Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Four is going on a power trip. That’s Clock’s running theory, anyway.

Against any and all common sense, he began to worry when the flood of letters from Four and X came to an abrupt stop for a month and a half. Usually he gets a hefty stack every few hours, and most of his time in Two’s pocket dimension is spent responding to them. If nothing else, it helps to stave off the boredom of having nothing to do.

(It helps him bury his guilt about everything that happened with Winner, if only for a moment.)

But the lack of letters was fine. It was growing stressful trying to figure out proper, worthwhile responses to them that wouldn’t cause Four to claw his way into Two’s pocket dimension and eviscerate him, leaving him to be forgotten. Again. He doesn’t know how Gaty can be friends with Two without being afraid. Afraid is all Clock can ever be.

So he actually talked to people. Cake, mostly. He was nice for that. Apologetic and approachable and unjudging. He could try to talk to Eggy and Coiny… but it was obvious they didn’t really care about him. Some things never changed, he supposed. Especially since Pin had just shown up. Today, as a matter of fact, not that he cared much. Yet another one of his former teammates. Someone he couldn’t build up the courage to talk to.

Just Pin. No one else. He finds himself more and more unnerved by that with every passing day, considering that Eraser was the latest elimination second only to Pin. According to him, Gaty was supposed to be eliminated, but her absence was conspicuous in a different way. If Two was anything like Four and X, they won’t let go of the things they care about. Clock feels like he’s being suffocated by Four and X, and they aren’t even fucking here, so that’s about how that’s going for him.

Bomby, Bell, Barf Bag, and Needle were all missing. Not to sound too heartless, but the only person he really cared about was- No, not cared. In a sense, he cared about all four of them being gone, because if anything happened to Winner- He can’t think about it. He’s just worried about Needle. Yet another one of his former teammates that he fantasizes about talking to, the various fantasies situated right between ones of Winner. The contents are different for obvious reasons.

He resents Two for sending him here, even if that meant he would have to stay in the kitchen with an increasingly clingy Four and X. Because here, he’s completely clueless about everything happening in the outside world. That long span of seemingly no eliminations, Four and X’s letters being the only reassurance that the competition was even happening, was torture. They’re all just sitting, clueless ducks now that they’re stuck here. It’s unbearable.

So many people are missing, and the number only increases by the day. Pin says that Basketball and Robot Flower had been eliminated before her, but she wasn’t surprised by their absence. “Things were kinda complicated when they were eliminated,” she had explained, nose wrinkled.

If Clock had looked her in the eye as she spoke, he could delude himself into thinking that she was talking to him. Would be the first time in a while, because things had been awkward after he had been brought back. His fury was loud and explosive, and after chewing his team out, he had avoided them for the rest of the competition. No one made any effort to talk to him. He supposes it was too awkward? He can’t tell if being talked to would have made things better or worse.

The time after being brought back to the split had been the worst time of his life. He grew fearful of things he had never even thought about before. Being forgotten wore on him, pressing on him like he was carrying the weight of the world. In that vein, he grew fearful of elimination too, because who actually thought about someone after they were eliminated? Out of sight, out of mind. He was scared of Four and his cruelty, he was scared of his team never thinking of him the moment he left their sight, he was scared of all of it. Sometimes he felt like his fear was all that kept him alive, considering he never said a word to anyone else.

When elimination had finally happened to him, though, he had felt numb. He had screwed everything up with Winner. He hadn’t been able to prove his worth. Everything was miserable and he couldn’t stand it. He had been eliminated, and at least it was finally over.

(Ice Cube had looked upon him with pity and a resolute look in her eyes upon his elimination that ensured he wouldn’t be forgotten, at least not by her. That had kept him going when nothing else would. He wants to thank her when he has the chance.)

Funny, then, how elimination, something he had once feared and then had ultimately became impassive toward became something that had ended up ultimately soothing all of his fears, even if he’s not entirely sure he’s a fan of how everything ended. He doesn’t want to be entangled with Four and X. They’re just really hard to say no to.

And still, he’s made no move to change things. Dating Four and X, because that is unfortunately what it is, even if they don’t know the word, has been both restorative and painful. Painful in the sense that he doesn’t really love them and doesn’t want to be in this situation, restorative in the sense that if nothing else, he’ll never be forgotten. Four and X are immortal. They’ll live forever. He… thinks? It’s pretty unclear. Their fascination with him means that his memory will persist past death for centuries. That’s more than anyone else could do for him.

Clock is still terrified of being forgotten. That’s a fear that will never go away. But when he’s around Four and X, that fear abates, something warm and foreign settling in his chest as he leans into their touch and bathes in their words. He knows it’s ironic, because Four had been the one to kill him in the first place, not that he remembers his reason for doing so. Without Four, he wouldn’t have to deal with this debilitating fear. He wouldn’t have ruined things with Winner.

But Four loves him. Most people don’t. He can forgive a lot of things so long as he feels loved. Maybe he’s just spineless? Or maybe he’s just that desperate. It’s not exactly anything he can put into words. He doesn’t love Four and X. Is that possible? He doesn’t know if it’s about him or about them. Reciprocated love just never feels in the cards. He doesn’t want that, not with them.

That doesn’t stop the two’s affections. And he’s such a bad person that he tolerates it anyway. More than tolerates. He enjoys the attention he’s showered with to the point where he doesn’t know what he’ll do without it. He relies on it as a crutch of sorts, using it as fuel and a tool to beat back the self loathing in equal measure. The lack of letters took a weight off of him, true, but he also felt so much more isolated and forgotten than he had ever since he had been eliminated.

Pin showed up today and hadn’t left Coiny’s side since. She looked bitter, like she hadn’t wanted elimination, but she looked relieved to be with her closest friend again. Neither of them spared a single thought for their former teammate, and why would they? Not like he had a complex about being forgotten or anything…

Four and X have an agreement with Two. That’s inherent, implicit. This city is theirs, after all, and they control what comes in and out. More likely than not, they wrote the letters, shoved them at Two, and they agreed to send them Clock’s way for their good friend Four, who hated them with a fiery passion, although that was neither here nor there.

So either something had happened to Two, which feels like the sort of thing Pin would have mentioned, or Four and Two had a really bad falling out and they refuse to send his and X’s letters anymore. The latter is more likely and more solvable, but he doesn’t know how long Algebrailians can hold grudges. Probably longer than his entire lifespan, and they won’t even blink at the length.

Nothing he could do anything about either way. So he just waits. Talking to Cake instead of staying cooped up in his room all day makes him feel more like a person, although he really does feel like he’s intruding whenever Cake invites him to Goikys and Dragons with Nickel and Naily. Well, it’s less “invites” and more “brute forces” because apparently Taggy is their usual dungeon master, and they have yet to be eliminated, and none of them want to DM, so that apparently means the burden should fall on Clock. If nothing else, he’s a passable DM, and the effort to include him is… nice.

Cake had even apologized. He struggles to believe it sometimes. He had been sheepish and apologetic as he fumbled out a horribly awkward apology, and when Clock couldn’t take it anymore and exploded, yelling to him about all sorts of things whether they were his fault or not, he had just nodded, remorseful as he sat and took all of it. That had really taken the wind out of his sails.

“You’re right,” he had agreed. “We should have remembered. I really do feel awful that we forgot.” He had expected excuses or hollow apologies, but Cake had just kept his head ducked, his cheeks even more flushed than they usually were. “And after, no one had any idea how to talk to you. Me and Eggy talked about it, but everyone else… I dunno. I guess they were too close knit, there was too much baggage, whatever. And then we just never got the chance after the split. That’s not an excuse. I should have at least tried. I really am sorry.”

And then he had stared at him, so painfully earnest it had made something twist in his chest as he cleared his throat and looked away. “It’s fine, I guess,” he had mumbled. “Not like I wanted to talk to any of you anyway. But things are easier now. At least…” He had trailed off, shaking his head, deciding against saying the words that practically always rested on the tip of his tongue, words borne of frustration and bitterness. He didn’t want to watch Cake’s face fall.

Cake had just smiled tentatively, and that was the moment he resigned himself to being dragged around by the other man. The words he had bitten back come back to his mind unbidden. At least you still remember me. That remained true even now, even after Cake would be justified in turning his back on him. After all, he had already apologized, shrugging off his guilt. In that sense, he was free. He didn’t have to deal with Clock.

And still, he stayed. Maybe they were friends. Maybe not. He just hung around with Cake when he had nothing to do. With the lack of letters to respond to, he grew used to passing his days with him and his teammates from Just Not who aren’t missing or still competing.

The day Pin showed up–today, actually, not that he’s been paying attention to that or anything, obsessively monitoring each passed second with a tick of his clock hands–was the day things changed for him. He had been reading a passage from Nickel’s beat up GnD handbook that was on loan to him for as long as he served as DM. In other words, until Taggy was eliminated, but he would ignore the matter of his expendability for the time being.

As he had been awkwardly stammering through a fancifully written sentence meant to set the tone, a portal had suddenly opened next to him. Not too strange, sudden portals was how he got Four and X’s letters, although Clock had an agreement with Two to send the letters to his room, so the portal shouldn’t have been here, in the middle of a common area.

What was more alarming was a pair of spindly hands grabbing onto the edges of the portal forcing them wider. The hands were a familiar shade of blue that made him drop the book and groan. “Of course,” he had grumbled, dropping the book. By now, the three had gotten up and huddled together, their eyes wide, but he was just standing next to the portal, resigned to his fate. This happening just made sense to him, though. If Four stopped being able to get letters to him for whatever reason, why wouldn’t he claw his way into Two’s pocket dimension and get Clock himself?

Algebrailians were obsessively possessive. If Four and X had it their way, they would have never let him go. He supposes he knew that it was only a matter of time until they came back to him, even if it was a knowledge he had never quite put into words. Just as Two is surely holding onto Gaty with all they have, just as any objects who have Algebrailians who care about them will always be held close by them, Clock can never quite escape Four and X.

Four had finished making his way through the portal, jumping onto the carpet with a soft thump. His grin was wide and manic, on the verge of falling off his face. Why was the expression he made when he was happy to see Clock have to be so scary? “Clock!” he had excitedly chirped, scrambling over to him and hugging him with overwhelming strength. It was almost enough to break the screen on his clock face, but not quite. Was it weird that he was kind of honored by the effort to hold back? “Good news, me and X have decided to break you out!”

“Yeah, I figured you would, after the letters stopped,” he had grumbled in reply, kicking his legs slightly in the weight of Four’s tight grip. “Just get it over with already, then.” And then he had paused, glancing over to Cake. “Uh… I don’t think anyone will ask about me, so don’t worry about it, okay? And I’ll be fine either way. It’ll-”

He had been cut off by X reaching through the portal and dragging both him and Four through it, and he found himself yelping at the disorienting feeling. Being swiped into Two’s pocket dimension hadn’t been nearly as nauseating.

And that’s how he ended up here: in Two’s bedroom, squinting at their glassy eyes and distraught face. There wasn’t anything behind their eyes. Their face was just completely, eerily blank as they laid motionlessly in their bed. Crumpled takeout bags were scattered around their room, a few caught in the crevice between the bed’s backboard and mattress. Their eyes were technically trained on a torn photo on their nightstand, but it was obvious their mind was completely elsewhere.

Two looked depressed. No, more than that. They looked like their word had shattered like glass, and they had nothing left. As startling as it was to take it all in, Clock couldn’t help but shoot furtive glances toward Four and X. If anything ever happened to him, would they react like that?

And then he pauses, because he’s Four and X’s Gaty. That’s the only way he wants to put what he has with the two into words. He’s not their boyfriend. That implies mutual love. Not that he should assume what Two and Gaty have with each other, but- that’s not the point!

If they’re like this, does that mean something happened to her? Clock had assumed Two had kept her back after her elimination, holding onto her with tight, overwhelming strength she surely chafed at. Most people would, he assumes. Most people don’t relish in the stifling force of suffocation. But Clock likes it. It makes him feel alive. And pain reminds him of life far easier than other things might. The feeling of being dragged along by Cake to play Goikys and Dragons could never compare to the overwhelming weight of Four and X’s arms eternally wrapped around him.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with them?” he prompts, nose wrinkled. “They look… uh…” Completely despondent is the first word that comes to mind, but ultimately he settles on “...like shit.”

“You don’t need to worry about that!” Four chirps, patting him on the head as he grins widely.

“Well,” X begins, tapping his cheek even as Four glowers at him. “After Gaty was eliminated, they sent her to our kitchen.”

“Not that she could ever replace you,” Four says fiercely, and Clock finds he’s unable to fully bite back a smile as he presses himself against Four. He doesn’t mind the reassurance, that’s for sure. 

“But after the whole yoylelite time travel the world almost ended thing-”

“The what?!” Clock yelps.

“-she was nowhere to be found! And ever since then, they’ve been like this!” He pokes Two’s cheeks with both hands in a steady, uneven rhythm, but they don’t even flinch at the sharp, repetitive motion. They’re just completely unresponsive. It’s disturbing.

“Oh god. Just add her to the list of missing people, I guess,” he mumbles to himself. What the fuck is going on in the outside world? It feels like everything went to shit the moment he was eliminated. “So you two took over as hosts, then?”

“As smart as ever,” Four gushes, and Clock winces even as his cheeks flush. He loves being complemented, but he doesn’t know how to feel about the steady stream of them that always come from the two Algebrailians. He thinks he would prefer for them to be from Winner, not that he’s done anything to deserve it from them. He’s done… less than that, actually.

“We hosted today!” X says, jumping up and down as he cheers. “It was a lot of fun! And then we realized that we can do anything we want, and we wanted to bring you back since Two hasn’t been sending our letters, and it’s better to talk to you directly anyway. So we poked and prodded them until they opened a portal, and Four reached in and got you back! Yay!”

Clock can’t bite back his smile this time. It’s nice seeing two people so earnest and excited about having him here, of all people. Even after all this time, even after the letters stopped, he was never forgotten. At least he has that going for him. Why can’t he be loved by actual normal people instead of these freaks?

“So, now that you’re here, let’s make up for lost time!” Four declares, hugging him and spinning in circles. Clock yelps, kicking his legs in a panic. The spinning makes him almost as dizzy as when his clock hands are on the wrong time, something he regrets telling the two of them about. When he’s set down, he groans, trying to regain his bearings. “C’mon, let’s head down to the kitchen! You can put your chef’s hat on!”

“Well, I can go to the kitchen later,” Clock says slowly. That place might as well be a prison for all the time he spent confined within it, so he’d prefer to avoid it in the meantime. “But now that I’m back, I have some people I’d like to catch up with, if you don’t mind. Your letters were great for keeping me updated-” as if page after page of updates on X’s aloe vera was at all helpful for seeing what the hell was going on with the competition, but whatever. “-but I’d like how to see how some of my friends are doing.”

As he finishes, he balls his eyes closed preemptively, but he can’t help but tentatively open one just so he can eye Four and X. Is this it? Is this when he’ll finally screw up, souring the two Algebrailian’s favor in him in a blink of an eye? Will he be erased from existence by Four once more, doomed to be forgotten? Is this the forgettable, unceremonious ending he was always going to suffer?

Instead, they both just smile at him. They always smile at him, so wide and fond, as if he’s incapable of doing anything wrong. Are those two going to be the only people to ever smile at him like that? The thought makes him feel small.

“Sounds good!” X beams, offering him a thumbs up. “We’ll be in the kitchen, so you know where to find us! Oh, oh! Next episode you can help host, too! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

Four, meanwhile, is the more reserved of the two. “So long as you aren’t gone for too long,” he grumbles, training a glare onto him. “We should be the most important people to you, after all.”

“Uh,” he says awkwardly, glancing over to X, who just smiles. “Y-Yeah, uh, don’t worry about that. A day doesn’t go by without me thinking about either of you. There’s just a few people I want to talk to, and I’ll be right over. Okay?”

“Alrightie!” X chirps. “Oh, Four, I have an idea!” He whisks Four away, grinning widely as he leans forward to whisper something to Four, who brightens and nods. Both he and X are quick to rush off in the direction of the kitchen, giggling like school children all the while. Clock blankly stares after them, muffling a groan with his foot.

