Chapter Text
a prima vista — at first sight.
“Is this, uh… Is this a daily occurrence?”
You stare at the lady in pink with a scrutinizing expression for just a second longer before tearing your eyes away, contemplating throwing the glasses out entirely. There is no way you could fathom the idea of glasses being something to ‘summon’ humanized versions of your furniture or objects—whatever that means. You don’t know how this works. At all. You’re really confused. Seriously. At the very least, someone should tell you that this shit comes with an instruction manual. This is not something you’re equipped to handle.
As casual as you can be about this situation, you feel like you’ve lost your mind. Quite literally. This couldn’t actually be real, could it? Like, your objects aren’t actually sentient, or whatever?
No, it’s very much real. Painfully real.
You’ve already ‘Awakened’ some objects because of Skylar telling you to do so, but now you’re just processing everything happening in your life. It’s not the worst thing that could happen— You lost your job to an AI, so there’s that. Then again, a corporate job is not your kind of lifestyle, so you aren’t too surprised it happened. Unbothered, even. Things come and go, you live a simple life, and you aren’t going to ask for more.
Dorian, the door. Maggie, the magnifying glass. Phoenicia, your phone.
You decide it’s not worth mentioning the puns in their names, because it’s rude. You don’t know if the customs are different for them. Again, not your business. Why would you care about something like that?
There are a lot of things you have to think about. For one, your life is already changing by the second because of these things, and now you have to date them? Befriend them, even? You guess it’s better than any other dating app, not that you’re quite interested in dating objects. What if it’s different? No, seriously, what are the chances that they like you, anyway? Is it all the same?
So many questions.
Hmm. Hm, hm… Mhm. You nod your head, staring up at the ceiling rather blankly. Of course, the ceiling is a human, too, and so you redirect your gaze elsewhere. Is it rude to be staring? Probably. It most definitely is, isn’t it?
This is not the life you thought you’d be leading, but it’s most certainly a life you’re leading. You drum your fingers on the table rhythmically, almost like second nature. It’s something you’re used to doing. You wonder if the piano is mad at you for never using it, because you most certainly could—music is something you don’t mind doing at all. No, you remind yourself, I quit that a long time ago. I’m just holding on to old memories.
“Sooo,” Skylar drags out, peeking her head at you with a warm smile, “are you ready to Awaken the other objects? I know this is putting a lot of pressure on you, but trust me, it’ll all be worth it later on! You should continue working on your relationships with the other dateable objects!”
Right.
Right, right, right.
Dateable, as in you can get with your own furniture. God, if you told some of your friends right now, you’re pretty sure they would laugh at you. Terrible, really. This is why you can’t ever let them know.
“Uh… Huh. Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks.” You might need someone to hold your hand and to walk through all the steps again. You stay in your spot, mind racing at the idea of having to meet more people. Why would they send you glasses, of all people? Terrible. Again, so so very terrible. “Yep.”
You haven’t moved from your spot.
Skylar blinks at your inability to move, a look of confusion crossing her features. “Uh… I mean, you do have all the time in the world, though you should get a move on… Unless you’re scared? I get this is a lot to take in, so really, take your time and stuff, but—”
“Not scared,” you amend. “Just processing everything. A lot to take in, yeah? Just give me a second. I’ll, er, go to the bathroom or something to meet everyone else.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” she muses. “Well, no worries! This didn’t take a charge or anything off your Dateviators… Just here to help for the time being. I know what it’s like to get, well, jumbled by sudden things. No worries!” Ever the angel, and you’ve just met her. She watches your expression shift, but it continues to stay relaxed.
Curiously, she wonders if you’ve ever… panicked before. Obviously, she doesn’t want these things to happen, but it’s not something she’s seen. Not since she’s arrived. Based on what she’s heard from the others, you aren’t the type to get angry or panicked, either—fretting over details isn’t your kind of thing. But she does wonder if it has, because no one is perfect, no matter what anyone says. People get upset, people yell, people scream and shout.
Surely, you’ve had to yell before?
“’Kay, I’m ready.” You don’t give her time to process as you walk into the bathroom.
Skylar scrambles after you, alarmed. Dorian doesn’t even bother offering you a nod of his head, because you’d just barged inside the ‘lavatory,’ as he’d call it, without any warning.
“Wait, hey!”
But for now, she just has to focus on helping you form bonds with the others. Even hate, but she hopes you stray far away from that path. Hate isn’t a good look on anyone, after all.
