Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After living at Hotel OJ for a while, Paintbrush realised just how much catching up there was to do.

It had been months, probably one or two years since they had last seen their friends who didn't make it into season two. So the first couple of days had gone solely to hanging out with and chatting about life and competitions and whatnot with their fellow old ex-contestants.

The striped orange walls were often drowning Paintbrush in a sense of nostalgia. They hadn't realised how much they'd missed living here, being able to just relax and do whatever they wanted. It seems like Paintbrush had a bit of a habit of getting too worked up sometimes. 
Whether it was a challenge, or a painting that didn't turn out the way they wanted, if they had something to finish they would pour their whole being into doing said task and doing it with ambition and a winning spirit.

So of course it would feel weird to finally be able to calm down, because Paintbrush rarely did. 

They'd taken it upon them to go around and have a quick chat with everyone in the hotel, for no real reason. They'd been bored and restless and the thought had popped into their head one late night when they couldn't sleep because Fan was watching his favourite show with the volume a little too loud.

It felt weird seeing their old teammates, ones they'd barely paid attention to, walking around the hotel without saying anything. Paintbrush felt... regret. Though they weren't sure why. They hadn't done anything wrong, but Paintbrush still felt obliged to talk to them. Have a quick chat. Just to be on good terms. They didn't want to end up like the Grand Slams.

It was easy talking to the old cast. Salt and Pepper were the same as always, attached to the hip and spending most of their free time around the hot tub area of the hotel. But they seemed more... reasonable now. Mature. Not like the whiny and chatty girls Paintbrush had once seen them. Salt was still upbeat and just as talkative as before, but could definitely read the room better. Pepper seemed calmer, bolder. Paintbrush enjoyed seeing them again, even if it didn't take long for Salt to start rambling about OJ.

OJ himself was less calm. Since the hotel had gotten more and more people, he had been too busy to hang out. But him and Paper did occasionally check in on Paintbrush and talk for a while. The two of them were a lot like before, OJ was still the same nice guy he'd always been and Paper was just as kind as Paintbrush remembered him. Well, remembered him from before the whole 'Idiotic Island' situation. It was nice. Felt like old times, Paintbrush thought. 

Bomb and Painty bumped into each other a couple times, but they never really came further than hasty greetings and an awkward "how are you" before continuing about their days. Truth is, they rarely ever got as far as that. Bomb wasn't the most talkative and his endless stuttering agitated Paintbrush.
Pickle offered Paintbrush to play video games with him, but Paintbrush politely declined. They weren't one for video games, but the offer was nice.

Then came their fellow Bright Lights.

Tissues didn't do much, Paintbrush had noticed. He moved from his and Trophy's room, to the couch, to the kitchen and back in his room again. The two of them hadn't spoken much, but a few friendly conversations had arised. It was surprisingly pleasant, Tissues wasn't all that bad. But Paintbrush kept getting sneezed on, so they decided to keep their distance in the future.
Apple and Marshmallow were nowhere to be found. They had apparently ran off together, rumors said to Purgatory Mansion. Paintbrush was a bit crushed by the information, but nevertheless wished them the best. Maybe, if they could figure out where it was, Paintbrush could sneak out and try to pay them a visit. The idea wasn't too far-fetched.

It was another sunny afternoon when Paintbrush ran into the Cherries.

Paintbrush had woken up alone in their room, the light seeping in through their blinds. Fan often spent most of his time in Test Tube's laboratory, the two had been practically inseperable since Test Tube's elimination. Paintbrush would make a comment about it, but ultimately decided not to. Who were they to judge? After all, they would do the exact same thing if it was Lightbulb instead.
It was just a bit mood-crushing to wake up alone every morning.

Their day had gone on as usual, utterly boring and just the same as every other. Was it Monday or Tuesday? Paintbrush couldn't recall. Everything floated together a bit. Although everyone were content with where they were, it just seemed so tense.
Paintbrush narrowed it down to the season still going. Everyone wanted to know who would win, so things were a little on edge.

As Paintbrush walked down the hallway, two identical boys came out of nowhere and almost knocked them over. The Cherries were laughing and giggling childishly, as if they didn't even notice who'd they ran into.

"Hey, Cherries! What's got you two in a rush?" Paintbrush questioned, coming off more snarky than intended. The twins turned to them at the same time, creepily in sync.

"Oh, sorry Paintbrush!" The left one began, the other one looking apologetic. "We're on our way outside, it's a nice day! Wanna join us?" He asked with glee, and Paintbrush would've said no if it weren't for the puppy-dog eyes he was shooting at them.
So they shrugged with a smile.

"Sure."

The Cherries were so young and carefree compared to everyone else here. Paintbrush didn't know their actual age, but they were always just as cheerful and happy no matter the circumstances. Paintbrush felt a mix of fondness and jealousy towards the twins. Somewhere, deep down, they too wanted to be just as happy as them. But there was too much holding them back. The need to be the best, their anger, their underlying fear of failure. Paintbrush just simply wasn't like them, they thought as they were being dragged outside by two kids less than half their size.

They slammed the front door open, the bright sun blinding Paintbrush for a moment. It was nice outside, not too cold but not too warm either. When was the last time they'd been here?

A couple people had the same idea as them, it seemed. Soap and Microphone were talking about something that Paintbrush couldn't quite make out. Paintbrush leaned onto the wall of the hotel, just taking in the sight of the blue sky and the green grass that had a various mix of different flowers decorating it. A big lively green with splotches of pink tulips and yellow buttercups. It was like taken out of a movie, or something.

Paintbrush made a mental note to paint the scene on a canvas at some point.

"Okay, wait here! We have to show you something!" The right Cherry said, and Paintbrush could only nod before the two kids shot off like bullets and ran out of sight.

