Work Text:
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
It was so loud.
Way too loud.
There was no air.
No air to breathe.
Why couldn't it stop hurting? Why couldn't it be quiet? Why couldn't he breathe?
Dust curled himself up in a ball. His hands, his whole body was shaking. And in pain. It hurt so much.
Yet, no tears fell from his eyes.
Why was he like this?
Why couldn't he just fucking disappear?!
It hurt.
Breathing was useless.
His body heaved and he blacked out for a second. When he blinked, he found vomit on the ground next to his bed. It reeked of stale magic and food he had forced himself to swallow down during dinner to not raise any suspicion.
He was shaking. Freezing yet too hot.
His throat closed, no words able to escape his mouth anymore.
It hurt.
Yet, his eyes were dry.
His vision was swimming, blackening at its edges. He just closed his eyes and returned to curling up.
It hurt.
This was too much.
This was worse than ever before.
He deserved this.
He deserved this pain and suffering.
He deserved to feel his soul breaking.
Squeezing past the wedge in his throat; Dust could only do a single thing now.
Scream.
[but nobody came.]
(or did they?)
It can be considered lucky that nobody was home. It also might be considered lucky that Error fucked up opening his portal thanks to arguing with Blue. It might be considered lucky that neither Error nor Blue looked where they were going when stepping through the portal.
"Error, this is not stupid-" Blue said, cutting himself off after feeling the energy shift around them.
Error stopped walking as well. He hadn't wanted to be here. He wasn't thinking when he opened the portal. "Oops, this is the wrong place to be," Error apologized and shrugged.
He shot a look at Blue who was standing stiffer than before. The soldier seemed uncomfortable, his hands in fists at his sides, his back straightened, his breathing shallow, his stance wide and stable. Blue looked like he was ready to fight.
"Hey, you okay?" Error asked and tilted his head.
"I-…I guess. I don't know," Blue answered and shifted on his feet. "It's probably because of Nightmare's aura."
Error considered that. It must be true since Blue usually hung out with Dream and the God of Positivity liked to have everybody around and close to him feeling good and nice, so he presses his aura onto everyone. At least that's what Nightmare told him Dream always did. Error couldn't care less; he wasn't affected by the Gods presence anyway.
But for Blue it must feel horrible to not only be away from Dream but also be somewhere that had Nightmare clinging in every corner.
Error concentrated but he couldn't make out the God of Negativity anywhere. Were Nightmare actually in his castle, Error would notice. How he did that? Error didn't know. It was a talent he had developed since he hung out so much with Nightmare and his gang.
"He's not here, you don't have to worry," Error said. It took Blue probably another minute until he relaxed but he got there eventually.
"Can we leave?" he asked and hugged his arms around his middle.
"Of course, didn't want to bring you here anyway," Error muttered and turned to open a portal back to the Antivoid from where he could bring Blue back to his home.
A scream rang though the castle.
It was loud.
And painful.
And-
"Dust," Error breathed and started to run towards the stairs that led from the front door up to the living area.
"Error, wait!" Blue called but Error didn't even think about waiting another second. Blue ran after him, his legs longer than Error's, and he caught up quickly.
A hand grabbed Error and brought him to a halt on the middle of the stairs. "Error, wait."
"Let me g-"
"What if one of the others are here? They are gonna kill me when they see me," Blue asked.
Error exhaled and ripped his arm free from Blue.
"You don't understand, Blue." Error shook his head. Dust has never screamed before. Never. Not even when he was in immense pain and close to dying. Dust never even raised his voice. Always hiding his pain. Always.
Dust would never scream.
Something was incredibly wrong.
"We should check at least," Blue suggested and Error sighed.
Something in him wanted to get to Dust immediately, no more delays. But with the way Blue looked at him, genuinely scared, he could only nod.
Relief shone in Blue's eyes and Error didn't wait any longer. He continued running up the stairs and into the living area. There was nobody standing at the stove preparing food, nobody sitting on the sofa and playing video games, nobody in the armchair reading a book.
Error looked at Blue. "You happy now?" he asked, meaner than he intended to but he didn't care, couldn't care at the moment.
Blue still looked unsure but gestured for Error to go and lead the way to Dust. Error didn't let himself get invited twice and bolted towards where the bedrooms were. He had no idea which ones was Dust, never actually been in a bedroom of the others (well, except to visit Killer once after he got hurt but that was a quick in and out since the guy wouldn't shut up).
However, it was easy to find Dust's room. The only closed door in the whole hallway.
"Dust!" Error called and turned the doorknob. Or tried. The door was locked from the inside.
Error's breathing became quicker; this was not good. So very not good. He listened intently but could not make out a single sound from inside of Dust's room.
"Dust, open the door!" Error shouted and rattled the doorknob, stupidly hoping for a different outcome than before.
That was when Blue gently pushed him out of the way. "Blue-" Error wanted to ask but the sound of the door splintering and getting destroyed cut him off.
