Staggering steps soon lead to Error crumbling onto the floor. He had travelled far enough, refusing to stop walking until his legs gave out. He rolled onto his side and stared off into endless white. This was his prison, this would be where his dust would be if he ever died and even less likely, was found. His legs ached and his throat was parched, but he ignored it, staring off and grinding the tips of his phalanges against the floor, he did not know if it was to gain back feeling in them or to somehow ground him, but the only sensation was unpleasant.
He had felt hate for so long, he thought that well would last forever. He was wrong. That hate had burned out, it left him cold and tired. He could not force himself to destroy any more, he just wants to rest and be forgotten in time, a legend parents tell stories about, but are never actually true. He is real, but he does not want to be.
Error closed his eyes, he refused to acknowledge any fear or paranoia that he felt and forced himself to sleep, as whispers picked up in volume and pace.
People are pathetic, they relied too heavily on things like love and emotions. It truly eluded Fresh, he spent so much of his existence without feelings, for a long time, just a husk, before becoming something more. A while ago, he was granted the ability to feel, but it was not the experience he thought it would be. Instead of his stolen soul pounding when he was excited or his eye lights widening in awe at something he saw, he just felt a burning in his chest and an ugly longing for the things he could not have.
Fresh was angry and jealous, he wanted to feel happy and loved, but he could not. He could only watch as others fell in love, married, and had offspring. He would never experience that. He had felt nothing but jealousy at Blue and Dream's wedding, even if he plastered a smile on his face and congratulated them with a gift of marigolds in a vase. At the afterparty he walked off, not feeling up to pretending for the rest of the night.
It was a month later that Fresh finally broke. He let loose on an Outertale, spreading his virus, and turning the au to reflect his likeness. Corrupted monsters screamed in agony, which turned shrill as their voices got taken over by the virus. Fresh felt a new emotion, satisfaction.
Even though Error spent days travelling away from his spot, he still thought Ink would have found him by now and dragged him back, even if not to keep destroying. He was confused about how the artist could not find him after all this time, granted he never really installed a clock, so he did not know how long it had been. All he knew was that he did not care and wanted to be alone.
Staring into the distance, Error let some tears fall from his sockets. The voices picked up in volume, almost screaming into his non-existent ears. Ever since he stopped the voices have only gotten worse, insulting him, and mocking his choice to give up.
"You're nothing, but filth... you know that right?"
"I cannot believe you would stop; it is so boring here! I want to hear them scream while you rip their souls apart!"
"Coward! Coward! Coward!"
"I think your wrists are getting a little too smooth... cut them"
"That's a clever idea!"
"Yeah! Cut yourself Error!"
"Do it! Do it! Do it!"
The voices kept screaming at him, refusing to stop. He glanced at his phalanges and saw the marrow-stained floor, as well as steady trails of marrow dripping down the tips of his fingers. More tears fell from his sockets as he screamed at the voices to stop as he forced the claw-like parts of his fingers into his wrist. Scratching and pulling at the bone, till the marrow was dripping out quickly.
"YES! YES! YES! Just like that! Keep going till it falls off!"
"Yay! He is listening to us again!"
"Good boy, keep doing that!"
He absorbed their words into his mind and kept going. It hurt so much, but at the same time, the pain eased the sorrow in his soul.
Another au, another happy ending destroyed. Fresh watched as his virus took over the bodies of the monsters belonging to the universe. They always did break out into the most amazing colours. One he had seen turned into pure neon, if he could, he would have saved the monster to use as an example. Sadly, however, the monster dusted before he could secure their code.
When he watched as the once-happy people became consumed, he liked to pretend he felt joy about it. It was a nice pastime for a soulless being. He could not care about what happened to the people and that just convinced him to commit even more atrocities against the multiverse.
Letting out a yawn, Fresh skulked to Snowdin, where he had left the Sans of the universe trapped, to be used as his new host. Thankfully, the virus had yet to take hold.
