Archive of Our Own ^beta

“And the tenth contestant voted out: Balloon.” 

Silence.

The object in question let out a quiet sigh. Really, everyone had expected that to happen. His previous track record was no secret, after all. It was no surprise he was eliminated the moment voting became the contestants’ choice. 

He spared a glance at Suitcase on his way to the portal. She remained the only object who believed he could change. He supposed it could be because she wasn’t in season one; Microphone had also been civil but distant. Who knew how that would have marred her view of him.

“Uh, s’alright,” he breathed. “It probably wasn’t easy.” 

The only response was a slight hitch in her breath. As it appeared to everyone watching, she was barely holding herself together despite the fact she very likely knew it would happen. They all did. Who else could anyone have possibly voted for?

“W-wait!”  

Even so, the air around them seemed to pause as the one contestant stood up from her post. It had taken her a moment, but the sudden realization spurred on an uncharacteristic impulsiveness. She was certain there was so much more hidden in Balloon’s short statement, only that of its intended recipient could find it, and she wasn’t about to let it go. Stepping off the post, the travel bag stopped just short of him. “Balloon, did you really…” 

He smiled. He just smiled. “You’re gonna go far, Suitcase. I know it.” 

Whatever words she tried to form failed her after that. It wasn’t hard for the back-facing contestants to imagine tears welling up in her eyes as she pressed her face into Balloon’s side. It was a little awkward, as she didn’t have arms, but he caught on quickly enough and wrapped his own around the little brown object. 

“Thank you.” 

For being kind, for sticking up for him, for making her choice, for… everything.

And just like that, he was gone. 

Contestant voting would never be simple, as everyone had learned in that moment. It was undeniable that no one really liked Balloon, but that couldn’t stop them from feeling at least the tiniest bit regretful as Suitcase stood, staring at the spot where her friend used to be. Everyone could feel the question of whether or not he truly deserved it. 

“Well, we all saw that coming.” 

Everyone except… 

“Nickel,” Baseball hissed. “Maybe not now.” 

“It’s not like anyone’s surprised,” the coin responded. “After everything he’s done to us? Come on!” 

“Nickel…” 

“I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, to be honest. I always thought viewers hated tyrants.” 

“Nickel.” 

“And he voted for me! That means his next goal was to tear us apart.” 

“Nickel.” 

“We’re an alliance, of course we’re a target. So as far as I’m concerned, good ridd—”

“Balloon didn’t vote for you!” 

He paused, turning away from Baseball as it finally dawned on him that it wasn’t his friend calling his name. “What?” he breathed, dangerously low.

But Suitcase didn’t respond, continuing with a defiant glare that was seldom seen on her. An amplified gasp rang around the courtyard as at least one other contestant connected the dots. Because the only way she could know that was if—

“I did.” 

“Wh—” Nickel stuttered disbelievingly. “Why? After everything I’ve done for you—” 

“Everything you’ve done for me?” Suitcase scoffed. “All you’ve ever done was try to push my friend away from me! You don’t have to like him, but you can’t decide who my friends are! A-and…” she paused, not entirely sure of the validity of her next sentence, “I don’t think you even… really like me. We don’t talk!” 

“Suitcase, I’m always looking out for you,” Nickel responded, tone softening as if she actually struck a nerve there. She backed off immediately. “But my point still stands. The way I see it, intentional or not, Balloon was driving a wedge between us, and I don’t want that.” 

His comfort ended up giving the wrong effect as Suitcase straightened, nearly towering over him. “Don’t you get it?” She sighed. “He was willing to let everyone believe he voted for you to keep me safe, a-and I can’t have that! I’m done letting you walk over me. One way or another, I have to make my presence known.” 

Nickel sputtered for a moment, casting his eyes across the courtyard, landing on Baseball, on the rest of his team, on MePad. On the single little icon of his face. “W-well, a lot of good that did you. All you did was make yourself known as a traitor. You achieved nothing.” 

“Actually,” MePhone said, cutting into the conversation for the first time in a hot minute, “Funny you bring that up. You know how I said I’d make up for it next time?”

He was a very stark contrast to the atmosphere surrounding the Grand Slams, but it didn’t appear to bother him as he continued, “Well, it’s a double elimination! Surprise!” 