“Is this, uh… Is this a daily occurrence?” You just wanted food, a bowl in your hands already, as you stare up at the ceiling rather contemplatively. “I mean, listen, is this really any of my business to fix? I feel like it shouldn’t be something that I should deal with. Hmm… Yeah, I mean, I could—”
Your small mumbles are cut short due to the loud shouting increasing in the laundry room. Slowly, your gaze shifts from the ceiling to the door blocking everyone’s sight from what’s going on in the other room. No, seriously, they have been going at it for a few minutes or so. From what you can tell with your glasses on still, you can tell that the others aren’t too impressed with what they’re hearing, either. This is terrible.
How are you supposed to enjoy your damn meal if Harper and Dirk can’t stop shouting at each other? You scratch your head, shoulders sagging.
“I know you don’t necessarily need my input, but it would be a good idea to stop them from fighting any longer,” Dorian says, knowing you’ve been contemplating your choices. “Might as well do something about them before they rip each other to bloody shreds. Harper’s getting louder and louder, as you can tell.”
Your hands find your face, covering them as you take in a deep breath.
Not the worst thing you could be doing on this fine day, no. Definitely not. You could be spending time texting friends, watching movies, spending time with the other objects, or just sleeping. All the good stuff, but here you are, playing the couple’s therapist that they should… really seek out at some point in their lives. Like, desperately. You’re being serious because you’re not a therapist. Not something you’re equipped to handle, really.
“All soldiers wear vests before heading to war,” Luke oh-so-helpfully chimes in. “You got this, Ranger!”
“Good luck out there,” Stefan adds dryly. “Don’t miss the heat of the kitchen too much.”
“Oh, and if you ever need your food to be chilled, you can use me, cool kid!” Freddy grins, wanting to make the situation less stressful. “I’m always here for you!”
Your eyes flicker to them, a dull smile replacing your naturally relaxed one. For a second, it feels like your expression coils into a fixed ‘happy’ one, but it immediately drops when you stand up from your seat. Grimacing, you absentmindedly thank Abel for managing everything that you couldn’t hold onto for the time being. Hey, at least he’s the one keeping your food safe for the time being. No one else seems like they can protect what you’re eating.
As you make your way towards the laundry room, you can feel a headache slowly rising from what you can hear on the other side. Thankfully, Dorian allows you inside without any trouble. Probably because he doesn’t want to deal with the whole mess, unlike you, who’s forced to deal with it.
“You never listen to me!” Harper’s shrill voice pierces your ears, and you abruptly close the door behind you so the others don’t have to deal with this. “I bet you’re cheating on me with the Hanks, aren’t you!? Off having a stupid affair, and now that I’ve caught you in the act, you’re making me seem like the crazy one! Well, guess what, Dirkie!? I’m not crazy! It’s you, it’s completely you! I know you’re cheating on me, and lying isn’t going to help you! Not one bit!”
“Where the fuck did you even get that idea from, huh!? God forbid a guy wants some peace and quiet, right? You’re insane in the head, Harper!” Dirk seethes, gnashing his teeth at her. “Literally insane!”
You glance between them, debating on taking off your glasses and leaving the rest of the objects to handle this messy situation that you find yourself constantly dragged into. It’s not like you’re really interested in trying to figure out how to fix their relationship. You hardly understand half the things going on in your own life right now. Like, your mind is still wrapping around the fact that a robot replaced you. Never thought something like that could happen, but you guess the future is now. Your face drops at the thought.
More screaming.
More shouting.
Absentmindedly, you tilt your head to the side, wondering if they’d ever notice you. This time, you clear your throat, trying to catch their attention.
Instantly, their heads swerve in your direction.
“Oh, you!” Harper’s posture relaxes at the sight of you, expression simmering down into one of placated kindness, but you know better. “How long have you been here? It’s been so long since we last saw you! I was beginning to wonder if you’d never show up again! You know, if Dirkie here scared you off, don’t be intimidated by him! He’s harmless,” she says through a smile. “Other than his words, of course!”
“How many times do I gotta tell you to not call me that in front of others?” Dirk asks, exasperated. “And stop acting like I’m the one who hurt you! You’re the one throwing nasty words in my direction.”
