Overridden: A Googleplier X Child! Reader X Bingsepticeye (Complete)

Chapter Six

He sat, tapping his fingers against his desk. His house felt empty, and he almost felt alone. Those two days with (Y/N) were enough to make their absence almost uncomfortably unusual. Perhaps he was lonely, which, was natural. Google did a good job programming emotions such as loneliness, and regret to get him to interact with humans more. Fortunately, for him, he thought, he was able to ignore some of that less than necessary coding. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed the holographic screen before him to blip away, reserving much needed energy. He hasn't rested for days, and his power was getting dangerously low. The small battery symbol in the uppermost corner of his vision blinked in an annoying manner. He rubbed his eyes, throwing his glasses down onto the desk. Through the emotionally, and physically tiredness, his thoughts snaked back to (Y/N).
   He knew that Bing took them to his place, with Sam and Tim, but other than that? He had no clue. How were they doing? Well? Bad? They seemed pretty distraught, hearing what he had to say about his plan. It only made sense. They probably already had some separation anxiety, thrown in some social anxiety as well. They'd want to be with people, but their own subconscious would make it hard to get close, as a form of protection. It can't be hurt by others if there is no reason to care about them leaving.
   Google let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his dark brown hair, pulling it back, then weaving it in ands out between his fingers, repeating the process if it slipped back into place. He was deep in thought, eyes closed, when he eventually fell asleep, thoughts melting into data-induced dreams. They were more like memories, or synthetic scenarios, created by those who created him. Sometimes, he'd dream of being human, sometimes, he'd dream of being put together, taken apart, then put back together. Those dreams, he hated. Thinking he were something other than what he was, or remembering... Remember the painful process of being built.
    Today though, he dreamed of himself standing in a room. There were no doors, but there was a window on each white wall. He looked around, feeling relatively relaxed. Finally, he stepped forward and peered into the window on the right.
   He blinked. "(Y/N)?"
   They sat in some grass, a toy car in hand. They were laughing, their apartment behind them, pretending the car was flying. They looked a little younger than when he last saw (Y/N). He frowned as they turned to the apartment, then stood, and ran inside. Someone must've called them...
   Google glanced at the next window, slowly approaching it. (Y/N) stood there, a little older, gazing out into the window. They were curled up onto their bed, only a small mattress on the floor with a few blankets on it. They had tears in their eyes, some things vibrating every once and a while. Google had the impression that some things were being slammed, or thrown deeper in the house. He frowned, gaze flickering between (Y/N)'s (E/C) eyes. He swallowed, then moved on, even slower than the last.
   He jumped back, (Y/N) hitting the wall, mouth agape, tears streaming down their face. They cried out, but he couldn't hear it. He watched as their Father glared, and slammed their door shut. They curled on the floor, shoulders shaking, face hidden in their small arms. Google slammed a fist against the window, but it didn't move, didn't make a sound. "(Y/N)!"
   But they didn't move to look at the window.
   He watched them for a long time, pressing his hands against the window, staring. Eventually, they lifted their head, sniffling. They pressed their ear to the door, waited, then slipped out, limping ever so slightly. Google hesitated, but then moved to the last window.
   He froze. He saw himself, carrying them to his place after taking them to their own place. He wasn't able to see their face then, but now? Now he could, and it made his breath stop in his throat. Red nose and eyes, tear stained cheeks, and a hopeless gaze cast down onto the concrete sidewalk. His face burned with shame. How could he have done that? Left them? Why? Why was he feeling these things now, of all times!
   "(Y/N)," he whispered, then-
   With a jolt, he woke up, eyes flying open, and chest heaving. He panted, taking in ragid gasps of air, sweat beading on his forehead. He scrambled for his phone, and dialed Bing.
   "Hello?"
   He rubbed his forehead with his free hand, starting to calm down from his nightmare-induced panic. "B-Bing, hi. Um...?"
   Bing's voice on the other end of the line seemed irritated. "Google, do you know what time it is?"
   Google ran a hand down his face, and let out a sigh. "Bing, how is (Y/N)?"
   Bing went silent, and Google started to regret calling.
   "You know what? Ne-!"
   "Google? Are you... Are you worried about (Y/N)?"
   Google held in a groan, sitting back down onto the edge of bed. Why was he calling, exactly? Was he worried? ... It had to be the dream-synthetic nightmare. It freaked him out, for reasons unknown to him. "No. I just realized how long its been since I've last heard from them. They left in a less than satisfactory state of mind."
   Amusement was laced in Bing's voice. "That's called worrying, Google. I realize that you aren't used to it, but-!"
   Google growled, then ended the call, slamming phone down onto his desk. It wasn't a second later that it started to ring. Google eyed the phone, let out a small sigh, then picked up the phone.
   "Sorry, sorry!"
   Google scowled. "Just give me an answer, you irritable copy-cat."
   Bing snickered, but then seemed to calm himself, voice soft, yet deep, like he was trying to be quiet. "(Y/N) is... Well, there's no use lying. (Y/N) mental health isn't, in any way, satisfactory. I'm no expert, but according to a quick search, they appear to be going through Separation Anxiety, as well as trust issues. A strange combination, I know, but... Well... (Y/N) has taken to needing to be in a room with someone, constantly. Either Sam, Tim, or myself must be able to see them at all times, and vise-versa. The thing with that, though is-" he suddenly stopped talking, and Google could hear his muffled voice in the background, as well as the voice of someone much younger.
   He waited patiently, beating back the part of him that wanted to ask Bing to talk to him. The two seemed to go back and forth, and he distinctly heard his name. At that, the feeling grew, and he shifted, uncomfortable. "Hey? Bing?"
   "Hold on, (Y/N). Yeah?"
   "Let me talk to them."
   Bing hesitated, and mumbled something under his breath. "(Y/N)? Do you want to talk to Google?"
   There was the murmur of (Y/N)'s voice.
   "Well? What did they say?"
   Bing cleared his throat, and almost seemed distracted as he answered. "They... They said 'Why would I want to talk to Google, when they wouldn't want to talk to me?'"