Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was never quiet.

Until Cross would walk into the room.

Usually it was only Killer who had the guts to talk.

“Heeeeey there Crissy Crossy!!!” It was still weird to have someone call him by a silly name like that. He had barely just gotten used to people calling him ‘Cross’ over ‘sans’ never mind whatever weird code names Killer uses.

He gave a silent nod, looking around the room, assessing the situation.

“It’s your birthday, ain’t it?”

“My what?”

“Birthday!”

“Um….. sure.” He took a spot on the same couch Dust and Killer was sitting, but well away from them. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries. Metaphorically and physically.

“C’mon Crisscross, don’t act like you don’t know!” Killer exclaimed, quite loudly. It felt off with how quiet the room was. “Don’t tell me you’ve never celebrated a birthday before? How stuck up was your AU that you didn’t even celebrate birthdays?”

“No. We did.”

“Killer, lay off ‘em.” He heard the gruff voice of Horror speak. It was weird to hear a voice like that. It sounded strained and itchy and like it hurt. They didn’t even have throats, how did that happen?

“I just wanna know what he wants ta do for his birthday!”

“No, you’re going to try and twist it into something you want to do.” Dust cut through. “You know the new guy is uncomfortable so you’ll manipulate him and pressure him into doing something you want to do.”

“Me? I would never!”

Cross just sat, quiet and unsure of how to respond. Killer was quite loud and passionate, Dust seemed to be the voice of reason. The serious one. Be wary of him and act carefully around him. Horror was a sort of middle ground? The one to call them down if they got too rowdy and heated in an argument or conversation.

It would take a while to analyze them all and figure out their respectives roles to see where he could fit in with the mix.

“So, Applesauce, what d’ya wanna do for yer birthday?”

Cross looked to Killer, they laid in Dust's lap, feet resting on his own lap.

“Thirty what years?” Killer asked. “Damn, you’re old.”

“You’re one to talk, dude.” Cross shoved their feet off his lap. “You’re way older than me, cryptid.”

“Thank you, I identify as Mothman thank you very much.” Killer fought back, moving their feet now on Cross’s chest.

He couldn’t help but laugh, shoving the other now fully onto Dust.

“Ey, don’t give the dumbass to me.” Dust spoke, pushing Killer off his lap.

“OW- HEY!” Killer exclaimed, making contact with the floor and looking back up at them. “RUDE! After all I’ve done for you!”

Cross and Dust laughed as Killer continued to complain. It was strange to think that just a couple years ago he was so intimidated by the other.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

He went quiet, quickly reaching out for Dust’s hand and holding it tightly. An unconscious decision he made to make sure the other was okay.

He assessed the situation. He knew it was probably fine. Maybe a power outage? It was an old castle nearing the middle of October.

But he didn’t have to worry as he heard a voice behind him.

“Happy birthday to you.”

He could immediately recognize the voice as Horror’s.

The way it was gruff and deep and honestly really nice to listen to, but Cross would never admit that out loud.

And don’t even get him started on him singing. Beautiful.

It only got better as Dust and Killer joined in, Horror now walking in front of him to show a cake, lit up with multiple candles on the top and side of the cake.

“Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to Croooooooossss”

“Applesauce.” He chuckled as he heard Killer mutter under their breath. They saw the sliver of a genuine smile on the other's face as they saw their silly little joke made him laugh.

“Happy birthday to you!!!!”

Cross laughed as they hit a final note. And it was just….. indescribable.

Blowing out the candle, everything went dark as he heard the others cheer for him.

He laughed along, until he felt something grab his ankle.

“OH MY FUCK-“

The lights flicked back on, as he instinctively kicked whatever had grabbed him off. His foot, happening to make contact with Killer’s skull.

“Dumbass!” He cried at the other, sliding off the couch and onto the floor with Killer, grabbing his shoulder and holding his face gently, inspecting the impact.

“Hey there handsome~”

Cross made a face at Killer’s comment, a mix between disturbed, amused, and judgmental.

“You boneheaded.” The two chuckled as Cross clinked their foreheads together.

“You okay, Kills?”

“Never.” Killer responded, holding Cross back.

“Alright chucklefucks, save it for after cake or get a fucking room.” They both looked to Dust who looked disapprovingly at them.

“Wanna get back up ona couch?” Horror asked, setting the cake on the table in the middle, before getting out plates.

“Yeah, get up here fucker.” Cross grunted, pulling himself and Killer up on the couch they were sitting on before, placing the other on his lap.

“Hey! You stole them from me!” Dust complained as Horror started cutting the cake.

“There’s still plenty of space, Sweetheart.” Killer invited the other, patting their lap and Cross’s chest. “I don’t mind sharing~”

“Gross actually. Nevermind. You can keep them.”

“Asshole!”

“Bitch.”

“Dickhead!”

“Loser.”

“Poopyface!”

“Woah guys, chill out! This is a safe space. That is no way friends talk to each other.” Cross spoke with an exaggerated teacher voice, breaking the two up.

“Hoe I sleep with that motherfucker. That bitch is more than just a friend.”

“Yeah I am. And I love you.”

“I love you too!”

“You’re great and I love you.”

“You’re amazing and I’m so happy to have you in my life!”

“You brighten my day and make my existence a thousand percent better.”

Cross just laughed, pulling Killer closer and hiding his face in their shoulder.

“Oh my stars, I love you all.”

“We love you too, Cookie.” Killer spoke, putting an arm around him.

“Cake?” Cross looked up to see Horror handing him a plate with a slice of cake on it.

“Thank you, Hun.” Cross smiled, taking a bite.

They all sat down, eating cake. Joking and laughing.

It was weird to think about, to Cross at least, how he’s come. How much he’s changed. How much he’s gotten to know the others. How much he had to face and overcome to get here. All the people he met, and all the people he had to say goodbye to.

His first birthday here was a lot less eventful and a bit more awkward.

Cake, generic presents because he was still new, no murder spree (to Killer’s dismay). But, that was about it. He didn’t even want to mention it was his birthday, he was surprised when Killer knew and blatantly asked him about it.

And now here he was. About five years with the Bad Guys. And he’s shoving them around, openly and comfortably telling them he loved them, making jokes and laughing.

He was glad it turned out okay in the end. He got to know everyone, and lived long enough to see today.

He was going to say something, no doubt something sappy, before he was interrupted by a voice behind them.

“….. Did you all really start without me?”

“Sorry Night.”
“Yup!”
“You were busy, didn’t wanna disrupt.”
“I blame Killer.”

Nightmare just sighed, taking a seat in his normal comfy chair. “Well, I’m here now. You’re lucky I care about you all and this is your birthday, Cross.”

Cross smiled softly, watching Nightmares dish a slice of cake. His first year, Nightmare didn’t even show up, too busy with his work. So he sent Killer on the job. That’s how Killer knew his birthday.

—————————

“….what?”

“It’s your birthday, right?”

Cross wasn’t sure, he hadn’t been keeping track for he days.

He turned to Killer who looked at him expectantly. And then to Horror who held the lit cake before him. And Dust, walking back over from turning off the lights.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Make a wish!”

This was weird.

He barely knew these people.

Sure, he’s known them a little over a year, but he didn’t think they were close enough they’d do… all this…

Chapter Text

A field of white and purple flowers.

Seemed to swallow him whole.

His brother was saying something, but he couldn’t really hear it. Instead, he looked up to the motionless sky. Thinking.

What about? Well… he didn’t really know.

Something felt wrong.

He was happy and not a day went by where he wasn’t. He laughed and played with Asriel everyday. And it was perfect.

It was perfect.

But it was so… simple.

So… childish.

There was part of him that was bored. Perhaps the selfish human instinct in him, craving more. Craving adventure. Craving…. Something…

There were just some times where he felt older, more mature, more capable than what he was.

Knew bigger words, grasped and understood grander concepts, tried to do something that seemed like something only for big boys.

Him and Asriel were big boys, but bigger boys.

Big adults. Big people. Big… worlds. Universes. Timelines. Space time. Alternates. Paths. Resets. Overwrit-

“Chara?”

He blinked, his view of the sky now blocked by his brother's head, looking down at him with furrowed brows, concerned.

“Are you even listening to me?” Chara fixated his eyes on the others. They held an emptiness to them. They never thought about it, but something seemed… wrong about it.

“I try but I’m sooo tiiiirrreeeeddd!” Chara threw their arm over their eyes, allowing himself to close his eyes and not think too much about eyes. They’re just eyes. They’ve always been Asi’s eyes.

He didn’t see it, but he could imagine the way Asriel pouted, crossed his arms and rolled back over in the grass.

“I was saying Dad’s birthday is coming up! We should make something for him! Maybe a…”

He ran his other hand through the grass, feeling the petals sifting through his fingers. It was so bright that day, sunny and yet with his eyes closed and his arms over his eyes, he couldn’t see any light.

He couldn’t see anything.

And though he was on the soft grass Asriel and him dug at almost everyday, picking flowers, finding bugs, making mud pies, he swore when he closed his eyes tight enough, concentrated hard enough, twist the grass and roots in between his fingers long enough, he felt older.

He felt older, and he felt a hard rock against his back. A purple hue through his eyelids. Not moist dirt, but dry dust at his fingertips.

And when he opened his eyes again, his hands weren’t dirty, not like when he and his brother tried to help mom with her garden. They were clean except for the faint residue of a dark dust.

Chara felt older, if they talked they’d have a big boy voice, like his dad. His legs were bigger than what he remembered. His hair was longer than what he knew what it actually was. And most weird and worst of all, his body hurt.

Something hurt. And that’s what made him shut his eyes again.

Because he didn’t want to hurt.

Because what if that hurt hurts Asriel? Or Mom? Or Dad? What if it hurts him?

He didn’t want that.

So instead, he took a deep breath and felt the real world come back to him. He could feel the soft earth under him. The way the big tree gave him shade. He could feel the breaking stems in his grasp.

And he could hear his brother's voice.

“This is stupid.”

No… that’s not his brother's voice.

“Fucking genius enough to come up with the great invention, Overwrite, or whatever it is. Destroy countless universes. And he decided to manipulate our perception of the world around us to one of our most vulnerable moments. Fucking cheep shot. Dumbass. That was weak. That was pathetic. And YOU KNOW IT! YOU KNOW YOU’RE WEAK YOU FUCKING-”

Eyes shooting open, he held his breath as he watched the sky, time passing by.

That wasn’t his brother's voice.

“Chara?”

That was.

“What do you think about a pie for Dad?”

“Okay.” Whose voice was that? “But what kind do you think, Asi?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe a…”

Chara took a moment to catch their breath, old training he doesn’t remember learning to stay calm coming back to him. Staying level headed in a tense situation. A fast paced environment. A heated battle between him and an enemy. A royal guard and their opponent.

He didn’t have royal guard training? Not like Miss. Undyne. And he’s surely trained under her. Right?

“Maybe we should talk to Mom.”

“Hmm?” Chara looked to Asriel who was still talking. He had tuned out most of what he said.

“You just seem really tired, Chara. You don’t listen to me. Maybe we should go talk to Mom about it.” Asriel whined, now on his stomach, head resting on his arms as he looked to his brother.

“Yeah, maybe.” Chara thought about it. Mom always knew what to do when he got really tired like this. When his dreams of getting older and growing big and strong got to be too much, she was able to rope him back down to the now, the moments that were important. If he spent all his time thinking about the future, he’ll have no past to build his future.

Asriel held his hand, leading him to where their mom sat, leaning her back against the tree trunk.

But even holding his brother's hand, something felt off. They felt so much bigger than they actually were.

But Mrs. Toriel would help him with that.

Chapter Text

“Yeah, I’m going to a STEM school.” Cross nodded to the employee taking their order. He had worn a sweater from the college he was currently attending, and they striked up a little conversation to fill enough time for Nightmare to decide their order.

“Nice! I love women in STEM!” The waiter spoke, smiling sweetly. “My sister actually is trying to get into aerodynamics and sciences and whatnot, she loves space and stars and whatnot. She’s crazy smart.”

Cross just nodded, giving a close-mouth smile, trying to be as polite as he could.

“Actually, he goes by-“

“Oh Nightmare, are you ready to order?” Cross interrupted his friend, frantic in their speech.

“W-what?” The other blinked at them, confused for a moment, before sneering his question. “Oh- um- yes. Uh… I would like the fettuccine Alfredo with the grilled chicken instead of the fried, please.”

“Of course, and soup or salad?”

“Salad. Caesar.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back with those orders.” The employee smiled, clicking the pen and walking away.

There was a moment, the two watching them go, before Nightmare turned to Cross.

“They called you a woman.”

“Yeah, and what about it?” Cross mumbled, turning back to face Nightmare, but he looked down at his lap, his pants suddenly seeming to be the most interesting thing imaginable.

“Don’t you go by-“

“Yes but it’s not that important.” Cross dismissed the other. “They’re just some stranger I’ll never see again. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does matter, Cross.” Nightmare kept pushing. “This is your identity we’re talking about, how you define and see yourself and how you want to be perceived. Of course it matters.”

“I understand that it’s your identity, and your gender but-”

“But nothing. It’s fine.”

Chapter Text

“Xcellence!l

“Papa! I don’t want to!” The little boy whined, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Come now, Xcellence.” Cross sighed, putting a hand on the little one’s arm. He smiled gently and knocked the other's skull with his own. “That’s not how a big boy acts, is it?”

Xcellence sighs, mumbling. “I don’t feel like a big boy. I wanna be a small boy.”

Cross tilted his head, pulling the little boy closer. “You’re the biggest, most bravest boy I’ve ever known. But y'know what?”

“What?”

“No matter what, you’ll always be my little boy.”

He relished in the little boy's laughter, the soft giggling as he felt small arms wrap around his neck. He felt the fragile body in his hold as he scooped up his son, around four years old, lifting him up.

“Now how about we go see Dada, okay?”

Before he could get an answer, he woke up.

Woke up in the bed he and his partner, Nightmare, shared.

It wasn’t weird or distressing. He just… opened his eyes.

He saw the darkness of the room, his partner's arms still wrapped around him, sleeping soundly.

Nightmare hadn’t been disturbed. Nor alerted about anything.

So… what was that?

Who was that?

He knew. Cross knew who he saw in that dream.

Who he saw got created. Who he saw grow up for four years of his life. Who he saw cradled in his arms.

Who he no longer saw when he woke up.

For some reason, he felt empty.

His nonexistent stomachs ached, his head was light, and his arms lacked something, no matter how hard he gripped onto Nightmare.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain anything to Nightmare. So he didn’t.

