Chapter Text
If someone were to ask Gaty what it’s like to date Two, or any Algebralian in general, really, her response would be quick and succinct: it’s not for the weak.
Oh, sure, it’s not like she isn’t enjoying her time with Two. They’re a dear friend, first and foremost, even if recently they’ve become… more than that, as well. But she wishes she had a greater idea of what she had gotten into when she had sat down on that armchair next to them and made mindless small talk for most of a challenge, befriending them before she had even been aware of the meaning her actions had.
Sure, she was aware how strange and alien their most recent round of hosts were. Gaty’s only hosts, considering she had only become involved in the seemingly-endless wave of game shows with BFB. Four and X were capable of and more often than not did the most outlandish things that not even the more strange objects were capable of. When Two had crashed into the competition grounds, she had expected more of the same with them. At least limitless power was more appealing than a BFDI.
But they could be surprisingly go with the flow and grounded, after everyone, uh… beat them up a little bit. She winces when she thinks about that, but at least they bounced back, no problem. She doesn’t actually think it’s possible to kill an Algebrailian, not in the traditional sense. Even if it was, they can be slippery, or Two can be, anyway. She learnt that when trying to catch them for the cooking challenge. So they didn’t have much to worry about other than the frustrated contestants more than willing to take things out on them, which… she felt a little bit bad about.
Unrelated to that, though, was the thought of death. Or maybe life would be a better word for it? Point was, reminiscing on Two’s death, something spreading so far in the future if it would even happen at all made her feel faintly sick. Algebrailians and objects, two entirely different races with distinctly different cultures, views, abilities… lifespans.
In all of Two’s rambling stories, twisting around each other in dizzying, disconcerting loops, she always can’t help but get the sense that they’ve seen far more than anyone else could ever be capable of. With the ability to hop between planets on a whim, limitless power, and a lifespan that stretches out endlessly into the horizon, how could they not have seen numerous things? She’s kind of jealous, honestly. Her own life and capabilities feel so worthless when weighed against Two’s own, although they would never want her to feel like that.
They talk about the earth with fondness, but there’s a detached, numbed pain buried within their words. Light enough that they bring it up in the first place, but heavy enough to remain even now, when surely so much time had to have passed. She’s tried to breach the topic with as much lightness as she can, asking what Two’s done whenever they make their way to Earth, but their explanations are confusing and circular, all lacking in detail.
They talk about small villages and helping to till farmland and level forests with a wave of the hand. They talk about excitedly sitting in place as the pyramids were built and how quickly the time passed. They talk about the shock of seeing a car for the first time, and the astonishment at seeing a plane. They talk about being proud about how the world developed, even if they remained as a background observer for a long time. (“How long?” “I dunno, the time kinda blends together after a bit. You all are the first objects I’ve ever made an effort to properly talk to since small villages were still the norm! I’m glad I made contact when I did.” And then they had smiled, and her worries had gone away for a moment or so, because she liked seeing them happy.)
They talk about being revered as a god in the same breaths they talk about being rejected and chased away by fearful objects, and Gaty marvels at the sheer difference between them, a massive gaping ravine that’s impossible to fully bridge. She loves Two, and somehow they love her, too, but that doesn’t erase the fact that the two are from completely different worlds.
Gaty is easy to talk to. She sort of prides herself in that. She’s able to look at anything no matter how small it is and spin a conversation from it without a second thought. That’s how she befriended Two and so many others, and she’s sure that will be how it happens in the future, too. She won’t ever complain about that, of course, but she can feel the way it begins to wear on her. She takes all the burdens of others and presses them tightly to her chest, wading them up and storing them along with her own burdens so she doesn’t forget them.
Which is all well and good. Ultimately, it’s not as if she minds it too much. She likes to help out her friends where she can. But sometimes she wonders what her own burdens even are, outside of her taking on her friends’ problems. Two rants about anything under the sun, Saw worries about how her inhaling those fumes affects her, her team, and how she’s viewed by others, Pin wants to prove that she’s changed but worries she regresses into old habits, Donut wants effectively lead the teams he’s on without coming off as too pushy… All of those problems fly into her mind unbidden.