Blue had hit the lock with one of his blue-shimmering bones and effectively opened it. (Hey, breaking and unlocking a door both result in the door being open.)
Error squeezed through, uncaring of the wood splinters that dug into his legs and clothes. "Dust!"
The room was dark, so dark that it was almost impossible to see anything. The window had thick curtains hanging in front of it, blocking out every bit of light that could shine through it. Every piece of furniture was made from dark oak and even the small carpet on the floor was black.
It smelled like sickness.
But Error could see him, lying on his bed. Dust was curled up into a ball, his chest moving only inches with every breath he took. Breaths that Error could hear rasping.
"Fuck."
He rushed over to Dust's beside and stepped into something wet and warm on the floor but he didn't care. Dust had his eyes open but unfocused, his mouth open to weakly pull air into his body.
Error leaned down and Dust blinked once, apparently recognizing the other if the way his eyes widened the tiniest bit was any indication.
"Shit shit shit shit!" Error cursed and snapped his head back up to Blue. "Go get Nightmare!"
"Get Nightmare..?" he asked the glitch that was cowering over Dust.
Dust looked horrible and Blue stood frozen in the door. He was panicking, he didn't know what to do. It was his job to help people, so why could he think of anything to do?!
Error didn't even look at him. "Go. Get. Nightmare."
The command felt familiar. Blue had always been a follower, not a leader. Even though he wanted to be but there was always Alphys or Toriel who's commands he had to follow.
"Yes, Error," Blue answered and left Dust's room. He went back into the hallway and froze. How exactly was he supposed to call Nightmare? He had never done that before so how the hell was he going to accomplish that now.
For a second he thought about going back to ask Error but then he remembered something. Dream was able to travel to AUs through positive feelings. And Dream and Nightmare were basically twins. So, should it work the same for Nightmare but with negative feelings?
Blue's head was swimming; Gods were so confusing why did he have to interact with them. (As if he wasn't friends with them but that's beside the point.)
He closed his eyes, this needed concentration. Bad feelings, bad feeling, bad feelings. Blue was so confused.
"Just think about something bad," he muttered to himself.
This whole situation was bad. Dust's life was in danger; Error counted on him. And what did Blue do? Fail to get the person that could help Dust, could save his life! Should Dust die, it would be all his fault. Should Dust die, the others would come after him, seeking revenge. Should Dust die, the other Stars, his other friends would be in grave danger. If Blue failed then they were all doomed. They would be hunted down all throughout the AUs, they would die to Nightmare and his Gang's hands. And it would all be his fault.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
The voice was deep and threatening and Blue froze. He felt how Horror pressed his axe in his back. Killer rounded him and appeared in his view, a knife twirling between his fingers.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Are you lost, Blueberry?" Killer grinned and tilted Blue's head up with his knife.
"Stop that, Kills," Cross said and pulled Killer a step away from Blue. "You too, Axe." Blue felt how the pressure on his back disappeared.
"Blue." Nightmare sounded dangerous and Blue shivered. "What are you doing here?"
"I-"
"Nightmare!" Error stood in the doorframe of Dust's room and cut Blue off. "Quickly, Dust is dying."
Nightmare moved instantly, completely the opposite reaction from Killer, Horror, and Cross. Error and Nightmare closed Dust's door, leaving the other four standing outside.
"What?" Cross asked quietly.
Killer pushed Blue against the next wall. A big picture Blue didn't get to look at swayed dangerously above his head. "What the fuck happened?" Killer asked, one arm pinning Blue against the wall over his neck and in his other hand he held his knife again. His voice was shaking and whatever these black tears were started leaking heavily over his face.
"Kills," Cross said weakly and put a hand on the others arm.
"Killer, you're leaking," Horror said and pulled Killer away from Blue and towards himself. Cross joined the two. He ripped off a piece off his cape and turned Killer's head towards himself. With the cloth he started to wipe away the black streaks on Killer's face.
Blue noticed Killer's hands were shaking and he dropped the knife he was holding. Something akin to a sob left his mouth. Horror's face was dark and he pulled Killer into his arms. Cross put the now tainted back cloth away and inhaled shakily.
Then he nudged Horror. "Come, let's go sit down."
Horror nodded and picked up Killer. They left towards where Blue assumed was the living room, his memory a bit fuzzy.
Cross followed a few steps before turning around and facing Blue. It stunned the solider to see Cross so weak. "Follow me."
Hastily, Blue followed Cross into the living room. Horror and Killer had sat down on the couch, Killer leaning against Horror's shoulder and staring ahead into the black TV. Cross joined them, leaning on Horror's other side. Horror had his red eye closed and his head tilted back.
Blue felt pity for them. He didn't like Nightmare's gang and would rather see them contained somewhere and defeated instead of roaming around freely. But nobody deserved this. Nobody deserved to hope and cry and pray for their friend to stay alive.
