It was always an odd sight to see the theater so empty, even long after closing hours. Of course, there were always a few stranglers here and then, enjoying the soothing night before the madness of the following morning. The Electric Mayhem would often cluster themselves in roundabout corners, dawdling on about both past and soon to come events, crooning themselves until even flies grew tired of their presence. Gonzo was likely to be scheming out new "ideas" for his next greatest numbers, at least how he would have put it. It wasn't abnormal to hear a few shrieks, a fire of a distant cannon from a certain dressing room, or anything mildly concerning to a typical passerby. A few dancers would practice their routine numbers, with feet flying like the storming winds outside. Janitors would be drooling on tables that they would have to clean later in the week, while circus tamers cooed and itched the ears of their savage beasts.
Kermit jolted. Before realizing the click of a pen was what had fallen off his desk, he had blinked out of a weary gaze. The storm had been ruthless, stripping even the fattest robins of their clumped and chipped feathers. Robin. He glanced up at the clock, embedded in the darkest shadows of his clustered office. His nephew was supposed to stay at a friend's house for the night, and a call was made earlier in the day by a mother to confirm that assumption. It didn't stop Kermit's frantic eyes, or the jittering hand that wrote on the rich paper. He knew he was overthinking things, if anything it would have been his signature move. Robin was the only thing left that ever truly mattered to him, and if Kermit even thought about the loss–
He snatched the pen off the ground, mumbling a groan as he plopped it back on his desk. Now wasn't the time for pondering meager fantasies. Bills demanded payment, schedules awaited for another five major arrangements, costumes scurried for ordering and reordering, speakers changed, stage numbers replaced, and who knew what else. Kermit gave an involuntary shiver, before reaching for the next stack of papers lying lazily on his desk. His eyes spiked with annoyance.
This was about the tenth time in only a few days Piggy asked for an extra number, or even to cancel previous ones to insert new ones. But that fact wasn't the thing that bothered him. In honesty, he never cared much for it, as it was almost a common courtesy for everyone to change their dreams every five seconds they decided to breathe. No, he was annoyed because she simply wanted the attention. To get him to speak, to look at her, to have to think about her. Kermit was positive even if she wasn't a performer, that woman would still find a way around "business" with him. The amount of perfumes she put on for a day-to-to basis was utter nonsense, an unceasing knock on a mysterious door. Kermit rubbed his chest in soreness, but shoved the feeling violently out of his thoughts.
"Kermit? Kermit!" The frog's face stoned at the recognition of another, turning to see a wad of brown fuzz blocking his vision. Fozzie wore an exhausted grin, like a clown forced into daycare one too many times. "I didn't know if you already left!" Kermit pushed the documents away with sedation, never breaking eye trance. "You need another one?" The bear squirmed sheepishly.
Fozzie never had the ability to afford his own car, forcing his reliance to fabricate upon late buses and the kindness of others. Kermit could sympathize with that idea deeper than Fozzie could imagine, remembering those dark nights hunting for cheap hotels, Robin cradled peacefully in his small bundle of blankets, as his uncle tirelessly drove through miles of towns. Kermit blinked leisurely, trying to stab out the sleep infested within his eyes. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll pack up."
The frog had done just that, before giving a side glance back at Piggy's request, laying patiently under the soft office lights. I'll hear it tomorrow. But tonight I'm going home. He knew he'd likely regret that decision, but the idea of his sweet nephew thrashed and choked Kermit away from that doubt. He at least wanted to call that mother again to be certain everything was truly alright.
"You looked a bit tired back there." It took the frog a minute to even notice Fozzie's question was aimed toward him, jingling his keys five times over to find the one for his car. The previous storm had soothed itself for a time, still drizzling droplets thick with heat against sweating bodies. Kermit strained his eyes through the thick night shadows, and could have sworn that anxiety was striking the bear's face; he shoved that thought away, like everything else. Kermit gave a half, air-thinned chuckle. "Since when aren't any of us?"
"Kermit, as shocking as it is, I wasn't trying to make a pun there. You're looking more and more exhausted every time I come to see you." Kermit's only response was the opening and slamming of the driver door. Fozzie quickly followed suit as the passenger. Before the bear could make another argument, the engine was brashly switched on, grumbling booms of exhausts. Fozzie nearly fumed his own, grabbing Kermit by the flimsy arm. The frog stared back with a face of a cold corpse. "You're scaring me, Kermit…and I don't mean that lightly." Despite any refute he could have collaborated in that moment, Kermit just couldn't stand those eyes. Glossed over in the moonlight. Paled with doubt. Starved of love. It was those same eyes he dreaded Robin of ever bearing.
Maybe Fozzie had a point, perhaps he was just tired. Perhaps his body felt colder than it had been the week before. Perhaps his soul was dulling to nothing. He hacked the feeling away with an axe, an axe he clung to for dear life. For the sake of the moment, the frog bent a smile; it was like trying to watch a piece of stone shiver. "Fozzie, it's okay. Really, I'm fine. It's just been…a rough week was all." The bear still lingered a look, before accepting the story. "If you say so.." The rest of that drive had mostly been silent, aside from the now and then of the wind against the car frame.
Kermit allowed the streetlights to pull him in a dreary state, a world where he felt that he belonged. A place where he never felt hollow, where he never had to open dull scars, a place where he could finally feel something. But of course, such a place never existed. Never in the swamp, never with the Muppets, and never in that car alone with his best friend.
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading the first chapter! In the context of this story, the setting takes place during the Muppet Show's airtime, and most recent events are based upon those episodes. This is also before many of the Muppet movies really happened. I thought to add this note, so that way the story makes more sense in later chapters. All criticism is appreciated!
I do not own any Muppets properties, and neither do I make money off of this story. All reserved rights go to the Jim Henson Company, Disney, and all other original creators.