She never quite understood the sentence marked on her wrist. What exactly was a "pocket Mercy?" From what she understood, the words "pocket" and "mercy" combined do not hold any meaning, so to see both words together on her soulmark is really odd. Her parents were just as confused when they read the small flowery letters that appeared on her seventh birthday. Nevertheless, they told her younger self that perhaps all will reveal itself in due time, and not to be too concerned with her soulmark.
It was only when she was nineteen did she finally understood the context. That year was the time she got into Overwatch. She loved that game, for its colourful characters, compelling story, and most importantly, enabling her to meet wonderful people online. As she was more drawn into the game, she got a better understanding of some gameplay terms other players would use, like "chokepoint", "c9", "squishies", "pocket healer". That last term gave her a hint on how she would first meet her soulmate, but she never quite realised what it truly meant until that day arrived.
It was another weekend where she decided to play another round of competitive matches. She was still halfway to her placement matches. Hopefully she could reach diamond this time, since her last season's rank was just in high platinum. Maybe for the next few matches she might have a team that would speak on voice chat. Her last two had been completely silent.
This time the match was taking place at Lijiang Tower, one of her favourite maps! The moment the hero selection screen came up, she instalocked Pharah. Call her a bitch for instalocking but hey she was a pretty great Pharah player. She just wanted to boop enemies off the map. Besides, if Pharah wasn’t working out she could switch later on. She’s not that big of an asshole.
She sat for a moment and watched as the other players picked out their heroes. They only had one healer, who was a Mercy. Sad. If they had another healer, she would have asked the Mercy if she could pocket her. Being an only healer on a team was difficult enough as it is. (She once tried to play support and god it was a horrifying experience. Her admiration for support mains skyrocketed after that.) Whelp, she can handle herself as a Pharah anyway. No need for any pocket healers with her.
As they got into their player characters, she checked voice chat. Huh. Four out of six players available, including herself. Hopefully these people are the more talkative ones, and not too toxic.
She tapped into her mike and let out a “Sup.” A chorus of voices greeted her from her headphones. They seemed friendly enough. So far, so good.
She looked at the Mercy player from her screen thoughtfully, then spoke, “Hey Mercy, you mind pocketing me for a while? You don’t have to stay with me the whole time though. I get that solo healing’s tough.”
There was a long pause, which made her feel slightly anxious. She hoped she didn’t sound demanding with her request. A soft giggle came from the Mercy player, and then she heard the words from a sweet angelic female voice.
“I’ll be your pocket Mercy.”
Note: i saw this in my drafts from like how many years ago and was surprised that I managed to write this out lmao. So I finished it. Hope it’s alright! :3
((Finally, I finished! Here’s my late Christmas New Year’s present, the extended edition of The Endless Sleep that no one asked for! I’ve been wanting to write this for a while now, and I was going to wait until I finished The Sleepless Wake, but I decided to get it started and discovered I wanted to add and change a lot more than I had planned to. And so, it somehow grew long enough to split it into two chapters.
This was originally meant to just have some extra scenes that didn’t change anything important, but it became more than “The Endless Sleep + a bonus,” so: this edition is replacing the original fic, which is now outdated, i.e. this edition is canon, and the original is not. I will not delete the original, which is still important to me as the fic that was born from random inspiration and grew into The Breathing Dead, but I have since developed a firmer grasp of the characters and the story I want to tell. I am much more satisfied with this version, to the point that the original now feels incomplete.
I’ve started going through The Sleepless Wake and making small changes to maintain consistency (and to polish it up in other ways while I’m at it). It may take a while for me to finish and actually edit the posts, but when I’m done, I’ll reblog them to let you know.
I’ll post Chapter 2 soon, probably within the next few days.
Final note: this chapter includes a super small appearance of a certain character from Asy’s backstory. It’s absolutely not necessary for you to have read it to understand or appreciate this fic, but if you haven’t yet, I don’t know, you might want to consider reading his backstory anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I hope you enjoy!))
Error lay curled up under a quilt on the couch, his head on the armrest and Glitch in his arms. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled in the corner of his eye. The scent of pine and gingerbread enveloped him, and lively chatter and laughter drifted over from the kitchen. It was the coziest evening he’d had all year, but he had never felt colder inside.
“Yo, Error brah!” Fresh stepped into view and flourished a frosted, star-shaped sugar cookie in front of him. “Last chance ta help radify da cookies!”
His too-bright “Radmas” sweater hurt Error’s eyes, so he closed them.
“…Brah. It’s been a month. Why ya still moping? It ain’t gonna make Geno wake up.”
Error’s arms tightened around Glitch. He heard Fresh step over and sit at the other end of the couch.
“Even Ma isn’t actin’ dis weird. It’s one thing ta be…attached ta Geno. But da way ya obsess over him? It’s unhealthy.”
“Shut up…”
“No need ta be rude. It’s just somethin’ ta consider. Maybe ya should see someone ’bout it.”
With a crunch of his cookie and the click of his Game Boy turning on, Fresh stopped talking. Error forced himself to relax. Soon scampering footsteps approached, and Ink shouted.
“Look Error! Look!”
He opened his eyes. Ink stood in front of him, beaming and holding a tray of skillfully frosted cookies. A few of them were gingerbread men decorated to look like—
“It’s you! And there’s me, and Fresh!”
Fresh leaned over for a closer look.
“Ah, nice!”
“Here! Mom already took pictures, so you both can have some!”
“Sweet!” Fresh picked up the cookie that looked like him. “Thanks, Inky!”
Ink held the tray right next to Error’s face. Error stared at the cookies, and Ink’s smile faded. Slowly, Error slid a hand out from under the quilt and took the gingerbread Error. Ink brightened again. Error nibbled on it, and Ink bounced on his feet.
“How is it?”
“Hnn.”
Ink deflated slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It’s good. I’m just…not hungry…”
“Ya barely ate supper,” said Fresh.
Error set the cookie back on the tray.
“I’ll eat it later.”
Ink frowned at him.
“Okay… You wanna go play?”
Huddling deeper under the quilt, Error looked down.
“No…”
Even without seeing it, he felt the disappointment on Ink’s face.
“I’ll play with ya,” said Fresh. “Wanna have a Pokémon battle?”
“Oh. Yeah, okay. Just a sec!”
Ink dashed off just as Asy bounded in, smears of frosting and the biggest grin spread across his face. His Santa hat was lopsided, and he still wore the dorkiest, most hideous pom-pom- and bauble-infested Christmas sweater Error had ever laid eyes on.
“Look, look, look!”
Eye lights sparkling, he held out a messily decorated gingerbread Asy. It was more frosting than cookie. Fresh gave Asy a thumbs up, his own cookie’s feet sticking out of his mouth. Asy was practically vibrating with delight.
“Ahahaha! Decorating Christmas cookies is so much fun!”
The energy began seeping out of him, and only then did Error realize he was glaring at Asy. He looked back down. How could everyone be so happy without Geno?
“Um…” Asy shuffled his feet. “Error, are you sure you don’t want to decorate one?”
He stayed silent, and Star called out.
“Hey Asy! Can I have a bite of that?”
Asy gasped and held his gingerbread self close to his chest. “No way!”
“Aw, c’mon.” Star approached, smirking mischievously. “I wanna see how it tastes!”
“Nuh-uh! I worked hard on this! You can have one of the other ones!”
“Just a bite!”
Star stretched out a paw, and Asy held the cookie out of reach. She chased Asy around the room, his sweater baubles jingling, and he let out a mock scream, both of them laughing.
“No! Don’t eat me!”
Ink returned with his Game Boy and sat between Fresh and Error. Then CQ strode in, followed by Com and Book.
Too many people. Too much noise. Error wondered if they would let him go to his room.
“Hey, listen up!” Everyone fell quiet, stopping to look at CQ. She smiled at all of them, but focused on Error. “The hospital called. Geno’s improving; he’s progressed to a vegetative state.”
There was a pause. Error sat up straight, and Asy stepped closer.
“Does that mean…?”
“Technically, he’s woken from his coma, but he hasn’t regained awareness. He’s still unresponsive. But it’s a big step toward recovery.”
Slight relief swept through Error. Ink smiled at him, and Asy hugged Book, who patted him on the back.
“Dat’s rad news!”
There was no joy, or relief, or anything in Fresh’s voice. He turned his attention back to his game. Error’s hands curled into fists, but he pushed Fresh out of his mind. Geno was getting better.
CQ knelt in front of him. “What did I tell you, huh?” She spread her arms, and they hugged. “He’ll get better. Just be patient.”
Error wished Geno could’ve been home in time for Christmas, to wake up with them the next morning and open the present Error had worked with Fresh to make, but this would have to be enough for now. Geno would recover and come home eventually. It was just a matter of time.
Another month had passed, and Geno’s condition was classified as a persistent vegetative state. He didn’t seem to be improving, and neither was Error.
He lay on the couch at Ink’s house, staring at the ceiling while he played cat’s cradle with his strings.
And then he was standing at the entrance to the room. Fresh stood next to him, and Ink was sitting on the couch, hand over his neck, Com beside him.
“…W-what happened?”
Ink glared at him.
“You choked me!”
Error tensed. “What…?”
“Ya yanked his scarf,” said Fresh. “What’s da last thing ya remember?”
“…I was on the couch…”
Ink stood up.
“I’m going to my room.”
“Ink…” said Com.
Ink stalked toward Error, who shrank back out of the way.
“I, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t talk to me!”
Ink left. Com made to follow, but hesitated beside Error.
“Go,” said Fresh. “I got dis.”
She nodded and hurried after Ink. Error turned to Fresh.
“Why’d I do that? What happened?” Once he got the details, he could apologize properly.
“Ya had a fight.”
“About what?!”
