Chapter Text
When Error began living at the castle, there was an understanding that it'd be very, very hard for all of them to adjust. After all, Error wasn't all that conventional, being an ally rather than a 'worker', giving him more authority if he so chose to utilize it. He was often not a team player, so he rarely truly got along with anyone, even with Nightmare's crew. He was grumpy, unused to having to actually speak to anyone, making it highly unlikely he had anything nice to say or that he'd be able to keep the peace.
And, yet, there was something else that had caught everyone's attention: Error struggled with many concepts. Sure, he knew of a lot of objects and had seen some of them in use, but he really hadn't used most of them himself. Things like the shower and sinks, the oven and toaster, the TV... they were embarrassingly rough for him to tackle on his own. He was uncomfortable by how comfortable he was in his bed, how the floor and the walls felt, the constant stimuli of the world around him. The Anti-Void lacked proper time and, being inside of it, Error never had felt that hungry or actually had to sleep. So, now in a constant flow of time, his sleep schedule ranged from sleeping for a weeks at a time to never shutting his eyes. He could barely stomach most foods and his body had just begun to register that, perhaps, he was starving. His memory issues truly didn't help any of it at all, either.
Nightmare had purposed to work through all of this slowly. Horror helped a lot with the food aspect of Error's issues, having been there himself not that awfully long ago. Killer proved to have a fantastic amount of patience when working with Error, taking up the responsibility to teach or reteach how to use certain items. Cross eagerly aided in reminding Error of anything he needed to recall, becoming almost like a living planner book or journal for the glitch. Even Dust pitched in with his wide arsenal of coping mechanisms and tricks to make the constant noise and feelings seem more bearable.
While all of these aspects improved slightly in the short amount of time, Error's sleep did not. They found that a lot of things failed to get him to sleep and it was hard to wake him up.
Dust had suggested an alarm clock. Nightmare approved it.
Now he really wish he hadn't.
The alarm wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear outside of Error's room. However, Error's screams were. They began maybe a minute after the alarm should go off, seemingly nonsensical, accompanied by loud, shuttering wacks of what Nightmare assumed to be bone against various other materials. It wasn't even a second later that Nightmare himself was tearing down the hallway, still in his pajamas. He pushed into the room just as other pairs of foot falls joined the cacophony.
The sight that greeted them was glitching bone attacks everywhere, though an almost comically large one piercing the clock was the most notable. Error must've fallen off his bed because he was on the floor, his body twisting and contorting, glitches littering every aspect of him, particularly his eyes, which only harbored strings of code and the bugs. His screeching hadn't stopped. In fact, it seemed to grow into volume. He was grasping at his head roughly, digging fingers into his skull with almost murderous intent.
"Error?" Cross' voice came from behind Nightmare, drowned out. A few other words were breathed by the rest of the group, though Nightmare's focus on the glitch made it impossible for him to decipher whatever they had said.
In response, Error's wails increased, becoming more desperate as they clawed from the confines of his throat, wrenching from his opened maw, threatening to break his jaw, curling in the air in despairing howls and swells.
"SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUPSHUP," he cried, his hands moving to grip his nightstand. "BEQUIETBEQUIETSHUTUPSHUTUPIT'STOOLOUDSHUPSHUTUP-"
And with each word, Error brought his head down onto the piece of furniture as hard as he could. Over and over. Shut up shut up shut up over and over and over and over and and and-
It took Nightmare far too long to realize he needed to act. He couldn't touch Error under the risk of making this worse so he used a tendril to wrench the nightstand away from the glitch. His head came down once more, obviously meeting nothing but air. Combined with the sudden crash, the change caused a violent flinch, which was followed by Error's face warping into a dazed expression.
Several long moments passed in tense silence as Error regained some sense of reality.
