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The Dreemurrs are just so… weird.
Susie's got no right to judge, but her family is just, like, run-of-the-mill neglectful, y'know? Having sleep for dinner, or pretending to call home from Kris’ house whenever she crashes at their place because truthfully, the only people who worry about her are the ones she's already with. Kris’ family is better… sort of. Just different.
The only thing Susie's picked up on from Toriel that she doesn't quite like (which feels illegal, considering how much she's done for her, even before she became friends with Kris) is that Toriel brushes Kris off. A lot.
Not that she'd ever say anything about it, but she sees the way Kris slouches in defeat when they arrive home late and unannounced from their most recent adventure only to realize that their mother hadn’t even noticed they were missing. Or how Toriel just doesn’t seem to care about Kris’ boundaries all that much. If Kris protests or complains, Toriel doesn’t scold them, or become annoyed, she just… ignores them. Kris is loved, that much Susie knows, but not, like… seen?
Take now for example. Literally, right now.
Susie agrees to stay for dinner after visiting Castle Town with Kris to hang out in the dojo, and the next thing she knows, she’s full of homemade spaghetti and Toriel’s got decades of taped-up family photo albums spread out across the kitchen table. They start with monochrome pictures of goat monsters that Susie’s sure have long since turned to dust, and photos of the Dreemurrs themselves become more and more sparse as the pages go on, ending with Asriel’s high school graduation portrait. It’s laid in with fancy edging where the rest have none.
Toriel starts thumbing through the pages until she finds the one she’s looking for- a clear, horrified look crossing Kris’ face, staring off at nothing while they cross their arms over their stomach- and she smiles fondly as she pulls a small, stained photo out from underneath another.
“They used to dislike this one, but I find it quite cute!” Toriel beams, passing the picture in question to Susie. “I suppose you found it embarrassing, Kris?”
Susie stares at the photo in her claws. It’s a much younger Kris, standing beside their brother, wearing matching green-and-yellow-striped shirts with a cheesy grin on their face. They have an oversized pair of costume horns balancing on top of their head.
What part of this is supposed to be embarrassing, exactly? The fact that they’re dressed like a dork and that matching is inherently stupid?
“Mom,” Kris says, a slight wobble in their voice. Toriel pays it no mind.
She must be able to see the confusion on Susie’s face, because she goes on to explain, her tone lifted with nostalgia, “It was adorable, dear. Kris came up to me one day, and they said, ‘Mom? When do I get horns?’ And I realized that I’d never really explained to them that they weren’t going to grow any! But they insisted, so I found a pair from the Halloween section that they could grow into.”
Kris continues to stare at the floor, refusing to meet Susie’s eyes when she glances at them.
“They would wear the horns out and about with the family, to church, and to the diner, too. Everyone in town played along. No one knew how to treat them once they took them off, ha ha! I suppose they couldn’t tell which was the ‘phase’, wearing the horns or removing them.”
Toriel’s presenting it as if it’s a fond memory, and it sounds like it should be, but the way Kris’ breath trembles is enough to tell Susie that it’s anything but.
Their mother finally looks at them just as she finishes tucking the photo back into place, clearly puzzled by what she’s seeing. “Kris? Are you not feeling well?”
How can she not tell that she’s the reason Kris is upset?!
Before Kris can answer, Susie stretches her arms over her head and fake-yawns. “I’m beat. Can we be excused?”
“You may,” Toriel gently corrects her, and Susie’s gut pangs as she fights the urge to roll her eyes like she would at any other adult. But this is Toriel, it’s Kris’ mom, so she just smiles and heads upstairs, the sound of Kris’ light footsteps not too far behind.
Susie heads for the spare pyjamas Kris keeps folded neatly in their brother's dresser for her, and, as she shimmies out of her clothes and into something more comfortable, she assumes that Kris is doing the same behind her. They change in front of each other constantly, to the point that Susie's desensitized to the sight of Kris’ body. She's seen the scars carved into their skin, stretched over protruding bones that Susie is sure humans aren't supposed to have, or that she isn't supposed to see, anyway. She caught a glimpse inside of that book on the second floor of the library just before Kris slammed it shut; those humans were softer, fleshier than Kris is.
However, when she turns around, Kris is just standing there. Their pyjamas are laid out on the bed behind them, and they fiddle at the bottom of their sweater like they're thinking of taking it off, but can't quite work up the nerve.
