Archive of Our Own

“You didn’t have to,” was the first thing Pin said when Coiny entered the lab, her eyes sweeping over the colorful tin in his arm. She was right; he didn’t have to, but her mouth split into a smile when she saw it, and that, these days, had become more of a need than a want.

“I wanted to,” Coiny said anyway, dropping the tin on the armrest of her chair before surfing over to Golf Ball, who was inserting something into a machine. “Morning, GB.”

Golf Ball didn’t look at him. “Coiny. Did you bring Pin a gift?”

“Yup. But you can have some too, if Pin’ll let you.”

Her reply was an unfocused hum. Coiny stepped back and took in the rest of the lab’s appearance. In the middle of the room was a large table, its surface crammed with machines, syringes, half-opened sterile packets, dauntingly large tubs of hand sanitizer that didn’t leave room for much else—all the things he knew GB was poking and prodding Pin with but didn’t like thinking about. He heard the jostling of the metal tin and his head snapped up.

“Pin.” Coiny drifted toward her. “How’re you doing?”

Pin flexed her hand against the lid. “I’m good.” On her wrist was a thick bandage. “GB’s just finishing up my tests.”

“Like always.”

“Yeah. Are these the cookies?”

“Yeah!” He reached for the tin. “I know you said you were getting more tests done today, so I thought I’d bring you a treat—”

“Coiny.” Golf Ball whipped around. “The sign on the door says no food or drink.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Pin is allowed to eat them after her appointment,” she said sternly. “But not during. Put them outside.”

“Awh, fine. I’ll be back.”

Out the door Coiny went. He only had to go as far as a few rooms down before he found the communal kitchen, really more dilapidated than useful. He dropped the tin on the counter and left.

Despite Pin’s gratefulness, she was the one who’d made the cookies. Or, it was her recipe, because the directions didn’t account for all the laborious stirring and rolling—so Coiny did the grunt work, with her there to instruct him. They were delicious, and he and Pin had already eaten most of them, but he felt like bringing a treat to her anyway.

Coiny quickly lost count of how many of Golf Ball’s appointments Pin had been subjected to since her limb regrowth, but he knew the number was steep. Sometimes it felt like GB was making up tests just to keep her there; first it was her reflexes, then her motor function, then her blood pressure, then her blood gases, whatever those were. All of it kept Pin there for ages, and some days she’d come back to the apartment late at night and apologize profusely, assuring him that she and GB just lost track of time. He hadn’t expected they would become such good friends. He didn’t mind it, but, well—

He pushed open the door to the makeshift lab and was met with a nice antiseptic smell. Pin was still sitting in her metal chair, eyes turned down, talking to a concentrating Golf Ball. She was tapping Pin’s knees with a rubber hammer, who chuckled every time it struck.

Maybe he minded a little. But only because he could run tests like this just fine. Pin didn’t need to see Golf Ball three times a week.

“How’s it look?” Coiny asked, shutting the door.

“Her reflexes could still use some work, but it’s an improvement from last week,” Golf Ball said. “I can tell the physical therapy is increasing her mobility.”

“Good.”

“Do you think I should be doing it more often, or just once a day?” Pin asked.

“Once a day is fine,” Golf Ball said, pulling back. “Otherwise you risk straining the muscles and lengthening the healing process.”

Pin made a soft oh. Golf Ball was up again, ignoring her concern, and back at the machine, examining its screen. She hummed.

“Your partial pressure levels are low,” she said.

“What?” Coiny and Pin both said.

“Your partial pressures. They measure the pressure of oxygen in your bloodstream and the amount of carbon dioxide in your body.”

“A-are her levels bad?” Coiny asked.

“They’re on the lower end of the spectrum, but not a cause for concern. At least, not yet. But”—she looked at Pin—“you would benefit from starting some breathing exercises. I’ll send you home with an instruction sheet.”

Pin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do something wrong, did I?”

“No, no,” she said. “Like I said when you got here, your body is still adjusting to its new extremities. Poor circulation is normal—I think.”

“You think?” said Coiny.

“Nothing in science is ever proven,” Golf Ball said matter-of-factly. “Also, this is my first time performing a pigment-induced limb regrowth.”

“I’m her test subject,” Pin giggled.

Golf Ball smirked. “Yes. Her sacrifice is undoubtedly beneficial for the future of scientific endeavors.”

“Her sacrifice,” Coiny said. “It sounds like Pin’s gonna die.”

“No,” she said, serious. “I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.”

“That would ruin the study,” added Pin.

Coiny nodded. For months Golf Ball had been watching Pin like a hawk, and not just out of goodwill: the limb regrowth itself was a research project for her. She’d examined Pin to no end, and run her through all kinds of imaging, and Pin was perfectly happy to oblige. In the name of science, she would say, which was definitely something she’d picked up at the lab.

Anyway, the point was that Pin couldn’t die. The intricacies of recovery and the liminal space of death—GB’s words—were factors not accounted for in the hypothesis, and she certainly wasn’t willing to account for them now. Until the project was wrapped up, Pin was featherbedded. She couldn’t go anywhere without supervision.

“Right,” Coiny said. “So, partial pressures, that’s something we need to fix?”

Golf Ball brought Pin a slip of paper. “Like I said, it isn't a concern, and the breathing exercises should mitigate the issue. I’ll test her levels at the next appointment to see if there’s been any improvement.”

Pin took it gratefully. “Thanks, GB,” she said.

“Welcome.”

“Do I need to do it right now?” she asked. On the front were a series of diagrams, each one inhaling and holding and exhaling.

“Normally I would advise it, to ensure you’re performing the exercise properly. But,” she said, looking Pin up and down contentedly, “your other tests proved normal, and your reflex function is adequate, and I trust you. You’re free to go.”

Pin grinned, toothy and cute. “Thanks. Do you want a cookie? I made them last night, but—”

“I told you not to perform any strenuous tasks—”

“—but Coiny did all the hard stuff! I just measured the ingredients,” Pin said. “I promise!”

“You should take one,” Coiny cut in, folding down the arm of the chair to help Pin up. “Otherwise they’ll be gone by like, tonight.”

“Yeah,” she said, taking his hand. “They’re gingerbread.”

Golf Ball hummed. “Festive. Are they—gingerbread men?”

“No. I couldn’t find any cookie cutters.”

“Turns out they’re pretty hard to come by in an abandoned city,” Coiny said.

“But they taste pretty good,” she said. “I made the recipe myself.”

“Tennis Ball will be here soon to look at your x-rays with me,” Golf Ball said to herself. “He might appreciate it if I got him one.”

“Fries said he liked them,” Pin offered.

“Hmm. Alright. Just this once. But don’t strain yourself again, especially since we haven’t examined your x-rays yet—”

“I’ve got it,” Coiny told GB, pushing her toward the door. “You put me in charge of taking care of her for a reason. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything crazy, ‘kay?”