Honestly, he’s surprised that they managed to let him go that easily. He expected them to cling to him so tightly they ended up squeezing the life out of him. Maybe the time they ended up spending apart was good for them. It taught the two how to be separated from him. Maybe Gaty could have used it, too. But now she’s missing, and the two never got a chance to talk to each other. A shame. It feels like the two suddenly have a lot in common.

Biting his lip, he throws a glance at Two, who hasn’t moved at all throughout the conversation. They’ve shattered into a thousand pieces, overwhelming grief so palpable it permeates the air, making him nauseous. He doesn’t like dwelling on that feeling. He’s grieved for himself enough as is, because he knows no one else will.

How is it that things managed to end well for Four and X, the more unstable and decidedly less popular of the group of Algebrailians they’ve met, but Two is here completely destroyed by their grief? Is it about the object they chose to love, or is it about them as people?

Maybe it’s just fate. If it weren’t for Two, Clock would have remained with Four and X, the two growing clingier and obsessive with every passing day, and either he would have rotted away under that suffocation, the air forced from his lungs, or he would have found a way to survive, whether he was happy or not. By now he knows he’ll be forgotten if he dies, so he probably would have tried to live. That’s just the end of it.

“What happened to Gaty is your fault,” he whispers harshly. It doesn’t matter what he says here, because why would Two actually be listening in this moment? They’re completely unresponsive, after all. “If you had just let her go, if you had just known better than to cling, if you actually loved her-!”

And then he stops, breathing heavily as his eyes go wide. Ah. What does this mean for him, then? Four and X love him enough to give him space when he asks for it, even if he’s grown so used to existing in this state of suffocation that he barely even notices the feeling anymore. Four and X love him. He’s been… kind of trying to ignore that fact, writing it off as obsession.

But he can never truly understand the two of them. They’re just too different from each other. So who’s to say that they don’t truly love him with everything they have, something going beyond a simple interest or obsession? Who’s to say that their love wasn’t the most an Algebrailian could possibly manage? He doesn’t think he can handle that. Not when he would ever be capable of loving either of them with nearly the same force.

“Ugh, this is stupid,” he mumbles to himself, looking away from Two. Yelling at them is one thing. Staring at their blank, sightless eyes and trying to yell at them is another thing entirely. It’s like kicking a puppy, pointless and cruel. “Sorry, I guess.” Swallowing, he turns on his heel and walks out, feeling awful.

It’s not like it’s a strange thing for him to feel like that. He always feels awful, thinking back on every interaction he had with Winner and shrinking into himself as he cringes so hard he wonders if his face will split under the force of it. But this is a different sort of awful. Why the hell did he yell at Two? There was no point to that. Was he just that bad of a person?

Maybe he’s just afraid. The one other person dating an Algebrailian, was Gaty, who disappeared without a trace and left Two shattered without her. Is this truly the only path available for him to take? At least someone will be bothered by his disappearance this time. At least they’ll notice he’s even fucking gone. At least he can say that he’s loved by someone. If this is what’s destined to happen to him, at least not all of it is bad.

Still, fate is bullshit. And he’ll fight to change things so long as the option is afforded to him. He doesn’t want to be stuck with Four and X for every second of every day. He’ll do what he can to pull away for them even if it lasts just a moment, reveling in the taste of air as it fills his lungs. So long as he’s doing what he can, it’s enough, surely.

Storming through the hallway, he realizes with a start that he… doesn’t actually know where he’s going. Out of his former teammates, Winner, Yellow Face, Bottle, and Ice Cube are still in the game, if he keeps track of who’s in the elimination area and who he knows to be missing. Not a bad showing for any of them. Here’s the issue, though; he can’t talk to Winner and he doesn’t want to talk to Yellow Face, so that really just leaves Bottle and Ice Cube.

He really wants to talk to Ice Cube when he has the chance. They aren’t exactly close. If anything, he worries she sees a little too much of Book in him, sticking his foot in his mouth as he gets far too caught up in his own problems and ends up projecting them onto others. He doesn’t want to be like that. He just gets so caught up with things that he doesn’t realize what exactly he’s doing until it’s too late. It makes him feel awful, watching his own hurt warped and reflected back on Winner’s face, but he can’t exactly stop.

Hopefully Ice Cube doesn’t hate him. He’s already burnt enough bridges as is. He can’t have anything with his old team save for Cake, because they’ve probably forgotten all about how they hurt him by now. He can’t have anything with Winner, because he hurt them, wading up his own, horrible hurt and throwing it at another as if that would ever be able to make things better for him.

Either way, he doesn’t know. He’s aware of the team swap from both Eraser and Pin by now, so he’s not exactly sure where to go if he wants to find Bottle or Ice Cube. Did they end up on the same team? Pin’s frustration made it feel like she didn’t get much choice in the matter, but maybe that was how things worked out for her, specifically. Can he just be told things without having to puzzle out the small snippets of information he gets in his mind? Whatever, so long as he gets to be on his own, he thinks he’ll be-

“Clock?” calls a horribly familiar voice that makes something in his stomach twist into knot after knot as intense, icy fear spikes in the back of his throat, so thick he can barely swallow. Breathing heavily, he turns around, despairing at what he knows to be at the end of the hall.

There’s Winner, their jaw agape, blinking firmly several times over as if they’re trying to double check that he’s actually real. He really wishes he wasn’t, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Cringing, he shrinks back, eyes darting around as he tries to find a way out of here. And still, there’s nothing.

“What are you doing here?” they cry, taking a tentative step forward, seeming almost emboldened by the movement.

“That’s a long story,” he says awkwardly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Four and X- Well, we’re- there’s- it’s kinda-” He sputters and stumbles over his words, because he doesn’t want to say that he’s dating their two current hosts. That would give Winner the wrong idea, because he doesn’t actually love Four and X, he just likes the attention, and oh, look at that, that makes him sound even worse. He knows it’s stupid to not want to tell Winner he’s dating them, the hesitance rooted in a horribly naive hope that they can still have something, even after he’s ruined it all.

Winner just squints at him, looking hesitant. They don’t move to approach him any further, and with him shrinking back more and more the gap between them becomes horribly wide, just as wide as the distance between them feels even after all the steps he’s taken to bridge it. “What about Four and X?” they warily ask. “With how out of control they were today… Ugh, jeez, is this some screwed up prank by them or something?” They scoff, looking away.

“No!” he protests, before hesitating. “It’s- Winner, I-” He can’t apologize once again having already made himself so vulnerable by bringing himself to apologize once before. He can’t bring himself to be that desperate, in the end. He wants them to forgive him, wants them to love him in a different way than Four and X do. But he can never admit that. It just makes something sour rest in the back of his throat, tasting faintly of bile. “I think X is calling me,” he says hastily, turning on his heel and running away.

Because he can’t help himself, he looks over his shoulder as he runs, meeting Winner’s eye in the process. They look confused, brow furrowed as they watch him leave. They look like they desperately want to say something, but none of the words are coming to mind. He doesn’t know what someone like them could have to say to someone like him. He’s so busy wallowing in his own misery and self loathing that he can’t bring himself to talk to them, and surely they’re capable of realizing that, aren’t they? Whatever he can offer, he’ll never be any good.

If he wanted, he could say so many things to them. Instead, he just throws himself down the hallway, gasping for air as nausea twists in his gut. He can barely breathe. He didn’t want to see Winner at all. If Four and X are going to cling to him with all they have, can’t they protect him from the things that hurt the worst? What else are they good for if they can’t, other than to fuel his own fragile ego?

He runs, and feels stupid and weak and fucking miserable all the while, but running feels easier than standing still. When his feet are never completely planted on the ground is when he feels the most at ease, especially when he’s fleeing from Winner’s glum, confused stare all the while. He can run as far as he can and get away from Winner, but he can never quite flee Four and X. Maybe it’s fucked up that he finds that reassuring…

Clock runs down the hall, the stairs, and out the building entirely, darting around a corner and pressing himself against the wall as he closes his eyes and lets out a long, even breath. It’s better than hyperventilation, at least. He wasn’t remotely prepared to see Winner again, and he needs to take a second to just… breathe. Holy shit, has air always been this nice? Maybe it was just uncomfortably stagnant in Two’s pocket dimension. For as much as they try to appeal to the needs of the contestants, they’re doomed to be clueless about all of it. Maybe Gaty could have helped them learn more, but she’s gone.

She’s gone, and all he’s thinking about is how her presence could have benefitted him. Is he the worst person in the world? Probably. He can’t bear it.

He spends minute after minute pressed up against the wall, breathing heavily as he tries to get his bearings. It… doesn’t really work, no matter how much he forces air in and out of his lungs to remind himself that he’s still real, that he’s still here. It doesn’t work. He’s tempted to blame Winner for his spiral. He would be fine if it weren’t for them. But he knows better than to funnel all of his problems into them, as if they’re remotely prepared to handle that. He’s a bad person, but he’s capable of learning his lesson.

Finally, he grows tired of remaining curled up on the ground, head buried in his knees like it’s the one thing capable of keeping him steady, and with a bit out sigh he raises his head. He’s not doing much else here, so he might as well head to the kitchen. He might as well try to avoid Winner if he can. As he raises his head, though-

“Ack!” he yelps, trying to flinch back only to slam his head against the wall. He locks eyes with a familiar pair of dark eyes which have been trained on him for who knows how long. It’s Bottle, yellow grass and green trees visible through her body. Her mouth is opened in a small, bemused o, eyebrows hiked up her face as she tilts her head. “H-How long have you been here?” he says with a pained hiss, the back of his head throbbing.

“Not that long,” Bottle says innocently, her hands clasped together. “I spotted you walking out here from my window, and I thought, huh, that’s weird! I was pretty sure you were eliminated…” She taps her cheek as she speaks.

“I am. I was? Four and X brought me back,” he mumbles, getting to his feet. It’s a struggle to meet her eyes, so he just stares at the ground instead.

“Why?” Bottle is quick to shoot back, smiling innocently. She’s kind and somewhat airheaded, so she probably isn’t aware of the probing, uncomfortable air her questions have, much less actually intending it. Still, though, he feels each word she utters digging into his skin, leading him to wonder how fast he can ditch this conversation, too. Funny how Bottle was one of the two people he was actually willing to talk to, and now he can’t even manage that much.

“Because they’re insane,” he grumbles in reply, rolling his eyes. “Do I seriously need a reason for it?”

Bottle shrugs. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that!” she says brightly. “Wanna meet some of my new teammates?”

“Pretty sure I know everyone in the game, so it wouldn’t be meeting them, but sure,” he says dryly. Might as well get a sense of who he was replaced with. “Would you believe me if I said no one who’s eliminated has any fucking clue what’s going on out here? It’s been months and the only people who have been eliminated since Nickel and, uh, me have been Eraser and Pin, who aren’t that helpful.”

“Just Eraser and Pin?” Bottle says, blinking. “Huh. Gaty was eliminated too, and she didn’t go missing… Oh, well. Come on, Clock!” She runs forward, gesturing for him to follow after her, leaving him reeling from the sudden whiplash. It becomes abruptly clear to him that no one knows about Gaty. Just the Algebrailians and… him. Ugh, what a responsibility. Should he try to tell people about her fate? Most of her friends have been eliminated anyway, and they can guess what happened to her just fine… Honestly, he shouldn’t even bother.

Either way, he trudges after Bottle. Her infectious enthusiasm doesn’t rub off on him, not in the way he would like it to, but he can’t be unhappy about spending time with normal people. He was stuck with Four and X for months, and everyone in Two’s pocket dimension was a little bit… out of sorts after varying time spent in there. Bottle is eccentric, yeah, but everyone here can be branded with that classification, so that doesn’t mean much.

She leads him through the hotel again, but they stay on the bottom floor. Winner is closer to the top, so unless they tried to go after him, he shouldn’t have to worry about seeing them. Even with that brilliant logic deployed, he still finds himself worried. What would hurt them more, running away the moment he sees them or talking to them and inevitably doing something wrong?

Despite the distinct lack of Winner on the bottom floor, there’s a lot of other people around, with a sort of frazzled energy about them that can only be from a challenge having just ended. Of course, as he slinks behind Bottle, several pairs of eyes turn onto him, following after him. They have such a horrible energy to them that makes him just want to curl into a ball and die. Intense and judging and fuck him, it’s way too much. If this is the reason Winner shrank away from the burden of fame, he sure as hell can’t judge them. In fact, he finds himself judging Loser for not doing the same.

“They’re all staring,” he grumbles to Bottle. “You sure you couldn’t have figured out something else? Something that would get less eyes on me?”

“You shouldn’t worry so much about what other people think about you, Clock!” she says brightly, and he can’t help but snort, because really, has she met him? Instead, he just decides to glare at everyone else with his face scrunched up into the nastiest glare he can manage, because if people are going to judge him for being here, he can judge them for judging him. And if they really piss him off, he can sic Four and X on them and let them be as violent as they want, just because. He’s kind of passed the point where he gives a shit about any of this anymore. If the two of them are going to be in love with him, he might as well get more from it than just attention.

Ignoring the stares isn’t something he’s capable of. In the end, he’s only human. But he tries not to let them bother him too much, because they’ll abate eventually. If it takes even a month for Two to get over Gaty’s disappearance and get back to hosting, everyone else would have gotten used to him. He just needs to cling to that, using it as a shield to shrug off the weighted stares thrown his way. But god, do they have to be so intense?

Eventually, Bottle comes to a stop halfway down the hall, waving toward the familiar faces of Pen and Liy. He’s less surprised to see Pen, but the appearance of Liy is startling even if he knew her and Pencil had been chosen to rejoin the game. They both blink at him, eyes wide.

“Uh… Clock? That is Clock, right?” Pen says warily. The first question is directed to him, but the second is directed to Bottle.

“What are you doing here? Weren’t you eliminated?” Liy says, voice sharp and suspicious as she squints at him.

“Could say the same about you,” he retorts, prompting a glare from the both of them. “So you two are Bottle’s new teammates, huh?”

“Some of them!” Bottle exuberantly agrees, either not picking up on or outright ignoring the harsh tension between him and Liy. “We’re all members of-” And then she hums out some notes as if that’s meant to be a name? “-alongside TB and TV!”

“Hm,” he says slowly. Liy is still glaring at him, and considering what she’s been through in relation to elimination and the more unpredictable set of hosts, she deserves some sort of explanation. He just… doesn’t think she’ll be all too fond of it. “Four and X grabbed me from Two’s elimination area about ten minutes ago.”

“Shouldn’t you know the exact time?” Pen snarks.

“Shouldn’t you mind your own business?” he snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Why would they bring you back?” Liy presses, a sharp look in her eyes as she leans forward.

“Because they’re unpredictable. Shouldn’t you know that, since you’re here?” he says boredly. Pen grabs onto her arm before she can lunge forward, but it’s a near thing.

“We all worked our asses off to escape Four!” she snaps. “What would you know about him?!”

“Other than the time he killed me for no reason and none of my teammates remembered to bring me back for months?! Other than the months on end I spent in that damn kitchen?!” he hisses, standing as straight as he can manage. “I dunno. Not a lot of things, I guess.” He looks away from her with a scoff.

Liy’s expression doesn’t soften in the slightest. It remains harsh and angry, regardless of the uncomfortable way Pen fidgets with his cap beside her and Bottle smiles cluelessly, probably just glad they’re getting along so well. “Whatever you went through, I had it worse,” she says, almost managing to sound bored as she looks away from him.

“Not saying you didn’t. But it’s not worth fighting about either way, don’t you think?”

She looks him up and down, before sighing. “What did you do to deserve an escape while I didn’t?” she mumbles, the words obviously meant for herself and herself alone. Everyone can hear her, though, so the air in the area just grows even more uncomfortable. Clock, for his part, just sighs. He knows he lucked out having Four and X fall in love with him, but being reminded of what exactly they can do just brings him back to his first days in the kitchen all over again, terrified of making one wrong step and dying when there was no one who remembered him enough to bring him back.

Just like the last time.

He’s playing a dangerous game with Four and X, but at least it’s a game he has a chance of winning. Liy and the other EXITors? They never even had a chance.

“I’m borrowing him,” a voice suddenly hisses as he’s grabbed and dragged off in full view of Bottle, Pen, and Liy. The latter two look relieved, while the former looks as airheaded as usual, waving as he’s dragged off. It takes the tedious process of twisting his body around for him to realize that the person dragging him off is Fanny, her jaw grit and her eyes narrowed as she pulls him along.

