Hardlight, Clouded Sight

A decade is a long time to love someone who isn't there.

Luis stares at the screen in front of them and feels overwhelmed. Part of them thinks they should be writing a song about this. Or trying to get ahead of the PR rush. Or seeing if their warranty has been voided and the contract annulled.

Part of them thinks that they should be seeing if Tot was still alive.

When you've lived as long as they had, little things like 'being in love with someone' gets screwed up a lot. In that was, Blaseball was a lot like having a love life. After all. People keep leaving in ways that make you wonder why you'd be so stupid as to try in the first place.

There were already news articles being written. "Baltimore Crabs Return", "Crabs Scout Three New Teams" "Oh Fuck, Not This Shit Again." Luis shook their head. They were still dulled from the Big Leagues. It didn't feel right to be happy again this soon.

It was impossible for any one to articulate exactly how fucked up it had been up there. They just wanted some time to acclimate again. Try and get used to the darkness.

If only.

The phone linked into their HUD slides into the screen, and almost gets instantly ignored if not for the name. TaterTot burns in their vision, gently shaking to get attention as if they could see anything but it. It had been a few hours since touchdown. Since they had gotten out of that shitty field and past all the lights and cameras. A part of Luis had wanted to just stay curled up inside of the shell forever, gentle glow of pink illuminating the small space. Or just stay with Pedro.

It had started out because he had the only electronics capable of hosting them. Neither of them were looking for an attachment. Neither of them felt like there was anything good to be gained from that place. But as the months turned into a year and the year turned into years, they spend more and more time around eachother. Pedro wouldn't leave the shell, and Luis found less and less reason to also. They spoke in their own little secret world, confiding to each other things that neither of them expected to leave the prison they had been trapped in.

So, what did any of that mean now? Should they be happy to be out? To be projected to the masses again? To be sold and idolized? Could broken hearts be expected to be mended? Would Pedro even want to stay with them, now that he could talk to Val again?

Luis' glow flickers in the darkness as they draw their knees up to their chest.

A voicemail sits in their inbox.