Chains of Negativity

Chapter 18

☆ *steals left pointer finger* ☆

Nightmare pulled a cream coloured peasant shirt over Inks head before letting him step into army green overalls. It felt nice to finally be clothed, but Ink was getting used to being naked. He appreciated the blankets a lot more; they were nice, warm, and comfy.

Today Ink was being let out of hi- Nightmare's room and allowed to mingle with the Bad Sanses. If they wanted anything to do with Ink anyway. It was always a 50/50 chance to whether or not they were gonna hurt Ink or ignore him.

Nightmare took his hand and led him like a toddler-honestly Ink hadn't walked in a while and was toddling-to the living space. Ink got a few glaces, and a wave from Cross before he was sat on the sofa. Ink almost sunk into the plush material, as it was so soft.

He got a wary glance from Error before he moved beside Ink and handed him two needles and a ball of cotton wool.

"You're learning," Was all he said, and all Ink needed to hear.

He began by showing Ink the relevant stitches for the time, a knit, a yarn over, and a decrease. These were the stitches that made up a washcloth. It was something easy and small for him to start in on.

Ink had to be chided over and over when he stopped knitting and kept looking at the yarn. It was a beautiful pastel blue, one Ink couldn't keep his eyes off of. Soon-after a lot of mistakes and redos-he had the first half done, it looked like a triangle. A flag almost.

"Do you like the overalls? The embroidery?" Error asked.

Ink looked down and saw a mushroom surrounded by bees and purple and white flowers embroidered on his pocket. It was mesmerising.

"Did you-?"

"Yes. I sewed the overalls too."

Ink looked closer and pulled at the seams, seeing thin blue strings connecting the fabrics in a beautiful, talented stitch.

"You created these?"

"Hold it. I made them. If you don't stop, that needle is going into your nose." he threatened .

Ink snickered and continued to knit the decreases, the triangle getting its other side to make it a square. He soon finished the simple stitches, it only being about 1,255 stitches in total, only took him two hours, but with the television playing in the background and his hands busy, the time flew by.

"Dinner!" Horror called, trudging back to the kitchen.

"Already?" Ink asked in shock.

It felt like it had been morning 20 minutes ago, but it was already dinner time? Ink was picked up and taken to the dining room by Nightmare and his tentacles, and he was sat down beside Cross. He immediately felt awkward and out of place, not being at a table in months and never with his enemies.

Horror grabbed his food first before everyone-surprisingly civilly considering his food issues-grabbed their food. They began passing baskets and bowls to each other, piling their plates with the food and complimenting Horror's cooking. Ink was hesitant to take any of the food he never really ate much, but upon Cross and Horror's insistence he covered his plate with the delicious looking food.

The meal was far more energetic than any meal he'd eaten, especially the ones with the Stars. He enjoyed the change of pace, and despite how he didn't really add anything to the conversation Ink did really enjoy the calm energy. It was nice, and the warm and comforting food matched the mood around him. Ink leaned over, resting his head on Cross's shoulder as he quietly ate.

Soon the meal was over. Ink was overstuffed with food they kept piling on his plate. In the Star's house Ink was never allowed to leave food on his plate. It wasn't a rule, per say, but the comments from Dream were too much for him.

"Oh, not hungry? Looks like you don't need dinner." Dream would always say.

Ink skipped so many meals there because left a few carrots or the fatty bits of the meat on his plate at a previous meal. He learned to suck up the sensory issues in order to eat the next meal.

"Ink?" Nightmare asked.

Ink snapped out of it and realised he was staring at the empty table, everyone looking at him in concern. It was almost eerie.

"Yeah?" Ink asked, afraid he accidentally left something on his plate.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah! The food was great! thank you so much!"

He wanted them to know he was grateful, so there could be no denying it.

"No, are you feeling okay? You've got a thousand yard stare on your face."

"Yep! I'm fine!"

Nightmare hesitated before nodding and leaving the table. He wasn't believing a word out of Inks mouth. They all saw how he looked. That's a look you can only gain through trauma, and if there was anyone who knew trauma, it was the Bad Sanses.

Cross helped Ink back to the couch, where the rest of the Sanses met them. Nightmare had gone to his office, but it was nice to have company, and the company not trying to murder you.

"What do you guys do for fun?" Ink tried to break the awkward silence.

"Video games, movies, Error likes fibre arts, so we were roped into that at some point too," Killer said, leaning over the couch.

"Oh, that sounds nice." Ink replied.

"What do you do for fun? I mean, other than drawing or whatever." Dust asked.

"Other than painting? Uhm... I like baking. I'm not allowed to, though. Dream never lets me."

"Well, Dream's kind of a dick, right?" Killer said, rolling his eyes.

"I mean I guess, but I'm just not allowed to." Ink shrugged.

"Why not?" Dust asked.

"He can't cook." Cross added, having a lot of experience watching Ink burn pasta. "Probably one of the only reasonable rules Dream has ever put into place. Tasting anything Ink makes is like taking a bite of a piece of charcoal."

"Heyyyy!" Ink whined, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Well you are, don't shoot the messenger!" Cross said, smiling and putting his hands up defensively.

Killer opened his mouth to ask Ink another question, but in that single moment he looked back at Cross, Nightmare had scooped him up in his tentacles.

"It's bedtime," He huffed out and disappeared with Ink.