Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Positivity hurts Nightmare. It could… it… unfortunately has the possibility of killing him.

His boys didn't know this.

They only thought it weakened him slightly.

They noticed how his actions were more feeble, movement more slow, needing to stop to catch a breath whenever they encountered Dream, went to a disgustingly high positive AU, and all these other things.

But… they didn't notice it whenever they laughed with each other, snuggled for storytime, enjoyed each other's company. All these small little happy moments. As they grew comfortable with each other. As they found who they were and their place. As they found people to confide in. As they started to help themselves and the people they cared about. As the truce came up. As his boys found love and life elsewhere.

They never noticed how it slowly killed him.

And of course, Nightmare would never say anything to any of them. Mention anything to any of them.

Why would he?

He wouldn't want to worry them. Or ruin their smiles. Cause them harm. And he certainly didn't want to tell them and in turn his boys started purposely shutting down their happiness, only for him.

He wanted only the best for his boys, and if that meant ignoring the pain throughout his entire body as positivity seeps in and slowly yet surely kills him, then so be it.

Chapter Text

Palette was…… he didn’t want to say scared of his Uncle.

But he was absolutely terrified of his Uncle.

Always had this scary look on his face, easy to upset, has a criminal record and multiple body counts, bad negative vibe and aura all around, toxic acid negativity covering his entire body, four giant sharpened tendrils protruding from his back. His Uncle was basically an unstoppable killing machine, easily ticked off, and on a mission to spread negativity across the entire multiverse.

And… he was even told by PJ they were supposed to have another cousin, and it was supposed to be Uncle Nightmare and Uncle Cross’ kid. But…. Something happened to Uncle Cross while he was carrying the souling, causing both to die. PJ said Uncle Nightmare had killed them because he didn’t want a kid. Uncle Nightmare didn’t like kids and he didn’t like them.

So you could say Palette was a bit scared of him.

But there was this one moment that…. kind of opened his eyes to a new side of his uncle.

It was during preparations for a funeral for a god or guardian friend. A…. family friend…. you could say.

And apparently, Gods have different funeral traditions than monsters. Seeing as they’re…. well….. gods…. and not exactly monsters, so they don’t dust.

So here Palette was, folding these… boat things? At least, that was what all his cousins and uncles told him they were.

Palette loved arts and crafts. Coloring, painting, sculpting. And folding these boats were like origami. Though he’s been shown multiple times how to do it, each time he was shown was a different way. And the pressure of it being for a GODS funeral really got to him. He couldn’t focus, he kept messing up and couldn’t get into a groove with it.

He was really having trouble with it.

And somebody seemed to notice.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Palette was startled at the sudden dark presence behind him.

He was quick to spin around in a surprise at the sudden voice, seeing his uncle there, he tried his best to keep his cool as quickly as he could, knowing his Uncle Nightmare could easily and quite literally smell his fear.

“Uh… yeah…. kind of….” Palette mumbled, continuing to fold his boat. He didn’t want to sound too scared or too unsure that his uncle would stick around and make fun of him, but he didn’t want to sound too confident that his uncle would stay and watch him mess up. He tried to find a nice middle between the two, but he ended up sounding a lot more scared than he would’ve liked.

“Mmm.“ The other hummed and nodded before walking off.

Sighing a breath of relief, Palette felt as if he could breathe again, continuing to fold his boat like thing.

But some time later, he, again, flinched, caught off guard as a little shot glass cup was put in front of him. Looking up, he saw none other than his Uncle Nightmare himself and one of his uncles other friends. The tiny cup had not alcohol, but a damp paper towel, hopefully damp with water.

“It’s for folding the paper.” His uncles friend explained. “So you don’t have to lick your finger, you can wet it with that.”

Palette nodded as if he understood, which he didn’t really, he was too scared and too focused on ignoring and acting the right way in front of Uncle Nightmare. His uncles friend nodded in approval at his response and walked off somewhere else, presumably to go talk with some other god or guest here.

But his Uncle Nightmare didn’t walk off with him. Making him nervous. Because now it was just him and a psychopathic murderer stranger that he called uncle.

The only thing left he felt just the slightest bit comfortable doing, was to continue folding his boat.

Folding the paper in half, he made sure to keep the color on the inside. Then fold the crease about a fingers length. Taking the open end and matching it to the top, he tried to get it flush and exact with the crease of the paper.

That’s where his uncle stepped in.

“You know you don’t have to make it perfect, right?” Palette looked at his uncle. He both did and didn’t know that. Because half the people who talked to him said he didn’t have to make it flush, and the other half said he had to make it perfect. So…. He wasn’t really sure what to believe anymore.

After hearing no response, his uncle kneeled beside him and took the paper. “Here, watch.”

Palette watched as this scary fearsome being that used to shake him to his very soul, folded and bent the paper with such care.

His fingers delicate and precise with each movement and crease made. Old hands seeming of practice went step after step with each fold. Lining up the paper to edges with such tenderness, the younger skeleton couldn’t believe these hands that seemed to move with such accuracy and remembrance, as if they had done it a thousand times before, were the same ones that he has been told have killed.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” His uncle explained. “I’m sure you’ve heard about my….. partner, yes?”

All Palette could do was silently nod.

“You probably have heard from that moody teenager, the “mistake” and “abomination” as you’re Uncle Error would put him, though, I would argue he’s grown into a fine young skeleton. Aside from all the angst he chooses to spread.” Uncle Nightmare went on about who Palette would assume was PJ. “But aside from that, you’ve probably heard from him that I… killed….. my partner, no?”