“From what I heard ’fore I came in, he wanted ta play an’ you didn’t. He was yellin’ ’bout ya always makin’ da excuse dat ya distracted, and ya never do anything, ’cept wait for Geno.” He paused, seeming to consider. As he went on, Error got the sense he was leaving some things out. “You accused him of not caring ’bout Geno, but. Like he said. We can’t do anything about him. Brah, Ink jus’ wanted ta hang out again? But ya told him ta find somethin’ else ta do, so he said he didn’t wanna play with ya anymore, an’…”
Hands clenched, Error trembled, waiting, but Fresh didn’t continue.
“…And what?”
“Eh… Ya sure ya wanna hear?”
“Tell me!”
Fresh shrugged.
“He said ya boring, and dat I’m a much better friend dan ya.”
Glitches flickered in Error’s eyes.
“Dat’s when ya yanked on his scarf an’ told him ta take back what he said.”
Maybe it was better not to try apologizing to Ink after all. At least for a while.
Ink ignored him for the rest of their visit, but he spoke with Fresh as though nothing had happened. Error tried to ignore Ink too. So what if he wanted to wait for Geno? Ink could find other ways to entertain himself if he was that bored.
Error wasn’t boring. He did plenty of things besides waiting, like watch movies that Fresh or their mother put on when Error happened to be in the room, and play with his Game Boy and puppets. Even though it was hard to focus, and those things got boring faster than they used to. It wasn’t like he just sat around all day, thinking about Geno. Stupid Ink, acting like Error wanted to be distracted, like he never tried to focus on other things…like Geno wasn’t more important anyway. If it was so easy for Ink to forget about him, then he didn’t care about Geno. Not as much as Error did. Maybe he never would. Just like Fresh. Ugh, no wonder they got along. No wonder Ink thought Fresh was a better friend. Fine. Error didn’t want a friend who didn’t care. He’d rather be alone.
And so he was, as alone as he could be while living with his mother and Fresh. It seemed CQ and Com had decided to give their sons time to cool off and make up, but after a week, during which Ink hung out with Fresh a few times without speaking a word to Error, CQ tried talking to him herself.
“We’re not friends anymore.” Error left it at that.
The next day, Asy watched over Error and Fresh. Error waited for him to bring up Ink, but he simply took them to the park. It was a crisp day, a little on the cold side, but Geno would’ve liked it. Fresh rode around on his skateboard, and Error sat on a swing. Asy slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the swing set.
“So, what’ve you been up to lately?”
Error swung slowly, feet almost brushing against the grass. He shrugged, but Asy kept watching him, so he said, “Stuff.”
“Anything interesting?”
Error squeezed the swing’s blue ropes.
“I guess.”
Asy was quiet for a moment.
“It’s been a while since you’ve looked like you were having fun.”
Of course it had. Wasn’t the reason obvious? But Asy didn’t seem to have the same problem. He, Ink, and CQ—how could all of them still smile and have fun like Fresh? Didn’t any of them care?
“Is there anything you want to do right now?” asked Asy.
Error pressed his feet down and skidded to a stop.
“…I want to see Geno.”
“Didn’t your mom say she’s gonna bring you to visit him tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“So… How about until then?”
“Don’t you even care?” Asy stared at him. “Don’t you want to see him too? Aren’t you upset that he’s like this?”
Frowning, Asy took a step closer. “Of course…”
“Then why are you pretending?!”
“What…?”
“You keep acting like everything’s okay! But it’s not!”
Asy didn’t move. His eye lights shimmered like water.
“No. It’s not. But it will be. He’ll get better; we just have to wait for him. But even though, not everything will feel right until he’s better, that doesn’t mean everything’s wrong. There are still things we can be happy about.”
Error looked away. “Like what?”
“Like family. We still have each other. All of you make me happy.”
It wasn’t like Error hated his family, but they didn’t make him feel particularly happy lately. Was that bad? Shouldn’t he feel more grateful?
“There are a lot of little things, too. Things you might not think about. Like…”
Was there something wrong with Error? It was natural to think about Geno so much, to be upset when he wasn’t okay. Why should his family make him happy when they weren’t all together? But…none of the others seemed this upset. Were they just better at hiding it? Or was Fresh right? Was Error’s focus on Geno unhealthy?
“…and you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
Error looked up. Asy’s sad smile faded. Eye sockets wet, Error lowered his head again.
“Error, if—”
“Just leave me alone.”
“…You sure—”
“Go away!”
Asy hesitated.
“Okay.”
He walked off. His footsteps stopped not too far away, and Error wiped his eyes. He hadn’t meant to yell at Asy. Error couldn’t keep pushing everyone away. He didn’t want to lose anyone else.
“Brah, what happened?”
Ugh, not Fresh. He always popped up to make things worse.
“None of your business!”
“ ’Nother fight? He’s just tryin’ ta help, ya know.” Error rubbed his sleeve over his eyes. Fresh was the last person he wanted to cry in front of. “…I don’t get it. Why won’t ya let anyone help ya? Do ya like da way things are?”
Not getting an answer, Fresh slid his skateboard into his pack and sat on the swing beside Error. He swung lightly back and forth.
“I thought ya were havin’ a p unrad time. Doesn’t make sense not ta try changin’ dat if ya can. And if ya havin’ trouble, why not let Ma and Uncle Asy help?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I’m just tryin’ ta understand.”
“Well stop! You’ll never understand! You can’t understand anything!”
“Dat’s not true. I understand lotsa things. But…people are weird. Dey don’t make much sense.”
“You’re the weird one!”
“Yeah. I know.”
Error huffed. “Freak…”
Fresh’s swing slowed to a stop.
“Name-callin’s unrad, broski.”
“I don’t care! Just leave me alone!”
Fresh considered him.
“Ya keep actin’ like ya wanna be alone. But den, sometimes I hear ya cryin’ when ya think no one’s around.” Error’s face grew hot. “Ma thinks ya feelin’ lonely. Is she wrong? Do ya mean it when ya tell us ta leave ya alone? Do ya jus’ not like cryin’ in front of people? Or, are ya cryin’ because you’re alone?”
More tears burned his eyes, and he turned his head away.
“Dat’s it, isn’t it? So why do ya push us all away? Is it us, or…? Nah. Maybe in part, but it’s also you. Ya don’t like hangin’ out with anyone…or talkin’ with ’em…”
It was almost like Fresh understood him. But he didn’t, he never would. It was just that creepy analyzing thing he was too good at. He’d stop if Error kept silent.
“Ya don’t wanna be alone, but ya don’t wanna do anything… Hmm. Okay. Think I got it.”
Fresh reached into his pack and pulled out a book. Returning his swing to a gentle sway, he opened to his bookmark and read. Error’s throat tightened. What was that supposed to mean? He didn’t want Fresh’s company. Why would Fresh offer anyway? He didn’t care. This wasn’t for Error’s sake. He was just trying to help because he was supposed to, or to stop Error from acting “unrad” or something. Error took in a breath to tell him to go away, but instead, a sob came out. He tried to stop his tears. All he could do was sit there, breaking down in front of Fresh and Asy and the other few people at the park. Fresh didn’t speak. Sitting close by, Asy seemed to waver between staying put and coming over.
“Y-you’re an idiot! I don’t, want you here! I hate you!”
Still, Fresh said nothing.
“{Funk} you!”
Aside from the censor and a faint frown, Fresh showed no sign of listening. Every breath wrenched at Error’s soul. The harder he tried to pull himself together, the harder it became.
“I miss Geno…!” He clutched his head, burying his face in his sleeves. “I miss Ink…!” Why was he telling Fresh these things? Was he that desperate to let his feelings out? It wouldn’t do any good. Fresh couldn’t understand him…but Error wanted him to.
He was in front of the swing set, standing over Fresh and Asy, who were sitting in the grass. Fresh winced while Asy stuck bandages over the bruises on his face. Error’s knuckles hurt, and his face still felt damp.
He didn’t need the details of what had happened. This was enough to know he had made a stupid mistake in opening up to Fresh. Error was the idiot for wishing for the impossible.
Watching his feet, Error allowed his mother’s lecture to wash over him. The moment she paused, he took the chance.
“I get it… Just ground me already.”
“Excuse me?”
“Can I go to my room now?”
“No. And I’m not grounding you.” He glanced up, and beside him, Fresh gave her a questioning look. She crossed her arms. “We both know that won’t do any good. But you’re not off the hook. I was thinking, maybe you’ll try harder to behave if I don’t take you with us to visit Geno tomorrow.”
He went still.
“No…” She wouldn’t.
“You can’t keep hurting your brother like this, Error. Your actions have consequences, and if you don’t want to accept them, then you’ll think twice next time.”
“No! It won’t happen again! Please take me with you!”
Her frown remained. What did he have to do to convince her? He had to see Geno. He’d do anything. He turned to Fresh.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for hitting you! I won’t do it again! Please, Mom, I won’t hurt him, I promise! Please take me with you!”
Her face started to soften. He was crying again.
“Please! I wanna see Geno!”
She sighed.
“You promise, huh…”
“Yes! I’ll be good!”
“…Okay. But if you break that promise, you won’t get to visit Geno for a month. Understand?”
Error drew a shaky breath.
“Yes.”
CQ nodded. “Fresh, you apologize too.”
The word “Why?” flashed across his glasses.
“ ’Kay, Ma.” He turned to Error, thinking.
“Forget it… I don’t care what you said.” He didn’t need to hear some insincere apology for something he didn’t even remember, and didn’t want to know about.
“Yo, for realsies?” Fresh glanced at their mother.
“Can I go now? Please?” She didn’t say no, so Error headed upstairs, to be alone.
When they arrived at Geno’s hospital room the next day, Error hoped as much as ever that this would be the day Geno started responding again. His eye socket was open, his light dim and focused on nothing. Error sat in the chair next to the bed and grabbed his brother’s hand. Geno’s fingers closed around his. CQ looked pained.
“Are you really sure…?” Error began.
“Yes. It’s just a reflex.”
Geno’s hand always did that, and CQ, Fresh and the doctor always called it a reflex, but some part of Geno must sense he was there.
“Geno… Can you hear me?”
No response. Error laid his head next to Geno, watching him. Just because his eye opened and closed, they said he had woken up, but that didn’t feel like the right term. How could he be awake without being aware? It was more like sleeping with his eye open.