He waved the other off that morning, but like he always did, Nightmare just held him tightly as he cried.

He didn’t know why he was even crying.

It was like he was mourning someone he didn’t even know. Someone who wasn’t even real.

And someone who will never be real.

Chapter Text

It was the tiniest, smallest, most minute detail.

It had no meaning or significance. It was just… there.

And yet when Cross opened his eyes, when XGaster had overwritten him, he ran his hand over his right cheek.

It was gone.

Chapter Text

A cold, dark December night.

It seemed to take a toll on Cross, as he sat on the window sill, looking out at the falling snow. He couldn’t see anything outside, the darkness only reflected his morose expression and the flickering fireplace.

He was tired. The sun and moon were a newer addition to the universe their castle currently resided in. But this also meant that seasons, night and day cycles were present to the boys. And with nights starting sooner and lasting longer, Cross felt his internal clock getting tricked into wanting to just… rest. Always. He was always tired.

He was cold. The blanket giving him nothing to protect him from the freezing temperatures the castle reached in the winter seasons.

He was… unhappy. He couldn’t explain why. But recently, it’s just been so tough. Loss of motivation. Loss of confidence. Loss of appetite. Loss of energy. Loss of… everything, made it hard to be in high spirits.

It was always cold. Always dark. Always dull. Always bleak. Always

“Merry Gyftmas, Cranberry!”

Cross jolted awake as he was about to doze off, leaning against the window, wrapped in his blanket. He was interrupted by the sound of Killer's voice appearing right next to him. How he missed the other’s reflection in the window was a mystery, but that was just Killer.

”Huh?” Cross furrowed his brow, turning his body fully to face Killer. He looked at the other, their arms outstretched with a chaotically wrapped box in their hands.

“A present for you, Cranberry!”

“Cranberry?” Cross questioned, looking to Killer. “That’s a new one.”

“Well Cran is like a mix of both Cross and Sans, and Cranberry fit the festive season so I thought it would fit!” Killer smiled, proud of themselves.

Cross merely nodded, just another silly nickname to add to the collection. Instead, he turned to the gift in the other's hands. “So…. What is this?”

“Gyftmas!”

“What is… Gyftmas?”

“Well…” Killer thought about it for a moment, dropping the present to their waist for a moment. “I don’t actually remember.”

“But it’s something we used to do in our AU! I just know we decorate a tree and give people presents!” Killer smiled, picking the gift back up and presenting it to Cross.

“Oh… but…” Cross stared, awkwardly, at the present before taking it hesitantly. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Well what about all the deleted texts you never sent reaching out because you felt like a burden?”

“Huh?” Cross turned to look past Killer, towards Dust’s voice talking to him, but he flinched as he caught a gift, flying his way.

He looked down, a box of chocolates wrapped with a nice ribbon. A Dust classic for him.

“Or all those times we’ve had late night talks where you’ve told me how you want to end it?” Cross let out a grunt as Killer shoved their present into his chest.

“Or all the meals you purposely skip out on, for any number of food, abondamment, insecurity reasons.” Cross turned to Horror, offering him a gift bag.

“Remember that time you lied to us and were going to jump off that bridge in an AU far away from where any of us could reach you.”

He felt his breath get caught in his throat, shutting his eyes pitifully, as he didn’t even bother to look at what Nightmare had outstretched to him.

“Your very existence is a gift Cross.” Dusts spoke, taking his scarf off, and wrapping it around Cross.

“It’s cheesy and cliche, but you don’t have to get us anything, other than the promise you’ll stay.” Killer held their glowing soul, twitching between their shapes, out to him.

“I don’t even know if I can promise that.” Cross choked out, feeling the warmth from Dusts scarf, seeing the light from Killer’s soul.

”Promise you’ll try.” Horror put a hand on Cross’s.

“Try however much you safely can. Give however much you can safely give. Be kind, be respectful, be patient with yourself. As much as you can.” Cross could feel Nightmare use his magic, seeping into his own body and soul.

“…I promise.” Cross cried, wiping at his eyes.

“Merry Gyftmas, Cross.”

“Merry Gyftmas… I hate you guys.”

Chapter Text

“Cross. Cross. C. Cross.”

Soft whispering woke Cross up. It wasn’t a loud bang or shouting or a nightmare waking him up.

It was a calming, familiar voice he heard as he opened his eyes. He was at his desk, a cozy blanket draped over him as he laid his head over crossed arms. The room was dark but he could see someone standing next to him.

“Don’t mean to wake you, but you might wanna see this.”

Cross was half asleep, nodding along as whoever held his hand dragged him through corridors and hallways, into rooms and up stairs. The other was muttering something, from the sound of their voice he could assume it was probably Dust saying things to keep him awake as they weaved throughout the palace. In actuality, it had the opposite effect as the others voice was quite soothing and very easy to fall asleep to, but Cross appreciated the thought.

Finally, they made their way to the rooftop, the endless sky above them, billions of stars shining down. It woke Cross up, seeing the sight. He wasn’t like the normal sans in many ways, but one way that he was, was the fact he loved the night sky.

It wasn’t always like that, he used to bait pay to any kind. Thinking watching the far away balls of energy a waste of time. But the countless nights he stayed up, stargazing with the Bad Guys, it made it all the more meaningful to him.

Like usual, they took a seat and watched the sky, but something was different.

Leaning against Dust, Cross’s focus shifted from the sky to the ground as he saw movement in the distance. Last he knew, it was just the Bad Guys that knew where they resided.

As he watched the little figures in the distance, he started making out who the three were.

“Hey, Applesauce!” He smiled softly as the figure that looked like Killer yelled out to them, waving frantically.

Dust waved back as Cross giggled, the figure that resembled Nightmare hit Killer on the back of their head for getting distracted. The one that looked like Horror watching and waiting patiently.

Dust dropped their hand, wrapping it around Cross instead. They watched the three do something, Dust knowing exactly what they were doing, Cross still trying to figure it out.

And just as Cross was about to ask Dust, whatever questions he had were stuck in his throat as a loud noise rang throughout, a light twisting its way up into the sky, and exploding into a million sparkles, decorating the sky with what looked like colorful sprinkles or glitter.

It mesmerized Cross, frozen in place as he watched what he could only assume was magic fizzle from this ginormous rainbow explosion and dissipate into nothing in just a matter of seconds.

He could only gasp more and more as more pops sounded out and more colorful explosions appeared in the sky. The dark, blank black canvas of the sky danced with mixes of reds and greens and yellows and whatever colors exploded into existence in the night sky.

Dust smiled, watching the awe and childlike excitement spread across the other’s face, too focused on the show in the night sky to notice anything else around him.

He was only snapped out of the mystery of the exploding magic sky colors as he heard the others start counting down.

Cross joined them, unsure what they were counting down to, as he heard Killer counting loudly in the distance, and Dust count down next to him as well.

He was a little nervous that maybe a bomb was gonna go off, knowing who the Bad Guys were and what they were like as people, but he also trusted them to not do anything too stupid.

“THREE! TWO! ONE! WOOOOOOO!”

They cheered for reasons Cross didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to question as Dust kissed him on the cheek, Cross laughing loudly as the popping noises got louder and increased in succession.

The colors reflected off of them as they blazed in the sky, Cross turning to face Dust and kissing him back. Dust muttering softly “Happy new year, Cross.”

“Here‘s to another year with the most lovely people I have ever met. To those who have changed my life forever. To more bloodshed and misery. More pillow fights and storytelling. Growing closer and learning more. Changing for better and for worse.”

Dust thought to himself, Cross yelling at the top of their nonexistent lungs to Killer, over the sound of explosions in the sky. A smile plastered all over his face as he argued with Killer despite not being able to hear the other.

Cross may not have understood, but he didn’t complain. Whatever the occasion, he was just glad to be spending this night with the people he loved. He wasn’t sure how long it’s been with them, how many years, but he hopes to spend many more with these people he called family.

Chapter Text

He gasped, sitting up straight as he started at the empty training room.

He remembered taking a seat, just for a rest, but he must have fallen asleep.

“Damn it,” Cross groaned, trying to stand up. “I forgot to stretch.” He was sore.

But that was just a distraction. A distraction from the countless lives he just witnessed. Memories he didn’t experience. Times he never lived. Moments he never saw.

Deaths he never really felt.

How many timelines were there? At least ten… right?

Each time… he was overwritten. Sometimes painlessly, suddenly, without his knowledge. Other times though… not so much.

He was not hurt. He didn’t feel pain, but dream-Cross didn’t know that. Dream-Cross felt that pain. Felt that fear. Saw the blood. Witnessed the death. Faded into nothing.

Even when he woke up, completely physically fine, everything within him was screaming something was wrong. Something wasn’t functioning. Something shouldn’t be.

He shouldn’t be alive

He just died.

Or at least… that’s what he thought.

But looking around, trying to remember his techniques, the more he saw that wasn’t true.

The training dummies, the powered off lights, his own hands, the windows leading to the rising sun, his daggers tossed away on either side of him.

His light weight training clothes, the training room floor beneath him, the cold concrete wall behind him, his soul beating in his own chest.

Pots and pans clanging in the distance. Killer’s loud voice occupying it. The sound of his own breathing.

The reminisce of dirt and dust lingering in the air, faint hints of breakfast wafting in.

Blood.

He could taste blood in his mouth.

Wait….

No he didn’t.

That was morning breath.

He needed to wash up, a new day had started already.

Cross sat there a moment more, replaying what he thought was reality, over and over again in his mind.

He was dying. He did die. Didn’t he? Countless times. Over and over. Timeline after timeline.

Those were him dying.

He wasn’t just dreaming. He was remembering.

He did die. He has died. He was dead.

But… then how could he see the training room get flooded with light so easily as the sun peeked over the horizon. Feel the dirt between his fingers as he was reminded it was chore-day today. Nightmare walking downstairs to the kitchen in the old, creaky castle. The reminder of the old fluff that he tore out of the dummies last night. A reminder he went to sleep last night.

And he woke up again this morning.

He wasn’t dead.

He was alive.

He was living.

And he had to live today.

He groaned, getting up, sore all over. He steadied himself in the wall and dissipated his daggers.

He gave another deep breath, before he walked.

Walked away, out of the training room, and into his life.

He was alive.

Chapter Text

Nightamre had a tendency to say things like “you’re mine” “you’re hurt and I don’t like seeings things that belong to me being hurt.” “You’re heart and soul belong to me, and I will do my best to take care of it.” And other things along the line. And to some of them, they found it endearing and almost romantic. They were totally fine with this kind of word play and what not.

Not Cross.

Cross was done being trapped. With people controlling him. With people claiming him. Telling him what to do. All this and that.

He was done and tired of it all.

He would belong to no one no longer.

So when Nightamre said things like “you’re mine, and I take care of things that are mine.” Or “you belong to me, and I’ll do my best to keep you safe.” Cross had to stop himself from speaking out against Nightmare.

He knew it was meant with no harm or malicious intent, but something inside of him got… scared? Angry? Upset?

A not good feeling, that’s for sure.

So he always had a… negative reaction to hearing those phrases.

And Nightmare was always careful.

But, there was this one time.

Once when he was in a squabble with Dream, Nightmare came to get Cross and as they were leaving, Nightmare told Dream something along the lines of “Keep your hands off of what isn’t yours” or “don’t touch things that are mine” or something like that, and at the moment Cross was too heated at Dream to notice or care, but later that night, he thought about it and couldn’t help but hear those words ringing in his head.

That’s all he was. A mere object to Nightmare. A mindless toy following orders and his every command. He didn’t mean anything to Nightmare. He was nothing. He was an easy puppet to control.
He knew it wasn’t true, Nightmare has proved countless times that Cross was more than that to him.

He was a living, beating, breathing soul with feelings and emotions and a life to live. Chances and risks to take. A goal to accomplish. An end to get to. A story to tell.

Cross knew this. He knew this.

So why couldn’t he help but feel like he was nothing to Nightmare?

Nightmare loved him. He knew that.

Chapter Text

It’s all a game.

That’s what Ink told himself anyway.

It felt strange, having to physically stop himself from taking one of his paints and taking a swig. It was always an unconscious thing he did, just grab one and down it. He never forgot to, he did it automatically.

And yet here he was now, having to remind himself constantly, over and over, to stop himself from drinking a vial.

It was for a game he agreed to play.

He feared he may have to do something he’d regret, and regret was not a fun feeling he enjoyed. So since he was able to, he just chose to turn that off.

But it was still strange.

Sometimes even going as far as uncapping a vial, but having to physically stop himself, remembering suddenly why he was itching for his bottles.

How long ha sit been since he’s fully turned off his emotions?

It was never fun to be without them,
But it was worse to be with them, and regret what the feelings they gave when he did something bad.

And he was going to do something bad.

But it was just a game.

It was all just a game.

It’s all a game.

Chapter Text

“I’m so sorry I’m late I fell asleep in the training room accidentally so I didn’t set an alarm and I know that’s not an excuse I know it’s on me I’ll try to-“

“Cross.”

He froze, looking at his boss, frantic.

“… breathe.”

Cross narrowed his eyes, tilting his head in confusion.

“Don’t forget to breathe, Cross.” Nightmare reminded him.

Cross nodded, confused, taking some deep breaths.

“One more time, Cross.”

With one more heavy sigh, Cross started again.

“I’m sorry I am late.” A slower, more calm and clear start. “I was training and lost track of time. I fell asleep without setting an alarm. I am sorry, I will do better next time.”

“That’s alright, Cross.” Nightmare spoke softly. “I am glad you are getting your sleep. Thank you for being honest and telling me about this.”

“May I ask you to realize that people are going to make mistakes and accidents. And the reason and blame doesn’t matter so much as what we do to fix it?”

Cross nodded, looking down, letting the words sink in.

They were such obvious words noted but in a less clearer, frantic headspace, he guessed his worry couldn’t be helped.

“Thank you for being mature enough to realize your fault and admitting to it. Now, can we fix this fault?”

Nodding again, Cross followed Nightmare inside the room.

He knew Nightmare wasn’t upset or angry, nightmare was trying to break old habits, Nightmare was trying to be professional, Nightmare was trying to teach him a life lesson, Nightmare was trying to let him down slowly.

But still, he knew Nightmare knew too, he couldn’t help but feel horrible and guilty. He couldn’t help but feel like Nightmare was fuming at him. He couldn’t help but feel like being late might get him hurt.

Chapter Text

Is this the end?
It can’t be
I still have so much
Left
To do

What is this game?
It’s not fair
I want
To reset

And start a

New

*Instrumental*

Did
I lose?

