Attempts

“Ouch,” Sylvester hisses, retracting his hand in surprise. His wiring certainly knew how to give him a nasty shock, seeing as this was the 9th time it’s gotten him. Irritating little thing. He shoves himself away from his table, rubbing his sunken eyes. He wasn’t even sure what the point of what he was making was. All he knew was the lightbulb should light up when connected to power. Sylvester had taken refuge at Escalator Whale; daytime nighttime cafe, for the past 7 hours. He quite frankly didn’t even know what time it was. It was definitely late, he can still understand the concept of the sun going down. That hasn’t changed. Every couple of hours, he’d get up and order another hot chocolate with a shot of vanilla and whipped cream, then he would go and cover the top in nutmeg until he couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore. Think they had to refill it thanks to him. “This spot taken?” A hand holding a cup had placed itself onto the opposite end of his table, causing Sylvester to jump. It wasn’t the action that startled him, however. It’s who the voice belonged to. “John?” Sylvester cleared his throat, fitting his glasses into their correct place above his nose. “Is it?” He gestured again, his demeanor was friendly yet you could tell he hadn’t slept much. Sporting a hoodie underneath his Orange Lock uniform that Sylvester was a bit too accustomed to. “No,” Sylvester swept his arms around his mess on the table and held it close to his chest, hunching over to protect it as he watched John sit down, placing his chin on his hand. The two held a one sidedly uncomfortable eye contact. “Whatcha making bud,” John’s eye flickered down to the amalgamation of wires and circuit boards. “Don’t call me ‘bud’,” Sylvester had remarked with zero hesitation. He stared blankly at John, not quite sure what to feel, what thought to focus on. “Alright,” John took a sip from his drink, “my bad.” “No,” Sylvester took off his glasses to firmly hide his face, “sorry. I can’t focus. I forget you two look so alike. It’s really hard to just… jump into casual conversation.” “Take your time,” Sylvester couldn’t see his new companion’s surprise. Admittedly, they were both hiding their expressions. Sylvester behind his hands and John behind his cup. Sylvester sprung back up in an instant, sitting upright so fast he forgot how small John was compared to him. He slid out the wires, presenting them to the one person he knew would be impressed he was attempting this. “I-I found some stuff at this weird store,” he wasn’t thinking, just acting purely on impulse, “and I thought that maybe I could make somethin’ real cool someday. Of course I know you can’t quite jump into it, ya always gotta ease into it. So,” he holds up the lightbulb in one hand, a goofy lopsided smile spread across his face, “I wanted t’ light this ‘ere bulb up.” He watched as the other man's eyebrows slowly turned into arches. John nodded his head and took the wires and such into his own hands. Studying each and every piece of this attempt at electrical engineering? Robotics? Tinkering. “Exposed wire here, you should never touch an exposed wire or work with them,” John pointed at a frayed part, “I’m just disconnecting this from the battery for safety.” “Oh yeah,” Sylvester laughed, “I thought I could twist the wire part back into themselves to make ‘em whole again.” John stared up at Sylvester wide eyed and back down at the fray. “Sylvester, have you been touching this with your bare hands?” “H-hey don’t say it like that,” nervously he held onto his own arms, beginning to scratch and itch, “I just thought if it was down to the wire not making this thing work, I could fix the wire!” “That’s just not sa-“ “Please,” Sylvester dug his nails into his sleeves, “don’t raise your voice at me.” John could read the visible discomfort with ease, he just didn’t enjoy having to comfort someone. Letting out a sigh, he set down the creation and looked up at Sylvester, keeping a cool head. “I am just concerned about your safety. This is a hazard to your well being which is obviously a problem. I’m not mad if you’ve been touching this with your bare hands, I’m only trying to keep you safe and healthy.” John’s face was soft and caring. Sylvester couldn’t help but stare for a moment too long. Good lord he needed to pick up one of those dating apps, this is getting ridiculous. “Thanks, John.” Sylvester sunk back down into a slight hunch. It was more comfortable for him this way. He was comfortable. He was cared about. “Can,” he leaned in a little bit, fingers tapping along the table, “can you tell me why else it wouldn’t be working. ‘Fraid I-I’ve been so damn focused on the wire the tunnel vision’s making it hard to focus on much else.” John faintly smiled before he realized that he had to return to viewing the mess of wires and boards. “What exactly,” he traced the connections from a battery to a lightbulb as if it were a maze, “are you trying to do?” “Make the light bulb light up!” Sylvester cheered. “Oh,” John blinked, “well what’s with the board then?” “I dunno! Thought they were important, every machine has ‘em,” Sylvester shrugged, “I haven’t been drawin’ those for years for nothin’.” “I mean I guess? It looks like you somehow managed to stumble your way into making a working circuit. I have no idea how but good job.” If John looked up, he would simply be blinded by Sylvester beaming brighter than the sun. Then he stops. “Wait, what about the bulb? If it’s all workin’ then the light should be… lightin’.” It doesn’t take John any brain power to immediately understand what’s wrong. Bulb in one hand, his other stroking his chin. With a snap of his fingers, he handed the bulb back to Sylvester. “Bad bulb, burnt out.” In an instant, every ounce of joy and hope and determination was bled dry from Sylvester’s person. The hours he spent were all for nothing. All he could do was stare. “Sylvester?” And promptly slam headfirst into the table.