He was always reading between the lines. Folding the paper in half to form a new conclusion, like wrinkling space time to travel the stars. He saw himself under the night sky, leaning over the edge as his partner charted the dots beside his elder mentor. He saw the way that fire fought the moon for rights to glisten against scuffed optic metals. He saw his friends, tucked away, just across the campus- or- or somewhere. They were somewhere, but it was nearby. Six felt it.

The wall wasn't missed. He could coil and tangle into blankets anywhere, and as long as Five was beside him, he was home. Yes, he felt the way sadness prickled his visions at night; an outstretched hand, a strange stitchpunk watching him fall deeply into a forgotten canyon. There was some vague knowledge of the coming of things, though he was never sure how soon they were to happen. Could be hours, could be years. At the very least, he knew it couldn't happen today. And that was enough.

Two and Five were working on a makeshift lift to bypass the broken and steep stairs. Without Seven, Eight was always on watch, and he looked stressed. One kept onto him and scavenged within eyesight. The coward was too afraid to wander further in fear the beast would take him, as well. Six kept out of the way. If he were to scavenge too, he knew he would lose himself. And then where would he be? Where would Five be? No, he would stay put.

Five's soft voice drug him from his thoughts.

"Six? Can you hand me that rope?" he asked, his dilated, dark pupil imploring.

Taking a moment to process, he gave a nod. Six scrambled to find the rope, then trotted and bestowed it with great enthusiasm. He was happy to be a help.

Five smiled genuinely, and the hunched doll's soul melted. He patted Six's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Welcome!"

The other kept eye contact a moment longer than was considered normal, before turning back to aid a smirking Two.

Six fidgeted with his ink-chipped fingers. He let his once more unfocused eyes sweep across the open space of the lower cathedral, drinking in the light that poured from the scars in its side. Between the open wounds, he could see the dusty blue of the sky. Clouds flittered in and out, animating the light beams against the stone.

He heard One grumble irritably towards Eight about never, ever running off to get killed like Seven. And, Six thought, that was certainly an interesting way to say he cared. Behind Six, Two tinked his hands together quietly with excitement.

"I think we almost got it, boy!"

Nothing bad could happen; none of his inky visions would impede his happy heart today. For today he saw a clear sky, and tonight he would again be nestled against the side of a button. If there were evil intentions between the lines, then he certainly had not read any. It could wait. At least until the watchtower was completed, whenever that was to be.


Finishing this, since having abandoned it in 2015, is a funny feeling. It feels like the ending of an era for me to have finally wrapped this up. I love 9 and always will. 5/6 is even one of my very first gay ships, way back when I hadn't yet realized why I never liked boys the same way I liked girls. In 2014 I started college and was open about it. Then in 2015 I started dating the one who was to become my fiance. Time is supposedly linear, but it never feels that way in your memory.