Is this
How
I

Die those lives
All who’s died

In vain

Chapter Text

There was the water fountain he always dismissed.

He would always pass by it on patrols. Stand on the ledge when he was younger before he fell in. Watch the increasing count of coins that piled with the bottom.

Street were always full, lined with lights or clothes. Shops crowding the streets, signs and promotions. Children running up and down, their parents no where in sight. Laughing, yelling loudly as he guarded the streets.

Maybe a polite “Hi Mister” was thrown his way, but other than that, they would always run along, like him and Paps used to do too.

Humans and monsters as far as the eye could see, making their way in and out of the shops, catching up with old friends. Old and young, sitting at cafés and watching the day go by.

He remembered he was stopped for a chat with an older lady, a cup of tea and crumbles of pastries before them at a table, under the lilac, laced parasol, placed right outside the streets people walked down.

He remembers that city so well.

If he closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could hear the children playing at the nearby park, next to the flower field with that massive hill kids would roll down. He could feel that light breeze on his face, sun shining through his eyes as a rushing fountain sounded right beside him. Chatter so clear he could’ve sworn he could pick up conversations word for word.

He could feel people pass by him, feel a brush against his arm, a shout for a frozen, sweet treat, he could remember exactly how much it cost. The mist of water hitting him, the smell of new clothes and AC brushing past every now and then, before a waft of fresh bread flooded his senses again.

He was standing there again. While on patrol, he paid no mind.

But looking without seeing, looking back on it as opposed to seeing it, play out in front of him…

He noticed, and saw, and felt, and smelled, and heard every little detail.

Flags flapping in the wind, crunch of rocks against the pavement as people walked. The grass growing between the cracks in the road and sidewalk.

“Hey Cross!”

“Hmm?”

He looked to Killer, standing at his side as he sat on the couch. His music had stopped, he didn’t know how long ago, but the sky was just as grey as when he started zoning out.

“Making sure you weren’t dust’n on us!” Killer laughed, shoving Cross who smirked, getting up and pushing the other right back.

“You wish!” Cross ran after Killer who sprinted off, starting a a chase with Cross.

And in a moment, that memory, those streets, that fountain was forgotten.

They’ll never truly be gone, his memory, those past lives, forever haunt him, even if he doesn’t realize it.

But in this moment, they were forgotten. Mixed with any other memories and times, to be remembered for another day.

Chapter Text

“Are you making coffee?”

“Mhmm.”

Nightmare walked into the kitchen where he found his husband by the coffee maker.

“Wait Night.” Cross said suddenly.

“What?” Nightmare asked, looking at his partner, slightly confused and concerned.

There was a moment of silence, before Cross closed the lid on the pod of coffee grounds and it let out a satisfying “pop”.

“I love that sound.” Cross muttered, pressing a button on the coffee maker to get his coffee started.

“You’re silly.” Nightmare laughed as he grabbed another mug from the cabinet.

“Isn’t it a nice sound!” Cross laughed with the other as he grabbed his coffee mug as the coffee machine finished its job.

“It is.“ Nightmare smiled, walking over to his partner.

“Uhg! And it smells so good.” Cross said, holding the cup up to his nose.

“Does it?” Nightmare asked, half seriously.

Cross let out a little “mhmm” as Nightmare spoke again. “Could I smell?”

“Mhmm yeah.” Cross held out the mug to Nightmare, the other in turn taking it from his partner and sniffing it.

“Oh that does smell good.” Nightmare agreed.

“Right? Do you want me to make you one?” Cross asked, holding his hand out again.

“No I’m good though thanks.” Nightmare walked out, taking a sip of the coffee and putting the empty mug he got before in Cross’s hand.

Cross shrugged, turning back to the machine and going to take a sip out of the cup when-

“Nightmare!” Cross laughed as he went to where he heard Nightmare walk off to.

His partner turned back around to Cross, catching the smaller in his chest and wrapping his arms around him, holding back his laugh as he had a mouthful of coffee.

“You little- give me back my coffee!” Cross laughed, putting his hands on Nightmares shoulders and feeling down his arms to find the tallers hand.

Nightmare swallowed the coffee in his mouth and laughed, taking ahold of one of his lovers hand and placing the mug gently in his grasp.

“You asshole.” Cross continued to laugh, taking a sip of the coffee.

Nightmare smiled, giving Cross a kiss on the top of his head. “Remember we’re going to meet the others for lunch later.”

“Yup.” Cross nodded, walking back to the kitchen.

“Hun watch out you forgot to-“

“OW!”

“…Close the cupboard.” Nightmare chuckled silently to himself, walking over to his partner and putting a hand on his back and on the hand that was holding the coffee mug.

“It’s my curse I swear.” Cross mumbled, using Nightmare to help him get up.

“You need to remember to close them.” Nightmare joked helping Cross up and his tendril close the cupboard door.

“It’s hard! I’m like a child, I don’t have good object permanence. I don’t see it, I don’t feel it, I assume it’s out of my way and I forget to close it.” Cross exclaimed, setting the mug down.

“Being mostly blind and having ADHD is not a good combination.” Nightmare muttered, half joking.

“I don’t have ADHD.” Cross shook his head, grabbing the empty mug Nightmare handed him earlier.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Nightmare, again, joked before getting knocked on the head by Cross

“You’re way to accurate with that.” Nightmare eyed the smaller.

“You’re an entire black being against the white tabletop.” Cross rolled his eyes.

“What!? You’re telling me you can see me!?” Nightmare joked in an overly dramatic voice, before laughing as Cross threw a hand towel at him.

“Oh shut up.” Cross spoke unamused, but a smile still found its way onto his face.

Nightmare chuckled to himself, starting on breakfast. “You want me to make you anything for desayuno?”

“Tortilla francesa por favor mi amor.” Cross answered, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What d’ya want in yours?” Nightmare asked, going into the fridge and pulling out eggs.

“Pimiento, tomate, queso, y jamón por favor.”

“Could you start washing the veggies and I can cut them when you’re done?” Nightmare asked, pulling out a red pepper, a tomato, cheese, and bacon.

“Sí.”

“Gracias, mi amor.” Nightmare smiled handing Cross the veggies he took out of the fridge.

“Is Spanish your first language?” Nightmare asked as he prepared their omelettes.

“Sí.” Cross repeated, turning on the tap and rinsing the veggies he was given.

“Ah, I see.” Nightmare nodded.

“¿Y tú?” Cross asked, putting the veggies aside and drying his hands.

“I know all languages. I haunt nightmares everywhere, not just in Spanish and English speaking places.” Nightmare explained.

“Ahh, ya veo.” Cross nodded, coming up beside Nightmare and places the veggies down next to him.

“Gracias, mi amor. De nuevo.” Nightmare laughed, taking the veggies and started dicing them.

The rest of breakfast was filled with light banter, quizzing Nightmare in his language, soft sizzles of omelettes being made, enjoying of said omelettes, and cleaning up the dishes.

——————

“Bonjour.”

“Hello in French.”

“Nǐ hǎo.”

“Hello in Chinese.”

“Nyob zoo.”

“Hello in Hmong.”

“привет”

“Hello in Russian- do you only know “Hello” in other languages?” Nightmare laughed, cleaning the counter they ate on as Cross washed the dishes.

“Alright, riddle me this, riddler. Itadakimasu!” Cross exclaimed at the other.

“That means you’re a weeb!” Nightmare laughed.

“I am not! I’ve been to Japan and-“

“You have absolutely not ever been to Japan, I know that for a fact.” Nightmare quickly cut off the other.

“I have to been to Japan- I am actually Japanese-“

“You are not Japanese.” Nightmare came up behind Cross wrapped his arms around the smaller, nibbling at his neck.

“AHHA! Stop Nightmare that-“ Cross giggled and squealed, trying to push the other away from his neck.

“You are not from Japan, I know that for a fact.” Nightmare leaned against Cross’s head, hugging the other tighter.

“Alright whatever now let me go before I drop a plate.” Cross tried to push the other off.

“Hmmm….. no.” Nightmare squeezed his partner tighter.

“Nightmare let me go!” Cross laughed, splashing water at the other.

Nightmare hissed and immediately let Cross go, hiding behind him instead.

Cross laughed at the reaction. “You’re adorable.”

“Fight me.” Nightmare hissed at the other before hiding away as more water came flying his way. “You’re cleaning that up!”

“Sure.” Cross spoke simply, going back to rinsing the dishes.

Nightmare stood back up seeing as their little quarrel ended and kissed Cross lightly on the back of his neck before walking out of the kitchen.

“Get ready soon, we’ll go run errands before we leave to lunch. We’re out of eggs.” He spoke before disappearing behind a wall.

“Okay.” Was all that Cross replied with.

After getting dressed, the two headed out,

——————————

Cross sighed, running his hand across the cover, feeling the old cracked plastic. Holding his breath as he felt the pages as he brushed through them, before opening up to a random page and taking a deep breath in, taking in its scent.

He used to not really enjoy reading. It was long and boring and he felt it just wasted time. But after meeting Nightmare, it became one of his favorite things to do with the other.

Whether they were reading together, separate books but in the same room, reading in their own time and discussed it in bed at night, or whatever else. He loved whenever they could forget about everything for a moment and discuss this fantasy world for a little while.

But now…. He couldn’t read. He couldn’t see the words clearly. He could barely make out the cover sometimes. This was the only thing he could do to feel anything from a book anymore. He couldn’t read the story, but he could remember that feeling it gave him through the scent memory trigger.

Fortunately though, Nightmare was always happy to read to the other. Anytime he wanted. There wasn’t much he could do to help Cross sometimes, but reading was something that always calmed the other down.

Because sometimes, for those few moments, they could forget about everything and live this fantasy world for a little while. Pretend everything was like back then. And everything was okay. Everything was like before. Everything wasn’t…… like how it is now.

Don’t get them wrong, they still love these days. It isn’t some horrible existence they live. It’s just….. there’s this looming fear of the day Cross will be….. his sight will be fully gone.

So for this little while, it could just be the two of them. Reading together by soft lamp light. With nothing else in the world to bother them or plague their thoughts.

“Anne evidently got through her visit without any serious breach of “etiquette” for she came home through the twilight, under a great, high-spring sky glories over with trials of saffron and rosy cloud, in a beatified state of mind and told Marilla all about it happily-“

Nightmare continued to read, Cross leaning and snuggling against him.

It was……. Nice. It was peaceful. It was warm. It was home.

He felt safe and at home here. Here with his partner, snuggled together reading one of his favorite childhood books.

It was everything.

“Do you ever worry about me when I go out alone?” Cross said softly yet suddenly.

If it had caught Nightmare off guard, he didn’t show it. “You know I trust you. You know I know you’re very capable and strong, even without your sight. I have no doubt back then you could’ve fought an army of armed professionals with your eyes closed. Now, I know you could desecrate a mob of magic and weapon wielding guardians with your eyes closed. And your arms tied behind your back. I have no doubt you could protect yourself outside of my view.”

“Is that really how you feel Night?” Cross asked in a quiet voice. “Or is that how you want to feel?”

Nightmares' instinct made him want to say “of course it’s how I feel.” But he had to be truthful. He thought about it for a moment, and left his partner in a still silence.

“I know you’re strong and capable and can hold your own, but to say I don’t worry about you when you’re not near is a lie.” Nightmare said finally. “It’s not that I don’t think any less of you now than before, but…. I just can’t help but worry.”

Cross nodded solemnly, leaning against Nightmare's arm, closing his eyes. “I feel like that too sometimes.”

Nightmare turned to Cross in confusion and hope for further explanation.

“I trust you and I love you. But sometimes I….. I worry that….. I don’t know…. What if you walk through that door for the last time….. and I never find you again.” He hugged the other's arm tightly.

“What if-“

“Shhh, it’s okay love.” Cross felt a hand cup his cheek, and a soft kiss be planted on his head.

“I’m sorry it’s just-“

“It’s alright love.” Nightmare brought him closer to him, wrapping his arm around the other. “I understand, I feel the same whenever you leave. I can’t help but worry and so it seems so do you.”

“Instead of telling you I won’t leave, let me show you.” Nightmare leaned against Cross as he nuzzled into the crook of Nightmares neck. “Let me stay by your side for however long you live this life, and forever more after that.”

“I’m scared, what if when I’m older, and I can’t see anything, what if I forget what you look like? What if I forget the sight of your smile? That look in your eye? What’s going to happen when I can’t see you?”

“You’ll feel me with you with every coming year, and hear my voice every step of the way.” Nightmare's voice was reassuring and comforting in every way. Forget the satisfying coffee maker noises, nothing will ever stand up to hearing the love of his life tell him everything he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Shhh it’s alright love, it’s alright.” Nightmare continued to whisper to him as Cross dug his face further into Nightmare's chest.

They stayed there for a while, before they calmed down and started reading again. It was the perfect thing Cross needed to calm down right now.

“”I don’t know —— I don’t want to talk as much,” she said, denting her chin thoughtfully with her forefinger. “It’s nicer to think-“
Huh??”

Cross raised a brow as he heard Nightmare's reading was interrupted by something.

“Cross, love, did you or anyone you know ever make you a bookmark that says, “Don’t worry, owl keep your spot!” With a purple and brown owl holding two balloons. One red, the other blue. And it’s colored in…. Either colored pencil or crayon. The words all brown while the word “owl” is in purple?” Nightmare inquired, touching the bookmark to Cross’ hand.

“Hmm…. Maybe…?” Cross pondered, feeling the bookmark, but not getting much from it.

“It is laminated which makes me curious.” Nightmare added.

“I might have made it with Ink or something when I was still stuck in my old world.” Cross added, sitting up more.

“That would make sense.” Nightmare nodded.

“It does sound really cute.” Cross smiled, gesturing to hand the bookmark back to Nightmare. “I used to love birds.”

“Really?” Nightmare question, half amused, taking the bookmark back.

“I still do.” Cross added. “Sometimes I think about getting a service bird. Like an owl or hawk or vulture or something.”

“I feel like I know where this conversation is going.” Nightmare muttered quietly to himself, knowing fully well Cross could hear him.

“We should get a dog.” Cross said in response.

“We’ve talked about this before.” Nightmare replied simply, turning the page.

“A service dog would be really helpful for me to get around and so you don’t worry about me going out alone every time.” Cross pointed out, leaning against Nightmare, staring ahead of him.

“Do you need a dog or do you want a dog?”

Cross snapped his head to Nightmare, dramatically leaning away from him, his mouths agape. “Wooooooooooooow-“

“Oh shut up Cross.” Nightmare laughed, pushing Cross away.

