#docsans

The room was still. There was no breeze, no sound, and no darkness. Every part of the room was lit with a dim light overhead, erasing the shadows from all of the objects. There was only a wooden chair to the left of the room which was accompanied with a small desk by its side. In front of this chair was a maroon sofa. A rectangular carpet with a pine tree design laid between the furniture.

There wasn't much to observe. In fact, the tan walls of the room were quite barren. Occasionally, there were small papers with green and brown designs hung across the room. There was a small billboard above the desk with a few drawings on them. The door was darker than all the browns in the area. It reflected off the yellow-tinted light. The lights themselves were small lightbulbs hung by a single chain on the ceiling. The air would've been heavy and filled with stench if it wasn't for the air conditioner in the corner.

The dark brown door opened as Ink stepped inside. His eyes lit with curiosity as he observed the room. He wasn't sure why he needed therapy. Heck, he didn't even remember how he got there. Why was he here again?

He checked the notes on his scarf. He tried to make out what he wrote. Ah, there it was. He had gone to therapy because _____ told him to go. He couldn't make out the smudged word of who told him to come here. However, Ink trusted whoever it was; he wouldn't have written it down if the person wasn't someone he trusted.

Or did Error tell him to go to therapy as an insult and he wanted to remember it?

Ink patted himself down when he forgot what he was thinking about. Where was his sketchbook? Did he leave it in the doodle sphere again? He didn't like being bored and had no intention to stay bored. He would've started to draw on the billboard, but he couldn't find the right markers to do so.

The room reminded the guardian of the Anti-Void. He didn't care for big open spaces. He wanted to fill such empty expanses with light, color, and beauty. At least, that's what he wanted to do if he drank his vials.

To his relief, it wasn't completely barren. However, the walls were lacking any decoration. Maybe it was to keep people from being distracted, or it was a new office and it hadn't been decorated yet.

No matter! Ink loved making decorations. He could assist with drawing the pictures and hanging them up! This place would look more vibrant in no time. All he needed was his brush...

His brush that he left outside the office.

Why did he leave it out there again? Ink checked his scarf again. Something about it being too big and whacking things... As well as covering the area in paint...

He eyes glanced back down to the notes he previously read. Someone had told him to go to therapy after he burned down an AU.

Wait... I did WHAT?!

"Good afternoon," an unfamiliar voice said softly behind him. "I apologize for being late. Please, take a seat."

Ink spun around to find a skeleton he had never seen before. He was a variation of Sans like himself. He had large eyes and a genuine smile. Green glasses rested on his non-existent nose; Ink noticed they were taped to the side of his head. Ink could tell he was tired, but not the sleepy kind of tired. It was more the-past-week-has-felt-like-one-giant-day tired.

Ink loved the soft colors that bounced off the skeleton's attire. He wore an off-white wool cardigan and dark brown gloves. His green turtleneck shirt complimented his glasses. The blue shorts on his legs possessed green stripes and visually led onlookers down to his pink slippers. His small hands held a clipboard and a pen made from a small bone. Although Ink saw that he was more expressive than Classic, he could tell the skeleton's shoulders were tense despite his fatigue.

"Hello!" Ink greeted, waving his hand before extending it. "I'm Ink! It's nice to meet you, what's your name?"

"You can call me Doc, Ink," Doc shook Ink's hand before signaling for him to sit down. "Tell me a bit about yourself. I heard that you love art."

"Who told you that? Because loving art is a total understatement," Ink adjusted his clothes as he sat down on the sofa. "I adore it! It's one of the best things in the world! In fact, I wouldn't be here without art! Creativity is a beautiful thing that should inspire others and be shared!"

"Indeed it should," Doc nodded as he wrote something down on his clipboard. "What else do you like to do?"

