Error was sitting at the edge of the school playground, just waiting for recess to end so they could go back inside and he could stop waiting around. He didn't dare to play, not with the other kids that would hurt him without a second thought. He was funny.

Yet unexpectedly, a hooded figure his size climbed the fence on the other side of the field and started walking over. Error jolted, looking back at the teachers to see none of them had noticed. Weird.

Looking back at the stranger he recognized glowing yellow sockets staring from under that hood. Holy fuck, it was that kid. Pants kid. There wasn't anything even remarkable about his pants, they were just a pair of jeans, too. Error again, glanced back to see none of the adults had noticed. Weren't they supposed to notice someone literally climb over the fence?

Yet the other guy was already hesitantly waving. His phalanges were yellow! Like Error! Well, partly. He still had red, unlike the stranger. This guy was fucking weird.
"How the fuck did you do that without the teachers seeing you?" He demanded. Hey, he was a little scared. They tended to watch him pretty closely since.. some incidents, and yet here this guy was, jumping the fence and talking to him without a single adult noticing.

"I'm difficult to notice." The other replied.
"What kind of mysterious shit is that? You're literally the most obvious dumbass in the world, you look almost like me!" He gestured wildly, unsettled.
"You would be surprised." Came the enigmatic response.

Error stared in bewilderment, then scoffed, throwing up his hands.
"Fine! Whatever! Be mysterious and shit. Not my problem. Why are you here?"
"I wanted to talk." Pantja stated, sitting down next to the woodchips where Error had been sitting before.
"Wh- huh? The fuck? Did you stalk me or something? And get your nasty ass away from me, I know you're sleeping in sewers."

Unperturbed, he scooted away. "I saw you here." He explained vaguely. Still didn't say if he stalked them or not, but on second thought Error realized it'd be kind of impossible for someone to follow his mom's car on foot.
With that reasoning, Error slowly sat down again, nervous.
"..Why did you want to talk to me?"

Pantja blinked, his white eyelights studying Error in some way that felt kind of invasive. He wasn't sure how.
"Don't look at me like that, freak." He snapped, uneasy.
Those plain yet intense lights flicked away. "I'm sorry. I was curious. I.. I really have never seen someone look so much like me before."
"Only one of us has a striped face here, and it's not you." Error pointed out, uncomfortable at the calm, smooth voice that sounded uncannily like himself.
Just. Without the static and shit. And maybe a bit deeper. Like, a little bit. And sounding weirdly old.

"Why don't you play with the others?" Pantja asked, changing the subject.
"Well why don't you, asshole?" Error bristled.
There was an odd glint in those lights, almost like the motherfucker was amused by him.
"I'm a stranger to them. I don't belong here. I want to, though."
"Sucks to be you." Error retorted.
That actually made Pantja snort.
"What, that's funny to you?"
"You're so grumpy."

Error stared at him like the nutcase he was.
"Did you just fucking call me grumpy? What, you think you're older than me?"
The amused grin never left the other's face.
"I know I'm definitely older than you."
"Sure you are, you fuckin' pipsqueak."
"I'm actually a little taller than you."
"You're short, dumbass."
"I'm a child. So are you."
"Fuck off." He was a little annoyed that he was kind of amused himself. He didn't want to laugh, this freakazoid had waltzed in here and started chatting him up like they were besties!

"Are the others not nice to you?" The weirdo changed the subject. He sounded like gross, concerned grown-ups despite his tone sounding.. casual. Weird. Again.
"The fuck do you think?" Error quipped, leaning on his kneecaps and glaring at the fence.
"There's no point bothering them."

Pantja fell silent beside him, staring at the playground.
"They hurt you, didn't they."
Error twitched, not wanting to remember. "I know it's fucking stupid, now can you fuck off already?" He snarled, scowling at the almost blank face staring back at him.
He considered just finding another spot closer to the teachers, see it the weirdo would follow him then.
"I was hurt too."