“Oh, okay,” he says faintly, not trying to fight against being dragged. Maybe he should, but there’s something about the look in Fanny’s eyes, desperate and determined in equal measure, that just makes him want to let her. Guess he’s being borrowed, then.

She drags him down the hallway, up the elevator, down another hallway, and shoves him presumably into her room. She closes the door and slides the lock closed before whirling around to glare at him. He lets out a quiet “eep” at the weight of her gaze, finding himself overwhelmed by it. She’s as prickly and unapproachable as ever, but it has a new edge to it. Something desperate, something terrified. He doesn’t know what could ever rattle her so badly, and he really doesn’t want to find out.

“How close are you with Four and X?” she snaps without preamble, teeth bared as her cord rattles behind her in sharp, erratic movements.

“Close enough for them to bring me back after elimination,” he mumbles. He knows that’s not the answer she wants, and her sharp, angry glare just confirms that. “Fine, fine. I guess we’re kinda… dating or whatever.” He forces out the last three words as fast as he can as he balls his eyes closed. That’s the first time he’s outright said he’s dating Four and X. He’s kind of terrified to see how Fanny will react. Still, though, his desire for attention overwrites his fear, and a moment later, he tentatively opens an eye.

To his surprise, though, she doesn’t even seem phased by the declaration. She just nods, her expression remaining grim. “So they love you.”

“More than I love them, at any rate,” he mumbles, shrugging.

“Would they do anything for you?”

“Fanny.” He trains a flat look on her. “They would bring me a planet if I asked.”

He’s kind of making a challenge out of it at this point, trying his hardest to faze her, but it seems that the thing bothering her is too intense for anything to get her mind off of it. “Good,” she says evenly. She’s silent for only a second, eyes closing before flying open, affixing themselves to him. “Ice Cube is missing.”

The weight of her words catches him off guard and he staggers backward as he breathes heavily, not knowing how to feel. “What?” he says faintly. “When? How? I-I thought-”

“The challenge was today. So was the elimination.” Fanny says abruptly, cutting him off. “Pin and Ice Cube were both eliminated.”

“Well, I knew about Pin,” he mumbles. “She was sent to the elimination area. It’s kind of a big deal when anyone shows up, given how inconsistent things have been lately. But Icy… She wasn’t there at all.”

“Exactly!” Fanny yells. If anything, the confirmation has only made her more wired. “When Pin was eliminated, Four’s arm turned green. From that, I was pretty sure that wherever she was sent was the same place as the rest of you. But when X eliminated Ice Cube, that didn’t happen. I… I have a theory.” All of the previous sentences had been loud, emotional, and explosive, but this sentence is delivered stiffly and painfully, her eyes darting around the dimly lit room in paranoia.

Clock, personally, is still reeling from the fact that whatever happened to Ice Cube, it was perpetrated by X. From Four, he wouldn’t have been surprised, but X? The X who is mannered, cares for the contestants, and is soft and round compared to Four’s sharp jagged edges? That X? He was the one who was to blame for the one person he actually wanted to talk to disappearing? His head is spinning. Still, though, he manages to force out a weak response. “A… A theory?” he asks, voice strangled.

She pauses, chewing on her cheek as she eyes him. “...Can I trust you?”

“We’ve barely spoken,” he says. “Dunno if I would go that far. Dunno if I can go that far. But I want Icy to be safe, so when it comes to her? You can. I swear.”

To his surprise, Fanny cracks a smile at that, even if it is weary and sharp. Fanny’s always struck her as the bitey type, but in comparison to Four she might as well be a pacifist. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, then,” she calls as she trots across the room, turning on a light on the way. It’s the only light in the room when the curtains are tightly drawn closed. She stops in front of a whiteboard, although it looks more like a conspiracy board to him, with the pictures and cramped writing.

“What is this?” he says warily even as he cautiously slinks after her. “...One?”

That is what the board says, for the record. In the center of the board is a blue number one, similar to the other Algebrailians he’s met save for the lack of arms. He can empathize. There’s photos of her, all of them involving her hiding from sight in some way, and writing surrounding the picture. The thing that really catches his attention, though, are the drawings of objects on the bottom.

“The missing contestants,” he breathes out, easily recognizing the pattern. Then his eyes flit to the left to where Fanny and Ice Cube are drawn, and his brow furrows as he reads out the text pointing to them. “...Binded?” Fanny just grimaces as she stares at the ground. “Uh, Fanny, what is all of this? It… It has to do with Ice Cube going missing, doesn’t it?”

“Her name is One,” she whispers. “An old friend of Two’s, apparently. She’s been the one taking all of the eliminated contestants. Both me and Ice Cube signed contracts with her. And she was the reason the world almost ended, I’m sure of it.” The look in her eyes is resolute and steely, but it can’t hide her fear.

“See, that’s the second time someone has mentioned the world almost ending, but I still don’t know what that means,” he says in exasperation.

“Well, there was yoylelite, and the failed debuters… Ugh, never mind,” she says, shaking her head to dismiss the topic. “Everything was just too convenient, though. We were pretty sure the whole thing was a diversion to force Gaty into signing a contract, since that’s when she went missing.”

“Okay,” he says impatiently. “So she can kidnap people, almost end the world, and coerce people into signing contracts. But why? What the hell is her motivation for all of this?! I don’t get it.” He scowls in frustration.

“When I signed my contract, she took me away to some sort of…” she begins only to trail off, face wrinkled in frustration.

“Pocket dimension?” he wryly prompts.

“Yeah, that works. It was like a seating room sort of thing, below an oppressive sky and massive moon. She also had a screen, though, and while I was there, she had it on Two. When she wasn’t focused on me, she was focused on them.” She shudders, looking perturbed. “The look in her eyes… God, I can barely describe it. I guess it was like a predator stalking her prey. She wants power, and whatever she’s doing, she clearly thinks she can get it.”

“Ugh, creepy.” he mumbles, imagining the scene in his mind’s eye. He’s more than used to Four and X acting unnerving, but One sounds… different. He really hopes he doesn’t end up crossing paths with her. “...I think this is starting to make sense, though. Ice Cube got eliminated, and the creepy Algebrailian she made a deal with rushed in to take her away.”

“Except that’s not how it was,” she scolds, training a glare onto him. “X was the one who sent her away, remember? And he and Four are a package deal. If she did end up with One, we both know who sent her there!” The longer she speaks, the more angry she gets, to the point where she’s leaning forward and breathing heavily in his face. Her shoulders are squared in determination and frustration. She’s clearly expecting some sort of opposition from him.

He has no interest in living up to those expectations, though. For one thing, she’s right. No matter how he thinks about Four and X, the facts are what they are. Pin was sent to Two’s pocket dimension. Ice Cube wasn’t. Where did she go? If she’s hurt, it’s his job to do something about it. He won’t just let her be forgotten about.

For another, Fanny looks exhausted. This has clearly been weighing heavily on her, to the point where there are deep bags under her eyes and her power cord drags on the floor behind her. Her mood swings are sudden and erratic, and the way she looks at him with her eyes sunken in…

She looks like Clock’s the only hope she has left. Normally, he would be thrilled by that, but the weight of those expectations… He doesn’t know. He feels kind of sick.

“You’re right,” he admits, ducking his head. “They did something to Icy. I don’t care how they feel about me, I can’t just let that go.” He grits his teeth. “I’ll get her back. You have my word.”

“Right, that’s all well and good,” Fanny begins, expression dry. “But do you seriously think you’ll get her back if you just ask nicely?” Her sneer makes it clear how she feels about that idea. “I don’t care how much they care about you, there’s no way One will let that happen.”

“I have to try anyway,” he says stubbornly. “It’s not like they’d ever hurt me, so I don’t have anything to lose.” Fanny’s expression becomes more grim at the reminder of their power in a way that makes him suspect that they hadn’t been exactly… benevolent during their time as hosts.

“I don’t know how you date those maniacs,” she grumbles, words having a vindictive edge to them. He finds himself irritated by her words. What does she know about Four and X? “Aren’t you scared of what could happen to you?” What right does she have to ask those questions? “One wrong move, and you’d be-”

“Of course I’m fucking scared!” he screams, startled by the feeling of tears pricking the corners of his eyes, sharp and stinging. “You seriously think I’m not? I, of all people, know what they’re capable of! Don’t you remember when I was dead for ages back in BFB because of Four?” He pauses, wondering if Fanny would even know about that or care enough to remember, and as she opens her mouth, he just snorts. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. No one on my own team even cared enough to know I was gone in the first place, so why would you?”

He tries to laugh, but the sound just comes out choked and watery. He realizes with mortification that he’s trembling and sniffling, biting his lip to try to stop it from wobbling. He turns away from Fanny, crouching down and wiping frantically at his eyes as his cheeks flush from the embarrassment.

“S-Sorry,” he mumbles, unable to stop his voice from breaking. “This is stupid. You’re right. I’m scared. I have to be. But I’ve gotten to know both of them really well. No matter what they may be involved in, I can always be certain of one thing. They love me. And that has to mean more than whatever deal they have with One.” As he speaks, he turns back to look Fanny in the eye, only for his confidence to waver at her doubtful expression. “I-It has to be enough,” he whispers. “There’s too much on the line for me to doubt it.”

“Does Ice Cube really mean that much to you?” she asks, eying him warily.

“We were friends. Not like I had a lot of those,” he grumbles in exasperation. “And anyway…” Here, he falters, not sure how to put it into words. He can interpret looks as much as he wants, overthinking to hell and back, but in the end there’s always the chance that it’s not right. But still, the way Ice Cube had looked at him as he was eliminated had a way of sticking in his mind, motivating in a way few things were. That was a fire that could only come from a drive for revenge. Maybe she was onto something with that.

“Never mind,” she says dismissively, walking toward the door and unlocking it. “It’s not my place to pry.” She steps into the doorway before glancing over her shoulder. “You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles under his breath, trudging after her. “They’d definitely be in the kitchen.”

“...Which us contestants are banned from,” Fanny dryly concludes, but Clock shakes his head.

“Not me. Come on.” He steps in front of her, leading the way as they head back down the elevator to the kitchen. He knocks on the door and quickly takes a step back, the door swinging open a moment later, slamming against the wall.

“How many times do we have to say you’re all banned fr- Oh, hi Clock!” Four says, mood swinging abruptly in just a few words. He goes from loud and furious to warm and welcoming in a millisecond, and he can tell it gives Fanny whiplash. He’s used to it, though, and just blinks, his face blank. “Come on in! You can try our new menu items!”

Speaking of Fanny… He glances back at her, mulling his options over for a moment before shaking his head. “Stay here,” he decides. “I can handle this on my own.”

A variety of expressions flicker over her face, from surprise to confusion to anger to resignation. “I hate martyrs,” she grumbles in frustration. “So you better make it back in one piece, got it?”

“It’s not me you have to worry about,” he says with a shrug, before turning and following after a beaming Four. He feels like he’s right back at square one as he immerses himself into the familiar surrounds of the kitchen. Everything’s right where he left it, more or less. There are some bags scattered along the floor and the pictures on the fridge have moved around a bit (had there always been One’s silhouette pinned to the fridge, or is that a newer addition?) but the familiar shrine to him remains in place, albeit with a few scattered pictures he thinks are new.

Maybe most would be perturbed by having a shrine of themselves built, complete with a statue twice their size, but he’s grown used to it at this point. He freaked the fuck out when he walked into the kitchen one day and just saw it there, though. To say it was alarming was an understatement. Either way, the shrine was just as creepy as he remembered it being, but he liked having physical proof of Four and X’s devotion to him. Surely that will make things easier for him, right?

(It’s probably his paranoia combined with Fanny’s words getting to him. Still, as he examines the fridge, he swears he sees the One picture briefly sporting eyes. He watches with detached shock as the eyes narrow into a glare at him, before disappearing. Just a figment of his imagination and nothing more.

Still, if he’s pressing himself to Four’s side a little tighter as the number escorts him through the kitchen, that’s neither here nor there.)

“X, X!” Four excitedly calls. “Look who came to visit!”

The other Algebrailian looks up from the food he had been preparing, brightening when he spots him. “Clock!” he calls, running forward and picking him up in a tight hug. He lets out a tired groan at the strength of it. Algebrailians are really into touchy-feely stuff, while he prefers words and compliments and the like. He’s surprised that the two had actually been receptive to that preference, but he does admit he has no qualms about basking in the tide of their never-ending compliments whenever it comes up.

“Hey,” he wheezes. He probably shouldn’t come right into the topic of Ice Cube. Maybe small talk? Do Algebrailians even do small talk? He racks his brain to try to remember, but the only thing that comes to mind is one of Four and X’s stupid fishing trips, the X on the boat cheering in tandem with the X on the line. Ugh, so creepy… “So, uh, what are you two working on in here? Anything new?”

“Well, since we’re now the new hosts of TPOT for now and forever,” Four begins, tapping his cheek. Yup. Definitely a power trip. “We figured we have to be the one to make the cakes for all future Cake at Stakes.”

“That’s what I did today!” X cheers, jumping up and down. “They were really good! Here, when I’m done with this batch, you can try them!” He points a finger to the oven, and for a brief moment it roars with flames that quickly abate. A moment later, something rings, and he turns off the oven with one hand and grabs the cake pans with the other. Clock instinctively grimaces at the lack of gloves, but X doesn’t even seem to feel the heat.

He sets them on the table, and Four is quick to decorate them with a surprising amount of precision, cutting them into even slices and attaching a dollop of frosting, blue sticks he thinks might be Pocky, and a flat chocolate circle dyed blue and white that looks awfully familiar.

Clock gets it when Four sets down a slice on a plate in front of him, both of them training wide, eager grins onto him. The fucking cake is themed after him? Is it cannibalism if he eats it? No, he decides, it isn’t. He skewers a bit of the cake on a fork and takes a bite, only to melt as he tastes it. Fuck, that’s really good. Not that the fact comes as much of a surprise, considering how good their other cooking is. For a species that doesn’t need to eat, they sure do have a sense of what tastes good.

“What do you think?” X prompts, both him and Four leaning forward with eager, hungry looks in their eyes. They soak up any praise he can offer like a sponge, and he supposes he isn’t that better. But their praise always has an edge of meaninglessness no matter how much he enjoys  hearing it, because he could breathe and they would shower him in praise. He wants to feel like he’s done something worthwhile so he can appreciate it. Maybe he just wants to hear Winner- Nope, never mind, he’s decided he isn’t going there.

“It’s great,” he says, voice missing its usual dry, sarcastic edge it takes on whenever he deals with the two of them. “It tastes as amazing as everything you make.” Squinting, he hesitates for a moment before reaching to the small chocolate effigy on top of the cake, popping it into his mouth. Even that tastes good.

“Yay!” X cheers in excitement.

“You sure you don’t notice anything off?” Four asks, leaning against the counter. “Both of us think that our cooking has changed ever since Two-” He growls out their name, which seems kind of cruel considering what they’re going through. “-took you away from us.”

“Yeah, it’s missing something!” X says, frowning. “Nothing tastes the same without you here!” As he speaks, he leans forward to hug Clock tightly, as if trying to assure himself that he’s still real and here. Unfortunately for Clock, the answer to both of those questions is yes.

“Pretty sure you’re just imagining that,” he says wryly. “Glad to know you missed me that much, though. Your letters were nice, but I like being able to… uh… make sure. A-Anyway!” He clears his throat, face red. “I’ve heard from a few friends that Ice Cube was one of the contestants eliminated today.” He notices both X and Four tense, and he has to bite back a sigh. Damn it, why did Fanny have to be right?

“That’s right!” Four says, an audible nervous undertone to his words as he pats Clock on the head. “You’re so smart. Uh…” Both him and X exchange a wide eyed glance, before Four hurriedly continues. “You know, today we-”

“Right,” Clock says dryly, cutting him off. He’s not going to let him change the topic that easily. “So, y’know, I did spot Pin before you guys broke me out of Two’s, uh, area? But I didn’t see Icy at all, which is kind of a shame, ‘cause I wanted to talk to her.”

Both Four and X’s smiles freeze on their faces. “Oh,” grits out the former. “You… did?”

