“…So, you really are just going to leave like this? Sneaking out of here while I’m asleep, not even bothering to say goodbye?”

Yellow jumped at his voice, his hand flinching away from the doorknob as though it were a hot stove. He spun on his heel to face him, throwing on a wide grin in the face of Otto’s exhausted frown. It was mechanical. It was automatic. It was fake. It was the way they were all programmed to smile when a customer approached one of their stands. It was not the way they were supposed to smile at each other.

“Hey…! Hey, big guy,” Yellow chuckled. His tail started to twitch nervously. Otto could hear it every time it hit the door. “Thought you were still asleep…! Didn’t wanna wake ya, ya know?” His voice droned out as Otto’s focus drifted elsewhere. There was no need to listen; just some dishonest string of apologies and excuses as always. Otto had long since lost the need to actually pay attention to the scripts that Yellow recited, and found a far better use of his time in simply looking his old friend over. Unimpaired for once, while his hands were too distracted by his own speech and by waving to and fro to remember to cross their arms and hide his body.

*He has lost weight.*

*He is sweating.*

*His eyes are bloodshot. He is exhausted.*

*He must have gotten back up after I fell asleep last night.*

*He can’t hold still. He can’t stop fidgeting. He’s strung out.*

*Even half asleep, I kept feeling him twitch last night.*

*He has been pulling out his feathers again, just like he did after we first lost Sp—*

“—so.” Otto blinked, refocusing his attention properly on Yellow’s voice when it started to quiet down. That was usually the signal that he was wrapping up and it was time to tune back in. “…yeah! I uhh…well, you know! Got work! Haha…! And-and quite a hike back home, so!…I was gonna head out…”

Otto’s frown darkened into a glare. He could tell that Yellow could feel it, even from all the way across the poorly lit room.

*And now he is lying to me about the obvious.*

*Lying to me. Telling me that everything is fine.*

*Like I am some sort of idiot. Like I don’t know what’s going on.*

*Giving me fake words and fake smiles. As if I am just some random customer he’s trying to scam.*

*Just like him.*

Otto felt something in his mind shift. Loudly. He could almost hear the lock inside of his mind break open the very moment he finally allowed himself to have that thought. One that he had skirted and danced around for ages, one that was constantly festering on the back of his tongue and in the pit of his stomach but only now did he finally allow it out of its cage.

*Yellow is just like him.*

Otto swallowed hard against the bile in his throat, feeling as his heart darkened and his thoughts grew cold. He finally replied, his voice coming out low and gravely. “…you told me last night that you lost your job.”

Yellow’s face went blank. “…I did?”

Concern immediately pinged at his instincts through the haze and Otto frowned, his thoughts clearing for a moment and focus sharpening from those words.

Yellow sounded…genuinely confused. Baffled, even. So much so that he had expressed it openly, unable to take a moment to try and fabricate a lie or explanation to wave it all away. His eyes were wide like a deer in headlights as his brain was clearly struggling to catch up, jaw slack and no words coming out.

*He really does not remember. At all.*

*And…if he doesn’t remember telling me that…if he doesn’t even remember disclosing such a huge and guarded secret like that, then…*

*…does he remember anything at all?*

*Did he…black out the entire evening?*

*…Angel above. How much did he drink…?*

Finally Yellow shook his head, throwing up his hands with an anxious laugh. “O-oh…! Right! Right…well, hey, forget about it! It’s—it’s no big deal!” Otto’s concern was once again smothered beneath the waves of his irritation, his eyes narrowing as he watched Yellow trying to get away from him as fast as possible.

“But, we’ll hang out again soon. Okay man?”

*He’s lying to me.*

“Everything is fine!”

*Everything is not fine.*

“Everything’s gonna be just fine, ya hear?”

*He’s lying to me. Everything is not going to be fine. Nothing was ever fine again after he left.*

“I’ll hit you up next time I’m in town.”

*He never came back.*

“I’ll see you later.”

*You are just. Like. Him.*

And just like him, Yellow turned around and opened the door and then he was gone, leaving Otto with nothing but a pit in his chest and a mess to clean up.

The edges of his vision seemed to blur along with his thoughts as he tried to compose himself, huffing a loud sigh of annoyance as he marched back to the kitchen. There were empty bottles littered all over the counters, evidence that he had indeed been correct about Yellow waking up after he himself had fallen asleep and getting out of bed. Apparently to help himself to Otto’s cabinets and drink down every last drop of alcohol he had been able to find. Otto sighed deeply as he started to gather the empty glasses, his thoughts dark and cold behind his eyes.

*Just like him.*

*Just like him.*

*He is JUST like him.*

*He is—*

He suddenly froze, realization shooting down his spine like electricity and setting each and every one of his nerves on fire.

*He is…just like him.*

Otto’s arms started to shake, the glass of the empty liquor bottles clattering noisily together as they trembled along with him. His feathers all shivered and stood on end.