“Please get better soon…”
Across the room, the page of a book rustled. Fresh wasn’t even sitting near Geno. Error stiffened. It wasn’t worth looking away from Geno to yell at Fresh. He should be used to Fresh not paying much attention to Geno during these visits, but it still made Error want to punch him.
…Geno would be so upset with Error if he knew he’d beaten up Fresh again. What had Geno told him? Error was supposed to help Fresh when Geno was gone. But Geno asked too much of him. He had never been able to deal with Fresh; at most, he could put up with him for a while. He could never be a great big brother like Geno, no matter how hard he tried. Fresh was too awful. Why did Geno love him?
Why did Geno love either of them as much as he did?
Error kept letting him down. He didn’t want Geno to learn he had done nothing but hurt Fresh while Geno was asleep. He wanted to make Geno proud. But Geno could never be proud of someone like Error, who nobody could train to be good, who did bad things no matter how many times he was punished. Maybe this was one of those consequences CQ had mentioned.
Error’s thumb stopped rubbing the back of Geno’s hand. Was his condition Error’s punishment, too? Just before he fell into his coma— No. That was because of Geno’s soul. It wasn’t Error’s fault. Even though he had been bad, Geno wouldn’t be punished with him. Right? Geno didn’t deserve to suffer. But…maybe Error did.
Bad behavior had consequences, but then…good behavior came with rewards. If this was his punishment for being bad, maybe Geno would get better faster if Error was good.
Suddenly, nothing was more important. He had to try, harder than he had ever tried before. He had to be good like Geno. No misbehaving—no destroying things—no hurting Fresh. No, go beyond that. Be nice to Fresh. Love him—well, maybe he didn’t have to go that far. Be realistic. Just be an okay big brother, if not a great one. But how, when Fresh couldn’t care? How did Geno do it?
He thought about it all day, and without finding any answers, decided he just had to try his best and keep asking himself what Geno would do.
First: Geno would try to hang out with Fresh. As Error’s first instinct was to ignore Fresh whenever possible, he concluded that this was going to be even more difficult than he had imagined.
He dawdled outside Fresh’s room for a while before knocking.
“Come in!”
Error opened the door and grimaced at the bright colors all around. Fresh sat on his bed, already in his pajamas, writing in some sort of journal. He finished up a line and looked over. Without his sunglasses on, his soulless stare bored into Error’s eyes.
“Error brah? Ya need somethin’?”
“No.” He looked away, scowling, and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. “I. Just. Wondered if, you wanted, to watch a movie.”
The stare drilled deeper into him.
“It’s a li’l late for dat, ain’t it? Almost bedtime, yo.”
“Hngh… A game, then? Just for a bit…”
“Bro.” He had turned to face Error, full attention on him. “Where’s dis comin’ from? Why da sudden interest in hangin’ out, and with me of all people?”
“F-forget it! If you don’t want to, I’ll just go to bed.”
“Nah, brah, I’ll play with ya. What game? Pokémon?” Error nodded. “Got it.”
He closed the journal, slid off his bed, and put his sunglasses on. Error peered at the journal.
“What is that?”
Fresh followed his gaze. “My journal. Writin’ everythin’ down helps a bit.”
“What do you mean, everything?”
“My observations.”
Error got the feeling he didn’t want to know any more than that.
They sat on Error’s bed with their Game Boys and turned them on. While Error felt uncomfortable having Fresh in his room, it was better than staying in Fresh’s.
“So, ya not gonna tell me why we’re hangin’ out?” Error kept his eyes on his screen. “Ya obviously don’t wanna hang out with me. So why ya forcin’ yaself?”
“Because.”
“Because…what?”
“Because Geno.” Then, with finality, “Come on, get your team ready, we’re having a battle.”
Fresh obliged but didn’t take the hint to quit questioning him.
“Isn’t he da reason ya’ve been too distracted ta hang out with anyone? But now he’s da reason ya tryin’?” He paused as though hoping for another clue, but Error’s silence also failed to deter him. “Why me, though? Ya never tried ta get along with me like dis before. Closest ya ever come is when we team up ta make presents for Geno brah.” Another pause. “Are ya doin’ it ’cause Geno’d want us ta get along?” Error huffed. “He’s always wanted dat. So why now? He’s not even here ta ’preciate it.”
“He will be.”
Fresh looked skeptical, but he seemed to choose his next words carefully.
“What if he doesn’t get better?” Error narrowed his eyes, and Fresh added, “Hypothetically speakin’.”
Error was too tired to argue.
“Then I’ll finally be able to kill you.”
“Dat’s, uh. A p unrad joke.”
“Who said I’m joking?”
His glasses turned blank. Then the “YOLO” returned with his grin.
“Ya won’t kill me, broski! You’re no killer.”
“Pfft. You know me so well, huh…”
“Aha, not really. You’re one puzzle I can’t figure out how ta put together.”
This conversation was getting too weird for Error, but Fresh kept going.
“And da others. Ma, Ink, everyone—dis whole thing with Geno. I feel like I got all dese pieces, but. Dey don’t fit. It’s…really frustrating.”
He didn’t look frustrated.
“What are you talking about? You can’t be frustrated.”
“Well. Not da way you can. But, it’s kinda close, I think?”
There was a knock on the door.
“Boys?”
“Yeah Ma?”
The door opened. CQ stared at them, baffled.
“Are you…playing together?”
“Sure are! Error brah asked, so I thought it’d be okay ta play a bit ’fore bed.”
Her face twisted into an even more confused expression that vaguely resembled a smile.
“Error did? That’s… Well! Okay? Wrap it up, then…”
Fresh gave her a thumbs up. She cast Error a questioning look, and he lowered his eyes.
Even after she left, they didn’t continue their conversation. Error tried not to think about what Fresh had said. He couldn’t feel. “Close” wasn’t good enough. And neither was Error.
“G’night, brah!” Their games off, Fresh headed out of Error’s room.
“…Goodnight.”
It was too soon to relax, but his first attempt at getting along with Fresh had gone better than he’d thought it would.
Although Error still didn’t enjoy Fresh’s company, with neither of them bringing up touchy subjects like Geno and Fresh’s non-feelings, the next few attempts went even better. Error was starting to wonder what he had been so worried about when Fresh mentioned Ink.
“If ya willin’ ta hang out with me, are ya gonna talk ta Ink? Ya know he’s waitin’ for ya?”
Error looked at him, away from the movie he had only been giving half his attention to. Fresh’s smile faltered.
“Oh yeah. Ya forgot ’cause of da crash.” His grin returned. “Well, he told me he’ll talk ta ya once ya ready ta play with him again!”
Error held Glitch tighter. Did that mean he still wanted to be friends? Fresh raised an eyebrow.
“I know ya still distracted, but I got da impression he was madder at ya not even tryin’ ta play with him. …Do ya still not want ta? Don’t ya miss him?”
It wasn’t that simple. Ink wanted Error’s full attention, and Error couldn’t give it to him. He’d only get mad again when Error couldn’t focus. Ink didn’t understand.
Yet Error was hanging out with Fresh. In a way, it was easier? Neither understood, or cared as much as he did, but Fresh didn’t get mad at Error or demand his attention. Lately, he disliked Fresh’s presence more than what he’d been saying or doing. Error would prefer Ink’s company if he’d only tolerate him spacing out. Either way, he had to deal with Fresh and keep up his goodness streak.
Be good. That meant he ought to at least apologize to Ink. Even if Ink was being selfish, Error had hurt him. He also needed to let Ink know not to wait for him.
He got up and headed to the phone. Fresh let him leave without a word. Holding Glitch in one hand, the phone in the other, Error dialed Com’s number, and she picked up.
“Can I talk to Ink?”
“Error? Oh, of course, just a moment.”
He shuffled his feet. Ink’s flat voice soon broke the silence.
“Yeah.”
Error wavered.
“I’m sorry. For pulling your scarf, and…” They were both quiet. “I can’t just, stop being distracted. So don’t hold your breath!” He hadn’t meant to say it that way, but now he wanted to keep going. “If being upset makes me boring, and you’re bored of me, then—I guess we can’t be friends!”
Trembling, he squeezed Glitch to his chest.
“Error, you’re not… I’m not bored of you. I just…wanna have fun with you again.”
“I— You mean I’m not fun anymore. That’s the same thing as boring!”
“No, I mean… I want you to have fun, with me. You haven’t been happy for months. You can’t just stay upset until Geno’s better! You need to think about other stuff sometimes! Like yourself…”
Oh.
“But…”
“Geno wouldn’t want you to worry about him so much. He’d want you to be happy, even while he’s gone.”
Ink was right.
“B-but how? I can’t stop thinking about him…”
Ink didn’t answer. Maybe there was no answer. All he could do was try.
“Error.”
He blinked to find Ink watching him, disgruntled.
“Sorry…”
Ink sighed. “I still think poking you when you get distracted would help keep you on your toes.”
“No!”
“I still think ya should see a shrink,” said Fresh.
“I don’t need a shrink!”
“Ya not makin’ progress on ya own.”
“I’m trying, I’m really trying—”
“I know, I know,” said Ink. “It’s okay.”
Error sank back in his seat, and subdued, the three of them kept playing games.
It had been almost two months, but Error’s efforts to limit his thoughts of Geno were going nowhere. On the other hand, having Ink around again made him feel a little less alone, unlike Fresh. Even with Ink sometimes joining them both, the increased exposure to Fresh had started to contaminate Error’s resolve. Every now and then Fresh said the wrong thing, or failed to react like he should, and a few times, Error barely restrained himself from hitting Fresh and letting all his good behavior go to waste. Fresh noticed and “encouraged” his self-control. This didn’t help.
Error couldn’t stop himself from glaring at and bickering, albeit one-sidedly, with Fresh whenever the urge arose. That included during supper that evening, right in front of CQ. He cut himself off and readied an apology, but she only picked at her food.
“…Mom? What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh.” She gave him a strained smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”
He frowned, and she looked away.
