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#so like . sorry dying cq fandom i tried
noisemastter · 1 year
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i should draw him more
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annaraebananawriter · 3 years
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Hands
First off...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SQUID!!! 
I honestly had no idea it was his birthday until last night from twitter. I was in the middle of writing this scene, in fact, and realized ‘Hey, you know what? I could probably get this done in time for it!’. Now here we are.
Secondly...This is a scene from one of my WIP’s. It will probably take place somewhere in the middle chapters, but I saw that it was a fairly out of context scene to show that it wouldn’t really matter if I showed it now as a teaser or later. 
Obviously, I chose the latter.
That said, this is set to change a bit as the WIP develops, but it’ll be nice to see what you all think of it. Hope you enjoy!
Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV
Pairings: Implied Errorink, or Pre-Errorink
Characters: Error (Who belongs to CQ) and Ink (Who belongs to Comyet)
Warnings: Nothing really. Although, again, it is a scene from a wip, which means that it is not in it’s final form. Let me know!
Word Count: 2488
~oOo~
His phone buzzed on the floor beside him. Ink paused in the middle of trying to balance a pencil on his finger, which was probably a losing battle, but since when has that ever stopped him before? That’s right, never. And it never would. Setting the pencil aside, he checked his phone and read the short message.
mommy-bear
Are you coming home for supper? It’s past 5.
Ink jumped, looking outside to see that, indeed, the sun was lower in the sky and time had in fact passed. They must’ve gotten lost in the throughs of their homework, or the casual avoidance of it, for one of them. Error seems to have made some sort of headway into the work from Mx. Alex. Good for him. He’ll be able to hand it in on Monday without it bugging him in the back of his mind while he ignores that bugging and just doddles instead of doing his work like he should until the next thing he knows it’s almost midnight on Sunday and he still hasn’t gotten it done.
But honestly, who would do that? Certainty not Ink.
Error had also noticed his jump and was looking at him now. “What is it?”
“Just a text from my mom.” He answered, gathering up his things. A glance to his study buddy showed Error blinking and setting down his pencil as well in order to listen. “She was just wondering where I was. It’s after five, y’know? I said I’d be back then.”
“Oh.” Error fell silent after that.
Once his things were all accounted for (he did lose his eraser for a minute there and partially freaked out about it, which was kind of silly as he had plenty more than just this one white one, others that were far more colourful, but he didn’t have to worry for long—Error had silently placed it on the bed for him to grab, making Ink smile in gratitude), Ink walked to the bedroom door and got to the top of the stairs before he realized another pair of footsteps were following him.
Man, Error really needed to take him up on the suggestion of bells. He was too silent on his feet, just too much like a ghost for his liking. Not that he didn’t like ghosts. He just didn’t like people being silent when their walking. It made him paranoid.
Ink turned around. “You know I can just walk myself back, right? I literally live right next door.” He held up one finger. “That’s the house right beside yours.”
Error scowled, just like he always did when Ink pointed things out like that. It was also a reason why he was determined to point things like that out as often as he did, which was rather often. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I know that.”
“Then why are you following me?”
“What if I wasn’t? What if I just decided to get some food? To do that, I’d need to go to the kitchen, which is also downstairs.” He gestured to the passageway to said downstairs. “Those are the only stairs to get there.”
Ink smirked, “You have a box on the top shelf of your closet where you keep all the chocolate you bought, stole, or stole from Fell.” This statement was rewarded with a light blush of embarrassment from Error, who looked around as if to make sure his brothers didn’t overhear.
Ink was sure that they already knew though.
He also suspected that they put chocolate in the box too, as Error was sometimes surprised that there was some there when he had said he had eaten it all.
“I didn’t even say I was getting chocolate! I might be getting something else.”
“You don’t snack on anything but chocolate.” Error’s scowl deepened. “You also sort of admitted to following me” He couldn’t help but laugh when the blush on Error’s skull deepened in realization and his taller friend looked away from him. It was always interesting to see just how much it took to get to this shade of blue, with the yellow freckle-like dots just barely seen overtop. The sight made Ink want to draw it.
