'Fake' [REWRITTEN]

Imitations

Fake and Fate.

Ink hated those two words with as much hate a soulless skeleton could get with fake emotions.

He hated the word fake because everything about him was fake. Every single show of emotion. Not the pain, not the happiness, it was all fake. Along with that, his thoughts on getting ride of the Bad Sanses and Error. He wasn't sure about getting 'rid' of someone. He also knew there was a balance. He had to act like he didn't though, else he'd be seen as much worser than he already is seen.

They'd ask why the creator of AUs is so against them when he knows about the balance, that they are helping maintain it. They most likely would even question if he wants the multiverse to fall apart. Does he?

Fate—the other word he hated—because it was the being to create Ink. The one that forced him to create and copy so many AUs that it tipped over the balance. Ink wouldn't have bothered to protect them if it wasn't for the being, lingering behind him and whispering, telling him to until he gave up and did as it said.

It was the one that had made him soulless, thus making him unable to feel real emotions. He doesn't care if it includes being sad, angry, disgusted. As long as it was real.

Fate dared covering it up with paint vials, an attempt at emotions. It didn't feel right. It never did.

As Ink sat there, in the middle of a meeting discussing various topics (it always circled back to the Bad Sanses and the Destroyer). He couldn't help zoning out as he thought.

Happiness, what did it truly feel like?

Fake happiness pained his nonexistent soul, because he knew he would never truly feel it. Imitations do it no justice, he wanted the happiness that makes people laugh. That makes them smile, the one that makes them forget their problems. Like the one Dream always deals with on the daily.

Ink was abruptly taken back to the present when an erupt of laughter sounded. He didn't know what it was about, but he couldn't help his imitations of jealousy and anger take over—only for it to quickly sizzle back into emptiness.

Perhaps it was best for him to only watch. To watch everyone laugh and smile, perhaps tears of joy.

...He should put away those paint vials.

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The meeting was over now. Ink decided to go to his room inside the base, immediately taking off the work belt across his chest and laying it on his bed. He looked at the colorful paint vials, thinking.

He ended up leaving it there as he went over to his desk. He sat down and placed a sketchbook in front of him. He opened it to a blank page, staring at it for a moment. One would think he was afraid of anything that is without color, without design. He wouldn't say he was afraid, it was more like an odd sensation. One that caused his fingers to twitch and reach out to fill in the space with such designs. As if it irked him. Perhaps that's just the vials speaking.

He grabbed a nearby pencil and began sketching his ideas.

Ink, a protector, a creator, causing more trouble to the multiverse by doing this. By creating this AU. Surely the Bad Sanses think:

Ink, the one who tips over the balance. Ink, who tries to get rid of those that try helping the multiverse balance; who ignores the truth being told to him. Ink the bubbly, childish, idiotic skeleton that will only cause pain.

He will be the doom of us all if he doesn't stop. Not like he cares though right? Creating AUs must be so fun and if he runs out of ideas, hell why not make a copy! Because that's just what—

The tip of the sharp pencil snapped from Ink pressing too hard. He blinked, his eyelights switching colors once he did. He grabbed the sharpener and sharpened the pencil back to how it was.

"I really need to ease up on the vials." He said out loud to himself before continuing his sketch.

Safe to say, only those on the opposite side know what's wrong with him.

Except for the soul part, he hasn't bothered to tell anyone and no one has found out yet. To be honest, he doesn't think he'll reveal it any time soon. Then again, anything seems to be able to happen.

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Ink flipped to another blank page, crumbling up the previous one. He threw it at the trash can that was right by the door, only to end up hitting Dream as he was about to enter the room.

"Need something?" Ink asked as he looked at Dream pick up the crumbled paper and drop it in the trash can that was nearly full of other crumbled pieces. Ink didn't apologize for hitting Dream.

"I wanted to check on you, it's been hours." Dream had a worried expression on his face, "I know that you always do this but I can't help it."

Ink was about to answer when they both heard Blue yell from downstairs. Something about a new recipe on tacos...

"Oh, I was also going to tell you about Blue's new glitter tacos. That was another reason I came up here. Come downstairs." Dream slightly cheered up, most likely the positivity radiating off of Blue affecting him. His tone still sounded worried.

"Alright!" Ink responded with enthusiasm, standing up as Dream left his room and went downstairs.

Blue may have just saved him, or not. Was there something to be saved? Maybe a small lecture from Dream.

Speaking of that, how would they react if they found out about the truth. Or if anyone else found out.

Maybe nothing, they'll see him as a monster and would instead see the others in a new light. A better light. What if they even held him captive in order to make him stop creating? Fate will surely get angry at that.

Ink downed the rest of his vial of yellow paint before leaving his room.

It would be great if they did. The multiverse will surely be a better place.

That means he'd be able to disappear without anyone caring in the multiverse.