*Yellow…is just like him…*

His throat went tight. He stopped breathing.

*Yellow is just like Spamton.*

His heartbeat pounded against his ears. The backs of his eyes began to burn.

*Yellow is JUST like Spamton.*

*So…why…*

Why.

Are.

You.

LETTING.

HIM.

LEAVE?!

Otto dropped everything he was holding at once, deaf to the sharp jarring noise as he desperately fumbled for his keys. He did not even bother to close his apartment door behind him as he shoved himself through it, letting it slam against the wall loud enough to echo throughout the entire building and surely wake up several of his neighbors. He was tripping over his own feet as he ran, nearly falling down the stairs as he descended them with his head still screaming.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!

WHY ARE YOU LETTING HIM LEAVE?!?

“No, no, no, no no no no no—“ The word tumbled breathlessly from his lips as he sprinted, his vision tunneling for the front door. Tears and sweat filled his eyes.

IF YOU LET HIM LEAVE YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO SEE HIM AGAIN.

DON’T LET HIM LEAVE.

GO GET HIM.

GO GET YOUR FRIEND YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!

((alright…you guys said you wouldn’t mind if I started sharing some of my Addison fanfics on here, so I’m gonna try and be brave and actually do it. I’ve written so many stories about these dumb ad birds that I love, and I think it could be really fun to finally publish them….))

((this seems like a good one to start with, especially to get the explanation out of the way for why my Orange Addison is the only one of them besides Spamton to have a “real” name, since it’s a question that comes up often whenever I include him in things))

((young Addispam, trans Spamton headcanon, heartfelt Orange Addison supportive friendship stuff 🤍🧡🤍🧡))

————————

The night air was still and quiet around him from where he sat alone on the small staircase of his apartment building, the silence interrupted only by the rhythmic scratching of his pen as he scribbled words and drawings into the pages of his sketchbook. One by one his neighbors were heading to sleep, the lights flicking off in each of the windows stretched out above him. It should have been some indicator for him of his own need to rest, but he was far too engrossed in the black inked lines his hands were currently creating.

Besides, he liked the nighttime. It was peaceful. It was a time when it was so much less likely for anyone to interrupt and bother him…

Absorbed as he was in his sketchbook, he didn’t notice Orange approaching until the other was right behind him, a startled yelp cracking in his throat when he leaned down to touch his shoulder.

“Sh—sh—sh—shi—[SHE SELLS SEA SHELLS], man!!” he stammered, his white feathers puffed all the way out in surprise. Orange tilted his head, chuckling softly while the smaller of the two grumbled and started trying to smooth back down his plumes. “What’re…what’re…what….wh-what’re you even doin’ out here this late??”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Orange replied, taking a seat next to him on the stoop. He scrambled to quickly close his sketchbook, holding it to his chest and turning away as he muttered back.

“Just…just havin’ a little [Feel The Breeze!]. Who cares?”

Orange hummed. “Suppose I do, or I wouldn’t have asked.” He propped an elbow against his knee, casually letting his head lean into it as he watched the other still fidgeting around anxiously. “…is everything okay, White?”

He almost seemed to flinch, and Orange frowned. “Y-y-y-y-yeah! Yeah!! Why wouldn’t it be??”

“You’ve seemed really distracted lately. Maybe even a little…” Orange reached his free hand over, gently poking him in the side to prove his point when the other once again yelped and flinched. “…jumpy.”

He batted Orange’s hand away, glaring back at the soft smile he was giving him. “Whatever—I’m [EVERYTHING’S FINE], alright?? Don’t—don’t—don’t even [break a sweat].”

Another hum. “I rarely do.” And yet Orange was still looking him over, as though his eyes alone could find the source of all this newfound anxiety. The little guy had always been rather high-strung, certainly the most out of any of their small group, but something lately seemed to be weighing on him. And Orange wasn’t one to let a thread go once he started pulling.

“…is it Pink? Was he picking on you again?” He turned and looked up at him, blinking with a skeptical expression. “You can tell me if he was, you know. I could talk to him for you—“

A sound like a computer generated error message passed from his lips. “No! No, that’s not [Invalid Entry, Please Try Again].” And then he scoffed, throwing Orange a look. “A-a-and you know, [Cheeto Puffs], it d-doesn’t always [F1 FOR HELP] as much as you [thinking….] when you m-make me out like I’m a—I’m a narc.”

“Hm. Noted.” Silence fell between them for a bit then, Orange still watching him and him still stubbornly looking away. “…you know I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, right?”

He grumbled. “…yeah, I know.”

“Come on, White. Just tell me.”

His shoulders shrugged up like he was trying to hide, his body language closed off and trying to make himself as small as possible. A few long moments passed, and then finally he spoke.

“What if…” He swallowed hard, a vulnerable sort of nervousness behind his voice that Orange hadn’t heard before. “…what if I…wh…what if I…didn’t want to be called ‘White’ anymore…?”

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