Chapter Text
The Essence of Hatred
***
Error
Error, Horror and Fell run up the stairs that lead to the Judgment Hall. All the while, Error feels his soul pound urgently with every step he takes as the events that occured in his home replay in his head like a bad film.
He could have stopped Ink, had Error reacted faster.
That thought is incredibly frustrating, if anything. What if he does not make it in time? What if, in this very moment, Ink has become too corrupted and is already about to-
No. Don't you dare finish that thought.
This is not a game Æther is going to win. Ink will live because Error will make it happen. He refuses to accept any other outcome.
Not only could he have reacted faster... Error could have performed the soul synchronization right there and then.
Despite everything, Error feels his soul stutter and leap while cold beads of sweat run down his face. Just imagining doing that with Ink throws Error off more than anything, allowing whispers of self-doubt to creep out from the dark corners of his mind.
If it just wasn't something so damn intimate...
Nonetheless, if Error could rewind to earlier this morning when Ink was still within an arm's reach...
...Error would have done it. He would have merged their souls. Because – as reluctant as he is to admit to such feelings – to live in a world where Ink, the Squid, the rainbow moron and the 'thorn in his side', is not in it, is more terrifying than whatever might happen to him during a soul synchronization.
So, Ink is going to live.
This is Error's resolution.
By the time they reach the end of the stairway, a group of skeletons standing by the entrance turns around: Zephyr, Top, Geno, Reaper and Fresh. Relief washes over everyone's faces when they see Error and co approach. (Fresh even waves his hand with that dumb bright grin of his, but just this once, Error is not appalled by it.) Without losing as much as a beat, the two teams meet each other halfway.
„Error,“ Top calls out, smiling at him, „We're glad you made it so quickly.“
„The rEst?“ Error inquires.
„Following after Dream, to the prison,“ Geno replies swiftly. „Ink is somewhere's inside here, moving around. We don't know where exactly, he's hard to catch.“
„It's pArt of Their pLan,“ Error states, knitting his brow. „Have iNk heRe, Dream tHere. To spliT us uP and disTracT us.“
Geno nods solemnly. „Yes, most definitely.“
„And, if I may add my own two G's here,“ Fresh notes, twirling and pulling on his mustache, „Sir Ink is being treated as disposable. His 'Master' is probably not expecting him to return to him anymore.“
As Zephyr and Top look at each other, deeply concerned, the latter puts his hand on his husband's arm and determines, „We must find him as soon as possible.“
„Are we going to split up?“ Fell asks, crossing his long arms in a composed manner. „I think it's the only option we have to find him as swiftly as possible.“
„Yes, we'Ll do thAt,“ Error agrees. „Horror cAn spOt Ink's sOul eNergy fRom afAr, so hE sHoulD stiCk to oPen arEas anD wiNdowS.“
After Horror gives an affirmative grunt, Reaper declares, „Alright, let's lose no time then, team.“
As the group of skeletons darts into the building, Error calls out, „And kEep yOur meTtaphoNs cloSe to yOu!“
***
Why now, of all times, does Error recall a bunch of random memories? That vending machine in the hallway Ink used to kick, the windows Ink leaned out of to record his silly videos, the hallways he once strode through with no care in the world, throwing a glance over his shoulder with those starry eyes of his...
Error would give a lot to see them again.
However, Error shakes his head. Focus, he reminds himself. It is almost as though he is wistfully recounting the memory of the dead. But Ink is still alive, and there will be many more opportunities to form memories of him being stupid.
Error scurries through the golden hallways of the second floor, his eyes scanning his surroundings. When he stops at a branching point, he thinks it is probably wise to ask the question, „So, wHat aRe yoUr fiGhtinG capAbiliTies?“
When Error turns his head, Top responds all too calmly, „Well, I can juggle bones.“
As Top lifts his index finger, a triangle of bones appears above it, floating and circling in the air.
„And I have Betelgeuse at my side,“ Zephyr states while said blaster peeks out from behind him, on cue.
Error deadpans at the two. „...So I taKe it yOu doN't haVe maNy exPerieNces whEn it Comes to FightiNg.“ He represses a sigh and adds, „WhateVer, I'll maKe it so Ink foCuses soLely on Me.“
„So Ink would even attack us?“ Zephyr mutters solemnly.
„Don'T woRry aBout it,“ Error responds before he lifts his mettaphon up to the side of his skull. „sEeing aNythiNg?“
„...No,“ Horror grunts on the other line.
Then Error lowers the device and glances to his left and right.
„Let'S go lEft,“ he announces soon after, so their group of three continues to walk in a fast pace.