Silence blanketed the courtyard as the news sunk in. The cake Toilet had pushed onto the platform while no one was paying attention didn’t manage to change that, nor did him leaping out of it. 

“What?” Nickel hissed. 

“Nickel, since you were the only other contestant to receive a vote, you’re automatically eliminated as well,” their host explained nonchalantly. “Wow, this contestant voting really is fun. We should do it more often. How do you feel about that, MePad?” 

Toilet began pushing Nickel, still frozen in shock much like everyone else present, toward the portal. “I can’t feel anything, Sir.” 

“Oh.” MePhone shrugged. “Well, any last words to your voter, Nickel?” 

The object sucked in a long breath, releasing it slowly through his teeth. “I should have expected this, huh?” he muttered. He stood up to his full height, staring Suitcase down from across the yard. “Well, you made your choice. Remember that whatever happens after this will be on you.” 

But he couldn’t keep his dignity as Toilet butted him through the portal before zipping to his boss in an attempt to garner praise. “That’s… not what I meant,” Knife sighed over his admittedly loud rambling. 

“This night was certainly… lively,” Microphone responded, voice pitched as high as it would normally be loud. “I’m going to get going.” 

There was only one set of eyes not too distracted to follow her out. Knife returned to flitting his gaze between his two other teammates, both staring into the ground. Suitcase realizing her actions tonight had a graver impact than she could ever imagine, and Baseball looking… like he was about to explode, in all honesty. 

“What was that, Suitcase?” 

There it was. 

Whatever stutter she responded with died under the shadow of her larger teammate. “This isn’t how we deal with problems! We needed to stick together! I talked to you about this!” 

The hosts had left once the eliminations were over, meaning there were only two objects left to witness the suitcase tremble like a leaf. A really large brown one. “I-I know. I’m sorry.” 

“We’re an alliance! You need to talk to him before you resort to voting him out!”

“I tried—“

“But nooo, that was too much to ask. It’s like I’m the only one who cares about keeping us together!”

“…” 

“And now Nickel is gone! My best friend is gone.” 

Baseball’s breathing slowly faded out, becoming overtaken by the crackling of the torches that kept them lit. The wind carried their noise throughout the courtyard, whispering what he hadn’t said. 

Because of you.

It was received loud and clear as his friend stared up at him. No matter how angry he was, the object was still sensible enough to realize he crossed a line. It was hard not to notice, especially when the tears his teammate fought to keep back finally broke free and trickled downward. Suitcase’s full height was nothing compared to Baseball‘s, but stand she did, ignoring the blur in her sight and shake in her voice. 

“So is mine.” 

She turned and left.

One could never guess that an object as sturdy as a baseball could sag with the weight of his own words. Knife let out a low whistle, dragging it out as long as he had the breath. Baseball gave him a side-eye. 

“Way to exclude Suitcase,” he commented. “Although, I guess she wasn’t really Nickel’s friend in the first place.” 

“What do you want?” his team captain asked hollowly. 

“To understand what the heck just happened,” he answered simply. “Don’t you?” 

“This isn’t your business,” Baseball muttered.

Knife got off his post, leaning casually on the larger object. He didn’t budge, used to it at this point. “Maybe not, but when has that ever stopped me?” 

There was a sigh, but the support didn’t move from under him, so he took it as a sign to continue. “Maybe Suitcase voted for Nickel to show him she meant business. There’s no way she didn’t know everyone would vote for Balloon. He did lose us the challenge.”

He paused. There was still no response. “Guess she wasn’t banking on Balloon voting for himself, though. Then again, he seemed like too much of a pipsqueak to vote for anyone else.” 

That got a hollow laugh. “Did you forget everything he did to us in season one?” 

Knife raised an eyebrow. “No. Did you forget everything he did in season two?” 

Again, there was no response. “Objects change.” The blade shrugged. “Some realize their mistakes, others reach their limit.” He didn’t know where Microphone fell on that spectrum, but he had the feeling he would find out soon enough. 

“What Suitcase did was irrational,” Baseball muttered, quietly and disbelievingly like he was trying to convince himself. 

Knife scoffed. “Of course she was. She got your friend voted off. But you were being irrational too.” 

At his captain’s silence, which he took as confusion this time, he simply continued, “Why do you think she voted for Nickel? He wouldn’t let her talk.” 

With that, he turned down the path, leaving the object who first created their team to become the last one left.