"Well, I love to inspire others. When I'm not battling Error or chilling with Dream and Swap, I adore going to different AUs and observing people's creations! Sometimes I talk with the creators of the AUs themselves to help them out. Like one time I inspired my friend named XGaster..." Ink trailed off, glancing at the billboard with the small green and brown drawing. "What were we talking about again?"

Doc scribbled more things on his paper before giving a warm smile. "I'm asking some ice-breaker questions before we get started on your therapy," he answered. "I'm here to help you with your problems."

"What problems?" Colorful question marks glimmered in Ink's eyes. Why was it so hard to remember simple things today? He knew his memory was bad, but surely it wasn't always this bad. Is it getting worse? Ink asked himself in his head.

The therapist stared at Ink for a long time. To Ink's surprise, he didn't find the silence uncomfortable. He was perfectly content with the skeleton staring at him and not saying anything at all. Had it been anyone else, Ink would've started to become nervous.

"I have an idea," Doc set his clipboard down. "Why don't we draw something to hang up on my walls? I would love to display some of your art here. Plus, while we are drawing, you can tell me what's been happening in your life recently."

"Oh that would be great!" Joy surged through Ink's mind. "I was going to comment about the emptiness of the room. I wondered why it was so barren."

"This office is new, so I haven't had much time to hang things up yet," Doc answered before he informed Ink he would return with art supplies.

When the therapist returned, Ink wasted no time, grabbing the acrylic paints as quickly as he could. He had so many ideas on what he wanted to draw. He eventually decided he was going to draw a pine forest to match the aesthetic of the room. Doc sat his clipboard by his side as he watched Ink's brush fly across the paper.

Doc didn't even have to ask any questions. Ink started to ramble about his day... At least what he could remember of it. He talked about having tea with Dream and Swap before mentioning his battle with Error. He went on and on about how beautiful OuterTale was before he lost his train of thought.

Doc listened intently, drawing a cliffed landscape and taking notes. "You mentioned Dream and Swap, are these your friends?"

"Oh yeah. We are the Star Sanses. We fight for the AUs and their happiness. We work together a lot," Ink stroked the brown paint on the trunks of his trees. "Although we've been separating lately."

"How does that make you feel?"

Ink glanced away from his art up at the therapist. What an odd question; no one had asked him that before. He started to twitch with his fingers before replying. "I don't know how to answer that question, Doc. I don't really feel anything about it." He glanced down at his vials. "I don't have emotions. I'm given emotions through these vials, but they're fake. Nothing that I feel is actually real. I don't have a soul to feel things."

"I see," Doc picked up his pen and wrote it down on his paper.

"Me and Dream have different motives and intentions for the AUs sometimes. Swap wanted to go home and assist his brother more. I spend most of my time bugging Error about his love for chocolate and the truce he forced me to accept. Although we both kinda broke that recently."

"Tell me more about Error."

Ink told the Doc all that he could recall about the glitched skeleton. He described how they met, how they became enemies, and how the truce was agreed upon. He backtracked to find moments with Error and memorable fights between them. Ink tried to explain to Doc how Error was the only skeleton who could understand him, and yet they were complete opposites, driving them apart.

About an hour had passed. The therapist listened to the guardian closely, however, he stopped Ink when black tears started to run down his face. Ink had gotten emotional when he recalled how Error destroyed most if not all the AUs.

"I... I didn't feel anything at the time," Ink wiped his face. He glanced in confusion at his fingers. Am I crying? "I didn't drink my vials so I felt nothing when Error destroyed the multiverse. But now... It hurts to even think about."

The Doc sat his drawing aside and picked up his clipboard. "Why do you think that is?"

Ink's tears fell onto his drawing. They covered the trees in various patches. He wondered how he could incorporate them into his forest drawing. "I guess... Because I love the AUs and their creativity. I wouldn't want anyone's inspiration to be crushed. I wouldn't want to harm an AU..." He glanced at his scarf. "It says on my scarf I came here because I burned down an AU though..."

"What do you think about that?"