“-Did you really just say that to me?” Cross leaned closer to Nightmare, holding back laughter.

“You don’t need one Cross.” Nightmare shook his head, putting the book between his partner and himself.

“Me, a blind, disabled-“ Cross was fully laughing at this point.

“Shut up Cross I would never say that to anyone else I don’t know-“

“I can’t believe you looked me in the eyes-“

“I’ve known you for years- even before you were blind in both eyes- I’m married to you Cross.”

“In my blind ass eyes.”

“I would’ve never said that to someone I didn’t know.”

“-Said as an able bodied person that I don’t need-“

“Cross I am fully blind in my right eye-“

“As an entirely able bodied-“

“You don’t need a dog, you just want a dog.”

At this point they were both crying laughing at the conversation they were having. It was all basically a joke at this point.

They’ve had this debate before multiple times, the monochromatic skeleton indeed just wanting a dog. And Nightmare having to contain the smaller.

“You’re using your disability to your advantage!” Nightmare laughed, pulling out a pillow from behind them and hitting Cross.

“Yeah obviously. What else do you expect me to do with it?” Cross laughed, holding his hand out to block Nightmare, grabbing his own pillow from behind him and attacking Nightmare back.

Nightmare laughed, holding up his pillow to block Cross, using his tendrils to hit Cross again.

“No fair cheater.” Cross laughed as one tendril held him still, another tickled him, and the other two hit him continuously (but rest assured lightly)with pillows.

“Yeah obviously. What else do you expect me to do- Ah!” Nightmare laughed, quoting Cross before getting hit by said skeleton.

Cross swung around and hit away the tentacles attacking him.

“Love, be careful, don't fall off the bed!” One of his tendrils grabbed his arm and tugged him down.

Chapter Text

“It’s so… small…”

“What? The castle?”

“Yeah.”

Dust looked at the other, confused, watching the other carefully.

“The CASTLE… is SMALL?”

“Well-” Cross laughed, clarifying himself. “It isn’t SMALL.”

“But… I remember when I first came here, it was GINORMOUS! The biggest building I’ve ever seen.

I remember Killer gave me a tour, and maybe it was because it was Killer, but I remember being so confused and so lost.

Hallways were randomly placed, leading to nowhere. Door placement sporadic and unpredictable. The corridors were cold and dark. Nothing seemed right, everything was confusing, just… off. This castle was so big, I was certain I would never be able to remember anything.

That was four years ago.

And depending on how you think of it, the age either a long time, or just the start of a lifetime.

Either way, a lot of things have happened in these past years.

One of these being…

These halls aren’t so long anymore, doors aren’t so confusing, corridors aren’t so dark, rooms aren’t so big.

They’ve become familiar, second nature, reassuring. Home.

I’ve memorized them without trying, familiarized them without knowing, walked through them a million times.

This castle that used to be so big, so untamable, so foreign…

Is now a place I call home. I walk through with my eyes closed. Is so small.

The castle is… so small… there’s no other way I can explain it.”

Dust stared blankly.

“Ya gotta stop hang’n ‘round Night and his books you poetic nerd.”

“HEY!”

Chapter Text

It was all normal at first.

Killer annoyed Dust, as they all sat at the kitchen table. Nightmare was at the head of the table, Horror dishing out the breakfast he made.

It was just like any normal breakfast. Any normal day.

A part of me was relieved. Another part pained.

I was glad nothing had changed, that they were okay with it, not suspecting anything off.
But at the same time, it hurt that I meant nothing to them.

But the feelings dissipated as Horror got to my spot at the table, and Killer went to put their feet on my chair.

They all paused and looked at the empty spot.

Horror plated the food, Killer rested their feet. Dust got up, like they were expecting me to be there and eat with them.

I watched Dust walk up the stairs, and knock at my door.

They were so loud.

He never pounded like Killer, but still, soft knocking echoed in my mind as he waited.

Waited at my door.

Expecting an answer. Expecting me to show up. Expecting me to open the door and come downstairs to eat breakfast with them.

But I never showed up. I couldn’t.

Dust waited a little longer, before he walked back downstairs to the others.

He sat at the table, told the others I was still asleep. They continued on with breakfast, speaking quietly so as to not wake me up. As if I was asleep.

That was the first hit of regret. The first sign I made a mistake. The first clue they loved me.

The day went on, Nightmare retreated to his office. Horror cleaned the dishes. Dust took a nap on the couch. And Killer stood by my door.

They knocked. A couple times, softly. And then multiple times, rapidly and annoyingly. And then pounding, maybe trying to “wake me”.

They waited.

I didn’t open the door. I couldn’t.

They left. They went to the training room alone.

No one suspected a thing.

Life went on as normal.

Dust and Horror joined Killer in training. Nightmare continued his planning.

Nightmare called us all into a meeting.

I didn’t show up. I couldn’t.

Nightmare sent everyone on a mission, and went to my door.

He knocked, expecting me to answer.

He stood for a moment at my door, before realizing I wasn’t in my room.

He panicked for a little bit, but brushed it off.

I had been making good progress. I hadn’t had an episode in months. I had been fine last night. I was getting my proper rest that morning.

He couldn’t assume the worst.

He took his place in his library.

Dust got back first, did his report, retreated to his room.

Killer was next, did a report, and stayed with Nightmare.

Horror came back late, he went on a supplies run. Gave his report and put things away.

He started on dinner.

They had dinner.

Killer put their feet on my chair. Horror dished for him, Killer and Nightmare. Dust was still asleep in his room.

They waited for me.

I never showed up. I couldn’t.

They finished and sat in the living room together.

Dust came down and joined them.

Late night, they wonder where I am.

Horror calls it a night, stops by my door, before heading to his room.

Dust is next, followed by Killer, they stop at my door together, but get no answer. They leave for Killer’s room, fall asleep together.

Nightmare waits. Trying to find me. Wait to stay up for me. Until I return. Until he can sense me again.

He stays up all night.

That was the second hit of regret. The second sign I made a mistake. The second clue they loved me.

The next morning, Horror meets Nightmare who had moved to the kitchen, making coffee.

Nightmare explains the situation.

He doesn’t know where I am.

They discuss until Killer comes down with Dust.

They are told what’s happening.

They all go to my door.

They knock, all trying to say something, as if I was in there. As if I could go to the door and open it. As if I would just show up and make everything okay again.

Nightmare tells them I’m not in there.

Even still, they knock.

I don’t answer. I can’t.

They hesitate.

They give me one more warning.

They open my door.

Chapter Text

They saw my dust.

They saw my act.

They saw what I did.

They saw my mistake.

They didn’t see me.

That was the third hit of regret. The third sign I made a mistake. The third clue they loved me.

Dust left. He stayed in his room. He trashed everything. He screamed. He cried. He self-destructed.

He sat in a corner and caved.

Horror made his way to the kitchen, trying to soothe himself, distract himself with cooking.

His favorite hobby.

He stopped half way.

He sat at the counter and cried.

Killer stayed in my room.

They were quiet.

They were so quiet.

They stared at the last place I existed, and they sat. So still. So quiet.

Nightmare did a check up on everyone.

Found Dust in his room, but left him alone to defuse. Found Horror in the kitchen and stayed with him for a while, let him cry but not cry alone. Went back for Killer and got no reaction out of them. And then he distracted himself with work.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

When I left, I thought everything would be okay. I thought everything would be fine. I thought everything would be normal. Better even.

But everything fell apart.

I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.

Dust had been doing so well, blocking out the voices. Seeing reality. Living in the moment. Enjoying his life. Feeling for others.

But he crumbled after I left.

He was twitchy and unstable. His muttering came back. He started scratching again, snapping and paranoid.

Killer was always good at keeping it together. They had gotten better, actually feeling things and having a grip on their emotions. They were loud and obnoxious, funny and unbothered. They helped around with everyone, competent and played up their dumbassery.

But when I went, it was like everything was drained.

Their smile plastered and fake. They tried to make jokes, but it wasn’t the same. They were quiet and serious, completely cold and empty. They stopped playing and hyping up the team. If not on a mission, killing to their heart's content, they would sit. Still. Quiet. Alone. They no longer trained. No longer sparred. If Nightmare wanted them to practice, they wouldn’t dare step foot in the training room, opting to find a victim themself.

Horror‘s eating habits had gotten better. They were learning and recovering after the accident with Undyne. Their English was improving, their reaction time was faster. They no longer felt like they had to hoard food, fight for their lives, treat everything as a danger.

But since I disappeared, he started worrying.

Started blaming himself, trying to find reasons. Overthinking how the others felt and their behavior. What could happen to influence the others to leave too. He became wary of everything, he stopped eating. He started picking at his skull again, overworking himself and doing more than his body could handle.

Nightmare had been softer, kinder. He has grown and connected with others. Taken care of his and the others mental health, realized his mistakes and come to terms with them. Grown as a person, became more productive and happier.

But I left and he got worse.

He tried to maintain what he had, he was never good at letting go. He drowned himself in work, refusing to let it affect him. He tried to be there for the others, but he couldn’t grapple the reality himself. Connections were lost, he couldn’t remember his own advice. He grew more snappy and angry. More stressed and disconnected.

It was as if everything reversed. Everything went back. Everything regressed.

I hadn't meant for this to happen. I didn’t think they’d miss me this much. I didn’t think they’d miss me at all.

I knew they liked me, but I always assumed in a “tolerate” kind of way. Not in an actual way.

But I was too late. I watched the outcome. I watched them fall. I watched them worsen.

All because of me.

I took my own life that day.

I thought it would be for the better.

But after watching everyone and everything I love fall apart.

There’s nothing I regret more.

No awkward moment, no misspeak, no accidental offense, no heated argument, no accident, no failed mission, no mistake, no misunderstanding, nothing.

Absolutely nothing could compare.

Nothing could compare to leaving by my own hands.

Nothing I could regret more than leaving that night.

Nothing I wish I could take back then my own life

Nothing I want more to turn back time and stop myself.

But what’s done was done.

And I could do nothing but watch as it ruined the lives of the people I was trying to help.

As if my existence was a burden. As if I was a pain. As if I was annoying. As if I was hurting them. As if I was an inconvenience. As if I meant nothing to them.

As if I didn’t help them become the people they were proud to say they were. As if I never helped them at their lowest moments. As if the thousands of good memories didn’t outweigh the handful of bad ones. As if they didn’t chose to act a certain way for me. As if they didn’t change for the better because of me. As if they didn’t enjoy their everyday with me. As if they weren’t excited to see me the next day.

As if they didn’t love me

As if I never loved them.

What have I done?

Chapter Text

“I… didn’t want to be forgotten…”

“That’s…” Cross looked to the other, their eyes furrowing in horror. “Why you did all this?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then why!?” He cried out, angry at the others' nonchalance. “Why did you decide to help him? Why did you put us through all this hell? Why did you cause the entire multiverse to fall apart!?”

“I did it because I know.”

“Know what!?”

“I know what it’s like to be unfinished.”

“Uncompleted. Abandoned. Rejected.”

Ink looked down. “…. forgotten…”

“He was right there. A creator, full of ideas just… plagued with perfection. Loss for creativity. Overwhelmed with the potential at his fingertips.

The ability to create. The gift to create. The power to create.”

Ink looked up, stars in his eyes, his voice light and full of amazement and awe. But his expression grew dim as he continued.

“… and he wanted to give up.” Their voice, cold.

“He wanted to do what my creator did to me. Give up.” They explained, softly. “Stop and leave his creations to be stuck.”

“I know he had brilliant ideas there, maybe just not the motivation. And if I didn’t give it to him, he may have stopped and left Chara and Frisk, just kids at the time.”

“Leave them.” Ink looked far, fear in their eyes. “Leave them in an empty world, surrounded by only the same little flowers that, though were pretty, were not fit for characters worthy of a story. Of development. Of a life.”

“Or worse…” Ink trailed off, Cross debating if he was interested, heartbroken, or sick of whatever Ink was monologuing about.

”He could’ve started working and you, and your brother, and all these other characters you call family. That you’re fighting so hard for.”

“He could’ve stopped half way and… and leave them… and….. leave you….”

Watching as Ink grew distant, empty eyes in a hundred yard stare as he seemed to remember something Cross wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I just wanted to help you.”

“Well…” Cross brought himself back, shaking his head. Separating himself from whatever was happening with Ink.

“Your “help” got the entire multiverse to fall apart.” Cross spit out. “Now there’s no one to remember you.”

“There are the survivors I knew Dream would save.”

“Even if they did remember you, it’d be as the villain of this story. The great protector that they knew, they loved, they trusted.” Cross spoke, disgust in his voice. “And then betrayed them, when they needed him most.”

“I would rather be remembered in infamy than be a forgotten hero.“

Cross flinched, taking a step back at the others cold… emotionless tone as they spoke that statement.

After a moment, Cross recomposed, sighing and shutting his eyes tightly.

“We are not the same, you and I.” Looking to the other, he snarled. “We are not the same.”

“I never said we were.”

“Then why did you decide you were fit to decide how my life would turn up?”

“… I was just trying to help…“

“Thank you so much for your help, Ink.” Cross didn’t soften, turning to go. “I’ve got it from here.”

“C- Wait- CROSS!” But Ink didn’t try to follow. He knew it’d be pointless.

Their outstretched arm fell, their run after the other slowed to a stop as they watched him walk away. Watch him go. Leave them.

Something they were all too familiar with.

Alone. Left behind. Forgotten.

Chapter Text

“Please be patient with me. I am not going to be kind to myself this week.”

It was a crumpled note Nightmare had found, written in Cross’s handwriting.

It answered a lot of questions as to Cross’s strange, out-of-character behavior recently.

He had been snappy, less patient with Killers gags. Horror noticed his eating habits changed, opting to snack over eating bigger meals with them. Dust noted overthinking, uncertainty, uncomfortability when on missions with him. He had sensed a more anxious _____ coming from him as well.

Nightmare was going to confront him about it, but they didn’t need to now.

Cross must have written it, a rational part of him wanting to reach out and ask for help or a little bit of patience. But the intrusive part of him maybe thought he’d be a burden or be too needy. Things that weren’t true, but in the state Cross was in, he couldn’t have known that.

Nightmare sighed, taking the letter and going back to his office, planning to have a meeting with the others, relaying the message on Cross’s behalf.

They would ask the others not to mention it, but show it with their actions. Cross will tell them when he’s ready. But for now, they’ll just try to be as patient as they can.

Chapter Text

“Come quick!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“Tell me now.”