Paintbrush sighed. Now what? They supposed they could just wait here. The sun shone warmly onto their face.

They looked around, not really feeling up for a conversation just yet. But a muttering presence caught Paintbrush's attention, and they glanced to their side curiously. Unexpectedly, they knew just who was there, because who else talks to themselves on a regular basis?

"Oh, hey Yin-Yang." 

The addressed one whipped his head up from where they'd been previously staring into space, seemingly not realising that Paintbrush had been there at all. Black and white conflicted eyes met brown curious ones.

Truth is, Yin-Yang and Paintbrush had barely interacted with each other, save from a few times they'd butted heads. Paintbrush had been too competitive and Yin-Yang had been too much of a load to the team for them to ever really find a middle ground. And quite frankly, Yin-Yang were just... a lot. Not that it's their fault, they can't exactly help it. But their contrasting personalities, that couldn't even get along themselves, had irritated Paintbrush to their last nerve.

It seemed like all of their shortlived conversations always ended in some kind of passive aggressive standoff, while Yin tried his best to be helpful. So to see each other again after months was weird, to say the least.

Paintbrush noted that Yin-Yang looked a little more alert than last time they'd seen him. More upbeat, in a way. He was holding something, but Paintbrush didn't see what exactly it was.

"Hey, Paintbrush." Yin said, a half smile on their face. 

Neither of them really knew were to go from there, but Paintbrush looked to their side as they continued. The tension was thick, but it wasn't an angry and serious one like it had been before. It was just nervous, awkward. Uncertain.

"So, how have you been? Like uh, after being eliminated?" Was the first thing Paintbrush could think of.

It was the default question around the hotel. Since their whole lives had been centered around competing on a TV show for the last couple of years, it was no wonder that the first subject to pop up would be 'how have you been after being eliminated?'. Most of the time the answer was mostly something along the lines of fine, okay, so-so and whatever synonym for good you could think of. 
Boring, maybe. But this time Paintbrush genuinely wanted to know.

Yin-Yang seemed to hesitate, unsure of what to say or if he even wanted to say anything to them. But eventually did answer.

"After getting out of that closet, it was actually not that bad." Yin piped up. "It was... not as stupid as I thought it would be." Yang muttered. Paintbrush smirked, a small wave of confidence and comfort washing over them. 

Paintbrush noticed Yin-Yang speech pattern was… different now. Like it had fallen in place more, like a jigsaw puzzle. Their sentences would sometimes overlap or cut each other off before, as if they were both trying to say different things at the same time.

Now, it was a little more timed and calm. It sounded tired, as if the simple task of speaking to Paintbrush was exhausting.

"What are you doing out here anyway? I don't think I've ever seen you outside." Yang said brashly, a suspicious glimpse in his eye. Their facial expression was somewhat of an annoyed and a curious one. Only they could capture two emotions in one grimace.

Paintbrush felt a bit put on the spot, not sure what to say. It was a bit strange, speaking to Yin-Yang of all people as if they were good friends. Yin-Yang seemed to think the same thing, as they were noticably more on edge than usual. Suspicious, as if Paintbrush had some hidden motives.

"Uh, the Cherries dragged me out? I just wanted to get some air, is all." They shrugged, long blonde hair falling off their shoulders with the motion.

Yin-Yang hummed, and turned their gaze back to whatever they were holding in their hands. Paintbrush didn't know if it was Yin, Yang or both of them who had hummed, but they didn't ask either. For some reason, it felt rude. Like an invasion of privacy, in a weird way. 

Instead, Paintbrush also looked at what they were holding. Mostly because they had nothing better to do.
In one hand was a butterfly net, like the ones you'd see on cartoons as a kid. It was brown, and the net had been noticably destroyed and sewn back together in some places. In his other hand was a clear glass jar, with a single butterfly fluttering around in it. 

Paintbrush had never cared much for nature and animals and those sorts of things, only occasionally if they were going to paint something related to it. But never in a million years did they think Yin-Yang caught butterflies in their spare time. Maybe Yin, but even then he couldn't hurt a speck of dust even if he tried. It was a bit surprising, and Paintbrush snickered.

"What's that all about?" They asked, pointing towards their gear in their hands.

The much shorter boy looked at it and then back at Paintbrush with mild annoyance.

"Butterfly catching stuff. Why do you care?" Yang grunted, putting their hands on their hips. 

"Just wondering, you never told me you like butterflies." Paintbrush stated playfully, shrugging. 

The birds chirped as a warm breeze swept through the soft grass, the warm air giving a dreamlike feeling to the sight. Paintbrush reminded themselves to get out more often. They glanced towards the path that the Cherries had ran earlier. Where were they?

Yin-Yang just stood there, staring at Paintbrush with an unreadable expression as the latter just spaced out. They had never really gained much of a liking to Paintbrush. Yin wanted to be friends, but it seemed like Paintbrush had always been so dead-set on winning rather than getting to know their teammates that even he felt pushed away by them. And while Yang didn't like people on default, he couldn't help but feel the exact same way. 
It had felt strangely personal, even though they knew it wasn't. And the fact that Paintbrush didn't even know it since they had never really given them the time of day infuriated them even more. They were eliminated too quickly, and was just left with a conflicted feeling and holding a grudge.

And now Paintbrush were just talking to them out of nowhere? Yin thought it was surprising, Yang thought it was aggravating, and they both agreed on the fact that they didn't like it.

With an almost offended huff, Yin-Yang turned back to tinkering with their stuff angrily.

"Didn't think you'd care." They spat under their breath, unclear which one of them it was.

Paintbrush stopped at that. Their smile faded and they looked at Yin-Yang expectedly.
But there was no follow-up.

