Chapter Text
“You know…”
Leaves began to rustle in the tree above their heads. One of them drifted down and brushed past his nose, fluttering quickly, like a rabbit fleeing a predator in the same way that autumn flees the winter. It has been getting colder lately. Nightmare is in the house, brewing some tea to warm their hands. The weather affects the twins much stronger, so they’re holed up inside for a moment, just to warm up again.
“What?” Error grouches, lying in the grass with him. Ink’s mouth quirks up into a grin. He continues to watch as the leaves fall, their swaying fruit still ripe. As they had been the season before, and the season before that one. “Somewhere, somewhere far out there, there is a world where we all exist.” Ink can feel Error’s mind working to come up with a snide remark, so he continues. “In that world, we’re all enemies. Isn’t that funny?”
Error is silent as Ink lifts his hand up to the canopy above him, where his skull rests against a rise of roots, and curls his fingers gently - to mimic holding an apple high above him. Below the hill where Nightmare and Dream’s house sits, there is a peaceful wheat field, and the individual golden strands wave in the chilly breeze. They brush against one another and create a calming rustling noise. Past the sea of yellow, there is a tiny village all on its lonesome, far from the secluded cottage on the hill.
Ink can feel Error’s gaze resting on his upturned face, so he looks at Error and smiles. Something about the expression makes Error look away quietly, the deep-set frown his face always falls into (incomprehensibly) loosening to something more tolerant. Ink can’t hold all of his mirth, so when a giggle bubbles out of him, Error sharply looks at him again.
“What is it now? What’s so goddamn funny?”
Ink grins. “Nothin’. Just your face.”
The two of them fall into back-and-forth banter, as Nightmare and Dream watch from a table pushed against the wall - so they can peer through the window. Their gloves are laid out on top of one another, hurriedly taken off to press cold digits up against one another. Dream still remembers the sting of the cold on his ribcage. He takes a sip of his tea, Nightmare mirroring the gesture - with a sly, watchful gaze toward the duo wrestling in the grass.
“They’re fighting again.” Dream absentmindedly remarks. His mind is on something else, again.
Nightmare shrugs. “Let them. They’re just flirting. I can’t comprehend how they manage to bicker so often. They must have been made for it.”
“Made for it? You’ve been listening to Ink’s rambles again.”
“Certainly.” Nightmare confesses, remorseless. “An insane man’s knowledge is still knowledge, nonetheless, love.”