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Oodle remembered them well.
He reflected on his relationship with him quite often. How they met, that was a bit fuzzy, but that didn't mean he didn't remember other things. The warmth of their touch, the look in their red eyes, the closeness.
When did it become so sour, Oodle often wondered?
When did they become adversive to his touch?
When did they refuse to acknowledge him, to look him in the eyes?
What made them start to distance themselves from him?
No, what made them lust, not for Oodle, but for his blood?
Oodle didn't understand it. Not even now, of course, but especially moreso back then.
He was so young. So naive.
Far too young to be running away.
A cycle soon formed.
He found a place, he started to call it home, they arrived, and he had to leave.
The cycle was repetitive.
And lonely.
Sure, things were mixed up a bit when he came to the Blank Slate.
He'd grown a bit close with some of the residents, and helped with their problems.
Plus, hosting was fun! There were some bumps, but still, fun!
Sure, Pear called him pointless.
A-And sure, Alef found their symbol on the paint can.
But that didn't mean anything, probably! Things were fine!
He was minutes away from snapping, he felt.
Then one day he woke up...well, he didn't know where he was, actually.
But now he was in a game show!
Which seemed like a lot of fun!
And he made some friends!
Four, some sort of alien who looked like a number, and...
MePhone.
Oh, God, MePhone.
Well, Four was his friend too, but—Oodle had a connection with MePhone.
A sort of connection that he hadn't had with anyone since them.
But maybe it was...deeper? More intense?
Oodle wasn't sure.
All he knew was that...he enjoyed MePhone's company.
Oodle loved listening to MePhone ramble about his show.
Oodle loved waking up and realizing that MePhone was holding him in his arms again, the device unaware that he kept doing it in his sleep.
Oodle loved—well, there were a lot of things, weren't there?
Hell, he might as well say it.
He loved MePhone.
But he couldn't—no, shouldn't say it, should he?
After all, in the end, they were just strangers, from distant worlds.
Hell, MePhone was probably going to leave once he inevitably got eliminated.
Sure, Oodle could always try to find him, but...
God, the heartache was killing him.
Figuratively, of course. He was sure heartaches couldn't kill demigods.
Or could they?
He didn't know.
Just like he didn't know if he could keep on living, not with his love for MePhone buried inside him.
It burned and blazed, deep within him, like a wicked wildfire.
Four kept bugging him about it ("Why won't you just tell him how you feel already?!"), and Oodle knew the algebralien had a point, but...
He couldn't do it.
He should.
But MePhone probably didn't even feel the same—
Maybe not, but maybe they could still be friends?
He doubted it.
But he couldn't know unless he tried, right?
Fuck. Fuck, he was really doing this.
Oodle could've sworn his footsteps were echoing in his head as he approached MePhone, heart pounding in his chest.
"Hey, MePhone...w-what's up?"