„Now, do you have a more concrete plan in mind?“ Top inquires. „When we do find Ink, I mean.“
„FiGht hiM, sUbdue hiM, foRce thE soUl syNc to HappeN. There'S noThing eLse,“ Error explains bluntly. „If His hYperpaschoSis reaChes iTs liMit aNd he tUrns weAk, thaT'll be oUr beSt chaNce.“
„I see,“ Top nods. „So be it. We'll end Ink's suffering today.“
As the three of them reach the end of the corridor and hurry up the stairs, the restlessness in Error's soul resurfaces, and he grits his teeth. He is capable of watching over Ink's parents. That is not the issue. But since Error concedes that he would have merged souls back in his house, he wonders...
...now what? Will he still leave that task to Ink's parents instead?
„So what should Top and I do when Ink attacks us?“ Zephyr inquires.
„yoU sTay baCk,“ Error determines.
„Don't worry,“ Top reassures while squeezing his husband's hand. „Despite everything, it's still Ink, somewhere deep down.“
Error's eyes linger on their joined hands a second too long, so he quickly averts his gaze.
Suddenly, a voice calls out from Error's mettaphon.
„Hey,“ Horror speaks up, „think I saw somethin'.“
„WherE?“ Error asks.
„Standin' in the center courtyard now. Looked up and saw 'im, I think, up in the third floor.“
„When you look outside from there, the big old tree is on the opposite end,“ Fell chimes in. „Hope it helps.“
„AlrighT. We'Re moVing,“ Error declares.
***
Two rows of golden pillars adorn the sides of the long corridor. As the sun shines through the windows on the right, it casts shadows of the engraved Delta Rune on the polished tiled floor. While the group of three has hurried to catch Ink in time, he is nowhere in sight.
...That is until they hear the distinct sound of something wet and viscous hitting the floor.
A moment later, Ink emerges from a pillar on the left, limping. Since he is neither wearing Error's scarf nor his coat, the black stains on Ink's white shirt stand out all the more. Even now, liquid is pouring out of his orifices persistently.
„Ink!“ his parents call out in unison. However, all Ink does is stare at them wordlessly.
Error can only imagine what must be going through Ink's mind: cruel whispers from Æther and the creators, coaxing him into giving into his negative emotions, all until he breaks apart like a used tool.
And yet, knowing full well that Ink is going to lunge at Error any moment now with the intent to hurt and kill, and that Error should be afraid of him...
Ink is still shaking from the cold.
Error clenches his fists.
„Hey,“ Error calls out, „Ink, yOu-“
However, Ink does not give them another break; he dissolves into a puddle and rushes at them.
While Top and Zephyr flinch, Error lets three red walls of bones appear in front of them, reaching up to his hips. Ink jumps over them, lunging at Error.
The latter ducks just in time, letting Ink fly over his head.
Ink transforms back with his hands and knees making contact with the ground. He wheezes and vomits even more black.
Error spins on his heel and shoots out his strings, grabbing Ink's blackened soul. The latter's body jerks in response.
„Quick!“ Top cries out before he and Zephyr make a sprint for Ink's soul.
Yet before they can reach out, Zephyr glances to his left and shouts, „W-Watch out!“
Behind a pillar emerges an inky blaster, one head taller than Error. When the viscous skull darts at Top and Zephyr, the latter throws his partner to the ground. The skull flies past the couple, biting through the strings with its fangs.
Meanwhile, Ink snaps his head back to Error and stands up. His soul retreats back into his body.
Error's gaze falls onto the sharp, inky bone in Ink's right hand. Before he knows it, Ink charges at him.
Error parries Ink's strike with a bone of his own in the nick of time. In the corner of his vision, Error notices another blaster slowly taking shape, mixed with ink and hyperpaschosis.
Bravely, Betelgeuse fires a beam at the inky blaster thrice its size, melting away parts of its left socket. However, the much larger skull crushes the other under its weight shortly after.
Swoosh, Error's blaster appears. It aims at the wicked blaster about to form, but it is one second too late. As it fires its beam, Ink's blaster tilts to the side. The laser hits one of the windows, causing the glass to shatter in an explosion.
Error, still stuck in a bind, gets suddenly pushed back by Ink. As Error falls down on his back, Ink is about to pounce on him-
Then the right side of Ink's ribs are struck by three blunt bone projectiles, causing him to stagger and almost lose his balance.
„Ink!“ Top calls out. Even though he and Zephyr attempt to approach him as quickly as they can, they keep stopping abruptly due to the blasters flying past them. „Please stop!“
Ink stares wordlessly at his parents, perhaps contemplating whether or not to attack them next. It gives Error enough time to get back on his feet and reaching out to his strings running down his cheeks.
