A New Era

Chapter 16: There Should've Been A Chance

Error glared angrily at Ink's door. This was stupid, letting himself come here. He had better things to do anyways-

    — I wonder how much longer you have until you stop fighting —

The words echoed in his skull, bouncing around before settling as a constant static. No, he couldn't just leave; not if it proved that squid's point. Besides, he could just teleport out before things got too much.

    Ink's wrong, he thought as he knocked on the door.

    The moment he heard shuffling, he wanted to teleport away. Open a glitchy portal and forgot this. But when he heard a gasp of pain, he paused.

    What the-, he thought as he opened the door before nearly crashing at the sight.

    Even as Ink rushed to button his shirt back up, Error had already seen the shattered rib cage with black paint coating the bone like oil. He could still see the pain evident on Ink's face even as he forced on a smile through his panic.

    "C-can I help you?" Ink asked, wincing as he did so.

    "whAt THe hElL HAPpeneD tO yOUr riBCAGe?!" he demanded, going to press the call button on the desk to page the hospital wing.

What he didn't expect was for Ink to grab his hand, "No! Don't call- oh stars! I'm-."

Error didn't hear him as his vision filled with errors and his hearing with static.

~§~

    The first thing to come back was his hearing. Someone was hurriedly running a pencil on paper, making a muffled scratching sound. Along with that, he could hear the sound of rain upon glass.

    Then came feeling. There was something draped over his shoulders, almost like a weighted blanket. Geno always draped a blanket over him when he was crashed, so he wondered if he'd been taken home.

    Finally his vision started clearing up. With his vision also came smell, immediately telling him that he certainly wasn't home. The strong scent of paint attacked his nasal cavity, nearly choking him.

    He was still in the squid's office. He blinked the last of the errors away, his vision met with a dim room. Looking to the window, it was early evening and a heavy rain had started. Droplets hit the window at a steady rhythm, making Error relax.

    Ink wasn't in the room. Error was concerned at first until he heard paper ripping to his left. Looking over, the door to Ink's bedroom was wide open, a soft, golden light emanating from within. He heard something hit the floor before the scratching sounds started up again.

    He looked down and saw a black blanket draped over him. He couldn't deny that it was nice, so he pulled it tighter to himself as he peaked into Ink's room.

    He stared in awe and horror at the sight he saw.

    The awe came from the painting that were hung on the walls and a few draping from the ceiling. The place seemed full of color and life even in the dim lighting; he couldn't help but wonder what it could look like in sunlight.

    The horror rooted itself in the mess the room was in. Inks weren't known for their tidiness, but this was the most atrocious thing Error had seen in all his years.

    The floor, walls, curtains, and even the bed was stained in various colors of paint. Half finished canvases and wadded paper were strewn about the floor, ensuring noise upon entry. The smell of paint was from the multiple open paint bottles and paint cups scattered around the room. It was as though the squid had started a project in one place and then moved, forgetting the paint cup and simply getting a new one.

    After scanning the room, he finally found the short skeleton. He was seated on a stool, furiously scribbling in a sketchbook. He seemed lost in his work, not noticing the glitched one's staring.

    Error quietly pulled out his glasses and put them on. He blinked before locking onto Ink's cheeks. Watercolor-like tears were flowing down his face, dribbling into his lap. It almost scared Error how he wasn't making a sound despite appearing to be sobbing.

    I'll talk to him tomorrow, Error thought, making to leave the room.

    What he didn't expect was to hear the ripping of paper before a wadded ball of it hit him in the face.

    "ACk!" he yelled. For a wad of paper, Ink sure could throw it.

    The scribbling stopped as the skeleton looked up before his eye lights widened. He quickly wiped at his sockets, setting the sketchbook aside.

"I'm so sorry!" he said, standing up and nigh perfectly avoiding the mess as he approached Error. "H-how long have you been standing there."

Error hadn't realized it before, but Ink was wearing poet clothes: a black top, black slacks, and a bright red sash going around his waist. He noted how much more casual this Ink was.

: yOU ShouLd'VE GivEn HIm a chANcE soOnER :

"lONg enOUGh TO aSk wHY yoU WeRE crYinG," he replied, handing over the blanket.

"O-oh," Ink replied, deflating. "That... was because I accidentally made you crash."

"YoU'Re a TERriblE liAR."

"..."

Ink looked away with a sigh, "I don't want to talk about it."

Silence stretched on before Ink shook himself and gave a shy smile.

"I didn't mean to crash you," he said apologetically. "I'm really sorry about that."

    "YOu neEd MEDical aTTEntioN," Error said bluntly.

Ink winced, "I can heal myself. It'll just take a bit, but I'll go easy for a few weeks."

Error stared at him. Was he serious?

"INk, ThaT'S SerIOUs daMAge TO YouR RiBS," he said, pinning him with a look before confusion fell over him. "hOw dID yOU mAnAGe aN inJURy lIKe tHaT?"

Ink's jaw tightened before he looked away, gingerly crossing his arms over his chest, "Just a mistake on my part. I'll be fine, really."

Error gave him a doubtful look before a cheery smile broke over Ink's face. There was no doubt it was forced; few Ink versions for the center were bipolar enough for that.

"Anyways, you should be getting home! You were out for a few hours and I tried calling Fresh but he wouldn't pick up," the short skeleton said with faux cheerfulness.

Error blinked. This Ink had done everything he could to help out with the crash. Weighted blanket, low noise, low light; he distantly remembered, from centuries ago, Fresh saying he'd submitted a form to ensure someone knew how to care for him during a crash.

How had he allowed his core coding to demonize this new Ink. An Ink, he realized, avoided everyone if given the chance, didn't mind papers being days, weeks, or months late... an Ink that got himself badly wounded and wanted no one to worry.

I messed up, he thought, allowing himself to be led out of the room and into the hallway.

"Get home safe," Ink said quietly, before closing the door, leaving Error in the dim, gray hallway.

Why hadn't he given Ink a chance before?

——

Error finally got over himself!

    Also, sorry for this being late. I'm on a big trip rn and passed out once I made it to the hotel room 😅