Idiot one, and idiot two

The closet

Ink stood looking at the cast list, a grieved look on his face when his name was next to "Tweedledum". Saying he was upset would be a understatement, maybe Error was a fortune-teller. Though he was a bit excited for the feather duster battle, but would obviously much rather be back stage then up with big hoop pants doing a fight with cleaning supplies. Maybe he should have just kept with what he was organizing assigned as.

"Wow, heh, fits well." A familiar voice from behind him chirped, Ink could practically see the smug look on his face without even having his eye lights on him. "Shut up," he felt his blood marrow boil under his thicc bone. It took no more then a comment to set him off, if being possibly the worst character in a play wasn't enough. "Shut it."

"What? Ohhh you still man from last night?" He chuckled, spinning around and around on his heel before continuing. "Sorry babe, but that's.. that's because your a bitch! Haha." No more then a second after that he tripped on some wires that slithered their way up to the lights, making a dim flicker and a loud cackle. Ink looked at him in disgust; he was probably high or some form of drunk, and the nickname had to be the worst of the bunch. 'Babe'? What was he, gay?

Well on second thought, Ink is some form of gay so he didn't really mind, but still. The question of how he even got the alcohol was still in hand, but more noticeably was the fact that he still had to practice for the show. Getting on the cast itself was a miracle, and he knew that so he wasn't just about to mess it up.

In the middle of the night all three brothers were oblivious to the small skeleton rehearsal in the living room, flicking a wooden spoon around like it was a feather duster. He would have been using a real one if he could find it, but by the looks of it there were none that were there. Maybe it would have been easier to do this in the day as well, considering that he couldn't see anything and kept stubbing his pinky toe on the same table at least 6 times already.

Time was even worse, every time he checked his half broken phone for the time it seemed like hours past in seconds. He was tired and knew he had a big exam tomorrow, but even with all of those conditions he still went with his lines that he looked at every so often. Who wants to learn about history anyways?

5:00 am.

5:00 am, only a hour away from having to wake up as he was still swinging the wooden spoon around while talking with bromide, who unsurprisingly didn't talk back. Ink knew that if he could bromide would have told him that he was tired too.

6:02 am

He heard the lights upstairs flicker on, echoing down the halls if it were a sound. The sounds of foot steps aching their way down the hall alarmed ink, he moved quickly to avoid being seen acting like a chicken. He went to duck on the couch but realized a figure was already there sleeping, had it been there the whole night? Just by the little bits of lights ink could make out the figure of geno hunched over on the couch.

Oh yeah, he slept there.

Ink, with no where to run, defeatedly stood for the figure who was making their way down the hall to see. Upon ink catching the gaze of error he froze, but error flatly acted as if he hadn't existed and pasted him, reaching from the plant filled sink to turn the knob. Error cupped the water in his hands taking a swing.

Ink didn't see a real problem with this, knowing that error was never really the type to care about ink, but it was odd. There was no bulling, no pushing, no snappy remark, just plan old slump.

At school was no different, they gotten there slightly early because error was up at normal time. Error exchanged a few words with cross along with nightmare but that was it, ink was sure that man didn't even blink. He could arguably judge error for the mood swings, but knew he wasn't any better.