Chapter Text
After the conversation with Maryo, 4 tried to suppress his emotions—and when I say tried, I mean he really, really tried. He knew he had to stay calm for his family's sake, but the weight of his fear was too heavy to bear alone. He kept replaying the events in his mind, the image of Eggdog hurt and vulnerable gnawing at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch.
He became hyper-aware of everyone’s movements, every expression. Whenever anyone in the household looked even slightly off, 4’s heart would race. The smallest sign of discomfort or pain sent him into a spiral of panic, his thoughts immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario.
One evening, 3 was in the kitchen preparing dinner. He was chopping vegetables, lost in thought, when he accidentally nicked his finger with the knife. It was a minor cut, barely more than a scratch, but the sight of blood sent 4 into a full-blown panic.
"3, what happened? Are you okay?!" 4 rushed over, his eyes wide with fear, grabbing 3’s hand and inspecting the small wound as if it were life-threatening.
"It’s just a small cut, 4. Nothing serious," 3 replied calmly—an appropriate response to the situation—but 4 wasn’t convinced.
"Let me handle dinner from now on. You need to sit down," 4 said, his voice frantic, almost pleading. He couldn’t shake the fear that something worse could happen if he didn’t take control.
"4, it’s just a cut," 3 insisted gently, but 4 was already cleaning up the kitchen, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to take over.
Even seeing someone in the household looking sad would make 4 panic.
When the kids were sad, 4 would suggest a bunch of things for them to do—some normal, others absurd.
In one instance, the kids were sitting quietly in the living room, their faces reflecting a somber mood. Leggy was tired from a long week, and Beeg was just lost in his own thoughts, but to 4, they looked sad—too sad. His mind immediately jumped to the idea that something was wrong, that Puzzles had done something to make them feel this way.
"Hey, kids!" 4 called out, trying to sound cheerful but failing to hide the edge of panic in his voice. "Why don’t we… go to the amusem*nt park? Or—or build a giant pillow fort! How about a treasure hunt? I’ll—"
The kids looked at each other, a bit confused by 4’s sudden burst of suggestions. "We’re okay, Dad," one of them said, trying to reassure him. "We’re just resting."
But 4 wouldn’t hear it. The idea that they could be sad, that Puzzles could have planted seeds of fear or unhappiness in their minds, was too much for him to bear. "No, no, let’s do something fun, right now. How about we bake some cookies? Or—"
Some of his suggestions were normal, things they usually enjoyed, but others were absurd—like the time he suggested they take a spontaneous trip to the beach in the middle of the night or repaint the entire house in bright, cheerful colors to "chase away the bad vibes."
The kids tried to go along with some of the ideas—Leggy not wanting to upset her dad, and Beeg because Eggdog was acting more skittish than usual—but it was clear they were worried. Beeg especially could see that something was wrong with 4, even if he didn’t fully understand what was happening.
3 noticed the change in 4 as well. He watched as 4’s attempts to keep the family safe and happy became increasingly frantic, almost obsessive. 3 tried to step in, to take some of the burden off 4, but every time he did, 4 would react with panic, insisting that he needed to handle things himself.
"4, you’re stressing yourself out," 3 said gently one night, after 4 had insisted on triple-checking the locks on all the doors and windows for the third time. "You don’t have to do this alone. We’re a team, remember?" 3 gently reminded him. But 4 just shook his head, his eyes filled with a desperate determination.
"I can’t risk it, 3. I can’t lose any of you. Not to him." The fear in 4’s voice was palpable, and it broke 3’s heart to see his partner like this. He knew that Puzzles had done more than just hurt Eggdog—he had gotten inside 4’s head, planting a seed of paranoia that was growing out of control.
Despite his best efforts, 4 was losing the battle with his emotions. The more he tried to suppress his fear, the more it seemed to control him. And all the while, Puzzles’ presence loomed over them, an unseen but deeply felt threat that kept them all on edge.
Too bad it was Monday tomorrow. After 8:30, 4 wouldn’t be able to interact with the kids for another five days.