After supper, Error and Fresh put on a movie, but Error didn’t even glance at the screen. Had he imagined that redness in his mother’s eyes? Come to think of it, she had seemed depressed since they got back from their visit with Geno that afternoon. Why hadn’t Error noticed? Glitches swarmed over his eyes.
“{Dang} it…!”
“Language, brah.”
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
“Hey, chill. Why ya buggin’?”
“Are you blind?” Error scowled at himself for blurting that out while blinded by his glitches. “Something must’ve happened! Mom’s…”
His arms tightened around Glitch.
“ ’Course I see. But she doesn’t want ya ta know yet.”
Error turned his head toward Fresh. “Know what? Did she tell you something?”
“Nah.”
“But you know! What’s going on? Is it about Geno?”
“Ya not gonna let dis drop, are ya. Well, I heard her talkin’ with Aunt Com earlier. Looks like Geno’s not gonna pull through. Nothin’ da docs can do for him ’cept try ta keep him alive an’ wait, but… If he was improvin’, dere woulda been signs of it by now. Da chances of him recoverin’ after all dis time are next ta nil, so his doc’s callin’ his condition permanent.”
Error’s eye sockets twinged.
“…What?” It couldn’t be true. “You’re lying!”
“Yo, why would I lie? Dat’s totes unrad.”
“Then! The doctor’s wrong! Geno’s gonna get better! He just needs more time!”
“He’s not improvin’—”
Error threw out his hands and caught hold of Fresh’s jacket collar.
“He will!”
“Bro, da odds of—”
Error pinned him down and raised his fist. CQ’s voice called out.
“Boys, what’s going on down there?”
Faltering, Error let him go and drew back. Fresh started to speak, but Error leapt to his feet and stumbled away, bumping into furniture and walls. He found the handrail and made it upstairs.
“Error—”
He dodged past CQ to his room and slammed the door. He refused to listen to Geno’s doctor, or Fresh, or anyone else who said Geno would be stuck that way forever, including the voice of fear in his own head. No more doubt. No more worry. He could not believe in a future without Geno in it. Even if everyone else gave up on him, Error would wait for Geno, no matter how long it took him to wake up.
He lay on his bed. His soul didn’t quite relax, but it steadied. His glitches faded. He gazed at his starry walls and knew everything was going to be okay.
As though to prove him wrong, someone knocked on his door an hour later. A spark of energy flared through him. Alert and defensive, he watched the door.
“Brah, can I come in?”
Error rolled to his feet, swept over, and opened the door. Fresh analyzed him, then held out Glitch.
“Ya left Glitch downstairs. Thought ya might want it back.”
Error took his pillow, gaze fixed on Fresh’s face. Fresh considered.
“Ya seem calm.” He grinned. “Ya thinkin’ clearer now?”
“Yeah.” The energy coursed through Error’s bones, poised in his hands.
“Ahe, does dat mean ya’ve accepted dat Geno’s not gonna—”
He threw his fist into Fresh’s face. Fresh staggered backwards.
The energy drained away, and a cold weight sank in. Fresh held his face.
“What da heck, bro?”
“No… No, I didn’t mean to—”
He glanced down the hall at his mother’s door.
“Ya broke ya promise? I thought visitin’ Geno meant more ta ya dan dat.”
Everything was falling apart. Error seized Fresh’s sleeve, yanked him into the room, shut the door, and spun around to face him. Words tumbled out in a whisper.
“Don’t tell Mom, please, you can’t tell her!”
“Huh? Ya askin’ me ta keep it secret? Dude, she’d notice anyway. Dat punch definitely left a mark.”
It had.
“Then—hide it, or say you got it some other way!”
Fresh’s glasses flashed the word “unrad.”
“No. Ya hit me, after promisin’ not ta. Don’t try ta escape da consequences.”
A month without seeing Geno.
“Please, I need to see Geno! Please don’t let Mom find out. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just please…”
“Ya said dat last time. No one’s gonna trust ya if ya break ya promises.”
“I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear! Please keep it secret! Do this one thing for me, Fresh…”
He frowned.
“For you?” A smile spread over his face. “Ahehe. Ya really desperate, aren’t ya?”
Error froze up. Nothing was going to work. Fresh stepped forward.
“S’cuse me.”
Error dropped Glitch and pressed his arms and back against the door. Fresh stared at him.
“Broski, ya can’t keep me in here.”
“You can’t tell her.”
“She’s gonna come an’ find out. Actually, dat sounds like her now!” There were footsteps in the hall. “Hey Ma!”
“Shut up!” hissed Error. But he knew it was too late.
“Fresh? What’s going on?”
“Error’s not lettin’ me out.”
The doorknob turned. As the door pushed at him, Error pushed back.
“Error, open this door.” It forced him forward an inch. He dug his feet into the carpet, and CQ’s voice sharpened. “Now!”
The door shoved him further, and CQ squeezed through the opening into the room. Error leapt between her and Fresh, blocking her view of his face. CQ looked stern, but tired.
“What are you doing? Let your brother out.”
Fresh made to walk around him. Without thinking, Error shifted to block him again.
“Error—” She raised a hand, pausing as he flinched. Fresh stepped out from behind him. CQ’s eyes widened.
“Your face…!”
Error cast him a pleading look, praying for mercy he knew wouldn’t come. Fresh spoke without hesitation.
“He hit me.”
Error would never, ever forgive him.
CQ looked at Error. Her expression changed from one of anger to one of frustration and disappointment. Error hunched his shoulders.
“I didn’t mean to.” He waited, but CQ didn’t speak. “I’m sorry. Please don’t… Please let me keep visiting Geno.”
“I warned you. You knew what would happen if you broke your promise.”
“Mom, no, please…”
“One month.”
Tears burned his eye sockets. Fresh walked out, and CQ looked away.
“Please… C-can I at least see him on my birthday? It’s almost…”
“You should have thought of that before you hit your brother.”
His breath hitched.
“Please! I’ll do anything…!”
“It’s too late, Error.”
She stepped out, and glitches returned to his eyes. He clenched his hands.
“I-I hate you!”
He slammed the door. Sobbing, he sank to his knees and felt around for Glitch, then scooped the pillow into his arms.
Had he really been bad enough to deserve all this?
The day before Error’s birthday, Asy came over to watch him and Fresh. Error stayed in his room, listening to Asy and CQ talk downstairs. Soon enough, footsteps came upstairs, and Error wrapped a dark blanket around himself before waiting beside his door. He listened harder to the sounds of movement in CQ’s room. There was a soft thud and a jangle of keys, then more footsteps into the hall. The bathroom door opened and shut, just as he’d hoped. Now was his chance.
He slipped out of his room and into his mother’s, making as little noise as possible. Her purse sat on her bed. He opened it and fished out her keys. Tucking them into his hoodie pocket, he sneaked downstairs, trying to pass off his stealth as an act of shunning everyone. Asy and Fresh were on the couch, and as Error passed them, Asy spoke.
“Error… Can we talk?”
He entered the kitchen and got out a carton of juice from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard. After opening the carton and glancing at the kitchen entrance, he dropped the glass on the floor. It shattered. In moments, Asy appeared, Fresh tagging along. Error put on his best guilty expression and mumbled.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Asy. Error faked a cough and a shiver. “…Are you okay?”
He turned his head away. “I’m fine.”
Asy approached, watching his step despite wearing shoes. Error wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, continuing to fake-tremble. His sweat helped make it convincing.
“You don’t look so good…”
“I said I’m fine.” He reached for another glass.
“No, you go sit down. I’ll clean this up and bring you some juice, okay?”
He huffed, and Asy went to grab the broom. Error glanced at Fresh. Fresh raised an eyebrow.
“Broski, why—”
“Shut up!” Of course he saw through Error’s act. That’s what he had planned for. Fresh opened his mouth, and Error interrupted. “Go away!”
He hurled the carton at Fresh. Juice splashed all over him.
“Error!” said Asy.
Fresh stared down at his dripping clothes.
“Dude, uncool!” More juice spilled from the carton until he picked it up and set it on the counter. “Wastin’ juice, an’ money… Dis is one of my nice outfits, too. Now I gotta change…”
He strode out. Frowning, Asy stepped over with the broom.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Like you don’t know…” Error fake-coughed some more and headed out.
“Hey, watch your step—”
Error reached the front door, and with everyone distracted, he opened it and pulled out CQ’s keys. Aiming the car remote, he pressed the unlock button. The car beeped and the headlights flashed. Error stuffed the keys into his pocket and sneaked back upstairs.
CQ was in her room, rummaging through her purse. Silently cursing, Error crept into his room. She couldn’t leave without her keys. He had to return them without her noticing, but if she already realized they were missing… Could he leave them somewhere else for her to find? Maybe he could draw her out of her room and return the keys before she came back. Whatever he did, it had to be fast, or Asy or Fresh would get in the way.
Error hurried to the living room. Just after passing Fresh’s door, it opened. Error hid the keys under the couch, and footsteps came down the stairs. Error hurtled to the front door and slid outside. He had made too much noise, but it was too late to turn back. Maybe his plan could still work out. He got into the car, locked the doors, and climbed into the space behind the driver’s seat. Covering himself with the blanket, he curled into the smallest ball he could. And then he waited.
After a few minutes, he started to wonder if he had hidden the keys too well. He sat up, chancing a glance at the house. He didn’t see anyone through the windows. He faintly heard their voices. CQ called his name. Tensing, he hunched back up.
Soon the front door opened. Footsteps. The gate creaked. Error tried to stay still. The footsteps stopped outside the car. It was quiet, and then there was a rap on the car door. Error flinched.
Fresh’s voice called out, “Found him!” He then lowered his voice. “What’re ya doin’, brah? Ya just gonna get yaself inta more trouble.”
Error straightened up, trying to glare at Fresh, but his eyes flicked past him to the house. CQ and Asy rushed out and over to them, looking worried, and in CQ’s case, frustrated. Fresh stepped back, and CQ frowned through the window. She tried to open the door.
