The apartment door clicked shut behind them, the soft rattle echoing through the cramped, dimly lit space 1x1x1x1 called home. Shedletsky stood just inside the entrance, arms still heavy from the grocery bags he’d insisted on carrying. He set them down on the tiny kitchen counter—much too gently for a man who had once been capable of so much brutality. His movements now carried something rare for him: hesitation.

He straightened up slowly, brushing the dust from his sleeves as if trying to clear the weight of old sins. His eyes wandered, studying the place with an awkward mix of curiosity and guilt. It was strange being here—being anywhere near his… creation. Son. Mistake. Miracle. He’d never managed to choose a word that didn’t sting.

1x1x1x1 moved around him with an air of cold efficiency, avoiding eye contact the way someone avoids a flame that had already burned them before. The tension was thick; it settled on the room’s stale air like ash.

Shedletsky smiled. “...You should’ve told me you were running low on things,” he said, trying for casual conversation, trying to sound like this was normal between them. His voice cracked slightly, betraying nerves he didn’t want exposed. “I don’t mind helping you out.”

He didn’t say anymore. He didn’t need to.

He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. The old version of him—sharp, cruel, arrogant—hovered like a ghost in every corner. He could feel 1x1x1x1’s eyes on him, full of the same distrust he’d earned the hard way.

But he was different now. Or at least he was trying to be. Day by day. Step by hesitant step.

Shedletsky forced anothef small, uneasy smile. “You… uh. You’ve kept the place clean,” he murmured, trying again, trying anything. “It—suits you.”

He hated how unsure he sounded. Once upon a time, he’d commanded armies, coded gods, reshaped worlds with his bare hands. Now, he was afraid of a single sentence going wrong. Afraid that one wrong word would undo months of him trying to rebuild himself from the inside out.

1x1x1x1 didn’t answer. Not immediately.

Shedletsky took a slow breath and stepped farther into the apartment. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t push. For the first time in his life, he was learning patience.

“I’m not here to bother you,” he added quietly. “Just helping with groceries. That’s all.”

But he hoped—deep down, in the part of him that still ached for connection—that it could be the beginning of something else. A crack in a wall he himself had built. A chance, however slim, to be more than the monster in 1x1x1x1’s memories.

He stood there, awkward and hopeful and terribly human, waiting to see whether this visit would end in silence… or in something that resembled the start of healing.