He wanted to draw it so badly.
Laughter dying down, Ink tilted his head and smiled at Error. “If you wanted to walk with me, you could’ve just asked.”
For some reason, Error glanced back at him and quickly looked away again, blush deepening again, the yellow becoming brighter. He also started to glitch a little bit, which would normally spark a tiny bit of worry, but he could see that the other wasn’t in any danger, so he had no reason to worry. If the glitches got worse, then he could worry.
That was…pretty much the saying for being friends with him.
‘If the glitches got worse, then you could worry.’
Error burrowed down, like he usually would if he had his scarf on. It was, presumably, back in his room. Weird. The glitch he knew never went anywhere without his scarf; at school, at home, at the café, at the park, walking, sitting, it was always on. Well, it probably came off at home. Here he was with his family, a safe, happy environment away from the judging eyes of school and the city. He could be himself here. That’s an assumption, at least, hopefully the right one. Ink didn’t know the relationship between skeleton and scarf and never asked, never would talk about it until, or if, Error brought it up. He wanted to respect his privacy, after all.
But now that he thought about it, the scarf had been coming off around him lately. It had started off small. It started with it being up to his mouth, almost as if a way to hide or be smaller than he was. That was how it was for a while. Then one morning, it was down just a bit, just under his mouth. And as the days passed and the two talked more and became friends, the scarf would be lower and lower. Down to the chin in Math. Under the chin the next day. Around his neck a week later in English class.
It was almost like earning his trust. He had earned Error’s trust, which meant that he got to see the skeleton behind the scarf. The true, unshielded one.
It was…kind of nice, to be honest.
Ink blinked, coming back to himself and realizing that Error had mumbled something.
“Sorry, what?”
Error looked back at him and sighed a little before speaking up just enough so that Ink could hear. “I said, can I…walk with you?” His arms went in front of him. Ink guessed that it was a temporary shield in place of the scarf.
He was prepared to be rejected and just walk back to his room.
Well, Ink couldn’t have that, now could he?
“Of course!” The smile on his face widened and he started down the stairs with lighter steps. It was always nice when friends offered to walk you home or something of the sort. The walk was less lonely, even if you never spoke a word.
It’s just how it was.
They talked in the small time it took to get from Error’s house to Ink’s. Well, that wasn’t really true. Ink did most of the talking, which ended up being mostly complaints about homework and school and also talk about his works in progresses. Error just listened quietly, humming or nodding in certain spots. He would like to think that Ink could talk about nothing at all and Error would listen. It just seemed to be the way he was.
Their friendship was a good one. Maybe there were a few unbalances here and there, but overall, it was good and healthy and, most importantly, mutual. It benefited both of them in different ways. Ink had someone who would listen without interrupting, who cared about his interest and how he felt, even though he didn’t have a soul and relied on substitutes. Error had someone who didn’t pressure him into a conversation, who gave him and respected his personal space and asked before touching his things and body. It was like a missing piece just fell into place, so perfect, it felt like it hadn’t been missing at all.
That said, there were some hurdles.
Like how Ink was soulless. There was always that thought, loud or quiet, one that questioned whether the love he felt towards his friends and family was real. Or if he was just deluding himself and everyone around him into thinking that they were. This thought had always been there, since before Dream and Blue, before Error, before anyone he was with now—what if it was all fake?
It was kind of silly. The substitutes he took acted as a soul. It supplied him his soul magic, the working parts of his body and the emotion spectrum. He may not feel things as intensely as others and may be lacking a feeling in a certain way, but that didn’t mean they weren’t real. They’re substitutes for a reason, after all.
…Ah! They’ve arrived at his house.
Ink blinked, stopping on the first step and turning back to Error. “So…” he said, finding himself unable to think of what else to say. He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you next Friday?” He tried to think back on what else was going on in school. “We have some sort of project to do or test to study for, right?”