“Uh,” Golf Ball said, “good. Just remember, don’t let her—”

“Lift anything heavy, push or pull too hard, or burn herself, yeah.” He smiled at Pin. “Like I said, I got it.”

Pin returned the grin and nestled her elbow in the crook of his arm. To Golf Ball, she said, “As long as my tests look good, I can keep baking, right?”

Golf Ball didn’t respond. When she reached the doorway she slid over and looked at Pin expectantly. For one moment Pin was still, but then realization dawned on her face, and she reached out and tightened her fingers masterfully around the handle, opening the door with ease. Golf Ball made a satisfied noise.

“You can continue doing everything I’ve permitted you to,” she said. “Good job.”

Pin blushed. “Thanks. Even though you’re the one that did all the hard stuff.”

“If you’re referring to the limb reshaping process, don’t. It was extremely beneficial to my scientific knowledge.”

“You had fun, is what you’re saying,” Coiny said.

Golf Ball coughed. “In a manner of speaking. C-come. I want to taste these gingerbread cookies.”

Coiny and Pin eyed each other. Coiny winked at her, and a chuckle slipped from her mouth. Golf Ball whirled around to chastise them. Their eyes cut away innocently.

Golf Ball ended up stealing three of the cookies—one for herself, one for Tennis Ball, and secretly another for herself—and entertained Coiny and Pin for as long as it took Tennis Ball to pop in and greet her cheerfully, then left them to their own devices. As Coiny led Pin out of the kitchen and up the stairs of the apartment complex, she was gnawing on her second cookie, balancing it in the same hand as Golf Ball’s instruction sheet.

“GB told me my results might look different before she tested me,” she was saying, her other arm still in Coiny’s.

“What, your, uh, partial pressures or whatever?”

“Yeah. Well, she didn’t tell me which ones exactly, but she said the cold weather would make my limbs more stiff. So it might make my circulation worse.”

“Huh,” he said. “And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“That’s what this appointment was for. She wanted to test my levels first, to see if she needed to be worried.”

“Is that why you cranked the heating up so high last night?” he asked, turning a corner on the staircase.

“Kind of. GB told me to turn the heating up when it got colder, and it was freezing last night. I had to!”

He tapped her arm. “So your limbs are, like, extra sensitive to that stuff?”

“It makes them tingly, which Golf Ball said isn’t good.”

“Right.” Golf Ball said, Golf Ball told me, yadda yadda. “So it’s gotta stay like that until it gets warmer?”

“In the apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so. Is—is that bad?”

“Ah, it’s just—” Coiny grimaced. “I don’t handle the heat well, is all. I thought I was gonna melt into a puddle last night.”

Pin jolted. “Oh! Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine!” he said quickly. “Really, Pin, don’t feel bad. I—I just didn’t know if there was a way to make my room colder. I don’t care what you do with the rest of the place.”

For a while, the objects had been residents of Yoyle City, trying to keep themselves busy with no competition. But before that, the city had been abandoned for as long as they knew; supplies and spaces with livable conditions weren’t easy to find. Most of the objects lived in this same apartment complex, a building with a meager heating and electrical system Golf Ball started up and enough apartments to be shared between everyone. Only, Coiny and Pin’s situation was unique: they were cohabiting in one apartment. Beyond sleeping in different bedrooms, they did almost everything together, for both Golf Ball and Pin’s sake (and Coiny’s, really). When it came down to it, it was just easier for them to live with each other.

“I’ll ask Golf Ball if she knows how to adjust the heating,” Pin said through a mouthful of cookie.

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” Coiny said.

“Yeah, but GB knows how to solve everything,” she said.

“What,” he joked, “and I don’t?”

“You’re not the one that set the heating system up,” she reminded him, and he shrugged. “I can call her later. I wanted to hang out with her tonight, anyway.”

That was another mechanic they’d set up after living in the apartments, only Tennis Ball had built it, a fully-functional landline system where residents could contact each other remotely. It was helpful for everyone, but Coiny was pretty sure they’d kickstarted it just so Golf Ball and Pin could talk.

He led her up another flight of stairs. “Alright, but you need to rest right now. You just got a bunch of tests done. I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“They weren’t bad,” Pin said. “Just—some exercises, x-rays, and a blood test.”

“Still. Your body’s healing. Plus, the hardest part’s always walking back home.”

“Actually, GB offered to build me some of those”—Pin gestured to the railing—“seat things that slide up and down.”

A snort. “What?”

“She said she would if my legs were really bothering me. But I couldn’t use it all the time.”

“‘Cause you still need some exercise,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“Are you gonna take her up on the offer?” he asked.

“Maybe I should,” she said. “Especially if my aches get worse once it gets colder. I would feel bad making you carry me down the stairs.”

“I don’t mind,” Coiny said. “I carried you around all the time in BFDIA.”

“Yeah, but I was tiny back then. Now I’m, uh.” She inhaled, taking a poorly-timed step and chasing her breath. “Fully grown.”

“I mean—d-do you need to stop?” Coiny said. He stopped in his tracks, jerking her back as she grabbed for purchase on his arm.

“I’m fine,” Pin gasped, lolling against his shoulder. “Just winded.”

“You aren’t just winded,” he said. “GB said your circulation’s off. Th—that’s no joke.”

“You’re right,” she acquiesced breathlessly.

“Has it been happening often? Uh, the being out of breath.”

“Just once,” she said, “this morning.”

“After the temperature dropped.”

“It’s OK,” Pin said. “When we get back home, I’ll—I’ll call GB.”

“Jeez, Pin, no. I’ll call her.”

“But—”

“You just take it easy.”

“But I like talking to her,” she said, eyelids flagging.

Coiny swallowed a groan. “You’ll probably see her later today. You said you wanted to hang out with her, didn’t you?”

“When you call, can you ask her to come over?” Pin asked. “As—as soon as she can.”

“Why does she need to—”

“She’ll know what’s wrong,” she said. “She knows how to fix it.”

“Pin, I know what’s wrong. It—it’s your oxygen, whatever, your circulation. She gave you those breathing exercises for a reason.”

“Haah.” She was kind of panting now. “Fine. But she’ll want to come over anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll tell her I’ve got it under control.” When he noticed a fat green drop of ooze on Pin’s temple, he began to doubt that sentiment a little. “No need for her to work harder than she already is.”

Pin gave a jerky nod, foot suspended on the step above.

Coiny’s arm weaseled out from hers and instead slid around her waist, holding tight to her hip. Like this—every axis of his arm pressed against her body, her beacon of support—it was hard to be mad. Golf Ball didn’t have arms; maybe she was helpful in other ways, and smart as a whip too, but she couldn’t do this for Pin. Satisfaction curled in his chest.

“D’you think you can make it?” Coiny asked, tugging her a little closer. “We only have one flight left.”

“I can. I mean—I don’t have a choice.”

