Chapter 5 - Potential Friendships

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Error hated Ink.

He hated his stupid art, the stupid black blotch on his right cheekbone, and his stupid existence!

His stupid life-size "Broomy" was one of the most terrible things about him! Why would you ever name your paintbrush?! And how could you ever be so insane that you would talk to it like it was a living thing?! Stupid ink-stain, stupid Sans.

But the worst part is when he was in a Universe with him.

Neither of them could die, and they both knew it, but they would still stop at nothing to put each other in as much pain as possible. From tiny but horrible paper cut-like-scratches to entire limbs being torn off, he was never afraid to show how much he hated the Protector of Universes.

Ink hated Error, too.

He hated the smug yellow grin we wore all the time, he hated his glitches, and his utterly insane laughter.

He hated his puppets the most, because he knew that each and every one signified the death of a Sans, and the death of a Universe. The death of something he had failed to protect.

But the thing he despised the most was when he was in a Universe with him.

When Error destroys a Universe, everything is reduced to glitches and numbers. Every inhabitant suffered, their soul being torn apart by the glitched Sans. He was a murderer that would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, whatever it was that he wanted out of this. But no matter what, he was never afraid to show how much he hated the Destroyer of Universes.

--/-/--

Error craved these fights before, but now he just wanted it to stop. Blue was able to reach out to his cold, dark soul, and convince him that destroying Universes was a terrible thing to do. The knowledge that he could possibly be murdering people like Blue made him feel terrible.

So why did he still do it? He didn't really want to, and nothing was stopping him from doing something else with his life.

But he chose this path, so he felt like he had to stick with it. There was no going back now, not when he's already gone so far in this direction. Leaving behind a path of destruction was his life's work, it was all he could remember ever doing. Sure, he's picked up other interests on the side, but ultimately, destroying Universes and cleansing the Multiverse of its many, many mistakes has been what he's dedicated his life to. What could he do, if not this?

He's never had any friends or family. Blue has his own life, that he's learned better to not intrude too much in. Blue has his own life filled with people who hate Error. Maybe he hates Error, too, behind his back. Well, it's not like he would be in the wrong. They didn't exactly start off on good terms.

...

The thought made him sick, though. He felt bad for what he did to him, all those... years ago? Has it been years? It's likely been years.

He felt horrible thinking about it. Thinking about his job, the way he feels voices whisper in the back of his mind. They way he often feels hands grip his shoulders, urging him forward whenever he begins to have doubts. It felt like the whole Multiverse was working against him, and it felt terrible. He felt terrible.

He felt hopeless.

Nightmare smirked as he felt it. Someone was unhappy.

It's been five days since that movie night with Dream. He was going about with his day when he suddenly felt a strong pang of negative energy, and he wanted to feed off of it, but he couldn't pin down where it was coming from. The emotion patterns of the individual were unfamiliar, so he didn't know who it was, either.

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