"What?" Paintbrush questioned, irritance clear in their tone. It wasn't anger per se, their tone was sour and accusing, yet confused. They didn't really mean to be so angry, they didn't even know why they were. It was just a self-defense mechanism of sorts.

Yin-Yang glanced back at them, with just as much anger. Their eyes met again, although with an entirely different feeling to it now. 

"What, what?" Yang retorted, gripping the handle on the butterfly net harder for every second until his knuckles turned white. 

"What do you mean by that?" Paintbrush asked, brows still furrowed but more genuinely confused this time. A bug flew near Paintbrush’s face and they swatted it away in one fast motion. 

Yin-Yang’s looked down, their eyes flickering from one side to the other, clearly unsure of how to word their feelings. 

They’d never been good at that kind of stuff, especially when it came to articulating it. Sometimes, it was hard for one of them to be sure of what they were feeling or if it was just what the other was feeling. Sharing a body made everything so feel complicated and crammed.

Yang wanted to just shout, tell them out loud how absolutely aggravating their time during the show was because of them. But part of him was too prideful, too scared to do so. And he didn’t know why, because Yang had never felt so small in front of someone else as he did in the moment. But Paintbrush’s mere presence made him feel a strange urge to… prove himself. Impress them. 

Yin also wanted to talk their feelings out, but it was hard when he also wanted Paintbrush to just realise it themselves. Yin was so tired of constantly having to be the bigger person, Yang didn’t make it any easier. Yin was tired, and the fact that Paintbrush couldn’t realise it was so infuriating. 

Paintbrush and Yin-Yang’s bond had always been a bit strange. Paintbrush always took this role as the voice of reason, a self-proclaimed leader.

Yin-Yang was a bit of outsider and had countless times done nothing but be a load to his own team. But Paintbrush had in a weird way been able to bond with them. Because when they weren’t arguing with themselves, they seemed like the most level-headed in the group. Sure, Test Tube was that too, probably more so than them, but her social awkwardness made her way too hard to talk to at all times.

But Paintbrush had put their desire to win above everyone else, which had resulted in a potential friendship, maybe more, wasted.

Yin-Yang pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s just… I didn’t think you’d care. You never really payed much attention to us.” Yin decided on saying. His usual gentle and meek tone was now tired and serious. 

Whether the ‘us’ was referring to Yin-Yang himself, the other Bright Lights members or just everyone else in general was a mystery. And it could honestly be any of the above. 

Paintbrush crossed their arms over their chest, opening their mouth and closing it again. Thoughts whirled around in their head, but had nowhere to settle. 

“I… didn’t know you felt that way.” Paintbrush mumbled, too stunned to say much else. All anger and frustration had washed off and they felt regret. 

Regret over what? They didn’t really know. 

Yin-Yang sighed, if this was any other circumstance, Yang would’ve probably yelled at them to go away and mind their own business. But it wasn’t, and Paintbrush’s words just caused them to groan angrily. 

“Of course you didn’t know. What do you want, Paintbrush?” Yang said abruptly, but with a much more softer tone to it than usual.

Paintbrush didn’t know.

“I just wanted to catch up a little, is that so terrible?” Something within Paintbrush was angry, but they didn’t know why nor did they want to be.

Yin-Yang didn’t budge.

“No, I just… We haven’t really talked in months, and now you’re just here out of nowhere?” Yin questioned, and Paintbrush blinked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t the best as a team captain to you, but I want to get along. That’s why I’m here.” Paintbrush deadpanned, looking down at their hands as they spoke. 
In reality, it wasn’t.

Truth is, Paintbrush had kind of forgotten Yin-Yang in all the midst of people and contestants. But they were here now, and that’s what mattered, right?

“Did you ever really try to understand us? As a teammate? As a friend?” Yin-Yang asked, with an emotion that could only be described as tired.

“I get that it’s hard, I do. But you could’ve at least tried.” They rambled, one voice overlapping the other with a sense of desperation, of hurt. 

Paintbrush just looked at them intently as they spilled their emotions, and for the first time in a long while they felt absolutely helpless. 

A well organised team was the key to victory in Paintbrush’s eyes. And while they didn’t have anything against Yin-Yang, the two were simply not synced enough for the good of the team. 

Paintbrush hadn’t thought of it as personal, they’d just wanted to win. What would their status look like now if they’d actually worked together? They’ll never know, and Paintbrush felt a twinge in their heart at that. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I was just trying to do what was best for the team! Can you blame me?” Paintbrush snapped, a familiar feeling of heat and their vision going red sneaking up on them. 

“Yes! Yes I can!” Yang shouted with just as much power, holding their ground firmly. Somewhere in their head, Yin was telling him to calm down, but he couldn’t hear it. 

“I wanted to be on the team longer, okay? I wanted to win just as much as you. But half of the time you ignored me and the other half you were angry with us. I was just… trying to prove myself, I guess.” The last ‘I wanted to impress you’ was left unsaid.

Yin-Yang let his shoulders slump down as they held their butterfly net close to themselves with both hands like a shield, a solemn look on their face. 

Paintbrush stayed quiet for a few moments, taking in all the information. It seemed like Yin-Yang had more to say than they’d expected. 

The boy had always been a bit of an anomaly, Paintbrush was never sure what to make of them. On one hand, they’d enjoyed the few friendly moments they’d had together. They seemed relatively kind and easy-going. On the other, they could be absolute bastards at times. 

Even then, Paintbrush admired it. 

“Prove yourself to who?” Paintbrush asked, much gentler this time but still firm. Yin sighed.

“I don’t know. You, I guess? You were just so independent and… stuff, y’know.” He gestured with his hand as he spoke, and Paintbrush nodded although they didn’t really know. 

A silence fell onto them as another soft warm breeze rolled in, rustling the leaves in the trees. 

Paintbrush wanted to keep the conversation going, to know more. But they also needed to just lay down and think. Everything had gone so fast.