Palette didn’t know how to respond.

Noticing the others silence, the older assumed that he was correct and continued his little anecdote.

“Truth is…… he took his own life.”

Palette was visibly stunned at the phrase.

“I still can’t believe it myself. I…… refuse to believe it myself.” His uncle admitted, grabbing another piece of paper and beginning to fold it, seemingly out of old habit.

“I felt horrible, at the fact that I am the king, guardian, God of negativity, and I overlooked every little detail. Every little sign. Every little moment. Every little lie or excuse. Every little clue he intentionally or unintentionally put out there. Hid from me, wanted me to see, wanted me to forget, wanted me to overlook, wanted me to rethink. Ever single little thing that could’ve led up to this ending, that could have prevented this ending. And I ignored it all.”

“I felt horrible, so horrible, I decided to arrange a funeral, fit for a god, seeing as he was my other half after all.” His uncle continued, grabbing another piece of paper, folding it again, subconsciously. “None of the gods approved, they saw him as a mere pathetic mortal. I decided to make it the biggest grandest funeral in……”

His uncle paused. “…….in his honor.”

“Why do you sound so sad?” Palettes curiosity overtaking his fear.

Again, his uncle paused, making Palette fear he asked a wrong question. “I realized too late he wouldn’t have wanted a big fancy expensive funeral, and I was doing it for my pride more than anything.”

“I felt even worse after that realization and felt as if I was disappointing my love, but after some days, maybe a week or two, I realized that, he wouldn’t want to see me hating myself, and beating myself up for something like this.” His uncle explained. “He wouldn’t want to see me so disappointed because of something that I thought was right, he would want to me to learn and stop and think and not get mad, and instead, try to find a way to make my mistake, a good one.”

“So I continued, and decided instead of a funeral, it would be the biggest thank you, and I love you sign to him. One that everyone, even him, would see and know, it was my love and appreciation to him.”

“So I made boats and objects out of paper and cardboard. Bought thousands of flowers and plants. Burnt and bowed endlessly for days. Until I felt him tell me that it was enough, he noticed, and he loved me too.”

“How could you tell?” Palette dared to ask again.

“When it’s someone you love, you can tell.” His uncle answered simply, smoothing out an edge of the paper he was folding.

“What about….” Palette trialed off, not sure if it was a good idea to ask the question or not.

“Our son?” His uncle finished for him, showing him it was okay to ask him things and questions.

“Y-yeah…” Palette confirmed shyly.

“I knew he had a souling, I could feel it in his shift of demeanor and the feel of his soul, but he couldn’t feel it yet.” His uncle started. “I was waiting for him to tell me since, I wasn’t truly sure at the time. And I wanted to know if he was comfortable enough with me to tell me, and what he wanted to do with it.”

“I’m assuming your uncle Error could sense it in the shift of his soul and code, something was a miss, and I assume he blabbered his mouth to anyone who would listen.” His uncle thought out loud. “Of course, framing me as the bad guy.”

Palette just nodded silently.

“That was another reason why I wanted to make it big and grand.” His uncle Nightmare spoke. “Because it was the loss of two people I loved, not just one. Even if I didn’t know one of them yet.”

“I would’ve liked a son.” His uncle said quietly after a moment. Palette looked at him. “Though, I guess I do have a pretty great nephew.”

Palette and his unclemare continued talking and folding together, talking about family, school, Dream, the funeral, life plans and goals, and other things. It… really showed Palette another side of his uncle Nightmare that, wasn’t so scary. And though some would argue it was him lying and manipulating the younger for his trust, Palette would argue otherwise.

He was the son, a descendant of the guardian of feelings, it wasn’t that easy to lie to him. He could tell the other meant every word of regret and sorrow, as well as happiness and fondness felt as he spoke. Not to mention the small smile and softer eye light that would unconsciously show on his unclemares face whenever talking about his love. Even without feeling powers, you could easily tell this man loved his partner with everything he was, even if his other half was gone now.

And, though the methodically waving tendrils breaking from his back, scowl that rested on his face whenever he walked around, the aura that poured off him and clouded any room he walked into, still intimidated Palette to his very soul.

Whenever they would meet eyes, for just a split second, there was this look of fondness he couldn’t miss. And it changed his uncle Nightmare in his eyes forever. And he was just a little less scared, to call him uncle. To call him family.

Chapter Text

Nightmare hadn’t come to eat with them that day. And the next. They hadn’t seen him in a while. And it was starting to concern them. Cross took it upon himself to check up on the other, seeing as y’know… they were dating and all. Cross was definitely a favorite.

Knocking on the other’s door, he waited for a response.

“Who is it?”

Nightmare’s voice seemed different, though it might've been because there was a door between them.

“Cross.”

“What did you need?”

“Night, we were wondering if you were alright.” Cross responded. “We haven’t seen you in a while and we were starting to get worried. Is everything alright?”

It took a moment before Nightmare responded. “Yes. everything is alright. I’m just feeling a little under the weather, but I will be fine. Tell the others this as well.”

Cross almost wanted to believe this, but there was just something that didn’t seem right. Nightmare would have told them all sooner rather than wait for one of them to come get him. And he still hasn’t shown himself to Cross. Something wasn’t right.

“Night, could I come in?”

“What need do you have to come in?”

