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Susie is never letting Kris run off on their own again. This thought is all that fills her mind as she looks ahead to the mechanically mutilated effigy of the strange salesman that stands before her. She lunges to the side, narrowly missing a blast of incorporeal light.
“Kris!” she shouts. “You okay?!”
Kris is a ways off to her side. Their face is twisted inwards, brow furrowed. They look as if they’re on the verge of vomiting. Despite this, they stand strong, launching some sort of warm-tinted bullet of light towards the abomination ahead of them. Unknown nature aside, the bullets seem to be inflicting damage, if the angered screams of that thing are anything to go by.
The creature — could one call it a creature? — speaks, its voice itchingly reminiscent of grinding metal. “IT’S CALLING, KRIS… MY [Heart]... MY [Hands]...” Its head drops to the side as a string is cut, bouncing limply as the machine shakes. “KRIS! CAN YOU REALLY LOOK IN MY [Eyes] AND SAY NO!?”
Kris's shoulders shake. “I’m… not…” Their voice scatters as it’s lost to the wind.
The machine laughs; the sound is wet and gnashing, like it originated inside a tin replica of a chainsmoker’s lungs. Susie winces. Her grip around her axe tightens.
Ralsei shouts from behind her, gripping his scarf as it threatens to flutter away. “There’s only a few strings left, Kris!”
Kris's posture goes rigid. The look of mortification stays imprinted on their face as several large blasts of light fly towards the machine. Susie can hear a vague slurry of mechanical chatter — something about freedom? Heaven? — yet it falls flat, a mere distant echo as her focus remains rapt on the white-knuckled fist held at Kris's side, on the small stream of blood trickling out from their palm.
Several blows are traded, several strings are cut, until a lone survivor remains, clutching the machine from the crown of its back. It thrashes, wild and restless. It reaches towards them — towards Kris — with smoking arms. In the brief glances Susie catches of its face, it seems surprised with each motion. An eerie familiarity scratches against the recesses of her mind.
“KRIS,” it cries.
Kris flinches. They ready their sword for the final blow. Simultaneously, they look more defeated than Susie’s ever seen before.
“KRIS!” it wails, opening its arms with apparent struggle. Viscous oil begins to spill out of its every orifice. “YOU… YOU’RE [Gifting] ME MY [Freedom]?!”
Susie glances over to Kris. They look as if they’re about to cry. Their stance doesn’t falter.
“KRIS… AFTER EVERYTHING I DID TO YOU…?!” The machine's words descend into an indecipherable clatter of steel and wiring. Kris still winces at each line as if it's tearing them open from the chest out. With a shaking voice, heavy with dread, they call out to the party. The scene changes, Kris's sword swings, and the final string is cut.
At their feet lies the smoldering remains of a salesman. His charred face sits atop the pile, a look of euphoria permanently chiselled in its features. Susie hears the distinct click of Kris's boots behind her as they retreat from the scene. She spares a final look to the rubble before turning on her heel to hurry after them.
The heroes regroup in Queen’s mansion. Aside from Susie’s brief rescue mission detour, the rest of the adventure goes by in a blur. She can’t manage to be too upset about this, though. After all, Noelle’s safe. Alongside Berdly, of course, but he was easily set within the category of secondary priorities.
Now, back in the Light World, she stands alone in Kris's kitchen. She can hear the dull roar of the faucet still ongoing through the ochre walls. Perhaps it’s just Toriel’s brief absence causing time to tick by slower, but she’s almost positive that it shouldn’t take this long to wash one’s hands.
She groans, sliding to a seat against the door. “Hey man, you get lost in there?”
Her words are met with the undeterred flow of water. Susie sighs.
“If this is about that salesman guy, then, uh…” She chews at her lip. “Look, that guy was freaky. I don’t know what he said to you before we got there, but he’s clearly got some screws loose, so… well…” With a shaking inhale, she scrapes her claws through her scalp. “I guess I’m just trying to say that maybe you shouldn’t put too much weight in the bullshit he was spewing, or something.”
A pause.
“Who am I kidding, that guy was fucked.” She hits the back of her head against the door, wincing at the sharp thud of her skull against wood. “The way he crumpled, it was almost like…”
Susie huffs. If she listens closely, she can almost hear a faint rustling outside. Toriel’s likely to return soon, she figures she ought to wrap whatever this spiel is up.
“I guess what I’m really trying to say is–”
A crash, followed by a low groan.
“Dude, what are you doing in there?” She attempts a chuckle, but the sound deflates in her throat. “I mean– anyway, my point is, I don’t understand why you wanted to face that freak alone, but… I care about you, man. Me and Ralsei — we both do.”
She can’t help but smile as she hears Kris rustling about on the other side. “We’re a team, we do shit together.”
With that, she pulls herself up to a stand, making her way back to the kitchen. Toriel soon returns, quickly followed by Kris's reappearance. Their posture is stiff, robotic. Out of the corner of her eye, though, Susie catches the occasional glimpse of pink dusting their cheeks.
With all pie-related ventures tabled for tomorrow, Kris and her settle into the couch for a good old fashioned movie binge. She watches Kris, the screen painting their face a pale blue. Her senses begin to dull as the day’s activity weighs heavy against her bones. As her mind fades to unconsciousness, she almost thinks she can see Kris turn towards her, a wobbly smile adorning their face as they tuck a throw pillow beneath her head. Before she can truly register the sight, sleep takes its hold.
Amidst her silent slumber, she’s startled by an incorporeal gasp accompanied by a grotesque squelch. She hears the faint pad of footsteps against carpet, and then, the world gets ear-achingly loud. Before she’s able to discern if the ringing is encompassing her or wailing against her skull from the inside out, it’s gone, and all is silent once more. She cracks open her eyes, but they’re met with nothing but darkness. In her sleep addled state, she wonders if they ever truly opened at all.
Distantly, as if her nerves are trapped behind glass, she feels a weight settle on to her chest. Something nuzzles its way beneath her neck, ticking the underside of her chin. Instinctively, her arms enclose around the weight, hugging it closer, closer, closer, until the smell of apple makes its way to her subconscious.
With that, Susie chases the warmth of the aged cushions, and the waking world once again falls away.
Predictably, the sleepover doesn’t go exactly to plan. Susie mourns the half finished pie as she and Ralsei engage in a silent race of who can melt further into the couch. Susie’s pretty sure that Ralsei is unaware of this race, but nonetheless, she’s confident that she’s winning. Ever since the green room got encased in the strange, incorporeal snow, all of the TVs no longer seem to work. Thus, couch race it is.
“Kris has sure been gone for a while, huh?”
Ralsei jumps when she speaks, twisting and untwisting one of his scarf’s tassels around his finger. “Ah, well–! I’m sure they’ll be back soon! Whatever they’re doing is — probably — pretty important.”
Susie groans. “Dude, it’s been like twenty minutes. I’m just gonna go get th–”
“Wait!” Ralsei presses his hands to her knee. “As I said, what they’re doing is probably pretty important, so we really shouldn’t interfere!”
“What if it’s like the Cyber World again? They could be fighting someone like that spammy guy–”
“Spamton.”
“–that Spamton guy again.” Susie picks at the couch, watching as the rough fibers fray beneath her claw. “They could be in trouble.”
Ralsei sighs, looking towards the counter with pointed eyes. “They’re safe, I promise.” Then, as if reading off a script, “We shouldn’t interfere.”