“I think we’ve got a lot more catching up to do. So, uh. Next time you’re going to catch butterflies, can I come along?” Paintbrush questioned calmly, shrinking in on themselves as they looked at Yin-Yang nervously. 

Yin-Yang’s eyes widened a bit comically, and they seemed to be considering to options for a moment until they huffed. 

“Fine, I guess. But we’re doing it on my conditions.” Yang exclaimed, not looking particularly happy but not completely against the idea either. Paintbrush smiled. 

“Okay.” 

And the conversation fell into another tranquil, as Paintbrush spotted two redheaded small kids running across the grass, one of them holding something unrecognisable in his hands. 

Paintbrush quickly got up.

“Cherries! There you are! What’s that?” They yelled with relief, the twins were just looking at them with glee. 

“We found a bird’s nest!” One of them laughed and the other pointed demonstratively with no words. 

Everyone else who were around got up and went to see the commotion, and as said the left Cherry was holding a bird’s nest with two lone eggs laying inside.

“Wow…” Mic muttered, and Soap looked horrified.

“Oh my god, do you know how dirty those are? You two get inside right now!” She scolded the Cherries, who obeyed with reluctance.

“Ew.” Yang mumbled, and Yin-Yang trailed after Mic and Soap as they went into the hotel.

“Hey, so, uh. Wanna do the butterfly catching tomorrow?” Paintbrush hurried to ask before it was too late, and Yin-Yang turned around on the doorstep. 

After a minute of silence, Yin-Yang smirked. 

“Yeah, see you at 5 AM.” Then they closed the door in Paintbrush’s face. 

“Okay. Wait, 5 AM?”  

Paintbrush rushed inside, trying to find Yin-Yang around the hotel. But they were nowhere to be found, and Paintbrush eventually sighed and gave up. 

The next day, Paintbrush was woken up at 5 AM on the dot by Yin-Yang standing at their door, with one butterfly net in each hand and a dumb smile on their lips.

Chapter Text

The word "invitational" was a word that Paintbrush had grown to despise over these past few weeks.

They'd been thrown into competition once again, with little to no explanation as to how or why. This was their third season, for palette's sake. Couldn't they ever get a break?
It seemed like MePhone4 had a different plan, and Paintbrush couldn't do anything but simply sigh and go along with it. Old friends, bonds that were already there and ties that were already strong. New faces, unfamiliar people they didn't know yet and a fresh start on a lone island covered in palm trees and hope. Somehow, despite their first resentment towards their forced join, Paintbrush thought it wasn't that bad.

The newbies were real characters, but Paintbrush had seen it before. They had never gone through that, themselves. As one of the originals, one of the first classic contestants, they had never gone through the struggle of joining a game where half of the people already knew everything there was to know.

This season the beloved host MePhone had done three teams instead of two. It was new, it was a breath of fresh air and Paintbrush could easily go along with it. Less people on their team meant less people to keep in check. 
Three teams of six meant that the chance of winning and avoiding elimination was even higher this time as opposed to the other seasons, and Paintbrush felt a flame of winning spirit rush through their veins as they gazed over their newfound team. They were excited, truly. Maybe a tad bit too competitive, but can you really blame them? It was a new chance to win a million dollars, one they'd already blown two times before.

Three newbies and three favourites, two of which had been there since season 1. Right off the bat, after the first challenge (which, by the way, was to jump off a cliff. Again. MePhone4 really needs some new ideas.), Paintbrush knew one thing. 

Their team was not going to be anything but chaotic.

This was only proven by todays elimination. It was absolute chaos, argument after argument laced with cups of tea and an abnormal amount of empty soda cans. Paintbrush liked to believe their team was one of the more functional ones here, but it was painfully obvious that this wasn’t the case behind the challenges and cameras.

Granted, they did contribute to the mayhem themselves. As much as they tried to keep everything under control, OJ would constantly step in. Take over, speak a little louder and just be a little better than Paintbrush could ever be. And if anything ticked Paintbrush off, it was the feeling of not being listened to. They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t lost their temper quite a few times by the end of the first day on the island.

The Floor was a hard one for Paintbrush to put into words. He seemed like a nice guy, likeable and friendly. But his tendency to just… appear behind them was quite frankly starting to get on their nerves.

And, he did make them lose the last challenge. Sure, not his fault, but still. Paintbrush needed someone to blame. Somewhere to direct their frustrations.

Candle was good in that way, the one and only girl on the team. It was evident the moment you took a look at her, she was understanding. Long, swirling motions and light breezy clothes that fluttered carefully in the little wind they got on the tropical climate of the island they were on. It was mesmerising. 

Paintbrush would get close to their edge multiple times, to the point of grinding teeth and clenching their fists with the tiniest drop of self control they had left. But with one simple touch and a calm voice, Candle would easily water their temper down until they could actually begin to break down the problem in small amounts. Together. 

They hadn’t known each other for long, but a mutual liking had raised quickly between them. They were a leader, fierce like the waves of a sea. She was a cliff. 

Silver Spoon, a newbie and quite a snobby one, made quite the impression. Paintbrush quickly realised that he wasn't going to cooperate in the slightest, and would only do so if it benefitted him. 

Although they did admire his critical thinking skills, which he didn’t display until the time of elimination, they couldn’t stand the guy. Not only did he get OJ outvoted, he also made a whole deal of it. 

Speaking of him, OJ was stressed. He was a wreck the entire time, had barely even agreed to go on the trip in the first place. The only reason he did go was because Paper had pushed him to go so much and batted such a ridiculous amount of puppy-dog-eyes at him that he eventually had to comply. OJ was used to leading, to being in the spotlight. And he enjoyed making friends.

