Chapter Text
Geno
'It's not a dream.'
The drooping socket of a small skeleton lifted slowly, only to be met with such a blaring white, that Geno assumed he was still asleep. After all it wouldn't make sense for this place to be real.
A surreal abyss of silence.
An endless white.
Looking around the void, Geno quirked a bony brow.
What a boring dream.
Shrugging, he began walking, looking for something different, but it was all the same. Seeing as he felt fairly lucid, he decided he would just change the dream himself. That was how these things worked, right? But what should he change it to?
Looking through his memories, they were surprisingly clear for a dream. He had been watching over Snowdin just before…
Just before what?
He didn't remember going to sleep…
He shook his head, That's fairly normal . So he just tried to envision the snowy underground village of Snowdin, crunching his sockets closed in concentration.
Opening them up…
Nothing.
Did that mean…
Geno pinched his arm and jumped slightly.
Shit .
It's not a dream.
Taking a deep breath, Geno examined the white around him. Each direction seemingly leading to the same empty place. Where was he?
"You've been through worse," he reassured himself and picked a random direction to walk in.
***
"One might say this place is pretty de void of entertainment," Geno gave a weak chuckle as he carried on walking.
He had used that pun 73 times now. Truthfully an empty white space doesn't provide much material for jokes.
"Guess I'll crack out the skeleton jokes then. Eh, call me a lazy bones ."
Geno smiled slightly, "Ya know my bro hated those puns most of all, but… he's been… gone for awhile."
Geno gripped his scarf and stared up at the whiteness. He could've sworn he saw something flashing. Must have been a trick of his eyes.
"Quite frankly, puns never really got under my skin ."
"Heh," he continued to walk through the nothingness, his mouth twitching, as he suppressed a frown, "...Tough crowd."
***
A quiet ringing had become a pervasive sound, following the skeleton as he walked.
"Well I'm all out of puns and gettin' kind of bonely ," Geno sighed, his voice hoarse, "Any chance you could show me an exit?"
Nothing.
Geno stopped walking and stared at the white space above, "Haven't I gone through enough?"
Nothing.
"Just let me lEAve!" He yelled, his voice cracking slightly.
A flash of light sparked in the corner of his eyelight and Geno swiveled around, "Is someone there?"
Just blank space.
"P-please, I don't know how long I've been stuck here! I'll do anything! J-just please help me," Geno continued to plead into the abyss.
And when there was no response. His eyelight glowed and with a croaky voice he screamed, "LET ME OUT DAMMIT!!!"
But nobody came.
And Geno stopped talking after that.
***
The ringing had gotten louder.
997, Geno counted as his foot rhythmically stepped down, parallel to the swing of his opposite arm.
Walking mechanically, the counting continued:
998.
999.
1000.
Then, like many times before, after reaching a thousand he started at one once more.
Step
STEP.
§ȚĚP.
As he carried on forward, he noticed slight oddities about the strange void. For instance, his body never casted a shadow nor disturbed the air around him.
It felt so… unreal.
Maybe it was.
Another flash of light forming in his peripheral vision, Geno lurched towards it, sprinting at full speeds. It never occurred to Geno that he might not be able to run. It never crossed his mind that spending so long without food, water or rest could weaken him. After all, he had been stuck here for days and had yet to collapse. That was until he started running.
SNAP!
His ankle cracked under the sudden pressure. Falling to the ground, Geno stared at the place where he had seen the flash. Nothing was there.
The ringing sound grew.
Shivering slightly, he attempted to lift himself from the ground, only for his ankle to twist awkwardly, a scraping sound itching his spine as pain rose up. With a whimper, Geno curled in on himself, tears lightly dripping down his skull leaving permanent stains.
***
What if it was a dream?
What if he was a dream?
What if nothing was real?
What if he wasn't real?
Maybe the void was all there was.
All there ever will be.
Then there was no point in carrying on.
No.
He couldn't except that. He had to keep going. For his family.
'What family? They don't remember you. He left you.'
"W-who said that?!" Geno attempted to rasp out.
But the voice didn't speak again.
So Geno carefully pressed his finger to his still bleeding ankle and lifted it before him. The blood was beginning to dry, but for now he could keep going. Tracing his damp fingertip along the white floor he drew two red dots. Then, weakly placing his finger to the side, he dragged a long, curved smear of blood, forming a smile.
"Hey bro," He whispered.
But, the image faded, consumed by the whiteness of the void.
Reaching back for his ankle, Geno remembered what the voice had said.
It was right. How long had he spent alone? Maybe memories were just a waste of energy. It was better to just give up.
And so, Geno forgot.
Nothing
The sleeping skeleton didn't know who he was. But how could he, when all he did was lay down on the white floor staring at nothing? The skeleton just decided not to ponder over such things.
He just accepted that everything was nothing and that included him.
Time didn't exist here.
So he just slept.
The white consuming him, his bones burning black, and his eyelights staining red, yellow and blue.
Of course, the skeleton never noticed. After all, he didn't know what he looked like before.
***
He just dreamt of white.
Or perhaps he never really fell asleep.
How long had he been here?
What was his name?
He didn't know anymore. Perhaps he had a history, perhaps he had only formed seconds ago. Who's to say?
The ringing was finally gone, now he just had voices whispering in his head. He couldn't tell what they said most of the time, distorted by the skeleton's foggy mind, but they seemed to want him to do something.
But he didn't want to do anything.
So he didn't.
And, eventually, the glitches came; His body twitching and phasing, white signs hovering around him.
"éřŕør," the skeleton read aloud, though his voice simply came out as a distorted, hoarse, whisper.
'That's what you are, a mistake; Not meant to exist.'
Error
Then it clicked, in a sick sort of way, in his head. Maybe it was his fault he was here. It made so much sense! He DESERVED this.
Error started to chuckle, a deformed, pained sound. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? His glitches and ERROR signs increased at the slight burst of emotions.
And when his laughter faded, and his odd glitches lessened, a new voice spoke:
'Now you must to listen to your FATE.'
"…Mỳ fÂťĖ¿"