Susie follows his gaze, only to find nothing there aside from a single soda can sitting atop the wood. Even the odd shopkeeper had vanished sometime during the commotion.
“Ugh, screw this,” she grunts. She slides out of Ralsei’s grasp and rises to her feet, pocketing the soda. She leaves whatever meager change she can find in her pockets on the counter in its place. “I’m gonna go get ‘em. You can twiddle your fingers here, if you want.”
“But, Susie–” Ralsei is cut off by the S-Rank door swinging shut behind her.
When Susie finds Kris, she’s unsure whether they are safe. They seem physically unharmed; though, she’s admittedly a bit distracted during her assessment. Regardless, something is certainly wrong. In the way their hands are wound tight around her jacket, in the way their shaking heaves fan hot air against her neck, in the way their eyes scour the room behind her as if there’s an impending doom evident in the nondescript walls, it’s clear they’re distressed. Despite the unknown cause, that much is blatantly clear.
However, in her current predicament, she finds it a bit difficult to devote her full attention to unravelling the source of their condition.
“Uh…” She murmurs, and Kris's gaze snaps up to her. Their eyes are wide; with how close they are, she can see each furrow with alarming clarity. She watches with rapt fascination as the fearful look in their eyes ebbs away, shrinking back to the borders of their iris. It never truly disappears, but it’s diluted with a newfound warmth seeping out from the pupil. A creeping pink washes over their face.
Susie mutters something stupid, the words automatic as she shoves Kris's face into her hair. The world sounds as if it’s underwater. All she can focus on is the burning sensation of Kris's fingers still wound taught at her chest.
They part abruptly as she pushes Kris away by the shoulders. She hands Kris the half-empty soda, watching as they examine it before chugging the liquid as if they’d never be able to drink again. A joke sits on her lips, some callback to the water fountain on that day that started it all, but her thoughts are silenced as Kris steps forward. She catches a glimpse of cool red beneath the shadow of their bangs as they swing a tattered shred of black fabric around her neck. They fasten it with such care that that her heart feels as if it could explode out of her chest before settling back into their typical tension. With obscured eyes and pressed lips, they shuffle past her and exit the room.
The look in Kris's eyes haunts her throughout the hours to come. It’s pushed aside in moments of danger, but it always returns like an incessant stray.
The next time she catches sight of it is in church. The stickers on their face crinkle as they laugh. They’re quiet, carefully so, as to not alert their mother of the duo’s shenanigans, but each snort still echoes throughout Susie’s mind as if someone was wailing on a gong shaped like her skull. She’s laughing too, with a similar caution; however, when she catches a glimpse of that familiar mirth, she suddenly can’t find it in herself to mind who hears.
Luckily for the both of them, none of the congregation seems to care all that much. Church ends without fuss. They gather their intel, avoid eye contact with Asgore, and complete their daily ritual of examining every nook and cranny of the town as if it had all completely changed from how it was yesterday.
Now, they sit in the diner, antsy with hunger and the thrill of mild theft. Kris sits across from Susie, staring at their hot chocolate with demanding eyes as if that would make it cool down any faster. Every now and then, they’re emboldened to take a sip, only to burn their tongue on the steaming liquid. Susie laughs at them each time. She’s starting to get the itching feeling that they’re taking that as encouragement.
Susie plows through her own food, only pausing when a single bite remains. She scoops it into her spoon, waving it lazily through the air. “Hey Kris, want the last bite of my sundae?”
Before she can turn heel on the offer, Kris nods frantically. She can’t stop the laugh that tears free from her throat. “Geez, okay, if you want it that bad, then I guess–”
Kris cuts her off, biting down on the outstretched spoon as if they’re trying to eat the metal. With their typical dietary habits, Susie can’t bring herself to outlaw the possibility. Not that she can judge — spoons do seem quite delicious.
Kris settles back into their seat, melting into the acrylic booth as if they’re contemplating falling asleep right then and there. Their head turns. They stare through the diner’s window with a stern look of contemplation. Seemingly making up their mind, they lean forward, breathing against the window until the view is entirely obscured. They begin drawing on their self-made canvas. Susie watches as a crude rendition of her takes form against the fogged glass.
“Is that me?” she huffs beneath a laugh. Kris nods, the smile that’s adorned their face since they sat down only growing wider.
She presses closer to the window, giving the picture of her company. “Here, it’s you. Whaddya think?”
Kris tucks their hair behind their ears, leaning closer to examine her work. Their eyes crinkle until only a thin slit of red is visible. “Looks bad chief.”
“That’s because I’m drawing from life, dumbass!” Susie sharply retorts.
Kris cackles as they lightly kick at her shoe beneath the table.
“Y’know,” Susie hums, picking at the corner of her napkin. “It’s weird seeing you in such a good mood.” She looks at where their finger meets glass. They’re writing something, the letters obscured behind their sleeve.
“Good weird,” she amends.
Kris acknowledges her words with a quick flick of their eyes. Their finger stalls, bleeding away the condensation in its perimeter. “‘S just nice to spend time together, I guess.”
“What the–?!” Susie laughs incredulously, a burning sensation crawling up her neck. “Dumbass, we spend time together every day, don’t we?”
Kris doesn’t reply, simply looking at her for a moment — scanning her face for something — before they turn back to the window. A moment later, they finish writing, and press their hands into their lap.
“Kris was here” is written in wobbly letters. The words bleed, already dripping into obscurity as the fog clears. Susie snorts. “Isn’t it kinda stupid to mark your territory where it’ll fade away in a few minutes?”
Kris shrugs. “It’s fine, as long as someone saw it.”
As much as she wishes it could, their time at the diner can't last forever. Soon, heroic duties call, and the pair has to make their way to Noelle’s house in search of answers.
Susie now sits in the mansion’s only room that doesn’t make her nervous of tainting the pristine flooring with her less-than-pristine sneakers. The bed her and Noelle lean against is notably unkempt. If it weren’t for the thin layer of dust, Susie would think that someone had just rolled out of it. She hears Kris knock something over from within the closet and rushes to fill the silence. “So — uhhh — what happened next? In your dream.”
Noelle flusters, twirling a curl around her finger. “Umm, so we were all riding on roller coasters…” Her eyes dart to Susie, then back to the carpet. “And you, Kris, and this boy were there…”
Susie nods along. There’s another clatter from the closet. God, what is Kris up to?
Luckily for her, Noelle prattles on, either unbothered or unaware of the commotion.
“–I ended up being in this large city with Kris. What was interesting was that… Kris just…” Noelle lets her head fall back against the violet comforter. “Kris just acted not like their normal self? They acted just like they do recently, I guess.”
Susie sits a little straighter. “Like they do recently?”
“Yeah, uhh…” Noelle laughs, winding the curl around her finger tighter and tighter until her finger tip is white. “It’s probably nothing, fahah — just, their voice… it’s like it’s on speaker, or something.”
“Sounds like normal Kris to me,” Susie grunts, though clips of their voice mere hours before — more expressive than she’d ever heard it, weighted and melancholy, mirthful and humorous — prod at the corners of her mind
Noelle’s smile drops. “Well, it’s not.” She glares into the floor as if it personally wronged her. When she looks up to Susie, though, all of the animosity melts away. In its place remains a piercing look of worry. “Something was — something is — weird.”
