Chapter Text
You're not sure what actually makes you realize it, but one day you realize that neither Sun nor Moon has ever used your given name to address you. You're not sure you've heard them say it even once. Suddenly something you had taken no notice of is taking up significant portion of your thoughts. You can't help that you start paying closer attention to what they call you and how they talk to you.
They call you plaything. Or doll. It might not make you so uncomfortable if they said it differently. Maybe. As it stands, they never use your name and only ever use those nicknames. Pretty thing, pretty pretty, doll, doll face, plaything, pet. You hate that one. They say it all with sickly sweet condescension. They talk to you like people talk to their dogs. They don't even talk to the kids like that. Sure, they baby talk the kids, exaggerate their tone, their reactions, but it's genuine, enthusiastic. It's the way people who are good with kids talk to them. Exaggerated but real. With you it's just as if…… You’re not really sure to be honest. Something about feels so surface level lately, like there's nothing behind what they say. It's everything from how they stand when they talk to you to how they actually say their words. Looming over you, patting you on the head, drawing out their words, talking so slowly. They treat you more like a child than the actual children they look after. It's humiliating. It makes you feel so stupid, so inept, small and dumb and meaningless and and- It's a feeling you haven’t had since before high school. Since before you met your friends. It doesn't make sense and it shouldn’t make you feel this way. You’ve tried explaining it to your friends. Without mentioning the magnitude of what it makes you feel of course. But they don't get it, they think it's stupid you care what some "robots" think of you at all. And it is stupid, but you do care. It's not their fault anyway. Probably just some code, they aren’t doing it on purpose, they don't understand, how could they? It doesn't make the terrible empty feeling stop growing though.
You’ve been pushing the whole “Sun and Moon only think of you like a toy they get to play with” thing down for a while now. It's not easy per say but it helps that they don't use people’s given names very often, not when they can help it anyway. It helps you think that maybe it really doesn't mean anything, that's it not just you. The kids they mostly call “friends'' or some iteration of that. Which is a whole other layer to the doll problem. Because they won’t even call you that. Not a “pal,” not a “buddy,” nothing. And like. What? You're not their friend? They've never said you weren’t, but then. They’ve never said you were either. Fuck. Oh my god. Are you not good enough to make friends with the robot that's literally made to be friends with everyone? Ok ok, don't think about it. You cannot start spiraling at work. Everything is fine. It's fine.
“Hey, doll face,” Moon calls from a ways off “come help us set up for nap time.”
There are several kids around Moon with pillows and toys spilling out of their arms. You smile as wide as you can, squinting your eyes on purpose as you walk over.
“Alight little stars, let's get everything nice and cozy for a nice naptime.” Moon shoos the children towards the nap area with his words.
It's fine. You’re always making a big deal about nothing. So what? You're not a star? That makes sense, superstars are the Plex’s patrons after all. You just work here. You just work here. You're just….a thing. Pretty enough but meaningless. You're just a thing they work with.
The lights go out and you don't even remember setting up for naptime or how long you’ve been sitting at the security desk. You look out onto the daycare floor. There's the weirdest sensation that your eyes are behind your head when you move your neck, like they aren’t in sync. You zoned out bad you realize. Sun and Moon are both sitting near the nap area. Cross legged on the floor, talking. They don't need you. They can handle the kids sleeping on their own. You turn your head back to the wall you had been accidentally fixated on. It's the bulletin board of kid’s drawings. You try not to burst into tears as you scan over them all. Not a single one has your name on it. Oh, you're in them alright, there are a couple dozen of you after all, even more with you standing beside Sun and Moon. The problem is the ones that have the subjects labeled with their names all have you labeled as “Mx. Pretty” and “Mx. Doll.” None of the kids even know your name.
It’s not on purpose. Well it is cause you called off, but. It wasn’t like a plan. After naptime yesterday you had just felt so overwhelmed. By the time you were able to leave for the day and actually have your little breakdown, you couldn’t. Holding it in for so long had been emotionally exhausting. And after holding it in for so long, well, it was hard to let it out again. You were too good at bottling up your emotions. And all this over stupid nicknames? Nicknames? Wow, overdramatic much? It was no big deal. No big deal. So what if you needed a day to just be away. To be by yourself. Decompress. That was fine. Everyone needed a little alone time now and then. Veg time. So that's what you would do, veg out on the couch and just not. think. about it. Who cared if a few kids you saw nearly every day didn’t know your name? It's not like Sun and Moon didn’t know your name. Right?
You are not reenergized the way you thought you’d be. Coming into work on Monday is worse than usual. You're still tired, still don’t feel good. Anxiety is making your stomach twist and while you know you're anxious you can’t feel it? It's like your emotions are turned off. Or separate from you. Is this what an out of body experience is like? Cause it's really underwhelming. And kind of uncomfortable. You know something’s wrong, it's not the normal level of anxiety you usually deal with. Everything just feels wrong, but you can’t call off again. Even if the closing manager you had talked to on Friday had been very understanding.
“Yeah I saw you leave, you looked pretty out of it. If you're coming down with something we don't want you to give it to kids after all.”
Kind of embarrassing to know that you looked as bad as you felt but it doesn’t really matter. You have a job to do and you need to get paid. So you try to psych yourself up instead. New day. New week. Just gotta get through today and the day after and the day after and the day after until you die. No!! Not like that! Just get through today and go to sleep tonight and get over yourself and everything will be fine! This isn’t about you. You have to go to work. You are in control. You're fine, everything is fine. Just go to work and don't act like a weirdo. Just get through today and everything will be fine.
That's what you tell yourself all the way into the locker rooms and then to the daycare. “Just get through today and everything will be fine. Everything will be normal tomorrow.” Of course, you’ve forgotten a very important part of pretending everything is fine and normal and that you didn't break character and go off script. Well, two very important parts, as the case may be. Because when you open the employee entrance at the side of the daycare your vision is completely filled with blue and yellow. Sun and Moon are taking up the whole doorway, nearly wedged into the frame.
“Doll!” They cry in unison. “It's good to have you back!” “You didn't tell us you were gonna be gone!” Sun and Moon follow up respectively.
Doll. Doll doll doll. Always a doll to them. The knots in your stomach tighten and your mouth goes dry. The feeling of being pulled away from your body and into yourself grows. What's wrong with you?
“Doll? Are you okay?” Sun is doing that thing he does. Read: not touching you. He’s got his hands up like he's going to pat your shoulder or put a hand on your face but he won’t. They hug you and pick you up and pull you by the hand and pat your head and call you a “good little pet” but they don't casually touch you. It's always to move you, make you do something, part of a game. Just a thing they can pick up and drop and leave behind when you get boring and can’t keep up.
You breathe in suddenly and too deeply. Were you holding your breath? The breath forces your head back and you rock, full bodied with the movement. You can’t look at them right now. Can’t deal with your stupid head making everything stupid like it always does. So, you slip between the two and toss over what you hope is a sufficient reply.
“Yeah! I'm great! Had to sleep off a head cold, I'm fine now! Let's get started, shall we?”
It's probably not good enough, cause nothing you do ever is, but it doesn’t really matter then, does it? You can only do so much, handle so much. You're only a thing after all. A doll. Just get through today and everything will be fine. You can have a breakdown by yourself after work. Right now? Right now it's show time. So you stretch your lips and squint your eyes and whirl around to face the daycare attendants with hands spread at the sides of your face.
“So!? Shall we get ready for another faz-tastic day?!”