Something stirred in Blue's soul. He couldn't just stand around and do nothing. Wasn't it his job as a Star to protect and make people happy again? Work for smiles? Yes, that was his purpose with the Stars. And that's what he's gonna do.
Connected to the living room was a kitchen. Blue liked the open concept and went to it. (Cross blinked and watched Blue roaming around their kitchen but didn't say anything.) He opened the fridge and found the pastry and where they kept their gadgets. Food always helped when Blue was feeling down, so at least it was worth a shot.
He pulled out butter and sugar and butter and whisked them together until fluffy. Then he added eggs one by one. Lastly, he changed between adding flour and buttermilk and kept mixing until the batter was smooth. He rummaged through one shelf and found the waffle iron. It heated up quickly enough and Blue got to making the waffles.
(Cross had sat up straight and even Horror opened his eye again, having smelled the waffles.)
Blue brought the waffles and a few plates and cutlery over to the other three. Horror looked at the food with a mix of hunger and distrust. Cross however just loaded some on his plate and ate them.
"Don't worry, Axe, Blue's cooking is incredible," he said to Horror, mouth full.
"Ah, I'm not that good," Blue said embarrassed by the compliment and shrugged. "Cross's cooking was always better than mine."
"You can cook?" came a very quiet question from Horror's other side. Killer tilted his head the tiniest bit and looked at Cross.
"I…uh, well-"
"Yes, he can. He used to always cook for us, even gave me some tips before he joined you," Blue said with a smile and Cross turned away. (Out of embarrassment or guilt, Blue didn't want to know.)
Killer looked up at Horror. "Can Cross cook for us at some point, Horror?" he asked.
Something made Horror freeze the tiniest bit but Blue didn't know what. But the guy caught himself quickly and nodded. "If Cross wants to," he answered Killer with a tiny smile.
Killer didn't return the smile though and just continued to stare ahead.
"Uh, do you want something to eat, Killer?" Blue asked and crouched down in front of him, a plate in his hand. Killer blinked at him and didn't answer for a solid minute.
Then: "No, thanks, Blue."
Now Blue knew why Horror had reacted like that. Something was horribly wrong with Killer when he started calling everybody by their real names instead of the mass amount of nicknames he had for all of them.
"Killer, please," Horror said and took the food from Blue. "You'll feel better."
Killer just stared at the waffles, no emotion on his face. But the black tears started to run down his cheeks again.
"H-hey," Blue said carefully. "Everything will be alright."
"How would you know," Killer asked, his head snapping up and he stared at Blue. "How would you know?! Huh?!"
Blue flinched at the raised voice and fell backwards on the floor from his crouched position. Killer was now standing over him menacingly.
"Tell me, little royal guard," Killer snarled and pressed his heel into Blue's chest.
"Killer," Horror tried but Killer pushed his arm away.
"Have you ever experienced the loss of a family member, Blue?" Killer laughed, the black leaking strongly from his eyes again.
"I-" Blue didn't even get to answer.
"Because you haven't." Killer leaned down and was now only inches away from Blue's face. "You aren't even a real Sans."
"Kills, that's enough." Blue watched Killer's soul turn purple and how he got lifted off of Blue. Cross had his hand outstretched and carefully sat Killer down on the ground again.
"Don't say stuff like that, Kills," Cross said. Killer turned away, his hands as fists at his sides. He was shaking again.
There was uncomfortable silence filling the room now. A silence where Horror and Cross both reached out for Killer but he didn't take their hands, didn't let them get close to him.
"I have faith, Killer," Blue said, breaking the quiet and gaining the attention from the other three immediately.
"What?" Killer asked.
Blue pulled himself up and now sat on the ground, leaning back on his hands. "I believe in both Error and Nightmare. They won't let Dust die when they can do something about it."
"Are you a doctor? What would you know about all this and if Dust can be saved?" Killer asked but there was a glimmer of desperation and hope underneath all the aggression.
"I'm not a doctor but let's be real now," Blue said. "There are literally two Gods trying everything in their combined power to save Dust's life."
There was stunned silence for a second. Killer stared at the ground.
"You know, he's right," Cross said slowly.
"Nightmare won't let Dust die anyway." Blue shrugged and moved to sit crisscrossed.
They stared at him with wide eyes.
"What? Did I say something weird?" Blue laughed, embarrassed.
The three exchanged a look. (None of them actually thought about the fact that Nightmare, their Boss, was currently trying to safe his family. Because, in the end, that is what they were: a family. With lots of downs but also many ups. And Nightmare was the reason they even found each other, the reason they could become friends, family, in the first place. So, of course, Nightmare wouldn't let Dust die. Not if he could do something about it.)
Killer sighed and sat back down next to Horror. Horror put an arm around Killer and pulled him a bit closer. Blue shifted to be on his feet again and grabbed another waffle, handing it to Killer who actually took it this time.