“Hey, don’t think I can’t still carry you. ‘Cause if you need me to—”

“No,” Pin laughed, breaking the suspension and taking a step forward. “Come on.”

“Okay,” he said, helpless to follow her. Coiny practically pulled her up the final step, and then her feet hit flat land and she groaned.

“Thank you,” she said. “OMPF. That was hard.”

“Sorry,” he said. “C’mon. I’ll call GB when we get home. You did a great job.”

“I already miss her,” Pin moaned, probably half-joking, though it didn’t land that way. Coiny’s hand stayed put on her waist. If Pin noticed the way it tightened, she didn’t mention it.

“Hello?” the tinny voice from the other end of the phone said, a soft susurrus in the background. Coiny hiked the phone closer to his ear.

“Yeah, hey,” he said. “It’s Coiny.”

“Yes, that was obvious,” Golf Ball said. Coiny channeled his urge to retaliate into an eyeroll. “Do you need something?”

“No,” he said, “but Pin does.”

“Oh?” From the speaker he heard more shuffling, a muffled set of instructions, and then, much clearer now: “Did something happen?”

“You could say that.” Golf Ball made a worried sound. “I know you sent her home with those—those breathing exercises, but when she was walking up the stairs, she got really winded. Like, I thought she was gonna collapse.”

“Hm. That was the first time she’d experienced it? A breathless spell of that degree?”

“She said it happened this morning, too.”

“Right after the temperature dropped,” Golf Ball said pensively.

“Yeah, I thought the same.” Coiny turned and caught sight of Pin. She was laying on the couch, eyes shut peacefully, not asleep but resting. “But the heat’s working. So why’s it affecting her this bad?”

The thermostat was cranked up so high that he was certain Pin couldn’t be cold; in fact, even from a ways away he could see a warm green flush on her face. It traveled up from her cheeks to her temples, even to the corners of her eyes, and she shifted and sighed softly and only then did Coiny realize Golf Ball was talking.

“—fluid in her joints could have thickened, too. And are you familiar with vasoconstriction?”

“Am I familiar with—” He felt his own face get hot. “Uh, sorry, you cut out. What’d you say?”

“I said that keeping her space warm is incredibly important, but even so, the cold is inescapable, especially with how often she ventures outside. It can affect her body in a number of ways. For one, it increases nerve sensitivity, so if she feels her limbs tingle more often, that’s why. It also thickens the synovial fluid in her joints, so she may experience increased stiffness. And—vasoconstriction. Her blood circulation worsens. That’s likely why she had difficulty breathing.”

“Right,” Coiny said, a little exasperated. He looked away from Pin. “And she just has to… I dunno, deal with it? I mean, the fact that her limbs are hurting her this much is—”

“A necessary sacrifice,” Golf Ball interrupted. “There are treatments for every symptom I mentioned. And winter in Yoyle City is short-lived. As long as she is under my observation, she’ll be fine.”

“Under your observation?” he repeated. “You’re not”—a breathless laugh—“you’re not saying Pin has to stay with you, are you?”

“No, no,” she said, and the relief Coiny felt at her words was both palpable and embarrassing. “But I would like to see her more often.”

“What? But you already see her three times a week. That’s a lot of walking—”

“Her shortness of breath is concerning,” GB said, “but movement is integral to mitigating it. Exercise is good for her. I’d like to increase her appointments to four days a week. I’m happy to visit your apartment on occasion if it increases her comfortability, too.”

“Four days a week?” he said incredulously. “How many things are you gonna be testing her for?”

She sniffed. “It won’t all be testing. I’m as keen on respecting Pin’s limits as you are. But I do believe a specialized therapy regimen—perfected by me, of course—would benefit her. Unfortunately, it’s something we will have to practice with frequency.”

“Frequency, huh.” Coiny twirled the phone cord around his finger. “You don’t think there’s anything I can do? I mean, I already help her with her, uh, normal physical therapy.”

“Maybe one day. But for the first few weeks, I believe it’s best conducted by me. Also—” Golf Ball’s voice got less bossy, softer around the edges. “Pin is a good patient. I enjoy her company.”

“Ohh,” he said, grinning. “I see. Y’know, you don’t have to use her limb regrowth as an excuse to hang out with her. She likes you.”

“What? This isn’t about—she’s tolerable. I appreciate having such a cooperative patient—”

“She said she wanted to hang out with you today.” Coiny put his mouth close to the microphone. “Don’t leave her hanging.”

From the other end of the line, he heard flustered stuttering. Golf Ball tried to respond coherently four times before settling on, “If—if she insists.”

“You should be honored,” he said. His nails dug at the cord. “You know how easily she gets tired these days. She likes you enough that she’s willing to get over it.”

“I am honored,” GB said honestly. “It’s not often that I meet someone who respects my scientific prowess properly.”

“Oh, she respects it, alright. Feels like most of our conversations these days are about you.”

“W-well—”

“You can’t have Pin all to yourself,” Coiny teased. “I mean, maybe you gave her her limbs back, but wasn’t I the one who won her the mech suit? And—”

“Coiny—”

“Sorry. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Are you sure you won’t let me help with the testing? Even if you have to supervise me, I don’t care.” As long as I’m doing something for her, he thought.

Golf Ball cleared her throat. “I’m not conducting the exercises myself out of selfishness. Or spitefulness. You have been invaluable in Pin’s recovery. But Pin’s body should not be handled recklessly. And I, as a scientific professional, possess more knowledge of proper conduct than you.”

“Wow,” Coiny said. “That—actually might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Thank Pin. It’s only because of her affection toward you that I’m willing to begrudge you this much control.”

“S-seriously?” Heat flared in his cheeks again, more intense this time, and he bit his tongue to suppress a stupid giggle. “She talks about me?”

“At her appointments? Excessively.”

“Mint,” Coiny said. “I mean—really? I—I just didn’t think…” It was the kind of thing he thought only existed in his dreams. His very passionate, very indulgent, very Pin-filled dreams. “I’ll tell her I’m flattered.”

“I’m not certain that she wants you to know,” Golf Ball said. “It might fluster her.”

Coiny couldn’t help but smile at that, because it was like being given a free cake and apologizing for sneaking in an extra $100. Instead, though, he said, “If she talks about me so much, why don’t you let me help? So she can—see me more.”

“Coiny, you live with her. She sees you often.”

“Yeah but that’s not the same as—”

“—assisting her during her appointments. I understand.” A pause. “Fine. Are you familiar with how to administer corticosteroid injections?”

“Am I what?”

“Exactly. There are some treatments you simply aren’t trained to deliver. I appreciate your contributions to Pin’s recovery. But what she needs right now is a professional hand.”

“Hand,” Coiny snorted, his gaze sliding back to Pin. Now she was sitting up on the couch, eyes open, trying not to listen in on Coiny and failing.