But the thing was, he was content with how things were. OJ had already won once, he didn’t need another season. So, as much as it pained Paintbrush to admit it, they too agreed that OJ leaving was the best for him. And the hotel. 

This only left one more person in their team. 

Yin-Yang had been the upmost root of the chaos today. They'd already been on the same team once before, and after their brief conversation in the hotel, Paintbrush had put their pride aside for once and given them a chance.

They were met by a soda can in the face.

Paintbrush didn't hate the black-and-white boy, fram from it. They'd started to quite enjoy their time together.
The two, three?, of them had developed a natural push-pull dynamic. Yin-Yang would push, time after time. During challenges, he would go a little further. Test his limits a little more. Try a little harder in an attempt to gain the friendships they'd both missed out on in their previous screentime. 

And Paintbrush would pull. Pull everyone to the last checkpoint, encouraging and ordering around. Organise the disarray until it formed a reasonable team, analyse the problems until they could tackle them. Pull themselves together.

They saw quite a bit of themselves in each other. But it seemed like Yang still hadn’t completely gotten out of his old habits of wreaking havoc. And you can’t exactly have one of them without the other. Plus, it seemed like the viewers weren’t planning on letting Yin-Yang home just yet, so they were stuck together once again. For the better, or the worse.

But Paintbrush had noticed how he would quiet down and actually listen when they gave him an order. They noticed how he always looked at them after completing a task, staring with a gaze that was begging for some kind of recognition and praise. And they noticed how after something so simple as a small compliment, Yin-Yang's eyes would light up and his smile would be impossible to hide for the rest of the day.
Somewhere, Paintbrush felt like it related to their conversation. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't

Nevertheless, Paintbrush grew fond of them.

The events of the day had been hectic. Their team was in shambles, and now scattered across the island for the night. But even though they were tired, Paintbrush just couldn't sleep.

So they wandered.

The beach side, by the empty elimination area, past the cliff and zigzagging through palm trees that swayed in the night breeze without a care. 

They weren’t aiming for anywhere special, but they were looking for something. What it was, they couldn’t quite place.

Paintbrush hadn’t spoken to Yin-Yang after the elimination. But they wanted to, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the way he’d looked heartbroken at the votes in a way he’s never before. 

Or maybe he had been like that before, it wasn’t like Paintbrush would know. 

But frankly and furthermore, Paintbrush wanted to apologise for attempting to vote him off. They knew they didn’t really have to, they weren’t the only person to do so, but Paintbrush knew they were going to be restless the entire night if they didn’t. 

The chilly sand snuck up on their feet as they walked calmly along the beachside, and Paintbrush was almost starting to give up until they saw a flickering warm light not too far away. 

The dark purple hair, pulled into long curls and decorated with all kinds of golden accessories and beads, was enough to give the identity of the person away, even though she was sitting with her back turned to them. 

Candle seemed to be meditating, or just resting. Paintbrush gave light sigh and headed over to her, for reasons no one could explain. Her aura had a tendency to pull people in.

The reflection of the stars flickered in the water.

Carefully, but still comfortably; “Hey, Candle.” 

Paintbrush sat down next to her, digging their heels into the sand. Candle barely even turned her head to face them, but gave a tiny smile as she cracked one eye open to acknowledge their presence. 
She was sitting with her legs crossed, calm and sound. Her flame was still and consistant, lighting up the area around her with a yellowish orange light. The fire was nice and steady, and Paintbrush watched it, entranced.

"Hello, Paintbrush. How are you?"

Her voice, soft and gentle, snapped them out of their thoughts and they sighed. 

"I'm fine. What about you, though? The whole day has been..." Chaotic? Embarrassing? Emotional?

The waves of the ocean rolled in, one by one, all in time. The sea was calm today.

"...it's been stressful on all of us."

Paintbrush looked at Candle, and in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, her face faltered. The smile wiped off of her lips. Paintbrush didn't know if they imagined it or not, but for a quick second it seemed like Candle's flame almost flickered out completely. 
Candle seemed bitter about something. And Paintbrush guessed it had to do with a certain silverware.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." She concluded.

The pair grew quiet for a second, which felt like minutes, until Paintbrush asked her what they had originally came over for.

"Uh, so... have you seen Yin-Yang anywhere?" 

They asked, and Candle giggled sweetly. Paintbrush almost blushed at the laugh, and Candle simply smiled at them.

"I saw him over by the pic-nix table. I can tell you're worried." She stated.

Paintbrush felt weird. On one hand, yes. They were. On the other, did they really want Candle to know? She had an astounding ability to read people like an open book, picking them apart with her mere eyes and directly being able to tell what was troubling someone.
Paintbrush loved her, but they were a pretty private person. Anything they didn't want people to know, they wouldn't tell. So to have yourself laid out like that right in front of you was strange. Uncomfortable.

They scratched the back of their head, their long blonde hair now pulled into a ponytail. They got up on their feet, Candle stayed put. They shifted their weight, testing their pressure on the sand.

"Um, thanks. Have- have a good night, I guess?" They replied, unsure of their words. 

Candle didn't seem to care, or she knew better than to comment on it.

"You too."

And with that, Paintbrush was off, now with a clear destination in mind. Candle watched curiously as they strolled off, smiling in amusement.
Somewhere, she knew Paintbrush was not just worried. Their relationship was a bit more complicated, she could see it in the way they spoke and acted around each other. Something had happened between the two. But she had never watched neither season 1 nor season 2, so the context was missing and she couldn't do much about it. Not that it was really ever her business to begin with, but reading people was her job after all.
Candle had never been very good at palm-reading, but she could see the way Yin-Yang had seen Paintbrush grip their hot mug of tea and she could tell he wondered if it would feel the same to hold their hand and if it would warm them too.

And when he was caught off-guard by her gaze, he had simply blinked and quickly looked the other way.

