My Friend Over the Phone

Chapter 35 (Pt. 2)

A/N: when google doesn't give you any info on chloroform but your readers know what's good so you have to change it to Ink busting up Dream's skull instead:

!WARNING! This chapter contains:

- Kidnapping

"...Ink?" Except it wasn't Ink. It couldn't be. He was never like himself without his paints, but something was very, very wrong. Something he'd never seen before in his life. That wasn't Ink. His eye sockets never looked like that. His tattoos weren't that colour. "Hello, Dreamboat." He's never used that nickname before. He smiled at him. Ink doesn't smile when he's off of his paints. He doesn't. He reaches his arms out. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Why don't you give your best friend Ink a hug?"

Dream shook his head. "You..you can't...you're not.." he stuttered, cursing himself for not being able to find the right words. "You're not Ink. You can't be," he affirmed, though still unsure of himself. He looked into the monster's glowing yellow sockets. They twitched violently as their bright smile turned into a frown, tucking their hands behind them. "That's not very nice of you. Maybe you're not Dream with how mean you are to me." Dream faltered for a moment. "Yeah, I thought that maybe we could start over and mend the friendship that you broke, and then you accuse me of stealing my own identity? Why would you do that?" They asked as their shoulders slumped. Dream stepped towards his old friend, reaching out to him. It didn't feel like he was making those actions out of his own free will, somehow. "I'm so sorry Ink, I didn't mean-!" He was cut off as Ink's smile grew manic, taking his hands from behind him to reveal a metal bat. He raised up the weapon and bashed his skull. "Aw, I knew you cared about me!" Their sickly sweet words faded away as Dream passed out.

They smiled. Finally, they could get rid of this nuisance that drove his son away from his duty.

Mere hours later, Nightmare returned to Dream's house to ask him how the search is going. "Hey Dream, have you-?" He stopped, noticing the lack of his brother. He shrugged, leaving the bungalow to go look for his brother. He couldn't blame Dream for taking a break, he has been working really hard these past few days, it just wasn't like him to take a break without anyone reminding him to.

    "Hey Killer! Have you seen Dream lately?"

    "Dust, have you seen Dream?"

    "Error, did you happen to see Dream earlier? I can't find him."

    "Nope. What, is he not at home?"

    "No, sorry."

    "No."

"No one's seen him?" Error asked. Nightmare shook his head, tapping his foot. He was getting concerned. "No one's seen Dream all day! Isn't that a little worrying?" Error sighed. "Maybe he just wanted a day off? He's been working super hard as of late.." Nightmare put his hands on his head, beginning to pace back and forth. "But wouldn't he tell someone where he was going if he was going to leave for a whole day? What if he got dusted?!"

Error got up, walking towards him. "Nightmare, you're over-!" "I'M NOT OVERREACTING!" He yelled, interrupting him. "I already failed to take care of my little brother once, and that's not happening again! Ever!" Nightmare yelled, putting his hands on Error's shoulders. His eye sockets had purple tears pooling in them. "There was a large time in my life where I wanted to kill Dream! Don't you understand?! I'm a TERRIBLE brother, and I don't want to add 'letting my little brother get kidnapped and doing nothing about it' to my track record, okay?!" He pushed Error away and ran off.

Error stood there, processing everything Nightmare said to him. He sighed, kicking the dirt below him. Nightmare's been beating himself up about the Incident forever. Maybe doing this on his own will help him to finally forgive it all. Then again, they all had to be there with him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

He feels numb as he runs towards the village to alert Killer, Dust and Cross of a possibly-missing Dream and an angry, emotionally unstable Nightmare. He's felt like this for a while now. His mind rests on his last real emotion being when he first lost Blue. Is this lack of emotion some kind of coping mechanism?  He's kind of glad if it is, otherwise he'd be far too sad and lonely to put up with anything else.

After alerting all the others who all look as tired as Error feels(especially Dust, what's up with him?), he goes home. He's had to deal with too much bullshit this week and he's feeling like eating the entire tub of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. He grabs it and a spoon, ripping off the sticky note on the tub's lid that reads in very clean writing: "ONLY THREE SCOOPS every OTHER day!!! Eating more than that is SUPER BAD for you!!!!" He flops on the couch, just about to turn on some Undernovela, when his phone dinged in his pocket. He ignores it, not really feeling like talking to anyone. They all agreed to call each other if it was an emergency anyway.

    A minute later, it dings again. He groans, exasperated. His glitches fizzle up to match his irritation as he grabs his phone that isn't holding the spoonful of ice cream. It's from MJ. Wow, he hasn't spoken to him in ages, and wow, that's a lot of words in one text. He skimmed over it, yawning. It was about Dream, asking Error to look out for him and to text MJ immediately if he sees him. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow at the message. Dream hasn't been announced missing yet to the public. No one really thinks that other than his friends..

Oh stars. That's a lot to think about. MJ is closer than he thought.

He sighs, pocketing his phone. He's too exhausted for this shit, and right now all he wants do to is sleep. Stupid Blue, giving him a real sleep schedule so he could no longer stay up for more than twenty-four hours straight. How dare he care about Error's health so much. He got up and put the ice cream back in the freezer. I did only have three scoops of the stuff after all, he thought. Blue's efforts were working.

He silenced his phone, not wanting any more interruptions that would give him even more to think about. He climbed into his side of the bed. On the right, next to the window. His left hand reached out instinctively for the warmth that was usually there, but it wasn't. He retracted it as he remembered. Maybe he should just sleep on the couch. This bed didn't feel the same without Blue in it, and he doesn't like the reminder that he was all alone again. He trudged back down the stairs and flopped onto the couch, turning off the television. The yellow blanket that always rested on the couch was laid overtop himself, and he drifted away.

It was dark. But then it wasn't. Above him, glowing yellow threads were strung across a ceiling Error couldn't see. He saw someone in the distance. He couldn't move his legs, but the other person seemed like they were getting closer anyway. There was mumbling of what sounded like hundreds of different voices who's volume grew as the figure got closer. At some point Error noticed that the figure couldn't walk either; they were tangled in the same strings that covered the ceiling above them. The voices were loud now, and it sounded like there were more of them than before.

The skeleton in front of him had pure white bones, but their head was turned away from him so he couldn't identify who it was other than they were a Sans. They weren't moving or struggling against the strings. But then, the darkness around them began to sink into the other's bones. The voices went silent upon seeing this. It made swirls and dots all over their nude body, creating a strange yet pretty pattern. One of their hands twitched, and the skeleton suddenly grabbed his shoulder. As their arm moved away from their ribcage, Error noticed with dread that they didn't have a soul. their head slowly turned towards him. He stared. Tiny white pinpricks stared back. They opened their mouth, and although their face lacked emotion, his scream was filled with anguish.

He jolted and sat up. Ink wasn't there anymore, and he was back inside of his house. The screaming echoed inside his skull. He brought his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms, rocking back and forth as he tried to calm down. The voices. The screaming. The strings. Error might be free now, but it seemed that Ink was not. He didn't even know the other was trapped like he was. He couldn't do this. Everything hurt. It was a dream. Just a silly dream. Who knows if Ink is actually like this?

He'll have to talk to the others about this tomorrow. But for now, he turned Undernovela back on. He didn't want to sleep tonight.