“Yeah. Some competition stuff, some personal stuff, you know how it is,” he says with a shrug.

“You can talk to us, Clock!” X chirps, the picture of earnest. “You can trust us!”

“Sure, I could, but some of the stuff I wanted to discuss relates to her directly,” he says carefully. “I get that it’s kinda annoying to grab her. But you did it for me, so you can do it for her, right? I mean, I didn’t spot her in the elimination area, but I’m sure she’s there. Where else would she be?” Both of them try to avoid looking at him. “Unless something else happened to her?” he says carefully, eying both of them. “I mean, I know there’s been contestants going missing lately, but I don’t know why she-”

“Nope!” Four cries, voice strained as his grimace grows so wide it stretches off his face. “Nothing happened!”

“...Right,” he says slowly when it becomes apparent that’s all he has to say. “So, uh, are you gonna grab her, or…?”

“Well, I dunno if we can,” X says with a frown.

“Why not? If you eliminated her the same way you did Pin, it should be no problem,” he pushes, before frowning at the two’s wide eyed, nervous expressions. Hm, maybe he’s playing too dumb here. He knows full well she isn’t where she should be, after all, and maybe trying to take her back from One will cause more problems then he thinks it will.

Are both of them that scared of One, though? No, that can’t be it. They aren’t looking at him, but they don’t seem that anxious about anything else. Maybe they’re just scared of disappointing him or guilty about lying to him. Something like that. He really shouldn’t be making excuses for the two of them, but he doesn’t want to think the worst of them. Yes, they’re involved with One, and yes, they’re trying to avoid saying anything outright, but maybe…? Ugh, he doesn’t know.

“Listen,” he says slowly. “How about this? I get that you can’t just bring back eliminated contestants willy-nilly. It’ll definitely ruin the competition. So how about an, uh, agreement, I guess? You can send her back when you send me back.”

“But we don’t wanna send you back, Clock!” X wails, clinging to him. “Two’s gonna be out of it for ages!” From him, that could mean anywhere from a few hours to a few centuries. “That means we get to host, and we get to decide who to keep around!”

“Makes sense. And I’m not against that,” he relents. That’s also a pretty easy excuse to not have him sent back at the same time as Ice Cube and see that she isn’t where she’s supposed to be, but he digresses. “Maybe I can decide when she can be sent back, then? Whenever we’re done talking about stuff.”

“That shouldn’t take too long…” Four muses, scratching his chin as he furrows his brow. “Okay!” His voice had initially been deep and growly as he mumbled in thought, but it raises an octave as he agrees. He nods at X, who outstretches his hand. At first, his face is scrunched up in focus, hand still raised, but he stops when Four shakes his head. “No, that’s how you bring back dead contestants, remember?” he prompts. “For her, you’d have to swipe your hand.”

“Ohhh! Right! I get it now!” X says brightly. None of this is really boding well for Ice Cube’s safety, but at least he knows she isn’t dead…? He raises his hand high and brings it down in a blur of yellow, and when his hand goes back to his side, Ice Cube is left standing on the kitchen floor, looking dazed and fearful as her eyes dart around.

“What’s-?” she begins, breathing heavily. “Four? X? Clock? But I thought…” She says his name with the most bafflement, blinking at him several times as if he’ll disappear the next time her eyes open.

“Listen up,” Four growls, leaning in front of her. She doesn’t shrink back, though. Instead, she just glares at him, expression flat and unimpressed. “We brought you back from Two’s elimination area-” He puts such sharp emphasis on the words that anyone can tell that… Well, he didn’t do that. “-at Clock’s request. If you cause any trouble, we won’t hesitate to send you back.” That’s the word Ice Cube flinches at, fear flickering in her eyes as she shrinks back. “Got it?”

“Yeah, I get it.” she whispers, breathing heavily. And, well, Clock should definitely step in so Four doesn’t keep menacing her. For as steely, strong, and unaffected as Ice Cube has the potential to be, she also looks really shaken, and he doesn’t blame her. He can only imagine what she was experiencing.

Clearing his throat, he puts himself between Ice Cube and Four, the latter quickly leaning back and offering him a smile. “Okay!” he says. “Thanks a lot for grabbing her for me, Four. We have a lot of catching up to do, so we should get going, but I’ll keep an eye on her for you…?” Is that the right thing to say here? Anything that gets Four and X’s eyes off of the two of them is the right thing to say here, surely.

Four looks like he wants to say something, but X interrupts him. “Sounds good!” he chirps, patting him on the head. “Come back soon, though! We have a bunch of new recipes we want you to taste test!”

He can’t help but eye the cake themed after him sitting on the counter, and Ice Cube, sharp as ever, is quick to follow his gaze, her expression going all funny and pinched when she notices the chocolate decorations made in his image. “Definitely,” he says after a beat of silence that drags on for way too long, before he swallows and grabs Ice Cube. “C’mon, let’s go.” She sputters in surprise, hesitating, and he throws her a firm look over his shoulder. “...Please?” he tentatively adds.

“Right.” She nods as she begins to trail after him. Any pace they might’ve had, though, is quickly thrown off when she notices the shrine to him and careens to a sudden stop, her eyes going wide. “What the fuck is that?” she yelps, looking startled.

“Not important!” he fires back tensely. “Hurry up!” And then he pauses, eying Four and X. They haven’t moved from their spots, but their eyes follow the two of them in sync in a way that’s really fucking creepy. Leaning in, he whispers “Fanny’s waiting for you, y’know.”

Clock isn’t actually sure if that would do anything, but it seems to light a new fire under her as her eyes widen and she straightens, clearing her throat. “Right!” she says. She throws a wary look back to the two Algebrailians looming near the kitchen counter like vengeful, haunting spectres, and cringes. “Are you sure they’re just going to let us leave?” she hisses.

“They’ll let me leave, and since you’re with me, they’ll let you leave, too,” he confidently replies. “Now can we please get a move on? I don’t like the way the statue they built of me stares at me.”

Snorting, Ice Cube obliges, although he doesn’t miss the way she glances toward the picture of One on the fridge and turns several shades paler. She moves to press herself to his side, but when she brushes against him, she stops, shaking her head and moving away. Either way, when the two make their way out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them, she relaxes, letting out a relieved sigh.

Outside was Fanny pacing back and forth in impatient circles, her brow furrowed and teeth grit, but the moment she hears the door open, she stops cold, head snapping up. She meets Ice Cube’s eyes, jaw falling open. “...Ice Cube?” she says, her voice quiet and disbelieving. “Ice Cube!” She runs forward, the two colliding in a tangle of limbs as they move to hug each other as best as they can without arms.

The two fall on the floor, slamming against the door as they laugh. They actually laugh, pressing themselves tightly to one another. Fanny presses her fan against Ice Cube’s cheek, her laughs light and thrilled. Clock hadn’t thought either of them capable of it. Fanny is so prickly and Ice Cube is so cold, he thought the only mirth they could conjure were small, bitten back smiles.

And yet, there they are anyway, sitting on the ground and beaming at each other. It makes something in Clock fracture just slightly if he wonders if he’ll ever be able to have that.

“I was so worried,” Fanny gasps out the moment she catches her breath, her smile too wide for her to bite back even as she chews on her lip self consciously. “W-When I realized how you and Pin were eliminated, I knew- Are you okay? Did she do anything to you?” Although her words take on a sharper edge, she’s still smiling, their bodies pressed so closely together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

“I’m fine, really,” Ice Cube gasps out in response, looking like she wants to get to her feet but also doesn’t want to leave Fanny’s side. “S-She- Um…” She trails off, looking away as she chews on the side of her cheek. “Sorry. Can we go to your room or something? Dunno how I feel about being out in the open like this so close to them.” She shoots a resentful look at the closed kitchen door, and Clock grimaces awkwardly. It’s not uncommon to see such vitriol directed at the less benevolent of their hosts, but it feels really strange now that he’s dating them. He feels like a traitor.

“Got it,” she says, getting to her feet and nudging Ice Cube until she mimics the motion, the latter flashing her an exasperated but fond smile. They both make their way down the hallway, but Clock just awkwardly hovers at the doorway to the kitchen. He feels like he’s intruding on the two of them. Besides, Fanny got what she wanted from him, why would she want him around any longer? Things will always be the same for him. The only love he’ll ever get will be from Four and X.

Ice Cube looks over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow as she catches his eye. “You coming?” she prompts.

Fanny also pauses when she hears her voice, training an exasperated look onto Clock. “Come on, hurry up!” she impatiently calls. “I hate when people drag their feet.”

Oh. Huh. They both want him to come along with them? Even if it’s because he can still be useful to them, he sure as hell doesn’t mind it. A smile spreads across his face unbidden as he rushes after them. “S-Sorry, I was just… thinking.” he says sheepishly. He’d prefer to not put the idea of them leaving him in their heads if he can help it. 

The three rush through the hallways. People are probably aware of Clock being back by now, and with that he can dismiss it as being Four and X’s favorite. Akin to Two keeping Gaty from elimination, even if they might be the only three objects aware of that particular tidbit and able to tell anyone about it. A lot of eliminated contestants have figured out that Two didn’t eliminate Gaty (and Saw’s dejected expression when she realized that won’t fully ever leave his mind) but eliminated contestants are voiceless, worthless, nonexistent. He knows what that’s like, so he’s able to resign himself to it easier.

While they can guess as to Clock being here, Ice Cube’s presence is inexplicable. If it comes out that she’s here, there will definitely be some accusations about bias hurled around alongside requests for more people. Not that Clock is particularly against the eliminated contestants being brought back, since Two’s pocket dimension is cramped when you get used to it, but he doubts having the eliminated contestants brought back would be exactly… productive.

More targets for One, he’s sure. He can only guess as to her motives and actions, having only gotten a surface look at her, but either way she definitely can’t take contestants once they’re in Two’s pocket dimension. Which makes him at risk where he previously wasn’t, but he’s fine with that. If he’s useful enough to be kidnapped, isn’t that kind of a win in and of itself?

Either way, he’d prefer for people to not know about Ice Cube. And if their pace is any indication, the other two have come to the same conclusion. They make it to Fanny’s room in record time, avoiding the elevator altogether, and the moment Clock makes it through the door, Fanny slams the door, the lock clicking into place.

Ice Cube immediately sits down on the floor, and Fanny doesn’t hesitate to do the same, both of them leaning against the wall. After Ice Cube shoots her a few nervous glances, she scoots over closer to her, pressing herself against Fanny’s side. The giddy energy about her doesn’t erase how visibly shaken she is, and she stares at Fanny like she’s the one thing keeping her tethered. Fanny, for her part, just leans into the touch, nodding at her and making no effort to move away.

“God,” Ice Cube whispers. “It’s been a wild fucking day, huh? Between the elimination and…” She swallows and doesn’t finish, looking pained. “It feels like an eternity has passed.”

“Is time different with One?” Clock tentatively asks. “It’s hard for people to keep track of time in Two’s pocket dimension, but I have my clock hands to keep me straight.”

“That’s right!” Ice Cube says with a gasp as she straightens. Although she sidesteps the question entirely, Clock leaves it. “Your clock hands! If I get kidnapped again, I’m taking you with me so I don’t go insane.”

“Don’t just volunteer me for that!” he cries in dismay. “...Besides,” he sheepishly mutters as an afterthought. “Even if I was kidnapped, Four and X would get me back within the day anyway, so it’s a moot point.”

“Even better a reason to get kidnapped with you,” Fanny mumbles. “It would barely last because Four and X are so obsessed with you.”

“They aren’t obsessed with me!” he protests, only to falter at the two’s flat expressions. “Okay, well, maybe they’re a little bit obsessed with me-” he begins.

“People who are a little bit obsessed don’t build shrines filled with pictures and a statue!” Ice Cube scornfully shoots back.

“Wait, they have a what? Is that why they don’t let anyone into the kitchen?” Fanny yelps in shock, head lifting.

“Yes, they built a shrine of me, and no, that’s not their reason,” he deadpans. “I thought we said we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“You said that, but I didn’t,” she fires back, grinning cheekily. “Honestly, Fanny, it’s insane. You should really see it-”

“Can we change the subject?!” he says loudly, cheeks heating.

“Fine, fine,” Ice Cube relents, grinning. Fanny has a lot less mirth about her, throwing glances toward him with a frown etched onto her face. She looks like she’s tempted to say something, but in the end she just swallows and looks away, looking lost in thought. “So what are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I get it,” Fanny says with a hum. “We were focused on getting you back from One, but we didn’t think about what would happen after. I mean, now we have a man on the inside, so to speak-” She gestures toward Clock, who blinks. “-so we can do what we can to combat One in the moment.”

“Have you told people about her?” Ice Cube asks, an intent glint in her eye. “I think that’s the best way to go about things.”

“I’ve tried!” she protests. “Tennis Ball knows! It’s just-” Something pained and unreadable flickers across her face as she ducks her head. “It’s hard. And did you see the way Four and X looked at us right before you were eliminated and you were talking about telling people? It was awful. I hated it!” She shudders, not as much angry as she is nervous.

“Yeah, I remember,” Ice Cube mumbles.

“If we tried to make One’s presence become common knowledge, she would do everything she could to stop us,” Fanny continues, voice steely and matter-of-fact. “She took you, didn’t she?! I just think we have to be careful about who we tell. People like Golf Ball and Donut? Sure. People like Pencil or Yellow Face? Probably not.”

Ice Cube shrugs. “Sure. You’re right about that. If we had enough time, I would have made a list of the best people to talk to. But One is doing all she can to keep us quiet. Isn’t that reason enough to tell everyone we can?!”

“Not if it hurts us!” Fanny shoots back, her gaze fiery. “We need to be careful! Who’s going to let people know about One if we’re gone?!”

“Um-” Clock awkwardly begins, not knowing what to say but knowing he should probably say something, right?

“What does that matter?! Now we know we can come back!” Ice Cube snaps, gesturing toward Clock.

“Hang on-” he protests, not sure if he likes being used as a prop in this argument.

“You don’t know what One is capable of!” Fanny yells.

“Like ending the world?! I know that!”

“N-No, it’s-!” She cuts herself off with a gasp of air, breathing heavily as she curls in on herself. Both him and Ice Cube exchange wide eyed glances as she begins to gasp for air, neither of them quite sure what to do. Clock takes a step back anxiously. This… doesn’t really involve him, and he has no clue how he’s meant to handle it. Ice Cube rolls her eyes before turning back to her.

“Hey, Fanny, listen, I’m sorry,” she says quietly, head ducked. “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

“It’s- It’s fine,” she gasps out, her teeth grit as she tries desperately to recenter herself. “I just got- overwhelmed. Damn it, I hate this…” She presses one foot against her fan, eyes balled closed. “Listen, Icy. Things with One are really complicated. She’s… tricky. You can never expect things to go any one way, not when she’s involved. I just want you to be safe.” She lets out a pained breath as she slumps against the wall.

“I dunno how you can act like such an expert on her, considering I just spent the better half of a day…” She trails off, her face scrunched up. “Ugh. Never mind. But we have time, don’t we, Clock?” She shoots him a sidelong glance. “There isn’t a time limit on me being here, right?”

“I told Four and X you could be sent back when I was ready for you to be,” he says, shrugging. “So yeah. We have time.” She smiles at him, and he can’t help but smile back. This is nice.

“Good,” Fanny says, letting out a measured breath. “You’re right. We have time. We can think about this later, then, when we’ve had time to calm down. Today’s been a lot.”

“I guess so,” Ice Cube relents, although she’s still staring at Fanny with a searching look, as if she’s trying her hardest to read her. “What about you, Clock?”

“M-Me?” he says, startling at being addressed.

“Yeah. What do you think you’re going to do? You got me back, so what’s next?”

“Well, for as long as Four and X host, I’m sticking around,” Clock declares, confident and definitive. He knows there isn’t a world in which that isn’t the truth. As long as they have the choice, they’ll keep him here. It’ll be as suffocating as ever, a feeling his mind has grown to associate with love. Good or bad, he can’t control what his mind Pavlov's itself into. “And I’ll do what I can to get information from them. Maybe protect people from One, if I get the chance.” 

