One-shots [Reqs: 5]

Can U Get Pregante - 4

The souling simply answered with a warm humming, the silent vibration flooding his eyes with fresh tears. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do a single thing to it.

Cross chuckled weakly, the sound watery. Epic was right. He was a big softy.

̶E̶p̶i̶c̶?̶

He blinked, eyes widening. Epic-

The temperature in the room dipped, the cold burning against the wet tracks left by his tears. He stiffened, ripping his hands away from his stomach and mouth and fumbling to pick up the IV needle. He whipped it up as Nightmare came speeding out of the shadows, the usually graceful and cold king stumbling into an unused cot.

The bed clattered under the sudden movements, springs creaking under Nightmare's hands as he pushed himself away and looked directly at Cross. Nightmare's eyelight was feverishly bright with c̶o̶n̶c̶e̶r̶n anger. His thrashing tentacles tightly coiled into a ball at his back, his voice unsteadily calm. "Cross?"

Cross's watery eyelights grew thin and sharp and he bared his teeth, his hand shakily wielding the only weapon he had. "Get away f-from me." Nightmare took a slow step around the cot. Inhaling sharply, Cross hoarsely snapped at him, "Stay the fuck away from me!"

Nightmare stopped short, holding his hands up, his expression twisting into something Cross couldn't understand. His eyes fluttered as he tried, tried, to summon anything. His soul throbbed in response. Nightmare took a small step closer, and Cross's breath hitched, panic welling up in his throat. "Cross-"

"Leave! I don't want you in here, get--" Cross rubbed at his face aggressively, breathing heavily, "Get out, just get out." Nightmare's hands lowered slightly, a faint grimace on his face. "I can't do that, Cross." Panting openly, Cross yanked at his magic and gasped at the responding wave of exhaustion. His eyelights flickered and his hand went limp, the needle clicking against the tile as his hand dropped, and he slumped like a puppet with cut strings, his body heavy.

His eyelights stayed dimly lit, eyes lidded as he clung to consciousness. He wanted to be awake when it happened. He wanted to be there. H̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶. The blackness rushed forward, eager to rip into him, to tear him apart and kill and destroy-

To cradle him and gently lift him off the floor. The hateful black was overly forgiving, plush coolness easing him into the nearest cot, Nightmare's voice like white noise. Soft cloth covered his body, thick and warm. His soul was coaxed into forming, caring hands cupping it. The intent was like a balm on his aching soul, the want to help and to save overpowering.

A faint chill brushed against his soul, and magic came flooding in. It was like a shockwave of energy, power rushing through his useless body. Warmth came with it, his cold bones heating with the new abundance of magic. Over and over, the intent to care for hit a chord in his soul, potent in its strength. Cross wasn't sure he'd ever felt anything like that from anyone before.

---

Nightmare hissed, his corruption rippling as he pushed a little more magic into Cross's soul. It drank it down almost greedily, taking anything Nightmare would give it. The weak positivity, fragile yet still there, stung against Nightmare's own soul. Echoes of Cross's emotions flitted through his soul, a complicated knot of so much negativity and little positivity, full of fear and desperate hope alike. He wasn't sure that was something he could fix.

He lessened the flow of magic slowly, the stream turning into a trickle, then drops, before finally stopping altogether. Cross's soul was no longer alarmingly pale or dry, the organ full of powerful magic that would hopefully last a while. Nightmare gentled their souls apart, shutting out the odd flash of longing that flickered briefly, and nudged Cross's soul back to his body.