“Please Night?” Cross was hoping the other would oblige so he could truly see if everything was alright. If everything was alright, Nightmare wold open the door, and hold him, and tell him everything was alright.

But Nightmare did no such thing, showing that Nightmare was in fact… not alright.

“Nightmare, please open up, come out or something. We’re all starting to get worried.”

There was no response. But before Cross went to go say something else, the door quietly opened just a smidge.

Cross took this as invitation, pushing the door open and walking into the dark room.

“Night…?” Cross asked. Flinching as the door closed behind him, cutting out all the light, leaving him in complete darkness.

“Cross, you know I can sense when you lie.” Cross could fully well hear Nightmares voice and… yup. It was definitely different.

“I wasn’t lying when I said we were all worried about you.” Cross spoke, knowing what Nightmare meant still.

“Night…. Is something wrong?”

“You seemed scared when asking that question.”

“You avoided the question Night.” Cross pointed out.

“You didn’t deny my statement.” Nightmare fought back. “You seemed afraid to ask that question. Why?”

“Night is-“

“Cross I-“

“Nightmare!” Cross spoke in a stern voice, quieting the other. “Apologies for…. Talking back, being authoritarian, commanding you, talking over you-“

“Cross.”

“Disrespecting you.”

“Cross!”

“But my worry for your well being is goes above all those concerns.” Though Cross couldn’t exactly see Nightmare, he could only guess with Nightmares pause, he was taken aback by the statement.

“Cross…”

“So, if you would, would you mind telling me what’s wrong to possibly calm my nerves.”

There was a moment, probably of uncertainty for Nightmare, before Cross heard the other sigh a tired sigh.

“I just can’t win with you can I?” He heard the other talk as the room started to lighten up slowly.

“You know I have a soft spot for you and you used that to your advantage.” Nightmare seemed almost angry as he spoke the words. Almost.

“Mayhaps…” Cross smiled slyly, chuckling to himself.

Cross heard Nightmare mumble something as he held onto the hands that wrapped around his waist from behind him, smiling softly as he felt a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“What’s wrong Night?” Cross asked, leaning back into the other, the room lightening up. The room was still dim, blinds closed, little candles lighting themselves up magically, soft colored lamp lights dimly, but just bright enough to where Cross could see his surroundings, and see that, something was off.

Nightmare liked his room clean and tidy and well kept, so seeing as the room was in slight shambles, it was quite, if not very worrying.

And there was something else that concerned him, the mirror in front of him that was strangely covered by a sheet or cloth of some sorts.

“What is this?” Cross nodded towards the covered mirror.

Nothing in response.

“Nightmare?”

“I hate how I look in this form.” And with that simple sentence Cross understood everything in an instant.

“You’re being self conscious about your looks again?” Cross leaned back, reaching a hand behind Nightmares head, giving the now white boned skeleton a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s more than that.” Nightmare muttered. “When you say it like that it feels…”

“No no… I understand.” He spoke before the other could say anything else. “That was a rude and mean thing to say, and I apologize deeply.”

Cross stopped the other, turning over in his arms, now facing the other, holding the other's face in his own hands, gazing longingly into Nightmares now two violet eyes. “Your eyes are so pretty…” Cross muttered, not really realizing he said it out loud.

That is until he saw Nightmare blush in embarrassment, pushing Cross away and walking away, hugging himself tightly. “Shut up Cross.” Nightmare mumbled, unsure about how he felt.

“Come on. You know it’s true.” Cross smiled at the other.

“Cross please stop.” Nightmare said more clearly, now upset. “You know how I feel about this…” Nightmare seemed to fold in on himself, trying to make himself smaller.

Cross frowned at the words used. Sparing a glance now at the covered mirror, he had an idea.

“Night,” Nightmare turned around to meet eyes with Cross. The monochromatic skeleton had his arms open, a silent way of asking for a hug from the other.

Obliging, making his way to Cross, hugging the other tightly.

“Night, take a look behind you, please?” Ever so slightly, Nightmare turned around to find his eyes caught with his own reflection.

Somehow, Cross had removed the sheet.

Probably with magic.

Immediately looking away, Nightmare muttered “Cross-”

“Please look Night.” Cross interrupted the other. “I know you don’t like it, but please. For me.”

With a lot of hesitation, Nightmare gulped down a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Fear.

He hasn’t felt true fear since…

“Thank you, love.” Cross smiled, leaning his head on Nightmare’s shoulder.

Nightmare couldn’t help but frown , maybe even making a face of….. Almost holding back tears, as he was forced to stare at himself as an old scared, pathetic, sad, pitiful, little boy. Stars he was so pathetic like this, he hated it. He hated it so much.

“Cross what-”

“Could you…. Tell me what you see?” Cross spoke before Nightmare could answer. “How do you see yourself?”

It was a moment before Nightmare answered. “Pathetic.”

Cross frowned at the answer.

“Weak.
Pitiful.
Disgusting.
A true disgrace.
Sad.
Little.
Miserable.
Wretched.
Sorry sack of shit” Nightmare spit out glaring daggers at himself. “Nothing but a poor shameful good for nothing little boy. A no one. A true nobody.”

Cross had to physically hold the other back as he spoke, his voice progressively getting louder and more angrier as he spoke.

“What good is there about this stupid little feeble form?”

“It tells a story.’”

“Story my ass.”

“It's a part of you.”

“That’s the worst thing about this form.”

“I love everything about you.”