“That’s not as fun.”

“And I doubt whatever you have to show me is not as important.”

“Come on! Pleeeeaaaasseeeeee!”

“Don’t make me regret creating you two.”

“It will take approximately two minutes and 38 seconds to five minutes and 23 seconds depending on how you respond. What we’ve planned is around two minutes and 38 seconds but really how much extra time after that is up to you.”

“Fine, but no more than five minutes.”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir.”

“What is this?”

“It’s to celebrate our first year!”

“Year?”

“A measurement of time.”

“How do you keep track of time?”

“Uhhh…. we guess?”

“And why is this milestone important?”

“It’s a full year!”

“How is that so significant?”

“According to some universes, it’s like… a full spin around the sun!”

“The sun?”

“A source of light-“

“I know what a sun is, why is that relevant here?”

“Because-“

“You don’t like it. That’s fine. You can go back to work, you don’t understand.”

“That wasn’t even two minutes.”

“You don’t care, it’s pointless. To you at least, you do your boring work without us. We’ll have our fun.”

“My work is creating the entire, perfect world we will call home one day, I believe you wouldn’t call that fun but important.”

“You’ve been working on this so-called “future world” for so long, is it ever actually gonna be real?”

“Do not question me, either of you! Or I will give up, and leave you both in this endless, empty, abandoned space alone. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, if you need me for something important, come get me.”

“Come on brother, don’t cry. He just doesn’t understand.”

“We spent all day putting this up.”

“It doesn’t have to be all for him.”

“But it was! We counted down the days three weeks ago, all for him!”

“No, it was all for us. And if he can’t see that, then that’s his fault.”

“We rehearsed and rehearsed! You timed us for the best chance to even convince him! We tried so hard!”

“And we succeeded. We got him over, no?”

“But-”

“Are we gonna let him ruin our fun?”

“It’s not fun if it isn’t with everyone.”

“Is it fun if not everyone enjoys and appreciates it?”

“….. I guess not…”

“Now come on, it’s gonna get cold. Coooooome on up! Let’s go, don’t cry. Let’s go.”

“Ok, Chara, ok. Let’s go.”

“It’s been five years, right?”

“Huh?” Chara looked up at some of Cross’s friends, oh no, family. Found family, or whatever Cross called them.

“Since your AU got created, right?” Killer smiled, leaning against the chair Cross was sitting in.

“How… do you know that? Even I don’t know that!” Cross exclaimed.

“We have our ways.” Dust spoke, looking to Nightmare.

“Is it true?” Suddenly Cross’s eye lights were on him, looking for an answer.

“I don’t know.” He answered immediately. “Frisk was the one who always kept track.”

“Oh…” Cross’s face fell for a moment, before smiling again and turning to the others.

“Well, either way. We can say it is! Happy… uh… happy….”

“Five years!”

“Happy five years!”

Chara watched from the side. Though it was small, it was a celebration. And everyone laughed and smiled, celebrating with Cross, for something they didn’t know for certain. For something that didn’t affect them. For something that doesn’t even matter now.

For something that wasn’t important.

Yet still, as he watched them hit each other with balloons in the shape of a ‘five’ and list Cross’s five favorite things, Chara eyed them with envy.

“Nueve.” He muttered to himself. “It’s been nine years since the AU was created.”

Cross shot him a quick glance, before looking back, not hearing the other clearly and deeming it probably something insulting.

Chara stayed quiet, watching.

Remembering the day he and Frisk planned endlessly for the perfect day, the perfect moment, to celebrate a milestone they saw as the most important, wonderful, amazing thing in their newly created world.

Not a lot of universes made it, they had noted after travelling around.

But they made it. An entire year.

A whole cycle around a collective ball of energy, burning brighter than anything a person could create, strong enough it could kill beings that lived planets away, held tight enough it pulled ginormous objects and held it within its grasp for billions of years. Before eventually becoming too powerful, it implodes within itself and destroys everything in its radius.

How incredible was that.

But incredible wasn’t important. Important enough, at least.

But what did it matter now, years later, he hasn’t shown his face in forever. Hasn’t tried to ruin everything for them.

Because the milestone wasn’t important, but as the others pushed Cross around, encouraged to tell his stories and listened with intent, held him tightly as he reminisced on the years that have passed.

Maybe it wasn’t important, but it was fun. And wonderful. And amazing. And incredible.

No, it wasn’t as important as creating a whole world to live in forever.

But the fact that there was a world to begin with, a world that held a couple people that called it home already, a world that had survived an entire rotation around a star, a world that existed.

Maybe was more important than perfecting what was already home.

Maybe that was the most important thing.

Chapter Text

I’m tired

I’m angry

I’ve given in

I have to stay determined

Nothing changes

I have to do something

Why do you keep fighting?

Why are you giving up?

How do you keep fighting?

How can you just give up?

I want to be there for you

I need you beside me

With you

I can’t

Believe me, I do

On my own

But I can’t

Please

Keep doing this

Together

Over and over

It doesn’t have to

Why is it always

Be like this

Like this

Every time

Every time

It never changes

We can change it

It’s always the same

It doesn’t have to be

No matter how hard we’ve tried

This way

How can you preserve

I promise

When every time you do, it ends the same?

We can

I have tried, believe me I’ve tried

Do something

To do something for good

For good

For the better

For the better

But I can’t do it

But I can’t do it

Anymore

Alone

I can’t do it

I can’t do it

If it will only give the same ending

Without

Forgive me

You

Chapter Text

Cross stood alone on the roof.

Why he stood instead of sat?

Well, it was raining. Everything was wet. Besides, it was a better view this way.

Why was he alone?

The noise.

It was triggering for some of them, the others that could handle it were comforting them.

But Cross….

Cross wanted to see the fireworks.

He hadn’t seen them in a long time.

Chapter Text

“But you’re literally so trans coated.”

“I’m what?!?”

Cross looked at the others as Killer spoke that statement, confusion and frustration written all over his face.

“Trans?” Killer clarified.

“….Trans…?” Cross repeated.

“You know… when you identify as something other than your assigned sex at birth?”

“….what the fuck?” Cross’s voice grew, as he narrowed his eyes further. “How, may I ask, did you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh he’s getting formal, he’s upset.”

“Please, I am not-” there was a moment, Cross realizing he was in fact getting heated and taking a breath.

“I apologize- uh.. I am… shit… fuck- uh….” He cleared his throat, trying again. “Sorry… gang…?”

“Just speak Cross. Killer, shut up you’re making him self conscious.” Dust elbowed Killer.

“Look! Am I wrong!”

“Moving on!” Dust shoved Killer behind him. “You were saying Cross?”

“Okay…” he took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “Trans. How did… you guys conclude that I was trans?”

They looked at each other, trying to find an appropriate answer.

“Idk vibes???”

Cross gave Killer a look at their response.

“And what “vibes” give off trans?” Cross snarled at them. “Are you saying that I’m feminine?”

“No-!” Killer was quick to respond. “Not that being feminine is a bad thing but… uh…”

“Because you’re trans, you assume that I’m trans, even though you are constantly saying to not assume things about people?”

Killer stepped back down, looking away as they searched for an answer.

“Look,” Cross redirected to the other two in the room. “That’s… uh… great… that you think I’m trans. So sorry to disappoint, not trans.”

“It’s not a disappointment,” Killer tried again.

“I know.” Cross snapped, glaring the other back down. “I don’t owe any of you shit. Not in being trans at least.”

“I was created as a male, with masculine anatomy, and a male role ahead of me. Why he would choose to step out of line and away from the standard just to make a sans a female would simply be silly and an unimportant detail that I am for certain he was not focusing on.” He eyed the others carefully.

“And something I was certainly not and do not care about. For I had other pressing matters at hand, I do not believe at any point during the constant overwrites, the loss of my entire world, the chase to get that world back, and many more was I ever focused on a gender identity.”

“To be honest, I was most likely protected from that reality as I have not been informed about such a concept until I met you, Killer.”

“Protected?” Dust questioned the other.

“Misspeak. Apologizes, protected is not the correct term. Perhaps... shielded.”

”Sheltered.” Dust corrected.

“Sure.” Cross shrugged. “Sheltered from that sort of concept, even if I wanted to be curious or was trans.”

“You’re acting with a negative reaction,” Dust noted. “Is this a sensitive topic or…?”

“I am just frustrated that… you all.. thought I was something I am not?” Cross looked between them all for confirmation. Slowly, they all started nodding.

“Even when you all always say to never assume, you all assume I am not who I am because of ”vibes” and choose to tell me who I am instead of just ask or listen to me and who I know I am.”

“Well- no that’s not-“

“Were you not the one who told me, directly to my face, that I was trans? That I had to be trans?” Cross snapped and Killer. “That it fit me as if it were a coat without any regards to my beliefs or identification.”

“Well…” Killer drifted off again, Dust stepping up instead.

“Okay. I admit. Dick move on our end. But we have our reasons-“

“Excuses.” Cross butt in. “You have your excuses for being hypocrites and jackasses.”

“Look, Cross, if those are the only things about us you gotta problem with, I don’t think you’re focusing on the right things about us to hate.” Dust fought, moving closer to Cross, a finger stabbing into the other's sternum.

“It’s less the qualities,” Cross swatted Dust’s hand away, gripping it instead and pulling the other closer and creating more tension between all of them. “but the fact you would all try to tell me who I am, and assume what you believe as opposed to simply. Asking.”

“Some people, it’s a sensitive topic-“

“And that justifies never talking about it, bringing it up and communicating with the other person, and just assuming what you think is true?” Cross reiterated, biting back at Dust.

“Look, Cross,” Dust started, but he paused for a moment as he assessed the situation.

“What, Dust?” Dust looked at Cross for a moment, studying his face. Looked around at the environment, his brother, then to the others, and sighed.

“I say we continue this… conversation… another time when we are all not so.. tense or frustrated and defensive…” Dust stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets again and hiding further into his hoodie, assuming a more neutral position.

Cross’s sour expression didn’t shift, but he too eventually stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked at the others. “How mature. What an enlightened solution and choice to make. How high you must feel. How proud. How-“

“Cross.” In an instant, Cross’s collar was in Dust’s hands, and the gap was closed once again as Dust held the other, speaking through gritted teeth.

“You are in no way better than us. And we, no way superior to you.” He started. “What we did was a dick ass move and instead of trying to justify it, I want to talk about it and have a civil fucking conversation like mature fucking adults. Don’t get all pissy at me for trying to talk to you if that’s what you’re so vexed about.”

He pushed the other, Cross straightening back up as he found his footing. He looked at the three, they all glowered down at him, towering over him despite them being around similar heights. It felt like they were surrounding him, even as Killer fell into themselves, and Horror stood, passive and quiet as always. Dust spit out at him.

“I’m trying my damned hardest to keep these bitches settle, I’m trying to fucking listen. But this gotta be two ways or that’s not conversing and discussing. That’s just a recipe for a failed relationship.” Dust spoke in a rougher voice, no longer trying to stay calm or sugar coat seeing as Cross’s own attitude had slipped in his frustration.

“And I like ya Cross. I really do. We were just tryna respect ya in case our suspicions were true. Wait for you to open up ta us whenever you were ready.” Dust explained, shrugging simply. “But I get if that ain’t how you read it, but to then blow up on us does not make you any better than us. Got it, kid?”

“I am not a child.”

“Not the fucking point.”

“I say we cool off some steam, have a little nap, think about what was said and done, and come back once we’ve got some magic and sustenance in our system so we don’t get irrational and nothing gets outta hand.” Dust spoke slowly, eyeing Cross and monitoring their tone and his reactions. “How’s that sound?”

“…fine.” Cross snarled.

“Fine.” Dust bit back, with the same level of attitude thrown his way.

They stood for a moment before parting, a tension in the air as they did what they needed to cool down.

Chapter Text

“Cross are you-“

“Ten minutes.” Cross eyed Killer, sighing tiredly.

“Ten fucking minutes is all I ask. Five even, two, one! One singular fucking minute to not be okay. To not pretend like everything is fine. To not look on the bright side. To not always be the reasonable one. To not always have to be the bigger person. To make fucking mistales. To yell and get in trouble. To say what I want and scream. To lash out and cry and not be called a child when it’s all anyone else ever does.

Just one fucking moment where I can scream what the fuck is going on!? What the fuck do you mean your soul changes shape!? What the fuck do you mean that just casually, there is a literal being that is the embodiment of all negativity? What the fuck is Ink and what the hell is he? Why is Horror the way he is? How does Dust talk to his dead brother?

Why are there multiverses? How are there multiverses? How much shit is there that I don’t know? That you don’t know? That not even Nightmare knows and we are so clueless to it all we don’t even think to ask!?!?

What the fuck is anything at all! Why are we fighting? Where the fuck are we? Who the hell are any of you? Why do you do the things you do? What is the purpose to any of this?

And why am I supposed to act like it’s all fucking normal, because the world is moving so quickly I can’t stop to breathe, and yet the universe is infinite and is no where near the last stretch, and the multiverse is all that and more.

Just… one moment to be an angry, stupid, irrational little child and ask why. To not pretend like everything’s normal or it’s all gonna turn out so what does it matter? Because maybe it doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop the fact that it should.”

Killer looked at Cross for a moment, the other stopping to breathe after his outburst.

“Are you done?”

“No. But I don’t have a choice otherwise, do I?”

Chapter Text

“I admire you.”

“….what?”

Cross looked to Nightmare, simply doing his work and planning, having made the comment without even looking up.

“I admire you.” The other said, an easy, nonchalant tone in his voice.

Cross took a moment, processing what that meant and how to react. He stood up straighter as he put down the dishes he was currently washing.

It was after dinner, Nightmare didn’t want to eat and part from his work, so he took it with him to the kitchen as the others ate and cleaned up.

Now it was just him and Cross, the latter stuck with dishes duty for that night. Nightmare sat passively at the counter, silently working as the soft clanks of dishes and swishing water gave a peaceful ambiance.

Cross was fine with the silence, it wasn’t uncomfortable nor did it seem like there was a need for conversation. He knew Nightmare also wasn’t one for unnecessary conversation, he didn’t feel the need to make another comfortable in his large, overbearing presence.

So what was the purpose of the sudden prompt?

“….in what ways, may I ask?”

“You’re diligent and hardworking, in ways I cannot even comprehend or begin to imagine, let alone attempt.”

“You fight and practice and work, never taking a moment for granted. Yet you don’t let it consume you and ruin joy or fun or humor.”

“It is admirable, the way you live.” Cross stared at the other, trying to understand what he was saying and why.