He grins, but the motion is wobbly and uncertain. It’s a heavy burden to take on, he knows, especially when Ice Cube and Fanny’s faces are pale and drawn with the weight of everything they have to deal with. He’s putting himself in the line of fire and for what? He could stay with Four and X and avoid everything painful in his life, never thinking about his old team and Winner, and he would be perfectly happy.

But what kind of life would it be if he turned his back on everyone else? He doesn’t think he can handle being stuck with Four and X forever. They love him, but their definition of love is different. It makes him dizzy. And he doesn’t think he’ll be able to reciprocate it. He just wants to feel like he’s worth something, like he’ll be remembered. He doesn’t want to be stuck in a one sided relationship forever. He wants more.

(He wants Winner, not that he deserves them. So that’s it, really. That’s all. Either he can settle with Four and X, or he can try to protect his friends. He’d prefer his life to be worth more than something to not just two people, and he supposes Ice Cube and Fanny are as good a place to start as any.)

“Are you sure, Clock?” Ice Cube asks quietly. She hasn’t left Fanny’s side ever since she was brought back, leaning into her like the other woman is the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. Fanny, for her part, just stands tall. It’s hard to read her, but Clock thinks she softens around Ice Cube, and she softens around Fanny in turn. “You’ve done enough as is. With saving me. I don’t want you to be put in danger. If One decides she needs to do something about you…” She trails off, shuddering.

“Or worse, if she decides you’ll be useful to her,” Fanny grimly adds. “Who knows why she’s signing all of those contracts? At least her reasons for taking Gaty are obvious. But everyone else?” She shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, but the motion is obviously strained and labored. “Who knows?”

“Well, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out how I would be useful to her, even if Four and X are working with her,” Clock says. He can’t help but puff out his chest as he says that. It’s obvious how he’ll benefit One. For once, he’s finally worth something.

“That’s bad, Clock,” Ice Cube points out, her expression deadpan.

“...Oh. Right. I knew that.” He swallows and looks away from them, cheeks heating.

“Your team in BFB really did a number on you, huh?” Fanny says dryly, and he can’t help but bristle at being seen through so easily by someone he barely even knows.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he petulantly grumbles as he trudges over to sit next to Ice Cube. She rolls her eyes at him as he sits down, but she doesn’t try to move. Even better, she doesn’t try to push him away when he tentatively moves to lean against her. The chill of her body makes goosebumps prickle along his legs, but he kind of likes the cold. He needs reminders of being alive where he can get them. “...You’re probably one of my closest friends, you know,” he whispers after a minute of silence, glancing toward Ice Cube as he speaks.

“That’s really sad,” she declares, and as tempting as it is to try to pick a fight with her to defend what little honor he has… he decides to leave it. He doesn’t want to ruin things like he had with Winner, anyway.

“Maybe,” he mumbles. “But it’s true.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a wreck,” Fanny abruptly groans, causing him to jump. 

“...Sorry?” he says tentatively.

“Don’t apologize!” she snaps. “I just- Well, I guess it makes sense why you’re so willing to throw yourself into this. Do you have any self preservation at all?”

“He’s dating Four and X. The answer to that question is obviously no,” Ice Cube interjects before he can answer, and he stews in his embarrassment as his cheeks flush.

“I can leave. If you want.” he whispers tentatively, even though he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay with Ice Cube. He wants to have this.

“You’re fine, Clock, really!” Ice Cube snaps, voice drenched in exasperation as she eyes him. “Are we not allowed to poke fun at you?”

“No, it’s fine,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. That’s a pretty good indication of friendship, isn’t it? Casual teasing with someone else? He doesn’t know. He wants to find out. First he’s gotten acquainted with the feeling of love, and now he’s figuring out friendship. Most people do it the other way around, but at least he’s trying, right? “It’s just… a lot. All of this is a lot for me. Today’s been long. You can’t blame me for being overwhelmed, can you?”

His tone is dry and dismissive, but it’s undercut by him pressing himself closer against Ice Cube, who just shrugs in response to his question. He’s so cold. He’s so alive. This is all he could ever want. Maybe friendship is just another type of love, a type he feels capable of actually reciprocating.

“This is nice,” he whispers, voice wobbling as he admits the fact. If he’s too vulnerable, will he lose this?

“Yeah,” Ice Cube agrees, the sound hushed. From there, they fall silent, the sound warm and companionable. There’s still the weight of One hanging over them. For now, though, they can cast it aside and just be happy with what they have here. That’s what he hopes, anyway. Maybe it’s naivety born out of weariness.

Or maybe, it just might be possible.

Chapter Text

He wakes up to a warping, lurching feeling in his stomach that feels not entirely dissimilar to the sensation of getting dragged into Two’s pocket dimension. He lets out a disoriented groan as he tries to figure out what the hell is happening, vision still blurry with the remnants of sleep. He’s off balance, and the side of him that had been leaning forward is chilly, as if he had spent the entire night slumped against ice or something.

Wait. Ah. Hm. Right. So that makes sense, at least. But the lurching sensation of being displaced through space certainly didn’t. There was no way Two had managed to get themselves together and send him back to where he was supposed to be in… what? The span of a night? And Four and X have no reason to send him to their pocket dimensions. Eternal algebra and whatever X has are punishments he hasn’t done anything to deserve. So what the hell is the source of that awful sensation?

Finally, after blinking and scrubbing furiously at his eyes, he gets his answer. For one, he’s on a wide couch, so comfortable he’s practically sinking into it. He’s trapped beneath a heavy night sky, far darker than the sky he’s used to, and the only thing in the sky is a massive orange moon casting its light over everything in the room, painting it all in garish colors. Across from him is a coffee table, a big screen with nothing being displayed on it, and…

Another chair, the same color but a lot shorter. Not the thing that should be catching his attention, but he’s good at compartmentalizing. As for the person sitting on it…

“Hello there, Clock,” says One, staring at him with wide, intense eyes. Her voice sounds exactly the way he imagined it, bright and friendly but with an edge of something to it. “I’m so glad we finally get to meet. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Funny,” he says, trying to keep his breathing as even as possible. “I could say the same about you.”

She laughs. “Well, you can’t trust everything you hear, can you?” she prompts, and although her voice is airy and amused, that steely, analytical look in her eyes hasn’t gone away. Clock can’t help but feel as if he’s pinned to the back of the couch, being examined like he was an insect mounted to a wall.

“Maybe not,” he retorts with a scoff. “But I don’t think I can exactly trust the maniac going around kidnapping my friends, either.”

One summons a hand made from magic and presses it against her cheek, smiling wryly. “Oh? Do you consider Needle a friend?” she says, tone curious as she smiles widely. “Last time I checked, you resented her for abandoning you, or did that change? Hard to keep an eye on things when you’re in Two’s clutches, after all.”

Right. He doesn’t like that at all. “Creepy,” he says dryly. “You aren’t exactly helping your case, you know. Spying on people doesn’t exactly make them partial to trusting you. So why not cut to the chase and get to what you took me for?”

“Patience,” she chides, smiling. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll get to that. First, though…” Her smile takes on a sardonic edge to it as she leans forward, and he can’t help but lean back nervously. It’s power she wants? Doesn’t she have enough of that, able to unnerve anyone with just a glance thrown their way? “You, Four, and X, hm? I wouldn’t have coined you as the sort of person they’d be interested in.” She says the word interested with intense, foreboding weight, and although he can bite back the shudder at that fact, he can’t hide the goosebumps that prickle along his legs.

“It came as a surprise to me, too,” he relents, rolling his eyes. “But I don't really think-”

“Rather fascinating, is it not?” she continues, steamrolling right over him without a care in the world. “Of course, I doubt it’s you they’re interested in. Algebrailians are awfully possessive of their toys. Certainly not love by your standards, at any rate.”

“Like you are with Ice Cube?” he hisses, righteous fury scorching through him at the callous, dismissive way she speaks of his friend. “She’s not just-!”

“Not who I was thinking of, but I suppose she fits what I mean,” she says calmly, once more cutting to rush him off just as a tirade was bubbling on his lips. She so effortlessly steers the conversation he can’t help but feel horribly small. “For as predictable as you objects can be, you’re different. Amusing. It should hardly come as a surprise that you’re viewed as something fascinating to us Algebrailians. We don’t have anything like you. So yes, Clock, you’re a toy. You, Ice Cube, Gaty, and Fanny, too.” She says the last name with a significance that makes his skin crawl, but he can’t imagine why. What importance does Fanny have that Ice Cube lacks? As far as he knows, their situation is nearly identical. “Is that really love to you?”

“I don’t think this is really rele-” he begins to protest.

“Answer the question, Clock,” she says lowly, her voice dropping an octave as it takes on the same intensity as her eyes. Seized by a fight-or-flight instinct, he tightly presses himself against the couch, breathing heavily.

“Yes? No? D-Does it really matter?!” he stammers, doubting each word as he says it.

“Well, I think it does,” One croons, her eyes wide and concerned. “I’d imagine love is as important to you objects as it is to us. Are you truly willing to waste your time with two people whose love could never be equal to yours, two people whom you fear above all else, when their interest could last your whole life for all you know? I would have thought time would be important to you, as a clock…” Each word is laden with significance, as if she’s trying to force them directly through his ears to his mind.

It’s not like she’s wrong, per say. There’s an inherent imbalance to his relationship with the two Algebrailians. Boundaries are difficult for them at the best of times, and they argue and bicker like his love can be won, if they just try hard enough. They drag him every which way, engage in activities he can’t help but find unnerving at best and horrifying at worst (seriously, what the hell is the deal with them ripping off their arms to impress each other and him? If he had arms, he wouldn’t treat them so poorly), and are generally unpredictable to the point of instability. Being with them is… culture shock, to say the least.

Except. Except, except, except. For as correct as One may be in this regard, there’s nuance to the matter. For one thing, Four and X really do try. They’re eager to learn, constantly pelting him with questions that he can’t help but roll his eyes at. They try their hardest to be receptive to what he wants, peppering him with compliments since the moment he let slip that his preferred love language is words of affirmation. They make him feel loved and wanted and remembered, and for all that he doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, he stays with them because they make him happy.

Ugh, wait, hang on, saying that they make him happy is way too sappy. It’s not necessarily wrong, but there’s nuance. Their actions make him happy, not them themselves. It’s not- he doesn’t really- with everything with Winner- well, they don’t want him. Not in the same way he wants them. So it’s… complicated? Sure, let’s go with complicated.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he grits out, his voice firm and clipped.

“You think I don’t understand?” she parrots, a wide, vicious grin spreading across her face. “As if I’m not acquainted with Four and X. As if I haven’t been told so many things about you directly from them, things that don’t paint the best picture of them viewing you as remotely an equal…” She trails off, letting the smile fall from her face as her words hang in the air, before shrugging. “But you’re right, this isn’t relevant. So let’s get into the true reason why I brought you here, shall we?”

The whiplash makes his head spin as he lets out a choked, confused noise. “Then what was the point of-?!” he begins to hiss in frustration, but he’s stopped short when she waves her hand, formed of magic, and produces a contract, seating it down on the table dividing the two. That thin sliver of wood is the only division he has from her, and now not even that is safe, the contract deposited upon it like a threat or promise of sorts.

“I’m interested in making a deal,” One croons. “Of course, that should hardly come as a surprise to you. But this deal can benefit us both.”

“Do you really think I’m dumb enough to fall for that?!” he snaps impatiently. “After everything Ice Cube and Fanny told-”

“At least let me finish,” she replies with a pout. She’s one to talk, considering she keeps constantly cutting him off. “I’ll be honest, Clock. For as much as Four and X are interested in you, I hadn’t thought you capable of being an issue. You were far too wrapped up in your own problems for that. So I let Four and X have their fun with you. But then they brought you back, and Fanny had to get involved. I’m surprised that she seems to have grown a spine. That’s something to address later. And now…”

“Now?” he echoes, because at least this way he can get a word in edgewise. He decides he’s going to ignore what she said about Fanny for now, because she can probably handle that. Maybe. She does bite.

“Now you’re getting in my way,” she says evenly, tilting her head. “Taking back Icy from me was a low blow, you know. I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“She’s my friend,” he hisses. “I wasn’t just going to leave her with you.” He eyes One, who remains silent, and emboldened, he begins to continue. “And anyway-”

“Ice Cube is mine!” she snaps the moment he stops expecting it, and her voice is filled with such sharp vitriol that he can’t help but flinch back, breathing heavily as he stares at her. “Four and X can play with you all they want, but I have my own toys. What right do you have to take them from me?”

“Neither of them belong to you!” he retorts in frustration.

“They signed the contract. They agreed to anything I could have to offer,” she retorts airily. “What I do with them from there is none of your concern. Besides, dear Icy has been eliminated from Two’s show. What other role could she play save for one beneath my heel?”

The dismissive, derisive way she talks about his friend makes his blood boil, and he scowls. “As long as I’m here–hell, as long as Four and X love me, I won’t let you get to anybody I care about!” he yells. “You might as well give up now, because I won’t sign your damn contract!”

“Oh? I wouldn’t be so quick to claim that,” she calmly replies, slipping back into her calm, professional mask. It’s so fake he could gag on the saccharine sweetness. “You haven’t even heard what I intend to offer you yet.”

“What?” he snaps, his voice barely above a hiss. “What in the world could you give me that would make me turn my back on my friends?!” Protecting Fanny and Ice Cube is the only thing he finds he’s good for, at least at the moment. It doesn’t matter what One could offer (and he’s learnt that the pool is truly limitless with her), because stripping himself of his usefulness feels like a nightmare.

“Let’s forget Four and X for a moment, shall we?” she says with a smirk. “It’s no secret you don’t have a lot of interest in them. You feel trapped with them. Suffocated, as it were.”

“...I-I don’t hate the feeling of suffocation,” he tries to weakly defend, shuffling in place.

“Astounding what you objects can get used to, isn’t it? But I know you long to be free from it. I know you long for a little more than that, too.” 

Snapping the fingers on her detached hand, the TV screen turns on, displaying the interior of a room he assumes to be Book’s, based on the decor. In it sit Pillow, Book, Price Tag, Winner, and Yellow Face, and he recognizes the books, papers, and dice from his own sessions of Goikys and Dragons.

“...encounter a fearsome dragon, perched atop a pile of gold O.o! He lets out an ear splitting roar. Seems like he’s not going to give it up without a fight >~<... Roll for initiative ',:D!” intones Price Tag, their voice going from deep and foreboding to excited and inviting within the span of just a sentence. They’re really good at building tension. He can’t blame Just Not for preferring them as their dungeon master.

One waves a foot and the audio suddenly dies down, although the screen continues to move as it cuts to Winner. They look like they’re having fun, grinning at both Book and Yellow Face in equal measure. They never looked that happy with him. If anything, they always looked sort of nervous. He could never dream of blaming them for that, of course, because he pushed their boundaries uncomfortably far, but it still hurts. He still loves them. He doesn’t think that’s the sort of thing that will go away. If not reciprocation, he just wants them to be friends. That would be nice.

And yet, he screwed it all up. He’s really good at that. The two can’t even be in the same room together without the air growing violently tense, or so he views it. Just because they made up doesn’t automatically fix all the ways he hurt them. He knows that. He can’t expect things to automatically go on the mend for them, not when they don’t talk for months. But still, he wants… Just… Anything. He’d trade Four and X for them in a heartbeat.

“Don’t they look so happy?” One purrs, leaning against the arm of her chair. “Happy now that they’re free from you. All you ever did was make them uncomfortable and miserable. But of course, you know that.”

“Of course I do,” he whispers, slumping. No matter what he does, he just screws up, sending out all the wrong messages in the process. How the hell did he end up netting Four and X when he just wanted Winner? He doesn’t care about power, no matter how much the two try to show off. Winner is just so humble and so kind and so accepting, willing to give him a fresh start even after he nearly ruined things completely. They’re everything he isn’t.

“They would love to try to be friends, of course, so long as you put in the effort to change,” she continues with a hum, and Clock can’t help but shudder as the last word is uttered. “But you want a little bit more than that, don’t you?”

His face flushes with harsh warmth as he lets out a choked sound. “Y-You- T-That’s not-” he sputters all while One watches him, her expression drenched in amusement. Why is this the one time she decides not to interrupt him? “What does this matter?” he hisses in frustration.