The admission was normal enough, sounded like something some adult would say, yet there was something.. shaky about it. Scared. More than scared, he sounded like he was hurting now.
Error glanced over to see a weirdly blank expression as Pantja spoke.
"I don't know what yours did, but mine thought I was evil. I don't know why. It was before I even knew what evil was. They hurt me though. I was.. I was so scared. They wanted to end me. Kill me, I mean. I got so scared that magic…" He hesitated, and Error had to lean away. He felt.. something around the other, like a weight or breeze sort of rippling from him, or.. wiggling. Like snakes. Curling around Error too, and it was weird.

"Did magic react strangely when you got scared?" Pantja asked suddenly, a slight waver to his voice.. and a bit of an accent of some kind, too. Error purposefully looked away, dragging a phalange down his face to peel off a string. He twirled it around then, not wanting to look over.
"They don't break unless I make them break. They tie around Souls sometimes, don't know how they do it, though."

There was a faint gasp, but he refused to look over. He didn't want to think about how the other made him just.. show the strings. Using them scared him.
"They are powerful." Pantja murmured. "Especially for this age."
"What, I'm too young for that kinda magic?" He snapped, finally turning.

Pantja was right there, staring with intense white eyelights. It made him think of twin suns, ringed in yellow. "Back off!" He squeaked, startled at the closeness. The weirdo obliged, still staring.
For a moment, they both stared at each other.
Then Pantja shook his skull. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I was surprised. I wasn't calling you too young, more like the world is too old for you."
"Quit acting like you're old."

"... What if I told you I was in a coma for a while and didn't grow up during that time?" Pantja suggested with a quirk of a slightly mischievous grin.
"Sure, and I'm the president. Do you think I'm stupid?"
At that, Pantja chuckled. "Of course not. You would never believe the truth, though." His smile faltered, almost like he hadn't expected to say that.

"Right. So you won't tell me." Error huffed, surprised at himself as well. He didn't really mean to start talking, but now he realized that they were doing exactly that. Just talking. Huh. He'd only met this guy once before and it was almost a week ago, now they were talking like they were friends.
And he was okay with that??

"I could tell you." Pantja started, looking off to the side with the blank look again. Error could still feel the weird energy thing though, waving and moving through him like he wasn't there. It made him squirm, but he didn't leave.
"I could tell you." He repeated. "But you cannot tell an adult. They will fear me."

"You're a kid, why the fuck would they be scared of you. I'm not scared of you."
Those strangely knowing eyelights regarded him.
"You were when I first approached you."
Error scrunched into his hoodie then. "You literally climbed the fence and walked across the whole field without any grown-ups even seeing you!"
"And they never will, if I am to visit you again." He sounded weirdly sad about that.

Error stared for a minute, then spluttered. "Why the fuck are you doing that? Why me? Why not literally anyone else? And how are you making them not see us? Or notice or whatever!"
Pantja blinked at him like it was obvious.
"You're like me." He answered simply.

"You don't even have pixelexia." Error retorted.
"...I don't.. but there are other ways we are alike. And you are scared. I've been scared. I know what it's like." He seemed tired, saying that, leaning on his kneecaps. Error stared at him in bewilderment, then noticed something.
Pantja (he so had to find the guy a nickname) was worn out.

There were tears at the hems of his jeans and holes in his violet hoodie. The dark red fingerless gloves were threadbare while the soles of his shoes were worn smooth, frayed on the top with burrs clinging to the laces. It was all stuff he'd expected to see on a teen's clothes, not a kid like him. Not someone who's bones seemed to reflect rainbows- what kind of skeleton had bones that shiny?
He understood just how tired the other kid might really be then.

He sat back again, looking away guiltily.
"..Did you really run away from home?" He asked quietly, drawing in the dirt.
"No." Pantja answered quietly.
"I stayed as long as I could. I was taken from it in my sleep. I can't go back anyway." He stated somberly.

For a minute or two, Error dragged a woodchip through the earth, digging up a dandelion.
"... Who took you from your house? Why anyway?"
"Ah.. my home wasn't a house." Pantja explained, a bit awkward.
"But it was far from here.. and it no longer exists. My home is gone. I destroyed it because I was scared. I wish I had simply kicked those strangers out instead. Maybe it would still be here then."
"..What are you talking about?" Error turned to face him, confused. "Did you kill people?"