“As well as the fact you live in constant fear.” Cross held his breath. What was that supposed to mean?

“And yet you wake up everyday and live it with no apologies. I know you fear, I know you worry, I know you suffer and yet still, your smiles are genuine, your laughs are true. Your annoyance is real, your critiques aren’t to harm. You are real, and when you don’t understand, you hide instead of lie, as if you don't even know how to lie. Which is true.”

“You are a terrible liar.” Nightmare spared him a glance, giving him a teasing look as Cross pouted, unamused.

“And part of me admires that too.” Nightmare looked back down at his plotting, joking set aside as if it was never there. “To perfect the art of lying is a bad thing. To be in a situation where lying is a survival skill, alongside fighting for your life, crying out to get attention, and shutting down to persist in a harsh reality.”

“There is more that I am intrigued by,” Nightmare continued, Cross turning back around to continue washing dishes, but waiting to hear what Nightmare had to say. “You are truly an enigma, Cross.”

”You show up from out of nowhere, with a man trying to perfect an entire multiverse by himself. You break out of such hold and make allies with the most feared and dangerous persons in the entire multiverse. And in only a couple years, you’ve worked your way past countless associates to rise as a third in command. The only thing the second surpassing you in is time and experience.”

“………. don’t tell Killer I said that.”

Cross smiled softly, stifling a laugh.

“I admire your work ethic, as well as your priorities. Your morale and determination. Your emotions and feelings. Your perseverance and spite.”

“How….. real you are.”

“You are as real as one can get. You hurt and you succeed. You fall and you run. You cry and you laugh.” Nightmare listed, collecting all his work and standing up. “And I admire your ability to balance it all so strategically imperfectly. You drop one and fuss over it. You drop them all but pick them up instead of moping. You keep them afloat and overthink it. You are so unbelievably true… it’s almost beautiful in a way.”

The words stuck in as Nightmare was about to leave, but he paused, thinking about his own words.

”Of course, not to objectify you or anything.” He clarified after a moment. “You are a living being, but you are as living as a being can be.“

“You’re saying I’m so painfully average, it’s impressive.” It was meant to be joking, but there was a hint of genuine in there as Cross couldn’t confidently say it all made sense and understood what the other said.

“I could be.” Nightmare shrugged, melting into sludge, seeping into the floor.

“Or I could not be.” Cross rolled his eyes, smiling as Nightmare’s voice rang through his skull, the other’s looming presence behind him.

“Well… whatever it is,” He picked up a plate and continued his chores. “Thank you.”

“I admire you in ways as well but, I assume you would walk away or shut me up in embarrassment if I started so, I will act humble and like I can handle these compliments perfectly but, you know I am overthinking every single one of the actions you just mentioned as now your compliments have turned into your expectations of me.”

“Oh you know me so well.” Cross didn’t flinch as a shiver was shot through him, gripping a spoon tightly. “I admire your ability to read right through to a person's true malicious intent, yet crave approval and fear abandonment so much so that you let it happen.”

“And I love how far you’ve fallen from the great mighty, oh so scary king you once were and try pathetically to be, despite how much we’ve grown on you.” Cross continued his mindless tasks, simply turning the water to a warmer temperature. “So much so you spend a measly, unnecessary meal with these subordinates. Mere vassals. And plan so hard to not only be most efficient, but respect our preferences and circumstances.”

“You’re lucky I admire you so much or else I’d have you locked in your own living nightmare for the rest of your days.”

“And you’re lucky the others are dumb enough to not notice as I respect you too much to tell them.” Cross turned the tap off, drying his hands. “Though I’m sure some already know, without me having to even say anything.”

“I won’t say who but,” Cross gave the other a mocking smirk. “We admire you too much to tell you.”

“Oh Cross, the thorn in my side, the pride to my prejudice.” The lights flickered , Cross expression never changing as it all went dark. “How you completely and utterly irritate the pleasure in my soul with your presence and being.”

“Well,” Simply waving the other and his antics off, Cross easily made his way around the room. “This prideful thorn must continue on with his day but, it thanks you for the attention and admiration.”

Nightmare’s sinister chuckling echoed throughout, but Cross just joined along, going about his day once more.

Chapter Text

“When was the last time you ate something?”

“This morning.”

“Something with actual nutrients and vitamins?”

“… I had an apple?”

Dust gave him a stern looking, Cross avoiding eye contact.

“I had dinner with you all yesterday, Horror cried last time I skipped, you know what I ate.”

Dust hummed approvingly, moving on. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night-“

“A full eight hours, two hours is not sleeping two hours is a nap.”

“It was five hours!”

“Let’s be real, it was four.”

“And you sleep when you nap, what do you mean-“

“You’re avoiding the question, Cross. When was the last time you had at least eight hours of sleep?”

Cross sat back, crossing his arms and pouting. He mumbled something incomprehensible, Dust shutting the other up, knowing the answer and knew the other was gonna spew out excuses.

“And when was the last time you took a break from training?”

“Dust, I just came back from the biggest solo mission Nightmare has ever sent any of us on in a while.”

“That could mean anything with you Cross.” Dust pointed out.

“And what does that mean!?”

“That either means you are exhausted and take the next week to rest, or you are hyped up on adrenaline and you don’t rest properly.”

“Well…” Cross tried to defend himself but Dust waved him off before he could even start.

“So, there’s your problem.” Dust spoke. “You’re sick and tired and weak and getting all mixed up because your magic sources are low, and your body is trying to react in a way to get you to use as little magic as possible to preserve the little magic you do have left after all the magic you’ve lost.”

“But I’ve eaten-“

“Magic doesn’t just come with food, Cross.” Dust cut the other off. “You know this, right?”

“It’s like a plant. Plants don’t just get energy from dirt, but also water and sunlight and air and they also need bees and butterflies to do their thing or whatever to grow even stronger.” Dust explained.

“You don’t just need food for magic, but sleep to process it and low stress to allow your body to feel safe enough to actually do anything other than purely ‘survive’ and then also because monster’s souls are made of love, indulge in hobbies and things you enjoy and things other than work.” Dust went on, making sure Cross was paying attention. They may already know all this, but it was a good reminder because it seemed Cross was well ignorin it.

“Even if you love your work, Killer loves swinging a knife and even still they take breaks for themselves and other things they like.” Cross tried not to groan or whine or pout, but it was hard. They were just tired and crabby and honestly felt like they could be doing anything else with their time right now. But no, his body had to go off and fail on him and shut down and get him sick and fatigued.

“Ok Dr. Let-me-tell-you-basic-monster-anatomy.”

“Physiology but- same difference.”

Cross glared at Dust who sat with Cross unphased. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, it’s all I ever do.”

“So what do I do, huh? I get dizzy if I stand up, I can’t even breathe right and I’m always tired everything aches, my head ache sucks. I’m freezing cold as balls and-“

“Nothing.”

“What!?”

“You do nothing.”

There was a moment, Cross just staring at the other trying to make sense of what we just said to him.

“Go to your room, lay in your bed, and sleep.”

“Horror will be more than happy to make you something to help your body and feel less like shit. I can communicate with Nightmare what is going on and I’m sure he’ll be understanding, like you said, you did just come from a big mission. Killer will keep you entertained, I’m sure, when you wake up.” Dust illustrated, alrighty walking Cross to his room. “And also draw on your face.”

Cross’s initial reaction was to fight back. But he thought about it for a moment, and he sighed, complying.

“Fine. I don’t really have a choice in this, do I?”

“You always have a choice,” Dust started. “But I think we both know which choice would be the helpful choice and which choice would be the spiteful choice.”

Cross, again, grumbled, but he didn’t fight against it, letting Dust lead him to his room.

Chapter Text

The other stirred, grabbing Dust’s attention.

Catching the others eyes as Cross turned over, Dust murmured in a soft voice.

“Are you awake?”

He sat next to Cross who was laying in bed. Cross’s bed shoved in the corner right across the door, Dust sat next to the head of the bed, leaning a chair against the far wall.

He watched as Cross muttered something before falling back asleep, eyes falling and blanket pulled closer into him, he didn’t realize the smile creeping onto his expression as he chuckled and turned his attention back to the scenery around him.

Cross’s room felt like… warmth.

Comfort. Childhood. Home.

Despite the lack of color, everything was so soft.

A large, soft, white carpet covered the middle of the floor, as if it were just a blanket Cross placed to act like a carpet. Tons of little strings and mobiles rained from the ceiling. Birds, butterflies, planes, planets dangled freely, Glow ‘n the Dark stars sprinkled and scattered over the ceiling, he remembers helping the other put them up.

The bed he currently lay in was unlike the others, sleeping in a bunk bed incase any of the others didn’t want to be alone yet needed space. The covers that lined the bed were big and soft and fluffy; swallowing you whole if you climbed in, wrapping you in the softest embrace you could ever imagine.

At the end of the bed, a bean bag on the floor, big and comfy to sink into on a rough day. On both bean bag and bed, stuffed animals littered everywhere, covering every surface. Pandas, bears, dogs, anything the other could get his hands on, anything he was gifted, he kept. It made birthdays and Christmas’s easy, just get him a stuffie and he’d be estatic, treasuring the gift with all his soul.

Next to Dust was Cross’s desk. Covered in papers books, pencils, and markers. Anything and everything sprawled across the desk, muffled sunlight spilling over from the drawn windows just above it.

Everything else in Cross’s room was neat and tidy, but his desk was an absolute mess. Dust didn’t know how Cross got anything down on it, but he had a feeling to Dust, the desk may be a disaster, but to Cross, it was all an organized mess.

Dust tried not to look, respecting Cross’s privacy and not wanting to snoop, but that didn’t stop Dust from gazing at the drawings around it.

Cross was the only one of them who draws, so it was always a surprise to see drawings and poems and posters taped up on the walls, most gathered in the corner where he placed his desk.

Across the desk was a small, make-shift gym. It was no surprise Cross enjoyed training, a punching bag hung from the ceiling. Surrounded by racks of weights and bands and whatever else Cross had collected. A training dummy or two also laid out and beaten, both well used and well taken care of in a strange Cross way.

Everything about it screamed CROSS! Not a speck of colors aside from sporadic drawings with scribbles of colored pencils or markers. Anything that could be was fluffy and soft, fitting perfectly with Cross’s everyday clothing choice. Lighting dim and warm with the artificial light not having seen use in years, natural and candle light being the chosen form of lighting.

It wasn’t one of the grand bedrooms the castle had to offer, they were all given a smaller room to ease them in and get used to living in such a big space and environment, but Cross chose to not move out of it, despite being there for around four years now.

Whenever anyone made a comment about it, he always refused the idea, saying “the space was unnecessary, the move would be inefficient, and he was content with the room he had already made his own.” The others let him have his preferences, understanding the other may not need the space and see it as intimidating like a certain glitch they knew.

But even now, Dust sitting next to Cross slumbering away peacefully, he could understand why Criss decided to stay.

Tight, warm, cozy. No where near claustrophobic and very far from empty. It was almost like snuggling up in a blanket, moments before you fall asleep. Dust didn’t understand how Cross managed to do this, but whatever it was he did, it was always like a warm embrace, walking into Cross’s room.

He remembered countless moments, endless nightmares, long nights making his way to Cross’s room, even before Cross had made it his own. It always held a sort of comfort and reassurance whenever he stepped foot in it.

He wasn’t sure what it was, the fluffy blankets, aesthetic room lighting, huggable stuffed friends.

There was a shift once more, catching Dust’s attention as Cross twisted in his sleep again, mumbling something under his breath, before going still and making Dust smile.

Maybe he did know what made the room so comforting…

Chapter Text

‘You’ve got this Cross. You can do this. It’s just Ink. It’s just Ink. You don’t remember exactly what happened, whatever Chara did seemed to mess up your relationship with him, but you can do better. You’ve got this.’

I sighed, eyeing the skeleton before me.

At first, I didn’t even recognize him. He seemed to change his outfit into a more simpler, comfortable design.

… did they have any shoes on?

It didn’t matter. This was Ink. I’ve seen the guy do weirder.

I took a deep breath, before stepping up and walking to him and start a conversation.

“Hey, Ink.” I tried to get his attention, which seemed to work as he spun around humming his childish, enthusiastic like manner.

“Oh, hi there!”

This was it, a moment a to repair a relationship and hopefully gain a powerful ally as well.

“I know we didn’t leave off at the best of terms, and I’m sorry about that. Everything really just got to my head and I got obsessed with this idea. I started blaming you and… that wasn’t cool of me. I was young and naive and traumatized and, though my feelings at the time were valid, it doesn’t excuse and justify the feelings it made you feel. I’m sorry, Ink. I really am. I don’t know what Chara did or what exactly happened between us but, I think… I’d like to be your friend again.”

I watched as Ink stared back at me, blankly.

‘Oh shit.’

‘I was talking too much. I stepped too far. I said too much. I said something rude and offensive to them. They want nothing to do with me. Whatever happened was unforgivable. They will never forget, I’ll never live this down, they’ll hate me forever-‘

“I’m sorry… who are you?”

“I-“ Holding his gaze for a moment, I shook my head, confused. “What?”

“Sorry, have we met before? I don’t have the greatest memory! I’m not good with names. Or faces. Or anything for that matter. I’m Ink by the way, happy to meet you!” They stuck their hand out, waiting for me to shake it.

After a moment or so, I grabbed their hand and continued with the formalities. “I like the new look.”

“Oh! Thanks! Honestly, not too many people have noticed tho-“ they laughed, knocking their head as if his Brian was scrambling and he was trying to knock it back into place. “It’s hard when most people you interact with are dead or hate you haha! I usually try not to interact with the alternate universes which, I guess doesn’t really matter now seeing its state.”

What… did Ink do while Chara was in charge?

“Yeah… you might hate me but… it’s a little bit my fault.” Ink laughed again, but it was more sheepish and embarrassed than before. They let go of my hand and continued to ramble on. Classic Ink. If I could say there was anything I did like about Ink, it was his charisma and character when talking. It was annoying, but more times than not, it was a noise I wouldn’t saying no to. Something I truly didn’t mind and… actually enjoyed fork time to time.

“I agreed to play this game with a friend of mine but… I don’t know. The game kinda sucks. Not as fun as I thought.” He mumbled, looking down and kicking a rock around with his feet.

“Uh… what?”

“Ooo. Said too much, didn’t I?” He laughed again after seeing my face in sure. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. “Sorry, haha!”

“Okay… um…” Did I really want this relationship back?

“I like your outfit too!” Ink changed the topic, taking a look at me and my old uniform, turned into a new outfit from its remains.