Getting all up in the other's face, Fresh took off his glasses, exposing his true form. He wriggled out of his current skull. The body slumped and transformed back into Classic. He had sucked the soul dry, so any remaining lifeforce Classic had would be burned up before he even woke up.
Fear was the only emotion visible on the Sans's face as he forced his way into the new host's eye socket. Once fully inside, the body relaxed and transformed into the form he used. Stretching his new legs, he stood up. He should leave before the Stars show up and ruin his chaos.
Even more, time had passed, his wrist healed ages ago, or at least it felt like ages ago. It could not have been that long, right? He was the destroyer of worlds, even if he no longer did that, he had expected to at least deal with some of the people he used to interact with. His memories were a little fuzzy, but he knew Ink should have come, even Blue or Nightmare, hell, he had thought Reaper would show up to see what was up with his sudden lack of a full workload constantly.
He began to wonder if his existence meant anything to anyone, if it did, wouldn't he be found by now? He had to hold back tears, he knew Nightmare never loved him, even as they lay together in bed after a long session of lovemaking. Nightmare was not here with him, he forgot about him the moment he left.
Error scoffed to himself; Nightmare most likely started fucking Cross the moment Error failed to show up to their weekly dinner. He growled to himself, sitting up and summoning a Gaster Blaster, aiming it in a random direction and firing it. Error needed something to take his mind off all of this, it hurt his shard of a soul too much to think that no one cared that he was gone. He never cared before, why did it have to change?
He tossed bones and summoned Blasters, aimlessly attacking. By the time he was done, the ground was littered with broken bones and scorch marks. It was fitting that his last resting place was surrounded by unneeded violence.
Transferring his virus just became another part of his day, he would hop from Au to Au leaving them to be consumed and later corrupted till they gave out and destroyed themselves.
It was not the right thing to do, Fresh knew this, having drilled it into his skull for the longest time, but it did not change that he felt nothing for them. Good and bad were not something in Fresh's world and never were. Even in the passive role he had, he still took over the bodies of others to keep himself alive despite it hurting them. Now he took their bodies and any potential futures.
He felt nothing, even as he fought against opponents that had once been friends. Blue, Ink, and Dream tried to stop him so many times, they first pleaded, but when that did not work, they turned to violence. Blue and Dream's retirement was destroyed by a new enemy on the field.
The peace began to crumble. Nightmare is being set off by a new enemy, calling off the treaties immediately. Knowing he could afford to have enemies with the new buildup of negativity. The Stars are forced to fight against the Bad Sanses and Fresh to try and keep the balance.
Wiping tears from his sockets, Error swallowed down a whimper. Never would he have imagined he had become this weak just from being in the Anti-void for this long without leaving. Once, he had thought it made him strong, keeping him isolated, with no connections and no worries, but then there were both. Both quickly became too much for him, so that led him too here. Now without the company he loved, even if he would never say it aloud, he felt lost and without the hate, he was just empty. It was uncomfortable.
It made him feel like he was drowning in an inky darkness, it crushed his soul and made it hard to catch the breath he did not even need. It was filling him from the inside up! Without thinking, Error shoved his phalanges into his mouth as deep as he could, scraping at his throat. Nothing but saliva and a concerning amount of blood came up.
He choked on his fingers a few times before he finally dragged them out, spitting into the puddle of mostly blood. He felt sick.
He moved a few feet away from the puddle and laid down, pulling his legs close to his chest. For a moment he considered opening a portal before remembering that if he does not even have the magic to summon his tongues, he does not have it for anything else.
"Aww, poor baby, so lost and afraid!"
"And Ugly-"
"Shut Up!"
"It's true, we all know it!"
The voices bickering eventually faded to background noise as Error managed to drift off to sleep.
On the edge of a cliff in Outertale, Fresh sat watching the sky. All was quiet, a bit too much, but that is okay. The constant buzzing of his stolen soul was never quiet for long, soon enough it would ring against his socket again.
Fresh was bored. He had been forced to lie low for the time being, since the Stars decided it would be a grand idea to form an Anti him organization. Rude. He had been having so much fun before, so now it was odd to have nothing left to do.