Pantja looked away quietly, that weird energy jolting side to side. An agitated feeling. Wait. Was that from him? Hang on, he never answered.
"You killed people." He realized. Pantja only pressed his face to his tucked in kneecaps.
"Jïsa." He mumbled. "Yes." He then added, accent heavy in that moment.

He recognized the shutdown as something Geno sometimes did, realizing he shouldn't press.
So he didn't. He just dragged the woodchip in the dirt, finally uprooting the weed.
The whistle for the end of recess then shrilly echoed across the playground, and Error glanced over at the teachers that had never noticed Pantja. It felt wrong to leave him like this.

"You know, I'm still not calling you pants." He suggested, shifting in place as everyone else started leaving. At first, the other didn't respond.
Then he lifted his skull and peered at Error with an odd look in his sockets. Uncertainty, maybe.
"..Then call me Nix." He practically whispered.

Error stood up with a huff. "That's actually kind of a normal name. Shoulda started with that."
Nix stared for a moment longer, then broke into a slightly intrigued grin.
"You're strange, Error."
"Says the freak." He replied, walking away.
There was a snort from Nix, who had risen to his feet as Error speedwalked off.
"I'll be here tomorrow." He spoke, voice faint with distance.
"There's no school on weekends, idiot!" Error shouted back.
"..When you're back, then?"
To that, Error shrugged, continuing on.

What a weirdo.
…How the fuck did that weirdo become his friend?

. • ° ° • .

They kept meeting.
At first, Pantja was internally unsettled at how easy it was to forget the many winters- well, years as they were called now- of never speaking of himself, never telling of where he had come from.
Then he remembered how he was born as a creature of change from magic, something that naturally was change. Just in different ways, usually.

He liked Error. He liked having and being a friend. It made him realize that before, those few individuals of Nevaska that had tried to express themselves like him when speaking had also been friends. They did not banter like this though. Error liked to call him mean things without the unkindness they were normally spoken with. It was funny. Like being called delinquent.

Error had found his tales hilarious, and didn't seem bothered by the strange things he didn't know or understand. He'd simply explain if asked, though it was often not something that helped. Pantja was used to that, though.

And then Error would talk about his brother, Geno. He'd go on and on about Geno, how his brother was sick with a damaged Soul, how he was the best person in the world. He loved his brother dearly, and hated how much time he spent at the hospital.
He would also occasionally rant about his other brother, the one he didn't like, Fresh.

Pantja wasn't sure why he despised Fresh. If Fresh could not help feeling nothing, then what was wrong with trying to act normal?
It was a lot like he felt, though in a different way.
He had to express like others when naturally he wanted to express in a way that couldn't even be seen. He occasionally spoke of how once, his face would be blank all the time. Error was a bit suspicious of him after that, but seemed to understand when Pantja described how he showed his emotions through the shapes and colors of magic, even if no one else could see it.

He found himself admitting more and more about the life he had before. He even brought out some of his old robes from the bottom of the pack, now wrapped in sheets he had stolen. He was used to stealing now. He knew what places could better deal with the absence of a few things. He had to protect his robes. They were all that remained of Nevaska. That and himself.

The reveal of the dyed furs prompted him to start rambling about his forgotten kingdom. Of the love and awe and magic that constantly flowed through it. Of the palace of the lights, colored in every hue and shaped unlike any castle or tower today. He would speak of some of the wonders that were commonplace there, things that had no name or imagining in the world of today.

Eventually Error asked him how he time traveled from there to now, seemingly thinking that was what happened. Pantja felt cold again, so cold that even Error could feel it from him.
"I didn't." He told him.
"When Nevaska was destroyed, I couldn't bear to leave it. So I stayed. Even when snow and ice covered me. I stopped breathing and fell asleep. I only woke up in a new place with people drilling through the ice to stab me."

Error could not believe that someone could just stop breathing and sleep, especially in a block of ice. Pantja- or as he let Error call him, Nix- only shrugged. The ice was part of him. The cold didn't bother him, nor the heat.
Well, the heat did, just not physically. He hated seeing everything wither from how hot it was here. It seemed to be getting hotter throughout the years.