"It doesn't help my reputation..." Ink wiped his face again. "I'm portrayed as a villain now. A lot of people don't like me after certain actions-" He wiped his face again. He didn't like crying. He didn't even know why he was crying, let alone in front of a Sans he didn't know. He didn't feel sad on the inside, but it was as if something inside him had shattered. Did he regret his actions? Was he mourning for the loss of the AUs? Was all the talk about him being a murderous psychopath with no emotions getting to him? He couldn't say. His emotions were confusing as they were. If he couldn't figure himself out, how could Doc Sans figure him out?

"This is good for you to acknowledge all of this," Doc Sans broke his thoughts. His voice was soothing and slow. "There's a lot to unpack here. I would love to meet with you on a regular basis so we can work through all this. Can you meet the same time next week?"

The tears had stopped flowing from the guardians eyes. "Time is a little hard for me to grasp since I love outside of it."

"Oh, yes of course," the therapist replied. "In that case, I'll talk with the office to find a way to signal you to come back when it's time. But might I reassure you in one thing today?"

Ink shrugged. "Go for it."

"You don't just drink one of your vials, right? You drink all of them at once."

Ink glanced down at his paint vials. They glowed with intensity according to their designated color. All of them were nearly empty. "Yeah, I drink all of them."

"So that means you feel all the emotions and they can alternate your mood depending on the situation. I wouldn't call your emotions fake. You're not forcing yourself to drink one vial to feel that way. You drink all of them at once, making your emotions as real as anyone else's; constantly present."

"Really?" Ink exclaimed before he vomited a bunch of ink from his mouth. He stared blankly at the Doc before looking back at his drawing. Whew, the ink missed his paper entirely.

"I'll uh... call someone to come clean that up," the smile on the therapist's face faded. He glanced over at Ink's drawing. "You're very talented, Ink. Can I hang that on my wall?"

Ink nodded. Doc knelt down and picked up the drawing. The smile returned to his face. "Look at these black streaks across the trees that you made with your tears."

Ink was quite proud of how we wove his tears into his art. They created shadows across the forest and shade between the leaves. There were millions of shades of greens and browns in the pine forest that he drew. The painting would look lovely under the dim lights of the office.

"That's what we are going to do with everything you've bottled up," Doc explained. "We are going to take that pain and weave it into the beautiful story of your life. No story is complete without suffering. Here's your first lesson, Ink."

For the first time in his life, Ink had nothing to say. He wanted to listen to Doc talk. His fingers twitched as he waited for the therapist to continue.

"Suffering is necessary in our lives. Because without it, the happiest moments of our lives wouldn't be so sweet as they are," he explained. "Our lives will never be perfect. Just like paintings are never perfect. But our lives, like these paintings, aren't supposed to show us perfection. They reflect who we are, and the progress we made."

What an interesting take. It was as if Doc was talking like they had run out of time.

Wait... they had run out of time.

Was the session already over? Ink didn't feel like he spent an entire hour talking. Was that what therapy was? Just talking until stuff comes up?

Ink wasn't sure how to feel about the whole therapy thing. He enjoyed drawing and talking to the new Sans, but it was odd for him to feel things so raw when he recalled memories. He never felt such strong emotions about any memories before, why had it struck him now? What was all of that hidden pain Doc was talking about? Did he really have bottled up pain like all the rest of the Sanses?

He lost his trail of thought, only remembering what the therapist had said Ink grabbed a pen and started to write down what the therapist said on his scarf. "I bet all of that was important, I just don't understand it right now."

Doc chuckled softly. "You'll understand more as we work through your life together. I'll be in touch with you shortly, thank you for coming."

Ink finished writing down what the therapist had said. "Thanks for having me, Doc! I'll see you next time!"

The guardians gaze went from Doc's warm smile to the painting Ink drew within the hour. It wasn't perfect, no, but it reminded Ink about what the therapist had said before he exited the room.