't sure they could stomach the sight of her bed under theirs, Silver's bed across from theirs. Not even the common room was bearable, not with that empty spot with the fuzzy carpet and pillows. That's where Floory was supposed to be.
They found themself wandering aimlessly, hands in their pockets, lamenting over what could have possibly gone so wrong. She had seemed agitated? Anxious? And–and she said something about the team not needing her anymore? As far as Paintbrush knew, this was the first time this concern had surfaced, and Candle of all people was rash about it?
Or maybe she wasn't rash. Maybe she had been lying the whole time. Gaining favor, gaining friendship, and as it weakened, she jumped over to the next group, hoping their favor would keep her alive.
God, Paintbrush wanted so badly to believe that Silver manipulated her, but even now they couldn't find it in them to give him that much credit.
They didn't even think Candle liked Silver.
In time, their wanderings put them on one of the beaches, sitting with the waves just barely lapping at their feet. They wrapped their arms over their knees and rested their head, contemplating how bad it would be to sleep outside. Was that too much?
All of this seemed like too much.
Time passed. The tides chased them backwards and eventually back on to the grass. They silently obsessed over everything to the rhythm of the wind and the cricket chirping.
Until they heard a squeak.
Not like the inani-mates, not like something alive. Like a creaking of a machine. A wheel that wasn't quite in the right position. They tensed, feeling the looming gaze of someone behind them.
Was this how Cabby got her info? Sneaking around? Stalking people? Or was it MePhone moving challenge equipment? Or someone pulling a wagon.
Whoever it was was staring at them, they were sure.
Maybe if they didn't move.
Silence lasted for a long time.
"Ah…mm." There was a weak attempt to clear her throat, the product of several minutes of trying to figure out how to start, what to say. "Paintbrush?"
Paintbrush sagged their shoulders. God they were tired. They couldn't even be angry about any of this. "Yeah…?"
"I'm, uh, I'm sorry to bother you. I've, uh." Canny twisted a pen in her fingers, spinning it around her knuckles as a nervous tick. "I thought you might be here, so, I, thought I'd, come–" she took in a sharp breath through her teeth "–check on you."
"It's fine, Cabby." Paintbrush braced against their knee and stood up. "I was just about to head back."
"No!" The sudden yell made Paintbrush turn, startled. Cabby was leaning forward in her wheelchair, one arm outstretched. The other hand had a pen. Her lap had a file. God.
"Cabby, I really don't feel like sitting around while you write a 9-part docuseries on my life right now."
She scrunched her eyebrows, then looked down at her lap. With a fumble, she snatched the file up like it was a bug she was scrambling to catch.
"Wait, no, it's, it's not that. This is–this isn't–!" she fumbled and Paintbrush stared blankly. With a deep breath, she was able to compose herself a bit better. "This isn't a file on you. This is for me." She thumbed the tab back and forth. Her face flushed "T…twelve ways to help a stressed-out…friend."
Friend was the wrong word, and she knew it. Why wasn't there any research conducted on helping a stressed-out acquaintance? Or companion? She would have even settled for peer, honestly. Her eyes darted from whatever face Paintbrush was making to her lap.
"Look, Paintbrush, I…I know a lot, but this whole…person to person thing has never really been my strong suit. After what happened today I just…I want to put on a good impression. I want to help! And make friends! And then help the friends that I've made! I mean…we're still a team, right?"
"Thinkers Forever." Paintbrush gave an unenthusiastic fist pump. Cabby, in a moment of panic, also fist pumped. It was awkward.
"Cabby, did you know this was going to happen?"
She felt her stomach drop. "No. No, I didn't. I…I didn't even think to look." Her lips pursed. "I don't think it would have helped even if I did."
"You know, people change." Paintbrush sighed, kicking the dirt. "The person you knew yesterday could be completely different today. And, y'know, maybe that new person has no issue with dropping you entirely. Or maybe they hate whatever old person used to be there."
Cabby nodded. She put her hot conversation tips away and traced the hem of her skirt. "You know, I've never had a full read on Candle, not like you and OJ and Nickel. Even Test Tube and Fan were a little…lacking for what I'm used to. Wait, hold on, that came out wrong, uh–"
Paintbrush chuckled. Was that good? Was it bitter? Was it mocking? Cabby felt beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
"I just mean, you, Paintbrush, have had so much of your life broadcast to the public. Everything I have is from the show, and that's where I draw my conclusions. Normally, that would be a terrible way to research, but since I would only be interacting with you in the same show environment, it didn't matter. I can look at you, and look at things that I know happened to you, and can logically assume that the cabin would become a place of discomfort. Therefore, in order to think about things that happened today, you would likely be outside. The exact location was a specific I didn't have, but I didn't think you would have wandered so far as the woods."
"But Candle…"
"Right. If she had an extremely well-composed resentment, an aspect of her personality she's never publicly shown–"
"It'd be way harder for you to know about it."
Cabby nodded. Paintbrush's hand found their silver headband and they tugged it off, running the other hand through their messy hair. That was a definite con of staying outside. No shampoo.
"Paintbrush, I know you only really know me through Test Tube, and that she doesn't hold me in very high regard. I know you guys don't really…like me." She paused for long enough that Paintbrush wondered if they should have cut in. "But I really think we can make this work. Yin and Yang are still here. I'm still here–you're still here. If we all try…maybe we can all learn something."
A smile cracked across Paintbrush's face, but their eyes were obscured by their hair and the dark. There was no way of knowing how genuine it was.
"I appreciate it. Cabby. I do. I think I just need some time to figure out how I feel about all this. A break from the action." Their expression soured. "I don't even want to be in the cabin right now."
"I…have a file on camping outside if you'd like. It details how to make a fire and tent, and how to stay dry and warm and all." Cabby leaned down towards her big container of folders, fingers resting just above the section labeled "C." "I-if you want I can even bring you some supplies. That way you don't have to do everything from scratch!"
"Really?"
"Yeah! Of course! And, ah, if you set up near the Pick-Nix table, you won't have to worry about food. Though I suppose that's a given."
Paintbrush turned to look at the looming sky, the seemingly endless island that was so small compared to their real home. They wondered, quietly, how things were. Snapping out of it before they were trapped in a spiral, they turned to Cabby and shrugged.
"Sure. Knock yourself out. It beats sleeping directly on the dirt." A second sentence simmered in their mouth, and Cabby nearly began to leave before they finished debating on saying it. "You could, uh, bring Yin-Yang? We could have a Thinkers Camping Trip…or something."
Cabby's eyes lit up. A bonding opportunity?? That had formed from a moment of bonding???? Was this going well?????? Was she friends with Paintbrush now????????
"Of course! I think I can easily persuade them to join us."
Paintbrush held out their hand. "Alright. Want me to get a head start?" Cabby nodded, unable to contain a grin, and passed Paintbrush the camping folder.
"Meet you at the Pick-Nix table?" She asked, fidgeting with her glasses.
"You can count on it." Paintbrush threw her a finger gun, spun on their heel, and started towards the table. Away from the cabin.
Away from Candle. Away from the Thinkers.
Away from whatever home they thought they had found.