“Cross you’re not listening to me.”

“Everything about you I love.”

“Cross you don’t understand. You can’t see-”

“You can’t see what I see.” Cross twisted the others' words against him.

“When I look in that mirror, I see a little soft boy who sure, has gone through hell, may be weak, and small, but is so strong.” Cross wasn’t good with words. He never was. A man of few words because he never really understood how to put feelings and thoughts into words, so this wasn’t really the best way to put it, but he hoped he got his message across either way. “He’s gone through a lot of shit and had to endure so much, and has lived to see today.”

Nightmare looked down, in what was maybe embarrassment? Fear?

“You may hate this form, but no matter what you look like, I’ll always love you. I’ll love everything about you. No matter how bad, you are someone I love and will always love, no matter what. Weak or not. Corruption or not. You are still Nightmare, and I love you, I will always love you, and everything about you.” Cross kissed Nightmare continuously on the cheek, holding the other tightly, reassuringly, lovingly in his arms.

“I hate it. I hate it so much.” Nightmare seemed almost to be choking back sobs, his voice wavering a bit.

“Nightmare, you are-”

“Cross stop.” Nightmare fought his way out of Cross’s grasp, turning around to look at the monochromatic skeleton. “Just….. Stop.” He sighed tiredly. “I know what you’re doing. Or…. trying to do. Just. Stop…. please.”

“Night….. You know I hate when you talk down to yourself. When you talk bad about yourself. Even if it is about this form, I stick by what I said, It’s a part of you and-”

“Cross stop!” Nightmare exclaimed, shutting his eyes tightly, swiftly covering his “ears” with his hands. “You’re not understanding! You don’t get it!”

“Night…..” Cross frowned. Feeling bad that he had upset the other. “I’m sorry I just-” he tried to step towards the other, but stopped as Nightmare took a step back away from him.

“Cross- Stop! Please stop it!” Nightmare turned around, away from Cross, but he dared not open his eyes in fear of his reflection he knew was right before him.

“Night I’m sorry, I really am, I love you and I love your body and I don’t want to see you hurt like this, I don’t understand why-“

“No Cross! You don’t understand! You don’t get it." Nightmare sounded literally on the verge of tears. “I thought out of anyone you would understand. But no. You don’t understand. You don’t understand anything.”

“Of course I don’t understand Nightmare, but I’ll always try to-“

“No No- you don’t understand!” Nightmare tried explaining, shaking his head and taking more steps back before hitting the mirror.

“Nightmare-“

“Cross if I were to romanticize your female body, would you be happy?!” He finally snapped.

Cross had done it now. Nightmare was always careful and respectful whenever bringing up Cross’s transition or talking about his past, but when he was really upset with the smaller, he would pull that card and it always cut Cross deep.

Nightmare knew how he felt about his dead self, so to even bring it up let alone compare himself to it was a bold move.

“No. No you wouldn’t. Because you aren’t that. You are not that…. Little girl. You aren’t a girl. You don’t identify with that body it doesn’t define you and who you are, and someone who denies that you would consider transphobic! Well it’s the same exact situation. That old, weak, dead part of me is not me. Not who I am. I don’t identify with it, It doesn’t define me, and you trying to romanticize it, talking about all the good things it is and trying to connect me back with it is as if someone tried to romanticize your dead self.”

Turning away from Cross, he faced the mirror, staring at the body he hated with all his soul. Death glaring it, almost as if the body itself had feelings he could hurt. “I am not that little weak disrespected hated bullied mistake. Not anymore. I am better stronger someone who I am actually proud of. Someone who is respected and feared. Someone who I can stand to look in the mirror at. Smile at. Be proud that I built this up. Controlled it. Wear it well. Be proud. Be actually proud of who I am- happy about who I am Cross- back then, when I was that little sad boy hating myself, hating everything, and blaming myself endlessly, I never thought, I never could have fathomed ever being proud of who I am. Happy for who I am. Accept what I stand for and protect. Never ever did I ever think I would get here. But because of this, because of who I am now, because of what I became, I can actually be content with who I am.”

“Your looks-“

“Your looks shouldn’t matter so why did you get surgery?”

Cross winced. Another wound Nightmare knew very well he was making.

“I’m sorry I’m bringing it up, but it’s the same feeling every time you force me to look at my dead self come back, because no surgery can fix this, not even all those damned magic fucking apples could stop it, and force me to listen to you try to make me feel better about this dead dying part of myself that I hate. That I absolutely hate. I hate it. I hate who I am! I hate who I was! I hate that deep down I will always just be this!”

Nightmare exclaimed, punching the mirror, erasing, killing the pathetic little boy that stared back at him, reminding him that he will never be anything more than that. He can pretend all he wanted. He can try as much magic as he could, but in the end… this was who he was. And nothing could get rid of it.

“Nightmare…”

“Cross just….. Please stop.” Nightmare seemed to sob out. “I love you and I thank you but I just- not like this. Not because of this. I can't- just- I no- please no-” Nightmare couldn’t help his uneven breath, couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, couldn’t help his voice from wavering. His mind wandered and he couldn’t calm his thoughts and worries.

Nightmare had rubbed salt in a wound he knew Cross was sensitive about.

Did he feel bad about it? Maybe a little.
But could he take it back? No.

Sighing, he looked down, kicking around the glass shards. He wrapped his arms around himself, leaning against the now broke mirror.

He had to try to get himself to stop shaking.