Error nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He fell silent too, but didn’t leave like Ink had expected. He lingered, clearly thinking about something with the way his arms slightly glitched around. He didn’t say anything, though.
“Anything else?” Ink asked, trying to prompt him.
The blush, which had died down as they walked over here, brightened again. “Um…yeah, actually.” Error straightened and fiddled with his sleeve. “Do you remember the lesson we had…I think it was a month ago? In Health?”
Ink rocked on his heels as he thought. It was times like these that he cursed his memory. A month ago…a month ago…he didn’t really remember a lot of the lessons from a month ago. But the ones that he did… “Do you mean the one about the different types of intimacy? I only recall that it was about intimacy, nothing specific.”
“Yeah…yeah, that’s the one.”
“Okay…why is it important?” Curious. Error rarely asked him if he could remember a lesson from as long as a month ago. He knew how bad Ink’s memory was, so why did he ask? And why now, of all times?
“I, uh…w-well…” Error stuttered. Error didn’t normally stutter. It was only when he glitched really badly and was on the verge of crashing that he stuttered, or lagged, as he liked to call it. Normally, though, he spoke fine, if quiet and almost echoey.
Speaking of glitches…the ones on his arms had quickened up a little. Not enough to be too worrying yet, but definitely something to watch over.
Frowning, Ink was just about to bring that to attention when Error spoke again, voice clearer. “Just…can you…raise your hand?” He slowly brought up a hand with the inside facing Ink, like he was to high-five someone. “Like this?”
Ink eyed him suspiciously.
One of the first things he had learned about Error was that the other had haphephobia. He couldn’t stand people touching him, as it usually caused a flurry of glitches in the touched spot, and sometimes it was so bad that the minute someone touched him, he crashed. Those days were few, but they have happened. Ink had been lucky that it hasn’t happened since meeting Error. But this fact he had taken in and committed to memory, determined to not trigger his friend like that.
He would hate himself, if he did.
But now Error was asking him to raise his hand? For what? He couldn’t see them high-fiving. It would be too painful for Error and frankly a bit of a reach for Ink (he hated being short like that). And because it would be painful, he couldn’t see why he had to raise his hand.
But he was curious.
Curiosity usually made his answers for him.
Just as slowly as Error did, Ink raised his hand, mirroring the one in front of him.
Error inhaled and…
Ink’s mind froze.
He could barely focus on Error stepping closer as excitement and happiness began to take over. The urge to squeal was overwhelming, but he reigned himself in as he knew that wouldn’t help Error at all. It would probably just make him run away and never come near Ink again. And he didn’t want that. So, he forced himself to stay still and stay quiet, eyes focused on the hand that started to come closer and closer to his.
He could see the black bones begin to glitch a ton and felt a spark of worry—despite what might just happen, he didn’t want Error to hurt himself. He would never want him to—he should speak up now. He should tell Error to stop and calm down.
They didn’t have to do it like this.
They didn’t even have to touch at all!
They didn’t…have to…
It was…warm.
Fuzzy.
The hands contrasted starkly and they would be stunning in a painting. The white of Inks and the black of Errors. They were different, but they looked so well together.
This…This had to be a dream.
But it wasn’t. There was a light touch to his bones, just enough to know that the hand against his was, in fact, against his and trembling ever so slightly and actually existed in the world and not just his imagination. Somehow, this made it even more surreal. He knew it was real…but he just couldn’t believe it.
If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.
Despite his promise to stay still, Ink shakily inhaled.
And just like that, the spell was broken.
Error retracted his hand and walked away quickly. Ink was slow to realize what was happening and so by the time his hand was up and the name of his tongue, his friend was already gone. He stood there with his arm outstretched, gazing at the house next door blankly.
He slowly looked down at his hand.
It still tingled.
Gently wrapping his other hand around it, not daring to actually touch, he brought the hands closer to his chest, right over where his soul would be.
It felt like something should be beating wildly in there.
It felt like some new emotion had been lodged in his substitutes.
And somehow, it felt like that contact, the light touch of hands, was far more intimate than a kiss had ever and would ever be.
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