Being easy to talk to is the point. She wouldn’t ask for things to be different, because then who else would her teammates confide in? And she cares so deeply for her teammates, she wouldn’t want them to bottle up all of these feelings, because where would any of them be otherwise? Even if she takes those feelings and then bottles them up in turn, it’s fine, because they’re not hers, so how can they affect her? And even beyond her teammates, with Two, everyone else has no clue how to talk with them. They’re the show’s host and an all-powerful Algebrailian, which means they stand above normal objects twofold. Who would want to make casual conversation with them when they risk making them mad? They’ve learnt how unpredictable Algebrailians can be with Four, after all.
So everyone keeps their distance from Two. Whether they’re smug and cocky or friendly and amiable, the most they ever get for their trouble is nervous, sidelong looks from others. But not Gaty. She took a gamble on sitting and chatting with them. They were so warm and kind and eager to learn more about everything around them, and easy to love.
Does Gaty love them? She’s scared of properly admitting it because of what it would mean, but at the same time, they’ve hugged, they’ve cuddled, they’ve kissed. Of course it’s love. So what does she lose from admitting it anymore? So yes, she loves an Algebrailian, and she thinks she deserves reparations for it. Two isn’t hard to love, obviously. It’s just that there’s… baggage, not to mention the inherent cultural gap that comes from being involved with an alien.
For one thing, they’re clingy, painfully so. She’s learnt that lesson time and time again, but she still finds herself surprised by the lengths they go to to keep her so close it’s suffocating. For example, being sent to work in the kitchen instead of getting eliminated, which maybe some people would like, but Four and X don’t like her and she just… really misses Saw and the rest of her Team-8s.
For another, Algebrailian romance is an entirely different thing from object romance, and the standards differ accordingly. Feats of strength or achievement seem to be valued incredibly highly by Algebrailians, and Two never hesitates to show off the power they have at their disposal. But Gaty isn’t impressed by that sort of thing. She wasn’t that torn up by her elimination because she knew her chances at acquiring limitless power were diminished to zero. She had other things on her mind, anyway. She had no gripes about being eliminated from TPOT. In the end, it had been her time.
Two seems receptive to her lack of interest in their power. Well, it sounds callous when she phrases it like that. She’s just not shallow enough to let their power be the make or break on their friendship. She likes them because of their kindness, their willingness to learn more, their boundless, infectious enthusiasm. She likes the things that make them them. What does their power mean to her, when they’ll be rid of it soon enough?
She thinks back to the day they had started their relationship with a twist of something in her chest. Fondness? Anxiety? It’s hard to tell. It had started out the same way conversations with them always started out; Gaty asking a question, and Two offering a stream of rambles in response, seeming to bathe in her presence more than they were worried about coming to any sort of intelligible conclusion. She liked that they never tried to hide how much they enjoyed being around her. Was the lack of emotional constipation an Algebrailian thing, or a Two thing? She enjoyed it either way.
The question that had spurred on the conversation, that had tipped the domino, had been her asking why they were holding this game show to begin with. “Not that it hasn’t been a lot of fun,” she had added with a hum. “But what made you want to give away your power to begin with, y’know?”
“Well, I saw that Four was hosting a game show, and I decided I wanted to do that, too!” Two had declared in response, a brilliant grin on their face. “The challenges, the drama, it all seemed like a lot of fun! But the prize always seemed super lame to me. I thought that I could do a lot better, and it’s not like I was doing much with my power anyway. Algebrailians use it for courting, mostly, but people flocking to me because of my power alone has always felt… gosh, insincere?”
Gaty had hummed in understanding. “That must suck,” she had said sympathetically, even if the way it was phrased, courting, made her think of the medieval times. Or wild animals. She had known by then, though, how different Algebrailians were from your typical everyday object, so she hadn’t even commented on it,
“Mhm,” Two had said airily, leaning against the couch with a sigh. “Makes dating hard in the same way you guys do it, not that Algebrailians really, uh, have that?” They had made a so-so motion with their hand, face scrunched up in thought. “But I guess I didn’t need my power to find love anyway, right?”
