Chapter Text
He couldn't breathe
It was all too much. The scarf, the sleeves, the everything. It made him sick, every sensation sending pin-like feelings into his bones.
It's not the first time Ink has had an 'episode', as he likes to call them, not by a long shot. But it is the first time it's hit so hard and so sudden in a long time and at a time where he can't breakdown. Not here not now why now.
Breathe. He has to remind himself. It feels like an impossible task under all the layers. He needs to get rid of them it's too much all too much it burns.
Breathe.
Okay. First step. Take off scarf. Simple.
Should've been. Granted, Ink tried to carefully take it off, but he needed it off and careful didn't do that in a timely manner. Atleast nothing was tore. Hopefully. Kind of hard to hear over the ringing in his ears. When did that start?
Okay. Scarf off, dumped in a heap on the floor. Breathe. This time it comes easier. It's still a shaky inhale, but it's oxygen in his non-existent lungs.
One step done. Now the next step. Everything else. No, that wouldn't do, there's to much and where would he even start and if he moves wrong the feeling comes back and its bad and
Breathe. Wait shit nevermind can't breathe
He barely gets the thought out before ink rushes up and out his mouth and onto the ground and onto his shirt and its there and he can feel it through the fabric and on his bones.
Okay, so choice made for him. New shirt. But he doesn't have any new shirts. Sure, he could paint one up, but his hands won't stop shaking. When did that also start? And even then thats just a lot of work for someone who wants nothing more than to curl up and cry with as much bone lying agains as much cold tile thats physically possible.
So where does he get a new shirt? Buying one is out of the question, too many people, too loud, the smells and touching and just no. And his phone is who knows where. Probably on the floor from where he threw it. So he can't even look up the best way to get a shirt. Or call someone to bring him one.
Oh. He can call someone. Thats an option. Yeah, that sounds nice. But call needs phone. Okay, thats simple enough.
Phone, where is phone. If Ink was a phone, where would he be. The floor. Yeah. Because he threw it. In his room. Thats not too far.
Understatement? A little. Standing still had stopped everything from existing in his mind, but moving brought it all but with a rushing force. But it was simple enough, and oh hey look, there's his phone.
Okay, phone. Unlock phone. Go to contacts. Group chat. Star Sanses. Group call.
The ringing is a little greating on the ears. Stars why did he pick such a loud ringtone? He goes to reach for his scarf tk remind himself to change it only for his scarf not to be there and for the ringing to stop and be replaced with voices.
"Hey Ink!" High pitched, but not annoyingly so.
"Ink? You okay? You normally don't call when you need something." Softer, quieter, with a slight accent.
Dream. That's Dream. Hi Dream. Oh and Blue. Wait no, use your words, they're not a mindreader and the phone isnt either.
"...aa"
Well then. That's definitely not words.
"Ink?"
"Stay put Ink, we're coming over."
"Yeah, just..."
He tunes the rest out, and soon after theres the beeping of a hung up call. Something something, his name, and the rest is all gone.
So he just sits there on the carpet. Wait, when did he move to carpet? Wasn't he... oh yeah. His room, for his phone, to call his friends. Now he remembered. Good on you, Ink.
He's still sitting there, fingers digging into the carpet like it'll give way and let him dig an early grave when the voices come back.
He glances at his phone but, no, its gone dark. And then theres a hand on his shoulder and oh stars are the touching feelings needles burning is back.
He doesn't scream. He doesnt have enough air in his still non-existent lungs for that. But there are tears and a weak attempt to push away.
"Ink. Ink, I need you to look at me." A slight blow on his face. Its not pins and needles but its still not pleasant and he'd rather it not happen again.
"Blue, grab a shirt. And maybe some pants, please."
And thats how he found himself being stripped to his bear bones infront of his friends. Maybe he should've been flustered or a little embarrassed, but honestly, they've seen him in worse condition, plus the bad feeling is going away, so there's not a lot to complain about.
It makes breathing a little easier. A lot easier. The lingering feeling resides on his bones and all he wants to do is itch it, but its soon smothered by soft.
Its bright green and pink and a horrid zebra pattern, but its also the soften blanket known to monster kind and Ink just melts.
Has this happened before? Again, not the first, and likely not the last 'episode' Ink will have.
"Why don't we move to the living room? I can make us some tea and Blue can lay on top of you."
"Indeed! I shall be the bestest of the best living weighted blankets!"
Theres no time to respond before hes unceremoniously scooped up and carried. Which is fine. He'd say yes anyways. Blue makes a nice weighted blanket