Part of him wanted to argue with Golf Ball more, as if ribbing her enough would eventually convince her to give in, but he knew it wouldn’t. He was talking to GB, not Pin, he reminded himself. He wished he were only talking to Pin. Coiny rubbed a hand over his face. Years spent tirelessly trying to make things easier when she was limbless—carrying her around, the mech suit, its attachments, digging to the center of the Earth for her, for mint’s sake—just for Golf Ball to sweep in and fix everything with her fancy science tools. It wasn’t fair that GB got to do all that for her, even if the fairness didn’t matter. Pin had finally gotten her limbs back. What reason was there for him not to be happy?

“Is that Golf Ball?” Pin asked, so close now that Coiny jumped and nearly dropped the receiver. She was leaning on the counter, tilted curiously toward him.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Say hi, GB. It’s Pin.”

He moved the phone close enough for Pin to hear a, “Hello, Pin,” in response.

“Hi,” Pin smiled.

“You’re stealthy,” Coiny said.

“That’s good,” said Golf Ball over the receiver. “Your mobility still seems mostly up to par.”

“Yeah,” Pin said, looking at Coiny, a smile still resting on her face. “I’m not totally helpless.”

“You never have been.” He noticed her fingers had tightened on the counter, easing the weight off her legs. “You okay?”

“Just—achey.”

“Maybe you should sit back down,” he said, urging her that way.

“But, GB—I wanted to talk about my treatment—”

“I went over it with her. She just said she wanted to keep a closer eye on you. Something about vase—vasal—”

“Vasoconstriction,” came Golf Ball’s voice. Even through the speaker, it was loud. “And yes, I discussed it with Coiny, but I’m happy to visit you this afternoon.”

“Really?” Pin’s face brightened in a way that was kind of enviable. She snatched the phone from him. “Thanks, GB! I’ll see you later!”

“Of cours—” Her response was cut short when Coiny nabbed the phone back, shoving at Pin’s arm as she grabbed for it, a sharp laugh punched out of her chest.

“Coiny! Ack! Let me say bye—”

He wrangled it out of her arms again, bringing the mic right against his mouth to bark, “Pin says bye,” before dropping the receiver on the counter and pushing Pin back in the direction of the couch. “C’mon, c’mon, you need to rest before she gets here.”

“I’ve rested enough,” Pin protested. “I slept for ten hours last night.”

“Ten—dang,” he said. “Still! You need as much rest as you can get. We’ll play a board game or something.”

She whined at that, probably utterly bored of the few games they had to choose from by now, but she stopped resisting. Coiny watched her trudge back to the couch before picking up the phone again.

“You pushed her,” he heard from the speaker, and his brows raised. He tugged the phone closer.

“GB?”

“You shouldn’t be so rough with Pin,” Golf Ball’s voice said.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hang up,” Coiny said conversationally.

“I considered it. I’ll be there an hour past noon with my supplies. And,” she said again, “brute strength solves nothing. Don’t be so reckless with her.”

“Pin can handle it,” he said, because the last thing he ever wanted to do again was go too far with her. BFDIA wasn’t totally for nothing. He swallowed, then stage-whispered into the receiver, “She misses you.”

“Wha—”

“Bye,” Coiny said, and slammed the phone onto the switch hook. The cord swung as it slackened. Sweat dampened the crooks of his arms.

“What can I handle?” Pin asked from across the room.

He whipped around. “What?”

“You said I could handle it,” she said. “What is it?”

“Ah,” Coiny said, shrugging. “Nothing.”

Golf Ball did start seeing Pin more often after her breathless spell, which was a pill Coiny was already prepared to swallow, but what he wasn’t prepared for was just how much time she spent in their apartment. Now that she had permission to be there, she visited every chance she could, and Pin was always begging her to stay for lunch, dinner, just a little longer.

She wasn’t a bother. GB was nice—or, nice to Pin, and tolerant of Coiny—and most days, she and Pin were just talking. But that alone annoyed him. The time Pin once spent with him was now occupied by Golf Ball. Coiny wanted to do what was best for her recovery, obviously, but, he started thinking after a few days of their arrangement, was it so wrong to want a little more involvement?

After all, he’d taken care of Pin just fine—mostly—when she was limbless, then faceless, then shrunken down. Maybe he wasn’t right all the time, but what he lacked in knowledge he made up for in understanding. BFDIA had just ended, and if anything Coiny only wanted to spend more time with her. When she was alone with Golf Ball, a nagging voice would gnaw at his brain, telling him GB didn’t deserve it. That she didn’t understand her, didn’t deserve to be the object of her attention.

But Pin seemed to love her, and the last thing Coiny wanted was for her to be alone. So he tried to take it in stride.

Coiny rarely sat in on the entirety of Pin’s appointments (usually Golf Ball was thrusting him out, telling him his presence was unnecessary), but occasionally he did. Today was one of those days. Golf Ball brought her supplies to their apartment this time, and was already engrossed in conversation with Pin, who beamed like she wasn’t a test subject.

Coiny eyed the blood pressure cuff on her arm. He was sitting in the armchair adjacent to Pin, and even from a few feet away, could see the heat that rose to her face when she laughed at a comment GB made. The pigment extraction, despite its complications, had a few perks. The best of them was that it made seeing Pin’s blush a whole lot easier.

“Good,” Golf Ball said, sliding the cuff off her arm. “Your blood pressure is within the average range.”

“Oh, good,” Pin agreed. “Is it lower than last time?”

GB nodded. “It’s still on the higher end of the spectrum, but it has been steadily improving since we increased your appointments. As long as we continue with them, I anticipate it will continue improving.”

“Thank mint,” said Coiny.

“No, thank Golf Ball,” Pin said. “She’s the one that came up with the exercises.”

“Th—ahem,” Golf Ball said, flustered. “That is correct.”

“Aww.” Coiny gave her a thousand-watt smile. “Thanks, GB.”

“Right.” She fumbled for the rubber hammer on the coffee table. “It’s protocol.”

“Is it also protocol to do in-house doctor’s visits?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Well—I suppose so. I make these visits chiefly to decrease the strain on Pin’s limbs.”

“I appreciate it,” Pin said. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Golf Ball looked up. “You didn’t?”

“No. It was hard to get comfortable.”

“Hmm,” she said. She tapped Pin’s knees with the hammer and they jumped in response. “I brought my ABG supplies. It would be best if I—”

Pin sucked in a breath at her words.

“I’m aware they’re unpleasant,” she said sympathetically. “But they are vital to your recovery.”

“I know,” Pin said. Her eyes cut down to the coffee table, where a medical kit and small, phone-looking device were resting. “Even though I had one a few days ago.”

“They are the most accurate and efficient measurement system for your blood oxygen levels.”

“Right,” Pin said. “I can do it.”

“What’s—” Coiny started, feeling strangely like he was intruding. “What’s an ABG?”

“Arterial blood gas,” Golf Ball said shortly.

“She has to draw my blood,” Pin explained.

“Oh. That—that’s pretty easy, right?”