The closet falls silent. Susie chews at her lip. Noelle slips back into a cheerful smile with practiced ease.
“Anyway…” she continues on, leaving Susie behind in the dust.
Things get messy after that. Susie’s palms burn where they held the guitar, stubbornly throbbing against the onslaught of rain. Kris walks ahead of her, brown hair turned black, sticking against their neck like shrinkwrap. Susie breaks into a light jog until she reaches their side.
“Hey, so…” She rubs the back of her neck. “Noelle said something weird earlie–”
“Did you mean it?” Kris looks up at her, eyes barely visible through the cascading water tumbling down their bangs.
Susie sputters. “Mean what?”
“The festival,” Kris mumbles. “That you’ll take Noelle.”
“Er– uh… yes?” Susie’s pace slows. Kris keeps their eyes locked with hers. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? Sounds fun, yeah?”
“Yeah,” they whisper, the sound hardly audible over the pattering rain. “Fun.” Their posture straightens. A smile ebbs across their face, one that doesn’t seem entirely their own. “I’m happy for you two.”
A few hours and a Dark World later, Susie experiences Kris in their element for the first time. Suddenly, the meaning of Noelle’s words comes into view.
The piano is grandiose beyond description, with spiralling towers of teal winding away into the darkness. Keys of ivory shimmer with a nearly painful glow. The surroundings seem to wait with baited breath as the piano lays idle, giddy with anticipation for the taking of its first breath. Kris, the instrument’s beating heart, sits at its center. With a breath of their own, they press their fingers to the keys, and the world comes to life.
Something in Susie’s mind still aches at the familiar timbre, but with the sorrow of Kris's song filling her ears, it’s not long before the only thing she can think of is the present melody. It’s heavy, pointed, filled with spite and dread all the same. Kris hits the keys with an attack one moment and an apology the next. They dance alongside the music, swaying at the waist like a flower caught in the wind. Their movements hold a fluidity that Susie’s slowly beginning to recognize.
Alas, as Kris sinks into the keys, as they crumple further and further until Susie fears they may never get up again, the song concludes. It echoes throughout the void. Somewhere, something has changed. A path has opened, a door has unlocked. Yet, Susie stays, eyes locked ahead of her.
Kris slowly makes their way to a stand. It’s clunky, like a doll being manipulated one joint at a time. Their elegance mere seconds prior seems to be long forgotten.
When they turn towards her, a smile held tight in their lips, Susie’s stomach twists.
As seems to be the trend, Susie’s worries are bid off by more pressing concerns. The titan’s silhouette still swirls against her eyelids every time she blinks. If she stares into the water beneath her for long enough, the waves melt into wings reaching towards her.
She shakes her head.
“Crazy night, huh?”
Kris replies with a low hum. They’re slouched next to her, knees held tightly to their chest. The wind rustles their hair. Every now and then, it gets caught between their lips, resulting in the humorous display of them attempting to spit it free while Susie cackles at their struggle.
Kris hadn’t spoken a word since they got there. Not that Susie minded, of course. It was understandable. After the fiasco at their place, she had come here because she had nowhere better to go. Minutes later, they had shown up because they had nowhere else to be.
Thus, Susie’s left to do what she does best, and fill the silence. “If I’m being honest, I thought we were goners for a minute there.” She lays back on her palms, watching Kris's hunched frame in her periphery. “Between the Knight and — Christ — a fucking titan, I wasn’t too sure we’d make it out.”
Kris's shoulders stiffen. Susie watches as they take a breath, holding it for a second, two, before exhaling and laying down beside her.
“But hey, that's the Shit Squad for you,” she laughs. Kris joins with a small chuckle of their own.
“Anyway, pretty sick we kicked that titan’s ass.” She frees one of her hands, holding it up beneath the stars. With her claws outstretched, she imagines the cosmos wrinkling beneath her grasp. “I bet the Knight’s pissing their pants — their armor? — at the thought of facing us again.” Her words trail into a low yawn.
Kris snorts. “‘M sure.”
Susie breaths a sigh, the crisp air of the waterfront travelling through her sinuses and cradling her exhausted mind in a delicate embrace. She wishes desperately to fall asleep here, to awake to warm sun, low waves, and October leaves. Alas, as sluggish as she feels, her head burns with an incessant reminder chaining her to consciousness. She exhales. The world seems to follow her example, breathing out the ambient sway of night as it settles into an eerie stillness.
“Hey,” she speaks, the words echoing against the trees. Kris doesn’t move, but she feels their peering eyes against her cheek. “It’s not going to happen…” She intends the words to be a resolute statement, but her voice traitorously tilts upwards.
“…Kris?”
Kris, almost imperceptibly so, turns their head away from her. They open their mouth as if to speak, but the only sound that hits Susie’s ears is the wind’s wails. They press their lips into a fine line before trying once more. “Susie, I…”
They fumble for her hand, pulling it away from the stars and clutching it to their chest. “‘M going to do something stupid,” they murmur, clawing their way to their knees. They look down at Susie, the ends of their hair brushing against her brow. Kris swallows. Unobscured, their eyes bore into her. “Stop me,” they plead.
“Kris? What’re you…” The words die in Susie’s throat as Kris brings her hand to their cheek.
They move slowly, as if they’re scared she’ll blow away at any minute. Their hands creep up her jaw, tracing the scales against her cheeks before rooting themselves in her scalp. When they lean downwards, despite making no contact with her chest, Susie feels the wind knock out of her. It’s nothing like the commotion in the S-Rank room — it’s slow, cautious. It’s searching eyes and careful hands. It’s shared breaths and quickening hearts. When their lips meet, Susie’s hit with the taste of stale mints. With chapped lips scraping against her own, with blistered fingers pulling at tangled roots, she’s worried the warmth in her chest may melt her from the inside out.
Kris pulls away even slower than they pulled her in.
“Wh–” she breathes, trying as best she can to dislodge the words in her throat. “Dude, you… We…”
Despite their visible efforts against it, the corner of Kris's lips twitch upwards into a grin. Soon, a whistling laugh escapes them.
“Hey–!!” Susie pulls herself up onto her elbows, knocking Kris off of her with her knee. They crumple into the pavement at her side. “You have no right to make fun of me. You’re the one who just–” She groans. “Ugh, you weirdo.” She sits up fully, wiping clammy hands against her pants. The breeze does little to quell the growing heat beneath her skin.
“Sorry,” Kris huffs amidst their laughter. “Just, your face…” They smile, but with every moment that passes it loses more and more of its initial mirth. “Sorry,” they repeat. Susie gets the nagging feeling the words aren’t solely meant for her.
Susie huffs. Phantom pressure still burns against her lips. “Whatever, man. Warn a girl next time.”
Kris hums, unmoving against the concrete.
“Are ya gonna get up?”
“Can’t,” they murmur. “Tired.”
A laugh bursts from Susie’s chest. “Was that stunt all you had left in you?”
Kris lies unresponsive. Susie yawns.
“Well, you’re not the only one, I guess.” She nudges them with her boot. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
Kris groans.
“I’m not leaving you here, dude. Come on.”
Leaving no further room for complaint, she loops her arm around their midsection and lifts them to their feet. Kris makes it no more than five steps before stumbling and nearly crumpling back into the dirt, only hindered by Susie’s grip at the collar of their sweater.
“Damn, dude, you are tired.”
