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Two hasn’t been eating.
Obviously, it wouldn’t take a genius to come to that conclusion; Four caught on pretty quickly, after all (and it was kind of hard to ignore the untouched food bags that were accumulating on the bedside tables).
It also doesn’t take a genius to figure out why that is.
The first few days were…fine, Four supposes, though the definition could be stretched to fit what they think would have been “fine behavior” for a sulking algebralien.
And that’s what Four thought it was. Sulking. Two lost their best friend; of course they would be sad for a while. Four was the same way with X, but they eventually reunited, and everything was okay after that. Why wouldn’t Two and…Gaty, was it? Why wouldn’t the same thing happen with them?
Days became weeks; weeks became months, and in those months, Two hadn’t moved from their bed. Barely even twitched, really. Four was at a loss. X was even more concerned.
At first, they both assumed that Two just… got tired of hosting. (“Maybe the contestants are too much for them?”). It wasn’t a theory that came completely out of left field; the objects had their own eccentricities—a simple contest with them could turn into an impromptu trip to space. Maybe Two couldn’t keep up anymore.
But then, wouldn’t Two have verbalized that? Holing up in one of the hotel’s rooms and refusing because they didn’t want to host anymore would have been uncharacteristic, at the very least.
The best course of action that Four and X could think of was to continue the competition as unofficial hosts after deciding to ask Two what was wrong (which, in hindsight, they should have done in the first place).
“She’s gone.” That was their only answer. They didn’t even look at Four and X. Their voice was meek; hoarse, like that was the first time they’d talked in a while.
Or maybe it was from crying. Their eyes did look red.
But who was she, and why was she gone? The only contestant that Two consistently talked to—and talked to Four about, although Four checked out of most of those already one-sided conversations—was Gaty.
Four knew who Gaty was. How could they not? She was a big help in the kitchen, and while Four never actually said thank you, their gratitude was apparent. The only thing that Four couldn’t wrap their head around was why she was suddenly gone.
Most of it made sense when they saw the photo, the one with Two and Gaty, except…
There was no Gaty.
And without Gaty, there was no Two. At least, not the larger than life Two that Four had (un)fortunately come to know.
Four realized that Two and Gaty wouldn’t reunite. After only a minute or so of observation, the picture made that abundantly clear.
After that, it didn’t take as long for them to realize that Two wasn’t sulking. Not really.
Gaty was gone, and so was Two, in a way.
And Four? Four wasn’t exactly trying to piece Two back together—they don’t even know how long that would take—but they’d be damned if they allowed the other algebralien to, well, rot. Especially in a messy room.
Four’s routine is methodical, and very efficient. A snap of their fingers and the bedsheets are clean.
The food is a different story.
They could snap that away as well, but one of the fresh bags catches their eye.
Untouched.
Four glares at Two, but the look lacks its usual heat. “You haven’t been eating.” It’s an accusation as much as it is a statement. Two doesn’t respond, and Four doesn’t expect them to. Even so, Four still asks, “Why?”
Silence. Painful, familiar, agonizing silence. Four doesn’t stand for it. They step closer and poke one of Two’s arms. “Two.”
Still no response, but Two shifts almost imperceptibly. Four sighs. Okay. They could just get rid of the bags and leave. Two obviously has no intention of responding to Four; why should they keep trying and hoping for a different result?
But they look at Two, really look, and pause at the subtle hitch of their breath. Then another.
Meek. Hoarse. Crying.
Except there aren’t any tears.
Four already doesn’t know how to deal with crying, let alone tearless crying. Their first thought is that, if there aren’t any tears, then Two’s already cried so much already that there’s no more water left in them. Or is it eye water? Whatever.
Their second thought, unfortunately, is to stay. They almost run a hand down their face, cursing their traitorous mind, but they begrudgingly sit down, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Two’s body, but not that they’d be touching each other.
Two sniffles, and Four doesn’t do anything except listen. Eventually, their eyes drift to the food bags again. They look back at Two.
“Do you want to eat?”
No response. Four sighs; they really need to stop asking questions. Is this how Two felt?
But, unexpectedly, Two looks away from the ceiling and looks at them. Two, with their puffy red eyes and labored breaths. Two, who had, up until then, done a fairly good job at ignoring Four, who blinks at them.
“…You're not gonna say anything?”
And…no response.
Again, Four sighs. At least Two looked at them, they suppose. They cross their legs, elbows resting on their knees, and look at the photo. Two follows their gaze.
Four’s teeth sink into their lip. They should leave. They tell themself that multiple times, but every time, they stare harder at the picture.
Then it clicks. Slowly, painfully, they understand a bit better.
“She was like your X.”
“…Yeah.”
Two’s voice, when it comes, surprises Four. It’s a whisper, barely audible but loud enough in the silence of the room.
“Yeah,” they echo. They should leave it at that, but… “I don't know what I would do if he disappeared. Or what he would do if I disappeared.” A half-hearted shrug lifts their shoulders. “I know we’d both miss each other. Maybe Gaty misses you, wherever she is.”
Maybe she’ll come back.
Four doesn’t say that. They’re not even sure if they believe it. Two hums dismissively and goes back to staring at the ceiling. Four thinks that that’s the most they’ll get out of the other algebralien for now.
They stand and clear their throat. “You need to eat,” they insist, voice firm, “I don’t care if it’s tomorrow, or a week later, or a month later, just…what would Gaty tell you to do?”
The last part slips out unintentionally, but Four doesn’t backtrack, despite the way their chest tightens when Two looks at them again—quicker this time. Four’s eyes narrow. “Well?”
“She…” Two’s voice cracks, but they push on. “She would want me to eat. 'Two, you shouldn’t let yourself waste away,' or something.” They let out a short laugh, small and sad. “I can hear her saying that.”
Four nods decisively. “So, what are you gonna do?”
“I…I’ll eat?”
“Exactly.” Four reaches for and sets one of the fresher bags near Two’s side, just so that they don’t have to move much. “You don’t even have to finish it.” Their voice softens; they tilt their head imploringly. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for Gaty.”
“…Right.” Two exhales sharply, looking at Four with. “For Gaty.”
Four’s lips curl in the ghost of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly. “At least you won’t be wasting perfectly good food.”
That gets another laugh out of Two, still small but more genuine. “Thank you, Four.”
Four falters for a moment. Then they mutter something that could have been a You’re welcome. Their voice trails off as they leave the room, but pride blooms in their chest.
They should check on X. Just to make sure he hasn’t disappeared.