Chapter Text
You step out into the parking lot. Your work day has been long and arduous, but regardless, you breathe a sigh of relief knowing that it's concluded. It's Friday, and you'll have the next two days to yourself. No job and no college coursework to sully your weekend. The rain batters the umbrella that shields you as you leisurely walk down the street towards your apartment. It's a mere 15 minute walk, but an enjoyable one as the rainfall ebbs into a gentle, summer shower.
You come to an intersection, stopping to check both ways before crossing. You have seen one too many cars running through these stop signs, and you'll be damned if some Snapchatting teenager behind the wheel be the thing to take you out of this world. You peer to the left. It looks clear. Then to your right. No oncoming cars, but then you doubletake. Something a brilliant, deep blue color catches your eye. At first, you quickly assume it was a pile of clothing laying there in the gutter, but you quickly see it has distinctive limbs, despite its awkward positioning. You curiously draw a little closer, your pace quickening once you make out the three distinctive nubs on its head. Did you seriously just hit the jackpot? This looked like a discarded Four plush.
To find a random BFDI plush anywhere seemed impossible, given that it was rather niche, but to find one of Four? This already felt like some sort of fever dream. A strange, anxious feeling develops in the pit of your stomach as you draw even nearer to the supposed toy. The first thing you realize is that this is not an official JacknJellify Four plush, given its size and texture. Then again, it's not like any texture you've seen on a plush before. You kneel down to get a closer look. The texture doesn't even look like fabric. Any polyester or minky stuffed toy would have been soaked and darkened by the rain, but you can clearly see the raindrops beading on the surface and rolling down the head of this toy, a light sheen being left behind. You tentatively reach out to touch this strange plush, your hand jerking back once you suddenly realize that it isn't made of fabric at all. It was skin.
A quiet gasp escapes your lips, mouth agape in shock. Your recoiled hand slowly reaches out again to stroke the surface. It's smooth, soft, and somewhat squishy. It's slightly warm to the touch, though still frigid and wet from the time spent in the unforgiving storm. You shakily grip the shoulder of what you previously thought to be a toy, flipping it over onto its back, and it quickly dawns on you. This is not a Four plush. This is THE Four.
They are unconscious, eyes closed and mouth slacked open. Dark circles are purpled under their eyes, face muddied with dead leaves and indistinguishable debris decorating his features. On the lower half of his body, a large lesion is accompanied by the imprint of a tire's tread. You can tell he's hurt, but still alive by his quiet breathing. You continue to stare for several moments. You know you're not drunk. Are you high? Did someone spike your drink at work with something and you didn't know about it? Well, that would be strange, given how normal everything else was at this moment. The soreness of crouching for an extended period of time bites at your ankles. Realizing the slight pain, you know you can't be dreaming. This situation is entirely and utterly unbelievable, but what choice do you have at this point other than to accept it as reality?
You can't just leave Four here like this.
You shrug your jacket off of your shoulders and gingerly place it on top of him, wrapping the algebralien snugly inside. Only the two bumps atop his head stick out of the clothing bundle, and you silently pray that he doesn't wake up during the rest of your journey back home. You've seen Four in action on BFB, and figure that a confused Four would be an angry Four, and possibly a dead you at that point. With that fleeting thought in mind, you continue to briskly walk back to your apartment, hurrying up the staircase, and locking the door behind you, tucking your umbrella into the stand nearby.
Nervously, you tug back the fabric to peer inside, checking if Four was still asleep. They were, thankfully. Though, he was still covered in the grime from the gutter, and there was no telling how bad those injuries were yet. You move into your kitchen, setting the bundled creature onto the counter for a moment before retrieving a rag and soaking it in some warm water from the sink. You notice your hand quivering under the water and find it impossible to distinguish the emotion. Anxiety? Excitement? Fear? Well, if anything, you feel special. This is certainly a discovery that no one else has ever had the opportunity of having before.
You tenderly unfold the jacket from his body and take a step back, just in case he were to wake up in that moment from the sudden temperature change and blast your face off. Still nothing. You reach out nervously with the rag in your hand, slowly starting to brush away all the muck from Four's face and torso. He's a lot smaller than how you would imagine he would have been, though the tiny stature makes him appear much less intimidating than how he would inevitably be when he was awake. How will you even approach him, you ponder. There's a million questions you have at the moment with no answers in sight. Just the responsibility of caring for someone you've been fond of for a long time.
You consider cleaning out that wound of his. After the dirt is brushed away, it doesn't appear to be that bad at all. At first, you consider rubbing Neosporin on the abrasion, but Four isn't like any creature in this world. There's no telling if it would be good for him or even possibly hurt him. Maybe it's best to leave it be. After the process of cleaning and analyzing the number, you pick him up again, relocating him to your bedroom where you then place him on the mattress. He looks a bit awkward with his head on the pillow. Everything feels so awkward with that size of his. Still, you try your best to keep him comfortable, tucking in the sides of the blanket and pulling your Four plush off of the bed, so he would not have to wake up to the fabric doppelganger next to him.
You tuck it under your arm and turn to walk out the door, looking over your shoulder once more in awe, disbelief, and anticipation. Part of you wonders if he'll even still be here when you return to check on him. Even if he isn't, he at least had a safe place to rest.