However, Ink's gaze snaps back to him immediately. He lunges at Error with his sharp bone again, forcing the latter to drop his strings in favor of raising his weapon.
The corridor is filled with sounds of squelching ink, beams firing, and the clinking of bones. Error can only occasionally glance at Top and Zephyr, dodging Ink's blasters as his own tries to protect the couple.
Where are the other morons when you do need them?! Error grits his teeth as he keeps parrying Ink's blows.
Red bones sprout out of the ground, aiming at Ink's legs. However, the letter's agile footwork makes it seem almost impossible to hit.
Before Error knows it, his back bumps against a pillar. Ink's free hand shoots out to grab Error's neck, causing a vile burn to erupt with his touch. With his other hand, Ink plunges down his weapon.
Error lets go of his own bone so he can seize Ink's wrist before he can stab him. Just as Error's hand begins to tremble under the strain, footsteps resound to his right-
„Sir Error!“ a pompous voice calls out.
Suddenly, a familiar pink portal appears to Ink's left. A cane shoots out of it, knocking out the bone of his hand. Next, the cane swings and hits Ink square in the chin, causing to let go of Error and stumble backwards upon impact.
This time, Error's strings wrap around Ink's torso and his soul tightly. Then the former takes two steps back. Because of the close distance he fired his strings from, the threads are rather short as well. They are barely a meter apart.
„Well, aren't I as reliable as you remember me?“ Fresh inquires, cocking his eyebrow.
„Help tHe oTher tWo ouT as wEll, wiLl yoU?“ Error grumbles.
„Not even as much as a 'thank you'? That's my Error!“ Fresh chuckles delightfully and jogs off.
Then Error's focus shifts to Ink completely.
He watches as the other's body, clothes included, turns as black as ink, about to change shapes, but it does not last; when he reverts to his normal self, he coughs out more fluids.
He is running out of time, Error realizes and gulps.
Unexpectedly, Ink glances to his right, at the broken window. A cold gust of wind blowing in wrecks his body with shivers. Then he looks back at Error with that unmoving, uncanny grin of his, not saying a word.
Error's eyes widen as realization dawns on him. „...Ink,“ he stammers, „don'T evEn-“
Suddenly, Ink pulls on Error's strings with all his might. Error almost stumbles over his own feet. „W-Wait!“ he calls out.
With a grunt, Ink drags the latter to the edge of the window.
„I-Ink!“ Error exclaims, his voice high-pitched. „DoN't-!“
Ink allows himself to fall backwards, taking some of the broken shards still clinging onto the frame with him. The force of gravity mercilessly pulls Error towards the window as well, and he lets out a yelp.
„Sir Error!“ Fresh exclaims, alerted.
Error's knees hit the bottom of the ledge, the impact causing him to topple over.
He finds himself falling, with Ink.
Instincts kick in, and Error dissolves the threads on his left hand to shoot out strings towards the open window above him. Luck has it that Fresh grabs them in time.
Error cries out in pain, but he quickly shuts his mouth and hisses through his teeth. He has not expected something to be more agonizing than that one time when he had to hold onto Ink's hand so he would not fall down the CORE, but here he is now, being pulled and stretched from both Ink's and Fresh's weight. Wonderful.
Error hears Fresh grunt above him as the latter attempts to keep his grip on the strings without falling down as well. Fresh is hunched over, his brow furrowed.
Then Error looks down. The distance between them and the ground may be 30 meters, give or take. Survivable, but it would be foolish to test their luck.
Next, his gaze darts over to Ink. He is suspended like a slack puppet as though he surrendered to his fate. Still, Ink is trembling uncontrollably as his soul – now thrice the size of a normal one – gushes out like a black fountain.
„Error!“ two voices calls out ere Top and Zephyr rush to Fresh's side, embracing the latter from behind to help pull the other two in.
„N-Not too forceful, gentlemen,“ Fresh warns. „The strings are about to snap.“
Then Error realizes it too: Two of his five threads are gone. It seems like a handful of his threads are not enough to carry the weight of two people.
Meanwhile, Error can make out the sounds of the blasters still struggling in the background... meaning he cannot summon his blaster here just yet, or else the men pulling them up right now would be too vulnerable. Crap.
When Error's eyes fall onto Ink's soul again, he cannot help it.
He feels beyond pissed off.
Error's promise to find a soul for Ink has been snatched away from him by Æther. And there it is, that stupid little thing, over an arm's reach away and taunting him with its presence. Frustratingly enough, it will remain a significant part of Ink now. His hatred, his anger, his fears, but also his happiness, his excitement, his sorrow, all encapsulated in that fragile, broken clump-
Then Error is struck by a moment of epiphany.