“No,” GB said. “As the name suggests, the blood is drawn from an artery. The process is extremely painful.”

“W-what? And there’s no other way to do it without hurting her?”

“There is not.”

Coiny bit at his lower lip. Golf Ball pulled back from Pin’s knees and began digging through the medical kit on the table, readying her supplies. It felt like a string had drawn taut in his chest. He didn’t want to leave—Pin said she’d had it done before, right, and it’d been fine—but the thought of seeing GB make her wince or cry or—

“You can step out if it makes you more comfortable,” Golf Ball said.

“No,” Coiny said immediately. “I wanna be here. Here.” He got up and sat next to Pin on the couch, scooting close. His hand slid down her arm and pried her tight fingers apart. He laced their fingers together smoothly. “If it hurts, you can squeeze as tight as you need.”

“Not too tight,” Golf Ball corrected. “Don’t strain your muscles.”

He bit back a retort. “Right. I’m here, is what I mean.”

Pin’s shoulder brushed his and he looked at her. Coiny wanted to stare at her face for hours, wanted to admire the soft sloping lines of her eyebrows and mouth, and her pretty, always curious eyes. But then her eyes turned toward him, and he was the recipient of her small, stunned smile, and the weight of his feelings pressed down on him like an anvil.

“Thanks,” Pin said. Coiny’s stomach swooped. The sensation was so unbearably good that he had to break eye contact, though the awareness of their joined hands still radiated through his body. The word pulsed in his head. Thanks—thanks for being here, thanks for helping me, thanks for everything.

“Your hand’s really soft,” he said weirdly. The flesh was uncalloused, baby-soft, a little uncanny.

“Yes, which contributes to the sensitivity of her extremities,” Golf Ball butt in. “Her epidermis is thinner than yours or mine. It needs time to develop.”

“Okay,” Coiny said, trying to extrapolate. “Does that make these blood draws, uh, risky?”

“With proper conduct, no. Of course, right now her skin is more vulnerable to irritants, and her clotting factor is lower, but we haven’t encountered any issues yet.”

“So as long as someone does it right, it’s not a problem.”

“Essentially.”

“Huh.” He watched as Golf Ball beckoned for Pin to lay her free hand on the table over a white underpad. She sprawled her fingers out palm-up.

“You don’t have to look,” Pin said, voice tight now. “I don’t.”

Coiny leaned in. “What, you don’t want me to see your blood?”

“Do you want to see my blood?”

“I don’t care. I’ve seen it before. In tubes. It’s not, like—weird.”

As Golf Ball readied the needle and set it close to her wrist, Coiny was kind of beginning to wish he was the one holding it, instead.

“This is just the lidocaine,” GB said. “You should only feel a prick.”

“Lidocaine?” he asked.

“It numbs my wrist,” Pin said. “So that the”—an inhale—“the real thing doesn’t hurt as much.”

“Done,” Golf Ball said, disposing of the syringe in a small, red-lidded container. Coiny’s eyes widened. How she’d done it so well with no arms, he didn’t know—GB was on the couch too, close to the edge, Pin’s wrist turned in the direction of her body.

“Now the hard part,” Pin said breathily. Golf Ball was wiping her wrist with an alcohol pad, the scent catching in Coiny’s mouth. Her hand shivered in his. He squeezed it reassuringly.

“Does talking make it easier?” he asked, glancing down once to see the needle hovering midair.

“I don’t know. Normally I just let GB focus. She’s good at it, but—”

“Pain is inevitable,” Golf Ball muttered.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ve got this,” Coiny told her, and neither of them saw the puncture but it was easy to tell when it happened, because suddenly Pin’s eyes squeezed shut and she made a small cry of pain, biting into her lip to suppress another. Coiny’s heart twisted. Golf Ball offered no words of reassurance, no sympathetic glances. It settled like poison in his stomach. Didn’t she realize how privileged she was to have Pin let her stick a needle in her body, to have Pin let her touch her like this at all? In her freshly-regrown limbs, no less.

Pin made another whine, ducking toward Coiny, and he squeezed her hand tighter.

“You should think about that time in BFDIA when we rebuilt the farm together,” he blurted.

“Right before I destroyed it?” she grunted.

“Uh—well. Nobody else deserved to win it anyway.”

“But you didn’t know you would be eliminated,” Pin said. “What if you won it—”

“Pin,” Coiny laughed, trying not to jostle her, “I really don’t care about the farm. I mean, I do—I did, and maybe I would’ve been a little sad but—”

“I’m done,” Golf Ball, binding Pin’s wrist tight with a bandage and ripping off the end. “Good job.”

Pin took a deep inhale and looked up. “Oh. I think talking does help. Coiny, you should be here more often.”

“S-sure.”

“What were you going to say?”

“Huh?”

“Before GB finished, you were saying something about the farm.”

“Oh. I—I was gonna say—” That the prize barely mattered, that you were the real prize. “It was more fun getting to hang out with you. And the rest of W.O.A.H. Bunch. So I wouldn’t have been too mad.”

Pin’s mouth pulled up. “Yay. It was fun getting to rebuild the farm.”

“For sure.” Coiny returned a twin smile. Between their bodies, his palm had gotten hot and clammy, the pressure of her fingers impossibly noticeable. He wanted to keep them joined for a few seconds longer—or minutes, or hours—but Pin’s hand retreated from his grasp and reached for her punctured arm.

“I’ll be able to test it here,” Golf Ball said, holding up a syringe with a little bit of Pin’s blood in it. “That way I can deliver you the results immediately.”

“Hold up,” Coiny said, pointing to the syringe. “That’s how much you took?”

“Yes,” she said. “This is all the blood an ABG demands.”

“And it hurt her that much? You couldn’t have, I dunno, pricked her finger?”

“This is the most efficient and accurate method.”

“But not the least painful—”

“You saw how well GB did it,” Pin said. “I mean—it hurts, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to get used to it,” Coiny said sadly. “It sucks that you have to go through all this just to have new limbs. Are you sure GB’s technique doesn’t just suck—”

“Coiny,” Golf Ball interjected. “Bring me a bottle of hand sanitizer from the bathroom.”

“Uh—me?”

“Unless someone else is named Coiny.”

“Gah.” Coiny looked between them, from Pin to Golf Ball then back again. GB seemed entirely engrossed in Pin’s specimen. Pin herself was looking at him nervously, expectantly. “Fine. Be right back.”

The hand sanitizer, as it happened, was wedged behind a number of Pin’s empty medicine bottles in her bathroom, and Coiny’s head spun a little with frustration by the time he yanked it out. He whisked his way back out of the bathroom and through Pin’s room when he heard voices and halted.

“He doesn’t respect my strides in your recovery.” Golf Ball.

“He cares about me.” Pin. “He wants me to be OK.”

“But he doesn’t appreciate my involvement. Even though I am scientifically proven to be the most capable candidate for aiding your recovery.”

“Coiny doesn’t care about that. I mean, the science. The… protocol.”

