Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Error’s head lolled to the right, facing the rain-splattered window, glancing towards two bluejays twiddling with a birdfeeder, one dropping birdseed onto the ground.

He sat in a wooden booth waiting for 404 to come back, the smell of coffee wafting through the cafè in Fluffytale.
His eyes shut, reviewing the previous events of the day.

He had initially come alone, intruding into some dull Aftertale copy due to rumors of a certain adversary being sighted there, yet he was met with a rouge Nightmare ripoff that had nearly killed him.

He had been able to greatly injure him, and nearly had him restrained but had been caught off-guard by a bottled shimmering red substance in the distance being swiped up by a Fell copy, causing him to lose focus for almost just enough time to render Error fully unconscious. Bill was supposed to assist him but he had bailed on him for an unknown reason.

404 had chided Error for not reporting Bill's absence immediately but seemed to not care much about the outcome, as if he were expecting it. Like he always knew what was going to happen.
Maybe he did.

404 now had to directly deal with the prick who called himself “Hate!Sans”. And Error had no doubt 404 was going to verbally kick his ass over this.

Something about that red liquid felt so familiar though. Like an old friend, who he hadn't seen for years, like a song he knew all the words to, but hadn't heard before, like-

“Error.”

He turned and lifted his head to meet his mentor but not his eyes, not even his face. Error had been told that he wanted to speak with him about not just this mission, but his performance lately thus, their meeting at Fluffytale. This was likely not going to end well. It was not the first time he easily got gripped by a distraction. At this point, he was starting to act like Ink. He knew 404 had been tolerant of his restlessness, but only to a certain level. Now 404’s patience was wearing thin with him.

“Do you know why I asked to meet with you, boy?”

Great now he was speaking to him like he was five. Why would he ask him that when he already knew the answer? Why make him guess as if he was going to snitch on himself for something else?

“Because of my failure on this mission?”

“We both know it isn’t that.”

The room was noiseless, the café wasn’t as packed as usual, the AU sensing the chaos and destruction that was about to take place.

Error finally looked at his face, finding something that was very rarely there, vulnerability. He didn’t seem to be pitying him but he didn’t seem to be making fun of him either. He seemed genuinely confused as to why he was acting so rash and distracted recently. 404 wasn’t one to show emotion openly towards others but recently they had both grown closer, making Error question one thing; Could he trust him?

404 was one of the only people who made an honest effort to get closer to him. Despite his likeliness to have ulterior motives, Error found it nice to have someone to confide in. Yet he observed 404 tricking people easily, subtlely toying with their feelings all while he acted sympathetic and compassionate. He could easily be acting as if he cared for him and his issues, so he could use his problems against him. If he did take emotional advantage of him it wouldn't be the first time someone had done something along the lines of that.

“Error, I have been…”

He seemed to be finding a way to word his feelings towards the situation.

“We have been concerned for your mental well-being as of late.”

Error froze at those words, mentally noting how forced he sounded, how he seemed like he didn't want to say the words coming out of his mouth. Error honestly agreed, he didn't want to hear what he was saying anymore either.

He closed his eyes as the wind whirled behind the windows, the sound of children playing, and the soft yellow light of the café still staining the dark, were all of the things he noticed before he heard a kind but firm voice interrupt their conversation.

“Hey, I see that you two have a lot to talk about but if you don't order anything in the next two minutes I am going to have to kindly ask the both of you to leave.”

The darker glitch opened his eyes, looking from Ccino to 404. His gaze focussed toward 404, frowning tiredly as if silently begging him to respond for them.

“I apologize on both of our behalves, may we order something?”

Ccino replied but Error didn't seem to register it, closing his eyes again but this time not paying attention to what was surrounding him.

He thought back to the shiny red liquid that caught his eyes in the first place. It felt so notable to him yet, he had no idea as to why. It glittered in the sunlight as he and Hate fought on the surface. And in that moment, everything felt so insignificant to him, everything but the crimson-colored liquid. It had been brighter than even one of Ink’s vials, almost glowing. He wished he could go back and take it from the Underfell Sans.

“And for you?”

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the question, looking up at the skeleton.

“Uh, I’ll…”

“He’ll have a hot chocolate.”

Looking back to 404, Error caught him winking. Rolling his eyes, Error replied.

“Yeah, that.”

The two seated skeletons watched as Ccino fumbled with his clipboard before pulling it closer to himself.

“Okay! Your orders will be out shortly!”

404 nodded before looking back to Error.

“So?”
404 raised a question.

“So?”
Error replied in a mocking voice, smirking when saw 404 show signs of self-restraint.

“What's been going on with you? Recently you've been acting so detached from reality, like you've been seconds away from just disassociating and never coming back to existence. I'm not the only one who has noticed it.”

They met each other's eyes, both looking tired beyond comprehension. Error looked seconds away from bolting out of the room. Error mumbled something unintelligible.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

Error’s feet kicked back and forth below the table, as he hissed out,

“Nothing.”

They sat in silence yet again, 404 appearing completely composed and patient, while Error fidgeted with his strings, twisting and tearing them. It seemed like ages before Ccino came back.