“You’ve made mistakes. Mistakes that ruin even a friendship with them, much less what you want.” She smiles, and this one feels more real, sharp and wicked. He hates it. “Not to mention the mess with Four and X… Well, your chances of reciprocation are low. But I have a way I can fix that. All you have to do is sign this contract, and when you open your eyes, you’ll have everything you could ever want. Your old team would have never forgotten you. You would have never screwed things up with Winner, and they would feel the same way you do. Someone else would have been eliminated in your place so you two can compete alongside each other and you would have never have become entangled with Four and X. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

Her words take on a breathy, amazed quality to them as she widens her eyes at him, smiling all the while. As ashamed as he is to admit it, he had found himself becoming swept up in One’s words. Because he can’t stop himself from wanting. He can’t stop himself from loving. If all of the things that had caused him to spiral had never happened, if he hadn’t gotten obsessed with the idea of being remembered and thus fearing being forgotten, if he hadn’t pushed way too far with Winner, if he never had to deal with Four and X-!

God, doesn’t that all just sound amazing? He can’t help but feel a muted sort of awe as he contemplates it, unable to fully bite back his smile at the idea. He could remain in the game, remain at Winner’s side, instead of being shoved away in Two’s pocket dimension, where people have long since stopped thinking of him. He could be loved by an equal, by a person, and just as equally reciprocate that love.

But… If he did that, it wouldn’t be… “So… what?” he whispers. “If I sign this contract, you can just make all of these things happen for me?”

“So long as you stay out of my way, I can give you anything you want,” she says invitingly.

The idea is tempting. Horribly so. He can’t help but get the feeling that he’s on the verge of making a deal with the devil. “Winner will love me,” he numbly mumbles. “That… would be nice. But if they fall in love with me because of a contract, does that… really count?” His breath hitches as he stares down at his lap. “It wouldn’t be real. I wouldn’t be what I want!”

One tilts her head as she appraises this. “If I included in the deal that you’ll forget that a life where you could actually be happy was something you had to sign a contract for, would you be happy with that?” she prompts leadingly.

“I dunno,” he whispers, curling in on himself. “I-I don’t-!”

“It’s an easy choice, Clock,” One says, an impatient edge to her words. “You can finally be happy, and better yet, free from Four and X. They’d take up all of your life otherwise, and we both know that. All you have to do is keep to yourself and stop trying to spoil my fun.” The last five words come out as a hiss that makes him flinch back. She seems to notice this, because her smile takes on a sheepish edge that feels entirely fake as she shrugs unrepentantly. “Honestly, Clock, you should feel glad. I’m never this generous. You wouldn’t want to spurn me, would you? I’m sure Fanny and Icy can tell you that I’m not particularly agreeable when angry.”

He can’t help but let out an anxious whine even as he knows that showing such outright vulnerability is doing nothing but making himself an easier target. Algebrailians don’t respond well to weakness, especially not with how much they value strength. It’s literally one of the standards their culture is built around when it comes to romance.

But he’s not strong at all, as proven by the fact that he’s on the verge of being fucking swayed by One’s honeyed words, as if he can trust her. As if his happiness is truly so reliant on a piece of paper.

…He’s such a bad person. Winner would hate him if they knew he was even considering her offer. Forcing them to love him doesn’t make him real, no matter what he wants it to be. Either he earns it through change, which feels impossible when he’s so easily swept up by his wants and fears, or he learns to live with the ache of a one sided love. He’s been resigned to that.

And yet, here’s this contract on the table in front of him, offering to instantly fast track him into all he’s ever wanted in life. A team that remembers him, a shot in the competition, Four and X no longer being so obsessed with him…

Winner.

It’s easy. His life can receive the change he wants, but he himself doesn’t have to change to achieve it. It’s easy. Or it could be, anyway. He could have it all for just the measly cost of…

He’s considering it again. Why the fuck is he considering it? He has to turn down One’s offer right now before he manages to talk himself into something he can’t back out of. But the more he thinks about it, the less reasons to deny the offer come to mind. It’s all a question of morals. If he had any of those, he wouldn’t hate himself for being an awful person.

“I’m not turning my back on Ice Cube and Fanny,” he says, hating how his voice wobbles under the weight of its uncertainty.

“You don’t have to worry about them,” she says sweetly. “Breaking what belongs to me too soon would just be a bad investment.” She’s really not doing a job of making sure her intentions with the two are pure. How long can anyone last under the thumb of an Algebrailian being purposefully cruel instead of cluelessly? It doesn’t matter if they have fangs like Fanny or an iron will like Ice Cube. Eventually, they’ll be brought to heel, and Clock is startled by the realization that whatever One intends to do to them, he won’t recognize them when they’re done.

He won’t recognize himself if he’s just granted a life where he can be happy, because that isn’t him. Of course it takes thinking about himself to spur him into action, leaning forward to shove the contract off the table with grit teeth.

“I’m not signing your damn contract,” he spits.

“Stubborn,” she notes with narrowed eyes as she watches the contract float down to the floor. “Gaty was too, you know.”

He flinches at the mention of the missing object, the memory of Two laying listlessly in bed flitting through his mind. Their grieving, distraught expression suddenly becomes a hell of a lot more real to him, and as nonsensical as the thought is, he doesn’t want Four and X to be reduced to that.

“Do your worst,” he whispers, wishing he could sound more confident. “I don’t care what you have to offer me. I’m not signing your damn contract!”

“Hm.” One doesn’t look all too bothered by his declaration. “Well, that’s fine. As long as you continue to be a hindrance to my plans, I have no qualms with keeping you here as long as I need to.”

He just scoffs. “Four and X will come for me,” he says dismissively. “All I have to do is make it… what, a day with you? Ice Cube managed it, so I can too.” He folds one leg over another as he leans against the back of the couch, tossing her a smile that stretches uncomfortably across his face. To be honest, he’s unnerved by One, and he can’t help but worry about what she’ll stoop to for the sake of receiving his signature, but he can’t let any of that show more than he already has.

“A day?” One prompts, eyes comically wide as she folds one leg over the other, as if to mimic him. It makes her look at ease and in control of things all at once. What kind of power play is that supposed to be…? “Are you sure it hasn’t been longer than that?”

He squints at her. Maybe the widening of her eyes was meant to hide the slight intense glint that appeared in them, one that he thinks he can pick up on if he focuses hard enough. “Uh… yeah, I’m pretty sure?” he says dubiously. “I mean, I’m literally a clock. I can keep track of the time that goes by.”

One laughs at him, kicking one leg in the air as she does so. He squirms uncomfortably again. “Can you?” she says. “Tell me, how long have you been here?”

Usually, when people ask him what time it is, he just snaps at them to learn how to read analogue clocks, because he’s not going to be some cuckoo clock spitting out the time every hour. But he gets the odd feeling that One is testing him, and he doubts he’ll like what will happen if he fails. “Eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds,” he snaps, rolling his eyes. “You seriously think I wouldn’t keep track of that?”

“Are you sure it’s been that long?” she probes, and he bares his teeth in frustration. Usually when he does that, it serves as a sign for Four and X to back off, but One just smiles wider, as if she knows that she was getting on his nerves more than she already was. “Just when did I take you?”

“I-It was-” he stammers, before biting down hard on his tongue when he realizes how his voice wobbles. He can’t give her that satisfaction. “It was this morning. 8:12. The day after Four and X took me back from the elimination area. I fell asleep next to Icy.”

“And you’re confident?” One croons as she leans forward. The strange lighting in the room casts a shadow over her face, making her look intense and intimidating. “Are you sure you aren’t misremembering? How painful it would be for you, if you got a fact wrong and you were actually here for far longer than you believed. Wouldn’t that be proof that Four and X wouldn’t come for you?”

“Maybe it would be,” he relents, even if he knows that might end up being a mistake. “But I know how much time has passed. I wouldn’t forget a whole day or longer. Keeping track of time is the one thing I’m good at! So no. I’m not worried. I haven’t even been here for half an hour, I’ve been back in the real world for a day, and Four and X will come for me. Hope you didn’t mind some facts for you.” He smiles sardonically at her, but his smile falters when her own grin takes on a disquietingly sharp edge.

“So that’s it. You judge the time passing based on your clock hands?” One asks, and he finds himself reminded of Four and X to a disquieting degree. Always asking, always searching, always pelting him with questions as if that will be enough to bridge the gap between them.

“I have a pretty good internal clock too,” he says stiffly, haughtily jutting out his chin. His internal clock is good, yes, but it does better when it has things like a sky to judge the relative time. The rest of him relies on the consistent rhythm of each of his clock hands, to the point where he’s physically aware of each second, and can focus on it as opposed to letting the passing of it fade into the background noise of his general existence. He relies on that rhythm, that consistency. That’s why sudden changes make him feel so dizzy, and the feeling of being off the current time is so disorienting. His entire experience revolves around time. He doesn’t exactly do well when he’s suddenly thrown off of it.

“Yes, that’s just one of the many things Four and X have told me about you,” she muses, and he can’t help but fidget in discomfort as he’s all too suddenly reminded of the two’s collaboration with her. And they really can’t keep their mouths shut when it comes to him, so One probably knows everything about him.

…Everything, including his reliance on the consistency of time. Oh, shit.

Is that what she’s trying to do here? Confuse him into dazed disorientation, in which he’ll be so dizzy and panicked that he’ll end up signing the contract anyway? He likes to think he’s capable of keeping a level head, especially when the stakes are so high. Protecting the people he cares for is all he’s capable of doing. Why would he willingly give that up?

“Listen, whatever you’re trying to do here, it’s not working!” he snaps. “I know what time it is, I know how long I’ve been gone, and Four and X will come for me!” One’s smile just grows wider at that declaration, steely, unshakable confidence glinting in her dark eyes, and he can’t help but falter, drawing back as he breathes heavily. “They… They will.” he insists, even as his voice breaks. “Fanny and Icy will tell them that I’m- and they love me, they wouldn’t just leave me here! I-I’m not going to rot away here, so stop staring at me like that!” His eyes sting with tears as he breathes heavily, and he knows all he’s doing is leaving an opening for One to swoop in and take advantage of, but he can’t just sit there and take this.

She doesn’t respond to his words outright. She just lets out a hum, adjusting her position on the armchair. “If Four and X don’t come for you within a day, the odds are pretty low that they’ll remember to come for you anytime after that. They’re awfully scatterbrained, you know. I don’t exactly have faith in them…”

“They’ll remember me,” he hisses. “They kept sending me letters, and even after they couldn’t anymore, they remembered me well enough to bring me back to see me in person. It doesn’t matter how much time passes-!”

“Let’s test that, shall we?” One says calmly. “Time will pass, and perhaps your mind will change. You said it best yourself, after all; you know how much time has passed.” Her voice remains even and unfazed, but there’s a sharp, conniving edge to her that makes him breathe heavily, fear constricting in his gut.

“What are you going to-?!” he begins to cry, but he’s abruptly cut off by One summoning a hand made from energy and snapping her finger. The moment she does so, he sees a light turn on, reflecting inside the glass of his clock face. The light’s in him? But-

All of his thoughts drop abruptly from his mind as his clock hands begin to move. Immediately, he gasps, the feeling so invasive and wrong. He can’t help but scream as he squirms in place, desperate and terrified at the outright invasion of his body, his privacy, his mind.

His clock hands lurch to a stop a moment later, and he groans as he leans forward, letting out a nauseated groan. The rhythm is all off, the ticking of each second happening exactly when it shouldn’t. His clock is reading 2:01, so distinctly off from where it had been, but he knows clocks aren’t reputable, daylight savings is annoying. Time hasn’t passed. She’s just trying to throw him off.

“What the hell was that for?!” he barks, bristling in indignation. His head is spinning, but it’s not that bad. The day Four and X had spent messing around with his clock hands, laughing at his disorientation and excitedly trying to get him to do tasks in the kitchen while his vision spun and he felt on the verge of throwing up was decidedly worse. But at least he knew their intentions hadn’t been malicious. They had just been amused by him, watching him with such adoration that the most he could do was simply grumble about it.

One, though? Her intentions are far from kind. He needs to be on his guard as much as he can, keeping his wits about him as he tries to stop her from getting to him… which is a lot more difficult when his head is spinning and he feels like he’s going to be sick. The rhythm, it’s all– tock, tick, tock, tick– It’s wrong. If he was standing, he would be staggering around as his legs turn to jelly below him.

“Just testing,” she says with a hum. “Looks like you’re still pretty coherent, hm? But you look pretty dazed…”

“I won’t let you use that to your advantage,” he hisses even as he sinks into the chair. The back of the chair is far too plush and light, giving so easily into his weight that it doesn’t do anything to ground him. He just feels like he’s floating or caught in quicksand, and the uneven rhythm jabbing sharply at the back of his mind like a jackhammer doesn’t do much at all to help the sensation.

“Big words for someone who can’t even look at me,” she teases, and he grits his teeth as he tries to focus his vision. His eyes grow unfocused with each tick of his second hand, the rhythm the opposite of what he expects it to be. But it’s fine. He’s not so weak as to give in that easily. If he cares about Ice Cube at all-

Ignoring her entirely, he moves to readjust his clock hands by pressing the switch on the back that pops open his glass clock face. He gets as far as moving his foot toward his clock hands before One shuts the glass with a wave of her foot, causing a wince from him as his foot gets caught.

“Oh, no, we can’t have you do that,” she croons lowly. “Before we continue, Clock, indulge me for a moment. Just what time is it?”

He can’t help it–he hesitates. He opens his mouth to say something, but inevitably stutters, because he doesn’t really know. When did she start messing with his clock hands…? It couldn’t have been longer than five minutes ago, but two doesn’t really sound right. Neither does one or three, to be honest. He would be able to puzzle it eventually, he’s sure, if he didn’t feel like his brain was coated in honey and each tick of hand didn’t come at exactly the time he didn't expect it to, causing a painful feeling of vertigo echoing in his ears.

“Well, it hasn’t turned nine yet,” is eventually what he settles on, because the longer he’s silent the wider One’s smirk grows. “Hasn’t even been an hour, much less a day or two. That is your argument, isn’t it?”

“Hm.” She doesn’t look phased by his stubbornness. Her smile just remains on her face, far more real than it had been before. As a consequence, it feels a lot more terrifying, at least to him. He feels like he’s been backed into a corner, and no matter what he says, he can’t do anything to escape from it. “Very well.”

Then she raises a hand made from energy again and twirls it lazily in the air, and he grits his teeth at the horribly invasive feeling of his clock hands being moved. “Stop do-!” he begins, only to cut himself off with a gag at the next wave of debilitating nausea that runs through him.

It’s one thing to feel completely thrown off about the current time, unable to orient himself no matter what he tries, but it’s another thing entirely to feel his clock hands forced into motion and the culprit just sitting across from him, her coy smile unfeeling toward his current plight. It feels wrong, like an invasion staged against him. Worse yet, she doesn’t even have the decency to come over here and mess with his stupid hands manually, throwing him off all the more.

Sometimes, when he’s thinking too hard, his clock hands begin to spin from all the things that play on his mind. That leaves him feeling off kilter, too, but that’s entirely different in comparison to this glorified torture. At least that time, he’s… mostly in control of it, and as awful as his clock hands being off time can be, the sudden disorientation wrenching him from his thoughts always helps to keep him grounded.

Here, it’s the opposite. No matter what he tries to keep himself tethered, the nauseating feeling of the offbeat rhythm of each clock hand claws at the sides of his mind, and with each brisk rotation his clock hands make he can’t help but feel his brain growing slightly more scrambled with it. He feels like he’s floating away, losing track of everything.

No. No! That’s exactly what One wants. If he gets caught up in the horrible feeling of being off beat in just the wrong way, he’ll be easy pickings for her to have her way with. And he can’t forsake Ice Cube and Fanny like that. Their future relies on his resilience.

Maybe… Maybe if he acts unaffected, she’ll stop? When she stops moving his clock hands after what feels like an eternity, she leans forward, posing the question again. “What time is it?” she asks, unable to keep the hunger out of her words.

“I know what time it is,” he mumbles, wincing at the way the words somewhat slur together in his disorientation. “You don’t have to keep pushing me.”

“If you’re so confident, say the time,” she orders.