His promise is not lost forever. Not yet.
He can still make it come true... with his own hands.
Albeit it is not the way Error and Ink imagined it to go, the former can still return Ink's soul so it belongs to himself and not Æther or some creators.
With his own hands...
„...Hey,“ Error speaks up, not averting his gaze from Ink, „brinG yOur blAsteR doWn heRe so yOu caN puLl hiM up aT thE saMe tiMe.“
„Oh! Right!“ Zephyr blurts out.
After that, 'Betelgeuse' flies down and under Ink's back. Despite its relatively small size, it tries its best to nudge Ink closer to Error while the other three skeletons are pulling them up. By the time Error's hand is almost in their reach, so is Ink's soul to Error.
A strange emotion blossoms in Error's chest. A sense of urgency, pride... perhaps even possessiveness.
This is the only explanation as to why Error summons his own soul at the tips of his fingers.
That is right. Ink will live because Error said it so. But Error will also be the one to make amends and stay true to his promise.
After all, he always keeps his word.
A moment later, a bright light erupts from where Error's and Ink's souls touch. Fresh startles, almost losing his grip on the remaining two threads.
„S-Sir Error?!“ he exclaims while Top and Zephyr gasp out loud.
„W-What are you doing?!“ Top asks.
The hot pain washing over Error's entire being is to be expected. It even reminds him of his haphephobia, funnily enough. Glitches buzz across his body involuntarily, threatening to conquer his vision. Still, he catches sight of Ink thrashing in his binds, likely in pain, likely to reject the other.
„Error?! What the hell?!“ a voice shouts, Geno's. He is looking out of the window to the left, face aghast. However, Error pays him no mind.
His world turns dark the moment the last string snaps.
***
…
When Error's senses return, he is immediately struck by something... overwhelming. The hot pain has been replaced by a tight, suffocating pressure in his chest, as if his nonexistent insides were contracting. He can clearly hear a low drone in his skull and blood rushing through his bones like a wild stream. His hands are shaking too.
What the hell? Where is this anxiety coming from? Even more curious: his glitches are not buzzing as obnoxiously as usually even though that is the first thing that happens when he is under stress. Can he even crash here in the first place? And where is 'here'?
Error blinks several times, finally aware of his surroundings.
He realizes that he is in a pitch-black tunnel. Even though Error can neither see the walls nor the floor, he can still make out the contours of his own body clearly, surprisingly enough. Furthermore, a white ring of... sparkles? Lights? Miniature stars? Is dancing in front of him. It leisurely rotates in the air like the world's laziest kaleidoscope, shining softly and occasionally reflecting different colors as well, like cyan, yellow, magenta. Error squints his sockets whenever a bright light happens to hit his eye directly.
Bizarre.
„...Ruru?“ a meek voice calls out.
Whatever trance he is in, Error snaps out of it in an instant. „Ink?“ he responds.
Then, without hesitation, Error steps through the ring of lights. While he may not know where the hell he is heading at, he allows his guts to lead the way.
„...Uh, where are we?“ Ink asks.
„Don'T yoU reMembEr?“ Error replies matter-of-factly. „You wEre figHtinG us. And I meRged oUr sOuls.“
„Ah...,“ Ink breathes out. He sounds exhausted. „So... a soul sync between us? “
„What eLse?“
„I'm just surprised... you actually went through with it.“
„Have yOu eVer knOwn me As a coWard?“ Error counters. However, he cannot help but feel flustered when the realization truly hits.
Error and Ink, and their souls are merged.
For stars' sake, that is even worse than a damn hug.
The gnawing sting in Error's chest dulls ever so slightly, resulting in a strange bittersweet twinge.
Eventually, the darkness around Error grows softer, lighter, like walking towards the exit of a cave. Soon, it just... dissipates into nothingness.
Error finds himself on a trail in the midst of an unknown grassland. Occasional groups of trees are sprinkled across the lime green field, yet not enough for this area to be considered a forest. However, every tree is in a different state: barren and lifeless, lush and bearing fruits, colorful and dry, as if the region could not decide on the season. The sight is contrasted by a dull lavender sky with no clouds around.
Just 200 steps ahead, Error spots several rundown buildings, an abandoned, forgotten settlement, it seems. When he squints his eyes hard enough, he believes to see a small figure cowering against the wall of a house.
Ink.
For a brief moment, Error's unease is overwritten by the relief of seeing him.
When Error starts to walk, he notices the large rain puddles covering the muddy ground. Nonetheless, he does not care if his shoes or pants get wet, as nothing about this place is real anyway. Still, he slows down when he notices something peculiar about the reflection in the water.