Kris grunts in reply. Despite their exhaustion, their eyes simmer with a dull anger.
“Fine, but this is a one time thing.” Susie picks them up once more, this time slinging them over her shoulder. “And you’ve gotta keep watch for any enemies that try to ambush us from behind.”
Kris pulls at her jacket almost immediately. “Found one.”
When she turns, a single toad sits where rock meets water. Its eyes flick to her for an instant before it jumps into the lake.
She hears Kris mumble from behind her, “Good thing that beast spared us.”
Susie steps off of the curb onto the street with a tad more gusto than strictly necessary, cackling when she hears Kris's muffled oof as they reconnect with her shoulder.
The rest of the walk is quiet. Susie, frankly, is grateful for this. The rushing current of thoughts in her head are distraction enough, not to mention the crippling exhaustion making itself known in the growing weight behind each motion. Kris, too, seems like they’ll pass out if they dare to speak another word.
She reaches their house before long. The lights are out, but when she moves for the front door Kris still redirects her to the trellis beneath their window.
“You sure you can get up there?”
They snort. “What, you offering to throw me?”
Susie flusters, stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets. “I mean, it’s not completely off the table.”
Kris laughs. Their hands grasp the trellis. After a moment’s contemplation, they turn to Susie, beckoning for her to come forward. With what Susie presumes to be the last few ounces of energy, they pull her down as they lurch upwards, pressing a kiss as rough as it is brief to the tip of her snout.
“Thanks,” is all they say as they climb back into their room, leaving Susie slack-jawed in the rain-soaked grass.
The next day is the festival. This fact is made abundantly clear far earlier than Susie would like as she’s woken up from her spot on the old man’s bench. She sits up, rubbing the crust from her eyes. Her head hurts, badly. Her memories of the hours prior to her crashing are clouded over, leaving only brief sensations of warmth amidst the exhaustion-fueled haze. She yearns for nothing more than to go back to sleep, but she knows that with the people now milling about, that’s no longer an option. In a lingering puddle nearby, she checks to ensure her eyes aren’t entirely bloodshot before she makes her way into the commotion.
The town is utterly unrecognizable. Vendors crowd the sidewalks, forcing passersby to awkwardly scoot behind them in order to enter the street’s businesses. In the center of the road are games, food, and more people than Susie ever knew to live in town. At the center of it all stands a ferris wheel that seems to touch the clouds. The line for it stretches to the furthest reaches of Susie’s vision, winding through the glimmering stalls to the point that she’s sure it’s impossible to tell from the back what the line’s even for.
Overwhelmed by the sudden glitz and glamor, she walks straight to Kris's house as fast as her legs can take her.
Kris's place, luckily, is the same as ever. From the outside, at least. When she knocks on the door, the lack of Toriel’s melodic voice on the other side makes her stomach twist.
Moments later, Kris cracks open the door, eyeing her for a moment before opening it fully. They nod in greeting.
“Hey,” Susie returns. “Your mom not here?”
Kris averts their eyes, staring holes into the porch. “Asleep.”
“Ah.” She nods, stuffing her hands into her pockets. Her scabbed over knuckles itch against the fabric. “Got it.”
Kris's gaze zeroes in on the motion. Shakily, they raise their finger, as if it weighs as much as their entire arm. “Your jacket…”
Susie looks down, spotting the splotch of crusted blood against her sleeve’s edge sticking out against the opening of her pocket. “Oh, uhh… Yeah, I scratched off the scab in my sleep, or something.”
Almost imperceptibly, Kris's posture slumps. They pull Susie inside by the sleeve with a startling strength. “Take this off.”
“Wh– Huh–?!” Susie sputters. “Dude, take me out to dinner first.”
Kris's face glows a bright red. They shake their hands frantically as if to physically dispel the notion. “No–!! I-I just meant– I was going to wash it! I’ll look–” Kris turns their face resolutely to the floor. “I can look away.”
Susie snickers, sliding her arms free of the jacket. “That makes it even weirder, freak.” She throws the garment onto Kris's head, cackling as they flinch beneath the fabric. She almost thinks she hears them sniff it.
After a moment, they claw the jacket from their head and disappear to the laundry room. When they return, they look as if they had run a marathon in the few minutes they were out of Susie’s sight. They sway with each step, stumbling their way to the living room where they promptly park themselves on the couch. Susie wastes no time joining them.
She opens her mouth to fill the silence, but Kris cuts her off before the words can come to fruition. “About last night, ‘m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Susie blinks, watching as the words die in their throat. “Dude, what about last night?” She racks her brain for what they’re referring to, but the vague blur she woke up with has only grown more indistinct. “I must’ve been tired as hell. You’re gonna have to remind me.”
“The–” They claw their fingers into the lower hem of their sweater, pulling and stretching the fabric. They keep their eyes trained on the empty TV stand. “It’s– It’s nothing. Nevermind.”
Susie nods slowly. “Oookay.”
The room descends into a stiff silence. Susie expects to eventually hear the rustling of Toriel getting up, but upstairs remains dead quiet.
“So, uhh…” she starts, scratching at the back of her neck. “I kind of need my jacket, y’know. For the festival, ‘n’ all that.”
Kris stands, beckoning for her to follow. They lead her to their room with careful steps. Once inside, they pull open Asriel’s dresser. They flourish their hands like a game show cast member revealing the grand prize. “Pick whichever you want. Except for that one.” They point to a burgundy flannel tucked in the corner. It’s crumpled, shoved haphazardly between the other flawlessly folded jackets.
“What’s the deal with that one..?”
“Off limits,” Kris mutters, leaving no room for question.
“Aye aye, captain.” Susie mock solutes before tugging the same jacket she wore to Church the day prior out of the drawer. “Here, a classic.”
Kris nods, shutting the drawer. Susie follows them back downstairs where they excuse themselves briefly, mumbling something about moving things to the dryer. She hears a crash from the laundry room before they reemerge.
Susie raises her brow. “What, my jacket try to strangle you in there, or something?”
Kris looks at her. Their smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes. “Something like that.”
With practiced steps, they lead Susie out of the house. During the time she was inside, the day has warmed from the usual morning chill to the thick weight of mid-October sun. The moist air is accompanied by the wafting breeze of grease flowing between food stalls. Kris moves through the crowd at a brisk pace. Just before Susie thinks to ask where they’re headed, the grandiose gate of Noelle’s house comes into view. Just outside of it sits Noelle and Berdly. Berdly, sitting opposed to their approach, spots them first.
“Susan!”
“Not my name,” Susie chides.
Berdly continues undeterred. “How joyous it is, to come across you on this special day.” Noelle stares him down, fingers twitching in their grip around her knees.
“Uhh, yeah,” Susie grumbles. “Good to see you too, I guess.”
“I knew you’d feel the same!”
Noelle butts in as soon as there’s the slightest pause. “Susie! Hi!” She points to her jacket, tilting her head. “Is that Asriel’s?”
“Oh, yeah,” Susie grunts, “Kris is letting me borrow it. Mine’s… uhh… dirty.”
Kris gives a thumbs up at her side.
“Oh! I see!” Noelle clasps her hands. “It looks! Good on you!”
Susie’s eyes widen. “Really? Uhh– thanks!”