With a suspicious look, he broke off a piece with his hand, completely ignoring the offered fork, and popped it in his mouth. A second later he closed his eyes at the taste of it. Blue grinned, he loved when people liked his food.
(At home with the Stars he was always reminded how his cooking wasn't as good as Cross' had been. Often enough, both Dream and Ink refused to eat together with him. He knew it was because they were judging him silently, but they only said that they didn't need food regularly to live anyway and rather wanted to go over plans or tactics or whatever. Sometimes it made Blue feel incredibly lonely and homesick.)
"This tastes amazing, Blueberry," Killer sighed. "Rory, you gotta copy his recipe, I wanna eat this more often from now on."
Horror looked at Blue with a questioning tilt of the head and Blue nodded with a smile.
The soldier watched the other three eat their waffles. He noticed how their mood started to lighten and the air and atmosphere weren’t as suffocating anymore.
It was weird though, watching three heads snap up and stare into the direction of the door and only then hearing two sets of footsteps coming closer. Blue thought about asking about that for a moment before deciding he actually didn't wanna know how the others knew Nightmare was approaching.
And suddenly, a wave of anxiety visibly crashed over Horror, Killer, and Cross. (It will forever wonder Blue how people like that could worry so much about another living being.)
"Is he-" Killer started but got cut off by Error.
"Blue made waffles?!" the Demigod of Destruction exclaimed and ran towards the handful of waffles that were still left. He greedily loaded two on a plate. Only then did he notice the weird looks everyone but Blue was shooting at him.
"Blue's waffles are delicious and he doesn't make them nearly enough." Error shrugged and turned his attention back to the food.
Blue giggled but that only made Error look at him. Which was a big mistake.
"Did you eat?" Error asked, voice low.
"I'm not hungry," Blue said with a fake smile and raised his hands.
Error sighed disappointedly. "Blue."
"Error, I'm fine, I-" Blue tried to defend but now there was a plate with a waffle in his face.
"Eat," Horror said from the couch, pointing at the plate Killer was holding out in front of him.
"I-I don't need food-" Blue tried to say and pushed the plate away.
"Blue," Cross interrupted him. Well, shit. "I will tell everyone here about your relationship with food if you don't eat right now," he threatened and Blue flinched at his tone of voice.
Because Cross knew. Not even Error knew everything. All Error was aware of was that Blue had to make food all on his own. But Cross? Oh, Cross knew it all. He knew about the times both Ink and Dream forced them on missions without considering sleep or food. He knew about the times they had to beg Dream to take them on a supply run because they ran out of food. He knew about the times they laid together in bed, their stomach growling and cramping and demanding any form of food. He knew about the times Dream and Ink gave them barely a minute to gather food from an AU before deeming it a waste of time and forcing them to leave with like two items in total.
Error might not be a threat to all the secrets Blue is hiding about his well-being, but Cross certainly is.
With the slightest bit of hesitance, Blue took the plate and joined Error with eating. It was weird, he felt watched. He knew Cross was making sure he would eat all of the waffle.
(What Blue didn't know was that Cross took note of every single one of the soldier's movements and reactions. Cross knew how long Blue sometimes went without eating. He knew because he had been there for it. (Oh, how he had hoped Blue would leave with him and not stay with the Stars.) And even though Blue was his "enemy" he couldn't stop the worry that now weighed his chest down.)
"Boss," Killer asked, his voice unstable. Apparently, he wanted to say something more but he only opened and closed his mouth, no words escaping.
Nightmare looked tired. But neither him nor Error seemed like Dust was still actively dying.
"Dust is alive," Nightmare said and let himself fall into a big, cushioned armchair next to the couch.
"Thank goodness," Cross exhaled and fell back against the couch again. Horror immediately lost the tension in his shoulders. Killer swayed a bit on his feet and staggered to grab a chair and fell down into it. And even Blue had to admit that his soul felt lighter after hearing that.
"But I'm going to be honest," Nightmare continued and every eye (well, except Error's) were glued back at him, "it's not looking good."
"His soul is really damaged and neither Nightmare nor I are soul doctors," Error explained.
Nightmare waved his hand towards the glitch. "What he said."
"So, Dust is going to die?" Cross asked. He sounded numb, not even the fear he was obviously feeling, seeping into his voice.
"No." Nightmare sounded final. "I won't let that happen if I can still do something."
Error shot a look at Nightmare. Blue couldn't read it.
"We are not letting Dust die so easily and will do all we can to prevent that." Error looked at Nightmare again but the God of Negativity had his cyan eye closed and his head leaned back.
Blue was now finished with his food and both him and Error stood up.
"I'll bring Blue home and come back later," Error announced and opened a glitchy portal to the vast whiteness of the Antivoid. Blue looked back at the four skeletons he was leaving behind. He hoped deeply that Dust would get better again and not leave the others behind like this.
After the portal closed, Killer turned to Nightmare. "Don't lie to us."
"Kills," Cross tried to calm him down but Killer took a step towards Nightmare.