Their drinks were dropped off, Error analyzing both of their beverages, and treats with mistrust. Ccino seemed to notice how thick the air was with tension before he even walked up to the table. He said little besides a quiet, "Enjoy!"

404 still had his eyes trained on Error, watching him as he stirred his chocolatey drink. Error tried to focus on watching his drink slowly cool but could feel his mentor's gaze on him the entire time. He looked up from his drink, and 404 had taken that as a sign to begin speaking. However, he didn't even get a second to catch his breath before Error snapped.

“Why the fuck do have to ask me if there's something wrong with me? It feels like you're asking me if I'm crazy!”

“I never accused you of being crazy Error, I just want to make sure your emotions don't impact your performance during combat. It would be less optimal for others to be impacted by your poor choices in battle. You are working with a team now.”

“Oh great so this is all about you? This is only a problem now because a few missions gone wrong is inconvenient for you? "Oh no I'm so sorry sir, next time I’ll make sure to ask you and your stupid fucking team before I get distracted!" I really do apologize.”

404 grit his teeth.

“That isn't what I meant Error.”

“Then what did you mean, asshole?”

404 took a deep breath, the café coming to a still. Error, realizing he probably wasn't going to answer, began to drink his hot chocolate. If you had asked him if he liked his beverage, he probably would've laughed in your face and hypocritically called you stupid for assuming he could ever enjoy something made in such a stupid AU. He did in fact like it but, he would never admit that to anyone. Because of this, he drank sluggishly. Peaking over towards 404, Error found him drinking his tea with his eyes directed toward the window.

404 seemed to sense him glancing at him almost immediately, looking toward Error who instantly redirected his attention to a window that suddenly seemed extremely interesting. Suddenly, 404 spoke.

“Why must you be so difficult?”

Error gripped tightly into the edge of the table, his scratch marks slowly being made visible as he pushed himself up. The hot chocolate was easily abandoned in trade for an easy exit. Looking towards him, Error realized that he wasn't opposed to his departure, clearly needing some time to think how to approach this. There was no doubt in 404’s head that Error would take advantage of this break, attempting to get away as far as possible.

“Wait I-”

Error nearly slipped as he rushed to the other side of the room, he had almost reached the door when he was suddenly right in front of 404 again.

“Where do you think you're going?”

His voice was almost as frigid as Error felt in the cramped booth. Error's hand opened and closed behind his back, waiting for the right moment. Unexpectedly, before 404 could call him out on the shaky hand movements, a heavily glitching portal opened beneath Error’s feet. Yet, before Error fell into the portal, a low murmur exited his grit teeth.

“Far-the-fuck-away-vill.”

Chapter Text

Letting go of his worries and concerns over the situation, 404 gave Error time to cool off, figuring that they both needed a small break from the topic. Error clearly needed time to sort out his thoughts and rethink his words. However, 404 couldn't help but dwell on one mistake he made in addressing the troubled glitch; he couldn't communicate that he cared for him. It wasn't that he didn't want to, in fact, he believed that showing his affection for him would show favorable effects on Error. But, he couldn't bring himself to show his genuine defenselessness towards him. If 404 lowered his guard with him and opened himself up to caring about him, he would inevitably get hurt, or worse, bring harm to his student. And that wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

Although 404 wouldn't outright admit that he cared for the other, he subconsciously showed Error more of his genuine emotions than he had to any other. He was, without a doubt, his closest ally.

He continued to ponder his companionship with his student as he walked out of the café, opening a portal to headquarters.

Error likely would only be gone for a short passage of time. Besides, Error could handle himself, right?

“Hey wait! You never paid your… your bill. Why does nobody ever listen to me?”

Error chose to escape to Outertale as he didn't want to conversate anymore. He knew it was the most predictable thing he could have chosen to do, and 404 would think it obvious for him to want to flee here, but he couldn't find it in his soul to care. Every part of his being screamed for rest. He wanted something to calm himself, to silence the thoughts.

The jumping thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an idea.

Opening a portal to a random Mafiatale, Error snuck behind the counter of a closed dive bar, noticing that the alcohol hadn't been properly put away, he swiped the strongest liquor he could find based on alcohol content. He might've not been well-versed in the topic but he was pretty good with numbers, especially percentages.

The lights were off, making it hard to navigate the threatening location. He felt a weird feeling of unease being in the place. Maybe his judgment was off or it was just the fact he was in a Mafiatale copy, but he felt like this was a poor decision.

Sadly he could barely tell what was a good decision anymore.

With a quick hand gesture, he opened a portal back to Outertale, eyes closing in pain as he reflected on what had happened recently for what felt like the millionth time; the weird liquid, the false concern of his mentor, the constant daze he was in.

Error’s eyes unfurled, as he acknowledged he wasn’t on his sheltered cliff. He came to the slow realization that his magic was acting up due to how stressed he was.