It shows a gray sky and powdery snow covering pine trees. The name 'Snowdin' comes to mind, a memory that is pulled out from the depths of Error's subconscious. And Error himself is wearing different clothes as well: a long dark coat, a blue scarf, sandals. He and his reflection examine each other with a curious look.
All of a sudden, Error's reflection looks up at the sky, and everything goes dark. The real Error startles.
„...Hey, Error,“ Ink says. His voice is barely a whisper, yet omnipresent at the same time, like a part of Error's thoughts. „Did I do the right thing...?“
Error continues to stride ahead, creating ripples in the body of water. „...I thinK whAt yOu've beEn up tO tHe laSt moNth is NeitHer gOod noR baD siNce yOu'rE beiNg cOntroLled by SomeOne elSe. You'Re a Victim iN tHis.“
As Error passes by another puddle, he recognizes a deep white space in the reflection, cobalt blue strings dangling from a nonexistent ceiling, holding puppets. Regardless, he spends no time dwelling on the image.
„So, does that mean...“ Ink pauses. Somehow, Error can picture him perfectly in his mind's eye: wearing a frown, gritting his teeth. „...that my actions don't matter...?“
„What I'm sAyinG is yOu've goT no rEsponsiBiLity,“ Error emphasizes. „Or woUld yoU be DoinG tHe eXact sAme thiNgs if yOu weRe soUnd of Mind? I don'T thiNk so.“
„I don't know, to be honest... I can't tell anymore...“
Error stops in front of the figure who is hugging his knees close to his chest. Ink, looking smaller than Error remembers him, peers up. His white eyelights are vacant, devoid of emotions. Unblinking. Then Error takes a peek at the puddle below his feet.
There is no reflection of himself, but of Ink in a similar white space. His chest is bare, exposing his gray bones and patterns that remind Error of cracks. As if in trance, Ink merely stares into the distance with the same type of expression.
„I'm just doing what I've been made for,“ Ink states, prompting Error to look up. However, the Ink in front of him does not move his mouth. „So my actions must matter in some way, at least to them... If they didn't...“ A shuddering intake of air. „...what does it make me? Useless?“
In that moment, Error feels something flowing down his cheeks. Tears?
Then it dawns on him that these must be Ink's tears, just as the uncomfortable weight in his chest. After all... the soul synchronization makes them experience each other's emotions.
When a couple tears hit the water, the reflection shows a river of color descending from the endless ceiling directly upon Ink's head. Orange, green, cyan, yellow. As they coat Ink's bones, he lifts his head, his mouth slightly agape.
„But... as long as I'm doing what my creators tell me... I'm doing them a service,“ Ink comments, his voice strained. „...and I won't be forgotten.“
After Error rubs the tears away, he gives Ink a stern look and responds, „Look, noW thiS kiNd of aTtituDe is pLain wRong. There's NothinG goOd abOut beiNg a Martyr to SomeonE whO juSt waNts to See yoU suFfer aNd uSes yoU liKe a Tool! And nO, I don'T waNt to Hear yoU reFerring To youRself as a 'charaCter'! You Are a PersoN!“
In the corner of his vision, Error notices the reflection being covered by a scarlet cloud.
„Characters and tools... both serve purposes,“ Ink determines.
Suddenly, Error is sucked into the water as though there has never been a ground to begin with. He flails helplessly, sinking like a rock as his vision is nothing but red.
Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.
Panic climbs up his throat, but Error is unable to scream, unable to shut down.
Calm down, he tells himself. This is not real.
The realest thing in this place are Ink's raw emotions nestling in Error's chest, clinging to him like an anchor and refusing to let go.
After 20 seconds, yet what feels like forever, Error abruptly lands on soft ground, surrounded by air again, which he greedily breathes in. Looking up, the ceiling consists of scarlet water, the spot where he fell down from. As a pool begins to form underneath Error, he wonders if the substance could be... DT.
But instead of making sense of a world that is barely logical to begin with, Error spits out a mouthful of bland liquid and gets up with wobbly legs. Then he calls out, „Ink?!“
„...I'm happy you came for me,“ Ink's voice notes, this time more distant than before, „but I'm also... not...“
When Error gazes around in a frenzy, his blood runs cold.
A small room with white padded walls and a clinical scent lingering in the air.
Error gulps, the line between Ink's anxiety and his own blurring together like mismatched paints.
Nonetheless, Error stumbles towards the thick door and pulls on the handle.
It does not budge.
Right after Error curses under his breath, something brushes his arms and legs. A touch. He whips around, but finds no one.
What the hell?
Sweat pools on Error's forehead, now too terrified to move. The phantom touches continue to linger, as hot as iron. They travel up to his chest, cradle his skull, draw lines on his ribs... like invisible hands.
