It was another evening following the status quo of Knife sneaking into Pickle's room to hang out for a few hours. The change of pace over the past months was very welcome, especially in comparison to the state of things before they'd begun spending time together again. This time around they decided to take a break from playing games to watch a movie. A horror movie in particular.

"Pretty risky choosing a horror movie when I'm definitely not supposed to be here." Knife chimed as Pickle put the movie on.

"Oh please, It won't be scary enough to make you scream. Well, I mean, OJ had to make Salt and Pepper stop watching it because they kept screaming, but, like…"

"They're them?"

"Yeah, that." Pickle smirked, joining Knife on the edge of the bed as he used the remote to play the movie.

He ended up being right, the movie was awful. It was predictable and was only considered a horror movie because of the jump scares and blood. It was still the kind of bad movie that was fun to watch ironically, so it wasn't all bad. Once it progressed to a scene where the murderer held a knife above one of the protagonists, Pickle smirked and looked over at Knife.

"You know, knives aren't that scary..." he joked, winking at Knife and elbowing him gently. Knife snorted and leaned into his hand, Pickle smiling for having made him laugh.

No longer paying attention to the movie, a loud and sudden scream from the movie's protagonist made them both jump and gasp.

"Come on , the only time we actually get scared is when we aren't even looking?!" Knife complained with a grin. Pickle hesitated to reply, seemingly distracted by something. Knife hadn't even noticed; Pickle had grabbed his hand when they had jumped.

"Yeah, that's... pretty lame." Pickle eventually replied.

Pickle still hadn't let go. Knife felt his face become warm and hoped it wasn't visible in the room lit by nothing but the sun that had almost set and the television screen.

Knife decided not to say anything about it unless Pickle did. He held hope that he wouldn't let go, and for once, didn't try to convince himself he felt otherwise. Struggling to pay attention to the movie, Knife gathered his courage and eventually interlaced their fingers. He gave a careful glance at Pickle to see his reaction, but couldn't see him entirely in the dark.

He couldn't help but begin worrying that Pickle didn't want to hold hands but didn't want to upset him. He felt embarrassed by how intimate small things like holding hands was to him, and felt like it was really stupid he couldn't just watch the damn movie instead of-!

His thoughts were interrupted by Pickle rubbing his thumb over the side of Knife's hand. It felt so natural, like he'd done it a hundred times before. Like it… wasn't weird. Knife felt that was a pretty convincing argument to stop worrying about the situation.

They held hands for what remained of the movie, eventually making commentary and jokes like they were before. Out of fear or because questioning it would make it harder to believe, they didn't bring it up once the movie had finished, eventually letting go of each other's hands without a word.

"...That movie sucked. Sorry for making you watch that." Pickle apologized.

"I had a pretty good time making fun of it." Knife replied, smiling sweetly.

"Hah, well, yeah, making fun of bad movies is pretty fun, I guess."

There were a few moments of silence as Pickle got up to put the movie's disc back in its case.

"Well, it's pretty late now, so, if you wanted to..." Pickle cut himself off mid-sentence, biting his lip.

"...hey, Knife?"

"Hm?"

Pickle hesitated. It felt like now was a good time to try and be honest with Knife.

"...Thanks for all the time you've spent hanging out with me, and for opening up to me so much. I know you aren't the best with that, so I'm… glad I could be an exception."

Knife's face flushed.

"I was...really happy when we started hanging out again, and I'm still really happy every time we do. You mean a lot to me, Knife."

He finally looked at Knife.

"Thanks."

After a moment of staring that felt like an eternity, Knife stuttered, "N-no problem! I mean, you mean a lot to me too! I-I love you,"

Pickle felt his heart skip a beat. Knife panicked and instinctively tried to back out of being too sincere.

"...you're my best friend."

Pickle paused before replying. Something didn't feel right about that sentiment.

"That's really sweet of you, Knife... I love you too."

Pickle watched Knife's expression change. He looked surprised, but he kept from making eye contact.

Knife moved his gaze to his and Pickle's hands, still sitting on the bed. They were close enough to touch again.