Thankfully, he had memorized how to get there on foot, mainly due to the fact that all of the universe’s inhabitants were open to visitors. Legs feeling like they were weighed down by cement blocks, he somehow still managed to shakily put one foot in front of the other long enough to carry him to the hidden cliff he had loved since his first visit.

Once he reached his destination, he sat down and rested his back against the cool rock behind him.

He opened the bottle with little struggle. Despite that he couldn't recall drinking before, opening the bottle felt like muscle memory. He hated the feeling of familiarity that came with almost every everyday task.

He wondered if 404 or the rest of his team would see him differently if they knew what he was doing at the moment. He knew Nightmare probably wouldn't have any problems with him drinking, hell he seemed like the kind of skeleton to encourage it. Bill would likely show a small amount of restraint trying to stop him, as he thought of him as a child, but ultimately wouldn’t care. 404’s reaction was admittedly difficult to guess but Error figured he might be a little upset. He didn't need to think about anyone else's reactions for more than a second to realize that they probably couldn't give less of a shit.

Before he took his first sip, he focused on the stars above him. They were so beautiful and filled with grace, a sea of billions of tiny polar white snowflakes, their size unable to compare to the gradient of Indigo and Mulberry behind them. Occasionally he thought of them as the alternate timelines and universes he dealt with on a daily basis. They were right in front of his face, and yet he was too distant to feel their warmth. There was an inconceivable feat of infinity. He resented them for being able to shine brighter than he.

After surveying the area around him, he took a careful sip. He could barely revel in the strong taste, not with how deafening his thoughts were.

Around ten minutes later, Error’s growing anxiety fizzled and dissipated, his thoughts coming to a hush. A soft haze overtook his body as he took another sip.

 He decided that he had enough time to himself under the flickering stars and he attempted to get up, stumbling a bit. He would probably need to report his lack of attendance to someone, as he couldn't remember if anyone knew of his absence. Error didn't understand the importance of anyone knowing where he was anymore. His appearance in battles hardly played a difference anymore and sometimes even resulted in someone non-intentionally harmed due to his inattentiveness. He attempted to steady himself.

 “Error, you good there buddy?”

Error frowned at the distant voice. Normally, he would be extremely annoyed with someone ruining his star-gazing and would be more prone to lashing out. Attacking someone, however, likely wasn't on Error’s agenda that night.

“Better than evar Outer! Hooww, are you’s doin’ though?”

He had observed the glitchy figure walking to the cliff. Outer seemed to notice he wasn't acting typically during this encounter. He couldn't think of a time when Error had ever been this enthusiastic. He also couldn't ever remember him talking with such slurred speech before. When he watched him sway from side to side as he got up, he decided to confront him. Ignoring Error’s question, he asked his own.

“Error, are you drunk?”

Outer noticed how he immediately hid one of his hands behind his back.

“Nooo, why'd you, why would you think that?”

He seemed to pout playfully, acting like how Outer assumed he would with a friend.

“Because you're acting different than how you usually do, are having problems walking, and you're speaking abnormally.”

Error seemed to roll his eyes extravagantly, bringing a finger to his teeth.

“Shushhh shushy shuu sh…”

Outer tried with his entire being to remain tolerant of his acquaintance but found it difficult to put up with his abrasiveness.

“You're seeing things, crazy crazy guy, if you thunk I'm reallyyy drunk then who cares? It's not like I drunk thaaattt much.”

“Show me what you have behind your back then.”

Outer had him cornered. If Error really didn’t drink that much, he would be able to show him the type of alcohol he was drinking and the amount left in the bottle. Error’s fists clenched as he threw the bottle onto the ground. Lashing out and threatening him he screeched.

“Shut the fuckkk uuhp Outer! You think it’ss sooo easy to deal with all I do? Youuu wouldn’t survive a second as me! Sho let me drunk and stop thunkin' about everythin'!”

Dismayed, and slightly wet with alcohol, Outer shut eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decided to stop attempting to negotiate with the drunk Sans and walked away without another word.

Once Outer was fully out of Error’s line of vision, he dropped to the ground with trembling legs. He felt as if he was being strangled with how much pressure had built in his throat. He let out a sniffle, trying to delay the inevitable tears that would soon be streaming down his face. He hadn't wanted him to actually leave, just stop pretending to care about him. He had just wanted someone to confide in, and he couldn't even have that. It was moments like these, whenever he pushed everyone away, he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him. His eyes were angry with agitation as he attempted to prevent his tears from flowing free. Error let out a whimper, not able to escape the feeling of suffocation, and the tears immediately began free-flowing.

He attempted to wipe his tears with his coat sleeve which now had pieces of glass in it, slightly cutting the space under his right eye. Error hissed as his fingers were tangled in a mess of strings, tears, and blood. He reached into a portal that he created to the same Mafiatale copy, grabbing another bottle. This one was tall and the glass and liquid inside of it were fully transparent, not tinted in any way, he smirked as he thought to himself how much it reminded him of a window.

He took a sip, frowning when he realized how it hadn’t tasted anything like the first bottle it was almost flavorless but, it was strong. He attempted to focus his thoughts on why he had been so damn apprehensive towards Outer in the first place but found he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Outer would probably just forget about the confrontation altogether. Hopefully.

