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To exist is a lonely thing.
A vast empty space separates everyone who walks the face of the earth, the distance between beings even greater than the physical space that lies between them. And even when, through arduous physical effort, a physical connection is made, there is no guarantee that minds and souls will do anything but briefly brush. Yes, to be a physical thing loving another physical thing is an exercise in futility.
How much harder, then, when you are not a physical thing.
Felps square did not know when it began. These things are difficult to define when you yourself are defined by the absence of something else. The first thing that it could remember was that it existed. The second thing it could remember was that it was alone.
The difference between a cave and a square may not seem like much on the surface. Both were fundamentally similar: a lack of blocks in the ground. The difference rested in the intent. Caves were not created, they were generated. There was no thought behind them, and so they lacked identity, purpose. Part of the environment, nothing more. There were many caves, weaving through the rock and soil that defined the edges of the square. But there was only one Felps square.
When you are a square, time is a bit unimportant. Sometimes there are people (far too small to matter, far too tangible to understand you), sometimes there is nothing but the endless cycle of sun and moon. Every so often you become deeper. The absence inside grows, painfully slowly. And nothing else changes. Nothing else ever changes.
It was daytime. And then it was nighttime. And then day again. And Felps square felt something different.
“Who are you?” It called out, in that lack of speech that only it could understand.
“I’m a hole, I think.” Something replied.
Something replied..?
Felps square didn’t speak for a while after that. Hours, maybe. Days, probably.
“I’m a Tubbo hole!” It offered, helpfully.
“That’s not the same as a square.”
“It seems similar enough for us to talk!” And while Felps square couldn’t necessarily argue with that, it didn’t mean that it had to agree. So it settled into the same comfortable silence it had grown so familiar wit-
“How long have you been here?” The Tubbo hole asked, without even waiting for a day-night cycle to pass. “Or, sorry, that might be hard to know. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here and I just got made. You were made too?” Felps square scoffed incredulously at the question. Of course it was made. What a stupid thing to ask. It settled, comfortably prepared to spend the next eternity ignoring this unwelcome interloper.
“Do you have a name?” It asked. So many questions. But this one gave the square pause. No one had ever asked. No one had ever acknowledged that it was conscious, that it existed. For so long, it had been content to have an internal identity, forever lacking anyone with which to share it. Would it really be so bad to be known?
“...I’m the Felps square.”
“Hello Felps square!”
And Felps square did not have a heart, so it did not skip a beat. It had no cheeks that could have turned red with heat, so they did not. There was no body to move or way to react, so it did not. And Tubbo hole did not have eyes to see so it did not avert them. They both said nothing and the lack of communication was received fluently.
---
Tubbo hole was new. It did not remember not being, but it remembered the becoming was fast. The first thing it could remember was that it existed. The second thing it could remember was that it was not alone.
When you are new, everything else seems new as well. Every mountain and cliff and ancient weathered rock could have been created the day before with you, and it would make no difference. But mountains couldn’t talk. And whatever was out here with Tubbo hole could. That meant that Felps square, as it would eventually discover was its name, immediately became the most interesting thing in the world to Tubbo hole.
But Felps square didn’t seem very interested in Tubbo hole. It made a little sense, it supposed. It didn’t know much, and it was very excited about not knowing things. Felps square knew lots of things, though. It knew what the orbs in the sky were, it knew the names of the creatures that would fight and die within their absent bodies. It knew how to wait. Maybe that patience was something that would come with time. Maybe it was a difference in how they were made.
But Tubbo hole was not patient.
It asked questions, so many questions, to Felps square, and it wanted to know the answers now. Felps square didn’t seem to understand this. It would say nothing, for hours, or excruciating days. Felps square didn’t seem to care that every second spent in silence was agony for Tubbo hole. There was one being, one creature in the whole world who could understand what its life was like, and it spent most of its time determined to ignore the hole entirely. Sure, the knowledge was nice. Learning was an exciting experience! But more than that, something inside of Tubbo hole ached for the square’s attention. But it didn’t talk about that. Better to not ask for more, than overstretch, and potentially alienate its only companion.
“What do you think will happen to you when you’re finished?” The Tubbo hole asked. It was nighttime, the moon illuminating the dark deepslate and bedrock on the edges of the hole.
“I’ve never thought about it. I guess I’ll just be done.”
Silence, again. Stretching on, and on. Tubbo hole readied itself to wait for the rest of the night, at least. It didn’t have to wait nearly that long though, as the square began to speak, hesitantly.
“...What’s it like to be complete?”
Tubbo hole sat in a stunned silence for a beat. This felt different than the other brief conversations the two had held.
“...It doesn’t feel like much. I almost wish I had been built to grow. At least you have something to look forward to. This is it for me, I am exactly the way that I’ll be for… well, forever.” Felps square didn’t react, silent and impassive as always. Tubbo hole took the chance to continue.
“Maybe that’s why I want to learn. The only way I can grow bigger than myself is to learn about the things that I’m not. Maybe it’s why I want so much. Because I need something outside of myself. Because I’m going nowhere.”
“Don’t talk like that-” Felps square briefly interjected.
“I’m not! My borders are set! I’ll never be any more than this! So all I can do is stay here, and wait, and want! I want so much it hurts, and I’ll never get any of it.” Maybe this was getting a little too personal, but Tubbo hole couldn’t find the strength to stop.
“Tubbo hole-”
“I am NOTHING! I’m an empty pit in the ground, and the only other person who could understand me doesn’t even want me back!”
Tubbo hole quickly stopped talking, but the words had already been spoken. The damage was done. The moon hung low on the horizon, light dimly casting shadows over the land. How long had it been? How long had Felps square been there compared to Tubbo hole. How fast was Tubbo hole able to ruin everything? It wanted nothing more than to be filled with dirt, relegated to the role of a bad memory instead of a bad present.
“Have I told you about the cave systems?” Felps square broke the silence, jolting Tubbo hole back to reality.
“We aren’t the same as them, exactly. They’re naturally generated terrain, so they don’t share our level of consciousness. But, in a certain way of looking at things, they’re similar to us. Like… cousins, almost.” Tubbo hole listened, clinging to every word. “The caverns that branch off from me… They aren’t a part of me, they’re outside of my borders. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t still feel them.”
Felps square’s words rang true. Thinking about it, Tubbo hole could feel the tendrils coming off its form, reaching deep into the earth around it.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about those caverns. Searching for… I don’t know. Something. Something that isn’t me. And it took a very long time, but if I follow a very specific path, I end up somewhere very specific. A deep hole.” Felps square paused, unsure how to continue.
“I think if you reach out… You’ll find you’re less alone than you feel.”
Utterly shocked, Tubbo hole took time to process what the square had just told it. Sure enough, down one of the many branching tunnels that bisected its body, it felt a familiar presence. So much closer and more intimate than its words had ever felt. Tentatively, achingly slow, it reached back.
Tubbo hole did not have hands, and so they did not reach out and cling to those of Felps square. The two did not have eyes, so they did not watch the sunrise light up the sky. What they did have, despite the mountains and walls between them, was each other.