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annaraebananawriter · 2 years

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(Part Two/Final) One Day, You’ll be Better

“Yellow there, here. Have another oneshot. Part 2 will be out hopefully sometime this month too, so keep an eye out.” Oh me. Sweet, innocent me. You knew you wouldn’t post it. You knew that. You just gave yourself hope that was crushed almost immediately.

Anyway. Here’s that Part 2 and conclusion I mentioned in the beginning of this oneshot.

Have fun and please heed the warnings!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically Momma CQ/Modern

Characters: Error, Fresh, Geno (Who belongs to Loverofpiggies(CQ)), Mentioned Ink (Who belongs to Comyet), and Mentioned Dream and Nightmare (Who both belong to Joku)

Warnings: Heavy talk of Suicide, Suicide Ideation, Suicide Attempt,Suiciadal Thoughts, Deppresive Thoughts, Self-Worth Issues, Self-Hatred and Other Things Like That. I think that’s it, and please let me know!

Word Count: 4794

~oOo~

“Error wants to die.”

“…what?”

Fresh sighed, glancing back to his brother on the couch. “Error wants to die, Geno. Ink called me and told me about what he had noticed. A half-hour ago, I came over to Error’s, you know, to check up on him? The door was unlocked and…” He shivered. “I had to stop him from hanging himself, Geno. I had to stop Error from killing himself.”

Geno was silent. Fresh waited.

“…I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead.

Fresh played with his phone in his hands. They were still shaking. What he had just prevented ran over and over in his mind, the unwanted thought of ‘what if he had been a second later’ a step behind it. All his nerves were on edge.

He had never—never—seen Error like that. So…he didn’t even know how to describe it other than just sad. Plain cut sadness. There was more to it than that, he knew it in his heart, but the sadness had been the most prominent tonight. Tonight. If Fresh had arrived even a second later, he would’ve lost his brother. His older brother by one, almost two years, had almost died tonight. He had almost…killed himself.

It made Fresh’s gut twist with worry.

He didn’t want his brother to die. He didn’t want either one of them to die. Especially not right in front of him. When he had entered the silent apartment, his stomach had dropped. He knew in his gut that something was wrong. That and mixed up with what Ink had told him, what had kept him up, made alarms go off in his mind. He knew something was wrong, but most importantly, that he had to find out what it was and fix it. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t.

The scariest moment of his life would forever be walking in on Error, his older brother, whom he looked up to, standing on a chair in front of a noose of strings. His heart had stopped, and his whole world had shattered. It was suddenly so real to him that Ink was right, even though he hadn’t doubted him, and he had to keep Error alive. He had to be careful. A wrong move then could result in everything falling apart.

Then Error stopped breathing, a distant look taking over. Fresh’s heart skipped a beat again and he quickly realized what was happening. Error was having a panic attack. He got him off the chair and tried to get him to break through, but he couldn’t and Error had made a noise—some sort of whimper or whine or something like that and passed out. That had almost made Fresh mirror his actions. God, he was so scared that he would lose and Error would die.

Error had been so…vulnerable. He never wanted to see the other like that again. It was unnerving to see someone so strong look so small.

And now, the aftermath would be the hardest part of everything. It was one thing to talk someone down from killing themselves; it was another thing to convince them to keep living. Hopefully, Geno and Fresh could convince Error to do just that. Hopefully.

He gazed some more at the couch, watching the rising chest just to settle his own nerves.

All he had left was hope.

~oOo~

(Geno was out the door and on the road before he could catch up with himself. He was on autopilot behind the wheel, making the turns and stopping without registering anything. His hands shook on the steering wheel, even as tightly clenched as they were.

Error wants to die.

His hands tightened even further. Fresh’s phone call echoed in his head. Everything had been so shifted by those few words. He had felt an immediate urge to go over and make sure everyone was okay (Fresh had sounded so scared and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what Error felt). They were his younger brothers. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them happy.

…It seems he failed at the last one.

Error wants to die, Geno.

I had to stop him from hanging himself, Geno.

I had to stop Error from killing himself.

Geno took a shaky breath and pressed down on the gas pedal. He had to hurry.)

~oOo~

Fresh frowned, staring at the empty cupboards. Well, mostly empty. There were a few cans of food—the majority being soup and fruit—and a few packs of ramen. The fridge was no better, a half-gallon of milk, a few water bottles, and a package of baby carrots.

This was not enough food for someone to live off of.

It could be that Error was just running low now and usually had more than this, but given what he had tried to do tonight…that didn’t seem very likely.