“You good, dude?”
Kris gathers their pyjamas underneath their arm and bolts for the door, half-assing some excuse for needing to change in the bathroom, leaving Susie alone to flop down onto Asriel's bed.
Something's always off about Kris, but this feels… different. No self-deprecating jokes about their younger self, no random interjections to get out of the situation. Susie knows that Kris has a habit of just sitting there and taking it, but she's never seen them get so weird about it. All panicky.
And maybe they really are just embarrassed about the horns and Susie's overthinking it.
Kris takes a lot longer than they should, leaving Susie alone with her thoughts for nearly fifteen minutes before finally returning to their bedroom. The pyjamas they've chosen are far too big and miles too long, something that would probably fit their brother when he still lived at home. They slink over to their side of the room and settle underneath the covers without a word.
“Are you, like… okay?” Susie asks after a few moments of silence, figuratively and literally on the edge of her seat. Kris still doesn't speak, but they give a half-hearted thumbs-up in response.
Bullshit.
Susie can see how thinking you were a monster, publicly, for years upon years until someone thought to tell them the difference would be embarrassing; but they wouldn't get like this over a phase.
If it even was a phase.
A little lightbulb flickers dimly over Susie's head; maybe Kris just doesn't like being a human. They refuse to watch giant human movies with her, preferring the dragon monster ones if they had to watch them at all, and they grew up in a town without any other humans around. The only other time Susie ever saw them look at a picture of one, back at the library, they slammed the book shut like the human was going to crawl off of the page and get them. Like they were… afraid, almost?
It finally dawns on her: Kris had to have come from somewhere else. They're adopted, and from what Susie saw in those photo albums, they didn't join the family until they were old enough to go to preschool with Toriel. And if that's the case, Kris would've lived with other humans. Humans that may not have been that nice to them.
Humans that might have made them afraid.
“So, um…” Susie slides off of the edge of Asriel's bed, landing on the floor with her back against the blanket. “Where did you live before you came here?”
Kris straightens up, dropping their phone by their side. Their eyes sharpen, but they also raise their brow, tilting their head to the side. “What?”
Smooth, Susie. Real subtle.
“I mean, like, you came from somewhere with other humans… yeah?” The longer Susie speaks, the more she's kicking herself for even bringing it up. If Kris isn't already upset, they certainly will be now that she's here to make everything worse.
“Yeah,” they say, but their tone lifts like it's a question. “Why are you asking?”
“I just… were they nice humans?”
Kris copies Susie's motion from before, sliding off of their bed. “I don't know. Can't remember. Why?”
“You don't seem to like them very much,” she says.
Kris’ face drops at the same time their entire body stiffens.
Nice going, dumbass. You made them upset!
“Sorry man, forget I brought it up-” Susie starts, but Kris cuts her off.
“They just make me uncomfortable,” they mumble.
Uncomfortable has to be the worst word Kris could've chosen, because all Susie can picture is a human she's never met doing something very, very wrong to her friend. Kris must realize it too, because they're quick to backtrack- “Not- not like that. I swear.”
Susie scoots across the rug until she's close enough to take one of Kris’ hands in her own, and it's only then that she notices the tear tracks streaking down their face. “Shit, dude, I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry.”
She moves to pull away, but Kris tightens their grip and brings their other hand over to anchor her. “Don't, it's fine, it's just- it's stupid.”
Susie shuffles to sit at Kris’ side, not allowing her hand to fall from theirs; they allow their head to slump against her shoulder, hiding their face in her sleeve.
“Can't be stupid if it's got you this upset.” Kris just nestles into her further, sniffling and breathing like they're starving for air.
After a moment, they pull back, drawing a deep, shaky breath.
“I don't… feel like I should be one. A human.”
And that… Susie doesn't know what to think of that.
Not because she thinks Kris is being stupid- Kris can be stupid about a lot of things, but the anguish in their voice is too genuine for this to be one of them- but because Toriel's cute, lighthearted story about Kris’ “monster phase” is starting to lose color.
“Everyone around me knew the difference, so it was like- people felt bad for my mom for having to put up with it. And everyone thought I was dumb enough not to realize because…” they stop for a moment, running their thumb over Susie's claws, “because of how I am.”
Susie likes the fact that Kris is different; surprisingly, Kris doesn't. The fact that Susie is part of the reason they feel that way is never lost on her. She'd targeted Kris out of jealousy more than anything, and a particular facet of that jealousy was how secure Kris seemed to be with themself, which is now obviously more of a front than anything.