“Nightmare, take a deep breath for me please.” Nightmare wanted to snap back a response, but that was a sign that he was taking things too far. Cross was sorry and he was scared for the other now. Genuinely worried about him.

He needed to try and calm down.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing, slowly moving his hands away from his skull, instead his arms now wrapped around himself, his fingers nervously fidgeting.

Almost hesitantly, his eyes blinked open, fearfully holding Cross’s gaze in his own.

Cross made his way over to Nightmare before bringing him into a warm hug. It was….. Annoyingly so nice.

“Breathe Night. Breathe.” Nightmare tried his best to steady his breathing, Cross exaggerating his own breathing being very helpful.

“Please don't try to romanticize this part of me.” Nightmare said after awhile. He sounded so hurt. So small. Cross hugged him tighter, rubbing the it hers arm reassuringly. “I know you think that might be what I need to hear, but it’s not. Thank you for trying, really, but it’s just not what I need. It won’t make this better.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just….” Cross struggled to find his words. “I just hate it when you talk down about yourself. I hate it when you say all these horrible negative things about yourself. And I get it will take time to get over it, but I can’t just sit back and watch it happen. I can't simply do nothing when I see you getting hurt whether that be by somebody else or yourself.”

“I understand that Cross,” Nightmare started, trying to gather himself. “But I didn’t bring you here, I didn’t ask for you to be in my life to fix all my problems, carry all my weight and your own, be my hero, knight in shining armor, so please don’t feel like you need to be, because you don't, you can’t fix all my broken baggage no matter how hard you try, and you don’t need to. That’s my deal of cards to unfold, and thank you for trying to help, but I’m strong too. I can deal with things on my own too. You make sure I’m safe, but I make sure you’re safe too. Because I love you. And I know you love me."

"I'm sorry Nightmare."

"I know you are Cross, it's okay I forgive you. You have nothing to be sorry about anymore."

"I do-"

"You did, not anymore. I forgave you and it's all better now."

"...... I love you."

"I love you too."

“……I’m still sorry-“

“Shut up Cross.”

“Did you want me to give you some space?”

“No.” Nightmare shook his head. “Please no.”

“I don’t want to be afraid of this.” Nightmare looked away. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m right here.” Cross leaned his head against Nightmare, nuzzling him a little.

“Please stay there.”

“You can count on me.” Cross smiled softly. “I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

Chapter Text

Foolish.

That’s what he was

Foolish for letting himself believe it would last forever.

He wasn’t immortal and he was a great guardian and protector of the Tree of Feelings, a descendant of the powerful, creator, and guardian Nim. Why would he expect them to be immortal when they were just mere monsters.

How could he let himself believe it would be the same forever? They’d be in his life forever?

He was foolish. He was an idiot for thinking like that.

He’s lived for centuries, he’s seen thousands of people come and go. Some part of his life, others not so much. It always meant nothing to him. Watching the light leave someone’s eyes, turn to nothing but dust, blood spill and pour. It always unfazed him.

He’s frozen his brother in stone, never planning on him being left out for all eternity.

So this shouldn’t hurt.

This shouldn’t hurt.

He’s seen wars, plagues, massacres, everything and more.

Never once did it make him feel like this.

Like regret, and grief, and pain. Feelings he wasn’t sure there were words for.

Why?

Why did he feel like this?

What made these mere mortals any different from everyone else?

He cared about them, that’s why.

Why did he allow himself to get attached to these pathetic empty souls? They weren’t supposed to be anything more than vassals, henchmen, minions, underlings. They were suppose to be nothing to him.

So why were they now everything to him?

This shouldn’t hurt as much as it did.

He’s witnessed so much in his lifetime, and yet this was what caused him to break. To crack. To cry.

How pathetic.

Foolish.

He was truly foolish.

For believing it could never end. It’d be the same as it always was. They could live forever.

Death has never hurt so much.

Never has he felt something for the death of someone else.

It was weird.
It was horrible.
It hurt.
It was painful.
He hated it.
He hated that he got attached.
He was foolish for doing so.
For letting them in.

It wouldn’t have hurt if he just kept them at arms length.

But he would’ve hated himself for not getting to know them.

Even when he let them in, he felt like he barely knew them. And he hates himself for everything he did and didn’t do.

Especially now that they’re gone. And he can’t do anything to get them back. Can’t do anything to change the past. Can’t do anything to make it so he doesn’t regret every little thing he did.

Perhaps he grew used to seeing them everyday. Every morning, there they were in the kitchen, in the living room, training, in the infirmary, in his house. In their home.

He must’ve gotten so used to seeing them every day of every week of every month of every year, he just assumed that’s how things were now. Why would things all of a sudden change now?

Foolish.

That’s all he was.

He grew to comfortable. He grew to attached. He became too dependent.

These silly little mortals that could snap with a slice of a child’s knife.

He was foolish idiot for letting himself believe it could never end.

Chapter Text

A movie night.

That's what was currently happening.

They were watching a really bad horror murder mystery movie and absolutely shitting on it, making fun of it, mocking it, laughing at it. It was so obvious who the murderer was, the characters made dumb decisions, the story was weak, the acting was poor, the camera angles were awkward, the music was so dramatic and over the top.

It was just so silly.

And the bad guys were having fun teasing it and yelling at it. Joking about it and each other.

It was no surprise that their little movie night turned into a giant pillow fight.