Error wanted to fall asleep so badly yet, he almost never did, ever since he had woken up in the Anti-Void for the first time, he was plagued with nightmares so unspeakable he could never discuss them with anyone. Besides, if he fell asleep here, he would be susceptible to possible attacks. He didn’t really have much of a place to sleep, usually if he did he would fall asleep only under the supervision of someone that he could trust not to kill him. It was very rare for him to trust people in that manner.

Forgetting where he was again, Error looked up and was met with the endless cosmos. The stars were so pretty to Error, he wished he could be closer to them sometimes; he struggled upwards, teetering from side to side, and walked closer to the end of the cliff. He lifted his hand towards the stars, almost holding them, why were they so far away? He needed to be closer. Error was moments away from stepping off the cliff when he was interrupted.

The back of Error’s jacket was gripped by a strong force and he was pulled backwards. As soon as he was yanked back, his jacket was released. 404 ripped the bottle out of his hands, tossing it into an odd star-themed adaptation of a thorn bush, Error jolting with a frown when he heard the sound of breaking glass.

“Hey—“

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy? You might as well have tried to kill yourself!”

He grabbed Error by his sleeve, spinning him around. 404 felt the knife-like glass scrape against his hand. When he had first viewed the green shattered glass sprinkled all over the cliffside he had assumed it was likely due to someone throwing it; he had potentially just found the culprit. 404 harshly dragged him until they were both facing each other.

Their eyes finally met, although Error’s were unfocused and wet. 404’s eye lights traced the small intricate cuts underneath his eye socket.

“Ohhhh di-did you nnneed me back at hq becaussseee if you d-“

He was caught off guard as he felt the greater being snatch his scarf with a steady hand. Error let out a terrified squeak and attempted to back away.

“Don'ttttt 'fuckin touch me! I’m nnnot goin’ anywhere with you!”

“Error it’s below freezing point and you are drunk out of your goddamn mind, we need to leave.”

He spoke assertively and without falter, like he knew Error would listen to him no matter what he proposed.

“'Don’ act like you care about me now! Misterrr, "Error can’t do anythin’ mure than what a baby can do.”

“When have I ever implied that I haven't thought you more capable of anything beyond what a child can do?”

404 knew that there was a more than likely chance he had treated him in that manner, but to Error, this should be a rhetorical question. One that he would challenge easily if he were sober.

Error stood there for what seemed like an eternity. He would've preferred physical touch over his mentor’s calculated, pitying gaze any day.

”Why were you crying?”

Error was caught off guard by his worried tone, not being used to his blatant concern, he looked up at him like a deer in headlights.

404 scowled as he realized it was more than likely he wouldn’t revive an answer, he attempted to rationally answer his simple question when he caught a glimpse of how foggy his eyes were, concluding that the alcohol had likely amplified his misery. 404 looked away, too remorseful to look at him. He took a deep breath and decided to break the silence.

“Never do this again.”

It was more an order than a request.  

“You-you’re not my- my fuckin’-“

“Error.”

Error stopped as he heard the concerned, scolding tone of his master, eyes snapping up to Four’s. He had known when he had continued coming here under him, he would one day be confronted by him and be yelled at for his self-destructive behavior.

This, of course, wasn't the first time he decided to do something reckless near his serene cliffed ledge. He would often come to Outertale looking, not just for comfort in the stars and endless galaxies the stars contained, but for fuel for his escapism.

He knew although they weren't human, he was still doing something intentionally damaging to himself, and it would likely have physical and mental repercussions. Yet, the jade-tinted and clear bottles fuzzed everything over, making the weight of what he could, and more importantly couldn’t remember of his past feel shockingly small.

He knew it wasn’t particularly good he still cared for numerous aus besides the original. He knew 404 might betray him after the restoration of Alphatale.

He knew after that he’d be nothing, not anything to his teacher, himself, or anyone of importance.

That thought made him chuckle.

Because why the actual fuck did he keep running back to someone who he knew would inevitably stab him in the back in the end?

 Was it because he deserved it? He deserved it, didn’t he? Error looked back up at him, but 404 didn't look that angered,

No.

He was upset, but not mad. And, that scared him more than anything in the multiverse. As if it were his way of saying "I’m not mad, I'm just disappointed".

From 404’s perspective, Error was giggling uncontrollably for what seemed like no reason. Letting out a soft sigh, the older skeleton grabbed him by his sleeve, Error seemed to flinch, but wasn’t as inclined to lash out at him as the last time he brushed him.

“Boy, can you walk?”

404 looked over towards him only to see him focusing on the bright twinkling lights above them, he looked tired, exhausted even. Error seemed to be teetering between the lines of consciousness, with his eyes staying closed for elongated periods.

“ERROR!”

He snapped, glitching in annoyance.

“Hmm?”

He looked completely unshaken. It was quite odd, if not a little unsettling to 404. In some ways, it pained him knowing the time he saw Error the most calm was when he was under the influence of alcohol, but it also brought a sort of twisted sense of happiness to him seeing his protegee at ease. That part though, was illogical and promoted harmful thinking.