Fresh leaned against the counter, arms crossed. How could they have missed the signs? He thought back, but the last time he had seen Error before this was over a year ago; he couldn’t remember the exact occasion. He remembered his brother acting normal, his usual grumpy self. There was nothing screaming about the way he acted, nothing that should’ve made them stop and ask if he was alright.

Nothing—but wasn’t that always what happened? Nobody ever saw signs of this from their loved ones. It was only after, after they were gone, that anyone looked back and tried to look for it, berating themselves for not seeing it before.

It was almost what happened tonight.

He looked out into the living room, and stared at his brother’s body on the couch. He could hear the other breath if he listened close enough, which slightly eased his heart.

Error was still alive.

He made it in time.

His brother was still alive.

Geno was coming.

Fresh shakily inhaled and took off his glasses as his vision blurred. He wiped away the tears and tried to calm himself. When that didn’t clear up the tears, he just pressed his hands over his face and tried not to sob.

Everything would be okay.

It had to be.

~oOo~

(Everything looked normal when Geno arrived at the apartment building and he hated it. Something should be happening, something to show that things aren’t normal. They aren’t. It hurt that the world continued on like whatever was happening with his family didn’t matter, that it was irrelevant.

It hurt.

But despite that, he didn’t want to continue. He didn’t want to face this reality of not normalness. It was confusing. He wanted the world to face this new not normalness, but he didn’t want to face it himself.

Then there was Error, his brother…who tried to kill himself. The core of this mess. No matter what the world did, or how he felt, Error and Fresh would always take top priority. They were more important than he was. He could be dying and they would be more important than he was, that was just how it was.

They deserved to be happy.

Error deserved to be happy…he just didn’t see that.

Geno had to help him realize that he really, truly did.)

~oOo~

Error woke up.

He should not have woken up.

He lay there for a minute, limbs, eyelids, heart too heavy to move. He stared at the blackness surrounding him, a feeling of sudden surrealism anchoring him down. This shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t be aware right now. He shouldn’t be able to feel the couch beneath him, feel his chest rise and fall, hear the steady beat of his heart. He should be feeling calmness and relief, or maybe nothing at all. Not this…emptiness.

He should be dead. He was not.

Why?

Why was he given another chance to fuck things up even more? Why did he have to sit up and go outside and live until he was dead? Who gave him the right to be the way he is and deserve to be here, in this apartment, more than everyone who actually struggles does?

Error doesn’t want to be here.

Error wants to be dead.

But he wasn’t, and that’s a problem.

For some reason, his apartment seemed smaller. Quieter. Sitting up, he can see why. Fresh was still here, and he was looking at him with expectance, leaning against his counter with his sunglasses resting there, looking lifeless. This is all set up to become something Error can’t handle right now, not when he needs to get Fresh out so he can try again and hopefully succeed.

Fresh will thank him later. He has to. He needed to.

Error blinked at him. “Oh.”

“You’re awake.” Fresh noted, shifting forward so his weight is on his feet.

“You’re still here.” Error said, ignoring the blatant concern in his voice. If he doesn’t hear it, it doesn’t exist, and if it doesn’t exist, that means he’s right in what he wants to do. “Why’re you still here?”

Fresh furrowed his brow. It’s weird seeing him without his glasses. The words are missing. He misses the words. “’Cause I’m worried. And scared. And confused.” He visibly hesitated. “Why’d you do it, Error?”

“Do what?”

If he pretends nothing was wrong, nothing is wrong.

He can still do it.

There’s a tightness in his chest.

He needed to still do it.

“’Do what’—Error! You tried to—” Fresh cut himself off, glancing away quickly before coming back, voice lowered, “kill. Yourself. Why?” There’s a familiar wonder in his voice now, just like all those years before. “I don’t understand.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Error stood, back turned on his brother. “You should go.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Not until you tell me why. Please, Error.” Fresh is pleading. He shouldn’t plead. He’s never pleaded before. “What happened? Why did you do it?”

The more his brother talks, the tighter his chest becomes. It’s pulled inwards on itself and coils around and around and around, taking his breath with him. Around and around and around. Around and around and around and Fresh is still pleading with him and he might cry and there’s a voice in his head telling him to—

—just fucking drop dead you sack of shit, God, you always fuck things up like this, first pushing away Ink and your family because of your self-pity and now you’ve caused Fresh distress, and Geno’s probably on his way, and everything’s wrong because of you, you worthless son of a—

—and Error snaps before he can stop himself, the words falling out of his mouth in a stream of truth that he isn’t able to end.