_
It's been 8 hours since you first found Four. You told yourself that you would give him ample time to rest and check on him sparingly, spending the rest of your idle time watching videos or sinking your thoughts into an open bag of potato chips. However, you could not restrain yourself from checking on him practically every ten minutes.
You exit out of your tab, your Four wallpaper on your desktop reminding you it was time to check again. You stand up from your chair and return to your bedroom, expecting the same thing you've seen dozens of times over the past many hours. This time was a little different however. Four had moved. He had freed his arms from the blanket and had them spread out across the pillow. They looked like they were making themselves comfortable. You draw in a little closer, kneeling down beside the bed to stare at him a little longer. In a moment of compassion, you reach out to touch his head.
"Poor guy. It's okay." You mumble, your hand hovering over him about to sink down and touch him. Just before your hand makes contact with their skin, Four's eyes snap open. His black, beaded pupils point in your direction, his hand shooting up from the side to snatch your wrist. You let out a startled cry as he grabs you, instinctively trying to tug your hand away. Four doesn't budge, their vice grip and squeeze on your wrist almost painful. They surprisingly don't appear to be angry though. With tire and bewilderment, Four's eyes silently scan the room and then return to you. He doesn't really seem like he knows what to do, watching you struggle to break away for a moment before you finally concede that you will be unable. Four is awake. It's time to face him with all those hypothetical introductions you've been planning.
"U-uh- hI- Hi F...Four. I'm really sorry if I woke you up. I was just coming to check on you-" You stammer.
"Check on me?" He replies, squinting a bit. He appears confused and slightly agitated. "...What?"
"I-I found you on the road- in the rain. You had a big gash on your side- I'm just trying to help. I'm sorry- please don't kill me-" You squeaked nervously, Four letting go of your wrist as he trails his eyes down to the blanket, lifting it up to look underneath. His neutral expression turned a bit more surprised at the sight. He takes his other hand and trails along the injury with a finger. "Ow." He seethes, dropping the blanket back down. He appears to space out for a moment and you sit there, rubbing your now very sore wrist.
It's a little awkward. The silence. Four seems to recognize this, staring at you for another few, short moments.
"So..." He starts, but trails off. This is weird for both of you.
"Y-yeah...?"
"What are you?" He asks, scanning you up and down with scrutinizing eyes. You're probably like nothing he's ever seen before.
"Oh, me? I'm uh- I'm a human."
He squints. He's seen a human before, but you don't look anything like David. Not in the slightest. "Hmm..." He growls a bit, distrust lacing his expression. You quickly stammer again, trying to remedy his hesitancy.
"I-I'm a big fan! Of uh- you and your show. I love BFB. You're my favorite, actually."
Four's suspicious expression changes instantly. His eyes widen and smile stretches across his face. "For realsies?~" You can't help but return a smile in response. It seems like Four's mood can be completely changed with just a little compliment. It was very endearing. "Heheh- yeah! BFB's the best season so far, in my opinion. You're a very funny host."
"Thank you so much!" Four exclaimed, absolutely elated to receive some positive words on his character. "BFB is my pride and joy! I need to get back! Without me, there is no BFB- and we just advanced to the final fourteen!" He slowly works to sit up, your smile wavering a bit.
He was leaving already? You expected this to happen since the moment you found him. There was no way you could just keep Four in your apartment. Still, there was so much you wanted to ask him. So much more time you wanted to spend with him. Regardless, you were impressed by his rapid healing abilit-
CRACK.
Four's eye twitches. That loud noise came from their back. They slowly sink back into the pillow, a choked groan escaping their lips as they stare out ahead, shocked and dazed by the sudden pain. You grimace. That didn't sound good at all.
"Oooh...you should take it easy. You are free to leave whenever you want to, but...maybe rest up a little? I can get you stuff to help you feel comfortable if you want..." You think for a moment, remembering what he liked in the show. "I have orange juice. I know you like juice, right?"
Four looks surprised and curious, seemingly impressed with you knowing that detail about him despite this being your first meeting. He thought only X knew that. They tap their fingers together and ponder, slightly nodding after. "Erm...Yeah. I'd like that. Thanks." He says, neutral and spacy.
"It's no problem, Four." You want to talk to him longer, but decide he could really use the food and the rest. You exit your room and return to the kitchen, retrieving a tall glass of orange juice, a bowl of mixed fruit, and a bologna sandwich. You aren't sure if he'll like the other things you've made for him, but it's at least worth offering him something other than juice. Though, if algebraliens lived completely off of juice, you suppose it wouldn't be that surprising.
His large eyes follow you as you step into the room and set the tray of food in front of him. He gives it an approving look, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and rubbing his hands together in anticipation to eat.
Then, you blink...and when you open your eyes again, Four is asleep, bread crumbs around their mouth. The plate is empty, orange juice cup with only the pulpy residue left behind. Lastly, the mixed fruit AND the bowl are gone. You can't help but crack a smile from relief as well as amusement from his cartoonish habits, lifting the tray from his lap. You turn around, looking over your shoulder one last time before you exit the room, shutting the light off behind you.
You hope he can be comfortable here, since he'll be staying a little longer than initially planned.