“Indeed, Susan,” Berdly drawls, fluttering his lashes. “It suits your golden eyes quite nicely, especiall– Ack–!! ”
“Okay!” Noelle shoots upright, grabbing the back of Berdly’s collar in a vice-like grip. “Let’s get going then, yeah?” She smiles, dragging him away.
Berdly struggles in her hold, wailing sounds of indignation between surprised squawks. After a moment, he resigns, and falls limp. He pumps a feathered fist into the air as Noelle swings him around the corner. “The festivities await us!”
The group’s first stop is the nearest food stall. The glittering board advertises more fried goods than Susie thought existed. Some of which Noelle clearly wishes didn’t, if her rapidly greening complexion is anything to go by. Susie supposes grasshoppers may not be for everyone.
Absurd fair food aside, what had caught the group's attention was the sign advertising freshly squeezed lemonade. “Freshly Squeezed,” Susie guesses, refers to the trigger on the nozzle she sees the sweaty vendor fill each of their cups with. When Noelle offers to pay, no one argues.
With refreshments in hand, the group meanders towards the centerpiece of the festival. Up close, the ferris wheel manages to seemingly stretch even higher. Outside of the Cyber World, Susie had never seen a ferris wheel in person before. Excitement begins to churn in her gut. Without the background of an ongoing rescue mission, a giddy anticipation courses through her limbs.
“Susie!” Noelle chirps, lightly bumping against her side. “Would you want to… erm…” Her eyes flick behind Susie to where Kris stands. “Ride it? Together? With me?” With each word, her face grows an even more vibrant shade of red.
“Hell yeah, dude!” Susie grins. She turns to Kris and Berdly. “You guys wann–”
Kris cuts her off with gritted teeth. “Cars are too small, me and Berdly will go play games.”
Berdly flinches. “Kris? But I’d–”
“Me and Berdly will go play games,” they repeat, dragging him off into the crowd. This time, Berdly simply crosses his arms and lets it happen.
Susie blinks. “Okay then… Well, whatever. More ferris wheel for us, I guess.”
“Fahahah, yep!” Noelle nods her head vigorously. “More for us!”
They step into the line. Much to Susie’s relief, it’s significantly shorter than the first time she’d spotted it. Within a few minutes, they’re being loaded onto a pastel-colored gondola that Susie’s almost-positive could fit at least four people. Her and Noelle take a seat on opposing sides, and they ascend into the air. Now that she’s closer, Susie notices that the metal framework outside is riddled with rust, singing low groans as it turns. She decides not to worry herself with asinine safety concerns.
“So, uhm, Susie…!” Noelle trails off, grinding the straw of her lemonade between her molars. “Have you — erm — ever ridden? Before? A ferris wheel, I mean– fahah!”
Susie nods, squinting out the window. “Yeah, uhhh… once. In the city.”
Noelle smiles, shaking the ice in her cup as if it personally wronged her. “Oh! That’s, uhm, that’s funny! Not like, in a bad way, or anything. Just, funny coincidence.” Noelle takes a deep breath. When she speaks again, her words spill out so fast Susie has to scramble to piece the sounds together. “I actually had a dream about us– I mean– about riding a ferris wheel actually. It was really cool, since I’ve never ridden one outside of the festival. Last time I rode with somebody else, actually, was when I was little; me and Kris rode it together, they — fahahah — waited until we were at the very top, and started shaking the car like crazy! I was so scared. When we came down, Dess threatened to tie them to the ferris wheel for the rest of the day. She said they’d get packed up with the rest of the rides and have to live on the road forever, travelling from carnival to carnival, never to see their family again. Kris started– they started crying so hard, our moms came and…” She claps a hand over her mouth. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry about that!”
“No!” Susie blinks. “That’s, uhm, cool! Or, I’m sorry?”
Noelle giggles. “They were always pulling crazy pranks. Until– well, they eventually stopped.” She sighs, staring out at the town below. “I miss them, sometimes, as crazy as that may sound. They’re right there, right?” She laughs, but she sounds unconvinced of her words.
“That reminds me, uh…” Susie wrings her hands together. “Back at your place, you mentioned them acting different. Could you, like… I don’t know.” She huffs. “How do they act normally?”
Noelle jolts, chewing at her straw until it’s practically two-dimensional. It takes a moment for her to respond. “Just that– it’s nothing, really… Just a weird feeling, I guess…” She looks back out the window, then pointedly to the section of floor between her and Susie’s shoes. “It’s their voice, I think. They used to be so… mumbly, I guess? And super deadpan… And they hardly ever talked, like, at all.”
The descriptors ring through Susie’s mind. Visions of the diner wash over her vision, bleeding out like watercolor into shared laughs in church, conversations on their couch, a waterside breeze with a nagging sense of importance.
“But now… they talk a ton, and to everybody. It’s… I’m happy they’re getting more social… but I just think that, maybe…” She shakes her head. “No, it’s silly. Forget I said anything, okay?”
Susie frowns. “What is it?”
Noelle sighs, digging her heels against the base of her seat. “It really is silly. Some part of me just wonders, I guess, if it’s the same Kris I knew before. That’s absurd, right?”
“Nah,” Susie hums. She fights the urge to vomit out the seed of dread rooting itself in her gut. “I… think I get what’cha mean.”
“I see…” Noelle looks to the floor. If Susie looks closely, she can faintly make out a quiet shimmer pooling at her waterline. The silence drones on for half a rotation. When Noelle speaks again, the ride has begun to routinely stall as passengers disembark. “You really care about them, don’t you?”
“Wh–” Susie sputters. “Well, yeah, obviously. Why wouldn’t I?”
Noelle smiles. She looks out the window, eyes trained on Kris and Berdly standing by the exit gate. Kris holds a stuffed creature of indeterminate species. Berdly, at their side, is in the middle of what Susie figures to be a long winded rant about his own greatness, if the agonized twist to Kris's frown is any indicator. She watches as their shoulders jump. They pull their phone out of their pocket, and they don’t look like they’re listening to Berdly anymore.
“That’s good,” Noelle says, voice resolute. Susie tears her gaze away from the scene. “I’m glad. Take care of them, okay?”
Susie can do nothing but nod as the doors open. Noelle wastes no time dusting off her skirt and rejoining the group. Susie soon follows. For the rest of the day, she’s unable to take her eyes off of Kris, unable to halt the ever growing list of newly lit experiences in her mind.
The festival only grows as day turns to dusk. With the sun setting, a glittering landscape of incandescent bulbs takes form.
After eight hours of eating their respective body weights in trashy food and reigning over the bumper cars with an iron fist, though, the group fails to be invigorated by the newfound illumination. Noelle teeters on her feet, clutching what must be her fifth lemonade with a chattering grip. Berdly isn’t much better. He trails a bit behind her, boring holes into the paper boat of deep-friend worms he’s been slowly working at for the past two hours. Kris at first glance seems unbothered, but when Susie looks closely, the bags under their eyes seem ever so slightly darker.
When they disperse, it’s gradual, natural. Berdly bids the group farewell with too many words and too little substance as he staggers towards the apartments. A few minutes later, Noelle excuses herself to go talk with Catti.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow, yeah?” she says with a wave over her shoulder.
Susie and Kris are left alone once more. The two of them take a seat against the curb, stretching aching feet out against the asphalt.
“So, uhh… Your place?”
Kris nods wordlessly. They worry a pebble of gravel between their forefinger and thumb, rolling it across their skin, leaving dirtied spirals in its wake.