“Error—”

“You want to know why? Fine! I’ll fucking tell you why!” Error heaved, unable to get the right amount of air, “The why is because I need to. The why is that it’s the only thing that makes sense. The why is that death is the only way I can ever move myself forward and get better.” He avoided Fresh’s eyes. “I can’t do it like you and Geno. I can’t just heal and manage my emotions and grow up. I’ve tried all that already.

“I’ve tried.” His gaze flicked up anyway and he saw Fresh looking unreadable, a scary thing from someone who used to feel nothing. “I tried the patient route. I tried the determined route. Heck, I’ve even tried the brute-force way I always do things in! It. Doesn’t. Work. And I hate myself for it, because what use am I to you and Geno if I can’t move on like you did. I hate myself for it because if I can’t move on and get better like you two did, what am I still trying to do by living every day and expecting nothing to change. Why do I fight to survive if I know for a fact I’m never going to get better, I’m never going to be like you and Geno, and I’m only going to be useful, or ‘better’, when I’m six feet in the ground dead?!”

Fresh pursed his mouth like he was going to say something, but Error plowed his way through. “I’m not a good person, Fresh. If I’m not better now, then doesn’t that only prove it? If I’m still rooted in old issues, doesn’t that say something about my soul? And if there’s one thing that’s true in this world, it’s that people that don’t grow from their mistakes after the first round don’t deserve to live.”

“Error…” Fresh broke in, voice soft. It’s like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal or a raging toddler. Error is neither. Error is nothing. “Error, I—”

“Don’t! Whatever bullshit you’re about to say, just don’t!” Error shook his head. “I already know. I know that what I’m saying is silly, I know that you find humor in it. Oh, poor Error, what does he know about not being able to get his emotions, what does he know about not getting better? He’s never had to deal with many issues before, not serious ones! We know how to handle his crashes; it’s been studied before. The treatment for it is the best out of all of our issues. He can handle things. He should be able to handle things.

“But get this: he doesn’t. He’s blindsided too much because of his own stupidity that he fails to see what he can do. He wallows in his own self-pity so much, that he can’t pick up the damn phone and call someone for help. So easy! Error doesn’t like easy. He purposefully always makes things harder than they need to be. He’s so pathetic for thinking he can handle things. He’s so goddamn pathetic for blaming everyone but himself for his issues.

“In fact, he’s so pathetic, you could call him worthless! Because here’s the big picture: he can get better, he just finds it too hard, so he doesn’t! He blows everything out of proportion, avoids talking about ways to help himself, blocks posts online talking about it. He knows he’s worthless down to his bones, so he makes sure no one can ever view him as anything else. He’s mean, he’s disrespectful, he’s temperamental. He’s every bad trait rolled up into a living thing, and that’s just not right.”

Error’s soul was beating fast.

His hands were shaking.

He was scared.

(He was relieved.)

“With all of this evidence, you come to the conclusion that Error really fucking deserves to die already and save everyone the trouble of ever getting to know him for who he is.”

~oOo~

(There was a roaring in Geno’s ears.

His hand was shaking.

‘And I hate myself for it, because what use am I to you and Geno if I can’t move on like you did. I hate myself for it because if I can’t move on and get better like you two did, what am I still trying to do by living every day and expecting nothing to change’…‘Error doesn’t like easy. He purposefully always makes things harder than they need to be’…‘In fact, he’s so pathetic, you could call him worthless!’…‘Error really fucking deserves to die’

How…how dare he. No one had the right to say things like that about his little brother, not even himself. A rage grew in him, combining with the pain and sorrow that had infected him with the words. How dare he. He would make him pay, in a gentle and loving way.

Geno’s eyes narrowed.

He was determined to show Error exactly how he felt.)

~oOo~

Error stood there, chest heaving slightly. There was a lump gathering in his throat, wetness gathering under his eyes, but he ignored it. Ignored it all. He glared at Fresh, who had stayed silent through his rant, gazing at him with sad eyes. Which was bad. It was wrong. He knew the eyes weren’t sad like that because of how Fresh felt, they were sad for Error, sad for how he felt.

He hated it. Hated it so much.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fresh should be angry, confused, disappointed, not sad, especially not sad for Error. It wasn’t what he planned. Wasn’t what he imagined. They were supposed to be glad he was gone, not sad.

Error was supposed to be dead.

Fresh opened his mouth to say something, probably to lecture him, reprimand him, or ask more stupid questions, delaying things. He didn’t get the chance to.

The front door slammed, making both of them jump. Fresh turned as Geno entered the room, scanning the two of them before glaring at Error. They must’ve not heard the door open. He must’ve heard everything. That was good. He wouldn’t have to explain it again.

