part five :]
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The alcohol burned going down, even if it was absorbed near instantly. If there was ever a downside to being made of magic, it would be that, where it would take ages for a drink to affect a human, Monsters like Skeletons are affected far sooner. The absorption of those things makes the process quick and simple.
Skeleton monsters like Cross are affected near instantly. A relief, since he was somewhat afraid to know what would happen while he waited for the drinks to kick in, but at the same time, it was a rollercoaster.
Most monsters who don't have fleshy bodies, creatures such as those are raised with the teachings of how to be careful. Ingesting certain things needs to be done slowly, or you'll overdo it. An important lesson, really, but, chugging his fourth bottle in the past 15 minutes, Cross couldn't find a single fuck to give.
Why would he? He was an adult now, he could do whatever he pleased, and no one could tell him otherwise.
The cool glass of the bottle chilled his fingers, the clunk of wood against glass a pleasant sound. Cross let out a heavy breath, a groan bleeding into it towards the end. The room spun and the table looked fuzzy.
"Cross."
His head tipped back, metaphorically boneless. Dust's all-too-bright eyes gazed at him from below. Below? Wasn't Dust taller than Cross? He stared at him.
"What are you doing."
What a stupid question. What did it look like? Cross's teeth scraped each other, his voice no more than a hiss. "The fuck doessit look like? 'm drinking, dumbass." Dust's face moved. Weird.
Cross grabbed his bottle, taking a long sip, heedless of his visitor. The effect washed over him an instant later, a wave of pins and needles rolling up his body. He felt cold, but warm. His chest constricted and he gasped for air he didn't need as he put the bottle down with too much force. "Gimme 'nother."
Dust didn't move. His blood-red scarf, a smear of color that seemed to vibrate, didn't move either.
"No." Cross's eyes opened a little wider. "...what." Dust had crossed his arms, his face different again. Angrier. "I said no. Do you know what boss would say about this?"
"'mmnot a little kid."
"You're right, you're a grown-ass adult, and you're throwing a tantrum like a fucking toddler-"
"Ffuck off! 'm not here t'be lectured-"
He really doesn't recall what happened. It felt like blinking. Suddenly, Dust was gone, and there were more bottles, and his cheek stung. Cross touched the hurt with trembling fingers, his hand coming away wet with purple. He was bleeding? Why was he bleeding? His drinking slowed, the alcohol doing nothing to soothe the bubbling hurt.
Dust left. Cross didn't blame him for leaving.
Cool wood pressed against his cheek, jolting him out of his stupor only slightly. The tiny moment of clarity faded and he slumped further onto the table, exhausted. The lure of sleep beckoned, pulling at his eyes, at his very soul. He didn't bother trying to fight it. Maybe he won't ever wake up. Maybe he will.
̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷c̷k̷e̷d̷ ̷o̷n̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷'̷s̷ ̷s̷k̷u̷l̷l̷,̷ ̷g̷r̷i̷n̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷f̷r̷o̷m̷ ̷e̷a̷r̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷m̷e̷t̷a̷p̷h̷o̷r̷i̷c̷a̷l̷ ̷e̷a̷r̷.̷ ̷"̷K̷n̷o̷c̷k̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷c̷k̷.̷"̷ ̷T̷h̷e̷ ̷k̷i̷t̷c̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷t̷a̷b̷l̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷w̷a̷r̷m̷ ̷u̷n̷d̷e̷r̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷f̷a̷c̷e̷,̷ ̷h̷e̷a̷t̷e̷d̷ ̷b̷y̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷h̷o̷u̷r̷s̷ ̷s̷p̷e̷n̷t̷ ̷s̷l̷e̷e̷p̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷i̷t̷.̷
̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷i̷n̷h̷a̷l̷e̷d̷ ̷s̷l̷o̷w̷l̷y̷,̷ ̷s̷h̷u̷t̷t̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷e̷y̷e̷s̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷k̷i̷t̷c̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷s̷.̷ ̷"̷m̷m̷w̷h̷a̷t̷.̷.̷?̷"̷
̷"̷Y̷e̷r̷ ̷s̷u̷p̷p̷o̷s̷e̷d̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷a̷y̷ ̷'̷w̷h̷o̷'̷s̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷r̷e̷'̷.̷ ̷T̷r̷y̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷.̷"̷ ̷B̷o̷n̷y̷ ̷k̷n̷u̷c̷k̷l̷e̷s̷ ̷r̷a̷p̷p̷e̷d̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷s̷k̷u̷l̷l̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷.̷ ̷"̷K̷n̷o̷c̷k̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷c̷k̷,̷"̷ ̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷s̷a̷n̷g̷.̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷h̷u̷f̷f̷e̷d̷,̷ ̷f̷a̷i̷n̷t̷l̷y̷ ̷a̷m̷u̷s̷e̷d̷.̷ ̷"̷W̷h̷o̷'̷s̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷r̷e̷?̷"̷
̷"̷S̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷y̷.̷"̷
̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷'̷s̷ ̷e̷y̷e̷s̷ ̷c̷r̷a̷c̷k̷e̷d̷ ̷o̷p̷e̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷e̷s̷t̷ ̷b̷i̷t̷.̷ ̷"̷S̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷y̷ ̷w̷h̷o̷?̷"̷
̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷'̷s̷ ̷g̷r̷i̷n̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷b̷r̷i̷g̷h̷t̷e̷r̷ ̷t̷h̷a̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷k̷i̷t̷c̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷s̷.̷ ̷"̷D̷o̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷w̷ ̷'̷e̷m̷!̷"̷
̷T̷h̷e̷ ̷j̷o̷k̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷a̷w̷f̷u̷l̷.̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷l̷a̷u̷g̷h̷e̷d̷,̷ ̷t̷u̷r̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷h̷e̷a̷d̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷m̷u̷f̷f̷l̷e̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷o̷u̷n̷d̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷t̷a̷b̷l̷e̷.̷ ̷"̷S̷h̷u̷t̷ ̷u̷p̷,̷ ̷i̷d̷i̷o̷t̷.̷"̷ ̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷c̷a̷c̷k̷l̷e̷d̷,̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷l̷y̷ ̷p̷u̷s̷h̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷a̷t̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷'̷s̷ ̷s̷h̷o̷u̷l̷d̷e̷r̷s̷.̷ ̷"̷C̷'̷m̷o̷n̷,̷ ̷s̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷y̷.̷ ̷H̷o̷r̷r̷o̷r̷ ̷m̷a̷d̷e̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷ ̷s̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷c̷h̷o̷c̷o̷l̷a̷t̷e̷ ̷p̷a̷n̷c̷a̷k̷e̷s̷,̷ ̷a̷n̷d̷ ̷B̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷w̷a̷n̷t̷s̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷y̷a̷.̷"̷
̷"̷B̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷w̷a̷n̷t̷s̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷y̷a̷.̷"̷
̷"̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷.̷"̷
̷"̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷.̷"̷
̷"̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷,̷ ̷a̷r̷e̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷ ̷l̷i̷s̷t̷e̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷m̷e̷?̷ ̷I̷ ̷s̷a̷i̷d̷-̷"̷
"-boss wants to see ya."
He jerked up, pain throbbing in his skull, his teeth aching from being pressed against the hard wood all night long. Drool had dried on them, the nasty feeling making him shiver, so he wiped it off and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyesockets. As if it would push the pain out.
Plastic, wet from condensation and blessedly cold, was pressed to his forehead. He didn't dare open his eyes to see who gave it to him, simply muttering a thanks and blindly opening it to chug it down.
"s'nothin. now go. boss called."
Cross groaned, dreading the moment he'd have to stand. For now, he simply sat, and tried to get his hangover under control-
"Cross! Wake the fuck up!"