4's struggles only deepened as the weekend drew to a close. The looming thought of Monday, when his time with the kids would be cut off until the next weekend, only exacerbated his already fraying nerves.
Monday morning arrived with a sense of dread that 4 couldn’t shake. The clock seemed to tick faster as the minutes slipped away, drawing him closer to the inevitable separation. The kids were getting ready for school, going through their usual routines, but 4 was a bundle of nerves, trying to make the most of every last second he had with them.
"Did you pack your lunch? Double-check your bags, okay? And—don't forget your homework!" 4’s voice was filled with urgency as he hovered around the kids, making sure everything was perfect, as if their safety depended on it.
"We’ve got everything, Dad. We’ll be fine," Leggy said, giving him a reassuring smile, sensing his anxiety.
Beeg, on the other hand, noticed how Eggdog had been more skittish than usual, curling up closer to 3 and 4’s feet, refusing to leave his side. This wasn’t like the Eggdog they knew—the usually cheerful and adventurous companion now seemed almost afraid to be away from 4. Beeg could tell something was seriously wrong, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
"Eggdog will be okay, right?" Beeg asked, his voice small and worried as he looked up at 4.
"Of course, buddy. I’ll make sure of it." 4 forced a smile, ruffling Beeg’s hair.
But his words rang hollow even to himself. The truth was, 4 was terrified of what could happen while he was at work, unable to protect his family. He had already lost so much control, and the idea of leaving them vulnerable to Puzzles’ potential influence made him sick with fear.
As the kids prepared to leave, 4’s panic reached a fever pitch. He found himself wanting to offer more and more absurd suggestions, desperate to keep them close just a little longer. But he knew he couldn’t. He was legally obliged to give them over to Puzzles when the clock struck 8:30 each Monday morning and could only interact with them again at 13:55 each Friday. 4’s body ached with the conflicting emotions tearing through him. He wanted to keep them safe, to shield them from whatever dangers he imagined Puzzles had in store, but he knew deep down that he couldn’t keep them home forever. He had to let them go.
So they hopped in the car and drove them to school, and with a final, "Just be careful, okay? Stick together, and—and if anything feels off, you call me. Immediately," 4 said, his voice thick with emotion.
The kids nodded, trying to be brave for him.
"We will, Dad," Leggy promised, giving him a quick hug before heading out the door.
"Take care of Eggdog, okay? And yourself," Beeg lingered for a moment longer, his hand resting on Eggdog’s head.
"I will. I promise." 4 swallowed hard, his throat tight as he nodded.
“Bye, we’ll miss you,” 3 said, breaking the tension as the kids ran into school.
The car ride home was unbearable for 4. 3 tried to calm him down, but it didn’t work. When the door finally closed behind them at the cafe, the silence was suffocating. It didn’t help that 3 had to leave to go to a meeting with the elder memes at the graveyard, leaving 4 and Eggdog alone.
4 stood there, staring at the door, his mind racing with all the worst-case scenarios he could imagine. His heart pounded in his chest, the anxiety he had been trying to suppress threatening to overwhelm him.
Eggdog nuzzled against his leg, as if sensing his distress. But instead of comfort, 4 felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. How was he supposed to protect them when he couldn’t even keep his own emotions in check?
He tried to distract himself with chores, but everything reminded him of the kids—of the time they had just spent together, and of the dangers he imagined waiting just around the corner. His hands shook as he wiped down the kitchen counter, memories of 3’s small cut flashing in his mind, amplifying his fears.
By the time 3 came home from the meme graveyard, 4 was a mess of nerves. Every minute felt like an eternity, and the thought of spending the entire day without being able to check on the kids, without knowing if they were safe, was almost too much to bear.
But he had no choice. He had to go, had to trust that everything would be okay, even if it felt like the world was crumbling around him. As he locked the door behind him, he couldn’t help but look back, his soul heavy with dread.
3 realized he couldn’t help 4. But he had to try.