He looked up at Pickle, and they just stared at each other. Neither of them started talking again or started another movie or started doing something normal, but were getting close to not minding.

Knife changed the position of his legs from hanging off of the edge of the bed to laying by his side to face Pickle.

Pickle slowly lifted his hand to the side of Knife's blade. It was dull, and didn't hurt his hand to hold. Pickle slowly ran his hand down his blade as Knife made a valiant effort to steady his breathing. Pickle started to move his other hand towards Knife's cheek, which he noticed hurt more than holding his blade. He'd begun blushing hard, making the surface warm.

"Knife," Pickle said gently.

Knife reciprocated the contact and moved his hands to cradle the hand Pickle held on his cheek. Pickle's hands moved, one sliding down to the back of Knife's tang, his other on the back of his blade. He fluttered his eyes closed and he started to lean in towards Knife.

It's too much.

I don't deserve him. I don't deserve this to be so easy.

I need to back out, or I'll regret it. I always do.

Suddenly, Knife pulled away and let him go.

"Um, hey. I've gotta go."

Pickle didn't expect... that. He thought they were going to…

"Oh, um…?"

"You know, um, it is getting late. Well, um, goodbye." Knife stammered as he stumbled over to the window and opened it quickly. He started climbing out before Pickle could even process what was happening.

Pickle came to his senses and ran towards the window, looking out at Knife already letting go from the window closest to the ground and jogging towards the forest.

Pickle clung to his windowsill and stared out, trying desperately to understand what just happened. Things must've been moving too quickly, or he'd misinterpreted things, but he knew that Knife's excuse had to be a lie. He didn't have anywhere to be but away from him.

He began walking out of his room and towards the stairs of the hotel without thinking. He made his way down the stairs, through the lobby, and out the doors, ignoring whoever was sat on the couch that watched him rush out. He hurried towards the part of the forest that his window faced. He went through what he hoped was how they got to their usual picnic spot, though he was uncertain if he was heading in the right direction as not only was it dark out, but Knife usually led the way.

Eventually, Pickle came to a break in the trees, having found their picnic spot, but with Knife nowhere in sight.

He looked around, his emotions welling up. He hoped for the best but still thought of the worst reasons as to why Knife would leave in the middle of a moment like that. He was terrified that this was it, that he'd messed up too badly and that Knife would never want to see him again, and that he wouldn't get an answer as to why beyond the guesses he could make from how he left.

He could feel himself on the brink of tears. He didn't want this to happen again.

"Pickle?"

Knife cautiously walked towards him from the trees.

As much as seeing Knife brought him some sort of relief, it also quickly brought him to his senses.

"Oh, oh my god. I shouldn't have followed you. Sorry, I just… you obviously wanted to be alone, I'm sorry. I'll go."

Pickle turned to leave but was stopped by Knife putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that." Knife apologized.

"Hey, it's fine, I get it if you didn't want to, uh..."

"No! No, I really did. I do."

Pickle looked up at Knife.

"You do?"

Knife nodded quickly, now making eye contact.

"Why'd you leave?"

"I'm not used to… this. I didn't… I didn't think I was this not used to it though." Knife looked miserable, and began lowering to sit down. Pickle joined him.

"It's really okay Knife, you can take all the time you need, you know."

"I've taken more time than I need! I want to be used to this, no matter how…"

Knife sighed, lowering his gaze to his lap.

"But this is still the hardest thing I've ever had to do," he said, voice cracking at the end of the phrase.

Pickle found himself remembering how long Knife had been pretending to be a tough guy. Too cool to talk about his feelings, too cool for an intimate moment. But it wasn't like that now, was it?

"I get it. It's not easy talking about feelings and stuff. For anyone, I don't think."

"Yeah, it's just… I've spent a lot of time being ashamed I was feeling… at all." Knife admitted softly.

Pickle stifled a longing to spew reassurances that Knife never needed to be ashamed of feeling, or how much he hated the thought of him living that way for so long. He knew a thing or two about loathing, and the thought of Knife going through anything even remotely similar made him ache. But he figured that Knife may already know some version of that speech, and he'd already come up with an idea he hoped was better.

