The Show Must Go On {Sanscest}

Stain The Snow Red

(If you want to skip something, the scenes end after the next -----)

Cross left the Ringmaster's tent before Nightmare could return from wherever he had gone to. He had to do his best to not limp.

His Chara was definitely pissed at him, giving him an annoyed look the whole time he walked through the circus. They seemed betrayed, but he understood the reason.

"I can't believe you actually fell so low to betray the one you swore yourself to!" they exclaimed. Cross felt the guilt rush through him. "And with his–"

"Enough!" Cross snapped at him. His hands were shaking. "Don't say another word," he hissed, glaring at his ghostly companion, trying to ignore the guilt that was trying to eat him alive.

"And you don't even regret it.. Do you?" Their voice was a quiet whisper.

Cross didn't answer. He turned around and began rushing towards the newcomers tent. He stopped midway as he spotted Killer.

"Ay, Criss-Cross! C'mere and help me out a bit!" the younger knife thrower called out immediately as he noticed him.

"What are you doing?" Cross asked, tipping his skull as he walked – trying his best not to make the limping obvious – to him.

"Need to get these boxes to the prop tent. Promised to help Blue," Killer explained. "He fixed my knife belt and now I gotta repay that for him."

"I see," Cross nodded. "What are in these?" he asked, peeking into the closest one.

"Props from yesterday's show. Blue and Ink need 'em back in the prop tent for reusin' or somethin'," the younger shrugged, picking up one of the boxes.

Cross hummed, picking up a box. He peeked into it. There were multiple props, but between them was something that didn't seem to quite fit the rest of the items. It was a letter, probably had fallen in by accident. He reached for it to see who it was for.

It burnt his fingers. Well, not actually, but that's what it felt like. On the envelope was a name written with his own handwriting. It was already opened, but not empty.

Chara was frozen by him. Killer was already walking away, heading towards the prop tent. Quickly Cross pocketed the letter before rushing after Killer, still in shock.

"What's with that look? Didja see a ghost or some shit?" Killer joked, raising a browbone at Cross' pale face.

"No." That was a lie. Chara seemed a bit offended.

"You're paler than a skeleton should be," Killer hummed, tilting his skull, curious.

"It's nothing, just feeling a bit under the weather. It's so cold," Cross answered, trying to brush it off.

Killer looked at him for a moment before just humming. Cross could still sense his curiosity, but Killer didn't seem to be about to push it any further.

-----

     Chara hissed in pain as the whip cracked on their face, making them stumble backwards. Blood trickled down from the nose, staining their clothes. They collapsed on the ground.

"What were you doing outside after the curfew last night?" Nightmare inquired, staring at them with a raised browbone. He was angry. The performers weren't supposed to break his rules.

"I wasn't– Ah!" Chara cried out as another crack of the whip rang through the air. The pain stung in their shoulder.

"Don't lie to me," Nightmare snapped before reaching towards the human before him. They tried to dodge out of the way, but weren't fast enough.