“Can. you. walk?”

Error tilted his head in confusion, then responded.

“Mnh walkinsss-sooooo overrated, I think, I think we should just tel-teleport everywhere!”

He answered with a dopey smile.

“…I’m taking that as a no.”

Portaling was almost always seen as the favorable method of exit but with Error so intoxicated, and the weather in the alternative universe so vicious, he was almost certain they'd have to be in a more stable environment to use his magic.

Limpid stardust proceeded to hammer down upon the two stuck in the bitter cold. Despite Outertale being set in space and not underground, the weather wasn't much better as it still had below-freezing temperatures due to how spread out the gas particles were.

“God damnit Error.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed Error’s wrist, triggering the two to glitch out intensely before being teleported away.

Error realized, with a scare, that he was in the Anti-Void yet again. He hated that place. He despised the voices, he detested the never-ending white, and he loathed the isolation. He didn't want to be alone again. Had he done something wrong? Whatever it was, he would apologize as long as it meant not going back. He swayed on his feet, attempting to stay up without collapsing. He stayed like that for a while, attempting to regain his balance, before falling and repeating the cycle. Error couldn't fall asleep, not now, even if he couldn't remember why couldn't rest, he still felt on edge, like his very life was being threatened. He would clumsily try to stay in a fighting stance, continuously coming close to toppling.

He silently lay on the smooth floor after his tenth attempt or so. Error would have lost consciousness then and there if 404 hadn’t appeared before him at that moment.

“Up boy, I found a place for us to stay tonight.”

Getting up, Error swayed yet again, at this rate, he would likely pass out within the next few minutes.

“Why are we stayin' somewhere together? Ooh! Are we havin' a sleepover?”

404 exhaled, this was getting old fast, he could barely handle Error when he was sober; but drunk? That posed an entirely new challenge. He disregarded Error, instead pulling him through the portal he had entered through. Almost the entire time 404 was gone, he was working out an agreement with Bill!Sans to allow him and some of his other associates to use his facilities, including his lodging.

“Woahhh, this place is suuuuperrr weird.”

Error's head rapidly moved with his eyes as he cartoonishly looked around. 404 had no doubt he would be saying the same thing sober. The error had little filter for his insulting thoughts, adding alcohol into the mix just amplified it. The room that 404 had brought him to was perfectly normal but Error could sense Bill’s magic and energy in the area. Even if Error couldn't discern why the place was off-putting, he could still recognize that it was certainly not normal.

The slight scrape underneath Error’s eye seemed to now be gushing with blood, slowly dripping onto his clothes. The faint pitter-patter of blood slowly trickled down from the puddle on his scarf, softly splashing against the small beige carpet below their feet. While 404 rationalized what to do, Error seemed entranced by the red liquid. He pointed to the slowly growing puddle of blood and whispered something.

“Red.”

The room went dead silent. 404 stared at him dumbfoundedly. If he thought Error behaved immaturely before, now there was no doubt that he was acting completely childishly.

Error could see how 404’s mouth moved, clearly forming words but all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing. Suddenly, Seraphim was right in front of him and Error could feel his body being hauled into someone’s arms, his glitches fizzing, tickled by the new contact but surprisingly not glitching out nearly as much as normal. He squinted towards 404, who was staring at him like he was demented.

“Seraphim, please clean him of his blood and fetch me when you‘re done.”

Seraphim complied with a quick, “Yes, lord.” And started down the hallway, stopping occasionally to adjust the drunk skeleton. Error whined and quietly protested as he was carried down the scarcely lighted passageway. He so badly wanted 404 to be there with him for some reason.

At some point when being taken to the house, Error’s tears stopped flowing, his composure entirely changing to reflect how light and bouncy the alcohol made him feel a few hours previous.

Strangely shaped bottles and containers were swiped off the sink counter. Error was then placed on the bathroom countertop, entirely supporting his body with the wall behind him. His head made a light thudding noise as it hit the wall, Seraphim now made it a point to adjust him to be more comfortable. Error watched silently as a medical kit was placed next to him.

Error could barely feel the glass that was being torn out from underneath his eye socket with tweezers. Any time Error had gotten remotely close to zoning out he was met with a harsh pinch back to reality. Although the alcohol was numbing, he was far from invincible. He had attempted to turn around to look into the mirror behind him multiple times, but each attempt was met with a harsher tug back to reality.

The only takeaway from the situation was the concentrated healing magic that soothed the cuts under his eye and his hand. The only way he could describe it was conforming, a gentle warmness that he wanted to be enveloped by entirely.

The cuts, although healed fully, would likely still hurt more when he was sober.

Bandages covered his cuts like cloth over skin. His hand was wrapped tightly and with skill, and his under-eye was adequately covered. He almost immediately brought his uninjured hand up to poke and prod at the newly wrapped injury. As quickly as he lifted his arm, it was pushed down by a steady hand.

“No.”