Finally, when Error questioned how he could possibly do that.. Nix was forced to make a decision.
Tell the child the one thing he feared telling others.. or don't.
He told him.

He was magic. Magic was he. It was alive, as he had mentioned before, and had thoughts. Those thoughts were simply unlike anything any creature could think of. Just like the thoughts of creatures were alien to it. That was why he was born. Magic replicated everything, replaced all that was physical with itself, to become like them, to understand how they thought.
Except it wasn't like them. It couldn't think the same. He couldn't fully understand, though he was close.

Error had stared for a long while before scoffing.
"What are you, fucking Jesus?"
Nix had no idea who Jesus was, but as Error sighed in exasperation and explained, he was hit with memories and an echo of guilt.
That was a brief, final attempt at a god before magic fell silent ever after.
He decided that he would simply say no, as he did not want to get into whatever was going on with religion. Or, well, those religions.
Mortals were so weird.

Amusingly, Error agreed: people were weird, finally dropping the subject.
But now he knew what Nix was. Knew where he came from. What had happened.
And he realized that even if Error told anyone.. people didn't listen to children. They would simply believe that the story was imaginary.
Nix couldn't blame them. He understood the absurdity of it, how different it was from anything ever heard before.
There was a reason he did not try to explain.

Then came the day when Error came back with bewildered knowledge. He had looked up bodies discovered in ice and found jarring results.. including images of Nix from before his block was shipped to America. Error had found an attached story of how the facility was mysteriously destroyed with evidence of terrorism. All big words that he struggled to read.

The talks were filled with less snide remarks after that, Error asking genuine, concerned questions like how he stole things, how he even learned English, if he ate. Nix was able to answer honestly while shifting the topic to random adventures he had while exploring America. Eventually most of the humor and even some of the snark was back.
Especially when he started using the bad words Error was fond of. The reactions were hilarious. Error had decided that only he was allowed to swear.

Nix had declared that no, it should be the other way around. Apparently these not serious remarks of his true age were a part of friendship.
It was funny, though it still took getting used to. He was fully willing to do it to see Error pout then laugh instead of sulk like he'd been doing before Nix had started visiting.

After some time, Error cautiously admitted to telling his mother about Nix.
He.. wasn't surprised. He understood Error was close to his mother, often talking about her in passing like she was an unquestionable, unchangeable part of his life. Nix knew from the broadest of references that Error trusted his mother with everything.
Distantly, he wished he had done the same with his own mother, despite her lack of understanding of him. It didn't matter now.

The woman had brushed aside some of the things Error had told her, likely thinking them imaginary. She was wrong to think so, but it was understandable.
Finally, Error broached the topic of letting Nix visit his home.

Now that had been surprising. Nix had assumed the woman thought he was entirely imaginary.
In hindsight, he wasn't sure why. She had seen him once, briefly, fleeing from her.
Error thought he was afraid of meeting adults like his mother and uncle and aunt.

He was right. Nix was afraid. Parents and caretakers were adults that rushed to get children under a roof with their own minders. He knew he couldn't allow this. They would inevitably discover his strangeness.
He knew many things could happen with that discovery. He knew the worst outcomes were likely. He remembered all to clearly the blind fear of humans, from his own brief, confused memories and from the untold ages he carried internally from the watching gaze of magic.

But Error truly wanted him to visit. He wanted to play video games. Nix had to admit the concept intrigued him. He'd glimpsed things about them before, sold in stores and such.
Very well. He'd visit that weekend. Day of rest, Saturday. Error had been delighted, declaring a time his mother had suggested. Nix was glad Error had given him the time keeper- watch- then.
Saturday was tomorrow. Nix had agreed to come, and he knew he would need to prepare.

Years of living this new life had taught him the questions and concerns he would receive first. His clothes were worn- still an annoyance of these times, they rarely lasted long.
He had also learned of the insinuations certain clothes had, as well as general designations.
What he had now was outdoor wear, but it was too damaged. It was still functional, but would attract suspicion.