Spilling drinks, popcorn, candy as they hit each other with pillows, laughing till they're stomached hurt. Trapping each other in blankets, smiling their cheeks were sore. Laying on one another on the couch and tickle fights until the movie was completely forgotten and everything was a mess.

But they didn't care, because they were too busy beating the shit out of each other continuously over and over again, pissing themselves laughing, smiling wide, echoes of their silly little fight bouncing through the castle.

Safe to say, tonight was a good night.

Even if it hurt him, it was nice knowing the others were having fun.

As things calmed down, Nightmare felt queasy, sick, weak at the overwhelming positivity still lingering in the air as they all laid on the floor or across couches, occasionally here and there a giggle or chuckle was heard still from one of the bad guys.

"Once you all have collected yourselves, clean up the popcorn. We'll clean the drinks tomorrow morning, I assume all of you are ready to go to sleep?" Nightmare took charge, seeing them all close their eyes and lay there for a while, feeling dozy.

He rolled his eye as Killer groaned, rolling away, turning so his back faced the guardian. "C'mon, why can't we just clean up later?" He whined.

"I suppose...." Nightmare caved. "Well then, gather everything up and head to my room. I'll make some tea while you set everything up and we can stay there until you all fall asleep."

He heard a hum and murmur of agreement and he watched everyone get up and gather blankets and other things before he nodded satisfied and started walking to the kitchen.

He put on the kettle and waited while he heard all of them go up and the stairs and shuffle into his room.

Once he was certain they would not be able to hear him, he collapsed, leaning and putting his full weight on the counter, gasping for breath.

The positivity was suffocating and it was hard to stand and hold himself up.

He stopped for a minute to catch his breath, eyeing the kettle. He tried to focus on the way the burner became a glowing red as he tried to detect any sort of negativity to fuel him.

It didn't come.

Until....

"Nightmare?"

Fuck.

——————————————————

"I'll go help him with the tea." Cross spoke, heading towards the door.

"I'm sure he's fine." Dust waved the other off.

"Besides, if anyone knows how to make tea, it would be Nightmare." Killer pointed out.

Horror just nodded.

"Yeah, but still." Cross insisted. "Either way, I wanna make myself some hot chocolate."

"Fine. We'll be here, being gay lil' shits, waiting for y'all." Killer spoke, laying back down on Nightmares bed.

"Mhmm." Cross hummed, half listening as he made his way downstairs.

Nearing the kitchen, he frowned as he saw Nightmare leaning against the counter, struggling to breathe, seemingly focused and thinking hard about something and..... in pain??? Not standing ominously, looking hot and mysteriously out the window.

He walked in cautiously. He hadn't even noticed Cross come in at this point. Something was wrong.

"Nightmare?"

Nightmares head whipped around to meet his eyes. The others were wide and surprised. He immediately tried straightening himself in the most casual way possible.

"Oh, Cross, Biscuit, what are you doing here?" Nightmare asked sounding...... shocked. In an attempted normal way but..... something felt off about it.

"I-oh... I just wanted to.... Um....." Cross trailed off, not knowing how to feel and what to say right now.

"Oh, Cross, do not fret. I have not forgotten you prefer hot chocolate over tea, don't worry love." Nightmare gave him a warm smile. In any other circumstance, it would've been comforting. But right now.... He was skeptical of how true it was.

"Nightmare, are you.... are you alright Nightmare?" Cross asked, concerned.

"I am alright Cross, do not worry." Nightmare gave him another comforting smile, a look of care and sweetness induced with it. But Cross wasn't having it, there was definitely something going on with Nightmare.

"What's up Night?" He asked, taking a seat at the counter, looking at Nightmare. "Is something wrong or bothering you?"

"Do not worry Cross. Everything's alright." Nightmare again insisted. He didn't really want nor knew how he was going to explain everything to Cross.

"Nightmare, please be honest with me." Nightmare could feel not just concern and worry. But.... fear?

Was..... Cross scared?

"I'm..... really alright Cross. Please don't worry about me. I'm okay." Nightmare lied through his teeth. "There is no need to fear my little spoon. Come here."

Nightmare opened his arms, bringing Cross into a reassuring hug. He held him close, feeling negative aura deep out of him.

It was horrible.

Feeling the others worry and fear, and feeding off it. Feeding off it to strengthen himself. Strengthening himself from the pain they felt.

It was sickening. He didn't want it to be like this.

But it was.

And as they brought tea and hot chocolate up to the rest of the team, he again hit with an overwhelming wave of positivity, and it was hard to keep his composure.

After squabbles and making fun of each other, laughing and teasing, pillow fights and fort making, they all snuggled up together, dozing off under the covers and fairy lights of their blanket fort.

Nightmare had just finished his story telling, and Dust and Horror were basically asleep, Killer fighting the sleepiness as he lay on Cross's chest, wrapped in the monochromatic skeletons arms.

"Alright, I believe it's time for bed then." Nightmare smiled, using his tendrils to pick up all their mugs, reminisces of tea swirling around.

"Nooooooo!" Killer whined like a child.

"Yes." Nightmare smiled, shaking his head.

"But I don't wanna!" Killer, again, spoke in an upset child like manner.

"Killer, love, you are literally yawning right now, with your eyes closed, basically sleeping on Cross." Nightmare pointed out, laughing and smiling slightly.

"Fine." Killer said through a yawn. "But you gotta stay with us though!!! Don't do your whole mysterious disappearing okay! I want to fall asleep in your arms." Killer spoke, making Nightmare frown slightly. He had his reasons for his "whole mysterious disappearing" thing.