I looked away, feeling my face heat up from the compliment.

“Tho… I must admit it is a little… uh… camp.” Welp. That feeling is gone. “Very.. homemade and.. custom. Stylistic. Uh… I like it though. It’s good. I think it suits you… uh….”

“Hmm?” Ink trailed off, looking at me blankly.

“Sorry, didn’t think I caught your name.” They asked, almost as if guilty.

“You don’t remember me?”

“Uh…. No?”

“It’s… whatever.” I waved them off, stepping away and waving goodbye. “It was nice meeting you Ink.”

It truly was nice again. There was a lot I still didn’t know about what happened, but at least I could have an old friend by my side.

“Oh. Uh… nice meeting you too!” I smiled fondly, Ink waving back before getting distracted.

I sighed, turning around fully. But before I could fully walk off, I chuckled to myself as in the distance I could hear Inks voice echo throughout.

“FUCK! That was Cross again, wasn’t it!?”

Chapter Text

I was told to suck it up, even when I was too tired to get up.

I was told to ‘just breathe’, even when it hurt my chest to heave.

I was told to speak up, even when my throat was raw from coughing.

I was told to focus, even when my head was pounding.

I was told to push through, even when I was shivering with the flu.

But that was before.

Now…

Now I’m told to sleep, even when I’m bored of my room.

Now I’m told to do whatever I can safely do, even when I can’t do the simplest actions.

Now I’m told to chug piping hot, fresh tea, soothing my laughing throat.

Now I’m told to remember the medicine they went out of their way to get, just for me.

Now I’m told to not push myself, as I’m buried under piles of blankets.

I used to think I had gotten weaker, I couldn’t even fight through a simple cold like I had before.

Now, I realize I didn’t get weaker, I got safer. I got responsible. I got smarter.

I got respectful. I got respected.

I took care of myself, and in return my body took care of me.

Before, I abused it. I pushed it beyond its limits. I broke it to mold it into an unnatural state.

Now, I’m trying to heal it. Let it rest to recover from the pressure. I’m trying to mend what I bent into shape.

And it’s hard.
But not impossible.

And as Dust looked up from his book, having never left my bed-side ever since he convinced me to take a rest.

He caught eyes with Horror, who opened the door ever so carefully, holding bowls of hot, fresh stew he made.

He handed Dust a bowl, and set two on my desk, after seeing both Killer and I asleep.

Killer had held their tongue, laying their head on my bed as they watched me sleep endearingly. Quiet as they held my hand, swirling little shapes into my palm as if reassurance to my unconscious self.

They had fallen asleep, humming a soft tune subconsciously as their mind wandered and eventually drifted off. Dust watching over both of us until Horror came in.

It was never like this before.

Before, I would sleep because I passed out. And I would be alone when I woke up. I would make a quick meal, and then meet up with everyone on the training grounds.

Now I am lulled to sleep with a soft melody, and woken by the smell of warm, hearty soup.

I don’t want to compare, there are moments I do miss. Before everything happened.

Before the overwrites.
Before the memories.
Before the collapse.

Before I killed them.

Because I could see the sky, and feel fulfilled. I was doing good, and I was doing right. I could hear children laughing, and salute to peers around me. I could talk with strangers and open up about life. I could live like a citizen, and not a feared villain. I could be a part of a community, and live an almost normal life.

But there are moments like these, being read to by Dust’s soft voice, like a child I never got to be. Killer wrapped around me, entangling their limbs with mine, curling tighter as they snuggled into me. A comforting hug from each spoonful of Horror’s lovingly crafted stew.

Where maybe I do still regret it, but I can understand I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t do what I thought was best for me at the time.

Their deaths aren’t justified, but I refuse to do nothing but sulk about the unchanging past, the unchanging ‘before.’

As opposed to learning from those events and change my future. Change my ‘now.’

Chapter Text

“Nightmare…”

“Start without me, I have papers that need to be signed.”

“Who is he?”

Nightmare spared a glance over at Killer, before he turned his attention to the new soul he had in his hands.

“This one?” Nightmare looked at the smaller skeleton, dressed in all black and white. Their arms linked as he led him to his office.

“Yes,” Killer narrowed their glare. “Who is he?”

“Another soul, hungry and cold.” Nightmare answered simply. “Another being calling for help. My help. Another civilian of Hadestown. Your kingdom. Another fledging who has lost his song. Now under our wing.”

“I never asked for this.” Killers spit out, clutching the bottles in their hands.

“Ungrateful.” Nightmare sneered, turning away from Killer, towards his office once more.

“I thought a little break was what you wanted, after our last conversation. A little drink to forget whatever we were talking about. Whatever was worrying your paranoid little head.

I didn’t intend for that break to include you kidnapping up another innocent soul and endlaving-

Now now love. Watching your words. This fellow was on their deathbed. Abandoned by everyone they ever loved. I simply gave them a home. Food. Work. A life devoid of hardship and poverty.

They will starve and shiver no longer.

Nightmare…

At least they appreciate what I do for them. This is our kingdom I am building. The one I built for you. Full of klal my love for you. My desire, my despair, like an embrace embodied into how I know best to show love.

But at what cost does this love display? Who’s misery? Who’s suffering? I never asked for this! I never asked to-

“Have another drink why don’t you. You spend more time with the bottle than me these days it seems. You spree sit it’s company more than I. You drink for yourself. I build for us. For you.

Nightmare I-

Nonsense. There are papers to be signed.

——

“Mr. Fresh!”

“That’s my name.”

“That was a wild storm but, at least there was rain, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, have you seen Cross anywhere?” “I wanted to show him my drawing of those flowers he liked and-

Why… are we laughing?

You wanna know where Cross is?

Well… yeah.

Fresh held back a chuckle, resting his hands behind his head. That’s funny. What’s your next painting gonna be.

It’s gonna be on the storm clouds an the way the light came through- where is Cross.

That’s pretty cool, you sure do switch your muses quite often.

Where is cross?

Not too many colors in that one but, I guess it’s hard to find now a days-

Mr. Fresh. Where is Cross?

Why you wanna know?

Where ever he is is where I’ll go.

And what if I said he’s down below?

Down below?

Down below. Six feet under the ground below.

He called your name before he went but, I guess you weren’t listening.

No.

So, how far are you willing to go for him?

To the end of time. Past the earths

Chapter Text

“Hey… Kid.”

“What do you want, Sans.” The child spit out, snarling at the other who he was once so fond of.

“Oh. I’m sorry… Cross.” Cross narrowed their gaze, biting his tongue as he clenched his fist.

It seemed Chara was still not forgiving Cross for… “giving up.”

“Look, kid, I know you’re upset at me but-“

“But what, Cross?” He took a step back as Chara suddenly snapped at him, a hatred in his eyes. “Give up trying to console me or make me feel better.”

“Just like you’ve given up on everyone else.

“I didn’t give up I-”

“Abandoned them? Forgotten them?” Chara growled, closing the space between the two as he pressed a finger into his chest.

There was a moment, before Cross grit his teeth, pushing the other away. “Moved on from the fantasy of bringing them back. Face it, Chara. Nobody can but him.”

“I can!” Gripping his shirt, Chara cried out, glaring at Cross.

He was heated and upset, but looking at Cross now, there was a fear he could see in his eyes. It wasn’t anything new but, god damnit.

Cross had been doing so well. By himself. With the others. Without him.

Chara sighed, letting Cross go and floating back. He looked down, a mix of shame and annoyance written on his face.

“…we can.”

“I just need a physical body, I have the power to overwrite in my soul! You know this! If I could just-”

“Yes, but I also know the last time you were given a physical body, you stole the soul of an innocent child and tried to kill-” Cross started before Chara interrupted. He knew that even still, Chara wanted a host to inhabit, thinking it’ll help them reach all their goals. Thinking, like any other human, they can do it better. They will do it right. They won’t make the same mistake.

“I wasn’t trying to kill anyone. They were just… in the way.” Chara mumbled, crossing his arms and shrugging. “And who says that kid was innocent! Do you know how many resets and genocide runs that “child” had-“

“Not important! I just… Look. Chara… I…”

Cross took a breath, trying to calm himself down. It’s been awhile since he’d talked with his brother, he forgot how… tiring it could be, sometimes.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Chara turned back around, sulking again. “Whatever you say is going to be for you, not for me.”

“Maybe I’m mad at you for giving up, sure, but isn’t it enough that I let you live your new life with your new family in peace?” His voice was soft. You would think with how much time they spent together, Cross could tell if it was a genuine sorrow or his manipulative tendencies again. “When was the last time I bothered you, hmm?”

Cross sighed, deciding to mirror the others' attitude and attempted a softer, more heartfelt approach. I am.. thankful for that but… you’re my family too.”

He wasn’t sure if Chara’s pained look over his shoulder was real or something trying to tempt Cross, but he kept going on, a step towards the other, a hand reaching out.

“And I’m done trying to chase the past. Trying to get back what I had. Doing that just… hurt me.” He faltered, his hand clenching a bit is he looked down. “Hurt a lot of people.”

“Hurt you.“

“I miss them.. no doubt. Everyday.” His hand retracted, going to subconsciously fidget with the locket around his neck.

Chara narrowed his eyes. That doesn’t belong to you.

“I miss the days playing with my brother, training with Ms. Undyne, learning from Ms, Alphys.” It's been a while since he’s willingly thought back on it. Remembered the good. “At points, I even miss talking with… him. He… had his moments.“

“But- I’m not trying to get that back.” Cross was quick to shake his head, reaching back out to Chara. “What’s gone is gone and… I’ve learned maybe when people go… maybe it’s best not to…”

He thought about the endless timelines. The endless alternate universes. The endless Frisk’s. The endless Chara’s. The endless resets and save files. “…Try and play god and…”

He thought about Killer. Thought about Dust. “…Bring them back.”

“But I can-”

“Doesn’t mean you should!”

“I can kill myself, it doesn’t mean I should.” Cross cried, frustrated. “It took a long time to teach myself that.”

“Look, Kid,” Cross sighed, shutting his eyes as Chara turned to look back at Cross, hearing his outburst. “A lot has happened without you.”

“A lot of good, a lot of bad. A lot of growth, a lot of regression. A lot of learning, a lot of replacing. A lot of forgiving, a lot of getting used to things that made me uncomfortable. Things I didn’t understand. Things I had never heard of.”

“Things I could’ve never learned or seen or experienced in the shelter of our AU.”

Chara went to speak, but Cross held his hand up, looking at the other sadly.

“This is the last time I talk to you, if that’s what you want. I’ll ignore you, I’ll stop talking to you, I’ll…”

It hurt Cross to even say, even fathom the thought, knowing there wasn’t a day that goes by where he didn’t think about Chara. About his old AU. His old home. His old family. But, if that’s what his brother needed, he can try.

“I’ll try to forget you, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want…” Chara started, a firmness in his tone, before he took a second and breathed.

“…is my own body. My own home. My own family.” Chara spoke softly. It wasn’t spoken with spite like Cross felt like it should’ve, but sadness, maybe envy?

“You found your own, but I want mine back.”

“It was my home too.” Cross started, cursing at himself as his voice cracked. “But it’s gone. They’re gone. Do you know how long it took to move on? I still haven’t completely but, I know I should.”

“But just because I should, doesn’t mean I can.”

They've had this conversation countless times before. It’d be worthless arguing. They both got their point across. Cross was different, Chara was ever determined.

It wasn’t the first, nor will it be the last of a conversation of this topic. But, it’s one step closer to figuring out an ending that will hopefully be a happy one for both of them.

Chapter Text

“One day you’re going to have to learn how to do your own hair, brother.”

“I know I know,” Chara waved his brother off, pouting and looking to the side. “I will. Eventually.”

“I mean I can’t do it forever. What if there’s a time I’m not around, you barely brush your hair if I don’t remind you.” Frisk scolded, fingers sifting through his siblings' hair, weaving strands together in a delicate, intricate manner.

“I do brush my hair!” Chara complained, turning around to glare at his brother.

The other’s expression blank, only giving Chara’s hair a tug as his fingers got caught in a knot.

“Ow!” Chara winced, turning back around and crossing his arms.

“Whatever.” Chara mumbled, face flushing as Frisk chuckled behind him. “It’s not like you're going anywhere. I have time to learn.”

I stared at my brother. Those eyes were not his own.

“I’m not going to do your hair when you’re old enough to do it yourself.” Frisk sighed, tying the end so the braid wouldn’t unravel.

“Okay, how about you teach me.” Chara spun around, slamming his hands down on his legs. “Tomorrow. Teach me how to do my own hair.”

His hair tied up, like it always was. I had always cut mine, I hated taking care of it.

“Really?” Frisk spoke with doubt. “You want to learn?”

“Yeah.” Chara insisted. “If you’re “not always going to be there” or whatever.” Chara mocked, the idea preposterous.

I never wanted to actually fight with my brother. Maybe a tussle, maybe an argument. But he fought like he hated me, under his control.

“You can’t even tie your hair up yourself, you complain your arms hurt.” Frisk teased.

“Well- I’ll learn that too, then.” Chara pressed, determined.

“It's a silly excuse, not always going to be here. Where else are you going?” Chara laughed, frisk shaking his head with a smile. “But if you’re soooo worried about it. If you’re that annoyed doing my hair, I can learn.”

The golden locket around Cross’s neck and hazing, fleeting memories were the only thing left I had of my brother. I couldn’t even remember how to make a stupid ponytail look right.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” Frisk laughed, hitting his brother in the shoulder. “I’m holding you to that!”

“What? I can hold a spar with Ms. Undyne, you don’t think I can do a simple twist?” Chara joked, standing up and brushing himself off.

“No. I don’t.” Frisk slammed his brother, making Chara stumble. “Because you can’t hold a soar with Ms. Undyne without my help!”

It didn’t matter. I was a ghost now. My hair doesn’t grow. No way it was long enough to even try and tie it up.

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet!” Chara challenged, pushing his brother back and running to the door.

“Yes! Yes I do!” Frisk exclaimed, chasing after his brother. “I’m not always gonna be there to pick up your slack when you can’t stop swinging that knife around!”

“Ha! Not always going to be there? What’s gotten into you, Lil bro?” Chara couldn’t understand what Frisk was going on about.

How foolish. How naive. How hopeful.

“You never know!” Frisk spoke, catching up with Chara, running alongside him as they raced to the training grounds.

“Sure sure whatever.” Chara rolled his eyes, the conversation passing, as if it were nothing.

I was face to face with him. After… so long. These were not the situations in which I wanted us to meet again.