"If Dust is dying and cannot be saved by you and Error or anyone, then fucking tell us now so that we won't be surprised later," Killer demanded.
Usually, Nightmare wouldn't let Killer talk to him like that. But he was tired. And he could literally feel their fear and anxiety and the dread that hung over their heads like a blade.
Nightmare fixated each one of them before ending on Killer.
"He won't die."
What a lie.
It had been getting better. Dust could even walk and take part in their normal life again. But Dust knew. Because he felt it.
Every day, every time Error and Nightmare tried everything to heal him, he knew it was temporary. Stolen time. He could feel how his health got better, how his body got stronger again. But his soul stayed broken, leaking, damaged. It was too late for him and Dust knew that.
But neither Error nor Nightmare did. And therefore Horror, Killer, and Cross didn't either.
With heavy breaths did Dust force himself upwards, stair after stair. He didn't want to be in his room or anywhere near the living area for this.
The staircase wound upwards and ended on one of the higher up roofs of the castle, of his home. Dust would've shortcutted but using his magic would have only killed him even faster.
And Dust was selfish. And afraid.
He didn't want to die. Even after everything he wanted nothing more than to just have a life. A life with them. A life where he wouldn't be stuck in his head. A life without Fate forcing his way. A life where he could learn to be happy.
It was selfish and Dust didn't deserve the happiness he wished for.
But god, he didn't want to have to leave them. They were his family after all. (And even though he killed his last family over and over again, he was so grateful for this chance he got gifted.)
It was inevitable.
Dust knew that.
But that didn't mean it hurt less when he thought about it.
Would they be sad?
Would Killer cry? Would Cross throw himself into training and combat? Would Horror get angry and snap at everything and everyone? Would Nightmare care?
Or would they shrug and continue living their life like nothing had happened?
(Dust knew that they would care but this whole situation was easier if he just told himself that his death wouldn't hurt them.)
The night air on the roof was cold. It ripped at his scarf and would have made him shiver if he had been strong enough for that.
At least it was breathable. But it hurt, breathing. (Lucky for him that he won't have to keep doing that for much longer.) His body barely got enough oxygen to move and his way up the stairs knocked him out more than he would've thought.
With heavy steps he dragged himself towards the edge of the roof. He stumbled over his feet a bit but finally made it.
For a moment he debated jumping down and ending his suffering quicker. But that would make too much noise.
Killer and Cross were on a late-night mission and Dust could not risk them stumbling over his dead body and splintered bones lying on the ground in front of the castle once they got back.
He inhaled sharply and sank to his knees, eventually lying on the ground. There was a stinging pain in his chest. It wasn't new to him but it had gotten more and more intense over the course of the last few days.
Dust leaned his head back against the cold stone he was now laying on. His hood shifted halfway off his face but why would he care.
With the last bits of his magic, he summoned his soul and let it hover in front of his eyes. It was broken, splinters missing in places, a weird black liquid leaking out of those holes. Dust knew that that was caused by his high LV. Monsters were, after all, not meant to actually gain LV in a normal timeline. But Dust wasn't normal in that regard. He couldn’t even really remember when his soul had been complete and healthy the last time.
It was too late now anyway.
Something dry and wet at the same time creeped into his mouth. Dust coughed but that only enhanced that feeling.
(A trail of blood ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth. Specks of dust accompanied it.)
Dust's eyes grew heavy, his breathing slowed. A singular tear rolled down his cheek.
I'm so sorry.
The stars were pretty tonight.
What a shame.
"Kills, that was so unnecessary!" Cross huffed and Killer giggled.
"Was it really?" he asked and let the bag he stole dangle in front of Cross' face. "After all, these are purely for Dusty."
Cross started at him, eyes narrowed. He could practically smell Killer's bullshit. "Sure, all for Dust."
"Yep, you got it, Crisscross," Killer agreed and was practically skipping back towards the entrance of the castle. Cross caught up to him quickly enough and ripped the bag out of his hand.
"HEY-"
"If it's all for Dust anyway, you wouldn't mind me carrying it, right?" Cross blinked at him and Killer groaned.
"Yes, you're right, asshole," Killer muttered and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
Cross just kept grinning and reached out to open the front door. Killer looked skywards. There were no clouds this night and the stars sparkled so prettily. Even though he lived with Nightmare for such a long time now, he never forgot to appreciate the stars. He was one of the lucky few who could see them every night.
A small breeze ruffled through the worn-down fluff on his jacket's hood. He wanted to tell Cross to hurry up and unlock the door already or he would freeze but something high above them caught his eye. Something that floated in the breeze.
Cross opened the door and turned to Killer but only found the guy fixating something in the sky.
"Kills?" Cross asked and joined his side, trying to find what he was looking at. Then he noticed the flying thing as well. It moved like a piece of fabric through the wind.
Cross and Killer exchanged a look and started running after it at the same time. (The door was being left open, completely forgotten by both of them.)