She had nodded on impulse, because it’s easier to agree than to push back against someone as they rant and ramble about everything that comes to mind. More often than not, it’s a stream of consciousness or a vent sort of thing, so arguing would be cruel anyway. But after a moment, the words had fully filtered through her mind, and she had paused, head whipping around to look at Two. Their words combined with the soft, hopeful smile on their face… Was she interpreting all of it right? She wasn’t-
In the end, the only thing she could have done was sputter out a nervous “H-Huh?” stunned and caught off guard as she tried to wrap her mind around it. “D-Do you mean- Are you-?” She hadn’t known what to say. If she jumped to conclusions, how would Two react?
The Algebrailian had winced. “S-Sorry, maybe that was too much?” they had said, smiling sheepishly as they scratched at their cheek. “I-I guess I’m not confident in my assumption. I don’t really know what love feels like? But being here with you, talking about anything that comes to mind… If love was anything, this has to be it.” Gaty had been silent, in shock as she tried to make her brain catch up to what was happening around her. Two had begun to grow anxious, beginning “W-Well, like I said, I don’t really know. If you don’t-”
“You’re in love with me?” she had interjected, uncertain as her voice rose at the end. “R-Really? That’s- um-”
Okay, so it was obvious she didn’t have a clue what she was meant to say to that. In her defense, the last thing she had expected was a love confession from her friend-slash-alien-slash-game show host. She didn’t think she was… well. She hadn’t thought Two would fall in love with her, after all. She had to paint herself just so she could feel good about herself. She hadn’t even been born a girl! But Two had never seemed to mind, probably because Algebrailians didn’t have gender as a concept in their culture.
Two had begun to deflate, excuses and apologies bubbling on their tongue. And, well, that wouldn’t do at all. She hadn’t been able to say whether she felt the same or not at the time, but if nothing else, she knew she didn’t want to leave Two heartbroken. Besides, that was the point of relationships, wasn’t it? To find out more about the other person and explore your feelings? So she had accepted, regardless of if that was the right choice or not.
Even if she did have to explain where their relationship would go from there. And what it meant to be someone’s girlfriend or partner. And how dating worked in general. Two soaked it up in the same way they soaked up all the new information they learnt. At least they were receptive to all of it.
It’s not like she regrets getting into a relationship with Two. She loves them. The more she thinks about the words, the easier it is to swallow them. She’s happy with them, even if she wonders how much of their relationship is an equal give and take. Two gives her so much, yes, but they take so much too. And she gives herself, where she can, and takes hardly anything. Shouldn’t things be more equal? She doesn’t know. Maybe Saw would know. Even if she didn’t, she misses talking to her so much it feels like a dull ache that never ebbs.
More than anything, she wishes Two wouldn’t give her special treatment, whether it’s because of their fondness for her or because they don’t think it’s her time to go, like they had thought when keeping Clock around. They care for her, and she likes having proof of that to back that fact up, but she doesn’t need to be spared from elimination. She knows the sort of person Two is, and they wouldn’t hurt anyone. They definitely wouldn’t send anyone to eternal algebra like Four had, at any rate. So what does she have to be afraid of when it comes to elimination? She gets to see Saw again, after all.
But they won’t let her go. They just continue to cling to her so tightly it’s stifling, and she’s overwhelmed by their clinginess all too quickly. But she’s not unhappy working in the kitchen, per say. She forces herself to get along with Four and X, as fickle as the two can be at times. It makes her worried about what will happen when it’s time for her to die.
Maybe she would get the chance to pass on peacefully, reuniting with those who had already left. More likely, Two would do something with that power of theirs, if they don’t pass it on after the game show ends, or maybe call in a favor with another Algebrailian if they do give it to someone, and she would be rendered… is immortality a real thing? Everyone has to die eventually, she thinks. She would live much longer than she would want to, anyway.
Being sent to the kitchen feels like it’ll be indicative of how everything with Two will be. They’ll do everything they can to keep her around, even if it makes her feel impossibly lonely and isolated. From being unable to see any of her friends, whether they’ve been eliminated from TPOT or not, to outliving them for decades if not centuries… Maybe she’s rushing to conclusions, assuming how things will go long before they end up happening. But she thinks she knows Two well enough to conclude that all of her worst assumptions are just right.
If only she had the courage to actually speak up. Confronting Book had been so easy back when the other woman was being so cruel to Taco. The worst Book could do to her was argue or yell or… um… cry… and maybe make things tense in their team for the next few challenges. Her fears had gone unfounded, considering her defensiveness had been brief and she had been quick to listen to Gaty and soak up her advice like an anxious, once-wronged sponge. If things had gone so well with her, why couldn’t they go that well with Two? And still, for all the times she mumbles the words to herself, she can never be fully convinced by it.
