Chapter Text
Ink was restless. He tossed and turned for at least an hour but no matter what he did, he couldn't fall asleep. His mind was plagued by Nightmare’s answer when they had previously been in the bathroom.
“I just wanted what everyone else has…”
What did they mean by that? What were they trying to say? They had emotions, so what more could they want? He would usually chalk the irrational decisions up to wanting more power or control, but Nightmare was surprisingly picky with their meals and washed their hands after doing anything that had involved the limbs. There was one time he somehow remembered when the two had just finished dinner and were about to eat dessert, Nightmare raced out of the room before returning a few moments later. Ink had made a lighthearted joke about it, but Nightmare muttered bitterly about “cross contamination”... Whatever that meant. There had also been a few times where Nightmare refused to eat because it hadn't been made by either themself or Horror. Another vague memory was when the two had first started “going out”, Nightmare refused to eat anything Ink would make. He still hasn’t figured out why, and likely never will without a little snooping; but right now he was focused on figuring out why they had consumed the paints in the first place.
He would get nowhere laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as if the drywall would open up and dump all the answers onto him, like the paints had in his youth. He sometimes wished he could talk to inanimate objects, he had a strong feeling these walls had an awful lot to say.
“... Hey Night, you awake?” Ink asked softly, turning to face the guardian who was still sleeping like a log. He sighed and sat up, glancing at the long scarf that lay around his neck. He had forgotten to take it off, he had also forgotten to get changed. He had been wearing these clothes for almost a week now and they were starting to smell. Without anything else to do, he hopped off the bed and dug through Nightmares' closet to find a shirt to steal.
Once he’d found a shirt, he stripped off his previous outfit and pulled the light gray fabric over his body. It acted like a dress due to how much larger Nightmare was compared to him, in both height and weight, though you’d never catch Ink complaining. He loved his partner's anatomy; claimed it made them more enjoyable to draw.
Speaking of drawing, that's what Ink needed to do. Draw. Busy his mind until he fell asleep. He always kept a sketchbook in his partner’s nightstand, usually next to their diary, although Nightmare liked to call it a “journal” to seem more sophisticated and professional, but the name fooled no one. It was a diary through and through.
He reached into the drawer and snatched it up, his hand briefly brushing over his partner's diary, only to find it wasn’t in there. He blinked and checked to make sure the small book he was holding was his sketchbook. It most certainly was; he could tell by the crudely drawn dicks scribbled on by Error when the two last hung out. So where was the diary? It should be right there, but no.
“Okay, okay, think! Where would Nightmares diary be? Where do they usually bring it…”
He tried to remember back to the schedule Nightmare tended to follow. Wake up, grab diary, go downstairs, have breakfast and coffee, read a bit from said diary for some reason, go back upstairs to their office, hang out in there for most of the day-
Their office. That’s where it was. It had to be there. Ink was certain of it.
With no time to waste and no pants on, Ink disintegrated into a puddle and reappeared within their partner’s office; spotting the diary immediately, he snatched it from its place on the desk and held it to their chest. His side quest had been completed and he would return it safely to the nightstand where no prying eyes could snoop through Nightmares private thoughts… Oh stars. He could find out why Nightmare had drunk his paints. He had the answers right in the palm of his hands…
No, he couldn’t do that, it was an invasion of privacy… but, he was technically doing it for a good cause, and he’d only go back a few pages. Besides, isn't the whole rule of couples to not have secrets? He shrugged off the thought of this whole scheme being incredibly invading, and opened the pages.
In the hour and a half it took for him to get to the final entry, he had discovered so much about the guardian. Things he was certain he never would have found out if he hadn’t snooped through their diary. In his snooping, he mentally noted a few specific things; a few of those being:
-Nightmare views themself as different people day by day.
-they didn’t hate their subordinates, just finds them irritating some days
-they don’t hate Dream, but hate that it seemed only they were allowed to grieve. One specific portion they wrote proved this.
“I lost myself in that apple's negativity. If anyone should grieve it's me. Why does Dream get to but I don't?” Along with a small note beneath it that said, “Holy dramatic.” The "different person per day” statement was beginning to prove itself true.
The sound of an owl outside the large window shocked Ink out of his rabbit hole and he snapped the book shut, before standing up and frowning. This just brought up more questions. Was Nightmare suffering a crisis of sorts? Ink vaguely remembered when Dream went into psychosis, certainly something similar could happen to Nightmare, the guardian of negativity for stars sake. Was it a cry for help? A failed attempt? The possibilities were endless and Ink would have spent all night standing there and thinking if it hadn’t been for the fact that his body had finally decided it was time for bed. He clutched the diary tight to his chest once again, before melting into a puddle and returning to his partner's room.
When he reformed, he saw they were still fast asleep. Completely unaware of what Ink had discovered about them. He frowned before setting the diary and sketchbook inside the drawer and shutting it carefully, being mindful of the still sleeping Nightmare who most likely wouldn’t have woken if they were tossed out of bed and stepped on. He caught a glance from the corner of his eye and turned to gaze at the guardian's face, their expression ever so peaceful in their deep sleep. The moonlight streamed softly through the sheer fabric of the canopy and cast a silvery glow over their back and skull. Their body rose and fell ever so gently with each breath, sounding drugged and sloppy due to their state. The sight was truly one to behold, at least to Ink. He felt that familiar feeling of worry begin to creep in once again, the same one he’d felt nearly a day ago.
“What if they don’t get better?”The thought began to consume him and try as he might, he was unable to rid himself of it. Quickly scrambling into bed with his partner and squirming under their arm, he snuggled as close as he possibly could and clung onto them. His arms wrapped around their torso and his face buried in the crook of their neck. He took a deep breath to calm himself. The subtle smell of lilacs filled his senses and he slowly began to relax.
Lilacs… they always smelt like lilacs.He let the scent soothe him as both his body and mind succumbed to the spell of sleep.