Faking A Smile [Errorink] (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 23 - Bathroom Walls

((I literally have no experience with how hospitals work. ))

TW- self-harm

Ink's POV

The following half or maybe even an hour later, they had told us that he had a couple penetrating wounds, following with other cuts. It might take months for them to fully heal.

We couldn't enter his room yet, so Dream tried to convince me to go back home.

I wasn't very fond of the idea. I'd stay at the hospital as long as I have to, but Dream wasn't going to let that happen.

Three days had passed by and I haven't slept. The doctors understood that I was worried about Error's well-being and would let me visit from time to time, but not for long.

One of the many nurses had lightly knocked on the door and peeked from the crack of the door. "Sorry dear, visiting hours are over."

".. Already?" I looked up at her.
She had nodded with a hum.

My eye lights had trailed back to Error's unconscious body.

The nurse had made her way over next to me.
"Look, I know you're worried. You've been visiting a lot and you look more tired every time."

I let out a sigh. She was right, I look like shit. I felt a hand on my shoulder, assuming it was hers.

"I may be a stranger, but it is my job to help others. You need to take care of yourself."

I looked at her. I could tell she felt sympathy, which is somewhat understandable in its own way.

Sooner or later I had agreed and left while taking a last glance at Error.

While walking to the entrance, or in this case exit, I could see Dream running up to me.
He quickly pulled me to the side to let others pass by.

Dream turned to the side to catch his breath, but then looked back at me.
"I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Wouldn't it be pretty obvious that I was at the hospital though?

I nervously chuckled, "Sorry."

It fell quiet between the both of us. I could almost feel him staring at me. Making eye contact would be weird right now, so I looked to the side.

I felt guilty.
Dream sounded pretty worried when he told me that he was looking for me.

"I just wanted to know how you've been holding up since.. you know."

I nodded. I don't think I need to be reminded, honestly.

He sighed before I felt him tugging my arm towards himself. I couldn't help but break down in tears.

I already cried earlier, I don't think I need to again.

Dream started to rub circles on my back. "What's on your mind right now?" He suddenly asked.

I thought about it for a while. Something was on my mind, but I couldn't tell what. It may be in the obvious that Error's condition should've been it, but it wasn't. I'm not able to think clearly. I can't tell what I'm focusing on at the moment.

"Ink?"

I hummed in response.

"Are you spacing out?"

"I guess you could say that." I pushed myself away from Dream, not in a harsh way.

"You look awfully tired. Have you been sleeping?"

I shrugged my shoulders in response. Technically, it wasn't a complete answer.

"Ink..have you?"

I shook my head.

He mumbled something underneath his breath. I could only understand 'worse'.

"I'm sorry. I'm just scared I guess."

"I know. But still, that's not an excuse to forget about your health. It may sound selfish if you think about it in a certain way, but it's true."

"Yeah, I know."

((3rd person pov))

Later that night, Dream had tried his best to make his friend feel better.

"Try to go to sleep. If you need anything or want some company, don't be afraid to call me, alright?"

Ink nodded and tucked himself into his bed.
He could hear the door gently being closed and a portal opening on the other side of the door.

The room was dark, cold, and quiet. It was like that every night, yet tonight felt different.

He kept twisting and turning, trying to get comfortable to fall asleep, but he couldn't.
The bed was empty without the glitchy skeleton next to him.
Although Ink had nothing to do with it, he still found a way to blame himself.

The artist found himself in the bathroom once again.
He had been doing great without that silver blade.
There had still been some inky stains on it.

He continued to stare at the object, seeing the ceiling light reflect off the blade.

"Stupid." Ink said out loud.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!" He yelled to himself, slowly sitting himself down in the corner of the bathroom.

He continued to blame himself. The logic made no sense onto why he'd blame himself, but it did for him.

The artist continued to throw insults at himself, as well as losing control with the blade, not even bothering to try and set a limit with his cutting.

He was frustrated with himself. The one of many skeletons that he strived to keep safe was in the hospital and he wasn't there to do anything about it. The situation almost drove him insane, to just stand by and watch his lover be in such a condition, yet here he was, his pathetic self, crying on the bathroom floor.

"Stupid bitch!" He yelled and threw his head back into the wall. ((Not like it was disconnected or anything-))

He repeated this action until he was tired.
It was one way to fall asleep, not the best, but at least he was tired.
If he had eyes, they would be very puffy by now. His cheeks were tinted rainbow, signifying that it was a blush, as well as a headache creeping up.

In all honesty, he found the bathroom floor a bit more comfortable than the bed, so he decided to slumber there that night.

Word count: 1005
4/19/2021