„St-Stop tHat! StOp!“ Error screams and flails around, hoping to shake them off. His glitches buzz, but not insistent enough to drag his consciousness into oblivion.
At this rate, he will go insane-
„E-Error,“ Ink gasps, voice laced with worry.
Error's breath hitches and he freezes, like being splashed with cold water.
What the hell is he doing, cowering in fear? Error is here because of Ink, his past trauma be damned!
Gritting his teeth, Error shakes his head before he snaps his fingers, allowing his blaster to appear. „I've gOt eNouGh of tHat!“ he announces ere a laser beam blasts the door open.
When Error steps out, he is relieved to find himself in the park of Waterfall, except it is way larger. The lake to his left and right extends to beyond the horizon, as wide as the sea. The water glows in a ghostly cyan color, motionless. Meanwhile, a winding pathway leads to the hill where Error and Ink used to enjoy the view, albeit it has doubled in size. Looking up at the pitch-black sky, Error notices hundreds of tiny specks of stars. However, one by one, they slowly dissipate.
Then Error lowers his gaze, staring straight ahead. The mossy ground is almost as dark as the sky, a stark contrast to the dazzling body of water. It is drizzling softly, adding to the puddles scattered everywhere again.
Error clenches his fists, his eyes determined. „Ink, I'm goiNg to Pick yoU up.“
As before, he instinctively knows where the other is: on top of the hill. So he starts to run.
A weak whine resounds in Error's head before Ink responds, „Error... I hate it, I really do... but everything inside me is fighting to keep you away...“
Suddenly, Error hears whispers in the back of his mind. As confused as he is, he focuses on his goal and keeps running. The first puddle he runs past shows a rich, vibrant night sky, adorned with beautiful stars and planets in different colors and patterns, reminiscent of marbles.
Outertale, Error faintly acknowledges in his mind.
„I thought it'd be different, having a soul... but all I ever feel is just...“
Error hisses when the whispers get louder and occasionally high-pitched, like chalk on a blackboard.
„J-Just...,“ Ink stammers, „...everything's too much.“
Once Error runs past a puddle that reflects... him and Ink, observing the night sky together... he hears something squelch behind him. He turns his head, still running.
„It makes me want to- to rip it out, and never feel anything again. It's... it's so dumb. I'm so dumb.“
Figures are emerging from the lake, vaguely humanoid, vaguely shaped like a skeleton. A thick, wet coat of a tar-like substance is clinging to their bones like Nightmare's goop, dripping continuously. Most of them are as black as the sky, their eyes a hollow white. A few others are blue, gray, red.
„Even though I wanted it so badly... and yet...!“
Their hollow eyes abruptly lock onto Error's, startling him. Then he skids to a halt as the figures emerge from the puddle in front of him. They limp towards the skeleton in a zombie-like manner, blocking the way.
A sob rings out. „I-I don't want anymore! I just wanna disappear!“
The navy blue figure is about to lash out when Error summons his blaster and wipes out the group all at once, not leaving any trace. After that, he heads towards the hill once more.
„Hey! Don'T sAy thAt!“ Error shouts to the sky. „You wAnted mE to peRform tHe soUl sYnc wiTh yoU! I knoW tHat's wHat yoU imPlieD tHat niGht!“
„It hurts, though...,“ Ink whimpers. „Don't you hear them?“
With every step that Error takes, the screeches in his head get louder, more obnoxious. Crap, of course he hears them. They remind him of the annoying voices he used to have, but the new ones are more... intense, vicious.
„B-But I can't die just yet,“ Ink utters, „can't fail...“
Error throws a glance over his shoulder, realizing his pursuers are picking up speed. He clicks his tongue and lets his blaster deal with them while Error pushes forward.
Even as the laser rips through the air, even when the screams in his head cause Error's skull to pound, above all, he can still hear Ink's voice so clearly as if he was right next to him. Because their very beings are connected.
„C-Can't disappoint again-“
„But yoU doN't wAnt to dO wHat tHe CreatOrs Tell yOu to!“ Error retorts. „And hEll, yoU don'T neEd tHe aPprovAl of PeopLe wHo'd diScard You wiThouT a SecoNd tHoughT, evEn if tHey CreaTed yoU!“
Finally, Error reaches the stairway that leads to the peak of the hill. As he starts to ascend, he shouts, „Didn'T yoU feeL a sEnse of PurpoSe whEn we RushEd tHe cOre toGetheR to Stop NightmAre?! Or wheN yoU juSt- dRaw, Write, CreaTe, doN't yOu feEl puRpose tHen?!“
„But... our multiverse...“
„Oh, To Hell wiTh it-“
Error yelps when something grabs his leg, making him fall on the stairs. He whips his head around and finds a violet hand sticking out of a small puddle, grabbing him tightly. When kicking does not help, he lets a sharp bone shoot out of the ground, piercing the hand and making it dissolve back into the water. Then Error gets up.
