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Language:
English
Series:
Part 7 of Extra Pages
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Published:
2021-02-24
Words:
539
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
7
Kudos:
193
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1,547

stand close

Summary:

Ink's house sometimes gets possessed by a strange being named Error. Error hates the rain, and he takes up the whole house to hide. Error can't let Ink see him, though, so every time Error takes up his house, Ink is forced to stay outside.

Eventually, they become tentative friends.

Work Text:

"Error." 

A small voice called to him from beyond a wall of wood. Familiar. As always, muffled by a maelstrom of rain.

Error tapped on that wall to let him know that he was listening.

Ink stood outside, in the pouring rain, holding his umbrella. It didn't really do much, considering that he was already sopping wet, but the rain was coming down hard today. Trailing down his chin were mingling streaks of black ink, diluted by the water. His shoulders were low and his back slumped. 

"Do you know what love is?"

With a great groan and sigh, his (currently occupied) home creaked a reply. "I do know."

"Could you explain to me, then, what you think it is?"

Error scoffed, and the pipes rattled with water. "I know that it is a human emotion, an animal emotion. It connects people like strings, and entangles them in unwanted affairs, causing pain." That is what Nightmare told him.

Ink's expression, vague and hazy, remained consistently blank. He slowly lowered the umbrella, and the raindrops began to tap the back of his skull relentlessly. They rolled down the back of his neck stained the color of tar. "I see. And what do you think of romance?"

"... I do not comprehend it."

Ink is quiet. Error finds himself uncharacteristically uncomfortable by this, and the pots clatter slightly with his shifting. On the ceiling, lights sway precariously, and items on shelves move ever so slightly to the left, as if fiddled with by an invisible stranger.

"Why do you ask these questions of me, Ink?" Error eventually replies, too put off by the silence to let it reign. "You know many mortals who have felt that love you tell me of. It is unwise of you to ask someone like me."

Patient as always, Ink explained. "You are not mortal, and that means you know things that we don't."

Error frowns a bit and coils like a snake, turning and pacing and pacing the foyer. The carpet creases under his footsteps, and the walls shudder ever so slightly with his cycling. "I am not mortal," he agrees, after thought. "But even without that, I am similar in ways you will not be able to see."

The little painter, his umbrella collecting rain in cupped palms, sat on the steps of his porch. He left it while he slumped against the front door. "I see." He repeated himself. "Then what ways are we similar?"

Error blew a gust of wind that rattled the front door. Ink nearly fell over, and it shook him of the dragging mud which pulled him down. His eyes widened as he caught himself on his hands. "You ask too many questions!" Error complained. Ink found himself smiling a little, without his own accord.

"I," Error puffed his chest. The walls creaked and groaned to contain him. "Am a deity beyond mortal limitations!" He boasted. "I don't need to be chained down by thoughts of 'what is love' and 'sadness'."

Ink nodded sagely, though Error could not see him. "That must be really cool." 

Error deflated a bit, and the house sighed in relief as he slumped a little. "Yes." A pause. "Very cool, and not lonely at all."

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