As glad as you are that the yelling has died down, you just know you’re going to be dragged into something much, much worse, so you move past the small insults directed at each other. You shrug your shoulders, giving them a lazy smile in return. “Oh, you know… I’ve been busy, trying to help the other objects get along and stuff. Really, it’s stuff I can’t be bothered to explain, and a bit private, anyway,” you muse, a finger on your chin. “Everything alright with you two?”
“Hm? Oh, yes! Of course!” The smile on Harper’s face is fixed—strained, and one you can tell is pretty much fake. It doesn’t convince you, but she continues. “Like I said, nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry you had to hear that!”
Dirk goes silent, clearly irked by her mannerisms, but says nothing more.
You give her a thumbs-up. “Cool. Honestly, I was just checking in, ’cause the whole kitchen could hear you guys shouting, so you know— Just wanted to see if you guys were doing alright or not.” You eye them, not knowing how else to really explain that they’re extremely toxic to each other. How many friends have gone through this situation? You hope not many. “Look, uh… Since you guys are, you know, good and stuff… Why don’t you guys take a small… breather from each other…?” Every word that you say makes you wonder if this is the right choice.
“What?” They both sound incredulous at the idea.
You hum. “Maybe I said the wrong thing— Well, I mean, you know how, like, some people take breaks from each other, no matter how much they love each other?” You’ve met plenty of people who’ve done this. “They always end up back together, but maybe the time away would help you guys realize other things about each other…? Helped some of my friends when they were constantly arguing.”
Harper shuts down your idea almost immediately. “Good idea, but no. I can’t stand the idea of my Dirkie leaving me… I don’t want to cling to him, but I just need him in my sights almost always! You understand, right?”
Cringing, Dirk raises an eyebrow. “I need my own personal space. I just need a minute, or something, Harper! You hardly give me that much time!”
“Yeah, because you could be off cheating—”
Please, God, give me strength.
“Okay.” You hold your hands in the air, an awkward smile adorning your face. “Yeah, so… How ‘bout we just… calm down for a second— No arguing, just, uh… You know, chill! I like chilling. You guys like to chill? I’m all for chilling together. If you’re chilly together, always good to warm each other up,” you say with a nod. “Uh—by… cuddling and stuff like that, yup.”
“Ooh…” Intrigued, Harper turns to Dirk with a big, warm smile. “You know, that’s not that bad of an idea, Dirkie! Let’s do that! Let’s cuddle!”
Yeah.
Okay.
Sure.
Slowly, you make your way towards the door, hand reaching for the knob oh-so-very discreetly. Mission accomplished; you can go back to your food, right? It’s probably cold after being left out like that. God, you wish you could just eat without any interruptions. Too bad life isn’t like that for you.
You immediately leave the room when you hear Dirk give her a response that tells you to get out of the laundry room, so you return to where you came from: the kitchen.
Fantastic. You get to eat your food.
“Congratulations,” Dorian drawls once you shut the door. “You’ve made it out alive, human.”
“And with a clean record,” Freddy helpfully adds with a smile. “Your food’s cold, though. You sure you wanna eat that, cool kid? I’m sure you could eat something else if it’s not what you want anymore!”
Luke puffs his chest rather proudly. “You can always use my microwave, Ranger! It’s what a soldier deserves after going through hell and back!” he exclaims, and you hope the two in the laundry room can’t quite hear them talking. Maybe they can. It’s none of your business. Seriously.
You cough. “Yeah, uh… Thanks. Yep. I’ll use the microwave. Thanks, Luke.”
The human is strange.
You are strange.
Not in the sense that you have weird habits, strange thoughts, or anything like that. No, you’re rather ordinary with things like that. Rather nonchalant about everything that’s happening. You didn’t overreact or anything like that, just stared up at your ceiling for quite an awfully long time, processing everything Skylar had told you. But once you understood almost everything, you nodded and said, yeah, sure, whatever. Very aloof. Very distant.
It’s just something you should be getting used to, but on the first day, you walked around without the dateviators on. A small action that doesn’t go unnoticed by the objects, yet one that no one really questions. It’s not something that can be blamed, because it takes time getting used to these things.
Dorian isn’t thrown off by your attitude, knowing that you’re just flippant at times, but rather laxed and laid back. A bit too laid back for his liking, but he remembers when you’d constantly go out. Hanging out with friends, doing things that adults would do—you were definitely more alive back then, but you’re toned down. He isn’t sure what happened that caused the change, but no one knows. Not Betty, not Amir, not Diana, your own diary. You’ve long left her alone to her own devices, never writing inside the book for years.
