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“So, just…hold out your hand and don’t move okay?”
Ink nodded from where he sat across from Error, legs crossed under him and arm outstretched, fingers splayed. “You got it!”
“…You promise you’re not going to move?” Error said, hands still clasped tightly near his chest. Any other time, Ink would have rolled his eyes at Error, but this was something he was determined not to mess up. Any progress was progress after all.
“I promise.” Ink said.
Hesitantly and slowly, Error removed one of his clenched hands from near his chest and reached out, hand trembling as his fingers spread. When his hand neared Ink’s, his fingers curled slightly and he took a shaky breath, lowering his head and closing his eyes. With more speed than necessary, Error pressed the pads of their fingers together and stopped. Ink could feel the tremors of his hand through his own, but he kept his hand steady, almost afraid to breathe.
Gradually, the tremors faded, and Error slowly raised his head, gaze locked on where their fingers met. Ink watched the tenseness in his shoulders lessen and an incredibly soft look overcome his features. It was gone almost as soon as it came, though, and Error was quick to snatch his hand back, rubbing at the tips of his fingers and looking a little frustrated with himself.
“I’m sorry.” Error mumbled, refusing to meet Ink’s stare.
Ink shook his head, lowering his own hand. “No, no, don’t be! You did really well!”
Error let out a huff of a laugh. “You think so?”
“Definitely!” Ink said. “Baby steps, Error. I think you think I expect more from you.”
“Well, you do.” Error said, fixing a sceptical look on Ink. “Or am I wrong?”
“Well…” Ink began, scratching the back of his head, “I wouldn’t mind being able to hug you or sit a bit closer to you when we watch movies, but that’s just cause I’m naturally a very touchy person. I…don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Error looked bashful for a moment, until he rolled his eyes and stretched out a leg to gently kick one of Ink’s own legs, pulling it back to his chest afterwards and crossing his arms around it. “Thanks, Inkblot.”
“No problem, Glitchy.” Ink said with a laugh. “You done for today or did you want to try again?”
“I…” Error said. “I think I’m done for today.”
Ink shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright! You wanna go watch that Novella now?”
~
The whole ‘hand touching’ thing became a regular occurrence.
Not that Ink was complaining, because he wasn’t, and Error was slowly, very slowly, making progress.
‘Incredible progress.’ Ink thought with a smile when their palms finally touched for the first time. Well, the first time that Error had willingly wanted their palms to touch. There was no jolt from the glitch, no panicked, anxiety ridden breathing, and when he looked at their hands he almost smiled. His hands were so warm, palms broad when compared to Ink’s own, but his fingers were narrow and long, almost too delicate looking for him. Ink wondered if they had always been like that, or if they had changed to adapt to the almost constant needlework that Error did as a hobby.
“You’re amazing, Error.” Ink said when Error had retracted his hand. Error’s other hand was already rummaging around in his jacket pocket for the gloves he often wore.
“You patronise me.” Error teased, already leaning back onto the couch they had been sitting on.
Ink smiled. “I mean it! It’s only been a month and-“
“’Only been a month’”
“-you’re basically three quarters of the way to holding hands!”
Error sighed, rolling his eyes, and opened his mouth to respond, before he shut it and grew quiet and contemplative. Ink raised an eyebrow at him.
“You okay?” Ink asked.
“…three quarters of the way, huh?” Error said quietly, brows furrowing harder. When he seemed to have made up his mind, he turned to Ink again, folding his legs neatly underneath him. “Hold out your hand.”
“Huh?” Ink said, taken off guard by the determination in Error’s eyes. “Wh-“
“Just do it, Inkblot.”
“Okay…” Ink did as he was told, making sure to stay completely still in the case where Error was doing what he thought he was doing.
Error took a deep breath and repeated a motion that Ink had seen a fair few times over the course of them doing this, the way Error’s arm would shoot outwards and stutter to a stop just a fraction of an inch before Ink’s own hand. The tips of their fingers were the first to touch, then, gradually, their palms made contact again. Error’s hand trembled for a moment, and Ink thought he might pull away again, but then Error steeled himself. Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he threaded his fingers into the spaces between Ink’s fingers, slotting their hands perfectly together.