„We caN't briNg it bAck,“ he continues. „So iT's useLess to Cling to The pAst!“
„But... it's the past that shapes us... What are we without it...?“ Ink mumbles.
„The pReseNt mAtterS mOre,“ Error scoffs. „YouR exisTenCe heRe, noT wHat yOu usEd to Be in AnoTher lifeTime.“
„So who am I...? What's my purpose...?“
At last, Error reaches the top. He slows down the moment he sees Ink, the real Ink, sitting on the bench, his arms hugging his knees again. Their eyes meet.
Finally, Error is looking at Ink's normal face again... which is scrunched up, vulnerable, like a kicked puppy. His eyelights are dark blue, shaped like a moon and a teardrop.
Error's tense shoulders relax, if only a little. As he approaches Ink, he glances to the left. Instead of Ebott City, a rocky, coarse landscape stretches out before them, the texture vaguely reminding Error of the moon. In the distance however lurks an enormous cloud. As it wafts in the air, extending parts of itself as if they were arms, it consumes the white stars around it. The Entity.
Even though Error cannot help but shudder, he chooses to ignore it for now. All that matters is Ink.
After Error stops in front of the other, there is a beat of silence. Something thick, palpable lies between them, almost suffocating. Suddenly, Error reaches out for Ink's wrist and yanks him up.
„Error?“ Ink questions, surprised as he stares at their hands.
„The ThinGs thAt I juSt menTionEd, aRen't tHey alSo a 'puRpose' in sOme seNse?“ Error argues, calm but stern. „And yOur fRienDs, yOur fAmily, yOur... shOp, aNd yoUr stUpidly laRge Pen. All of thEm aRe in tHe prEsenT, they'Re sTill tHere, wAitinG foR yoU to rEturn. Are tHey noT enouGh?“
Ink drops his gaze, peering down at the puddle that reflects the Entity absorbing all of Outertale's space. His expression stiffens, but he remains quiet.
„...Am I noT enOugh?“
Surprised, Ink looks up at Error's face. Gone is the sternness in the latter's expression, replaced by hurt. Remembering the vulnerable position they are in, Error cannot help but avert his gaze. Well, crap, but in this world, it is impossible to hide your thoughts and feelings from each other. And the more Error dwells on them, the more intense they become.
„...Ruru?“ Ink whispers.
Error's cheeks are burning more than any touch could. The voices crackle like static laughter, as if to mock him.
All of a sudden, the ground starts to shake. Error and Ink look to the side simultaneously, and in the blink of an eye, the Entity is right in front them, allowing no light to pass through its dark core.
Error feels Ink tense up next to him, anxiety coiling and twisting inside their guts. As the shaking gets stronger, cracks start to form below their feet. Before neither can comprehend what is going to happen next, the ground opens up beneath them, sucking them into the abyss. Meanwhile, Error's grasp on Ink's wrist slips away.
As gravity takes over, parts of the ground, rocks, plants and water fall and trickle down with them. While Error watches the hole become smaller and smaller with every second that goes by until it is reduced to a tiny speck of light, his mind is racing, his head spinning.
It cannot end like this, not after everything they have been through. Error has just started to understand Ink truly, and there is so much more to learn about him! But what can Error possibly do or say to make Ink accept him? To get out of this nightmare together?
Ink craves a purpose. Ink craves a sense of identity. Ink wishes the burden and the guilt to be lifted off his shoulders. Ink wants to protect. Ink wants to be needed.
Finally, Error makes a decision. After he grinds his teeth together, he flips onto his stomach during the endless fall. His eyes meet Ink's helpless ones.
Then Error shoots out his strings with both hands, catching Ink's wrists. Ink watches with big eyes as Error pulls himself closer to the other. The moment he is in reach, Error extends his left hand and grabs Ink's.
„Hey!“ Error shouts, agitated. „HaVe yoU eVer conSiderEd-“
But Error hesitates, his embarrassment taking over. No, stupid! Ink already knows what the other is feeling and thinking anyway! Yet, to make sense of the mess in Error's mind for Ink to understand, he needs to put it into words regardless.
Error gulps as he finds his resolve at last.
„-haVe You cOnsiDereD thAt yOu caN hAve me As yOur puRposE?!“
Flabbergasted, Ink stares at the other with eyes that cannot possibly get any larger. The only sound filling the silence between them is the wind rushing past their skulls.
