Forbidden Friendships

A Sappy Apology

Who knew being trapped in a room with someone, for what feels like a week, could weigh you down so much... Ink thought as he stared at the white wall in front of him.

He was lent against a wall, his knees bent upwards and his head resting on them as he had his arms wrapped around the top of his knee caps.

Not too long ago, the creator suffered a small break down which led to an argument. He couldn't really stand being in such an empty place for so long, and the odd test from earlier that day, that was ran by the feline scientist, didn't help.

At least a day had passed since they discovered the chips in their necks and earlier, their "test", resulted in truly being a punishment for an attempt to pry the chips out. The event resulted in the blasts from each chip being almost deadly and each of them taking turns being shocked after not listening to the instructions of: Remain silent. Don't move. No resisting. No questions, and no backtalk or glares.

If one of them made a mistake as simple tasks started to come with the set of instructions, the other was shocked.

It got to the point were neither one could hardly stand anymore. That's when they were both thrown back in the cell and they began to bicker. Stress had gotten the best of both of them as they shouted that it was the other's fault that they were nearly shocked to death. The argument too, lasted far longer than it should have.

Currently, the artist continued to not look at the destroyer who sat on the opposite side of the room.

Ink felt a burning in his "gut" and had to continue to fight back tears.

Though a good amount of time had passed since their fight, the words that were said still seemed to be burning and haunting him on the inside.

Ink closed his eyes and attempted to bury his head in his scarf.

I shouldn't be fighting back such feelings... The vials were never this strong before. Maybe it's something Sci did to us... I guess I should cut back on how much I drink from each vial to have better control. The creator thought.

Meanwhile, the destroyer sat near a corner of the room, his back turned towards the creator, sitting in a similar position. He took a quick glance back at the creator before facing forwards, staring at the plain wall again. He couldn't seem to figure out why he felt guilty even though he threw out the words that hurt the most.

He started to recall the argument and how he basically called Ink worthlessly, weak, and said how he wished the creator was dead a long time ago, followed by much cursing. His language being quite colorful, to say the least.

Usually this wouldn't be bugging him. Perhaps he might had lost his temper due to stress along with being on the edge of nearly screaming, but usually, from what he could recall, Ink wouldn't be taking it as hard. From what he could recall from the past, the creator would had just offended him back, teased him, mocked him, or had just laughed it off.

Error growled to himself after taking yet another glance at the creator.

Why do I feel, bad about it... Why do I feel guilty? He deserved it! Freaking out and yelling like he had. Thought the destroyer as he took yet another glance back at the creator.

He watched the artist and heard the deafening silence seem to surround him.

That's when what sounded like muffled crying filled the room.