Kicking his legs, he grabbed at the dirt for a stone and tossed it off into a nearby pond, the moonlight danced along the surface before being disrupted by ripples. He was like that, Aus just living their life, and like the rock he ruins it.
As the pond's surface smoothed, his breath was caught, what did that mean in his metaphor?
For a long while, Error did nothing but sleep and stare into the white. Not moving or consuming magic had eaten away at his body. His bones are now brittle and easy to break. He knew, having tried to get up, he broke a shard of bone off his wrist when he went to push himself up. He was weak, and he could not do anything about it.
The constant ache of pain had left Error used to the feeling. It was just another part of his dull existence. The cracks along his ribs certainly hurt the most; having always been more sensitive to pain than any other part of his body. Sometimes Error felt his sweater get damp, the red gets darker from his marrow. On those days he would roll onto his back and stare up into the "sky." Strings decorating it, hanging off large bones impaled into the ground and broken Gaster blasters. Error had done that in one of his many outbursts. It worked out in the end since it made him feel more in his element, especially the ones that still had marrow stained in them. The voices were silent today. Error did not know if he should be relieved or wary.
Outertale is a beautiful au, Fresh can acknowledge that, but it does get boring after a couple of months there. Company is also welcome at this point, but he could not be meticulous with what he does for a living. In the end, he did not need company, being alone is fine if he could not trust anyone else; not that he trusted anyone, to begin with.
Fresh stared up at one of many bright moons and was reminded of a story Ink had told him. Back when some loser was destroying the multiverse and Ink and Fresh were still friends. Ink had told him of a place called the Anti-Void; The Destroyer had lived there, and died there too with what Fresh heard. Ink always said that he hated the place for the complete lack of colour, but he still stuck around to enjoy the Destroyer's company, because he was fun to tease.
A grin spread across Fresh's face. He knew what he wanted to do now. He waved his hand and a colourful portal appeared in front of him. He walked through and for a moment, he was surprised. Everything was white as far as he could see. There were also many blue strings hanging from somewhere above. Upon closer inspection, Fresh sniggered to himself, the strings held souls up, many red, but a few deep blues and green. Guess they both were freaks in that regard. He wondered if he could find any other spots like this. He could even find the destroyer's dust. That would be sick.
Pulling out his skateboard, he took off skating in a direction, see if he can find anything, then dip, that was the plan.
At first, Error thought his mind was just playing tricks on him, but it was getting close, that sound of wheels. He forced his eye sockets open, and he looked around hastily, only to see an approaching figure, dressed very colourfully. At first, Error thought it was that paint asshole, but as the other skeleton came to be a yard away from him, he knew that was not the case. He strained his neck, to get a closer look, but without his glasses it was hard.
The skeleton stopped a couple of feet away from him and nudged Error with his foot. "You still kickin' Broski?" The skeleton asked with a devious smile on his face. Error did not trust it and only bared his teeth at the other.
Something about the smaller skeleton on the ground drew Fresh in. As he looked over him, his face became warm, and his stolen soul was buzzing a lot more than usual. The skeleton was... pretty. That is all Fresh could think of describing him. He also liked the insolence. It has been so long since anyone openly threatened him when they were caught.
"I like ya' brah, the name's Fresh," Fresh said extending his hand for a shake, his smile morphing into something more friendly. The small skeleton only stared at his hand suspiciously. "Can ya' at least tell me your name?" Fresh asked, getting a little impatient. The skeleton sensed this, so he offered up, "E-ErrOR-.... ERROR ERROR ERROR," he just kept repeating himself for a solid minute while his sockets were filled with static.
When Error came back, he softly apologized for his vocal malfunction. Fresh found it to be a cute little quirk, so he did not mind. "Error huh? Sounds familiar actually..." Fresh muttered more to himself than to Error. He tried to remember, but he has heard many names in his time, so Error was someone he heard about through Ink, no doubt. Error snickered then was interrupted by more static. He did not say anything when Fresh sent him a questioning look. It was weird having company after so long without.