But hey, she was just another contestant. What did she know?

It’s not like she was psychic. 

Yin-Yang felt conflicted. 

It wasn’t new, it wasn’t uncommon, and it certainly wasn’t unexpected.

It was almost ironic. 

They were sitting near the pic-nix table, just behind their mountain of empty soda cans, curled up and staring at the ground with a blank and distant look. Yang had grown quieter since the whole elimination escapade. Yin was on edge, in a no-nonsense mood. Yang had tried to converse, at first without a care in the world. After all he got was either short and distant answers or angry scolding, he had pretty quickly realised that Yin was in no talkative state. 

And he couldn’t blame him. Mostly because, well, why would Yin get the blame? It was all Yang’s fault anyway. 

So the two sides had barely even spoken to each other, and in the midst of it all the border between them seemed to blur and fade just a tiny bit, mashing them together more than they usually were. Mentally, they were both cooped up in their own separate headspace. Their body was going on auto-pilot, as none of them felt like controlling it at the moment. 

For once in his life, Yang felt scared. Scared of what exactly, he didn’t really know. 

Elimination was inevitable. They both knew well that after a certain amount of time, not only their fellow team members but also the viewers would eventually find them annoying. This was proven in their first elimination, where they'd argued so much that they eventually punched themselves into a portal and appeared in a locked closet on the other side.
Sure, this season seemed different. They even got the immunity vote this time! At first they'd been taken aback. Yang was in disbelief, spitting out his drink in surprise. Yin was ecstatic, finally! 
Then came the votes from their team. And as Yin-Yang kept hearing his own name and seeing his voting icon popping up three times, half of the members of his team, his happiness had changed to shame. Regret.

They'd voted for Paintbrush. Yang had been upset, angry at the world as usual. He was upset he wasn't given more recognition, that he wasn't taken as seriously as he wanted. Yin had protested, but had eventually given in. Paintbrush had been in every season so far, wasn't it just fair to give some others a chance?

They regretted it the moment their hand hit the voting button.

But Paintbrush wasn't eliminated, OJ was. And now Yang was scared, because he knew their lucky streak would eventually run out. And based on today’s voting, it didn’t look very bright for them. 

The huge palm leaves moved a little in the chill night breeze and Yin-Yang jumped as a soda can fell down and disrupted the silence that filled their ears and head. 

The two of them would never be balanced enough. It was as simple as that. They were polar opposites, stuck to each other like magnets. They had always been together and would always be, and even when separated the two halves found that they couldn’t leave the other’s side for long. 

Yang would argue, Yin would apologise. Yin would talk, Yang would disagree. Like clock-work, they needed each other. But at times, they just couldn’t stand each other. They were like siblings, which was technically true. It was a bit hard to know what terms to use in their situation.

Moments like this irritated Yin deep to his soul. He’d always been the quieter one of them, he’d pile up his thoughts and frustrations until they spilled over the top. There had been one thing they’d agreed on before going on the trip, to try and be better. Better friends, better at getting along. Compromises were part of their life, but this had been the first thing in a long while they’d both been 100% down with. 

Now, they’d ruined this too. All because Yang was feeling a little height-jealous. 

Yin mumbled something. 

“…what? I can’t hear you.” 

Yang’s gruff and bold voice called out into the dark. Their body barely moved, even though Yang was mostly in control. 

“I said; you should apologise.” 

Yin simply stated. His voice was clear and crisp as day, despite them both having the same vocal chords. In order to be able to tell who was talking and when, they’d each found a way to alter their voice. Logically speaking, they could sound the complete same, but what was the fun in that? 

Yang blinked, his white eye looking down at the grass in focus as he scrambled for the brilliant answer; 

“Why?” 

And Yin snapped. 

Another shouting match, just like countless others, arose. Both of them trying to overpower the other, even though they knew they couldn’t. 

No matter how hard Yin-Yang tried, they would always end up at war with themselves. 

They didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps approaching, or see the familiar blonde mess of hair until it was no further than five metres away.

Empty soda cans, their teammates, the hotel, the island, their argument shifted from one topic to another until they’d run out of things to fight about, in which they’ll just start the whole ‘I hate being stuck to you!’ escapade again. 

Paintbrush watched in awkward and slightly astonished silence. They tapped their foot in the grass softly, their tan skin on the green grass making for a nice colour combination. 

What was Paintbrush supposed to even say? How could they say anything at all? They didn’t want a repeat of their previous experiences with the Bright Lights. 

Paintbrush coughed. Well, a greeting was a start. 

“Uh… hey.” 

And suddenly, the yelling halted. Yin-Yang turned to Paintbrush, having to tilt their neck rather comically in order to get a good perspective of their friend. 

A moment of deja vu rolled in, and Paintbrush’s eyes flickered from Yin-Yang, to the ground, to the sky and back to Yin-Yang again. An uncertain atmosphere hung in the air. 

Yin-Yang didn’t smile, or do anything. He sat on the ground, making himself look even smaller than usual. Yang’s hand was gripping the grass harshly, Yin’s was raised half-way. As if he was about to grip his hair the moment before Paintbrush interrupted them. 
A second passed, and Yin-Yang blinked and looked down to the ground. 

“…Hi.” 

Paintbrush breathed out a sigh of relief, though not sure why. A small, careful smile made it’s way onto their face. 

Yin-Yang didn’t do much, they had put down both their hands on their knees. He was leaning a bit to the side, as if he was trying to get as far as possible away from Paintbrush. 

Paintbrush swallowed, sighed, and let their body go numb and their arms hang to their side like a rag-doll. They’re always so tense, so desperate for the title of leadership that sometimes they forget what it feels like to take it easy. It wasn’t like this before the competition. Not that Paintbrush can really remember anything from before it all started, all that their memories can paint is fields of ugly dirt-green grass and blue skies. Do they have anything to go back to after all is said and done? Or was this absurd and erratic game show their only purpose? 