Fresh tried to say something to Geno, but their brother rushed past him, an angry look in his eyes. Error watched with wide eyes, feeling nothing, as Geno stood in front of him and slapped him. He gazed blankly at the wall, slowly reaching up and holding his stinging cheek. It didn’t hurt. Not really. It was more shock than pain. He looked back to his older brother, who had eyes that were glistening, saying nothing.

Geno wasn’t supposed to be here either. Why was he here?

Fresh—he must’ve called Geno, told him what happened, the idiot—stepped forward a bit, holding out a hand as if to stop any other injuries from happening. “Geno—”

“How dare you,” Geno hissed, ignoring Fresh, who fell silent, watching. Error did the same, trapped by eyes that were full of pain, anger, sadness, and everything in between. “How dare you say something like that about my brother. My sweet, kind, happy, lively little brother.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Error frowned, confused. He was Geno’s brother. What was he talking about?

Geno took a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He fell limp on his exhale, like all the anger left his body. He looked back at Error with softer eyes. “You are an idiot, you know that? You don’t get to say things like that about yourself.” It looked like he struggled a bit, wanting to reach out and grab Error, but holding back. “And you’re wrong, anyway. You aren’t any of the things you think you are. And…” his voice lowered to just over a whisper. Error had to strain to hear it. “And you don’t deserve to die. Nobody does, but especially not you. Especially not you.

“I love you, Error. Fresh does too. Mom, Uncle Asy, Ink. They all love you. It would kill them to see you die. It would kill me. So…you can’t die, not for a while. Do you hear me? You can’t die like this. You can’t. Nothing good will come of it. Nothing! Not like you might think. Everything would be wrong; everything would be slow. If you died, you would be gone for good, and everything wouldn’t make sense.” Geno paused, voice cracking. He pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes and breathed for a moment.

No. He was wrong. Had to be wrong.

If Error died, everything would make sense. It would fix things. Geno and Fresh would stop looking back at him, stop trying to pull him back into something he can never be in again. They would move on, move ahead. It made sense. If he died, everything would be good. If he died, they would stop being held back.

But he knew that they wouldn’t see things like that, too blinded by the silly fact that because they were family, Error would stay alive with them, get better with them. That Error didn’t hold them back, keep them from becoming something more. He was broken. He was messed up. He had nothing to offer them anymore, so why did they still stay?

Why couldn’t they understand that?

Anger surged through Error. He glared at Geno and took a step forward. “You don’t understand!” He growled, struggling to place things into perspective. “I’m still messed up. I haven’t gotten better like you have. I don’t have anything to offer anymore, so I have to be taken out of the equation. If I’m gone, then you can stop with me. You can move on.” He clenched his fists by his side. “Why can’t you understand that?!”

Geno stepped forward and met his glare with his own. “Because I care about you!”

“I have nothing to offer you, like I said!”

“God Dammit, Error, caring isn’t about what someone can offer someone!” Geno shouted, throwing his hands up. He reached forward before Error could step back and grabbed his upper arms, holding him in place and staring him in the eye. “Caring isn’t something you earn. It isn’t something you should have to earn. It’s a given—between siblings, family, friends, lovers, it’s a given.” He tightened his grip, shaking Error lightly.

“Do you see? I don’t care if you can’t offer me anything. I don’t want it in the first place. I will still care about you. You can’t change that. You dying can’t change that. I don’t care if you’re messed up or not, broken or not. I don’t care if you’ve gotten better, or if you’ve gotten worse. Why? Because. I. Care. That’s what caring is: accepting someone despite their flaws, their problems.”

No. No, it wasn’t. It was—

It was—

It was…

Error was confused. This was wrong, he knew it, but he didn’t know what was right. This hasn’t happened before. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be right. He was supposed to be dead. Death was…

Death was the only way he could fix things, right?

…right?

Error didn’t understand.

He shook his head, opening his mouth to protest.

Geno stopped him. “No. Listen to me. What do you think, that you need to offer something to be better? That you need to be better to be good? That you needed to have been better at the same time Fresh and I were? That’s wrong. It’s not good, Error. It’s dangerous, even, if left too long. It can cause this.” He waved his arm around the room, gesturing to what might’ve happened here. “You shouldn’t feel like this, you know that, right? You need help. It shouldn’t have been left unchecked for this long.”

Geno shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? Tell someone?”

Error’s mouth was dry. The lump in his throat was back. His mind was running circles, trying to make sense of the things he was being told. He didn’t understand anything. “Didn’t…didn’t want to bother anyone. Worry anyone.”

