Creation Begins with an I, Destruction Begins with an E (Undertale Errink Book)

Is It Supposed to Look Like That?

The next couple of days were normal.

As normal as they could all make it.

Saturday morning arrived as what could only be described as misleading appearance; a clear, sunny sky, yet a disappointingly cold chill in the air to accompany it.

Error didn't have to get up get. He didn't have anywhere else to be. He hadn't, as far as he was aware, made any plans. 

Unfortunately, though, it seemed plans had been made for him.

His phone vibrated from the bedside cabinet. Figuring it might be Ink, he reached out and grabbed it, his eyes narrowing instinctively as they tried to make sense of the screen in front of him. 

It was not Ink, and nor was it as early in the morning as he thought it had been. 

Four: KM's angry that you guys weren't back to work like he wanted you to be yesterday. Everyone is today except for you, because you have to go see Life about your injuries since you never got a doctor's appointment like I asked you to. 

"Oh, shit." Error groaned and pressed the call button. Four picked up almost immediately.

"If you've rang to complain..."

"Well, not complain, but-"

"This is not up for debate, Error. You see Life today, and that's the end of it."

"Can I not just make a doctor's appointment today?"

"No, because I gave you a chance to do that already."

"I swear, I'll-"

"I need you seen today, that is the end of this discussion. You'll go to Life's at eleven."

"That's in like, half an hour..."

"Yeah."

"I've literally just woken up."

"That's not my fault, if you wanna wake up late, you're gonna have less time to do things."

"Well, it is Saturday, and in my defence, I didn't know I had shit to do today."

"You're a God. You always have shit to do. Now get dressed."

Beep.

"Fuck's sake." Error sighed, dragging himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, the skeleton had showered, got dressed, and much to his displeasure, managed to get toothpaste on his shirt. Aware that he had to leave in a few minutes, he abandoned his attempts to scrub it off, reluctantly throwing a hoodie on and reaching for his phone, about to text Ink. A notification flashed up on the screen: Warning, battery low: 15%.

"What the f..." He turned to the charger in the wall next to his bed, noticing it wasn't fully pushed into the socket. "Oh, brilliant." He would have put it back in his pocket and powered it off if it hadn't been for the many texts he'd received from Reaper. 

(7:09AM) R: Oh God I have that date tonight

(8:11AM) R: What if it goes really badly?

(8:36AM) R: Like, really badly?

(8:49AM) R: I'm not going to cancel it but I think I was considering it earlier

(9:34AM) R: Do you think I should bring my bike or just walk to his?

(9:57AM) R: Omg just come to Starbucks when you wake up 

(10:18AM) R: Are you seriously not awake?