“If he wants you to improve with zero complications, why doesn’t he—”

Coiny had to strain to hear Pin’s next words. “He just wants me to be OK. That’s not rocket science. It isn’t any science. That’s just, um. Friendship.”

“Friendship does not precede fact.”

“It does for Coiny.” She got quieter. “Sometimes it does for me, too.”

“Even though it isn’t logical.”

“Well,” Pin said. “Maybe friendship doesn’t precede fact. But love definitely precedes logic.”

Coiny took Pin’s request for him to be there more often to heart, and from then on, began to stay through the entirety of her appointments, watching with rapt attention how Golf Ball performed every test.

Pin handled easier things well; x-rays, fingerpricks, physical therapy; they rarely bothered her, so they didn’t bother Coiny either. But when she had to get an injection or blood draw or the forsaken ABG thing she’d had before, her winces and pained expressions would follow him throughout the day. He couldn’t let go of the reminder of what Golf Ball was doing to her—and worse, that Pin praised her for it.

The temperature dropped again and the frequency of Pin’s appointments increased. At night Coiny would lay in the stifling heat of his bedroom and fall asleep to the jealous knowledge that before Pin even saw him the next morning, she would be getting ready to see GB. It never got easier.

He’d seen all the tests and exercises she performed by now; he was pretty sure, after a few private practices in his bedroom, that he’d copied them all down mostly accurately. He could administer them okay, and once GB saw how competent he was, maybe he’d have a little more weight in her treatment. If friendship didn’t precede fact, Coiny thought, then he’d make the facts undeniable.

A few days later Coiny got lucky and found out that Golf Ball planned to do an ABG at the next appointment. It was the first she’d done since the one he saw. Coiny felt like his memory was good—maybe not great, for only seeing it once, but good enough, and he could always change his mind if it got to be too much.

When he was there, it was easier for Pin. He had a lot of things Golf Ball didn’t; arms; opposable thumbs; the status as Pin’s best friend. So what if GB was a little smarter? What Pin needed was someone who really understood her, Coiny thought as he left GB’s lab late the night before, hauling back a plastic box stuffed with medical supplies.

Coiny got up right on time the next morning. He readied the supplies, and when he heard the shuffling of movement outside his bedroom door a little later, opened it to greet Pin.

“Morning,” he said, kicking the door closed with his foot. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not great,” Pin said. “I wanted to sleep in, but—well—Golf Ball.”

“Actually,” Coiny said, “you can sleep in after this if you want. ‘Cause GB isn’t gonna be doing your appointment today.”

She faltered. “What?”

Coiny broke into a grin. He jiggled the box of medical supplies, which Pin looked down at bizarrely. “I’m gonna do it.”

Her eyes got wide. “Coiny? What? You?”

“Jeez,” he said. “Don’t act so excited.”

“I didn’t mean—GB didn’t tell me. I didn’t even think she would let you.”

“Yeah, well, we talked it out,” Coiny said, the best excuse he could come up with at the moment. “And most of it’s easy stuff, anyway. Like blood pressure. Reflexes. I can do all that.”

“Is GB going to be here?” Pin asked.

“No.” I hope not.

“She’s letting you do this without supervision?”

“Uh.” He began walking her back toward the couch. She went without resistance. He dropped the box on the table. “Yeah. How else do you think I got all this stuff?”

“Coiny,” Pin said warily.

“I’m serious! Trust me!”

“I do. Just—you’ve never done this before. There’s a difference between helping me get around and… testing me.”

“I know. I can do it.”

Coiny reached out and took one of her hands, his grip firm. Pin’s fingers twitched cagily before she sighed. “OK.” Her shoulders dropped. “Fine. You promise you won’t hurt me?”

“I promise. It won’t hurt a bit.”

He sat her back on the couch and smoothed a hand over her bicep. “At all?”

“Nope.” When she looked at him disbelievingly, he added: “What? M-maybe it’ll hurt a little, but not as much as it does when GB does it. C’mon. I know you. I—I know what you can handle.”

“Right. Why do you want to do this, anyway?"

Coiny pulled out Golf Ball’s blood pressure monitor and fiddled with the buttons. “‘Cause I feel like I should. GB already did so much with the pigment extraction stuff. She sees you all the time. I—I wanna pay her back a little.”

“Wow,” Pin said, sticking out her arm so he could velcro the cuff to it. “I didn’t realize you cared about her so much.”

“Well—I’m just being reasonable. Mostly I wanna get to help you. I spent so much time trying to get you back to normal in BFDIA—it’s only fair, right?”

“I guess.” Coiny stared at the buttons on the monitor. Pin, sparing him, reached over and clicked one, and the cuff began inflating. “Even though none of it really worked,” she continued slowly. “They were temporary solutions.”

“A temporary solution’s still a solution,” he said.

A measured breath. “Right.”

“Pin,” Coiny said. “Is something wrong—”

The cuff deflated and the monitor beeped. He perked up, spell broken, and reached for it. There were a variety of numbers winking on the screen.

“How is it?” Pin asked.

“Um,” Coiny said. “H-how am I supposed to read this?”

She sighed. “Gimme.” The monitor vanished from his hands, and Pin’s brows raised in concern as she read it.

“What’s it say—”

“It’s high,” she said. “Higher than it’s been all week.”

“Seriously?” Coiny lifted it back out of her hands and tried to read the screen again, despite, of course, having no clue how to confirm her words. “Is it because you didn’t sleep well?”

“Probably. We should tell Golf Ball. She might not want you to do the—”

“No,” he said. “It’s fine. W-we’ll see how you handle the rest of the tests. Then we’ll decide.”

They worked through the rest of the examination with surprising speed—well, not surprising to Coiny, since he thought he had a pretty good handle on it to begin with—but more than once Pin had to correct him. Each time she did, she grew more apprehensive, urging him to call GB, to confirm this was all okay. Not once did she make a real effort to resist. But when they got to the final part of the exam, she was practically twitching with fear.

“You already do a lot for me,” Pin was saying, eyes laser-focused on the liquid Coiny was sucking into a syringe. “You help me get around. You buy me stuff. You live with me. Are you sure you shouldn’t leave this to Golf Ball?”

“I like helping you,” Coiny said. “I can do this. What, you don’t like having me around?”

“You know I do,” she said. “But you don’t need to do everything for me—”

“But I want to. I mean, I wanna do as much as possible.”

“Do as much as you can,” Pin said. “Not as much as you want.”

“I can do this,” Coiny said again, more for himself than her. He took hold of her exposed wrist, running his fingers over her palm, tickling the soft skin. All object flesh was rubbery and easy to break, especially Pin’s. She moved her fingers and the tendons flexed below it. Not particularly remarkable, or attractive, but something he hadn’t gotten to see her do for years. “GB can do it too, but she—she just doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?”

“How important it is. This, I mean.” He gestured to her arms.

“She’s the one that regrew them for me.”

