Showtime (A Sanscest Story)

The Soft Terrain

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Nightmare watched from above, inside his own tent. The amount of excitement in the circus made his tentacles curl in distaste. He thought about going out and causing some pain before he spotted movement. He focused to see Lust and Cross running. He tipped his head. What were they doing??

They were both clearly in a mischievous mood and smiling. Nightmare felt a small pinprick of warmth as he saw the genuine excitement on Cross' face. It was swallowed by his coldness and bitterness. Why wouldn't Cross ever make that face for him?

He sighed and turned away from the window. His tentacles flicked. He always had that outside source of pain from the Final Tent, not to mention Killer's pain, grief and anguish from a cracking SOUL. He licked his teeth. That would be enough to sustain him for right then.

He walked back over to the desk in the back. He slid open the drawer to get a pen and stared, his soul going cold, at the sight of two, dusty, golden gloves. They were short. He slammed the drawer shut in quiet anger. He raised his gaze over to his own black gloves, which were sitting out with a black top hat wrapped in a dark blue ribbon.

He knew that, even if he did try to look, he wouldn't find the gold top hat with the bright blue ribbon. That had gone missing from his tent ages ago and he knew who had taken it. He knew damn well who'd taken it. He thought about going to Killer's tent and confiscating it.

Even in the closet, there were two Ringmaster uniforms. One had been collecting dust and the other was Nightmare's. Nightmare was sure that Killer had tried to break in multiple times for the dusty one. Why was Nightmare even keeping it? He was the only Ringmaster now. The other was gone.

He'd been gone for some time now. Nightmare had made sure he was the only one left. Yet... His tentacles curled in distaste. Killer still refused to recognize him as the only Ringmaster. He refused to even call him by his proper title. The thought made his tentacles lash about in quiet anger.

"I sacrificed so much. Ungrateful brat." Nightmare muttered under his breath. "I make the show better by doing all I can. Getting rid of deadweight. Keeping everyone in line." His tentacles continued to lash agitatedly. He let out a low growl that echoed around his room. "I worked hard for this. I EARNED this."

Nightmare stopped in the middle of the room and closed his eye. He took a few deep breaths. In and out. He forced his tentacles to calm down. He continued like that for a few moments, clasping his bony fingers together in front of him. He focused on the floor.

And just like the past couple of weeks, Cross came creeping into his thoughts again. Nightmare slowly relaxed as he imagined Cross' smiling face. His SOUL warmed a little again. He'd never been so smitten with someone before. But him? Nightmare wanted him. He wanted Cross to be his and his alone. He knew the other was loyal.

He stared over at his bed, remembering how Cross had slept so comfortably in it. It was like he belonged there and if he asked, Nightmare would let him do it again without even a second thought. He became aware of his tentacles forming faint hearts behind him and he scowled, shaking it off. He wanted Cross' attention. He wanted his eyes on him.

Nightmare looked down, burying his face in one of his hands. "I've gone soft." He muttered, his tentacles beginning to lash again, this time out of agitation towards himself. He heard something break behind him and turned, his tentacles have smashed apart a chair.

That was the third time this week. He'd throw it with the others later. He sighed. He moved over to the window and raised a hand, pressing it against the transparent wall. He felt the coolness of the chilled air outside. He became aware of movement once again.

Cross was creeping around with... He blinked. He had a snowball in his hands. Nightmare was momentarily taken back before allowing himself a small bit of amused laughter. "How childish..." He murmured in quiet awe. He blinked as Cross tensed and turned to look up at his tent.

He still had his hand pressed up against the glass. Cross stood straight up, seeming confused before hesitantly lifting his own hand in response and waving. Nightmare was surprised. He felt his tentacles sway in quiet amusement. He pulled his hand back and gave a small wave in return.

Cross seemed surprised and looked down, like he was unsure of what to do. He shuffled awkwardly before turning away and moving further down the path. Nightmare watched him go with quiet fascination. He chuckled softly. "Cute."