Error pouted in return as if frowning would make Seraphim more compliant with his wishes.

Seraphim, without warning, went off to retrieve 404, and Error was terrified. Why had he left him? When would he be back? Would he be left alone again, like in the white endless void? The thought alone nearly crushed him.

The door opened, Seraphim returning. With relief, Error leaped off of the counter, stumbling towards him. Before Error could say anything, however, Seraphim began to speak.

“Error 404 would like you to change clothes, likely because the ones you are currently wearing are blood-stained.”

As if on cue, Error looked down to see the blood that had dripped down from his skull onto his clothes.

He liked his clothes though, even if they were a little bloody!

A folded pair of clothes were shoved into his arms. They consisted of a size-too-big black short-sleeved shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants in varying shades of blue and black.

“I will give you three minutes to change, if you fail to do so in that time, you will be assisted by myself, or someone else.”

Error’s weight heavily shifted to one side of his body, almost throwing off his balance once again.

“O-kayy!”

The moment the door shut, Error sat on the edge of the bathtub and removed his clothes in a matter of a minute. After taking off the majority of his clothes though, he couldn't bring himself to fully change. He couldn't take off his scarf. He couldn't ever explain his attachment to it but, he could barely function without it. Some part of him felt it was a fundamental need.

He ultimately chose not to remove his scarf as he continued to dress himself in an uncoordinated manner.

Almost the moment after he finished, the door clicked open. Seraphim looked af Error, hand instinctively grabbing Error’s scarf. Error let out a cry and batted his hand away. Wordlessly, Seraphim gripped Error’s arm and led him back down the hallway, directing him toward the living room.

When the two finally reached their destination, Seraphim was dismissed by 404 with nothing more than a flick of his wrist.

“Hi, Fourrr! Whyy didjya ask me to change?”

404 sighed in response. Error was without a doubt, going to annoy him tonight.

“Like.. I know blood is badddd buuut I like my jacket!”

“Error, please stop talking and lie down.”

He spoke, gesturing to the bed behind him, the only way 404 could think to describe the room was standard. The sole thing that seemed out of place in the room was a royal blue blanket he was planning on gifting to Error at a later time, likely a holiday. The blanket was neatly folded at the end of the bed. Stationed next to the bed was a black metal folding chair, a nightstand, and a small trash can.

Error, though drunk, could understand when someone (Especially Error 404,) wanted him to stop talking. Unluckily for his mentor, he was very curious in almost every sense. Error questioned him.

“Waaaiiit.. Are we like, are we like fightin’?”

“I suppose you could call it that”

Error went silent with his response, either satisfied with his answer or too drunk to speak much beyond that. Error hummed to himself as he stumbled the entire way to the bed, 404 watching with slight worry. Once Error had situated himself in the bed, his companion sat in the chair beside him. 404 used blue magic to move Error into the recovery position, with little to no protest from the tired skeleton. He also opened a window-like portal to Undernovela, seeing that Error hadn't quite drifted off just yet. 404 had also made the time to turn the lights in the room off, the only light in the room now being emitted from the portal he had summoned.

In a normal situation, he would employ Seraphim or another one of his subordinates to help Error settle himself for the night but, this felt different to 404. He couldn't figure out why but, this felt so much more personal to him. Perhaps it was because as his mentor he felt a certain level of responsibility for him. But maybe it was because he felt a certain obligation as his guardian to ensure his safety. Looking back to Error, who had now started hushedly rambling about "Asgoro" and how intricate his character was. 404 didn't respond to Error’s ranting, but instead, lent him a genuinely soft smile. Error, in turn, stopped speaking about Undernovela and beamed so radiantly, that 404 felt obligated to let out a small chuckle at his antics. Error quickly reacted with his own over-expressive cackle.

“Four…”

His voice was whiny as ever, and he had been irritating 404 for almost the whole night. At first, it was sort of endearing, but at this point, his constant talking was going to push him over the edge. He had found he had come to like his usage of this nickname, but that wasn't nearly enough to calm his annoyance with the drunken skeleton. 404 had to listen to over five hours of Error’s mindless babbling, and yet Error still wouldn’t sleep. At this point, he was even tempted to leave Error alone in the room for the rest of the night.

“What Error? What the hell is it that you want this fucking time?”

404 had significantly raised his voice in annoyance, almost to the point of yelling. His student seemed to crumple under the weight of 404’s anger, seeming to stop his stream of intemperate questions entirely. 404 watched with regret as Error’s expression collapsed, tears forming in his eye sockets. His throat closed up as he murmured his request.

“Four… I wanna go home…”

His voice had slightly glitched at the end, his voice breaking. The look of irritation that he was wearing significantly dropped, 404 didn’t know how to answer that.

“He could have killed himself, Bill! Hell, he almost did!”

