Cross Stitching, Fixing My World

4 | Detached

Warnings: None
Word Count: 1716

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I followed the skeleton and we were met with two beanbags, a singular throw-pillow on each of them, with a small coffee table in between. Error sat on one and motioned for me to sit on the other one.

"Would you like something to drink?" the skeleton asked me as I sat down. I thought for a moment and decided that I shouldn't worry about anything.

"Do you happen to have a(n) F/D?" I asked in hopes that he had the drink I've been craving for literal years. It's been a long time since I was able to indulge in my favourite dishes and drinks, and it would be nice to do it now with all the serenity surrounding the two of us.

Error placed his elbows on the coffee table; his left hand held his chin whilst his other free hand made a small motion before blue strings shot out of it. The strings went into the air and above the void. I looked up and finally noticed the entire collection of blue strings hanging on the ceiling.

I watched as Error gently pulled down the strings he let up. A light container of an unknown material hovered along with the strings. He brought it onto the table and placed it beside him. He did the same string grab motion, but this time, two cups came along. He placed the two cups on the coffee table and began to pour a strange liquid into the two cups from the container.

"I hope you like it," his glitch-like voice was soft and deep as he spoke. He handed me one of the cups that were now filled with a familiar shade of colour. I examined the mixture warily, hesitating slightly if I should drink it or not. What have I got to lose though?

I brought up the cup to my mouth and drank. As the liquid washed over my tongue and drained down my throat, I couldn't help but feel surprised and satisfied at the same time. It was just F/D! Probably the best one I will ever have.

Error smiled as he watched my eyes light up; he took a sip from his own cup as well. "I'm surprised you're conscious and aware," he spoke after drinking.

"What do you mean?" I asked,

"Most of my visitors tend to be in a zombie-like state once entering my void. Unable to comprehend anything around them, they just stare straight ahead with lifeless eyes," he explains, resting his chin on the palm of his hand once more. I tilt my head.

"How come?" I asked again after taking another sip from the cup. Error hummed before replying.

"Whenever a person or monster is provoked or in a state of danger, there is an old term used to represent the choices they make to survive," Error began, looking at me expectantly as if I knew what he was talking about. I thought for a moment.

"The fight-or-flight response?"

"Correct," He confirmed before continuing.

"When someone feels threatened, they choose to either fight the object or person they feel the danger is coming from, or run away from it..."

"...But what people don't think about is how they could easily get burned out after these decision makings,"

"Not only in dangerous situations do people get burned out; small problems piling up and becoming big problems, overworking one's self, and generally being under a lot of stress are causes of being burned out," he explained, adjusting his glass slightly whilst speaking. I tried to relate his point to my question.

"So whenever someone gets burned out, they end up here?" I ask as Error smiles again.

"Not necessarily," he says, performing the familiar motion with his hands and summoning his blue strings. They went up into the ceiling and brought down several objects.