Can't Help But Want More(cross-uploaded)

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Touch is... An unknown concept to Victim.

They know what it is, obviously, but they never experienced it first hand. Sure they shook hands with their workers, business partners, but they wore gloves. They didn't truly feel it. And when it comes to their clones, Victim paid attention to surviving more than the feeling of shaking hands with themselves.

The first time Victim has ever felt touch was when Second, full control over his powers, lent them a hand after destroying ROCKET Corp. Victim's gloves were torn off by spiky edges of concrete and pipes they held onto for protection, and their suit was ripped and dirty, making them look more pathetic than ever.

They expected to die in that moment, seeing Second move their arm made Victim flinch and fall back into the wall, using their arms as a shield to protect themselves when Second would blast them off like he did with The Dark Lord. They were ready, they were ready to die again... But nothing happened.

Victim heard Second walk to them -"Wasn't he floating just now?" they thought- and after sitting in the same position, trembling, tearing up from the long build up, Victim looked up hesitantly. Second was giving Victim their hand as everyone watched. The look on Second's face was still that emotionless expression Victim saw in The Chosen One's memories, but they swore his lips curled up slightly when they looked up.

Victim lowered their arms, eyes growing wide and watery as they looked around more thoroughly for any signs this was a trap. Nothing. Second spoke, voice echoey and drowned out by the high pitch sound in Victim's ears, but enough words were heard for Victim to get a general idea of what Second was telling them.

-"They're sparing me..." they thought "...But why...?"- Victim looked at Second's hand one more time, before taking the risk to grab it with their cold, naked hand. Victim's face softened at the touch, staying in this shocked state as Second helped them get up, grabbing their other hand too to help Victim keep their balance. They felt so warm, so soft, so gentle yet tight to not drop Victim. Second's eyes were fully engulfed in green and his smile was bigger and yet still so soft, Victim wanted to cry. And they did.

Falling to their knees, Victim began bawling their eyes out, holding onto Second's hands tighter as his thumb rubbed the back of their hand, only making them cry and hiccup more. Looking back, only now thinking straight, only now feeling something else apart from anger, only now did they realize their plan would have never worked. The words coming out of Victim's mouth were some that they never uttered before, "I'm sorry" they repeat, "I'm sorry" their voice grows weak and squeaky, "I'm sorry" they keep chanting as their voice goes quiet and barely audible, "I'm sorry".

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Victim woke up with a groan, a month in and it was still so weird to live in a computer. Especially Alan's. But with nowhere else to go, and not being able to say no to Second, they had no other choice other than to live on the desktop with Color Gang.

Victim got out of bed, changed into something with more coverage and headed out to the gang's kitchen, where they saw Blue pack up last night's dinner in a small orange box, with another purple one resting beside it. Blue heard Victim's footsteps and looked up.

"Morning, Victim!"

"Good morning. What are you doing?"

"We're going to a friend's house to help them out with some junk in the attic, so I thought I could bring them some food to not work on an empty stomach." Blue got back to sorting the food nicely into the box before closing it shut and stacking the two boxes on top of each other in a bag. "Aside from in-game food, they haven't tried any other recipes and according to them, food in Minecraft tastes different from their real world counterparts, so it's a nice new experience!"