Work Text:
1x1x1x1 used to be beautiful.
Free.
Happy.
But now all he knows is this disgusting 3rd dimension.
All he knows is this rage that eats away from his origin day by day.
This suffering that digs its teeth into his soul, tugging at the flesh until it is no more.
This hate that has consumed his mind. Embedded itself in his bone marrow. Crushed all thoughts about anything except for HIM.
Telamon.
Shedletsky.
The specifics of the name did not concern 1x1x1x1. They were technically the same being regardless of what they were called. At least, in terms of consequences.
If hate were to be poured in a cup, the sheer amount of it that 1x1x1x1 had for Shedletsky would flood the earth and stay that way until the sun's inevitable death. And then it would refuse to die with the rest of the planet, instead gravitating towards other solar systems and infecting them with the plague of hatred.
All that to say, however, 1x1x1x1 still holds some form of affection for the admin. The same being that soiled his innocent soul and made him impure, just to fail at achieving his goal of perfection and instead become nearly mortal. The same gluttonous being that greedily eats up whatever praise is given to him by peers and those below him, those who never realize just how horrible he was, how horrible he is. The same being that 1x1x1x1 loves.
Love. The word is heavy on 1x1x1x1's tongue. Illegible in any of 1x1x1x1's writings, and difficult to force out of his throat.
True hatred cannot exist without true love.
Call it duality, a yin-yang, the terms do not matter to 1x1x1x1.
He repulses at the sound of the admin's voice, he has ripped out his vocal cords numerous times—although the damage is always undone by the damn rules of this hell—just to silence him, his taunts echo in 1x1x1x1's mind when he is alone and yet...
Praise makes his cheeks flush a pleasant red, when the admin hums to himself he cannot help but to stop and listen, when Shedletsky sings for him, when the avian makes those wonderful coos, chirps, whimpers, beautiful noises all for 1x1x1x1... He cannot help himself. Despite the way it lumps in his throat, he cannot help but to quietly declare how much he loves him and how much he hates him as well.
Shedletsky calls him beautiful.
He would like to believe it.