It started out as a feeling
The moonlight barely permeated the clouds, thick and polluted, they choked her beautiful rays. This sight was saddening to the optic eyes of the sriped stichpunk, gazing from his window as if waiting for the stars to show. He turned and sighed, nothing to this prison, his prison. He smiled, though there were always moments of happiness.
Which then grew into a hope
The voice was one he heard so many times before, it was familiar and unsure. He turned to see his one-eyed friend smiling at him, asking if he was okay. His concern. It touched the artist in a way not many could. He nodded his reply, they never shared words, they never needed to. The other came closer and looked out the window, standing beside the artist. He spoke, of the stars, echoing his thoughts from earlier. The artist nodded, coming to stand beside him. He leaned, barely brushing against him.
Which then turned into a quiet thought
He couldn't help but feel a peace that he'd never felt before as he stood there next to this friend, this brother that he'd known for as long as he could remember. He'd never loved before, but he loved him, in a way only brothers could love one another. He wondered if the other felt the same, did he love him like that? Or was he just the friend? The thought had often crossed the troubled one's mind, one clear thought through the rest. He looked up at him, at the flawed side of his face. He'd never seen it as a flaw, flaws were beautiful to the artistic eye. 5 was beautiful to him.
Which then turned into a quiet word
He still looked up at the other, not noticing the other looking at him. He felt a hand on his cheek, and the voice asked if he was alright again. He nodded and wrapped his arms around his waist. His voice was nothing but a quiet murmur, "I always am...As long as you always come back..." The other was confused by this, but put his arms around him anyway. He liked it when the little doll was like this, it was so rare otherwise.
I'll come back
They stayed like that for a while, just sharing the warmest of hugs. The smaller stitchpunk felt light hearted, happy even. The one-eyed doll smiled at him, "I'll always come back..." His words made the smaller one feel safer.
When you call me
They broke the embrace and shared a meaningful look. The striped doll didn't doubt that this was his brother, his best friend, his mentor. The taller of the two turned and started to leave, then turned to him and smiled the warmest of smiles, "Just call me if you need me. I'll come back..." The artist nodded and returned he smile, expressing more love than any romance could ever match.
No need to say goodbye.