“It doesn’t- U-Um- It’s been a few minutes-”

“The time, Clock. In numbers.” she hisses, cutting him off with an impatient expression.

“Why do you need to know?” he mumbles moodily.

“To prove a point. And the fact that you remain coherent enough to string sentences longer than “yes” together is a problem in and of itself. Very well.” With a sigh, she moves around her finger again, and he can’t help but cry out, the feeling of invasion horrible in its proximity. He thinks he would prefer if roaming hands were dragged over his body, soft or not. At least that would only be physically uncomfortable.

He doesn’t know. He thinks he’s really missing Four and X about now, and not just because they would get him out of this situation in a heartbeat. Their touch could be overbearing at times, as the two were always obsessive in their clinginess. The fact that he’s more than used to the sensation of suffocation should say it all.

But for all their touch could be tight to the point of discomfort, they could also be surprisingly soft in turn. Sometimes, one of them would run a finger over his glass or his side, the touch so soft and reverent it made him shiver in pleasant goosebumps, because the feeling of being important meant more to him than anything. He never let onto how much he enjoyed it, of course, because the last time he did that he ended up drowning in more compliments than he had a clue what to do with, but he was never particularly against it, either.

This was just invasive and wrong, as if all the basic bodily functions he had come to rely on were being turned against him. It was horrible, but he could barely squirm. And anyway, what the hell is he expected to do against magic? If it were a limb, he could bite and kick, but magic has range. He’s helpless under its weight, and he doesn’t like that thought, obviously, but at the same time there’s something faintly satisfying about giving up control and offering it to someone else, even if he fears what they could do with it.

When she finishes, she leans back, uncaring of the way Clock feels like his head is still spinning even after she lets go of his clock hands. The sensation causes a strange sense of vertigo that makes his mouth go dry, and it takes One repeating her question of “What time is it?” several times earlier for him to even become aware of it.

“How do you expect me to know?!” he grouses in frustration. “My clock is all messed up and it’s always night here! What the hell do you expect from me?!”

“So you admit that time could have passed without you being aware of it?” she says, sounding bored.

“I-I mean, how much time?” he mutters. It’s obvious he’s losing time here, unable to keep track of any of it against his messed up clock and the discordant rhythms of his clock hands. But it’s minutes, not hours and certainly not days, whatever she wants him to believe.

“Isn’t that your job?” she challenges, tucking her legs against her chest as she makes herself comfortable. “If even you can’t tell, shouldn’t you admit by now that Four and X aren’t coming? You don’t matter to them. You won’t lose anything by signing the contract, and that’s your only way out of here.” She nudges the table, her expression turning insistent.

“Piss off!” he snaps in response. “I’m not changing my back on my friends, no matter what you do to me. N-Not even if you- ugh, shit.” He curses under his breath as he presses a leg against his head. Maybe he had leaned forward too harshly, but his ears begin to ring with the motion, and he briefly loses feeling in his legs.

One laughs, and before he gets any time to get his bearings, she waves his hand again, moving around his clock hands in all sorts of directions. The general sharp discordance from the motion paired with his already existent disorientation makes his vision go completely black for a moment as he lets out a choked cry, and he doubles over completely when he lets go of him. The velvet of the couch doesn’t do anything to help him focus, and the pain remains as debilitating as ever,

Every time she stops moving his clock hands, she always asks the same damn question. “What time is it?”

Every time, he manages to spit out something, even if his responses grow less and less coherent as time goes on. How much time…? Well, he’d be powerless to say. 

Every time, she’s unhappy with what he says, or maybe it’s his frustrated refusal that does it. Either way, she’s quick to reach for his clock hands once more, starting the cycle all over again and muddying his perception of time more than it had already been trampled.

This is what he always kind of feared with Four and X. The two of them deciding to use him as a punching bag to try all of their powers on, keeping him alive but in a perpetual state of delirious agony… Well, he’s suddenly glad that they’re benevolent, even if that’s a strange adjective to attach to them, of all people. Less glad that he’s actively experiencing this, though.

Time passes. It has to, it’s not like One can just stop it. But the question of how much time is completely up in the air. It’s split between a haze of pain and delirium as his clock hands are forced into rotation after rotation, his brain becoming more and more undone with each one, and One asking harsh questions that he’s long since been unable to answer.

Maybe this is all there is for him, and all there will ever be. Everything from before he was whisked away here fades away in the uneven rhythm pounding at the side of his head– tock, tick, tock, tick, it’s wrong– obscuring it all in a blur of haze. Maybe he’s just doomed to be trapped here, under One’s intense, animalistic gaze, until he finally breaks and signs the damn contract.

What loyalty does he have to people whose faces blur together in his mind? What does anyone matter to him when they aren’t here right now, easily disappearing through his grip before he thinks twice about it? What does he owe any of them when he’s here suffering in their steed? How is it fair?

And yet, he doesn’t break. He just doesn’t want to give One the satisfaction, really. And yet, it becomes harder and harder to think, her sharp words easily rushing to the forefront of his mind and molding his thoughts into something she surely prefers. Blearily blinking down at the contract as his clock hands are released, he wonders if signing it would be so bad if he could be freed from this torture.

“Clock,” One calls in a singsong, drawing his attention. “Come on, pay attention. I couldn’t have scrambled your brain that much. I just have a question for you, although I’m sure you know it already.”

“Just tell me,” he mumbles, letting out a watery sigh as he presses his head against the back of the chair and wishes he could just sink into it, disappearing entirely.

“What time is it?” she says, prompting him to scream in frustration.

“I don’t know!” he yells, eyes stinging. “I don’t know the fucking time! I’ve told you the same thing every time you’ve asked! Just leave me alone!”

“You don’t know?” One parrots, her eyes mockingly wide. “But you’re a clock, Clock. You have no other choice but to know. It’s all you’re good for.”

“All I’m…?” he echoes, her matter-of-fact words easily taking hold in his mind. He already knew that, of course; what use do broken clocks have? But to hear it said so confidently… It hurts in a way he didn’t know he was capable of feeling anymore, after his mind had been swept away in the haze of disorientation.

“Right! So come on now, answer the question. What’s the time? You have to tell me, or you’ll be thrown away and forgotten even more than you have been already,” she says smugly.

“I don’t know the time,” he says desperately, unable to help the tears beginning to trail down his face. “I don’t know anything. Just figure it out yourself- just stop- I can’t focus- I need-”

“But you need to know the time. It’s all you have to keep you sane, keep you centered. If you don’t know the time, how are you supposed to know how long you’ve been here? How are you supposed to know how long you’ve been waiting for Four and X to save you when they never will? If you don’t know the time, is there even a point to you being alive?” 

“I-I guess there isn’t one, then,” he whines, breath hitching at the admission. “Just make it stop- don’t touch my damn hands again- it’s all-”

There has to be. Otherwise you would have stopped fighting a while ago, and I wouldn’t have had to resort to this,” One explains with a morose shake of her head. “So what time is it, Clock? What time is it?” she probes, her voice sharp as it echoes in his ears.

“I don’t know!” he sobs, on the verge of hysterics. “Please, I don’t know! Stop, stop! I can’t think, I can’t breathe!”

“I’ll stop the moment you sign my contract,” she snaps, all pretenses of niceties having been completely dropped by this point.

He can’t focus on the damn contract, though, because everything is off. The rhythm, the time, the lighting- Is it night? Is it day? How long has he been gone? What time is it? “Please, fix it!” he sobs, eyes balled closed by this point. His vision keeps swimming with the force of his dizziness, and he knows he’s going to be sick, nothing is right and it’s all just-! “I can’t think, I can’t focus, I need my clock hands fixed!”

One is entirely unsympathetic to his plight. She just continues to stare at him, one leg folded over the other, and her eyes vast and cold. At least Four and X have some level of warmth, at least one can tell that there’s something there. But in One, there’s nothing. He doesn’t realize just how much he would miss the two of them until they’re gone. Are they gone? How long has it been? Did they forget about him, did they all forget about him? He can’t think, he needs his fucking clock hands fixed, and yet no matter how hard he sobs, One remains unmoved.

“The contract, Clock,” she says coldly. “Anything will do for a signature. And if you’re truly that desperate, I can add the correction of your clock hands to my terms.” She smiles, and it’s made of daggers. It’s all he can do to focus on her words, disorientation and the haze of panic choking him to the point where the edges of his vision grow black and fuzzy.

“Leave me alone!” he screams. Once more, he finds himself considering signing the contract once more, not for any hopes of happiness or love, but just so he can reorient himself and feel right again. This feeling of aching wrongness makes him want to be sick.

“Sign the contract and you’ll never see me again,” she promises, smiling. “Better yet, you’ll feel much better afterward, too.”

“D-Don’t-” he forces out through grit teeth. “C-Can’t… I-!”

“Why are you loyal to people who will never come for you?” One says with a sigh, shaking her head. “It’s pointless. Just live for yourself, Clock, honestly.” She eyes him for a moment before shrugging. “Looks like my words aren’t getting to you. I have no qualms about resorting to anything physical, though…” She raises her energy-formed hand once more, and icy fear runs through him, sharp to the point some of him can’t help but wonder if he had been stabbed as he sits up.

“I’ll sign it!” he hysterically screams out, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth from the ringing in his ears and from the way his tongue feels like a slab of cotton as it rests limply in his mouth. “I’ll sign it, just please- don’t- stop, please!” He can’t say anything else between the horrible disorientation and the sobs wracking through his body.

“Finally,” One sighs, drawing each syllable of the word out. “Took you long enough. But, ah, you would know how long it took for you to agree, wouldn’t you? Considering you’re a clock and all. Mind reminding me?” 

The only response he can muster to that is another sob. Even the idea of time makes him want to double over and dry heave. How did something so consistent, so predictable, so precious get wrenched from his grasp and violated so completely he can’t even find refuge in the concept anymore? When did he lose control? He just wants to find comfort in all of the things he loves about time again, but the uneven rhythm thundering through him serves to remind him how little power he has over it anymore.

One laughs, looking genuinely amused by him. “Of course, my mistake,” she says, smiling widely. “As for the terms of the deal… Well, as nice as it would be to grant you them, you were so horribly uncooperative. It hardly seems like I should reward you for all the trouble you’ve caused me, right?”

“My clock hands-” he manages to gasp out, because that’s truly all he cares about in this moment. Whatever was offered to him however long ago seems completely irrelevant in the face of this pressing, horrible violation against his very being.

“-will be included in the deal, don’t worry,” she smoothly replies. “The correction of your clock hands and the return to Four and X’s kitchen, where you belong, in exchange for you staying out entirely of my matters. Not the worst deal, don’t you think?”

“Just fix me,” he begs, voice cracking on the last two words. He buries his head in his knees, his legs feeling shaky and numb beneath him. He can’t bear to watch the world spin to the point where he can’t focus on anything, One and the rest of the room becoming a hazy, featureless blur.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chides, and he hears the rustling of paper moments before the contract is shoved into his face. “Contract first. All you have to do is move your foot just a smidgen. Do you think you can do that?” He lets out a high pitched whine in response. He can barely feel his legs, and the only reason he was able to bury his head in them was because he had begun to press them against his chest at… some point. The idea of trying to think about when that had happened makes him want to be sick. “Well, I suppose I can sign it for you. One moment…”

Between the gaps in his legs, he watches as she raises a blurry, detached blue blur in the shape of a hand, and he can’t help but whimper, icy fear constricting in his gut. Whenever she raises her hand made from energy, she always uses it to twist his clock hands in constant, dizzying loops that make him feel twice as disoriented and sick than he had before.

Instead, though, he feels his leg raise as it’s pulled gently toward the paper, and he can’t help but slowly blink at this new development. So it’s his leg instead of his hands? Or, well, clock hands. At least that’s less awful. His brain can only think in terms of what will cause less pain at the moment.

Just before his leg can be pressed against the paper, he hears a ripping sound that reminds him of… something. Faces flash through his mind, Cake and Nickel and Naily, all of their faces pale and drawn with fear as Four towers behind him in a portal forced open through the air. Ah, right, he had a life before this.

“One,” snarls the murderous voice of Four, scratchy and grating and something he never thought he would hear again. He’s so grateful he could collapse then and there, although that might have something to do with the fact that his legs feel like jelly and he can’t remember what it’s like to have a head that isn’t spinning.

“Four!” she happily returns, smiling even as her eyes narrow in obvious frustration. “As you can see, we were just about to sign a contract, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting until we finish…”

Seizing his opportunity, he shrieks out “Four, get me out of here!” He credits his coherency to the sudden rush of adrenaline that sears through him, paired with his heart leaping into his throat. His body knows just as well as his mind that Four is the one chance he has to get out of here, to fix his clock hands without compromising his freedom. He has to take advantage of that fact.

Immediately, the smile drops from One’s face, and the chiding reply she would surely offer to that is cut off as Four shoots a bolt of lightning from his fingers, leaving scorch marks on the side of the chair she sits on.

“Consider that a warning,” he snarls. “Me and X will be back to talk the moment I take back what is ours.” He wraps an arm around Clock, and he relaxes into the motion with a dazed smile, relieved to have something that can ground him after he spent so long practically sinking into that awful chair.

One’s pocket dimension warps around them as they suddenly appear into the kitchen with a pop that causes his ears to ring. Both Ice Cube and X, who had been standing with two distinctly different expressions of worry, straighten when they see him, X scrambling toward him.

“Clock, you’re back!” he says excitedly.

Four looks over to Ice Cube. “Watch over him for a moment,” he says dismissively. “We’re going to have words.” He lets go of Clock, depositing him onto the cold tile floor, before grabbing X, the two disappearing in a pop a moment later.

He gasps for air as he staggers forward. The air isn’t exactly fresh, but it’s far less stagnant than it had been in One’s pocket dimension. It feels like it’s filling his lungs, like it’s actually real. Like he’s real, and it’s fine, and it’s okay. But still, he doesn’t know for sure. His heart is thundering rapidly in his chest, and his clock hands are off even if he doesn’t know what time it’s supposed to be anymore, and he’s looking around the room wildly.

When he catches Ice Cube’s eye, he lurches forward as he breathes heavily. He knows he can trust her, he knows she’ll tell him the truth. He just needs-! “How long was I in there?!” he gasps out as he staggers forward, nearly tripping over himself in his disoriented panic. “How much time passed? What time is it?! I-I don’t-” He can’t help but hyperventilate as his legs buckle under him, knees buckling onto the cold kitchen tile. It feels so similar to how he was when he woke up and he was there in One’s grasp, his side cold from falling asleep on Ice Cube, not that he knows how long it’s been since then-

“What?” she cries, looking baffled. “Clock, what the hell? What’s going on?”

“How long was I there?!” he half-sobs, half-shrieks. “Please, I don’t know, I don’t know!”

“It’s- I don’t know!” she snaps, looking frustrated. “I woke up and you were gone! Me and Fanny looked around for you, but we couldn’t find you anywhere, so we thought One might have taken you, so we got Four and X-” She notices that her rambling isn’t making him feel remotely better. If anything, he’s growing more panicked, sobbing and gasping as he remains curled on the floor the longer she doesn’t give him an exact time. “-It hasn’t even been a day, is what I’m saying! If you were taken in the morning, it would have been an hour or two tops!” she cries.

Her words make him stop short, and he lets out a strangled gasp as he freezes. It hasn’t been two hours since he was taken? But… But his clock, and One’s words, and… He had thought… It was… “You didn’t forget me?” he whispers hopefully, even though he hates the way the feeling twists in his gut. “I wasn’t there for-? You got me out as fast as you could?”

Ice Cube’s expression breaks as she kneels, pressing herself against his side. “Yeah, Clock,” she murmurs in reply. “We remembered you and we fought like hell to get you back.” He can barely absorb the words, head still spinning under the force of his disorientation- the rhythm is so uneven he can’t even remember how it’s supposed to feel anymore- tick tock tock tick tick tock- Each movement of his clock hands makes him feel like hammers are slamming against the sides of his head, it hurts but-

He hadn’t been forgotten. Sitting next to him is proof of that fact. Would he be here without Ice Cube, advocating for him in the same way he had for her? He’s not sure. He’s terrified of having to rely on others so utterly, and yet at the same time, it’s thrilling having concrete proof that his absence will mean something to someone. He won’t ever be forgotten again.