Geno softened even more, something sad entering his eyes. “Oh, Error.” He reached up and tugged him down into a hug. Error let him, his head falling down onto his shoulder. He didn’t hug back. “You’re not a bother. You’ll never be one.” Geno’s laugh tickled against the side of Error’s head. “And you make people more worried when you don’t talk to them, you silly goose.”

Error shifted. “I’m sorry.”

Geo pulled back, shaking his head. “Don’t be. It’s fine.” The soft smile slipped from his lips as he grew serious. “But, Error…I need you to not die. I need you to let Fresh and I help you. I need you to let us help you to get better, to make sure you don’t die. Can you do that for me?”

Error blinked. His hand twitched by his side. “I…I don’t understand.”

Fresh came forward and threw an arm around Error’s shoulders, a smile on his face. “What Geno means, my Glitchy Broskei, is that he wants you to let us show you how radical life can be. To help you feel rad instead of unrad, okay?” He looked to Geno, who nodded, smiling too. “You just need to let us.”

Error blinked again.

He looked from Fresh to Geno and back again before turning his gaze down to the floor.

It didn’t make sense, not to him. And yet…the words that were said, what Geno said…it sparked something warm inside of him. It had scared him. He was so used to being empty inside, cold, that he had forgotten what warm, happiness, had felt like. And even if it had died out now, knowing that he could still feel it, after all this time…

It had the heaviness lift just a bit.

“Okay,” he said quietly, making sure both his brothers could hear. “You can try.”

~oOo~

One year later

“So,” Fresh asks, a shit-eating grin on his face, “when’s the wedding?”

“Shut up. Ink and I aren’t dating.” Error tries to hide the fact that his cheeks are turning yellow. It’s a true statement, but Hell will freeze over before he lets Fresh know how he feels about his friend. He shakes his head as Fresh laughs, looking out the window.

It’s been a long year.

His brothers dragged him into sharing a house with them, shifting his view a few blocks to the right. Somehow, it made a difference. The outside felt brighter and looked alive whenever he looked out the window, and it drove home the fact that he was still here to witness the sunrise every day and see the night take over. Geno would always snore from the room over—the walls were thin—and Fresh would stay up till dawn playing his games as loud as he can without waking anyone up, but they never interrupted that beauty. They might’ve even enhanced it, now that he looks back on things.

Error did go back and reapply at the bar. Might as well keep working the job he had before he tried to kill himself, was his explanation to his brothers when they asked why. Nightmare was a mess when he walked through the door, immediately hanging up the phone despite being with a customer, leaping over the counter while starting to cry. It took him several attempts and a phone call from Dream in order to calm him down enough to talk, and even after the talk he was still emotional, trapping him in a hug and flipping off a customer when they tried to order something.

Ink had the same reaction when they visited, or more like Fresh remembered one night who exactly picked up on the situation to begin with. Unlike Nightmare, though, Ink never cried, at least not in front of Error. He could still make out the film, but no tears breached the surface. He just smiled once the explanation was finished and hugged Error tightly, moving away after a moment to say: “Okay. You’re okay now. And I’ll help you to continue being okay, if you’ll let me.”

They also visited the doctors a few months later to finally cement the fact that things were going to get better. Error was diagnosed with depression, and Geno and Fresh had an updated checkup to make sure things were still good with them. He was prescribed medication and they picked it up that day. It was hard to keep up with at first, difficult to trust that the tiny tablets would help and make a noticeable difference.

But they did. He can feel it now. It’s a strange feeling of being himself and not being himself, being able to trust that he can sit here and crochet and that he’s good at what he does. He can finally believe in the parts of himself that tell him he’s good and worth sticking around. That voice in his head that tells the lies is still there, but it’s so much quieter than before.

He’s himself in every way he wasn’t.

Error’s alive.

Fingers make their way into his vision and he jumps, meeting Geno’s eyes. There’s a bottle in his hand and Error jolts again as he remembers that he hasn’t taken his meds yet. Thank the Stars for Geno being here when he is.

Geno keeps his hand under his, though, when he grabs the bottle. Error’s confused until he sees the question in his eyes, a silent asking of ‘How are you feeling?’

How are you feeling, Error?

He plays this question over a bit in his mind, thinking of all the good days and the bad days, his friends and family, and what happened in this year. It’s been a journey, but has it been a satisfying one? How much has he changed since the start? Has he changed at all? What makes him the judge of how he feels now when he couldn’t trust himself before?

Did it work?

How are you feeling, Error?

He thinks he can answer that question honestly now.

Error looks up and smiles. “Better.”

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