"Little spoon." He decided to tease instead.

"I mean- I want to fall asleep with you in my arms! I am very tough and scary and intimidating and-"

Nightmare gripped Killers jaw, kissing him passionately.

After a moment, he pulled away, Killer panting under his hold, staring into each others eyes for a moment, before Nightmare gave Killer a soft warm smile, and spoke.

"You have until I come back after bringing these mugs to the kitchen." Nightmares voice was smooth and sultry, Killer immediately following orders.

"Don't enjoy yourselves too much, I'll bring down the mugs, I'll be back soon." Nightmare walked out the door, and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Killer and Cross watched Nightmare leave, before Cross gently pushed Killer off his lap.

"I'll go with him." Cross said, getting up.

"Like a lost little puppy~" Killer teased. "Obedient little soldier~"

"Don't." Cross snapped. It was a.... kind of sensitive topic for him. Being referred to as a mindless puppet, being controlled and commanded by everyone else around him. Even though that wasn't what they'd mean, sometimes that's what it felt like.

Moving on, Killer persisted to tease Cross.

"Aw come on, why else would you be following Nightmare with your tail between your legs-"

"Killer shut up." Cross growled, not surprisingly not finding this situation funny, and serious.

"I just.... want to check up on him...." Cross trailed off, looking to the side.

Killers demeanor switched. "Is something up with Mooncake?"

"I..... don't know...." Cross spoke truthfully. Nightmare never official said if anything was wrong, but Cross was certain something was up.

"Keep an eye out for these two, alright?" Cross asked, looking back to Killer. "I'll see if there's anything up with Nightmare."

Killer just nodded a he watched Cross leave the room.

——————————————————

Nightmare collapsed onto the floor, leaning onto one of the nearby cabinets, clutching his chest.

He felt like crying, it hurt so bad, and truthfully, he wouldn't be able to honestly say he didn't cry in that moment.

It was a horrible aching pain. It felt like he was going to die. It felt like he was dying.

It was like being hit by Dreams positivity arrows a thousand times. There was so much of it. So much positivity surrounding him. Surrounding this castle.

Fuck.

All his boys had a nice time. He had a nice time. They were so happy. They were all so happy. It was so perfect. Why couldn't it be perfect like that?

He was struggling to breathe, even stand up, it hurt him, and it weakened him. He couldn't even fight back. He didn't have the strength.

He tried, for any hopeless attempt to feel any sort of negativity. But he knew there wouldn't be any. Not after a night like this.

This is how they always ended. For him anyway.

Curled up in a corner, wishing and hoping and begging for the positivity to die down, and try sense any sort of negativity, hopefully not from his boys.

He couldn't do that to them. Cause them harm and grief and sadness and negativity just to feed him. Strengthen him. He couldn't do that. He just couldn't.

He was about to give up the search for negativity, and accept defeat, when he felt it.

"Nightmare?"

Well this felt familiar.

Nightmare knew it was Cross. And honestly, a part of him wasn't surprised that he had followed him. He had just been so distracted by everything else, he didn't really think that anyone would follow him.

Stupid move.

Cross rushed to his side, helping Nightmare up.

Cross's worry and fear and concern and panic and just, overall negativity, helped Nightmare stand up, and hold himself up with a little support from Cross.

"Nightmare, what's wrong?" Cross asked again. "Please tell me what's wrong, I don't like seeing you like this."

"Cross it's nothing. Honestly, you don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. I've just been feeling...... a little off today." Nightmare tried to scramble for excuses. But he couldn't find one for literally dying on the floor.

"Nightmare, you look sick, and weak, and tired, and and..... and you can barely hold yourself up without my help or leaning on something and, and you were on the floor and and- and for fucks sake Night I thought you were dying!" Cross admitted, exclaiming and gripping onto Nightmares shoulders, burying his face in the others chest, holding him tightly.

"Cross, please, love, I'm alright." Nightmare smiled, holding Cross back. "I'm not..."

Nightmare paused for a moment. "I'm not dying." He gave the other a dry laugh.

Cross frowned. Looking up at Nightmare with misty eyes, he put the pieces together.

"It's the positivity, isn't it?" Cross asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

"No Cross it-"

"Nightmare, please don't lie to me." Cross gripped Nightmares hands in his own.

Nightmare looked at Cross. He had been caught. He couldn't do or say anything else to convince Cross, he knew that for a fact.

"Nightmare....." Cross put a hand on Nightmares cheek, looking solemnly at the other. "Does our positivity..... hurt you?"

The other didn't say anything.

"Oh, Nightmare.... If we would've known we would've-"

"You would've what?" Nightmare cut him off. "You would've purposeful got sadder, not be as happy and positive? Stop being happy? Continue to stay in the horrible state, forever hating yourself and always seeing the worst in life? Just for me?"

"Cross, I would kill myself if that happened. I would rather just die like this instead of you all suffering and-" Nightmare realized what he had just admitted.

They didn't know it could kill him. Positivity could kill him. They only knew that it weakened him but.... it could kill him...?

"Nightmare," Cross spoke carefully and slowly. "Are you..... dying?"

"Are we...... killing you...?"

"What- No No! No of course not, why would that even-"

"Nightmare, lying." Cross eyed Nightmare, he wasn't buying it.

Nightmare just stared at Cross, before sighing.