Before she can sit with that thought any longer (and thank goodness she can't sit with that thought any longer), Kris continues. “I mean, I didn't realize I wasn't gonna grow fur until I was, like, twelve, and mom had to tell me to stop wearing the horns because it was getting weird. She didn't say that, but I got the idea.”
Susie hates that she can imagine Toriel's well-meaning cadence in her mind: ‘My child, perhaps if we kept the horns inside the house?”
“...I never threw them away or anything. They're in my dresser. I still wear them sometimes,” they pause, before they add, “when I'm home by myself. It's like I'm not right and there's an itch I can't scratch but the horns help.”
And, well, Susie prefers to deal with things head on. So…
Susie slowly, gently, removes her hands from Kris’ before pushing herself off of the ground- she stops to reassure Kris that she isn't going anywhere, even though they didn't ask- and heads over to their dresser, rummaging around their junk drawer until she feels the shape of cold, plastic horns under her touch. Then, she settles back into her place at Kris’ side, holding the horns out between them.
“I don't know how to help with the whole ‘human’ thing, but I know a thing or two about being treated like a freak, okay?” She says. “And it sucks. But if wearing the horns makes you happy, wear the damn horns. I'll glue dandelion fluff to you if that helps.”
Kris doesn't laugh like Susie hopes they will, but they don't seem angry, either. They stare at her like she's got ten heads.
“You're not weirded out?” They ask. Susie shrugs her shoulders, grinning mischievously.
“Meh, you're pretty weird already. This is just a bonus.”
Kris takes the horns, holding them up to their face. “Promise you won't laugh.”
A few months ago, Susie wouldn't have just laughed, she would've relished the opportunity to make fun of Kris for this. Not anymore.
She places a hand over her heart, bringing the other to her forehead in a mock salute. “Scout’s honor.”
They roll their bloodshot eyes at her, tears still falling here and there, before they slip the headband behind their ears and adjust the horns into position. It’s not hard to miss the way they instantly perk up- Susie actually does find it difficult to imagine Toriel squashing that confidence, but it doesn’t change the fact that she did, even though she had the best of intentions.
Rosy, pink blush floods into Kris’ cheeks. Fuck. She’s staring.
Say something, moron!
“You look more like Kris, I think.”
They seem to relax at that, gazing down into their lap before feeling around on the bed behind them for their phone. Once they find it, they click the camera icon and bring it up to their face. Nimble fingers fuss with their horns, then, their hair, and, finally, their clothes, before they seem ready to actually look at themselves.
And they look so happy.
Even though their face is still wet with tears and they’re sniffling like they’re fighting a cold, the smile on their face couldn’t make it any clearer.
“Oh shit, photo bomb!” Susie follows it with a few “yeah’s!” and “woo’s!” to really sell it. Kris elbows her in the rib as they flip their phone sideways, throwing up a peace sign while Susie flips off the camera with a grin. It quickly becomes their phone wallpaper; which, like matching outfits with your brother, is dorky as fuck.
“Dude, we should print that to show Ralsei!” Susie beams. Kris could do anything short of murder (realistically, including murder) and be clear of conscience in Ralsei's eyes; their darkner friend probably wouldn't even think twice about it. “Asriel's printer still has ink, right?”
“Oh, but I'm the dork,” Kris snorts. “Maybe I could, I dunno… bring them to Castle Town next time? Darkners don't know that I'm not supposed to have them.”
The obvious question of ‘Will the horns turn into a dysphoria-fueled darkner or some shit?’ goes unasked. It isn’t worth it to disrupt the grin on Kris’ face.
“You look like a kid on Christmas morning,” Susie teases. “Now come on, are we printing this shit to show everyone how badass you look or not?”
“Okay, okay! Just give me a second!”
Kris finally peels away from Susie to turn on Asriel’s printer. It hums to life as they fiddle with the buttons, sliding one of the cables into their phone’s charging port.
“Don’t, um… tell Noelle I said any of this,” they say suddenly. “Not that I think you would. I just. I wanna make sure.”
“I won’t, dude. I swear.”
Kris nods, keeping their gaze on the floor in front of them. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For listening.”
Susie smiles. She’d listen to Kris read the dictionary just to hear their voice; getting to know more about them while they speak is just an added bonus.
“Anytime, man.”