„...What do you mean?“ Ink asks softly, almost inaudibly.
„ThaT meAns-“ Error almost chokes on his own words. „-yoU beLong To me aNd no One eLse! You Don'T neEd to Prove yOur woRth to mE unLike wiTh thEm! But I woN't aLlow yOu to Give uP, aNd suRe as Hell woN't aLlow yoU to Die eiTher! That's All i'm aSking From yOu!“
Before Error knows it, Ink has wormed his way into his life without asking for permission first. Ink can be grating, stubborn, annoying, so full of life, fun, and breathtaking.
What would the 'Destroyer' be without the 'Creator'? There is no dull moment with him around, Error's other half.
All kinds of emotions flash across Ink's eyes, all colors of the rainbow. For the first time, the hateful voices quiet down.
„...Do you even give me a choice in this?“ Ink inquires tentatively.
Error already knows what the other wants to hear.
„Hell No,“ he responds, determined.
A soft snort escapes Ink's mouth. The first genuine laughter Error has heard from him since what feels like an eternity, a sound that makes his chest feel stupidly full.
Black, translucent tears pool in the corners of Ink's sockets. They fly high up, glittering like stars. Yet unlike those before them, they stay in the dark.
Suddenly, Ink's hand grasps Error's left forearm. Then the other. All until Ink is able to wrap his arms around Error's neck. And when the latter believes they cannot possibly get any closer, Ink leans forward until their foreheads touch.
„...I don't want this world to get destroyed either,“ Ink admits softly.
„I knoW,“ Error replies as he awkwardly moves his hands to rest on Ink's shoulders.
„They're many things in it I like.“
„Mmh, me Too.“
„And even if the creators want it gone now... at some point, they loved it too. Enough to create it and fill it with their passion and love.“
„MaybE yoU shoUld pRoteCt it tHen,“ Error offers, lowering his voice to match Ink's. „That... Love yoU're TalkinG abOut.“
Silence.
„...Ruru?“
„Hm?“
„You wouldn't forget me, right?“
Error lets out a huff. „PleaSe, yoU foLloweD me aLl thE wAy inTo my DreAms. TheRe's no Way I'd forGet soMeonE liKe yoU.“
Then Ink's pupils morph into stars. As Error's vision is filled with nothing but Ink's face, there is no way he would look away even if he needed to. Even as new stars are born around them, Error is already looking at his favorite pair.
He always has.
***
…
Something – or someone – rustles and shifts beneath Error.
„Reaps?!“ a frantic voice calls out. „Are you crazy?! You could've broken your spine with that stunt!“
A groan. „At least I saved their spines.“
„Damn it, you stupid cushion. Give me your hands!“
Suddenly, the soft weight is being pulled from under Error until his back touches dirt and grass instead. He hears the flapping of wings, cool air breezing over his face.
„Are they alright?!“ a voice calls out from above.
Then Error notices the warm, blanket-like weight on top of him shift as well. Even though his head is spinning, he attempts to pry open his eyes.
„Ah! Error!“ Geno exclaims. He bends down slightly, giving him a smile. Standing next to him, Reaper smiles as well, despite his crooked, pained posture.
Footsteps resound in the background until Horror and Fell stop next to the other two skeletons.
„...Over already?“ Horror mumbles, dumbfounded.
„Looks like it,“ Fell states, unimpressed.
While Error has not the clarity to acknowledge either of them, he tries to push himself up by his elbows. The weight on his chest moves up as well.
This is when Error's and Ink's eyes meet.
„...Error?“ Ink mutters with a raspy voice. No stretched grin, no empty sockets, no black liquid. It is him, his pupils wobbly and dilated, not knowing which shape to take yet.
Both are bewildered, still confused, still disoriented. Then, all at once, the memories rush through Error's mind with the speed of light. As his eyes blow open in realization, Ink mirrors his gesture as though they were still in sync with one another.
A moment later, Ink scrambles to sit up on Error's lap and places his hand on his own chest.
Everyone gasps when Ink reveals his soul. It is back to how it should be, no foreign substance clinging to it anymore. However, it is pink with a sheen around the edges as red as DT.
Cheers erupt above them. While Top and Zephyr are hugging each other and smiling in unison, Fresh is watching with astonishment as the lenses of his goggles display the words, 'holy moly'.
The moment Ink looks up at Error, his sockets are filled with tears. Before Error has a chance to say anything, he is tackled into a hug. He tenses up, uncertain how to react.
Because, to his surprise... there is no pain to Ink's touch. Just warmth.
Feeling the wetness of Ink's sobs on his shoulder, Error decides, just this once, to let it happen.
***