He jerked up, knives in hand instantly, his soul racing. "WhATS HAPPENING-?!" Something smacked him, bringing his knee-jerk reaction to a stop, the back of his skull aching. Killer's grouchy voice came back, tinged with heavy relief. "You dumbass, you fucking scared us! What the hell are you doing here??"
The table was clean, lacking bottles entirely. ̷B̷o̷t̷t̷l̷e̷s̷? Cross blinked, and wiped at his mouth, his breath hitching with his confusion. "Killer-"
Dust was standing behind Killer, his eyes wide in worry. ̷W̷h̷e̷r̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷s̷c̷a̷r̷f Killer's hand was on Cross's shoulder, tight from his own worry, his face twisted in angry fear. Cross shook his head, nausea rising quickly. His head spun, warmth spreading down his chin. The taste of blood filled his mouth.
Killer swore loudly, pulling at his own jacket sleeve and bunching it into his hand to press to Cross's nose. "Shit, shit, Dust, go get boss." Dust vanished quickly, teleporting away. Throbbing pain spread from the back of his head, his eyelights stinging. Panic grew, Cross grabbing at Killer's arm, desperate for any form of comfort.
Something filled his mouth, the taste of it vile and disgusting. It pushed his teeth, threatening to burst out. Cross whimpered and shoved Killer away hard before turning in his chair to vomit, his eyes burning with tears.
Spoiled magic spilled from his mouth, reeking of alcohol and laced with the darker purple color of blood. Killer made a sound, disgusted or horrified, or even both, and Cross could only sit there, panting with blood dripping from his nose and vomit clinging to his chin. Tears welled up and Cross burst into tears.
"Cross- Oh my stars-"
Nightmare. Nightmare was here. He would make it better, he always made it better. ̷W̷h̷y̷ ̷d̷i̷d̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷h̷e̷ ̷m̷a̷k̷e̷ ̷i̷t̷ ̷b̷e̷t̷t̷e̷r̷ ̷b̷a̷c̷k̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷n̷? Cross sobbed a broken version of Nightmare's name, reaching out blindly for him like a crying child searching for his dad.
H̷e̷ ̷d̷i̷d̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷f̷o̷r̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷b̷e̷f̷o̷r̷e̷,̷ ̷h̷e̷ ̷w̷o̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷n̷o̷w̷ Familiar hands cupped his cheeks despite the mess of tears, blood, and vomit. "Cross, Cross, hey, listen to me-" Cross clung to him, gasping through his tears, but already, everything that hurt was fading away. He doesn't want to think about that weird dream he'd woken up from.
̷I̷t̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷a̷ ̷d̷r̷e̷a̷m̷,̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷.̷
—
"A bad dream?"
Cross's throat still hurt. According to everyone, Cross hadn't been crying, he'd been screaming. He doesn't recall such a thing. But, the hoarseness of his voice was proof of it. "Yeah."
Nightmare had taken Cross from the kitchen and talked him down from his panic. Cross had been too exhausted by then to argue when Nightmare set about bathing him. Normally, he could do it by himself, but he was far too tired to.
The water was heavenly, the warmth of it a balm against Cross's frayed nerves. Nightmare sat on the floor by the tub, a damp rag in his hand. His sleeves were rolled up. "Would it be too much to share?"
Cross shook his head, sleepy and dazed. He sank a little further into the shallow tub, enjoying the feel of water lapping at his lower jaw. The castle's indoor bathhouse had been filled, and Cross had been placed in the shallowest part when it became clear he couldn't hold himself up.
He could see Killer and Dust fighting on the other side of the room, splashing water at each other and dunking one another into the water, attempting to drown each other. They wouldn't let it actually happen, of course. It was just playing.
Horror was lying in a floaty, watching the splash-fight and munching on a candy bar. The bathhouse was more of an indoor pool. They used it for actual bathing, yes, but they used it twice as much as a swimming pool. Hence the pile of floaties and pool noodles in the center of the room, where the failed jacuzzi was.