He doesn’t know what you’re really up to nowadays, and he has multiple versions of himself that he sees all the time.
And, yeah, he doesn’t know what’s going on in your mind. Despite being the homeowner and despite home being a safe space, you always keep to yourself. Never saying what’s going on, never talking about what’s going on— It’s so strange. Usually, the objects should know a lot of things about you, but they don’t.
Isn’t that just confusing?
He’d remember glimpses of friends you brought over a few years ago, though you hardly invite anyone over now. It’s none of his business, and even if someone—Beverly, Bathsheba, Scandalabra—bothered asking Phoenicia or Mac about what happened to your friends, they didn’t really comment on the matter. Said it wasn’t their business to say. If you aren’t going to talk about it, then they won’t say anything. Plus, it’s not like it matters now. It’s in the past.
However, Dorian is everywhere.
He can hear you talking on the phone sometimes.
Your responses were withdrawn, quiet, and just more agreeable than anything else. Nothing like the person you are. It’s a bit worrying and just weird, hearing the soft yeah or quiet sure, like you didn’t have anything to add. You’ve been rather talkative. Well, not too talkative, but you’re a sociable person. Flexible, even.
There are just some things you don’t talk about.
And that’s fine. Everyone’s entitled to their own privacy, after all.
“You know, you’ve lived here quite some time,” Dorian says one time, when you choose to talk to him instead of the other options loitering around in your house. “No one really knows much ‘bout you.”
“That so?” You shrug your shoulders, a relaxed smile on your face. Everything about you is ‘open,’ yet you’re closed off; not quite exactly the easiest to explain. “I’m an open book. Might as well try and see what’s inside of me, yeah?” You pause, squinting your eyes. Dorian looks off to the side. “…Not like that. I, uh, wasn’t trying to make a joke like that, sorry. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh. Yeah. Openness and whatnot— Yeah, I’m an open book.”
He grunts, keeping the conversation short. “Hard to believe. Now, go on and talk to the others. I’m sure they’d appreciate your company.”
“You don’t appreciate mine?” you question, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, man, I’m trying here. Thought we’d be good buddies with the whole wanting ‘friendship only’ kinda vibes, right? Yeah, yeah.”
“I… didn’t say that,” he says, sweating in the slightest. Your tone is always dry sometimes, even when you’re nonchalant with everything going on. He finds it hard that you’re actually as relaxed as you make yourself seem. Surely, you’ve unraveled at some point in your life, right? Then again, Dorian’s mental fortitude is perfect. “Just under the belief that if you want company, talking to the front door won’t do you any good. Try the other doors… like Closet Dorian or Little Dorian.”
“Hah.” You snort. “Yeah, can’t really imagine a little you running around.”
“…Please don’t sound too entertained by the thought.”
“Hm? No, never.”
He rolls his eyes in good nature. “See you later, human.”
You watch him disappear, reverting to his original form. For a second, you linger around, holding your chin as you wonder about the various forms of Dorian. There’s Closet Dorian, Bathroom Dorian, Gymnasium Dorian—there are a lot of Dorians, now that you’re thinking about it. None of which interests you, but a good friend is still a good friend.
Maybe you should explore the other versions of him first.
Ah, you think to yourself, not like that.
After that, you take off the glasses to give yourself a small break.
Now, Dorian is left to stare at you walking away while rubbing your temples as though you’d been given a headache from all of this. He has many perspectives on you, just because of how many doors are in the house, but he’s not too sure which one to rely on for the time being. You’re easy to get along with, given how many of the objects are catering towards you at the moment, but you’re a good listener—it makes things easier to just talk without worrying.
He doesn’t do the talking mainly, but he finds himself talking more. Just because you listen, you don’t talk or give much input, and he knows the other Dorian guarding the laundry room feels pity for your soul. After all, you’re always getting dragged into Harper and Dirk’s mess. At some point, it’s just better to separate the two, not that he’d say anything on the matter. But he’s seen the jealous quarrels of hate and love; this feels like one of them.
Regardless, he keeps his comments to himself. No reason to keep these thoughts if no one’s around to listen, and he doesn’t see a reason to say them aloud.
Then he sees you nearly dropping a mug with as much grace as a baby deer trying to walk. He decides that, yeah, you’re a strange individual, and not one anyone knows much of.