“Is…” Susie coughs. “Is your mom…”
Kris shakes their head. They drop the pebble, hand coming to rest at their pocket. “She’s staying somewhere else tonight.”
“Oh.”
Susie leans back on her palms, staring up at the sky. In town, it’s impossible to pick out more than a few stars, especially while surrounded by the festival’s shining lights.
She turns her head to Kris. “Rager at your place, then?”
Kris snorts, the sound descending into a cackle. “Hell yeah.”
Susie stands, stretching the tension out of her shoulders. “Sick,” she grunts through a grin as she helps Kris to their feet. Susie falls in to step behind them as they leave the festivities behind.
A “rager,” apparently, under Kris's interpretation, means sitting in the dark, pressed together in their bed, balancing a laptop between their legs and a cheap carnival plushy atop their laps as their necks cramp under their efforts to watch the worst movie Kris could find.
The selection tonight is a romcom with a title so long that Susie had forgotten it before she had finished reading it. The entire movie looks like it was crafted with a flip phone and a dream. The writing manages to be even worse.
No matter how bad the movie is, though, it fails to shake the all encompassing feeling of contentment that bathes Susie in the moment. She’s back in her jacket, freshly cleaned, blood-free, and softer than the day she pulled it out of the dumpster behind the department store. Kris had retrieved it for her the moment they’d disposed of the soft-colored sticky note, adorned with swirling lettering, that was stuck to the dining table. Susie didn’t comment on the series of loud crashes that echoed from the laundry room before they’d returned clutching their chest, hair mussed and knees wobbling. She realized that she feared the answer, the change it could bring, the fractures it could cause. They had pressed the jacket in a ball to her outstretched hands. Looking like they were about to cry, they apologized that they’d washed out her smell. Susie gave them a noogie until they were forced to tap out.
Susie jolts at the sensation of Kris snickering at her side.
“Hey–! What is it?!”
“Nothing,” Kris replies in a tone that says the opposite. A sharp elbow to the ribs incentivises them to continue. “You just got really red all of the sudden.”
“I–” Susie wishes they were seated on the outside of the bed so that she could shove them off. “I did not.”
Kris's grin widens. “You so did. What, d’you have the hots for the small town lumberjack?”
“I–”
“Wanna climb that Christmas Tree?”
Susie yanks the pillow from under their heads, slamming it over Kris's face. Their taunts continue, muffled beneath the fabric.
“Say that again, I dare you–!!”
She lifts the pillow, allowing Kris's heaving laughter to come into focus, before she smothers it against their face once more.
“Gah–” They flail, fruitlessly batting at her hands. “I yiel– mnf– I yield!”
Susie scoffs, keeping a firm hold on the pillow as she clutches it to her chest. “You yield? Berdly’s taking you over, man.”
Kris's face scrunches. They eye the pillow, but instead turn back to the laptop, righting it from where it’d been knocked askew. Susie settles back in at their side. Kris tries once for the pillow, but they get swatted away with a deft whack. Susie then resigns the weapon, repositioning it under their heads.
The movie is just wrapping up its pitiful excuse for a second act. The protagonists come bounding towards each other, the female lead twirling around in the love interest’s arms after his harrowing journey.
“Man, this thing's ass,” Susie grumbles. She feels Kris nod against her shoulder.
They exchange joyful words, as cheesy as they are sappy. It cuts to a closeup of the actors’ eyes. They each glitter with the other’s reflection.
“Imagine if this happened every time we got back from the Dark World,” Susie snorts. “Do you think I could spin you and Ralsei around at the same time?”
Kris looks up at her. Their hair is pushed back, leaving their eyes, crinkled with amusement, on full display. “You’d probably throw us.”
“Yeah,” Susie laughs, “I probably would.”
The girl is set back on her feet. She swears off her corporate job in the city, tossing away her blazer as she does so. The run-of-the-mill music swells as their lips clash. She throws her arms around his shoulders, he wraps his around her waist. It zooms into another closeup that lingers far past its welcome. Susie looks to Kris. She can see the screen reflected in their eyes, as clear as a mirror. Their mouth is pressed into a fine line.
“Hey,” she whispers. Their head snaps to hers immediately. “I’m going to ask something stupid.”
Kris stares at her. Their eyes are wide, filled to the brim with a churning current of hope, fear, and every sensation in between.
“Do you… wanna, like…”
“Yes,” they breathe, voice thick with desperation. Their face looks as red as Susie’s feels.
Susie snorts. “Not even gonna let me finish–?”
“No, don’t care.” They move towards her. Distantly, she can hear the laptop clatter against the floor. “Yes,” they reiterate. Their breath is hot against her face.
Foregoing further formality, Susie presses their lips together. Familiarity bursts in fireworks, the sound of the wind, the sensation of chapped lips, now dipped in the lingering taste of lemonade and corndogs. They part quickly, both heaving ragged breaths as if they’d been deprived of oxygen their entire lives.
“Dude…” Susie mumbles, holding Kris by the shoulders. “I remember now.”
“What?”
“Last night,” she clarifies. “I remember now.”
Kris stares at her, jaw slack with shock. “You actually forgot–?!”
“Yes, man! I told you I didn’t remember this morning!”
Kris sits back on folded legs. “I thought– I thought you regretted it, and were trying to be nice about it or something!”
Susie sputters, aghast. “Me!? Being nice about it?!”
“I know!” Kris's incredulity crumbles into a laugh. “I can’t believe you fucking forgot…”
“I was tired, okay?!” Susie grumbles, poking them in the hip.
Kris leans forward once more. The look of adoration in their eyes as they peer down at Susie makes her stomach flip. “You forget this too, and I’ll lose it.”
Susie smiles, kissing them again in lieu of reply. Their lips press together with an increased intentionally. Susie feels as Kris's hands snake beneath her jacket, gripping on to her T-shirt as they pull her closer, closer, closer. Their tongue swipes against her lips and it feels like heaven and then some. She returns the motion, relishing the soft gasp it sparks until it’s branded in her mind. Kris kisses her harder, claws out, teeth bared. Their hands travel up from her shirt, dancing a trail of featherlight touches against her neck before they reach her hair where they pull. It’s just rough enough that Susie is left teetering in the haze, drunken on bliss, as Kris wraps themselves around her.
When they part, it takes Susie a moment to open her eyes. She latches on to every sensation she can fit in her arms, keeping those at the top of the pile in place with the underside of her chin; she holds onto them until they’ve merged into her — until there’s nothing left but the gentle glow of a world waiting to be seen. She opens her eyes. It takes a moment to adjust, but soon, the silhouette of Kris begins to take form. The laptop’s screen had fallen asleep, leaving the moonlight alone as the room’s light source. It streams in from the window, outlining Kris with a hazy, luminescent blue. It reminds Susie vaguely of the prophecy panels. It glows with the same beauty, the same importance. They sit atop her lap, a leg on either side; their hair is wrecked, their face is flushed, and Susie’s never seen them smile wider.
Kris headbutts her, nestling their face against her neck. “Like what you see?”
“Meh,” Susie grunts, words warping around her smile. “Not particularly.”
Kris scoffs. They lift themselves up to their knees, pressing a lingering kiss to her snout. Her breath hitches, and the smile they bare couldn’t be more victorious. “In case you forgot that one, too,” they mock with a wobbly, cracking voice.