̷T̷h̷a̷t̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷a̷ ̷f̷u̷n̷ ̷s̷t̷o̷r̷y̷.̷ ̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷h̷a̷d̷ ̷w̷a̷n̷t̷e̷d̷ ̷a̷ ̷j̷a̷c̷u̷z̷z̷i̷,̷ ̷b̷u̷t̷ ̷i̷t̷ ̷t̷u̷r̷n̷e̷d̷ ̷o̷u̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷p̷l̷u̷m̷b̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷t̷o̷o̷ ̷a̷n̷c̷i̷e̷n̷t̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷u̷p̷p̷o̷r̷t̷ ̷s̷o̷m̷e̷t̷h̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷m̷o̷d̷e̷r̷n̷.̷
The failed jacuzzi was a mystery. Nightmare refused to say where it came from, and none of the others knew.
"Cross?"
He hummed, pulling his attention back to Nightmare and away from Killer and Dust. Nightmare had lathered up his rag with soap, one hand held out expectantly. Obediently, Cross set his own hand in Nightmare's and watched absently as his boss diligently cleaned the bones.
Before quiet could settle too much, Nightmare prompted Cross again to share his bad dream. "Oh.. Uh. It was just."
Cross rolled his words around, mulling over them. It wasn't a bad dream, so much as an unsettling one. He told Nightmare as much, and the other nodded. "A nightmare is not defined by the events, but rather the emotions it evokes." Cross cringed slightly, put off by the word choice. It was strange to call it a nightmare. Hard to do so, when the word typically brought feelings of comfort. Cross shook his head, pushing the thoughts away and instead focusing on retelling his dream.
"It was just. Me. At the, uh, table, drinking. I was just. Drinking. I was upset about something, i think. And, um. Dust showed up." Unease bloomed in his chest, imagery fresh on his mind. "He asked me what I was doing, and I just asked him to get me another drink, and he said no and something like 'you know what boss would think about this.' Uh." The anger on Dust's face was so strange to remember. He'd never seen Dust look that way before.
"I remember seeing his scarf and it was really bright for some reason. I got mad and told him that I'm not a little kid and he said that I was an adult, but I was throwing a tantrum like a kid. I uh, got mad again and told him to fuck off and he left and I drank some more and got sad and passed out." Nightmare paused, glancing to the side, his brow furrowed. Cross didn't notice, rambling on still. "And then I had a dream? It was just- Killer was there, and he knocked on my head and made a knock knock joke, and I woke up from that dream and I was back at the other dream. 'cept, I had a hang over, and someone gave me water and said you were calling me."
Cross rubbed his forehead, the phantom feelings of the cold water bottle sending shivers down his spine. "And I woke up. It just, all of it felt so- it all felt so real, like I was seeing another reality? And I woke up, but I was already awake, I had been awake three times and-" Nightmare shushed him, tapping a finger on one of Cross's knuckles. "I think I understand, that is enough. Don't push yourself to remember, you will work yourself up once more."
Cross nodded, shaking away the spots in his vision. Well. At least he was more awake now. "..Cross." He looked back up to Nightmare, frowning at the odd tone in his voice. "Yeah, boss?"
"What was the joke Killer made?"
Cross blinked. And once more. "What?"
"The, em. Knock-knock joke." That was such a weird question to ask. Cross decided to not question it. "Okay, it's uh."
"Shall I help you enact it?"
"Yeah. Knock knock."
"Who is there?"
"Sad boy."
"Sad boy who?"
"Don't know 'em."
Nightmare's face went through a million different expressions in that instant. Frowning, Cross lightly squeezed his boss's hand. "Boss? You okay?" Nightmare shut his eye briefly, returning the squeeze with a smile. "Yes, I'm alright. It is nothing you should worry about. Now, your other hand, please?"
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["I wouldn't dare hope this time. It's always a false alarm.."]
somethin's happening :0