So he would double the amount of clothes he had. Nix still lacked the currency here, but he was used to stealing. He never enjoyed it, but he understood he was without a home. And those that had no home barely qualified as people here.
…He wanted to change that, but wasn't sure where to start.

Like every other time, he walked into the building, pack worn under his overcoat. Well, it was called a jacket, but it reminded him of an overcoat.
With a thought, he had all the watchers looking away, forgetting he was there. He never liked how much he'd grown accustomed to doing that.

He also knew there was little he could do for the nonliving "eyes", the cameras. He knew what they were now, though. He could stop light from reaching them. That seemed to stop them from seeing, though he was sure someone noticed that they could no longer see.

As it was, he could peruse the options available to children his size. He eventually found the most comfortable materials listed for sleeping in- at least, as comfortable as he dared. He preferred utility, and he liked how easy some things were to slip in and out of.

And there was another set for outside, though it had less pockets, made of slimmer, somewhat more comfortable material. Something he'd see more often on other children, when the ones his "age" were wearing jeans. It was strangely uncommon from what he could tell.
That done, he picked up a more comfortable crimson hoodie, the inside lined with something fuzzy with a vague semblance to fur, but he knew it wasn't actually fur.

All that was left now was new shoes. And socks, of course. The options were typically so colorful. He found them interesting, but it was rare to find a pair that could actually last. He preferred the ones made of slightly differently textured materials that were often darker, greener colors.
Black would do, though the bits of green and brown remained.

He simply decided on two new pairs of socks, one with the strange textures on the bottom and another that was supposedly for snuggling. It would go with what he'd wear at Error's "sleep over".
He'd heard of them before, but he wasn't sure what it entailed other than, well, sleeping. Which didn't sound like much when they were talked about in such high regard. He was going to find out, it seemed.
At least he probably won't have to ask. Likely. Hopefully. Maybe he could figure it out from memories if he needed to know.

Though something that didn't belong on the shelf caught his attention.
There, pushed in and forcing pairs of shoes aside was something he'd heard be called a plush.
Setting the removed tags on the shelf, Pa- Nix took the squishy thing. The tag called it a pillow pet, showing that it could be made a little more compact with a slight resemblance to some kind of animal.

Though he had never seen an animal with such colorful fur. It almost reminded him of the lights in the sky, rippling with energy, something he could only see in his now long forgotten land. The blue of the underside being the same hue as the sky helped.

It was really unnecessary, but he considered taking it. Children with these things were disarming, right? He would be less suspicious if he had something children normally had.
He considered the modern name of the lights. Aurora Borealis. It was elegant, just like the lights, though the ones on the other side of the world were more famous than the ones he knew. No matter.
…He was taking it. He was reminded of home when he beheld the false fur, he couldn't just leave it.

Discreetly removing the tag, Nix quickly tightened the.. velcro? That. It folded, and he set it under his shirt for safekeeping.
It seemed that would be everything. He considered obtaining food as a gift for the people that would be letting him into their home.
That was normal, right? There were memories of numerous cultures, but he wasn't sure what was appropriate here.

Oh well. He'd probably be seen as very nice and not struggling if he did so.
Off to the food section he went. He'd only stolen food once or twice before, and never for himself, but for those that needed to eat and couldn't come by food themselves. He was still aware that if he wanted the food to be edible when he gifted it tomorrow, that he would need it to not be something kept cold. He knew what perishables were now.

He wandered the foodstuffs a bit longer than he would have preferred, avoiding concerned adults when they spotted him. Eventually he wandered away from the shelves and found table displays surrounded by the cold compartments. Fridge units.
Well, he had heard good things about red velvet and cookies, so something that was both would probably be nice. And chocolate chip cookies. And double chocolate… it seemed cookies would be his gift, and lots of them.

He retreated with the flimsy plastic containers to a quiet, empty space and carefully slid them into his pack. He had space, he didn't carry much with himself, and the bag was technically intended for adults. Which he would have been one by now if magic could properly remember how to age.