“Unlock the door, Error.” He trembled but shook his head. “Right now!”
“No.”
She bent closer to the glass, danger in her eyes. “Where did you put my keys?”
He kept silent. She turned her head away, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in and out. Then she looked back at him, slightly calmer.
“You’re not in trouble, so long as you unlock the door. I want to talk.”
“I’m not leaving till I can see Geno.”
Her frown deepened.
“I told you, not for a month. And if I have to unlock this door myself, I’ll make it another month.”
Error shifted, but stayed where he was. CQ stared at him, not looking away.
“Fresh, could you look for my keys?”
“Sure, Ma.” He strode back to the house. Asy kept to the side, watching in silence.
“Error, don’t make this worse for yourself,” said CQ.
He looked down.
“I wanna see Geno.”
“Did you think, if you stowed away, I would take you into the hospital with me?”
She let the silence draw out, growing more uncomfortable every second, until Error’s chest tightened so much it hurt to breathe.
“Please unlock the door. I want to sit down.”
Error tried to steady his breathing.
“Take me to see Geno.”
“…You’re not in a position to make demands.”
“Then I won’t leave.”
“What are you going to do? Sleep in the car? Starve yourself?”
Error hugged his knees to his chest. He’d sleep there if he had to. They wouldn’t let him starve. Either they would bring him food, or drag him out kicking and screaming.
The front door opened, and Fresh returned, keys jangling in his hand.
“This is your last chance,” said CQ. “Unlock the door.”
Fresh handed the keys to her. Eye sockets stinging, Error clambered over and unlocked it. Then he retreated to the far seat. CQ opened the door and sat beside him. She glanced at Asy, who murmured to Fresh, and the two of them went back inside the house. For a minute, CQ said nothing. Error rubbed his eyes. CQ gazed at the keys in her hands.
“Asy thinks I’m being too harsh on you. He’s right. I don’t want to keep you from seeing Geno, but…” Error glanced at her. She looked like she wanted to cry. “If it isn’t going to help, we have to figure out something else. You can’t keep hurting Fresh.”
That was all he could do. He had been good for so long, but he should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Trying again wasn’t an option, now that he wanted to hurt Fresh even more than before.
“You were getting along with him for a while. What made you start trying?”
He’d been stupid to think being good might help Geno recover. There was nothing he could do for him.
“Do you think you could try again?” Error shook his head. “Even if he was more careful about what he says?”
“I can’t.”
She sighed.
“You looked like you really wanted to get along. Even though you didn’t enjoy it… Are you just going to give up?”
What choice did he have?
“You know, messing up once doesn’t mean you’ve failed, or that everything you’ve worked for was for nothing.” She smiled at him. She looked tired. “If you fall, then pick yourself up again. You’re going to make mistakes. It’s what you do after that matters. If you learn from them, and keep trying, your mistakes can lead you to success.”
“…But I can’t… I hate him…”
She turned in her seat to face Error.
“I can’t make you like him. I’m just asking you to put up with him, and not hurt him.”
That was still a lot to ask.
“Is spending time with him really that bad?”
Error answered reluctantly.
“It wasn’t horrible.” But that was before.
“See? If you give it time, you might even start having fun with him.”
Error made a face.
“Could you try? For me?”
He didn’t think he could do it for anyone…but to refuse, like Fresh had refused to do the one thing Error had practically begged of him, would make him no better. While he couldn’t be like Geno, there was no way he would be as bad as Fresh. Fresh never tried, so Error would never stop trying.
“Okay.”
Her smile brightened with pride.
“Thank you.”
Error smiled slightly himself. CQ tilted her head to the door.
“What do you say we go back inside?” Error started to look away. “Listen. I’ll take you to see Geno tomorrow, okay?”
“You will?”
“Yeah.”
Some of the weight lifted off his chest.
“Can’t we…visit him today, too?”
The tiredness filled her face.
“Actually, I was hoping we could talk some more.”
“About what…?”
She took a few seconds to choose her words.
“About how you’ve been doing.”
He tugged the blanket closer around himself. “I’m fine.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“You stole my keys and tried to stow away in my car. But it’s not just that. You’ve been having trouble focusing and… Since Geno’s condition was diagnosed as permanent…”
“They’re wrong. Geno will get better.”
He glared at her, daring her to disagree, but after a moment of surprise, she nodded.
“It’s not common, but people in his condition have gotten better before, even after their doctors called it permanent. I’m not giving up on him.” Error relaxed a bit. “Still, this has been hard on all of us. Especially you. I want to make things easier. I know you’ve got so much going on in your head… You know you can talk to us about it, right? About anything. Maybe it’d help.”
He hunched up, gazing out the window.
“If you don’t want to talk…that’s fine. But I think it would be good for you to let those thoughts and feelings out. How would you feel about writing them down? Keeping a journal?”
He frowned at her.
“You wouldn’t have to share it with anyone. It’d be just for you. And if it doesn’t help, you could stop any time. What do you think? Willing to give it a try?”
“…I guess.”
“All right, I’ll get you a journal, then. Come on, let’s go inside.”
They climbed out of the car. At the doorstep, CQ paused.
“Just one more thing. Please apologize to Fresh for throwing juice all over him.”
They found Fresh and Asy on the couch, and Error stood in front of Fresh, forcing himself to look at him.
“Sorry for throwing juice on you.”
It wasn’t his most sincere apology, but it would do. Fresh smiled.
“Yo, apology accepted! I just…don’t get why ya did it. Why go ta all dat effort, knowin’ ya’d get in trouble, hopin’ ta visit someone who doesn’t even know when ya there?”
“Fresh.” CQ shot him a warning look. “Come with me. I want to talk.”
“Ah… ’Kay.”
He followed her out of the room, and Error glared after him.
“So,” said Asy. “Did you and your mom work something out?”
“Yeah.” He shifted focus, letting himself dwell on better things. “We’re going to visit Geno tomorrow.”
“Oh! That’s great! I knew she’d change her mind sooner or later. I’m glad it was in time for your birthday.”
Error nodded. He was grateful for that, but…
“Do you think…he’ll be better before my next birthday?”
Asy’s face fell, but hope lifted it back up.
“Maybe. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Error eyed him closely. “He will get better eventually.”
“Oh, definitely.” Asy’s smile shone with confidence. “He always pulls through, doesn’t he? This time it’s just taking a bit longer, that’s all.”
Error smiled and sat next to him. At least a couple of people would wait with him. He still had to confirm Ink believed in Geno’s recovery too, but surely Ink wouldn’t take Fresh’s side on this. Error closed his eyes and leaned against Asy.
In a few minutes, Fresh and CQ returned, and Fresh stopped in front of Error.
“Okay bro, I’m sorry. I know ya hate me askin’ questions ’bout Geno, or bringin’ him up at all, really. I’ll be more careful with my words, ’kay?”
“…Good.” Error still didn’t forgive him.
“Right, so, wanna watch a movie with me?”
“Hngh, not right now.”
“Guess I’ll save it for later, then. Ma, can I go outside?”
She sighed. “Sure.”
With that, Fresh left to skate around out front, like everything was normal, like all was right in his world.
Error’s birthday went well enough. He got several presents, including a journal, but the best present was of course the visit with Geno. Asy, Com and Ink came over to celebrate with them, and during a quiet hour, Error asked Ink if he had heard the news about Geno’s diagnosis.
“Yeah… Mom told me. But there’s still a chance he’ll get better. Even Fresh says so.”
“He does?”
“He said it’s not likely, but possible. But that we shouldn’t get our hopes up…”
Error crossed his arms. “Geno will get better.”
“I hope so.”
Ink hoping despite Fresh’s advice would have to be enough.
That evening, Error sat on his bed with his journal and a pencil and decided this had been a dumb idea. Sure, he sometimes wrote things out to himself when it got bad enough, but to regularly record his thoughts and feelings… Well, he had decided to try. Where to start, though? He thought it over for a while, then opened the journal and began writing.
Words came sparingly at first. Then they started to flow. CQ called out, but Error didn’t pay attention. Whatever it was could wait. He wrote about Geno, about how much he missed him, how frustrating it was to see Fresh smile so easily, how annoying he was, how Error wished Fresh could just care—
A knock on the door snapped his focus.
“Broski, did ya hear?”
“Not now!”
“Da brownies are ready!”
“I’ll be there in a minute!”
The door opened, and Fresh looked over with a curious smile.
“Whatcha doin’ dat’s more important dan brownies?”
Error shut his journal. “I didn’t say you could come in!”
“I’m not—hey, ya actually usin’ dat! I thought a journal was an odd present for ya, but—”
“Go away!”
Fresh raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave ya to it.”
He closed the door. Error listened to make sure he had left before continuing to write. He filled three and a half pages.
After a week of writing in the journal, Error noticed it getting a little easier to tolerate Fresh, not just because he said fewer things that irritated him, but because Error knew he would be able to rant about him on paper each night. While the painful feelings always returned, he felt calmer after writing them out. He felt less distracted.
As Fresh’s birthday approached, Error remembered what that meant and smirked to himself. Ever since he had found out what else was celebrated on the twentieth of April, he couldn’t resist teasing Fresh about it. This was one of the few safe ways he could come close to annoying Fresh.
The morning of his birthday, Error greeted him with his best innocent smile, which came out as more of a sadistic smirk.
“Hey Fresh.”
“Mornin’, brah! Huh, ya look…happy?”
“Oh, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday!”
Fresh stiffened, and Error hummed thoughtfully.
“What should I have for breakfast? Maybe…a cann-a-bis-cuits?”
“Bro. Dat’s not funny.”
In the afternoon, Error waited for the precise moment to ask Fresh what time it was.
“Oh, le’see, it’s…four twen—” The grin dropped off his face. “Error no.”
Error was laughing too hard to answer.
In the evening, he knocked on Fresh’s door.
“Come in.”
Error opened the door. Fresh was in his most colorful pajamas, writing in his journal again.
“Hey, Mom said there’s a chore you can do tomorrow for some extra cash.”