Susie laughs, because if she didn’t, she fears the heavy words lodged in her chest would tumble out. Some part of her hopes that Kris hears them anyway. In the way they join in, in the way they pull her closer, in the way their lips reconnect again, and again, and again, another part of her knows that they do.
The next day, the world spins on, leaving little time for indulgence.
Toriel had come in early in the morning, finding Kris and Susie wound around each other like twin pythons. She had shaken them awake, ushered food into their mouths and books into their hands before she dropped them off at their classroom. She’d kissed Kris's cheek and ruffled Susie’s hair as she bid them farewell.
Kris expressionlessly watches as she disappears down the hallway. Then, they turn, and make their way into the classroom with creaking movements. Susie watches the door swing shut behind them. She waits for just a moment, long enough to escape suspicion, before she follows.
The day passes by in a blur. The class time is spent sharing the group project topics with Alphys, an activity Susie luckily got to avoid thanks to Kris sleeping like a rock atop their desk.
“S–Susie?” Alphys had called her, voice shaking. “Do you and Kris…” She looks to Kris's crumpled form. Right on cue, they begin to loudly snore.
Susie shrugs. “It’s on their computer, ma’am.”
Alphys smiles, teeth digging into her bottom lip so harshly the surrounding skin is pressed white. “I see.”
Susie had been left alone after that.
It felt like eons waiting for the bell to ring, but once it did, Susie felt as if she’d only woken up mere minutes ago.
She stands from her desk, grabbing Kris's stuff in one hand and Kris themself in the other on her way out of the classroom.
Their routine wander of the town is cut short. Outside of the school, Kris had mumbled something about delivering a letter to their dad. From what Susie was able to parse out of it, it was a dinner invite for their brother’s upcoming return.
When they arrived at Flower King, however, they were met with darkness. Clouding the windows, leaking out the door, it was utterly engulfed. Kris, eyes wide and hands trembling, tumbles across the precipice with Susie hot on their tail.
The Dark World, despite its title, is bright — almost blindingly so. Presently, Kris and Susie walk through the golden flowers that coat the world for as far as they can see. The sky is a myriad of pinks and yellows, forever set in the brief, idyllic moments of sunset. Kris stumbles ahead of her. Their head turns at the slightest rustle amongst the brush. At first, Susie had thought they were eagerly awaiting Ralsei’s arrival, but now, she’s not so sure. She surges forward, halting them with a gentle tug at their gauntlet.
“Hey, it’ll be alright, man.” She gingerly tucks their hair behind their ear. Red eyes — turned pink in the darkness — peer up at her. Rather, they peer through her, still searching.
Susie leans down, but rather than Kris's forehead, her lips collide with cold metal. She stumbles back half a step. Kris's hair slips from their ear, leaving their eyes obscured once more.
“Not here,” they grit out. Their mouth stays open, as if they want to continue, but before they can, they turn on their heel and press further into the floral infinity.
The heroes, once again, are victorious. The world survives yet another day. At this point, that’s all Susie can really ask for.
Despite this, when she stumbles into Kris's house, as she watches them discard today’s note, victorious is at the bottom of her list of current emotions.
She channels her last shreds of energy to make it up the stairs and into Kris's room where she wastes no time flopping face first onto the bed. Kris follows her in soon after. She hears some rustling on the opposite side of the room. It quiets just before a soft fabric is thrown over her head.
“Pajamas,” Kris mumbles, “for you. I’m gonna go take a shit.”
Susie gives them a thumbs up, unmoving from her spot — face first in their pillow — for ten seconds or thirty after she hears the door click shut. She turns her head to the side, groaning as the lamplight pierces her vision. Atop her sits a set of purple, still-tagged pajamas.
As she changes into them, Susie can’t help the smile that grows across her face.
Now in clean clothes, and thus significantly more content, she sits properly on the bed. Kris's gray comforter dips beneath her. She runs the tip of her finger along the fabric, careful her claw doesn’t snag the fibers.
Downstairs, the faucet wails. Susie frowns. It stays on for a minute, two, three, before a loud thud reverberates throughout the house’s framework. The faucet falls quiet, replaced by the sound of padded feet dragging their way up the stairs.
Kris reappears a moment later, staggering into Susie’s grasp before the door even falls shut behind them. Tentatively, she rests her chin against their scalp. Kris flails their arm around blindly until it collides with the light. It clicks off, and they clutch Susie ever-tighter in the darkness.
“Hey, Kris,” Susie whispers. They make a soft sound against her clavicle. “You weren’t really taking a shit, were you?”
Kris stiffens. Just when Susie begins to think that they’ve fallen asleep, they shift, shaking their head slowly against the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Susie scowls into the darkness. She rolls to her side, gently lowering Kris's head to rest on the pillow. “What were you up to, then?”
Kris shakes their head again. Slowly, their hands cup Susie’s face. Their motions are languid, as if struggling against gallons of molasses. “’m sorry,” they whisper.
“Sorry?” Susie repeats, voice taught with confusion.
The air is still, hauntingly so. Even the moonlight had fled, leaving the room a pure, monotonous, black.
“What for?” she asks, shaking their shoulder lightly. Alas, the only reply she receives is slow, steady breaths that echo in the silence.
When Kris awakes, the first thing they notice is pain. Burning, screaming, it claws against their ribs, pulls at their throat, twists at their joints — it pleads, desperately, for reprieve. Between shuddering gasps, they slowly extricate themselves from Susie. Their eyes linger on her face, twisted in her slumber, before they hurry downstairs.
Returning the Soul to their chest feels less so like jumping out of the fire as it does jumping into the pot, water simmering on the precipice of a boil. They bite down a scream as that wretched thing sinks its claws into their limbs, worming under their skin until Kris is forced into the sidelines. They watch, numbly, as their body wanders the bathroom. They pick up their shampoo bottle, their brother’s body spray, the toilet seat. All is the same as yesterday, and the day before, but still, no stone may rest. All must be overturned, examined and dissected for parts until nothing is left. Kris drifts in and out of awareness as they wander the rest of the rooms downstairs. They linger at the TV stand, running their hands over the coarse wood. The door is next. Their body rattles the handle, but Kris wails as hard as they can, until their throat is raw, to please, just go to bed.
Thankfully, they turn tail from the door, and make their way upstairs. Of course, they must read the spines of each book, check their mother’s room, the mirror, the drawers. The Soul lingers on the How to Draw Dragons book for what seems like an eternity, opening and closing the drawer until Kris is convinced it will break off its tracks at any moment.
Finally, though, they stagger towards their room. They twist the knob, easing the door open. The old hinges whine despite their efforts.
Susie’s a heavy sleeper, they rationalize, it’ll be fine. They can slip in, beeline for Asriel’s bed, and the Soul and Susie both will be none the wiser.
Inside the room, Susie sits on their bed, notably awake. “Hey,” she says simply. Kris wants to scream.
They can feel their mouth open. They’re not lucid enough to note what the words are that come out, but whatever they are, they only cause Susie’s frown to deepen.
“Since you’re awake, Noelle said something to me when we were at her place. I tried to bring it up before, but…” Susie grumbles something to herself. “Whatever. Point is, she talked about you acting ‘different.’ I didn’t know what she meant at first…” She pauses, looking them up and down. “I think I do, now.”