No matter. That was a problem to consider again later. For now it was fine, he had a friend and he was meeting his family. He had to appear just like other children. He wouldn't be unnoticeable with them, that wasn't an option.
Well technically, he could, but he wouldn't dare to be so cruel. He'd made enough mistakes.

So he left, his presence unnoticed by all, even the strange thief detection devices as he emerged from the building. He didn't go to the drain beneath the bridge, no, he was closer to the house. He was sort of glad Error forgot to consider if he knew where he lived or not. That would have been an awkward question to answer.

Regardless, there was a nice enough abandoned shed three yards from theirs, and he knew it would be safe to use overnight. The human who lived there had no use for the structure, so it stood only slightly dilapidated, the paint peeling and floorboards creaking, but it was still sound. No holes nor leaks, and the inside was cool enough that something sensitive like chocolate would not melt.
He could make it colder anyway.

The night passed on easily enough, though he struggled to sleep. He was thinking too much. One thought led to another led to another and then another and by the time light was seeping in under the door, he was thinking about how he could actually ever manage to bridge magic and people together as he was.

Would he have to simply reveal himself and what he was in order to get anything done? He knew that would make many fear him. He could also not be taken seriously because again, he was still a child. That same fact could lead to him being taken by those looking to cease aging as a possible solution.
He knew why he was ageless, but that wouldn't be enough.

He had seen enough memories of history to know that. They would need to find a way for themselves, yet magic could never trust individuals so greedy to gift them such in the first place.
Humanity was a beautiful thing, but it couldn't be trusted. Mortals were well aware of their own danger. Nix had been made painfully aware of that fact many times over now.

He sighed when it came close to the time, sitting up and changing into the new clothes, folding up the other new set to carry with him under his shirt. He used them as a cushion for the stacks of cookies, sitting up straight as he did his laces. New clothes always felt smooth, though shoes tended to feel off. He'd heard that such things were normal with shoes, they needed to be "broken in" to be comfortable.

Finally, with a few minutes to spare, he discreetly left the shed, setting his pack against the back where it would not be seen and making his way out, new pillow thing clutched close like he'd seen other children do.

He then waited in front of the door for the last few minutes, ringing the doorbell the moment the watch hit the time. He waited about another minute before the door opened to that pink haired lady again, hazel eyes blinking in surprise at him. He tried to smile, but hesitated. He'd never presented himself to an adult before. Especially a parent.
"Oh. You must be Nix. Come on in, sweetie." She opened the door wider with a smile, though he could see the concern in her eyes as she glanced at the street.

He entered, regarding the room he'd stepped into while remaining aware of the woman closing the door. "Did your parents drop you off or something? I hoped to meet them."
He didn't tell her how she was several thousand years too late.
"Couldn't stay." He answered ambiguously instead, before lighting up as he realized he could bring out the gifts.

He tucked the pillow under one arm and pulled out the cookies, finally presenting them.
"I brought gifts!" He exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
"Thank you for letting me visit!"
"Oh honey, you didn't have to.." She trailed, taking the cookies in surprise.
"That's a lot of sweets."

After a moment, she shifted and addressed him. "I'll give this to you boys during lunch, but for now, Error's waiting in the living room. You can play a few games. Be good." She smiled, pointing.
He hesitated, then decided he'd done well enough and followed where she'd indicated.

Sure enough, Error was seated in a couch, kicking as he held a device tightly, pressing buttons and rotating switches as he stared intently at a screen. Nix could hardly grasp what was happening on the screen, only that it was violent. Different figures were fighting on a platform. They were all vague and lacked details.

One of them was picked up by another, Error hissing furiously under his breath as he started pressing buttons more frantically, tensing up as what Nix figured was his character to the edge.
Error yelled as it went over the edge, slapping the controller down on the couch beside him.
"I was so close!"
"You were?"

Error jolted at his voice, spinning to look at him in a mix of irritation and alarm before he recognized him, lighting up. "Nix! You actually came??!"
"I said I would." He pointed out, and Error scoffed, slapping the side of the couch below the seat. Nix sat on the floor beside him. Error reached over the side, then plopped another controller in his lap.
"You need to play Gang Beasts." He stated seriously.