"It's... It's too dark in here," Error croaked (Nightmare couldn't help but wince at the sound of his voice; it was so scratchy). Still stunned, the group watched as Error pushed to his feet and take a couple of stumbling steps before tripping over one of his attacks. On the floor again, Error let out a frustrated cry and sent another bone attack out, slamming it into the light switch and effectively turning it on, though destroying part of it in the process. Sparks stuttered from the damage.
"It's too dark!" Error wailed.
"We need flashlights," Cross whispered. Despite how quiet he was, Error jolted to look at him, his eyelights overlayed with static and fuzzy. His sockets narrowed, his mouth working but without sound. Nightmare could almost here it anyway ('who? Who are you?').
"Get out!" Error hissed. When there was no immediate movement, he repeated himself, this time a yell, and sent out one last bone attack. It went past Nightmare and straight into Cross's hand, resulting in a sharp yelp. Exactly at the same time, the negativity guardian's instincts kicked in, lashing out another tendril directly into Error, the glitch collapsing at the collision.
The conclusion was a crash on Error's part. The impact likely wouldn't be an injury to worry about, but it didn't make it any better for Nightmare. He turned to his companions, feeling like his throat had closed off. Still, he must speak.
"Dust, go get the flashlights. And find those old nightlights of yours and Horror's," he felt his tone was almost hollow. "Horror, go make breakfast. Killer, I want you to get the med kit and patch up Cross's hand and then give it to me."
Numbly, they nodded. Killer took Cross' good hand and led him off. A little nudge got the other two moving. Then he himself got to work.
He figured it was a bad idea to move Error from where he was now so he decided to make the destroyer more comfortable. He started with the pillows, which Error had a lot of. It began with two but, by the end of the first week here, Error mentioned that he liked the pillows and, eager to make him comfortable here, the othere residents, including Nightmare himself, brought him some more, one to three per person. Error had been so delighted and, admittedly, the way he had lit up was adorable. Likewise, he also had about four blankets to help combat the cold the glitch always seemed to be followed by.
(Every morning, Error, whether he was eating breakfast or not, whether he slept or not, would come out of his room wrapped in his black, fuzzy blanket. His arms would be folded over his chest, his fingers curled into the edges of the fabric. Sometimes, he'd come out with his eyes lidded with exhaustion and sometimes distant sadness, arms folded over his chest AND a rabbit plush that Cross had given him that he pretended he didn't like. Its charcoal torso and head blended into his PJs and hands, but the limbs of differing neon colors stuck out. It was an unspoken agreement to not mention it so they could all see Error burying his face into its belly and doze off while waiting to be served.)
(For good measure, Nightmare put the rabbit next to Error's limp form, too.)
By the time Error woke up again, Nightmare had gotten the lights and set them up, as well as got the first aid kit. He'd plopped down some ways away from the glitch.
He felt it had taken a bit for Error to wake. Nightmare didn't tend to his head, not wanting to cause anymore panic if the other had been roused while he worked, so great globs of half or fully dried marrow caught the lighting strangely. Error moved himself sluggishly, pushing up his form, letting his bedding tumble off of him. Soft whines emitted as hazy eyelights flicked to and fro, taking in everything they could. The hast that they possessed eventually faded and he went through it all again slower.
It took far too long for Nightmare to realize that Error was reteaching himself everything, identifying each object and the purpose, mouth working out the words into silent communication. 'B... Bed. Bed. I sleep there'. 'Cloos... Closet. Clothes go there'.
(Nightmare wished he could've given Error his glasses, to make this easier, but a quick skim around the room revealed that they were impaled on a bone through one lens.)
The glitch didn't seem to recognize the mess surrounding them like a graveyard.
He was the last thing Error identified and he'd never forget the spark that flashed in Error's mismatched sockets as he murmured: 'Nightmare. Safe... safe...'
Even then, Error wasn't fully coherent until about five minutes later.
"...ugh, my head hurts like a bitch," he complained, hanging his head with a low huff.
"That happens when you bash your head on your furniture," Nightmare remarked. "What happened?"