Kris sputters, a thousand explanations, a million excuses, all trying to escape them at once. Susie stands, placing a hand on their shoulder. Her smile is strained. “I trust you, dude, just–”
“You shouldn’t,” Kris rasps.
Susie’s eyes widen, frantically searching their face. “What?”
“You really, really shouldn’t.” Kris averts their gaze to the floor. They grasp for her hands, dragging them forward until they’re pressing against the ache in their chest. “I wish you could, I want you to– I want to show you… But–”
“Then– then show me,” she pleads. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
Kris bites their lip. Their phone is heavy in their pocket, but the imposter in their chest is heavier. “Okay,” they mumble as they lift their sweater. Susie’s eyes follow the motion, widening as more and more of the jagged line of red winding down their sternum is revealed.
“What is– Kris, What are you–”
Before she can collect herself, Kris tightens their grip around her wrist, and shoves her claws inside their chest.
It’s agony, blinding agony. Kris's entire body trembles as wretched sensations of freezing and burning simultaneously wrack their system. The Soul thrashes in their chest, tearing at their spine in desperate hopes for escape. Susie’s hand falters, she looks at them with what can only be described as abject horror.
“What the fuck,” she forces through gritted teeth. “Kris, Kris, you’re bleeding, hey– Let me go–!!”
Kris's grip tightens. They feel a crackle of electricity as her fingertips grace the Soul’s surface. “Can’t do that,” they manage between wet gasps. “I want– I need for you to know.”
“What is this?!” Susie’s grip tightens around the Soul. Kris's body shakes as they cough, grating and bloody. With trembling arms, they push Susie away and stumble backwards. The Soul is freed from their chest with a sick, wet squelch.
Susie stares, mortified as it struggles in her grip. Kris crumples to the floor, clutching desperately at their chest, pleading through wretched hacks for air to return to their lungs.
“This looks like–” Susie falls back onto her rear. She holds the Soul at arms length. “Kris, is this your–?!”
“It’s not mine,” they choke out between coughs.
“It’s not– What do you mean it's not yours?!”
Kris replies with a guttural heave.
“Where do I put it? Is it– Are you okay?” The Soul stills in her grasp. Susie’s grip doesn’t loosen.
Kris gestures wordlessly towards the bird cage. Ugly understanding blossoms in Susie’s expression.
Wordlessly, Kris takes the Soul from her hand, hurling it behind bars. The moment the door’s shut, they fall to their side. Susie hurries over, holding a tentative hand at their back as their heaves begin to slow. Kris can feel as blood — their blood — sticks Susie’s hands to their sweater. With a twisted amusement, they can’t help but smile at the fact that they now know how to clean it up.
Once their breathing has settled to some semblance of normal, Susie hoists them onto their bed. “Jesus fucking Christ, dude.” She claws her hand through her scalp. “You need to start explaining some shit.”
Kris nods. “I– I’ve had it since we went to the supply closet. It controls me, in a way.”
“In a way?”
“It just…” Kris huffs. The whole situation is a lot more difficult to explain, now that they’re faced with it. “It changes. Sometimes I’m able to gain more control, sometimes not.”
Susie nods, despite looking as confused as ever. “So, like the diner…?”
“Yeah.” Kris smiles. They resist the urge to collapse into Susie’s side. “That was me.”
Susie frowns in thought. “Do human souls normally do that..?”
“No. I don’t think so, at least.” Kris leans back against their palms. “Although, I don’t even know if it’s human.”
“You don’t– What do you mean you don’t know if it’s human?!”
Kris shrugs. They tug a spare blanket from beneath their bed, tossing it over the birdcage.
“What happened to your soul, then? Did you just — like — stumble across a maybe-human soul one day?”
Kris's lips twist into a frown. Slowly, they shake their head. “I– I can’t… I’ll tell you someday.” They flick their eyes to Susie. Her brow is cinched tight with worry. “Soon, I promise.”
Susie grasps Kris's hand, squeezing it lightly. “Okay,” she breathes. ‘Okay…”
Silence befalls them. Every now and then, the Soul rattles its enclosure, causing Kris to tense. Susie — brash, beautiful, Susie — tightens her grip on their hand each time, running her thumb from their first knuckle to their last with such an oozing care that it makes Kris want to vomit.
“So… Do you need to put it back in?” She turns to them. Her undereyes are dark with exhaustion. Kris knows they’re no better.
“I don’t want it… I…” Kris bites their lip. “Just for tonight, I can manage.”
“Are you sure?” Susie’s frown deepens.
Kris nods. “I just want tonight — I want you — to myself.”
Susie blinks, a bewildered gasp wrenching its way from her throat. “Wh– Jeez, okay, you sap. Wait here, though.”
Kris whines as she unwinds her fingers from theirs and exits the room. A shiver runs over their spine as they hear the stairs creak beneath her weight. They draw their knees to their chest. It itches, the fissure scabbing over once more. They grit their teeth. The hollowness begins to ache.
Luckily for them, Susie is back before too long, bringing a handful of items with her. Before Kris can register what this includes, a sweet, cracker-like sheet is shoved in their mouth, and a cold glass is placed in their hands. Susie sits at their side, opening up a Pop-Tarts bag of her own. Kris chews slowly. Their throat stings when they swallow. They wash it down with what they pleasantly discover is lemonade.
“How long can you go without it?”
Kris shrugs. “Never tested it. It starts to hurt when it’s out for too long, but what too long is seems variable at best.”
Susie stares intently at the red glow sneaking out from under the cage’s improvised cover.
“Biggest thing is I just get–” Kris gesticulates to the air, “–really tired. Sometimes, when I wake up without it, it doesn’t feel like I can get up.”
Susie hums in acknowledgment. “So… the night at the lake, then…?”
Kris nods. Susie’s shoulders lose an ounce of their tension.
She huffs, patting a firm hand against Kris's back. “We’ll figure this out, man.”
Kris doesn’t reply, simply watching as Susie tears into her snack.
“For the record,” she mutters around the pastry, “I like this you a lot better.”
Kris's eyes widen, lips parting ever-so slightly, until a wobbly smile overtakes their features. They lean into Susie’s side, seeping as much warmth from her as they can get. Susie presses her cheek against their scalp. For a moment, they simply stay there, listening to the midnight silence and the gentle thumps of each other's hearts. Soon, though, the late hour catches up with them. Kris yawns, and Susie readjusts them back onto the pillow, nestling herself at their side. They pout until she plants a chaste kiss against their bitten lips. As brief as it is, the taste of whispered promises lingers on Kris's tongue.
“I do have one more question, though,” Susie murmurs into the darkness.
Kris looks up at her — or, well, generally where they think her face is. Judging by the soft breaths against their forehead, they’re probably pretty close.
“Noelle said you hardly spoke normally, but if anything, you seem more talkative without that thing in you.” Susie idly runs her claws through their hair, fumbling the knots out with an aching care.
“What,” Kris grumbles, burying their face in Susie’s shirt. Their words are muffled against the fabric, “am I not allowed to want to talk to the girl I like?”
Susie’s silent, for a moment. Kris pictures her eyes blown in her usual comical look of shock and has to work to keep a giggle from bubbling out of their throat. Then, she laughs, shaking the world around them. Kris holds on to the sound. They lock it away in the part of their heart where they keep all things dear to them.
“Touché,” she mutters, pronouncing it Too-chee . It’s the last thing she says before she begins to snore.