“I know,” Coiny said, swallowing, “but she doesn’t understand. We—we worked so well together in BFDIA, helping each other, and I miss that. Why does GB get to do all the cool stuff for you? She didn’t care when you were shrunk down. I was the one that took care of you. I—I dug to the center of the Earth—”

“Coiny,” Pin said, pulling back her wrist a fraction. “You shouldn’t do this.”

He grabbed it. “Why not?”

She tried to free herself from his grip, but he didn’t budge, even as his stomach turned at the thought of trapping her. “We can still work together. We do work together. We need to talk about this. You can’t fix it by—just by doing everything—”

“I’m not just trying to fix it. Golf Ball doesn’t deserve—she doesn’t deserve to touch you like this—”

“What? It’s not weird, Coiny, she’s doing her job—”

“That’s the problem,” Coiny said. “It isn’t personal to her. Bu—but it is to me. You let her do all this stuff to you when she barely even knows you.”

“Stop,” Pin said. He’d wiped her wrist with an alcohol pad already, the stench strong and a little mind-numbing, one hand holding her arm tight and another wielding the lidocaine. Pin looked anxiously between his face and the needle. “If you’re gonna do it, at least let me calm down a little.”

“I’ve got this,” said Coiny. “Deep breaths. Once you see how well I can do it, you’ll never want GB to do it again.”

“Right,” Pin said, not even pretending to sound like she agreed. She tried to relax her wrist anyway. “Fine. J-just get it over with. This is the easy part, anyway.”

Coiny nodded stiltedly, bringing the syringe close to her body. Beneath his touch he felt how malleable her skin was. It was funny how much he did for her already, and how much he still wasn’t satisfied with it, and he realized then that he didn’t really know what he was doing at all. The needle quivered in his grasp. Was he supposed to inject it in a certain place? How did he know when he’d reached that place? The only way out was through, though, and he brought it down to hover just above her tender flesh when—

Three knocks resounded on the apartment door, harsh and urgent. Coiny’s hand jolted and Pin gasped as the needle grazed her wrist—both of them barely registering it, too focused on the sight of the handle’s slow turn—and Golf Ball stepped through the door, taking stock of the entire scene before either of them had the mind to pull away. She inhaled sharply.

“You have five seconds to explain what you’re doing before I never let you near Pin ever again.”

“Gah,” Coiny choked, throwing his hands up, the needle still exposed. “I—I was helping her, and—hey, you can’t ban me from being near Pin, I live with her—”

Pin recoiled. “Wait, you said Golf Ball gave you permission to do this.”

“He said I gave him permission?” GB said incredulously.

Coiny laughed nervously. “M-maybe I extrapolated a little, who cares—”

“I care—” Pin started.

“So do I,” Golf Ball said, already advancing on him, snatching the syringe from his hand. She clicked on the safety immediately. “What on earth was your thought process? Is this lidocaine? You could have killed her, Coiny—”

“Wait, wait! What? I wasn’t gonna kill her—I’ve seen you do it before, so—”

“Seeing isn’t the same as doing,” she said. “I’m the professional, you are not. And, for the record, if you had angled the needle poorly and injected it into her bloodstream, you would have killed her, and all the progress we made would be gone.”

“I—I was gonna be careful,” Coiny said, but the words were lame even to his own ears. Of course he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about it.

“What, you were going to perform the entire draw, too? You thought you were competent enough not to hit a nerve? Not to lacerate her artery? Not to—”

“Fine, fine!” His eyes cut away, face hot with shame. “I didn’t know. I just thought—if I showed you I could do it, you might let me help—”

“You could have asked me to teach you.”

“And you would’ve said yes?”

“No. But maybe I would have taken sympathy on you and let you perform the easier tasks in her appointments.”

“That’s not the same,” Coiny said, greedy. “You still get to do all the intense stuff. And you treat her so clinically, like she’s just a test subject and not—”

“Pin doesn’t need to be coddled,” Golf Ball said, gesturing to her. She was pressed against the couch cushions, eyes flitting between them dazedly. “Are the two of us not amiable? I value Pin’s comfort as much as you—”

“You don’t,” he said. “You don’t—value Pin. As much as me.”

“Fine. But at least I value Pin’s safety. I’m not certain the same goes for you.”

“I…” Coiny’s words died on his tongue. There was nothing he could say. The medical supplies he’d stolen were sprawled in disorganization across the coffee table. Probably that was why Golf Ball thought to check on them. If she’d only just called, he thought.

“He didn’t wound you, did he?” Golf Ball asked Pin.

“No,” she said. “Uh, he nicked me a little when you knocked, but he didn’t break the skin.”

“Good. We should keep a close eye on the injury anyway.” She gave Coiny a sidelong look. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

His teeth chattered. “Yeah. Right. I should go. So you can take care of her properly.”

“That would be appreciated,” GB said, eyes narrowed. Coiny was already walking backwards toward the door. Pin stuck a hand out in protest.

“Coiny, wait—”

“I’ll see you later,” he said, passing swiftly through the door. Coiny’s heart beat heavily in his chest. The sheer weight of it pulled him toward the ground, lower and lower still.

It was night before Coiny returned to the apartment. When he knocked on the door—ridiculous, really, because he lived there—it was Golf Ball who opened it. He expected her to slam it shut at the sight of him, but she didn’t, although a displeased look crossed her face.

“Coiny,” she said.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in? I—I brought something.”

“What is it?” she asked skeptically.

“It’s for Pin.” She opened the door a little wider. He held up a red box. “Chocolates.”

“Hm,” GB hummed. “Fine. Come in.”

Pin was still on the couch, though sitting lengthways now, and she sat up upon seeing Coiny. Her face lit up with hope as she did, so blinding he could barely look at it. He waved.

“Sorry I was gone for so long,” he said. “Um, GB, I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“I was keeping an eye on her. But I was just about to leave. Pin’s doing fine. Our appointments will resume as normal.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Yes.” Golf Ball hoisted the box of medical supplies, neat and organized now, onto her head, passing Coiny as she made for the exit. “I encourage you to talk to her. I don’t understand your relationship in the slightest, but—Pin must really care for you, since she trusted you to do something so stupid.”

“Right.” Coiny swallowed, throat rubbery. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Golf Ball slipped out and left him and Pin alone, which never, in their entire few years of friendship, had felt as awkward as it did now. Pin was still on the couch, wringing her fingers in anticipation. Coiny pulled the box of chocolates close to his chest.

“Hi,” he said dumbly.

“Hi,” she said. “How did you get those?”

“I stole them,” said Coiny. Pin’s brows furrowed. He wasn’t proud of it; even in an abandoned city, it felt tasteless sometimes, just nabbing things off the shelves when they weren’t necessities; but it was for Pin, which was as much of a necessity as anything else. “They’re for you.”

“Is this your peace offering?”

