Our Pen

Chap 1

(I've decided to start another project I'll probs never finish XD have fun lol)
Sorry not sorry for posting this at 12am :)

**You**

A loud crash awakens you from your daydreaming 'slumber'. You're in your art room, faced with serious amount of inspiration, but no way to put it on paper.
The walls and ceiling are covered completely in painted doodles, and your cemented floors are covered in pain tins and spray cans, along with many blank, finished, and discarded canvases.

A paintbrush staying firmly behind your ear, having been dipped in black ink (that had started to cement to your unnaturally white hair that everyone thought was bleached), though you had no idea it was there.
The natural light from the basement window (wowie, you're painting in a basement, with a small window! To you, it's both a prison and a haven. You never leave until something is finished, but this case is an exception) had quickly darken from its orange-y hue to a more bluish shade, thanks to the moon and stars.

Drowsily, you walk up the few wooden steps to a hallway, and enter your living room, looking like the undead. There are two skeletons- one loud and hyper, the other glitchy and curious. "What are you doing in my house?" You grumble, causing their eye lights to snap to meet your face.
"What?" You question, barely awake, "Did I get paint of my face again?" You rub at your cheek, and black paint slowly flakes off. "I did. Whatever, I'll get it later." you say, before studying their stances. You already recognized them from the Undertale AUs, so you knew these two skeletons were Ink and Error. You drew them so often- at this point, it wasn't even funny. You could do it with your eyes closed without trying.

Your friend constantly compared you to the Star Sanses, because you were almost a carbon copy of Ink (Horrible memory, lack of emotions, love for art, short attention span, etc), knitted as a secondary hobby (Blue/Swap), shot a bow + threw knives for sports when you ever figured you needed physical activity (Dream).
Your friend was most similar to Error, sassy and loves chocolate. They were so alone when you found them at the park, crocheting (Error crocheting is canon; not knitting btw) an irregularly long scarf. They also break practically everything they touch: any art you make, bones, kills plants... Sometimes, their yarn just goes missing, seemingly having been deleted from existence, or when they do have yarn, it never seems to run out.

You shake your head to get a better grip on matters, ordering them to sit on the couch while you grabbed some tea and hot chocolate. For some reason, they complied, and you gave Error the hot chocolate, and Ink one of the two cups of tea.
You also gave him a pack of skittles (something you admittedly, stockpile when you go to the store), and joined them on the couch. It was quiet for a long moment. You had nothing to say, and frankly, they didn't either.

It didn't help that you were completely emotionless and had no social skills. Eventually, Ink tossed you his sash, telling you to pick one and drink. You refused. This confused him greatly, but you told him that you liked not hating yourself and everything you do.
"WhAt dO yOu mEaN?" Error asks, which you respond, "I am what people would call... Depressed. I can't feel the emotions required to be that, so the statement is inaccurate, but if I were to drink the vials, no matter the emotion, I would probably end up dead by my own hand."

Error shifts uncomfortably, and Ink sighs, "So this is what happened to other me? What about other him? You friends too?"
You nod and say, "Yeah. Bff/n's fine. Take care of them sometimes. Black hair, blue eyes, destroys almost everything they touch on accident. They're a lot more mentally stable, thankfully. Mostly because I suck at comforting people, and I know that feeling bad doesn't really help you be at your truest potential, but it is needed in order to feel better."

Ink squeaks awkwardly, "Wow, that sure was a mouthful- uhh... So we're kind stuck here now, so..." You decipher what he's trying to ask. "Yeah, I'll let you stay here a few days in my guest rooms. I have two, and a room for Bff/n because of how often they come over. They're not here right now, but I'll call them here tomorrow." You say, getting up to go to the pantry, grabbing a whole party size bag of chips and 12 packs of skittles.
"I'm going to the paint room. Don't enter or expect me to leave for a while." You said, going back to the basement, completely aware that they're following you. You open a bag of skittles, shoving them all in your mouth. Error and Ink are at the door, watching you. Ink has decided to stay quiet, staring at the paintings in the corner of the room. 

Taking a deep breath (you don't choke on skittles, even though they're still in your mouth, somehow), you look for a paintbrush. Finding a thick one, you dip it in a random paint tin and fling it across the canvas. Ink almost gasps at the atrocity.
Error rolls his eyes, watching your movements wearily. He's not sure if you've detected them yet. You take your phone out of your back pocket and dial a number, letting it ring and putting it on speaker. You place it on the table as you continue to stare at the slashed-with-paint canvas in front of you.

"Hhhello?" Your friend answers, and you ask, "Undertale or canyon?" The person on the line (bff) goans, "It's two-thirty in the morning, why are you arting this late at night?" "Answer the question." You say firmly.
"Obviously, undertale. Aren't you tired?" Bff/n responds, and you scoff, "Aren't you? Besides, I wanted to ask you to come over tomorrow. I've met some people I think you'll really like."