"What does it matter anyway?" Nightmare looked down. "This way, you're all happy. You're all getting better. You're all-

"NIGHT YOU'RE DYING FOR FUCKS SAKE!" Cross screamed, gripping Nightmares shoulder, pressing him harshly against the counter unintentionally.

"HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU SAY WE'RE HAPPY WHEN YOU'RE FUCKING DYING!?" Cross shut his eyes, trying to hold back tears.

"Night, you're our fucking everything." Cross admitted, feeling some slip. "You were our light in the darkest times in all of our lives. You showed us the way when we were lost. You gave us a home when we destroyed our own. You held us and made us believe we were okay. You helped us to see that we had every right to feel bad and do what we had to do. Do what felt right to us at the time. Showed us parts of ourselves we didn't even know. We felt safe here. And we didn't feel safe here because of the thick walls and dangerous aura. Any of the food or comforting blankets."

"It was because you were there." Cross's grip on Nightmare loosened, sniffling. "You are like family to us. We don't want you... you... fucking dying because you think it's for the best. Dying because of us. Dying for us- Nightmare, we don't want you fucking dying at all! You're you're.... You're someone important to us. Special to us."

"Nightmare you can't just hide shit like this from us. Because we care about you just as much as you care about is. We don't want you dying more so than you don't want us suffering." Cross looked Nightmare sincerely in the eyes.

"Because just like you'd die for us, we'd suffer a thousand times over so you don't... don't fucking die. We don't want you dying Night because.... You're like family to us." Cross admitted, wiping his eyes. "You gave us a family. Gave us a home. Gave us a second chance. Gave us hope. Gave us a happy ending. Gave us... you. And love, it's worth any amount of suffering. It's worth all the suffering we have to endure."

Nightmare looked at his hands, still intertwined with Cross's, sniffling as tears silently fell. "I don't want you all hurting because of me."

"I don't want to feed off of your pain."

"It's not that you're feeding off our pain," They turned to the door, finding Killer leaning against the door frame. "It's that you're not fucking dying."

"You don't want us to suffer, you say that like we won't be in the worst place we've ever been if you're not in our lives anymore." Killer walked towards them, before stopping as he leaned on Nightmare.

"We love you Nightmare." He spoke softly. "We can always figure something out, even if it seems like we're in an impossible situation. Between a rock and a hard place, we'll find a way, because we're the fucking bad guys, and we've broken out of our fates countless times, we've lived through worse situations before."

"The only difference now, is that we have people we love." Killer smiled, leaning his head on Nightmares shoulder and turning to look at Cross. "But that just means it's all the more worth fighting for."

Nightmare nodded, leaning back against Killer, holding Cross's hands tighter, think about everything they all had said.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything and hid everything from you all." He mumbled, closing his eyes, hoping they'd understand. "I just didn't want to hurt you all and worry you and force you all to be in pain because of me and....."

Nightmare trailed off, sighing, resting his head on Killers shoulder.

"We'll figure something out, Night. We will." Cross hugged Nightmare tightly.

"How about, just for tonight, you can do your whole mysterious disappearing thing," Killer spoke, half joking. "But you have to come back and cuddle with us.

"And you can give me-"

"And me!"

"-nightmares if absolutely necessary." Cross offered, Killer interrupting in the middle.

"Not Dust and Horror though because they don't know, but we'll tell them in the morning. How does that sound?" Cross asked, making sure this wasn't something Nightmare wasn't okay with.

They was a moment before Nightmare started laughing. "I love you all, so much."

"And we love you."

They stood for a moment together, in the kitchen, before Killer spoke.

"Now can we all agree we're not washing those dishes tonight?"

"Nope."

"Not a chance."

Chapter Text

He was… so small…

He was about the size of their forearm, able to be held with just one hand.

He was weak and pathetic and small.

And something about that fact made Nightmare realize how weak they were.

Forget being the most wanted being in the multiverse, spreading chaos and negativity, petrifying his brother in stone, taking on multiple enemies at once and surviving, collapsing countless universes.

They were so weak.

Because look at how small this thing is.

And Nightmare would kill themselves ten times over for him. This helpless, defensless, tiny thing.

They thought they was strong, but looking at him.

They were weak to do anything.

Chapter Text

“Do you have an appointment with Sci?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

They spoke in Spanish for a bit, I don’t speak it that well. In fact, at all.

“You need to go see Sci.” Cross said after a while of Spanish.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

More Spanish bickering.

It started when Nightmare gave us a day off.

It wasn’t completely uncommon, getting a day off.

But normally it was for a reason.

This was… unprompted and out of the blue.

And it kept happening.

Their behavior had been changing as well. In more ways than one.

Forgetful, careless, unmotivated. Many other things, to a concerning degree but, all we know is some of us in the castle feel unsafe and uncomfortable around him. Some of us want to help him without coming on too strong or blunt.

Cross was the sanest one of us, able to talk with him reasonably.

But as we sit in the other room, listening to them bicker on and on. We grow uncomfortable, Cross being the only one sensible enough to debate, argue, fight with him about something none of us could interpret from the Spanish they’re yelling out.

We can only sit and listen as Nightmare gets more stubborn and refuses everything Cross says.

And Cross stops listening to what Nightmare is on about and tries any and every way to get the other help.

I look at Dust. He looks back at me. I turn to Horror, he’s distracting himself.

We ignore it, and pretend like it isn’t there.

Everyone is worried.

But what can we do?