“If—if you’ll take it.” He crept closer, sliding the box into her hands. She took it appreciatively. There was a little bandaid on her arm where he'd grazed her. “Can we go to your room?”

“Why?”

“To talk. I wanna apologize.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Coiny took hold of her arm on instinct. Her muscles jumped under his touch, but she let him help her up anyway. Her hand lay feather-light on his arm as they walked. Pin must really care for you, since she trusted you to do something so stupid, jingled in his head.

They entered Pin’s room together, and she closed the door behind them. Her bed was made, but a little sloppily. Coiny couldn’t fault her for it. He didn’t even try to make his own.

“You can sit,” she said, easing back on the bed. She laid the chocolates in her lap and looked over at him.

Coiny spread out on the mattress beside her. “Pin,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I did all of it. But I’m really sorry for lying. And for… being so reckless.”

“I was upset,” she said. “I am upset. That you lied.”

“And that I was gonna inject you with lidocaine and probably kill you?”

“Um. I’m looking past that.”

“Seriously?”

“Coiny,” Pin said. “I trust you. It was a stupid move. I don’t want you to do it again. But—but I wasn’t worried you were going to kill me.”

“I didn’t even know where to inject the stuff. I could’ve easily—”

“Golf Ball said the same thing,” she said. “She said you would’ve been careless and gotten ahead of yourself.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“I don’t think so. You were careful. You’ve always been careful about me.”

A chuckle, his heart betraying him and lifting at the words. “So you think it would’ve been fine?”

“No. I mean, maybe. Please don’t ever find out,” Pin said seriously. “What I’m saying is I don’t care about that. Why did you lie? Why did you do it at all?”

“I—” Coiny said. He paused. “I know I do a lot for you. Especially ‘cause I… live with you. I—I should be grateful for what I already get.”

Pin watched him, listening.

“And I am,” he continued. “B-but when I see how much Golf Ball does for you—I should be doing all of it instead. A-at least, I think I should. When you talk about how smart she is, how she can solve everything, I get so—”

“—jealous?” she finished.

He deflated. “Yeah. Basically.”

“Wow,” Pin said, and Coiny felt himself blush. She popped open the box of chocolates thoughtfully. “I get it.”

“You get it?”

“I do. I mean, I think.” She looked up. “Coiny, I’m happy we get to live together. If you lived with someone else—I would hate it. And if someone else was helping me through all this… I wouldn’t enjoy it half as much.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, really.” Pin plucked a truffle from the box and held it out to him. Coiny took it surprisedly. “Who else would I make cookies with? Who else would steal a box of chocolates for me? Who else would—get jealous about seeing Golf Ball take my blood—”

“Alright,” Coiny coughed. “I-it wasn’t about the blood, okay, just the fact that it wasn’t—”

“It was hard seeing her hurt me,” she said.

“Yeah. Especially when—when she doesn’t know you like I do.”

Pin popped a chocolate in her mouth and chewed. “These are good.”

“I’m glad, ‘cause the price tag was kind of steep.” Coiny rotated the truffle in his hand. “But everything tastes better when it’s free, right?” He ate his too, the rich chocolate center melting on his tongue, and groaned approvingly.

“Good?” Pin snorted.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I trust you,” she said. “I wanna keep trusting you. So—I’m most upset that you lied.”

“Okay,” Coiny said honestly. “I can deal with that. I’m really sorry. No more of—whatever that was. I promise.”

“OK. You know, GB and I are good friends.”

“Yeah, I see. Mint, I’m so dead. I’m never gonna be allowed to come to your appointments ever again.”

“Actually,” Pin said, “I talked to her. She said she was willing to let you come with me—”

“Really—”

“—but if you do, you’ll have to do chores for her. Like… you have to clean up all her trash.”

“What!? I’m getting punished?”

“She takes my health very seriously,” Pin said primly, though she looked a little apologetic. “She was also really mad that you stole her supplies.”

“Well. Agh. I—I guess it’s a good thing that she takes you so seriously.”

She smiled. “It is. I’m in good hands. I mean—”

“Good feet.”

“Whatever.”

Pin licked her lips, trying to clean herself of any escaped chocolate. Coiny’s eyes flickered down to her mouth. She smiled quizzically when he did, and a little crinkle formed between her brows. She really was so beautiful, he thought, no matter what emotion was on her face. Or color. He’d gotten kind of attached to the white.

“Coiny,” Pin said, breaking the silence. She scooted back on a pillow and patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”

He situated himself beside her. She took another chocolate into her mouth. In this position, their shoulders kept nudging one another, like sticks that would spark with a poorly-timed rub. Coiny wanted to hug her, but he couldn’t, because he was pretty sure he would end up kissing her. He couldn’t help himself. Pin always forced him to act against reason.

His eyes cut down to her arm and he nudged it, asking, “Was it you who put the bandaid on, or Golf Ball?”

“Golf Ball,” Pin said.

“The cut was that bad?”

“Not really.” She made a closed-mouth smile, mouth full of chocolate. “She just wanted it extra protected.”

“Right. Makes sense. I hope it doesn’t kill you.”

She elbowed him. “Not funny.”

“I-it wasn’t a joke! I really hope it doesn’t!”

“If what kills me is a tiny scratch from a needle, maybe I wasn’t meant to survive,” Pin said wearily.

“Don't say that. You get a pass, ‘cause your limbs are still developing and all.”

“Right,” she said.

“Yes, right.”

“I’m tired,” she said.

“You should sleep.”

“Right here?”

“If you want.” Coiny leaned closer to her, letting his own body relax into the pillows. “I might.”

“Coiny, you have your own bed.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “but this one’s really comfy.”

“Fine,” she said. “But—at least let me put the chocolates away.”

“Ah, put ‘em on the nightstand,” Coiny said. “They’ll live.”

He cracked his eyes open just in time to see Pin roll hers, and he considered saying something in retort, but it was, he decided, too cute to be mad about. Pin took his advice. She was only away from his side long enough to put the lid on and shuffle the box onto the nightstand. Then she leaned back against him, sighing, stretching her legs out.

“I can’t believe you think I’m careful,” Coiny said. “Did you say that to GB, too?”

Pin sniffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Is it wrong?”

“I just didn’t think—I mean, I feel like I’ve always been pretty careless.”

“Not with me.”

“Even though I—”

“Even though you tried to stab me,” she said dully. “You wanted to do it because you cared about me.”

“I did,” Coiny said. “I do.”

“Exactly. So, you’re not careless. You’re just lazy.”

“Pin! Lazy?”

“What? You are!”

“I don’t wanna be lazy,” Coiny moaned.

“No, it’s OK,” Pin said. She turned into him, laying her hand over his. “Golf Ball said lazy is exactly what I need.”

Coiny’s sleep that night was deep and dreamless. He woke up the next day at noon, Pin’s face against his cheek and his hand around her arm. Sometime in his sleep, it’d snuck down to her wrist. His fingers spent the night there, brushing right along the bandaid.