Fresh glanced at him, eyebrow raised in mistrust. Error faltered under his soulless stare.
“What chore?”
Error’s smirk was half-forced.
“Weeding the yard.”
“Broseph dat is not cool! Please stop.”
Maybe he had taken this too far. But…
“Come on, I have one more.”
“I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Knock knock.”
“Nobody’s home.”
“Knock knock!”
Fresh sighed.
“Who’s dere.”
“Mari.”
“Mari who.”
“Mari-juana hang out?”
Fresh was unsmiling.
“Ya done now? Had ya fun?”
Error stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking down.
“Yeah. Um. But I meant it. The question… Do you, wanna hang out.”
“Oh. Sure, just lemme finish dis up!”
“Yeah, okay.” Error turned and walked to his room.
He had no reason to feel bad. He hadn’t actually upset Fresh. Maybe his teasing was a little mean, but he’d only get this chance once a year, so of course he would take it. Seeing Fresh’s blank, humorless stare just sapped the fun out of it.
Ugh, he didn’t even get to enjoy the privilege of teasing his little brother.
He sat on his bed to wait, but he didn’t much feel like doing anything now. In a couple of minutes, Fresh walked through the open door, wearing his glasses.
“So what did ya wanna do?”
“I changed my mind…”
Fresh paused.
“Was it somethin’ I did?”
“No…”
“Hm. Well, it’s late anyway. We should get ta bed.”
Error got a weird feeling. Just as Fresh turned to the door, he remembered.
“Wait. Mom wanted me to tell you something.”
“What?”
Error thought harder.
“…I forgot.”
“Yo, maybe ya should start writin’ stuff like dat down, like in ya journal or somethin’. Recordin’ things in general might help ya remember ’em. Even if ya forget somethin’, ya could just look it up! Hey… If ya wrote down everythin’ important, it’d be a sort of backup of ya memories in case ya crash, too! Not perfect, of course—ya wouldn’t even get a chance ta write down stuff dat happens just before da crash—but it’d be better dan nothin’.”
“I don’t need to…” Error’s voice trailed off. Fresh had a point, but more than that, he had just opened up an even better idea. Error made up his mind in seconds. He would keep a record of everything that happened from then on—not for his sake, but for Geno’s. Once Geno got better, he’d be able to read through the record and learn about everything he had missed. Like Fresh had said, it was no substitute for the real thing, but better than nothing.
He needed a new journal, separate from his personal one.
“…Do you have a spare journal?”
Fresh grinned.
“Ahehe, sure do~ I’ll get it for ya!”
He left and returned with a red journal.
“Consider it a late birthday present!”
Error accepted it. “Thanks…”
He grabbed the pencil off his nightstand and opened the journal.
“Don’t stay up too late, broski.”
“Uh-huh.”
“G’night!”
“ ’Night.”
Error had already started writing down everything he remembered happening since Geno fell into his coma. He promised himself not to leave anything out, even the things that made him look bad. Geno deserved the whole, impartial truth. That didn’t stop Error from slipping in some personal notes and apologies, things he wanted Geno to know.
The weeks rolled by, and while Error found there were fewer things worth writing about in either of his journals, he kept both of them going. The days got hotter, so hot that even Fresh started spending less time outside. One afternoon left them so sweaty and lazy that he and Fresh sprawled on the floor with the lights out, Error’s blackout curtains shut tight, and gazed at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Fresh had even trekked downstairs to fetch them ice pops from the freezer. Error savored his. It was like raspberry winter on his tongue.
“Ya know what dis room needs?” said Fresh. “A fan.”
“Pssh, suck it up. This isn’t so bad.”
“Yo, I mean it. If ya not careful, ya could all up an’ get heatstroke.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“No, for real! In dis kinda heat, ya gotta take extra care ta stay hydrated an’ keep cool. Ice pops won’t cut it!”
“I don’t even have room for a fan.”
“Sure ya do! Ya could put one over dere, or on ya nightstand. Or maybe if ya cleaned up a li’l—”
“Ugh, no. Besides, even if I had a fan, I’d have to get up to turn it on.”
“Not dat difficult, ya lazybones. But if ya don’t wanna make room, maybe Ma could have a ceiling fan installed.”
“No way! You can’t just stick a fan in the middle of—it’d ruin the view!”
“I bet ya could find a space-themed fan. And maybe stick some more glow-in-da-dark stars on da blades, so when it’s spinnin’, it’d make rings of light! Dat’d be neat.”
Error squinted at the ceiling, imagining it. Dang it, Fresh was right.
“I guess…that’s kind of a good idea…”
“Ya like it?”
“Hnn, since when did you get so many good ideas?”
“I dunno. Are dey really dat special? Dey seem obvious ta me.”
Error frowned at him. Lying there with Fresh, talking with him… Somehow, none of this bothered Error. In fact, if Fresh were to leave, he might feel a little lonely. Had he gotten that desperate for company? He liked being around his mother, Ink and Asy, and at least one of them was around at any given time, so he could just spend time with them. But each of them had a different presence, and right now, Error preferred Fresh’s. He was never going to say so, of course.
Even though Fresh couldn’t understand his moods, he had learned how to read and respond to them better. He almost always knew when to shut up, when to apologize, and when to give Error his space. Error reminded himself of everything Fresh had done, or failed to do, and his creepy weirdness in general, and Error didn’t want to forgive him for any of it. He wouldn’t. Yet, something felt wrong.
Had Fresh always been trying so hard? Not to care, but to understand, and to learn how to behave. Error knew part of that was out of “frustration” and on their mother’s request, but…he must have been imagining things, or going crazy, because it felt like Fresh was also trying for his sake. Even more terrifying, Error was tempted to believe that feeling. The only time it fully went away was during visits with Geno.
With Fresh never sitting next to him, speaking to him, or mentioning him, sometimes it seemed like Fresh was ignoring Geno’s existence. At those moments, Error tried to ignore Fresh too, even though he never brought up Geno around him either. They both knew it would end badly. However, once Geno’s birthday arrived, Error decided to risk it.
“Let’s make a new scarf for Geno.”
Fresh paused, his face falling blank. Error crossed his arms.
“For when he wakes up.”
Fresh considered.
“Do ya want me ta say what I think?”
“I know what you think. I want you to help make another scarf for him.”
Fresh kept silent for a moment.
“ ’Kay, bro. Let’s do it.”
They made the scarf without speaking a word. Error wrapped it up and stored it in his closet, eager for the day he would be able to give it to his brother.
Geno missed Thanksgiving, and then another Christmas.
He missed all of their birthdays again.
And again.
Error’s collection of journals grew too big for the drawer he had kept them in, so he cleared out a spot in his room for a bookcase to transfer them over to.
Error became a teenager; Geno, too, continued to grow, but he showed no signs of improvement.
On the fourth anniversary of the start of Geno’s coma, Fresh spent the day at Ink’s house, leaving Error to wallow in depression. CQ stayed in the house with Error, but she had also learned to allow him this one day a year to rest. The energy he spent fighting to be happy without Geno constantly chipped away at him, and it got more difficult every year. Giving in for a day was a bittersweet treat, something he welcomed even though it worried the others, even though it meant suffocating under the weight of all the pain he normally tried to bury or lock away in his personal journal. This time, that pain was so heavy he barely managed to leave his room for food, and he wrote only two sentences in his record of events before bed:
It’s been four years. I miss you.
The next day, he struggled to regather his energy, to find the determination to continue his fight. Confused but understanding he needed more time, Fresh visited Ink again. Error idled in his room until the afternoon. Then he got out his violin. He didn’t play it as often as he’d like, since he wanted to keep it secret from Fresh, but he had gotten more opportunities since Fresh started hanging out with Ink more.
Error closed his eyes and played his violin, focusing all his thoughts and lingering emotions into music, letting it flow out through the strings and relax him. He played until his neck and back grew sore. Then he took a break and played some more. Once he felt satisfied, he put his violin away and lay on his bed, rubbing his wrist.
There was a knock on his door.
“Can I come in?”
Error froze. It was Fresh. When had he gotten back? Error sat up.
“Y-yeah.”
Fresh stepped inside and slid his hands into his pockets, smiling.
“Yo, you’ve gotten even better at da violin.”
Error’s face grew hot.
“What do you…”
“I know ya were tryin’ ta keep it secret. No clue why, but I don’t think ya should anymore.”
Error drew his knees up to his chest, glancing away.
“How long have you known?”
“For years.” Error resisted hiding his face in his knees and swearing. “Bro, what’s da problem? Ya sound great, considerin’ how little practice ya get. Ya got a lotta talent.”
“Yeah, right…”
“Ya do. And I know ya like it, so why don’t ya play more often? Now dat ya know I know, you can play when I’m around, yeah?”
“Why do you want me to?”
“Ya always seem ta be in a better mood after ya play ya violin.” He sat at the end of the bed. “I used ta think maybe it was ’cause of da time ya’d just had without me around, but dat doesn’t feel like da case anymore. Da violin makes ya happy, right?”
“But… So what if I’m happy or not?”
“Broski, I don’t wanna get in da way of ya havin’ a rad time. Just ’cause I don’t care doesn’t mean I’ll let ya go on bein’ unhappy if dere’s somethin’ I can do ta help.”
He had been trying to help for so long, hadn’t he?
“So, would ya be willin’ ta play some music for me sometime?”
“What? No way!”
“Why not?”
“I’m not playing in front of you!”
“There’s no need ta be shy!”
“I’m not—ugh, I don’t play for other people, okay?”
Fresh shrugged. “Okie dokie.”
Error did start playing his violin with Fresh in the house, though. Sometimes, after he finished playing a piece of music, he heard clapping from Fresh’s room. Flustered, it took him a few minutes to continue. He eventually started playing more often with the hope of hearing that applause.
One night, Error woke from the worst nightmare he’d had in months. Surrounded by darkness and silence, he glitched, trying to calm down and wipe the dream from his mind. His eyes burned. He wanted Geno there. He wanted to lie in Geno’s arms, to hear his voice, soft and warm, telling him that it was okay. His soul felt cold and heavy with exhaustion. All he could do was wait. It wasn’t enough. He needed more; he needed…someone.