"You know how when you talked to me on the couch? When OJ was hosting II?" Pickle asked.

Knife looked up from his lap, nodding.

"Well, you gave me some pretty good advice, and you were saying it like it was advice for the video game. But it was pretty obvious you were trying to help me out with... with life, yeah?"

Knife nodded again.

"Maybe you could do that again? Try talking about this whole situation like it's something easier to talk about."

Knife thought over the suggestion for a moment. "I could try..."

Pickle sat patiently as Knife took a moment to think of what to say.

"It's like I've been... playing a game for a long time in a certain way, and now I've realized that there's a different, better way to be playing it. But... I've been playing the old way for such a long time that even though I know playing differently would be better, it's really hard."

He paused, looking to check that Pickle understood. Pickle nodded gently, so he continued.

"I'm always trying to play in the different, better way, but... every time I have to do something different I have to put in a lot of effort. And... right now it's like I'm playing an entirely different game than before."

The realization of how new this all was for Knife began sinking in for Pickle as he continued listening.

"...and I know I like playing this way more than the old way I was playing, but that doesn't make it any easier to change. I still want to try right now though, I might just... need a little help."

Pickle put a hand on Knife's shoulder gently.

"...I wouldn't mind doing that. I could try to make things easier, the best I can." Pickle smiled.

Knife hesitated for a moment, but smiled back at him. His expression quickly changed to confusion as Pickle turned to face him.

Pickle took a deep breath.

"Knife, I'm- I've, felt, uh," he stuttered in an attempt to form a confession, but eventually gave up, lowering his head into his palms with a groan.

"It's hard, huh?" Knife chuckled, giving Pickle a light pat on the shoulder.

"It's SO hard! I was so right! You were right." Pickle laughed into his hands. "I feel like we're on the same page but... god, it's hard."

"...Then maybe we don't need words." Knife said, easing his laughter. "Just for right now."

All of Pickle's luck in understanding Knife conveniently ran thin. Knife's mouth moved as though he were about to say something, but he bit his lip as he stopped himself.

Instead, he gently put his hand on Pickle's cheek, prompting a soft “oh”. Soft enough that only they could hear.

And it was just them, no one to judge them, no one to remember the moment but them. There was a wordless understanding that they'd run out of good reasons this moment couldn't be theirs, so Pickle leaned in again, and Knife met him halfway.

They kissed for just a few moments. Pickle thought Knife's face felt like a warm frying pan, the thought of where one would usually be filling him with a familiar fondness he felt when imagining a domestic life with Knife after the stupid show that kept him from doing this sooner was over. The thought made him smile into the kiss, but he figured he would've done so without thinking anyways.

After pulling back, Pickle, despite smiling himself, was almost surprised to see Knife beaming, nearly crying.

"Hey," Pickle breathed, placing his hand on top of Knife's.

Knife chuckled nervously, clearly processing a myriad of emotions.

Pickle smiled, interlacing their fingers. After waiting a few moments, he began, "Do you want to-"

Knife cut him off with the press of his lips, catching Pickle off guard, though he didn't mind getting the answer to his question early.

The kiss was as gentle and simple as the first, anything more conceivably being overwhelming, but with an underlying warmth and excitement for having found the opportunity for something so intimate.

When they pulled away again, they both just smiled and held each other, basking in the revelation of affection being returned.

"I could get used to this." Pickle said softly, breaking the silence.

"You think?" Knife asked fondly.

"Yeah! I love it when you're sincere… makes me feel so special. Like when we're alone you're really yourself, how you'd be when you're alone, but I'm there too, and it just feels so intimate… I don't know, I'm just rambling."

Knife chuckled. "You always make me feel special."

"Aww. You do too, it's just been so nice seeing you like this."

Pickle raised his hand that held Knife's to press a kiss to it, making him giggle.

"Like that!" Pickle said with a laugh. "It feels so right, letting yourself be sweet, you know?"

"I think I'm starting to feel like it's right." Knife smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."