Chapter Text
Ink walked around the apartment. He was contemplating on what to write, since he had writer's block and couldn't think of anything. Error, who was watching the news in the living room, had the sound loud enough for Ink to hear the tv’s volume from his office. As much as Ink hated it, it meant Ink could listen to the news with no interruptions from Error’s snarky comments.
“As of late, 7 kids have gone missing. Ladies and gentlemen, please watch out for any suspicious activity in your area. It’s been three weeks, and in that small amount of time, we’ve had a total of 12 disappearances. Adults and kids all need to watch out, as it seems nobody is safe. Lock your doors, keep the windows shut, and never follow anyone you don’t know,” There was obvious panic in the woman’s voice as she reported the news. The segment changed, and the tv shut off. Not that Ink minded, he finally had an idea.
“Ink! I’m going out to get dinner, do you want anything?” The small stutter in Error’s voice stopped Ink’s pacing. He opened the door, walking into the kitchen, where Error was gathering his keys and jacket.
“I’m fine, just be careful. As much as I hate you, I’d rather you not go missing. I don’t hate you enough for that,” Ink handed Error his jacket, saying bye as he went back to his office.
It didn’t take long for Ink to start writing, only being disturbed by Error walking in and setting a bag on the table beside him. McDonalds, one of Ink’s few weaknesses. Ink glared at Error. “I said I didn’t want anything.”
“And I’m not letting you go an entire other night without eating. Either you eat, or I won't let you back in here.”
Ink gasped, his hand on his chest dramatically. “How cruel! Just because I’m not hungry? And besides, I need to write to make money.”
“We both know I make more than enough money for the both of us since I’m a graphic designer.”
“You work as a graphic designer as a hobby. I don’t even know what you do for a living.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just know I make enough money that I could be your sugar daddy, but I know you’re too stubborn to accept that.”
“I would never stoop so low to be a sugar baby,” Ink’s voice was heavy of disgust, “let alone your sugar baby.”
“Whatever you say, art boy,” Error left the room, leaving the bag on the desk.
‘It's a moment of weakness..’ Is what Ink kept repeating to himself as he grabbed the bag and opened it. 10 piece chicken nuggets and medium sized fries with a couple packs of different sauces. Despite their hatred for each other, Error sure did know Ink well. From his bad habits, to his favorite foods. Ink nearly smiled, but the thought of it being Error knowing all of this made the happy feeling go away.
Ink did, in fact, eat the food. Error was gone, probably on his nightly walk, by the time Ink was done, so Ink figured he’d tell Error ‘thank you’ the next day.
This night, however, will be one Ink would rather forget.