"...I... the alarm was..."
He trailed off, now taking in the rubble to deflect himself of the question, but the lord of negativity wasn't going to drop it so soon. Moving closer, Nightmare opened up the first kit.
"I'm going to clean up your head and you're going to explain to me what happened."
Error tensed, but the tone implied an unavoidable final. Nightmare began clearing away the marrow, surprisingly gentle as he cleared away liquid and flakes.
"It's fucking stupid," Error insisted.
"And when did we care about that?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it does."
With a sigh, Error closed his eyes. "The alarm was too loud."
"Oh."
"I just... I thought I was being attacked at first and then I heard the voices aga-"
"You heard voices?" Nightmare's hand froze above Error's skull, staring at him. Error turned away, picking at his shirt with quick movements, like he was digging through the threads, trying to find the one trying to unravel his being so he could keep together just a little bit longer.
"I haven't heard them for almost as long as we've had our agreement. I figured they were just gone but I think... I think my panic triggered them to come back? They scream and talk over each other and I hate them. They're loud and horrible and they always say awful shit about everything."
Nightmare let a sigh escape him. The rest of the patching up process was spent in silence, Nightmare mulling over this information as practiced hands wrapped bandages around the damaged, blackened skull and Error staring past his shoulder, looking exhausted and pained and waiting for the dust to lay claim to his body.
When he was finished, the two stood, the glitch unsteady but unwilling to deal with more physical contact, even through the blanket he wrapped around himself. They ventured through the forest of attacks (Nightmare caught Error's posture tightening further around himself with each one, choking on all the wrongs that could've happened) then into the hallway.
There didn't seem to be a single sound aside from the clamoring of cookware as the two approached the living room. Cross was curled into Killer's side on the couch, sandwiched in by Dust from behind. His skull pressed into Killer's chest as he stared at the floor, toying with the bandages lazily. From time to time, Killer would glide a hand over his head with a low hum or quick glance and Dust would stop Cross from damaging the bandages. They glanced up when Nightmare and Error came in, Cross making direct eye contact with Error.
The air was thick with something Nightmare didn't know how to describe.
Then Error looked down at Cross's hand and flinched back.
"...did... Did I do that?" He asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer.
"Error, it's okay," Cross muttered, bringing his pointer and middle finger to ghost along the bandaging, gaze never leaving the glitch's face.
"it's really n-"
"My hand will heal a lot easier than your head," Cross interrupted, a snap to his voice as his face hardened but, upon seeing Error curl in on himself some, dipped into softness once more.
"I'm sorry, bug. How's your head feeling?"
Outwardly not responding to the fairly new nickname, Error lightly kicked at the floor, socks clinging to the carpet. "Hurts like hell but it's fine."
"And how are you holding up?" Killer piped up.
"I'm okay."
"Are you really?"
Error didn't have an answer, Nightmare realized. Luckily, he didn't have to, as Horror shuffled into the living room, gripping a plate in his hands as he moved straight to the glitch. The ruby light of his eye seemed to have dulled with his worry over the smaller, blackened skeleton.
"They're chocolate chip," said Horror, nodding to the warm waffles before pushing them gently into Error until he took them. There was a brief nothingness in the air before Error sat down and began to pick through them, Horror watching the entire time like he was trying to ensure Error would throw them to the ground the moment he left.
Truly, no one else was any better.
When he was done, Horror took the plate before he could get up. Nightmare chased after him, letting him take care of the dish while he took the rest of the breakfast to the group. When Nightmare returned, Error had moved to his recliner, his shaky grasp wrapped around knitting needles while Dust was putting in a movie to watch.
Soon, everyone was settled in. And, as he looked around at tired faces, Nightmare decided that a day off was in order.
He would be lying if he said Error's tiny smile and relaxed posture didn't influence the decision.
(I mean, who wouldn't be happy to make Error feel safe?)