Error slid off his bed and stepped out into the hallway. Outside Fresh’s door, the absurdity of what he was doing froze him to the spot. Fresh didn’t care how he felt, and he wouldn’t understand. But he would try to help. He would be there for Error, and that was all he needed right now. With a shiver, he gave the door a quiet knock and went inside. Fresh stirred, but he kept his eyes closed. Error shut the door and approached the bed.
“Fresh.” He stirred a bit more. “Wake up.”
Fresh’s eyes opened a crack, and sleepiness slurred his speech. “Bro? Wha’s goin’ on…?”
Error pulled the blanket off him. Fresh pushed himself up slightly, rubbing his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
Error shuffled his feet. “Move over.”
Fresh peered at him, uncomprehending, then shifted to the side of the bed. Error sat next to him and wrapped the blanket around himself, enfolding himself in warmth. Fresh sat up straighter and turned on his lamp.
“Error, what’re ya doin’? Did somethin’ happen?”
Error wavered.
“Bad dream.”
He avoided looking at Fresh.
“Ya wanna…talk about it?”
“No.”
“Den why’d ya come in here?”
He didn’t know how to answer. Fresh waited a moment and yawned.
“Look, it’s late. Whatever dis is, can it wait till mornin’?”
Error blinked tears from his eyes. He almost wiped at them, but stopped himself. So what if he cried in front of Fresh? He took a steadying breath.
“I…I miss Geno.”
“Ah… Ya know I don’t get dat. Wish I did…”
Fresh huddled up, his soulless stare on his blanket. Reluctantly, Error unwrapped it from around himself and tossed half the blanket over. They both covered themselves the best they could without touching each other.
“I dunno what ya want me ta say. I’m no good at comfortin’ people, and I’d probs make it worse if I tried.”
“Then don’t.”
They were quiet for a few minutes. Error’s tears kept coming. He supposed he should leave, that Fresh was waiting to go back to sleep, but Error wasn’t ready to return to his cold bed.
“I really don’t understand,” said Fresh. He watched Error, brow furrowed. “How can a dream interfere with ya sleep? Why’d ya come in here when ya know I can’t help ya? Why, after all dis time, can’t I figure any of it out? Why can’t I understand ya?”
Something like anger tinged his voice, but his eye lights remained empty. He really was trying. What if Error could help, even a little? He thought hard.
“Imagine…that you’re connected to someone.” Fresh blinked, then concentrated. “That your souls are connected. They’re part of you. When they’re happy…when they’re okay, you’re okay. But when they’re hurt, you feel it, too. And when they’re gone, it’s like that part of you is missing. You don’t…feel right, or complete, and you can’t, until they’re back. Loving someone is…sort of, something like that.”
He could see Fresh trying to put it together in his mind.
“Nope. I still don’t get it, but… Ta be so dependent on someone else… Why would ya wanna love anyone?”
Error frowned, wondering how to explain.
“When you love someone, they make you happy. Just being around them makes things better. They help you…”
He wasn’t explaining it well enough. Fresh looked even blanker.
“Ya lost me. It just, seems too risky. Doesn’t make sense…”
Error muttered. “Not everything has to make sense.”
Fresh looked away, smiling.
“Sometimes emotions look like some kinda sickness ta me. Dey make people act so illogical. Make ’em hurt themselves, an’ others. Doesn’t seem healthy. Doesn’t seem worth it. But I guess dere’s more to it, and I just can’t see da whole picture… ’Cause I’m da sick one, huh?”
Error didn’t know what to say. Fresh chuckled, the sound hollow.
“I’d never pass up a chance ta see dat big picture. But with da pieces I got, no matter how I look at ’em, I still seem better off than ya. You say ya feel incomplete without da one ya love, an’ if dat ‘connection’ is as strong as ya make it sound, I guess ya gonna lose dat part of yaself for good when Geno’s dead.” He looked Error in the eye. Even as his glitching got worse, Fresh continued. “Is it possible ta…I dunno…disconnect yaself from him? People can stop lovin’ each other, right? I think ya better try ’fore it’s too late. Whatever benefits come with lovin’ him—if dere even are any left, da way he is now—dey can’t be worth losin’ a piece of yaself for. So, for ya own health, ya should let him go.”
He grinned as though expecting reluctant appreciation for another helpful idea. Error stared at him, numb. He couldn’t speak for several seconds.
“It doesn’t. Work like that.”
“Ya sure?”
Error muttered through clenched teeth. “You can’t just decide to stop loving someone.”
“Ya can’t…or ya won’t?”
“Both!”
“Brah, ya already in denial ’bout Geno’s chances of recovery. I know ya can’t see clearly when it comes ta him, so I’m willin’ ta bet it is possible ta stop lovin’ him—at least more possible than him gettin’ better. Not sayin’ it’ll be easy, but—”
“Shut up! You’re wrong!”
Glitches darkened his vision. Fresh paused.
“Bro… I know ya don’t wanna hear any of dis. But I can’t keep humorin’ ya. Geno isn’t comin’ back, and if ya don’t accept dat and let him go, ya gonna get hurt. Ya already hurtin’. Ya can make it stop, so why wouldn’t ya try?”
Error flung the blanket off. “{Funk} you!” He leapt off the bed to his feet.
“Why don’t ya sleep on it?”
Spinning around, he punched Fresh.
“Shut the {fudge} up, you {rad}hole!”
Fresh didn’t speak, but Error hit him one more time before blundering toward the door. He made it into the hall and slammed the door behind him. Footsteps rushed over.
“What is going on?!”
He shoved past his mother to his room, warm tears spilling down his face.
How had he been such an idiot? How had he deluded himself into believing, for even a second, that Fresh could be there for him?
How had Fresh ever made him feel better?
Error lay on his bed under his blanket, gazing at the stars on his ceiling fan and tuning out the voices of CQ and Asy discussing what to do about him and Fresh downstairs. Having refused to say a word to CQ after she learned what had happened from Fresh, Error supposed she and Asy were bound to try talking to him again now that he had “slept it off” (surprise surprise, he hadn’t slept at all). Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Asy knocked on his door.
“Can I come in?”
“No.” The silence stretched tighter and tighter until Error gave in. “Fine…”
The door opened and closed, and Error looked at the wall.
“You hungry? Your mom said you haven’t left your room.”
He wasn’t hungry enough to risk going near them, especially Fresh. Maybe Asy wouldn’t be so bad. Slowly, Asy sat at the edge of the bed.
“You know, Fresh is trying his best to help.”
“Don’t you dare defend him! ‘Oh he can’t help it, he doesn’t understand, it’s not his fault he’s a piece of sh—’ ”
“Whoa there! Take it easy…”
Error rolled onto his side, facing the wall. “Why does everyone always take his side?”
“We’re not taking sides. You both… Both of you need to figure something out. I know you can get along.”
“Not anymore.” No amount of apologies from Fresh, or begging from CQ and Asy, or even guilt knowing he had let Geno down, would make Error give Fresh another chance.
Asy was quiet.
“Won’t you at least try?”
“No. He’s not worth my time.”
“…He’s your brother.”
“So what? He can go to hell for all I care.”
“Error…”
He sat up.
“He wants me to stop loving Geno!”
Asy frowned, his gaze steady.
“Is that the only thing you’re upset about?”
Error gripped his blanket.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well… You two have gotten pretty close, and…”
“Close? We’re not close! He can’t get close with anyone, and I’ve only been putting up with him because Mom asked me to, and because we’re stuck in the same damn house!”
Asy got quieter.
“It didn’t look that way to me.”
“Then you saw wrong! I hate him! Why would I even want to get close to some freak who can’t care back? Whose idea of ‘helping’ is to tell me to give up on the brother who actually does care about me?!”
He was crying again. What was wrong with him? He rubbed the tears away with his sleeve. This time, Asy couldn’t seem to think of something to say. They sat without another word for several minutes before there was a knock on the door.
“Error brah. Can we talk?”
“Go away!”
“I’ll give ya more time, then. But ya can’t avoid me forever.”
Error wanted to say, “Watch me!” but he knew Fresh was right. It was probably better to get it over with. He slid off the bed, ignoring the worry on Asy’s face. Asy followed him into the hall. Fresh stopped before the staircase and turned to them. His glasses were off, and he was holding an ice pack over his eye socket. Error faltered for only a second before striding over.
“Fine. You have something to say, then say it.”
“Right. Last night, I thought ya came ta me for help, so I tried ta give it to ya. But it was p unrad of me ta give advice for somethin’ I don’t understand, and ta keep pushin’ ya after ya told me it wouldn’t work. I’m sorry.”
“No you're not.”
Fresh lowered the ice pack. Dark bruising surrounded his eye socket, which squinted, half sealed shut.
“Nah, ’course I’m not sorry. But I shoulda known better, so I’m apologizin’ and lettin’ ya know it won’t happen again. Until I can understand dis whole deal with Geno, if I ever can, I’m done interferin’ in it. I’m gonna stop offerin’ help ya don’t want, and leave ya ta ‘cope’ with it your own way. I can’t see it endin’ well, but hey.” He pressed the ice pack to his eye with a smile. “My ‘help’ was never gonna be enough anyway, right? Us gettin’ along might keep Ma an’ da others satisfied, but yo, I know I can’t be a brother to ya da way Geno was. So if ya ever want us ta keep playin’ best bros, for their sake or for Geno’s, or whatever reason ya find ta put up with me, just let me know. But if ya decide not ta hang out with me anymore… Makes no difference ta me. Do what makes ya happy, ’cause I sure as heck can’t.”
He headed downstairs, leaving Error to feel like he had destroyed something irreplaceable, only he couldn’t pick up the pieces because nothing had been there in the first place.