Ink’s breath caught in his throat. Whatever he thought holding Error’s hand would feel like paled in comparison to the actual sensation of it. There was no way he could have imagined the warmth of Error’s palm, the pressure of his fingers, and the subtle shaking underneath it all. When Ink was finally able to pry his eyes away from their joined hands, he looked at Error. Something akin to pride was shining in Error’s amber eyes, smile small and curious, and Ink swore he could have cried right there and then, heart practically melting over how pleased with himself Error looked in that moment. All too soon, the moment ended, and Error disconnected their hands. He looked almost embarrassed.
“That was…” Error said, flushing a brighter hue of red. “Nice…”
Ink smiled, feeling like he won the lottery. “Yeah…it was nice.”
~
Ink was a terrible friend.
He knew he was, from where he giggled to himself in his hiding place.
Error had made a fatal mistake in going to the bathroom and leaving Ink to his own devices.
To be fair though, Ink was curious. He had never really seen narcolepsy run its course, and when Error had confessed to having it and currently being on medication for it, however mild the diagnosis was, Ink couldn’t really help himself. He had been waiting for an opportunity like this for months.
But, even Ink will admit that he wasn’t entirely prepared for what exactly happened after he put his brilliant plan into action.
When Error had returned to the living room and walked over to the couch, Ink jumped out from behind it and screamed at the top of his lungs. Predictably, Error screamed too and jumped back.
Unpredictably, he also dropped to the ground like a stone, completely unconscious.
Ink panicked for a second, rushing over and making sure Error was breathing, which he was, before he sat back on his heels and processed everything that had happened.
Unable to help himself, Ink burst into laughter.
Error was going to kill him when he woke up.
~
It was one thing to be on the receiving side of affection, but it was an entire other thing to be on the giving end. And to be fair, he had never really been on the giving end.
Ink’s way to comfort people was through physical affection, that was no surprise. He was a man to which the concepts of ‘personal space’ was unheard of, so he was often in the space of someone. Whether it was to be comforting or not.
He couldn’t do that with Error. Whenever Error was in a bad mood, which he was for a good portion of the time to be honest, he preferred to just be left alone with his blanket and television until he was ready to face the universe again. Ink had to adapt quickly; the last thing he wanted was to break that trust they had spent ages building.
But now, finding himself on the giving side of affection, Error had no idea what to do.
Ink reacted positively to those sorts of things, he relished in contact and took comfort in it, but now…
Now Ink was crying, and Error was stressing out because, for one, he didn’t know why Ink was crying, and two, what was he supposed to do to make it stop? He didn’t like it when the artist cried. It was such a polar opposite from the emotions Ink usually portrayed, and it only made the already small artist look even smaller. More…helpless. The point was, Error didn’t like it and he wanted it to stop.
Ink was at his apartment, having ran here after whatever had made him so upset had happened, and had simply curled up on the corner of his couch and quietly sobbed his eyes out. Error wanted to do something to comfort him, which was weird since he never usually wanted to do that sort of thing, when Ink spoke.
“Error…” Ink said through his hiccups. “Can I…please hold your hand? Just for a little bit?”
Error’s throat felt tight as he sat down next to Ink, folding a leg underneath himself and ensuring that they were at least an arm’s length away. When Ink raised a trembling hand out to him, gaze teary and bottom lip quaking, Error took a deep breath and joined their hands. Ink smiled at him briefly before he dropped his head back into where it was buried in his knees. At first, the touch wasn’t bad, and he could feel Ink’s breaths evening out, but after they were pushing five minutes, the itch to pull away began intensifying in Error’s head.
‘No.’ He told himself. ‘Just a little longer. I need to do this for him.’
When Ink’s breathing had slowed considerably and his arm had gone lax, Error gave into himself and disconnected their hands. As Ink’s arm collapsed uselessly onto the couch cushions, Error realised that somewhere in the last twenty or so minutes, Ink had fallen asleep. With a mental reminder to make the artist explain himself later, Error rose from the couch.
As he passed, Ink gave a small shudder and Error was struck by an idea. He took off his jacket and, carefully, draped it over Ink’s sleeping form.
A substitution for a hug he wasn’t quite ready to give.