The multiverse has healed from his reign, Error did not see a reason to smear his name when it lost its hard-fought meaning. It is best to forget what was, Error was not capable of being that person anymore. Thankfully, Fresh did not push the topic.
Fresh filed that away for later, he needed to investigate who Error was, no way someone like him did not have a story. Error was like an old computer barely holding together with the way he talked, and he looked different from most Sanses. Not in a bad way either. Blue marks embedded in his bones, were they natural or stains? Fresh was so curious about this new pawn. He wanted to touch, and figure out Error. He found his face heating up, now weirded out with himself, that was the first time he had ever thought like that.
After a couple of minutes passed in silence, it hit Fresh that Error had not moved at all beyond tilting his head. That struck him as odd. "Not judgin' or anything brah, but why are ya' on the ground like dat?" Fresh asked, nudging Error's side again, only this time Error gasped out in pain and curled away from him. Normally, Fresh would stop because it is the socially appropriate thing to do, but this time, he stopped because he genuinely felt bad. It was not even just a flash like usual, it stuck, weighing down his stolen soul.
"I CAn't moVe, my BOnes HAve beComE bRittlE from diSuse... PRetTy sUre one of my RiBs fell OFf whEn yOu kicKed mE" Error explained meekly. Somehow, that made Fresh feel even worse. He slid to his knees and felt around Error's ribs with care. That made Error jolt and let out a pained gasp. Backing up immediately, Fresh watched.
Error let out another gasp, having moved his arm to cradle his ribs; now knowing which one fell off. Sweat poured down his forehead as he sucked in a ragged breath, it hurt so bad. Fresh felt his stolen soul buzz around his socket and he felt like he was gonna have a migraine. For some reason, the soul was demanding something. Fresh could not understand. He pulled out some bandages out of his fanny pack; now glad, he started carrying that around. He looked at Error and held it out to the glitch.
Upon noticing the bandages being held in his direction, Error looked at Fresh suspiciously. He did not understand why he would help a stranger like him, especially him. Error was bad news, and he knew it.
After a solid minute of Fresh holding out the bandages without putting them away, Error snagged them, too hastily; if his creaky bones were any indication. Fresh looked away and Error lifted his shirt, not bothering with his coat. He winced. He was a bit too late as the rib that fell off had already turned to dust. Flakes of marrow caked his ribs and spine, but there was not much he could do about that. So, Error wrapped the bandages around the nub of his broken rib. It would have to do for now.
Error was confused. No one, even before he disappeared, had ever treated him this kindly. Ink and Nightmare would only ever hurt him and leave him to deal with their inflictions. Fresh is a stranger and yet he is shown more kindness than people who claimed love and friendship with him.
It was ironic and stupid, and now Error wanted to cry, but he could not in front of a stranger. His body was not on board, and the waterworks started.
Fresh was freaked. He did not know how to deal with people crying, he never has. All he knows is that the soul in his socket is pulsing painfully and making his chest ache. Not knowing what else to do, Fresh sat down next to Error and gently put his hand on his shoulder. "There there Brah, it's okay, let it out" Fresh spoke quietly, gently running his hand along Error's shoulder, in a way he hoped was comforting. Error did not push him away, so he continued.
After a solid five minutes of hushed sobs, Error began to compose himself. Tears still leaked from his sockets, but he was able to form proper sentences without his cries drowning out his words. "WHy aRe yOu... beIng so Nice tO Me?" Error asked and Fresh? He did not have an answer.
For some reason, Error made him curious in a way no one has before. Fresh shrugged and made something up. He has a connection with Error, he cannot lose that by exposing too much right off the bat. "Everyone deserves kindness brah, especially folks dat look like they've been through heck," he said and for a moment, he saw Error's eye lights widen. Fresh felt his face heat up more and he did not mind. Error's shock melted away into a small, but genuine smile.
Fresh then promised to never let that smile fade. He needed to protect this light. The folks of the multiverse would swallow him whole.