I never thought we’d have to “meet again.”

The thought of him neve being in my life never occurred to me.

Why would it?

How could I have predicted any of this?

Chapter Text

“I told you, I’m not hungry. Why do you need to eat this much anyway?”

“Step it up abit cross. Keep up applesauce!”

“Cross, careful…”

“Slow down, Cross, you’re overworking yourself.”

“I’m fine! I don’t need to rest, resting won’t do me any good when I could use that time to train and grow stronger.“

“Don’t worry, we got your back.”

“You shouldn’t have to get my back.”

“You’re so stiff, Cross. And predictable, you’ve gotta go with the flow!”

—————

“I CANT DO ANYHTING FUCKING RIGHT!” He cried, slamming his fist into the floor.

Nightmare just watched, unsure how to respond in such a situation.

“Why the fuck did you bother to offer me a spot in your group of misfits? I can’t even fit in with the misfits!” Nightmare held their tongue as Cross shouted about them as if they weren’t right there. They knew Cross was unbelievably loyal, but right now it certainly did not feel like it.

“What does it matter if I’m a royal guard, I’ll never be as cunning as Killer, as skilled as Dust, as strong as Horror.”

”I see the way they fight, they have a groove and flow that I-” Cross sighed once more, curling in on himself. “I just can’t- I just can’t match it.”

”I should be.” He grit his teeth, clenching his fists. “I should be able to.”

“I’m a fucking royal guard!” Cross spit out, going to stand up, but winced as he remembered why he was crumpled on the floor in the first place.

Trying to make his way to the kitchen, he left the med bay without telling or asking help from anyone. Determined to do it alone, despite his injury from the mission he went on with the others.

It was a big, important mission, hence why all four of them went.

But he got caught.

Caught in a battle with the Protectors and beat up badly, before the others had to go save him and fend the Protectors off.

Nightmare had sensed his torment and went to investigate. They found their subordinate collapsed on the floor, crying and yelling at himself. They’ve been watching, silently. Unsure what to do or how to help.

“I’ve trained for this and yet all my training is wrong. Everything I’ve ever fucking known is wrong.”

“Following what they taught me I became stiff and predictable.” Cross explained to no one in particular, unsure if Nightmare was even listening anymore. “Following their routine I lacked the proper nutrition and rest needed to do fuck all.”

“And yet still…” Cross was interesting, Nightmare noted, watching the others' behavior as his speech drifted off.

Rising, then falling, constantly. Upset, then heartbroken. Blaming everyone else, and then themselves. They weren’t sure if he was even aware he was doing it.

“Despite it all, I’m still too fucking slow. I have to be looked after, I have to be rescued. I have to be the fucking burden.“

“You’re not a burden.” They finally decided to interject.

“Then what the hell do you call this?” Cross gestured to his body, wounds and bandages littering his figure.

“Learning.”

“I’ve learned!” Cross shouted, getting up to bite at Nightmare, only to fall back once more.

“I’ve learned everything!” Cross seethed through the shooting pain. “I’ve learned what my magic is, where it came from and why. I was taught how to use not only my magic but my physical strengths and my emotional strengths. I’ve learned it all after they’ve spelled it into my fucking brain and yet-”

Cross paused, the reality sinking in as he realized how he was going to finish the sentence. He collapsed, falling to the floor as he felt tears pool at the edges of his socket.

How pathetic.
In front of his own boss too.

“Yet it’s all not enough. It’s too overwhelming for my pathetic little body, and I can’t keep up with them.”

“I can’t, boss. I’m useless. I’m useless to you. I’m sorry for wasting your time. Just throw me out and leave me to die. I’m worthless, I’m incapable, I can’t match up to them.”

“Cross, define perfect, for me.“

“What?“

“What is the definition of perfect?”

There was a moment, Cross trying to read Nightamre, figure out what they were tying to do.

Eventually, he gave in, answering.

“Something without flaws.“

“What do you consider flaws?”

“It depends.” Cross started, sitting up right in a way where the pain died down. “Things that don’t… make sense. Don’t work. A mistake on a painting. A chip on a knife.”

“What is a flaw in a person?”

“It depends.“

“On?”

“What they’re doing.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well, a person can be too talkative, someone can not get along well with others, someone can lack the physical ability to even complete the job, someone can be too wrapped up in their head to see the actual real problem, someone can-”

“What would you say are your flaws?” Nightmare asked, taking a seat in front of Cross, concluding this may be a long conversation.

“I’m subpar.” Cross answered, intrigued by his boss’s action, but following along. “I’ll always be second. There will always be somebody better than me. Everything I do, is a flaw, because it’s not perfect.”

“My precision is always off, Dream is better with his arrows. I don’t have a handle on my emotions and mental stability, Horror can hold his own and he has a massive chunk in his skull. My technique is lacking and predictable, like Killer said and proven as they’ve bested me many times and had to save me twice as much.”

”I can never relax, stop and take a moment for myself. I can’t accept things are wrong-”

“And, are flaws irreversible?” Nightmare interrupted again.

“…What do you mean?”

“Can someone unlearn these flaws?” Nightmare clarified.

“Well… sometimes.” Criss tried to think of scenarios in his head. These were very vague prompts. “Not always physically.”

“Then is it their fault if they can’t change it?” Nightmare kept going, trying to lead Cross down a path to understand where they were trying to get at.

“Well, no.” Cross furrowed his brow. “They don’t have control over that.”

“Correct.”

“And, is it their fault if they try to fix those things that can be fixed?” Nightmare asked.

“No. I don’t see why that would be a fault.” Cross thought about Nightmare’s question, debating if he heard it right. “It would be a fault if they recognize their mistake, and actively try not to fix it.

“Unless they had a reason, that just doesn’t make sense.” Cross shook his head, frowning.

“Are you trying to actively not fix your flaws?”

“…… I’m trying, but everything I do-”

“But are you trying?”

“…. I guess I could be trying harder-”

“Can I ask you what you were doing this morning?” Nightmare tried again, tackling the situation from another angle. Stars above, Cross was a sad, easily-manipulated, self-loathing sack of bones.

“….stretching and preparing for the mission.”

“And after the mission?”

“Sparred with Killer.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I got tripped up on that mission and I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to-”

“And what did I walk in on you doing right now?”

“……try to leave and make a snack for myself?”

“What does that sound like to you?”

Nightmare internally groaned as Cross’s face was shrouded with confusion, trying to find any connecting lines or understand hints.

“…. I’m not sure I understand.”

Nightmare bit his lip, sighing deeply as he shut his eyes tight, trying not to show too much annoyance or disappointment. Cross was so smart and so capable. And yet so dense at the same time.

“Would somebody who is actively trying to avoid fixing every flaw they believe they have, do all of those things?”

“Well… they could be doing more-m”

Like?

Instead of just sparring with Killer, soar or ask about other techniques from others to get a wider variety and assets. As well as not only stretch but start planning ahead to ensure a plan that won’t fail and go by without any hiccups.”

So why didn’t you do any of those things?

Because-

Because at the time, in the moment, of course you were not looking back on the mistakes you haven’t made yet.

—————

“We’re not that different, you and I.”

“What do you mean?” Cross eyed Killer, suspicious of what the other was up to.

“Something that I’ve noticed about every sans I come across, is having to grow up a lot sooner than they should.” Killer explained, casually.

“… what do you mean?”

“Cross, how long have you been in the royal guard?”

“What does it matter to you?” Cross sniped back.

“You were young, weren’t you?” Killer spoke, unaffected by the others tone.

“What do you care?” Cross growled through clenched teeth.

”A kid shouldn’t have to go through that.”

“You’d do anything for your family, just like I would’ve done anything for my brother.” Cross watched Killer carefully, their expression yet to change from that nonchalant smile, yet their tone had… shifted. “I did do anything for my brother, that’s why I am the way I am now.”

“You fight for approval, we fight for survival.”

The words sunk into Cross as he took a step back. Killer wasn’t even threatening him in this moment. And yet, there was a fear, rising in him, spreading from his chest as it tightened. Such mere simple words made it hard to breathe as Killer saw right through him, nailing every single thought and feeling running through his mind.

“They’re two different types of motivation.”

“But doesn’t that make you all-”

“You can’t measure pain and suffering, that’s not a thing.” Cross tried to interject, but Killer was always more cunningly witty than him.

“We didn’t suffer more than you, you didn’t struggle less than us.”

“The only thing you can really judge,” Killer stepped closer to Cross, locking the others gaze in their own. “Is how hard someone fights through the struggle.”

“And you fight, Cross.” Killer cocked their head to the side, their glare piercing. “You fight. Hard.”

“That’s something I’ve noticed about you.” Killer chuckled, it was ominous in ways Cross didn’t understand. Why was he so tense? Wasn’t this Killer trying to comfort him? So why did he feel so… “You fight with every part of your being.”

“The different types of struggle doesn’t make your pain any less painful or any less real.”

“Doesn’t make your worth any less.” Cross narrowed his eyes, they words supposed to be comforting but said in the most menacing tone. Was this just Killer being Killer, or was there a deeper meaning to this? Were they being condescending or…?

”Why are you telling me all this?” Cross asked through gritted teeth.

“Like it or not, Cross,” Killer made sure to hold his attention. Making sure he heard every word they had to say. “You’re one of us now.”

“Whether you like it or not, whether we like it or not, you're part of our little group of misfits.” Cross breathed as Killer stepped back, playing it off as they chuckled, shrugging.

“And I can’t speak for you, I can’t speak for Dust, or Horror, or Nightmare, I can only speak for myself.” Killer went on, spinning their hand, strangely moving back to a playful character. “And let me say, you’re good, Cross.”

Suddenly, that silly display was gone.

“You’ve got so much potential in you, you’ve got so much, put together. Sure physically, we’re “superior” sure mentally we’re quick and witty and click well together, but you.”

Chapter Text

“Well… maybe you aren’t real but… the feelings are real, aren’t they?”

“What?”

Cross furrowed his eyes, looking at Dream as he was curled up, back against the tree they made for XGatser in the Omega Timeline. The little, purple flowers under his weight, rim lighted by the glow of a familiar presence.

”You still feel them, right?” A voice echoed throughout his mind.

“Well… what do my feelings matter? It’s a feeling I feel, sure. But what do I matter?”

“I’m not even real.”

“But the feelings are.”

“What about my feelings?” Cross crued, snarling at the blinding ball of light. “How can my feelings be real if I’m not even real? I feel it. It feels real to me. But if I’m not real, what do I matter?”

“What does the world matter to you, you’re real.”

“What?” Cross had noticed Dream was very old style and spoke in ways he couldn’t quite understand or grasp. Poetic and abstract with their words, but he knew whatever they said always held some sort of meaning.

“You are your whole world. You will never be somebody else’s whole world, whole life, because they are their own whole life.” Dream explained, Cross still not understand what the other was on about.

“What makes you any less real than the world we inhabit?” The glowing light floated around Cross, illuminating the world around him. “The feelings you feel are proof you are as real as anyone else here.”

“People get created and then they die. Language moves and changes. Stars burn and then explode.” The light stopped to float before Cross, as if staring into his soul. “You were created, and you can be changed. You can disappear in an instant, you can be altered with a snap of a finger. You are a mere idea and thought, projected into a physical being. “

“But at the end of the day,
Isn’t that what this world is?”

“These flowers are real, despite them being created not too long ago, by a single snap and will of mind.
This world is real, despite it being the wish of one young child and a result of their determination.
Its inhabitants are real, despite them being a person's desire for a concept to exist, who’s original homes could be destroyed in a single pull and tear.”

“You are real, even if you are not. Because if you say you are not real, then you must say the entire world we exist in is not.“ Looking down, his hands were presented. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he could move his hands. Waving them through the flowers, he could feel the soft petals grace his palms with a touch. The physical feeling he knew must be real. “If you are going to compare yourself to what you believe is real, then you must challenge what ‘real’ is.”

“To me, you are real.
If to you, you are not, then what does that make me?”

“Am I real?”

“If I believe you matter, does that mean I don’t matter?” There was a genuine curiosity in the echoing voice, Cross couldn’t tell if Dream was being genuine or rhetorical. “Or does that mean you matter more? Does that mean you’re more real if I believe it so?”

“You may believe you aren’t real, and your feelings don’t matter.”

Their light blinding, they radiate warmth and comfort, a mere being of energy and essence of emotion couldn’t possibly care this much about him?

“But I can feel the pain, the hurt, the hope, the pride. And if I must accept you believe you are meaningless, then you must accept I believe you have as much meaning to this world as any other being that has the honor to share this plane with you.”

———————

“You’re like- a work of art!”

“What?”

Cross looked at Ink, confused.

Here he had just poured his heart and soul out to Ink, expressing how he felt so…. pointless.

Meaningless.

There were thousands of ‘him’s. Thousands of ‘sans’s.

He was a mere idea that could easily be overwritten and reset in an instant.

He was… nothing.

And now here Ink was… ignoring all of that to talk about art?

“Are… are you trying to flirt with me?” Cross eyed the other weirdly, leaning back as Ink had jumped up after hearing his woes.

“No I’m aroace,“ Ink started, moving back themself and going on a tangent. “A lot of people seem to forget that about me I’m not exactly the biggest fan and I draw those things for anatomy I don’t actually want to- Anyway-”

It would always amaze Cross how distracted and spontaneous Ink get’s, unsure how they ever finish an art project without the focus.

“That’s besides the point.” Ink got back on track. “You’re like a work of art!”

“Uh… explain?”

“Well, art is pointless.” Ink explained. “It’s just paint on a thing. It’s words put together in a specific way. It’s noises that sound nice.”

“You’re just… a character.” Ink gestured to Cross, spoken in a tone Cross couldn’t exactly place, unsure if it was supposed to be comforting or mocking. “The same as anything else.”

“But that paint mixes together in a way that creates the most breathtaking picture, that captures the essence of life and feeling in a way that just one look can stun someone in their spot.”

“And those words can conjure emotions so powerful it moves nations to change, and people to hoard, and voices to be heard. Break someone down to pieces or build them up and break free anew.”

“And those silly noises can emulate words no language can even begin to fathom to create. Communicating beyond communication, nothing but pure wavelengths that can alter a heartbeat and brain chemistry to remember the forgotten, to express the repressed, to connect the detached.”

You’re nothing. And you're everything. You’re just like everyone else, but nothing like anyone I’ve ever known. You are pointless, and meaningless, and you hold so much power you impact everyone and everything you come across and interact with.

You are a work of art.

Absolutely nothing to the world.
And completely everything to anyone.