They had met countless of people, all strange and odd in their own ways. They had seen all kinds of weird places, from huge cliffs and lemon-covered trees to an entire hotel built in a day. 

For some reason, they just never really reflected on it. It was simply was life was like for them, an endless loop of trying and trying again. They built themselves up high, and then they fell down when they couldn’t reach the top. It felt like the world was against them at times, having little to no purpose other than to compete. As Lightbulb had once questioned them, when was the last time they even painted anything? 

Yin-Yang was different, he and Paintbrush weren’t the best of teammates. But they weren’t enemies. It was like putting two positive or two negative forces against each other, they’d push each other away despite how similar they actually were.

Yin was about to start a conversation, to apologise for their attempt to vote Paintbrush off. But Yang made him bite his tongue, metaphorically. Apologies and politeness came easy to Yin, always at the tip of his tongue. Did he do something on accident? Sorry, he’ll do better next time. Was he late for something? Apologies, won’t happen again! Had his other half ruined a challenge by building a giant mountain of soda cans? My bad, whoops. 

Yin had been accustomed to apologising and asking for forgiveness from others, sometimes Yang had to remind him that he should put himself first a little more. That his feelings needed to be preserved, too. Not out of the goodness of Yang’s heart, but more because Yang didn’t want to be attached to someone who couldn’t stand up for themselves. A loser, in other words. 

As Yang had softened, Yin had toughened up. Their roles were still the same, they were still two separate individuals and not one person with a split personality. They were just not so… one-dimensional anymore. The show had taken all of Yin-Yang’s quirks and flaws, enlarged them and squeezed all of it dry of any humour and slapstick until they were just problems again. Yin-Yang was truly not really that different from before, they were simply letting themselves show that their personality consisted of more than merely arguing. That they could and would contribute with so much more, if just given the chance to do so.

And Paintbrush wanted to give them that chance. 

“I…”, a sigh. “How’re you doing, Yin-Yang?”

And this time, it was Yin-Yang who didn’t know. 

How were they really? That was a big question, more than the two of them could answer. Behind their eyes, Paintbrush could tell there was so much more that the strange boy didn’t tell anyone. Anyone could see that. Yin-Yang had so much baggage, stuff he didn’t even bother to explain to anyone because he knew he was already such a weirdo to others that if he even began to try and make any logic of his mind it would take an eternity. He knew their brains chaotic way of functioning wouldn’t make an ounce of sense, especially not to someone as structured and organised as Paintbrush. His usual response was therefore ‘I’m fine.’ But this time, Yin-Yang didn’t feel like lying. 

“I’ve been better.” Yang decided. Paintbrush nodded stiffly out of instinct, and then had to remind themselves that this was a friendly conversation. Not anything that would effect the competition. 

Tension hung like a cloud, the air as thick as tar. And suddenly, the floor felt like a sea. And the two of them were on separate deserted islands, trying hard to reach out to each other and connect with no experience on how to do so. It was all just blind attempts that somehow made the tension even more awkward. 

“Hm. Yeah, I get that.” Paintbrush said sympathetically, though they didn’t really. 

The blonde walked closer to Yin-Yang, the latter staring at them in confusion and instinctively backing away a bit. Paintbrush sat down next to them, still at a reasonable distance for personal space but close enough to make it feel personal. And after a second or two, Yin-Yang’s muscles relaxed and he stopped staring, simply accepting their new position. 

The stars twinkled in the sky, and Paintbrush couldn’t help but feel nostalgic at it. The season 2 contestants always had to sleep outside, in the grass, at night. When they had been restless and bored, Paintbrush would count the dim stars until the night turned into day. The sky was much more beautiful and clearer here though. It seemed like Paintbrush and Yin-Yang had a bit of a habit of meeting and conversing at such scenic places. 

“I’m sorry.” Came the sudden statement, Paintbrush just softly blurted it out. 

And Yin-Yang was completely quiet, for once in their life-time. The apology was sudden, for the both of them. They never really got many of those, but whenever they did they always made sure to accept it out of politeness. 

But they weren’t sure this time. And it was a weird feeling. Yin and Yang had always functioned together a certain way, their whole lives built on cooperation and routines. But ever since Paintbrush, they had begun to differ from their routine more and more. There were so many things they could tell Paintbrush, they could dive deep into this psychological anomaly that they were, and explain how it was absolute nonsense for Paintbrush to even begin to think that they could ever straighten someone as him out. But they didn’t, because none of them felt like opening that gateway just yet.

And, for one, they didn’t want this conversation to end. They didn’t want to go back to this leader-and-follower dynamic they’d once had before. If there was one thing they wanted Paintbrush to know, it was that Yin-Yang was no follower. Sure, he could take an order and follow an instruction, but at the end of the day he would always find a way to steer things off-track out of pure devious fun.

But they didn’t want to have to go to such lengths just for Paintbrush to look at them. They wanted be friends, equals.

“…Sorry for what?” Yang tested, dipping his toes in the symbolic pool of just how deep this topic could go.

Paintbrush blinked, their heart beating loudly and they had to pull themselves together as they talked. It wasn’t that this was a hard conversation, they had initiated it after all. It was just that Paintbrush was so unused to this type of emotional vulnerability.  

“For everything. Voting for you. I thought it would be a good idea…” Paintbrush trailed off, their mouth still running as their brain fumbles for the right words. “I guess I’m still not that great of a leader, huh?” 

A small chuckle escaped through their tiny lop-sided smile but their brows were still furrowed. They look at Yin-Yang expectantly, their head is empty and clear. They’re still, simply waiting for the other’s sign. Didn’t matter what they were going to say, Paintbrush was all ears. 