Cross would've been faster than Killer, had it not been for the bag of sweets for Dust. Killer quickly scaled up a tree and was able to get a hold of the fabric.
He then immediately fell from the tree. Cross quickly threw the bag on the ground and caught Killer. He had let go of the fabric and it now hung on a branch, swaying in the wind. It reminded Cross of the movement that Dust's scarf always had.
Killer was shaking in his arms and squeezed Cross' arm hard with his hand.
"Kills-"
"That's Dust's scarf."
Cross froze and stared at the fabric again. The moon and stars barely shone through the trees but their sparse light was enough for Cross to make out the ripped and fading edges and the old, orange color.
Killer was right.
"Why did Dust's scarf float in the wind," Killer asked quietly.
Cross sat him down on his own feet again. "How did it even get up there in the first place?" Cross asked.
For a second there was silence. Then Killer grabbed Cross' hand and shortcutted away, pulling Cross with him. They ended up on a part of the castle's roof, rather high up.
Cross squeezed Killer's hand and pulled him partially behind himself. Killer was afraid of heights, even though he never admitted it.
Both Cross' and Killer's eyes landed on him at the same time. Or what was still left of him.
Cross froze in place, staring at the body of Dust laying in a puddle of his own blood and dust.
Killer on the other hand ran towards Dust and fell to his knees next to him.
"Dusty! Dusty, come on, this isn't funny. Come, wake up, Dusty." Killer was shaking Dust's dead body, his hands and sleeves and pants getting stained with dust and blood.
"Please." He was crying now.
Cross suddenly got the power over his body back and ran towards Killer. He grabbed him underneath his arms and pulled him away from Dust's body. Killer strained and wiggled and they ended up sitting two feet away on the floor.
"Cross, why won't he wake up?" Killer asked, real tears mixing with his black Determination ones.
Cross was shaking and wrapped his arms tightly around Killer. He couldn't answer, no sound escaping his throat.
"Cross, he has to wake up," Killer basically begged and tried once again to reach Dust.
Cross dug his fingers hard into Killer's clothes and the bone underneath. It must hurt but Killer didn't even flinch.
He stopped trying to fight against Cross' grip and let himself be held tightly. He covered Cross’ arms around his torso with his own and shook with sobs.
"This is not fair," Killer shouted. "He was doing better; this is not right!"
Tears fell from Cross’ eyes now as well and tainted the fluff on Killer's hood purple. He was right, it wasn't fair. Dust didn't deserve to die alone in the cold night air. He hadn't deserved to die at all.
"Cross, what do we do now?" Killer asked, voice weak and breaking. Cross had no idea.
"Dusty…" Killer cried his name over and over again, quieter each time.
They sat like this, crying and shaking, staring at their dead friend's body dusting and bleeding out more and more, for a long time. So long in fact that the door to the roof opening was the first disturbance in that horrible scenery.
Neither Cross nor Killer acknowledged that Horror was with them on the roof now. Neither answered his question of why they were on said roof.
When Horror saw Dust, he stopped.
Cross and Killer blinked up at him. Horror's expression was dark, switching between helpless anger and sadness in seconds. Then he stormed out and back inside the castle. Horror never shortcutted, sometimes they weren’t even sure if he was able to. Cross and Killer exchanged a look but didn't say anything about Horror's reaction.
Another few minutes passed. The sky turned lighter and started to be painted orange and pink by the sun which was creeping over the horizon. How could nature dare and be so beautiful when they felt like a part their hearts got forcefully ripped away from them.
Horror crashed the door and pushed Nightmare and Error onto the roof with so much force that the glitch stumbled and Nightmare had to catch him.
"Horror, what-"
"Oh god," Error breathed and ripped himself lose from Nightmare's hold. He ran towards Dust and came to a halt on his knees next to the body.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he shouted and wrapped some of his blue strings around Dust. "Come one, please," he muttered and pulled. Enclosed in two strings came Dust's soul into view. Or what was left of it. Which was barely anything.
Killer shook with new, louder sobs and turned to press his head into Cross' jacket. Cross turned his head away, staring up into the sky and blinking rapidly but the tears were flowing freely. Horror's jaw ticked and he went and punched the wall so hard he broke off some of the castle's stone. Error could only stare at the bit of soul that was slowly deteriorating and turning into dust. The LV still leaked out of it as if the soul was filled with it and it painted his strings black.
And Nightmare? Well, Nightmare, even though feeding on negative emotions, was overwhelmed by all the grief around him. Nightmare rarely felt any big emotions. It had gotten better during his time with his subordinates, with his family. He still enjoyed negative feelings, still needed them to not just randomly turn into stone. But not like this. Never like this.
He felt Horror's anger, Cross' guilt, Killer's sadness, Error's fear. But the grief that took over every inch of his mind and body was his own.