404 had decided to stay with Error for physical and emotional support for the remainder of the time it had taken for him to fall asleep. (Which was surprisingly short.) He stayed within the room after the younger skeleton fell into a slumber, almost falling asleep himself. 404 had left an hour or two later to discuss what had occurred during his absence with Bill!Sans. 404 was indignant about the situation. They had been speaking about what had happened for a long while. They were in what appeared to be a meeting room, a long hardwood table with black monotonous chairs on each side. It was a surprisingly dull room. Standing next to Bill’s side were the obliterated remains of a bookshelf that 404 had thrown through a wall in anger.

“He was gone for–”

He closed his eyes, seemingly not calm enough to continue.

“Hey friend, breathe.”

404 had a particular hatred towards the kinds of nicknames that Bill would use with him and so despite Bill’s suggestion, 404 made no attempt to ease his breathing. How could he? How could he calm himself when Error had almost died? His voice broke the silence.

“He was gone for six hours, Bill.”

“I can't believe all this happened and I didn't realize. What would have happened if I hadn't been there sooner? What would have happened if he had fallen?”

He heavily shook his head and closed his eyes, resting his palms on the table in front of him.

“You should have seen how he looked at me. He was crying, drunk, and covered in blood. He was shaky and feverish, and weak, and– and he flinched! Not even like a small he shut his eyes but a full body flinch! Like he thought I would hurt him! And…”

“And it was all my fault.”

For once in his life, Bill was silent, eerily so. He didn't react, fearing that if he did, it wouldn't be just his bookshelf that was crushed this time. Bill swallowed, shuddering. 404 spoke once again.

“We need to make sure to pay more attention to his mental needs. Who knows what could happen if his state declines this much again? He already was physically and mentally damaged this time around, we should just be happy that it wasn't worse.”

Something in his lengthy lecture caught Bill’s attention.

“Tell me about it! The kiddo is totally gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”

“Please Bill, a hangover is something I could easily fix; however I won’t fix it this time. He was drinking recklessly and didn’t think before he acted, therefore, he should deal with the consequences. Error has more pressing matters than his hangover anyway.”

Bill hummed, he had noticed Error acting strangely lately, but not in what Bill would consider a good way. He seemed much more trapped in his thoughts and more likely to snap at people. Still, he didn't think that whatever he was going through was enough to make Error spiral so hard. To clarify, he began to ask his question.

“Wait, so why was he drinking?”

404 stood there for a moment, body shaking in rage. He didn't respond for what felt like an eternity, his face darkening.

“You uh… you good, 404?”

He had struck a nerve, but for once, it was entirely unintentional.

“Out.”

“You sure? You seem kinda…”

“Now.”

Waking with a horrible headache, he slowly opened his eyes to a mild yet still blazing light, closing his eyes once more, he slowly became aware of the discomforting sickness twisting in his gut.

What had transpired last night? He had no clue. Most of his memories were fuzzed over, blurry at best. He could recall his fight with his mentor, balling his fists and falling into the portal he made while telling 404 off. He had just wanted to escape the racing thoughts, the gaps in memories, the fear. That's when he remembered the alcohol.

His eyes opened again, widening as he attempted to hold back a gag. Lifting himself with shakey arms, he managed to raise his upper body with his forearms. His cloudy vision searched his surroundings, hoping for some clue as to where he was. It was hard to decrypt his surroundings with his blurry sight, but he could just barely make out the outline of a mattress covered in white sheets, there was also a closet in the wall opposite of him and a wooden nightstand next to him. He was in a room with powder-white walls and honey floorboards. His head throbbed and he felt like he was on a carousel as the room spun, though the dull-warm lights did help. He wished he could just rest, but the paranoia that he was in constant danger wouldn't permit him to.

Sitting up, he found a thin but soft large blue blanket draped over him. He attempted to leave the bed, shakily making an effort to stand, only to get interrupted by a scolding, (almost parental) voice.

“I wouldn't try to get up if I were you.”

And like clockwork, he bit down the rise of bile and magic in the back of his throat. Even if the nausea was vacant, his body was far too frail to support himself.

He delved into a coughing fit, making it even more difficult for him to prevent vomiting. He tightly gripped part of the headboard of the bed with one hand, attempting to steady himself. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he instead stared at the floor. Lately, it seemed he couldn't ever even keep eye contact for more than a few seconds. He sighed, glimpsing back up to his mentor, to see him holding a paper cup of what seemed to be a clear liquid.

“Drink.”

Great, now he wasn't even using full sentences with him, now Error was positive he completely despised him. Whenever he didn't use shitty complex metaphors or vague phrases, he knew he messed up with him. Why couldn't he ever do anything right?

Leaving the cup on the nightstand, 404 left the room.

404 watched his student fight what seemed like a mental conflict for about two minutes. He was out of it, even with his reactions slowed down by the alcohol he still seemed troubled by something. He had watched Error mutter and stir in his sleep almost all night. He was honestly slightly concerned.

Due to the nature of the Anti-Void and how the concept of time could be distorted, 404 would keep schedules for almost everyone and everything. Unfortunately for 404, Error hated his routines, even going as far as throwing "tantrums" and having breakdowns over the smallest changes. Despite them both being glitches, 404 found it extremely difficult to understand him at times. He couldn't seem to fathom how such small modifications to daily living could be so upsetting to someone. He hadn't immediately changed Error’s entire lifestyle, no, it was something he eased him into gradually, sensing his case was more severe than his and that he would take more time to adjust.