Yin-Yang blinked, and the two of them meet each others eyes. Paintbrush’s brown eyes were deep, pulling them closer to them. They were a warm shade of autumn brown, a warm spirit shining through them somewhere and Yin-Yang couldn’t help but admire it quietly. Their own eyes were so very black and white, just like so much else about them. Yin’s eye was a dark black, making his pupil look big like a puppy. It made him look soft, despite his sharp tongue. Yang’s eye was completely blank white, a fierce glimpse in it. 

Paintbrush tapped a finger against their own leg, to a rhythm only they could hear. The distant sound of waves filling in the ear-piercing silence.

“We voted for you, too.” Yin mentioned, with an uncharacteristically numb tone. 

Paintbrush felt like they knew that already, somewhere they had put two and two together and made the connection. But that still didn’t help them from letting their smile falter and their brows furrowing. 

Connection was a two-way street, Candle had said. And if anyone knew connection, it would be the very people sitting next to Paintbrush. So why did they always have to be so difficult? Paintbrush made a sound somewhere between a groan and a hum. 

It was all so hard. They knew they hadn’t exactly done the best of jobs at making friends with Yin-Yang earlier, but his lack of communication was aggravating. 

Mentally, Yin and Yang were in another back-and-forth dispute. Yang didn’t want to let their guard down, didn’t want anyone to see them this emotionally raw. Yin thought it would be for the best for all of them, desperately clinging to a mantra of ‘if they’re here that means they must care, right?’. 

Yin-Yang and Paintbrush looked at each other for a minute, before both of them angrily turning the other direction. The mood had gone sour, a barrier previously not there was now put between them. The moment of understanding had passed, if there was ever a moment to begin with. 

Paintbrush sighed deeply. 

“Why does this keep happening?” 

The question rung out in the emptiness of the night, Yin-Yang not quite sure what they were hinting at. 

“Hm?” They simply responded, Paintbrush could sense their confusion even though they were no longer looking at each other. 

“Why…” Paintbrush tried, not having found the right words yet. “Why can’t we just… try again? Be friends?” 

A quiet tranquility fell over them, and Yin-Yang shifted in his spot. Why couldn’t they? 

“It’s… not that easy.” Yin began. Paintbrush tilted their head as they turned back to look at him. “For us.” 
Paintbrush initially misunderstood the last part until Yin-Yang put his hand up to point at himself, a look of something between sadness and embarrassment across his face. 

Paintbrush’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as they were once again reminded of what the symbol Yin and Yang were formed after actually entailed, multiple questions forming and piling up in their head. But they didn’t pry, that was simply not what Paintbrush was like. They understood the concept of privacy, even though they would never ever truly understand just what it was like for the two alters.

Yin-Yang could see Paintbrush’s questioning and sighed shakily. 

“It’s hard for us to… kind of… let people in when we’re still trying to… figure out ourselves. Each other.” Yin spoke, words coming out choppy and hard to form. “Whatever.” Yang added, simply for the sake of also taking part of the conversation. This was something that touched both of the sides, after all. 

And Paintbrush could just nod. The feeling of not achieving their goal caused a pit of dissatisfaction in their stomach, but they could settle for an explanation as simple as that. They simply had to, not daring to touch the delicately fragile relationship Paintbrush and Yin-Yang had finally managed to form. Things were still awkward, things were still weird, but it was okay. Paintbrush felt okay, and Yin-Yang was okay. 

“…Sorry.” Yang added, a nervous frown on his face. “For… that. And for everything today.” Paintbrush could feel that they were trying, and they smiled back. 

“It’s okay, really. I’m just glad you’re fine.” They stated softly, a quick nod letting Yin-Yang know that it was genuine. Like a secret code, or a command. A nod of appreciation. 

Yin-Yang smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They turned their head forward, staring at nothing in particular but looking more and more worn by the second. Paintbrush also felt the side effects of late night conversations creeping up on them, not knowing what the time was. The moon shone bright, the sky a dark purple hue. 

“Look, just…” Paintbrush began again, the conversation itching to end but they weren’t done. Yin-Yang looked at them tiredly.

“I understand how you feel, alright? Just know that… I’ll wait. If that’s what you guys need. If you need more time, I can wait. We don’t need to rush things, I just… wanted to talk things out. I want to be friends.” Paintbrush concluded, having nothing left to say. 

Yin-Yang nodded.

“Alright. Thank you.” Said with a lilt that said are you done? 

A veil of weirdness had been hung over them, the situation absurd and abstract. Maybe it was the tiredness getting the best of them, but it was finally quiet. They’d run out of words, no topic worth their time at this point. 

Paintbrush was okay with that. They weren’t ecstatic, they weren’t even particularly happy. But things could’ve gone worse, now they at least had an explanation. Even though they knew well that this was just the tip of the iceberg, they could settle for that. Paintbrush was a fighter, through and through. And so far, they had never backed down from anything. 

Yin-Yang took a deep breath, the feeling of fear finally wearing down. They knew Paintbrush, they knew what they were like, and they knew that this was not the last conversation they would have. 

But Yin-Yang didn’t mind. It had been so long since someone had reached out and tried to understand them, all flaws and all quirks aside. Emotionally touch-starved, they couldn’t help but feel choked up about it all. A warm happiness hugging their skin tightly. 

It wasn’t going to happen in a day or two, relations like these never formed that quickly. But Yin-Yang and Paintbrush were both okay with that, they could both settle for it. At least, they now had different perspectives of it, a new view on what this strange relationship could make itself out to be. Paintbrush felt good about it this time, Yin-Yang was excited to see what they could achieve together. And as the night turned to another day, and everything around them continued to go on just like it always did, they both felt like this was going to be something special.