This was not supposed to happen. Dust had been getting better again. Nightmare and Error had worked so hard on healing him, on saving him, and all their efforts were now thrown into the sand? This wasn't right! This wasn't fair!
Something weirdly unfamiliar put pressure on his eye. Nightmare raised his hand and it came back tainted cyan.
Tears. He was crying.
Of course he was crying, he just lost a part of his family! And it was too late for him to do anything about it now. He had failed. Failed to save Dust, failed to keep his end of their deal and protect Dust from himself. That has been Dust's joining condition. He had been so afraid and sick and alone when Nightmare found him.
Nightmare failed. Dust must be so disappointed. His suffering must have been so great and Nightmare didn't even notice it.
The God of Negativity joined Error and sat down next to Dust. Dust had never liked Nightmare touching him. So, as carefully as he could, he pulled Dust’s hood completely away from his face.
It was weird to see Dust like that. He looked exactly like Classic when his eyes were dark like they were now. (And they would never shine in the colors they had been before again.) It felt easier to distance himself if Nightmare tried to convince himself he was looking at Classic rather than Dust.
But Nightmare could still feel a part of his own magic resonating from Dust. Magic Dust had willingly taken and allowed to be part of himself. (A clear choice he had not really given any of the other three.)
It hurt. Why did it hurt so much?
Error picked up on Nightmare's crying and put a hand on his arm. That action barely soothed Nightmare but at least it pulled him back into reality and away from the spiral of pain. He cursed his magic and forced it to build and internal barrier between him and the unbearable amount of grief coming from the others.
Nightmare exhaled wetly, uncaring for his tears. He heaved himself off of the ground again and spread his tentacles out. They curled around the remains of Dust's body and encased the dead man.
Then he nudged Error. "Free his soul, please."
Error startled but did as asked, removing his strings and the soul floated back to its owner.
It hurt Nightmare to leave the others alone on the roof but he trusted them enough to care for each other while he was gone. Then he teleported away to a different part of the castle.
(Later, much much later, Cross has enough mind to go back and gather Dust's scarf which Killer and he had abandoned in the tree. He handed it to Nightmare wordlessly, unsure what to do with it now that it was back in his hands.)
It was dark around him. So dark actually that all the light came from Killer’s soul that glowed a soft red.
He had no other choice but to walk in this void. And walking he did.
His thoughts were unusually quiet but something in his chest was wrong, something that would have his soul glitching and losing its target-like shape should he think too much about it.
The noise of something wet underneath his shoe made him stop and look down. A sheen layer of water covered the ground he was standing on now. The light of his exposed soul seemed to glow even brighter in the water and distort his features.
Killer squinted and his reflection squinted back. Then it shifted and grinned and Killer took a step back, away from the water. Why was his reflection moving on its own?
In the end, the curiosity won over the fear and he went back to the water. This time, however, it was his own face that looked back at him. He crouched down to be closer to the water and the red light of his soul once again shifted in the water.
Dust was staring back at him now. He didn’t wear his hood but his face was still darker than it should have been without shade.
Killer swayed on his feet and shifted to now sit on his knees, hands pressed into the water on both sides of Dust’s face. (The water didn’t ripple when he touched it. In the end, it was Killer’s dream and he desired nothing more than to get Dust back.)
Dust tilted his head. “Target?” he asked.
Killer exhaled shakily and tears gathered in his eyes. “Dusty?” he whispered.
Dust smiled. “Hey.” He sounded a bit sad. “Listen-“
Killer was emotionally overwhelmed and his heart settled on anger. It was easier to feel than sadness.
“How could you do this?” he shouted but Dust only blinked at him. “How could you just leave us like this!?” Killer choked but didn’t dare to look away from Dust’s face.
“Target-“ Dust tried again but Killer shook his head. Determination splattered into the water underneath him.
“No, you listen! Why did you not tell us?!” Killer was sobbing now, so hard that his whole body shook with the force of his cries. But he was unblinking. “You can’t just leave us like this! What are we supposed to do now?! We need you!” His voice broke on the last part.
Dust seemed guilty. “Target,” he said gently and extended a hand towards Killer.
This is a trap.
Killer didn’t care, not when Dust was so close to him and seemed so real. He grabbed Dust’s hand and an icy cold settled deep in his bones. Dust pulled and Killer phased through the water he had been staring at.
Killer clutched Dust’s hand and saw him now hovering in front of him. Killer made a pathetic noise and clung to Dust. Dust hugged him back. It felt wrong but for just a moment, just a minute, Killer didn’t care about it.
Eventually, Dust pushed him away from himself and stared up into his eyes. Killer was taller than Dust, even though it wasn’t a lot. It was very funny to watch Dust be annoyed so easily when being teased about his height.
Killer blinked quickly and looked in Dust’s mismatched eyes. “Target, it doesn’t have to be like this, you know?”
Dust held his hands tightly. The longer they touched, the colder Killer felt. Even his Determination had stopped running down his face, seemingly frozen in place.
