utau oneshots

error's clone carries a sketchbook

It can't otherwise be him, or is he trying to impress someone ?
(Oh, by the way this is interactive)

Error never needed to rely on balancing and blending colors. Frankly, he hated them down to the core. And yet he's found himself in a shop behind the crowd, waiting until something came to him. With an open sketchbook. The lack of expression, it's white, was mocking him since he first flipped the page. If he tried turning over more, there would be more white. In no shade darker, in no less of an expanse. How was he supposed to know how the guy worked his magic on an empty canvas? This was a starting guess either way, though. He was lead by it into this very seat and he was going to carry on until he knew.

The table jerked just then. And Error only realized how he underwent a nervous spasm when he met point-blank stares with them. The stranger he was puzzling over for a week. He shut his mouth into a firm line from yelling, rambling, or otherwise. Whatever his brain wanted to project without thinking.
"I can help you with that," they bubbled.
"With drawing, you know. I'm kind of good at it myself."

Error really only let himself say, "What?" Even after hearing him perfectly, and zoning out of any other unlisted background noise. Instead of pulling a face, however, the stranger stole a seat in front of him. His table was diminutive and short, like how tables should be to suit the 'minimalist' aesthetic of a coffee shop. Once Error saw how the silence was becoming as empty as the pages in his book, he forced Error to talk.
"Look, I'm fine. I don't even draw in the first place so, you don't need to be doing this." He eyes them again. From afar, he held about him the saunter of a measly kid almost. And just the eyes alone made him think he housed half the stars in the sky. Up close and personal was another thing completely. Error might've considered help from the masters after all. He nudged the book forward and sighed.
"Do you know me?" he asks. The stranger, already eager to help, paused some s hi t and looked back up at him. The stars took on a comical switch to question marks and spirals for a split second until he blinked and allowed himself to think it over.
"Maybe once, yeah. Is that important?"
Error boggled back at the sight of him.

"Sorry, I just thought I was obvious enough. I..."

> I've been watching you. (1)
> I want to start drawing. (2)

: 1 :

Error bit down his worries and continued, "I saw you pass me by in public, more times than not, and I decided to get inspired. It's sort of been a first for me since I don't engage in creative works..."
"You look up to me?"
Error nods pathetically, but the stranger saw some fun in it and laughed, as he rose his head to wonder.
"I didn't know I was an idol, oh my god, I need to make a pen name for this! Ink X, Inky Black, wait no." So-called Ink tries not to lose his composure but even Error's grown that of a smile on him.
"Ink, it's fitting for you. I'm-"

"Don't tell me yours, hold on." Ink transfixes a glare on Error like a prize without much of a warning. And when he couldn't guess right away, Error's patience cracked in time to glitch and fragment parts of his body in rectangular snippets. After meekly trying to see him as 'Nair' or 'Zero', he finds an option drifting close to his shoulder, then vanishing just as he registered it.
"Error?"

The storm around him was sucked into his heart to rage, flame, and steadily cook his cheekbones until he made the fleeting excuse to take off his jacket. He pressed himself against his chair.

Ink sounded it out like something from the alphabet, good grief.

"Correct," he mumbled. Error tried swinging his arms, in case that would ever help with cooling what burned his face. But Ink, much to his luck, was dismissive about it and turned his focus onto the void Error had trouble filling in.
"So, you want to start drawing, right? How come?"