But she doesn’t say a word. She’s aware she’ll be stuck in this kitchen forever, Two never quite accepting that it’s time for her to leave. She’ll be stuck at their side forever, wondering if loving them and being loved in return is worth feeling so isolated.
And still, she continues to give herself to others. She offers Two wide smiles that slide from her face the moment they leave. She plays nice with Four and X even when they loudly complain about the cardinal sin of her not being Clock (and she suddenly has an interest in talking to him, because it looks like the two of them now have a lot in common), and she stays positive even when the loneliness of still being here even when she was eliminated from the game gets to her more and more with every passing day.
It hurts, knowing that Two loves her but doesn’t… love her. They want to have her, but they don’t want to be with her. They can’t bring themselves to leave her even when it’s time for her to go. Maybe this is just how romance works for Algebrailians, clinging onto the one you love with all you have. Four and X embody that with each other, and if Clock had stuck around she wouldn’t be surprised if he was treated the same way. But she wants space. She wants to not have her life be constantly revolving around a reality show. She wants…
Not that her wants and preferences have any sort of power here. She sits and listens as Two rambles about anything under the sun, contributing to anything she thinks she’s capable of talking on, but there’s never a point where the conversation shifts in her direction. Never a point where she thinks she can get a word in. Never a good time to ask Two outright if they can send her to wherever the rest of the contestants are.
So she sits, and waits, and lets time pass her by. The passage of time means nothing to Two, she knows, the alien barely having a grasp of it except for when they try to understand for her sake. But it has slightly more meaning to her, and if she had the courage, she would protest about how much time she’s been apart from her friends.
But she doesn’t know if Two would understand her desire for space. Would they be as accommodating and kind as they always are, or confused and hurt? Would they view it as a slight on themselves, on their relationship, on their love? What would happen to her if she gets on the wrong side of someone with so much power at their disposal?
More likely than not, Two would listen. Maybe they wouldn’t understand and would be left upset, but they aren't the sort to grow angry on a whim. They aren’t anywhere near as unpredictable as Four and X can be, and she can’t tell if it’s because Two is just different from the other Algebrailians or if it’s purposeful so the objects can understand them and their actions without too much confusion. Either way, Two wouldn’t be angry. And because of how well she knows them, she knows she has nothing to fear.
And still, Gaty’s still here, in this kitchen, day after day. For all of Four’s talk about developing new recipes, her daily routine has never deviated from the creation and bagging of sandwiches, and she’s gotten so used to it that she swears she does it in her sleep. She remains in the kitchen, wishing the best for her team, and knows that things won’t change unless she wishes for them to.
She’s happy with Two, at least for now. She wouldn’t have let things develop into all of this if she hadn’t. For all of Two’s occasional cluelessness and obliviousness paired with their unrestrained desire to learn more, they can be empathetic and grounded as well. The two wouldn’t be dating if they hadn’t received explicit confirmation from Gaty that she was interested in the idea.
Sometimes she regrets it. If she had just said no and left things as they were, she wouldn’t be showered in favoritism. She wouldn’t have to brush off every little thing as being a quirk of how Algebrailians just are. She would know what to expect from this relationship instead of having to tentatively feel everything out, ready made excuses already bubbling on her tongue.
Other times, though, Two is warm and vulnerable and showers her in so much affection it makes her head spin, and she thinks If I can’t be with Saw again, at least I have this. And things feel alright again, if only for a little while. Then they’re gone again, busy chatting with contestants or hosting or excitedly chasing after anything that catches their interest, and she’s left with the loneliness and resentment beginning to creep forward from the shadows, something she can easily become consumed by if she doesn’t watch where she steps.
Maybe she should have asked Two to properly eliminate her and send her on her way before they rushed off for Cake at Stake, as obviously reluctant as they were to leave her side. But then again, that thought flits through her mind with every erratic entrance and exit from Two. It’s nothing she’s tempted to act on at the moment, anyway, so she just swallows and smiles and continues to bag sandwiches.
And then one of the sandwich bags opens wide and swallows her whole, and she suddenly has other things to worry about.