Over the next few days, Error and Fresh steered clear of each other whenever possible. The tension grew suffocating until one afternoon, Error sat in the living room with him, playing a game while Fresh read a book. For each of them, the other’s presence in a room turned from a red light to a yellow one; they shared the space when they wanted, but they kept each other at a safe distance and never exchanged a word more than necessary. Sometimes they watched movies together, but only when joining their mother.
She, Asy and Com were giving them a chance to sort things out on their own. Ink struggled to be patient, caught in the middle of his two best friends’ stalemate. No matter how hard he tried to remain a link that held them together, Error refused to do almost anything with Ink if it involved Fresh, and Fresh insisted on it being Error’s choice. They ended up taking turns hanging out with Ink. On the rare occasions all three of them did get together, the atmosphere turned too uncomfortable for it to last, especially with Ink trying to convince or trick them into talking to each other (or in Error’s case, at least speaking in more than short, stiff sentences and grunts).
As the weeks went on, they settled into this state of distant tolerance. CQ made a few attempts to talk to and reconcile them, but neither budged until Error noticed her becoming disheartened. Determined though he was to never open up to Fresh again, he decided it was safe to take a step or two closer, so when the two of them next had the living room to themselves, he asked Fresh if he wanted to watch a movie.
From then on, they spent a little more time together, sometimes with movies or games, sometimes with family. They kept all talk impersonal, almost businesslike at first. They never entered each other’s rooms.
Error knew the others wanted them closer, but he and Fresh had reached a line that kept them out of arm’s reach from each other. Neither was going to cross it.
(@alainaprana, I guess you didn’t see this in your inbox even after I submitted it a second time? Or you queued it? Or if you didn’t want to post it, that’s fine. I’m just going to post it myself since some people want to see it.
Okay, hope y’all enjoy this non-canon extra for my fanfic, The Endless Sleep!)
Trembling, Error pushed himself up and crawled toward his door. He nudged his bed to the side, an inch at a time. No need to make it difficult for them to get to his dust. With the door unblocked, he lay beside his bed, panting. The ceiling fan hung above him, the light off.
After regaining enough strength, he wobbled to his feet and dragged his bedside table over, setting it upright beneath the fan. He climbed onto the table and looked at his hands. Blue strings rose up from his fingertips. The strings twisted themselves into a rope, and one end tied itself around the fan. Error tied the other end into a loop and gave the rope a few tugs. Seemed sturdy.
Fear quivered inside him. He gazed at the door, half hoping for it to open, for someone to walk in and stop him.
But nobody came.
The trembling in his legs grew worse. Error put his head through the loop and looked around at the shards of his lamp, his cracked phone, the torn sheets and pillows, the splintered pieces of his chair. There was only one thing left in this room for him to destroy.
I’m sorry, Geno.
He closed his eyes and stepped off the table.
For a split second, he fell, and then he jerked to a stop. The rope tightened around his neck. All the air left him, and panic flooded in to take its place. He clawed at the rope, his body thrashing. No—
No—he had changed his mind. He didn’t want to die.
He tried to scream for help. No sound came out.
He writhed, desperate to make the rope snap. It tightened even more.
He kicked his feet in search of the floor. They banged against the table.
The pain dwindled, and lights clouded his vision. He felt himself slipping away. Summoning up all his remaining strength, he swung his legs up and back onto the table. He almost slipped off, but straightened up enough to support his own weight and loosen the rope around his neck.
Error gasped for air and wrenched his head free. His legs gave out, and he fell to the floor, landing on his arm. Between gasps, he coughed. His neck throbbed, but he didn’t care. He was alive. Relief swept through him.
It didn’t last. His strength gone, he continued to lie there, his every breath a rasp. Nothing had changed. While the thought of death terrified him, so did the thought of living. He was too weak to end his life, and too weak to save himself. All he could do was wait for his hunger and exhaustion to end his life for him.
And so he waited.
The sound of a door shutting broke Error out of his daze. Early morning sunlight shone through the window. He heard people talking at the front of the house, and though he couldn’t make out their words, there was no mistaking Fresh’s voice.
Guilt flickered inside Error. He didn’t want to face his brother after what he’d done to him, after what he’d tried to do to himself. He didn’t want to face any of them, but they were bound to come into his room soon, knowing he still hadn’t eaten. Death hadn’t come fast enough.
A phone rang. A few seconds later, footsteps grew louder outside Error’s door. Someone knocked.
“Brah, open up!”
Error gazed at the floor, eyes out of focus.
“I’m comin’ in!”
The door swung open behind him. Error’s mind drifted to the blue rope dangling overhead. He waited for Fresh to speak, to ask some unfeeling question.
“…Bro?”
Fresh’s footsteps approached, and a hand rolled Error onto his back. Fresh knelt next to him, but Error kept his eyes averted.
“Why?” asked Fresh. “Why’d ya…”
Error didn’t answer. Slowly, Fresh grabbed Error’s face and turned it to him. Bandages covered Fresh’s face, wrapped around all but his uninjured eye and mouth. His eye stared into Error’s, seeming to waver with…shock? Pain? Error didn’t understand. He must’ve been hallucinating. His exhaustion was messing with his mind.
CQ’s voice rang out.
“Fresh! Error! Geno’s—Geno woke up! He—”
Fresh looked over his shoulder at the open door. Error’s eyes glazed over. It couldn’t be true. He was still alone in his room, hallucinating as he died. His mother appeared next to Fresh.
“Error…”
She stepped to his other side and slid a hand under his back, lifting him halfway and holding him in her arms. She couldn’t seem to find any words.
“Mom,” said Fresh. “Geno’s awake?”
A weak smile touched CQ’s face.
“Yes.” She hugged Error. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Error trembled. He wanted to believe this was real. He had to. Rubbing his back, CQ whispered it again.
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
CQ brought Error to the hospital, where he stayed for the next several days. The doctors kept a close eye on him as he recovered, making sure he wouldn’t make another attempt on his life, but the only thing Error was in danger of doing was leaving his bed to visit Geno’s room. Every time someone walked in, he asked them to let him visit his brother. CQ and Fresh already had, but the doctors forced Error to wait.
Once he was well enough, CQ convinced the doctors to let Error visit Geno with them. They walked down the halls to his room. Error resisted the urge to run ahead. He had to see for himself that Geno was really awake. At last, they reached his door and opened it.
Geno lay on his bed, gazing at the ceiling like always. Error hesitated.
“Geno?” His voice was hoarse from the damage caused by the rope, and little more than a whisper, but Geno looked over at them. He smiled.
“Error.”
A painful sort of joy swelled inside Error. He dashed over. Geno raised his arms, and Error hugged him. Geno squeezed him weakly back. He spoke, but with apparent difficulty.
“We’re…so old…”
Error could only smile. The six years they had lost still hurt to think about, but it seemed like nothing to all the years ahead of them, a lifetime with Geno at their side. Unless something else happened… Error pushed the thought from his mind. They’d face whatever came when it came, together.
“You okay?” Error asked.
“Yeah. Y-You…?”
“…I am now.”
They let go of each other, and Error drew back. CQ and Fresh stepped over. Geno’s eye drifted from Error to them and back again.
“You…hurt F-Fresh?”
Error’s smile vanished.
“Brah!” said Fresh. “I told ya not ta bring dat up!”
Almost angrily, he straightened the spare glasses he had put on over his bandages. Error lowered his head.
“I… I’m sorry… I just…”
Fresh wrapped an arm around him, clasping him to his side.
“Don’t worry ’bout it! I totes understand. I forgive ya.” He sounded sincere. Error fidgeted; he didn’t deserve forgiveness. “Was my fault, really. So, I’m da one dat should be sorry. An’ I am. Sorry, broski.”
He let go of Error and took a step away. Error stared at him. “What…? No, it’s not your fault. You were…”
“I was wrong,” said Fresh. “I said some un-fresh things. Shoulda believed in Geno like you did.” He didn’t meet any of their eyes, and neither did Error. Maybe they both held some of the blame, but Error held more. He couldn’t accept Fresh’s guilt. The idea that Fresh was feeling anything still confused him. It seemed surreal, but in a good way?
Geno started coughing. Distracted, Error drew closer.
“Geno!”
His coughing died down. After all this, Error had almost forgotten that Geno was still sick. The coma, the vegetative state, hadn’t changed that.
“Why?” said Geno.
Error frowned. Was he still asking about Fresh? Geno’s gaze lowered from Error’s face to his neck. With a tingle of shame, Error looked away, raising his hand to cover his rope burn scars.
“Geno,” said CQ. “Error will tell you what happened when he’s ready.”
Error glanced at her. “You didn’t…?”
She shook her head. “All we said was that you’re in the hospital, but you’re not in danger.”
Fresh watched him, not smiling. Error gave a small nod of thanks and lowered his hand. If Geno had to know, Error wanted to be the one to tell him, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Besides, Geno didn’t need that knowledge ‘hanging’ over him while he was recovering. Error almost gagged as the pun crossed his mind.
Geno dragged his hand over and grabbed Error’s. Tears trickled down Geno’s face. Error squeezed his brother’s hand.
“I’m okay, Geno. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on getting better.”
“Yo, dat’s right!” said Fresh. “You jus’ heal up. Leave Error ta me! Freshy-Fresh’ll keep an eye on him for ya!”
He lowered his glasses, closing his one good eye; Error couldn’t tell if he was blinking or winking, but when his eye opened again, there was a warmth in it that Error had never seen there before. Geno smiled, and CQ brushed away his tears.
“Dat’s more like it!” Fresh put his glasses back on and spread his arms. “Group hug!”
He pulled Error and CQ down within Geno’s reach, and they all hugged each other. Although Error felt uncomfortable for a moment, it passed. This wasn’t so bad. This was…good. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.
Geno hadn’t recovered completely from his coma or his sickness, and chances were he never would, but the odds meant little to Error now. Geno had woken from his endless sleep. For the first time, Fresh was feeling. They could never be sure how things might change, what might be lying just around the corner. For this reason, Error swore to never give up again. Whatever happened, as long as he had his family, he would stay strong. As long as they had each other, there was hope. And there, at that moment, in their arms…