"I have no idea how." Nix reminded. "You'll funking learn." He gave no reaction to the strange bit of magic that twisted the word, though he paused when he saw Nix hesitate.
"... That's Fresh. He just does that." He explained before things started moving rapidly on the screen.
"There. Tutorial."

That seemed to kick off several minutes of just trying to learn how to operate it. Nix was a little embarrassed, but Error somehow made it amusing again as he idly mocked him. The harsh words lacked the usual cruelty they were used with, and that made them funny as Error made fun of him, even going so far as to call him too old.

Eventually Nix commented that he'd brought cookies with him.
"Where the heck did you get cookies? A dumpster?"
"No, I can enter stores just fine."
"You don't have money."
"Don't you remember that I'm unnoticeable?" He finally regarded Error with a smirk.
The child's red sockets soon widened with realization. "You stole them?!" He whispered shrilly.

"I have to get clothes and such somehow." Nix reminded, slowly trying out the odd game.
"And I know what places will miss them the least."
"I know you can like, make grown-ups ignore you or whatever, but how does that work for cameras? You know about cameras, right?"
"I do. And I do something else for those."
"Like what??"
"I make them stop seeing."

There was a pause.
"Well that's creepy as funk."
Nix only grinned, spotting another child standing in the doorway to his side, watching with blank eyes. He felt him more than saw him, how magic was unintentionally blocking something inside. It disrupted his whole energy. Maybe Nix could unblock that. Should he?

Too late, he was distracted as his character was punched in the face and fell limp.
"Oh. Uh oh." He noted, waiting for it to respond as it was dragged to the side.
It came alive at the last second, thrashing inelegantly and too late to escape the pit.
"Shed." He swore. He knew he'd picked up the habit from Error, but it was too funny when the other whined at him copying his potty mouth. It was funny that he cared. Though the slight surge of magic as he spoke to alter what was heard was also intriguing.

He tried again, now on a tower with a l- a lighthouse, it was a lighthouse. He started running from the others, amused at the fumbling characters as they wobbled and swayed. As he played, Error straightened on the couch with a scoff.
"What do you want, you little parasite?"
"I'm just watchin'." Was the casual response from the blank faced child in the doorway.

"Yeah, well you're distracting us. Go away." Error snapped. Nix just watched as his character grappled another as both fell off the tower.
"I just thought he was interesting." Fresh remarked.
"And I don't want you bothering us!"
Nix didn't interrupt, watching the final two characters throw each other around the platform.

"See, you made him lose!" Error took notice of the screen, waving at it angrily.
"He didn't seem to notice I was here before."
"You-" "I knew before you did, Error." Nix finally interrupted, turning to regard his unusually angry friend. Not that it meant much, Error already had a temper.
"I don't mind his presence."
"You know he doesn't care, right?" Error questioned.

"He wants to." Nix stated simply, nodding to Fresh, who was still in the doorway.
"He sort of does care. If he truly didn't care, why would he waste energy in being kind? He could simply ignore you and leave every time he sees you. But he doesn't. He's trying to be normal. Just because he isn't as skilled at that as I am doesn't mean you should hate him for not feeling as you do."
"You're not an emotionless freak like him."

Magic twisted in annoyance as Nix faced him with a blank face. "But I'm not as different from him as you think. I'm just acting normal."
"Why are you trying to tell me how to funking treat him, anyway?!" Error tossed his controller to the side in frustration.
"Because I care." Nix explained blandly, uncaring of the slightly distressed look the other was giving him.
"If he can't care for what you say to him, then aren't you hurting literally everyone else who cares for both of you instead? It's mean. I don't like seeing you so angry for silly things like this anyway."

Error glared at him for that, unable to think of a retort to justify himself. For a long moment, glowing sockets held glowing sockets.
Then Error snarled, shoving off the couch and storming up the stairs. Nix rose to his feet, feeling afraid again as a door slammed.
Why did he react like that? Didn't he see what he was doing? Why did Error get angry at him?
Did. Did he mess up?