But no matter how much Error attempted to adjust to what his confidant deemed a "normal schedule," he couldn't develop normal behaviors and habits. More specifically, his sleep was extremely irregular. He was evidently an insomniac and would have frequent nightmares. He had tried consulting both Nightmare and the dream demon yet, they both seemed heavily perplexed by his night terrors, although, Bill had been able to give him some insight as to what was going on. According to him, Error was experiencing past related dreams. 404 decided not to ask about the contents of these dreams as Bill seemed slightly shaken by how vague and cryptic they were. The little information that was relayed to him though, was that his dreams were primarily focused on the loss of his family and the time with them he took for granted. His drunken cries for his home and sobs for comfort further proved Bill’s conclusion that he was having dreams that seemed to mirror his previous life.

Error looked back up, only to find that his mentor wasn't there anymore. He had left him. He had left him in a foreign place, with little explanation as to where he was. Error anxiously examined his surroundings again, looking for some clue as to where 404 may have gone, but the only difference he could find was the cup of what he presumed was water.

He shakily reached for the cup, almost spilling it as he brought it up to his mouth in a very uncoordinated manner. He quietly sipped on it as he attempted to clear his mind. If he weren't so hungover he might've been more hostile to waking up in an unfamiliar location and having his mentor disappear only moments after reuniting with him. But he was hungover. And he physically couldn't bring himself to even attempt getting up again. He supposed he could try to rely on 404 this one time and trust him to come back.

A minute or two after Error had finished his water, the door to the room slowly creaked open.

“Sir, where-”

He felt cool metal pressed to his forehead.

“Quiet.”

Usually, Error would find that reaction demeaning, but he was too tired to antagonize him. Besides, he found his attempt to hush him oddly comforting. A short, high-pitched beep rang out, and 404 retracted what appeared to be a thermometer.

“Well, at least you're not sick. You do appear to be hungover, however.”

“Mnhm… No shit.”

Error coughed out. Like he could read his mind 404 answered his unspoken question.

“Bill is allowing us and a few other of our allies to stay at one of his places for an indefinite period of time. I was already looking for a place for some of us to stay.”

“Wait why were you looking for somewhere else to stay? Don't we already have–”

“I was thinking of a more permanent residence.”

Error skeptically looked at him, narrowing his eyes. 404 seemed unfazed by this and proceeded to change the subject.

“Do you remember what I told you last night?”

He paused for a moment, clearly trying to remember what 404 had said to him. In his defense, he couldn’t remember anything that happened since he had started drinking the first bottle. Error softly shook his head, denying the fact that his memory could help him recollect 404 reprimanding him that night.

“Don’t ever do something like this again. Whatever it is that is stressing you out, you don’t have to admit it to me, but I would like you to stop thinking about it. If it is impacting your daily life so much, I’d like you to tell someone.”

Error couldn't find the words to respond to him. Part of him was still infuriated with even the implication that he was acting rashly, but the other side of him wanted so desperately to believe he could trust him. So he sat there and quietly nodded, hanging his head low after. He likely couldn't even reply if he found the means to articulate his thought. His throat was hoarse and felt as if it were lined with barbed wire. If he were to verbalize all of his replies, he did not doubt that he would be risking his voice.

“Great, now that’s settled, I’ll allow you to rest for the remainder of today with no distractions, I do wish for you to come down for food at least once.”

“Mhm.. Thanks F- sir.”

404 quickly attempted to expel the small smile that made its way to his face out of amusement from his student. He stood back up and started to make his way back toward the exit. Before he could leave the room, he turned on his heel, looking back to Error, who had now pulled the blanket over the entirety of his body from the neck down.

“Oh, and Error?”

Error turned to face him, his body twisting in the blanket. He tilted his head, anticipating an order or command.

“You know I'm glad you're safe right?”

Error froze in shock, his body tensing, how could he possibly respond to that? He gulped reflexively, now wishing he was still drunk. The first response that came to his mind was to snap, "No you aren't". Instead, winced in pain, his nausea resurfacing.

“Whatever.”

404 sighed at his childishness as he closed the door behind him.

Error turned his back toward the door and took off his scarf, bundling it into what looked like a confusing knot. He brought his arms around the scarf and hid the lower half of his face in it.

In the the middle of the night, 404 was woken up to the knowledge that Error had heaved, thankfully into the garbage can. He had ordered Seraphim to take care of Error almost immediately, hesitating to let someone perform such a task, even under his control. Judging by the information that Seraphim had relayed back to him, he seemed to have temporarily freaked out, calming down after his problem was resolved. Error was still slightly drunk; though, he seemed exceedingly distressed about something other than the fact he had vomited. His scarf had been taken by Seraphim briefly in order to prevent it from getting in his way.

Once his mentor left, he lay in the plush bed, mulling over 404’s words. He wiped a stray tear he hadn't realized had fallen.