While it would be nice for things to work like that, he isn’t so sure. For now, though, he’s too focused on the haze of panic to think on it further, easily struck from his brief, amazed reverie by the horrible, grating feeling of– tock tick tick tock tock– or is it the other way around-? Different entirely? He can’t tell anymore, it’s off, it’s off, he can’t fucking breathe without knowing it’s all wrong!

“Are you okay?” she whispers to him, leaning forward. He’s trembling, barely able to focus on her as his vision blurs, because for just a moment he was able to distract himself from the uneven rhythm but now it’s back again, stabbing at the side of his head with vehement force. He just leans against her as much as he can, because at least the cold, sharp and biting at his skin, helps center him. It can’t distract from the uneven rhythm– tick tick tick tock tock tick, maybe? It’s so off it’s hard to keep track–but it can somewhat center him, make him feel real. He’d love that.

Before the conversation can move any further, Four and X reappear with a pop. The former looks angry, his teeth grit together, while the latter looks nervous, wringing his hands. Both of them are quick to grow distracted when they notice the state he’s in, though. “Clock!” they both cry in shock, scrambling toward him and plucking him off of Ice Cube like he’s a bug to be moved. She gets to her feet, eying the two of them warily, but makes no move to stop them. Of course she’s scared of them, hell, he’s scared of them, but it’s… more complicated than he has the words for.

Four presses him tightly to his chest, and Clock groans, nauseated. Upon hearing the sound, he lifts him and examines him with a critical eye. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Clock?” X asks, brow furrowed in worry. He just wheezes, trying so hard to breathe, to shrug off the rhythm that’s supposed to be so soft and soothing beating at the back of his head like the worst migraine ever.

“What did you do to him?” he grits to Ice Cube, voice laden with rage, and she shrinks back, looking nervous, but tries to stand tall a moment later.

“I didn’t do anything, he came like this!” she snaps in reply. “Maybe it was your friend!” The two both frown at this, and emboldened, she continues “It’s not like she’s known for being gentle!”

Four gnashes his teeth together so loudly Clock swears they’re whittling down under the force. Meanwhile, X reaches forward and takes him from the other Algebrailian’s grasp, his grip a hell of a lot more gentle. He squints, leaning forward, before letting out a gasp. “Ohhhh, I know what’s wrong!” he says excitedly. Tapping at the glass of his clock, he blithely continues “The time on him is wrong. We know that messes him up!”

“You know that, huh?” Ice Cube retorts, her voice low and murderous. The two both shrink back–and if anyone could make Four and X scared it would be Icy, the most vengeful person this side of the Goiky Canal–guilty looks flickering across their faces, before Four clears his throat.

“Well, that’s easy!” he says confidently. “We know all about fixing that!” X adjusts Clock in his grip, letting his legs fall below him, not that Clock can even feel them. Four reaches forward, flipping open the glass panel with a latch on the back, and X sticks out his tongue in focus as he uses his other hand to set the correct time, holding the second hand in place just behind the top until the time ticks over to the next minute. The moment the time changes, X raises his hand, the second hand returning to ticking on its consistent, familiar, right rhythm.

He fixed the time just as Clock had taught the two of them, finding it easier to do when another person helped him. Most people screwed it up, too impatient to hold the second hand in place until the minute ticked over, but Four and X had listened with wide eyes and proceeded to do it right every time they needed to fix it.

It made him feel loved, seeing that they still remembered. That they cared enough to notice and to fix it properly. He’s so loved, here in X’s arms as Four leans forward to smile at him, and he can’t tell the feeling blooming in his chest amidst the remaining disorientation, but he thinks it might be- he’s worried about the chances of it being- if he admits it does that make it true-?

It’s fucking 10:24, so long as he’s correctly interpreting the drumming of the rhythm that does admittedly feel strange after so long of it being off. And when he throws a sidelong glance over to the stove clock, he’s relieved to see that he’s right. Jesus Christ. Barely any time had passed at all, and he had freaked out over it?

Despite his clock being fixed, he still feels dizzy and nauseated, panic rendering his heart thundering in his throat as he tries his best to just breathe. Readjusting to the proper rhythm of his clock hands will take some getting used to. He turns to look at both Four and X as he’s set down gently onto the floor, the two staring at him with wide, nervous eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in place. The two straighten when they hear his voice, and X rushes forward, crouching in front of him.

“Did we fix your clock hands right?” he asks anxiously. “I know you’ve shown us how to do it before, but I don’t want you to be in pain!”

“I’m fine,” he replies, staring at the ground. “Thank you. You did great.” Breathing heavily, he stares up at the two’s awed gazes. Has he ever complimented them before? Maybe he should do more than that, just to make sure he doesn’t ever have to go through any of that again.

Staggering forward, he falls between the two of them, pressing himself into the two of them with all of the force he can muster. Both of their hands come up to tightly wrap around him as they kneel to swallow him up with their bodies, tight and suffocating and desperately reassuring. If the breath is being forced from his lungs, he’s being loved, isn’t he? If he’s being clung to, he can’t be whisked away again? He needs the feeling of their arms around him, and finds he struggles to live without this just as much as their constant compliments.

“Please don’t let her take me again,” he whispers, his voice muffled as he keeps himself tightly pressed against the two Algebrailians. He feels them stiffen at his words, and he rushes to continue. “Please. I-I don’t care what deal you have with her, I can’t go through that again, it was awful!” He manages to lift his head enough to stare both of them in the eye. “If you love me, you’ll protect me.” Shifting anxiously in their arms, he mumbles “You do love me, don’t you…?”

He can’t bear the possibility of watching their expression change, hearing a denial bubble on their lips. So he looks down at the ground, swallowing dryly. He’s startled by the feeling of two hands cupping his cheeks and raising his head up. Four’s grip is firm and attention-grabbing, while X’s is soft and gentle.

“Of course we do,” Four says, his tone as unbreakable as steel. He grips onto Clock’s cheek like it’ll be enough to stop him from being taken again, while X’s tough is soft and light as one finger absentmindedly strokes the glass.

“We love you a lot, Clock!” X insists, before hesitating as he worries with his lip. “And… if we had known that One would have taken you, we would have protected you. We will protect you.” Even the softhearted X looks like he’s prepared to level mountains. For him.

“Can you promise?” Ice Cube cries, and Clock lets out a hiss through grit teeth. Does she really have to push further? Four isn’t exactly the sort to react well to criticism. “He was taken because you both-!”

“He was taken because he wanted you back!” Four snarls, letting go of Clock to lean forward and harshly glare at Ice Cube. She doesn’t shrink back but instead stands her ground, breathing heavily. “It’s your fault! If you know what’s good for you, you would-!”

“Hang on, hang on,” he hisses, disentangling himself from X to stand between the two of them. “Four, Ice Cube’s my friend. I wanted to protect her in the same way you want to protect me. I’m going to do what I can to protect the people I care about, regardless of what any of you have to say about it.” He glares at Four, waiting for him to challenge him, but instead he just crosses his arms and looks away, grumbling under his breath. “Ice Cube, it isn’t their fault.”

“But-” she protests, her voice small as she stares at him. “If it’s not-”

“It isn’t your fault either!” he insists. “I knew what I was getting into. Fanny knows One enough well to warn me about what could happen. I knew the risks. But I was willing to do it for you. And for myself, too. I’m not that selfless.” He frowns, looking away from her as Winner’s face flickers through his mind. He can never be that selfless, not when he’s always thinking about himself. By this point, he’s done what he can to accept it, because change is so hard he’d rather be with the people who love him no matter what as opposed to the person who could love him after he puts the effort in.

He doesn’t like to risk things on chance. And numbers are just as consistent as time, no matter how much the wild inconsistency of Four and X aims to overpower that. He knew he would be stuck with Four and X for as long as they kept interest in him, but now he’s actually starting to imagine a future, instead of just trying to get by. It’s… strange. But he doesn’t completely hate it?

“So you don’t need to fight,” he concludes with a sigh, looking away from her. “Because I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad. She just…”

“Knows exactly where to hurt you.” Ice Cube grimly concludes, swallowing, and it’s then he’s reminded that she had been with One too, for several hours longer than he had been. And if he was able to end up like that from just a bit of time with her…

“Are you okay?” he asks, something lurching in his stomach as he leans forward, eyes wide. “I-I mean- you were- and she was- did you-?”

“I’m fine, Clock,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. She glances at Four and X, the look in her eyes guarded, before she strides past them with practiced nonchalance. “I’m going to grab Fanny and go up to her room. You know where to find us when you’re ready.” Her eyes flick between him, Four, and X, disapproval coming from her in waves, but she doesn’t say a word. He appreciates that more than she knows, offering her a shaky smile. She just rolls her eyes and storms out.

The moment the door swings closed behind her, Four and X rush to swarm him, their eyes wide and concerned. Their words overlap each other as they rush to speak, asking if he’s okay, if he’s mad at them, whatever. He cuts them off by baring his teeth at him, the motion more exasperated than defensive. And isn’t it strange that he finds he can actually feel fond of the two of them?

It’s strange. But when he sat there in One’s pocket dimension, her voice growing louder and louder as her questions grew incessant and discordant, it was… well, painful for a start. But the entire time, there had been an undercurrent of desperation to him, praying to anything that would listen that Four and X would come for him, that their love was stronger than One’s power.

In the end, he had been proven right, and that fact was as satisfying as it was terrifying. They loved him enough to go against someone like One, and the physical power she lacked was more than made up for in her near-terrifying knowledge, because she was able to stare at him and dissect him with his eyes to discover just what made him tick. If they could go against her for his sake, then they… they…

Swallowing, he stares up at Four and X. “I’m fine,” he says wearily. “But, I, ah, wouldn’t mind another hug…?” Flushing, he stares down at the ground, only to tentatively look up a moment later, soaking in the two’s awed expressions like a sponge. They don’t even say anything before scrambling forward and scooping him up in a hug, and he just laughs at the tight, pressing feeling as he takes shallow breaths. This feels like the one safe place left in his world, with One lurking in every shadow and always watching.

“Thanks,” he whispers, pressing himself against them as much as he can. “This is nice. I, um…” There’s no going back from here now. The moment he says the words that have been resting on his tongue, he’s never going to be able to pry himself apart from the two of them ever again. Is he really ready to handle that?

He’s going to be stuck with Four and X anyway. He might as well enjoy their presence as much as he can. He wants to be happy. He wants to be selfish and not have to deal with the pained glances thrown his way as a result. He wants to fear only Four and X, who he's come to predict and grow used to, instead of the shadow One casts over all of them whether they’re aware of it or not.

Clock wants this. He knows full well the time is going to pass anyway, with the two remaining at his side. Why not enjoy it?

“I love you!” he blurts, before immediately sagging in relief the moment the words leave his mouth. There. That wasn’t so hard, right? All he did was… say something he can’t take back… to the two most volatile people he knows… whose moods swing as fast as his second hand ticks… who have killed him before. Not daunting at all.

Just as he begins to wonder if he should rush to take his words back, Four and X’s expressions of complete gobsmacked surprise, jaws falling from their faces, shift to the most joyous expressions he’s ever seen on anyone, and that’s taking into account the two’s exaggerated expressions. They look thrilled and overjoyed and so overwhelmingly grateful he’s not entirely sure how to feel. Is there a chance he’s misinterpreting it? Guessing when it comes to the two of them is-

His thoughts are brought to a screeching halt as he’s quickly grabbed by the two of them, and he lets out a choked wheeze as he’s hugged tighter than he’s ever been hugged before. It knocks the wind out of him, and he can’t help but grumble in frustration even as the two excitedly cheer and yell.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to us!” X cries, looking overjoyed as he buries his face in Clock’s glass.

“Say it again, say it again!” Four says excitedly, bouncing up and down as he excitedly grins at Clock.

“I’m not a parrot!” he protests in dismay. The two’s grins don’t fade, though, so eventually he just rolls his eyes and reluctantly grumbles “I love you.” The two’s cheers become louder, if that’s even possible, and he just sighs as the two pass him around excitedly, occasionally holding him up to their face and asking him to say it again, which he does eventually relent to with a sigh.

The two become increasingly overjoyed with every insistence of his love, to the point where they begin to bounce off the walls, and at some point, he has to put his foot down. “Okay, okay,” he grumbles, baring his teeth at X, who immediately sets him down, smiling widely. “I’m… going to go meet up with Icy. I’ll be back. Tonight, probably. Bye.” At Four and X’s excited, hopeful expressions, he rolls his eyes and flatly adds “Love you.” He leaves the kitchen to their cheering, and as he walks forward, looking over his shoulder and closing the door, he slams face first into something and scrambles back, blinking.

Ah. It’s Fanny, staring at him with narrowed eyes and a critical expression.

“Um… hi?” he says tentatively. “Is Ice Cube in your room, still, or-?” He feels his heart lurch in his chest and he nervously leans forward. “D-Did something-?”

“She’s fine,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. “I just wanted to tell you I don’t approve.”

“What kind of shovel talk is th-?”

“I mean it!” she yells, stopping him short. “I know it may seem like nothing to you, like I’m overreacting. But it doesn’t matter how you feel about Four and X. The differences between you and them are too vast. They can never love you in the same way, if you love them at all. You’d be better off if you got up and walked away while you had the chance.”

Her words strike an uncomfortable word with him, and after a moment he realizes why. She’s nearly mimicking what One had told him earlier, word for word. While the Algebrailian’s words had been silky and poised, hers feel startlingly genuine, as if she’s speaking from the heart. As if she’s trying hard to warn him about something she herself has fallen victim to.

He’s sick and tired of people trying to warn him about the decisions he makes with who he loves as if they know better than him, though. What does it matter that there’s such a wide gap between him and Four and X? They’ll find a way to bridge it anyway. Who the fuck cares how different they are?!

“What kind of conversation is this?!” he hisses, puffed up in indignation. “What makes you think you have to stick your head in any of my business? I can do what I want, so mind your own business!”

“I don’t want you to do anything stupid,” she says, voice flat and analytical as she keeps her eyes narrowed.

“I know what I’m doing, Fanny!” he snaps, at the end of his rope. “Don’t worry about it!”

“I hate not worrying about it!” she screams in his face, spittle flying from her mouth as her eyes ball closed. “I hate your overconfidence, and I hate knowing that a lot worse is going to happen to you than just a broken heart!”

“How do you know?!” he retorts. He can’t yell louder than her, but maybe he can use logic to feel like he’s winning here. “What do you know about Four and X?! How do you know they don’t love me?! What do you know about anything at all, and why should I bother with your stupid warnings?!”

“Because-!” she begins, but her voice cracks on the last syllable and she leans back, looking chastened. “This is stupid. There isn’t any point. I’m too far-” She cuts herself off with a firm shake of her head and storms off.

As she walks off, something occurs to him. Something wild and ridiculous and impossible and dumb, and yet it would be something that would perfectly explain Fanny’s behavior up to this point. Not just from today, but from yesterday, too. It wouldn’t make sense, because she should know better.

He should know better than to be in love with Winner, but he can’t help himself. Love doesn’t make sense. And if he’s right…

“Which one?” he calls after her, causing her to go careening to a stop. He can’t see her face, but she’s breathing heavily, the rise and fall of her shoulders laborious.

“Which one what?” she retorts without turning back to look at him. Her voice is steely enough without a harsh look in her eyes to go with it.

“Which Algebrailian are you in love with?” he elaborates.

He waits for a denial, a laugh, a scoff, maybe even outright anger at that being what he assumed. Because how could that ever be the case? Someone being in love with an Algebrailian is ridiculous enough, but someone like Fanny? She’s pragmatic and pessimistic and sensible, so how could she ever-?

“The only one who will never love me back,” she whispers. The moment the last word leaves her mouth, she darts forward, scrambling off in the distinctly opposite direction of her room.

Ah. So that’s how it is, then.

As curious as he can’t help but be, it’s obvious she needs the space. So instead, he throws a sidelong glance over his shoulder back to the kitchen. He might as well give himself what she can never have, for her sake. Or maybe it’s more for his sake, and he’s just being as selfish as he always is.

Ice Cube, he decides, can wait. Instead, he’s going to turn on his heel and throw himself into the arms of Four and X and let himself be happy for once, because it’s hardly his problem that Fanny isn’t.