“Join me, Target, and all your suffering can end.” It was a promise and it sounded so sweet in Killer’s ears.
But…
Dust never made promises. He was like Killer in that regard. The fact that he promised something to Killer now, ticked him off and it was like a punch in the gut. A reminder that this wasn’t real and Dust was gone.
“I can’t,” Killer croaked.
Dust lowered his eyes. He understood. When he raised them again to look at Killer, he smiled. (Killer would never see Dust smile again.) “I know.”
A blinding light engulfed them and then the pressure from Dust’s hands around his own was gone. Breathing quickly, Killer shot up in bed. Something warm was at his side and Cross pulled him back down again. He gathered Killer’s crying and shaking form in his arms and held him until he cried himself back to sleep.
It had been Horror who went to the Stars to inform them. Nobody encouraged him to do so, nobody told him to. But for some reason, Horror thought they deserved to know.
It had been easy to come into contact with them. Horror had asked Nightmare to send him back to his own AU to grieve. It was only half a lie of his intentions. The castle was too quiet. It was empty, lonely. Killer and Cross were holed up in their rooms, Horror having to forcefully summon food behind their locked doors to get them to eat and not starve themselves which exhausted him magically and tired his body out. (Not like Horror was eating anything but the others were too lost in their own minds to care that much about him.)
He had also forced Nightmare to sleep because even though he might be a God, his body still succumbed to a few natural demands such as occasional food and sleep.
But all this emptiness coming from Killer, Cross, and Nightmare had grown to be too much for Horror and, with food in a giant bag over his shoulder, he had stepped back into his AU.
Papyrus was a nice distraction form his grief. Of course, his brother noticed that something was up with him but Horror’s expression had been enough to keep him from asking about it.
Horror had sneaked away this night. He hoped that it was as easy to summon Dream as it was Nightmare. And he hoped that the magic from the God of Negativity he was marked by in his very core would not hinder the effect of his positive emotions too much.
Horror closed his eyes. Positive feelings. Good emotions. Positivity.
He groaned, how was he supposed to feel anything good when the grief leaked from each and every bone of his body? How was he supposed to feel good when almost all his waking thoughts were filled with the family member, but most importantly, friend, he lost?
Faintly, carried by the wind, he heard joyful laughter ringing through Snowdin.
Horror missed laughing with the others. It had always been so easy with them. Always so easy to forget his troubles and live again.
It had taken Killer and Horror so long to have Dust smile at them. Dust had gone through so much, so much Horror still didn't know because he didn't tell them. But he and Killer had been determined to one day pull a smile out of Dust.
And, stupidly enough, it was a pun that broke the quiet skeleton. Dust had denied his smile for a hole week after that while Horror and Killer insisted they had seen it.
The second smile they ever saw was after Horror had been hurt on a mission. After he had woken up from being unconscious in his room with Dust watching over him, he had smiled. Killer was so jealous back then and Dust had always rolled his eyes.
Dust's first real laugh was seemingly random back then. But Horror now knew that the ghost of Papyrus that Dust saw on his worse days had been talking shit to him all day. Killer coincidentally said something that defeated the ghost's argument completely without Killer being aware of it. Dust had laughed then and startled all the others but it had been a real, amused laugh and both Killer and Horror were joyful for days. (Nightmare resented to be near them during that time, claiming they were killing him with their positivity but in reality, he grinned with them.)
It still took time but they had gotten to the point where Dust would smile and laugh freely with them. Both Killer and Horror (and probably also Nightmare and Cross) treasured every single smile, every grin, every laugh from Dust equally.
Horror's soul felt warm and nostalgic from these memories. How me missed Dust's laughter already.
Something shifted in the snow behind him and startled Horror so badly he almost swung his axe that was suddenly over his shoulder. Dream was standing in front of him, a glowing, blinding portal open behind him.
The God of Positivity seemed confused and slightly uneasy when facing Horror and his axe now.
"Horror? What-…I didn't notice those were your emotions," he apologized and turned back to leave again.
"Wait," Horror called and Dream stopped and faced him again.
"Is everything…" Dream paused, frowning. "Your positivity is gone," he stated as if Horror was not aware of it.
"I have to talk with you and the rest of the Stars. Something…happened and I feel like you guys deserve to know."
Still squinting at him, Dream nodded and waved towards the portal behind him.
Horror took a step forward when a voice called him. "Brother! You're leaving again already?" Papyrus rounded a corner and came into few.
Horror felt Dream tense behind him but paid him no mind. Most people felt uneasy when seeing his brother and Horror hated that. But right now, he was not in the mood to fight, not able to emotionally. "I'll be back in a bit," he promised Papyrus and, with a wave, he stepped through the blinding light of the portal. (He very much preferred Nightmare's dark ones.)
On the other side he found himself in some sort of giant living room. Blue sat on a couch, watching Ink splatter paint all over the floor and walls.
A quiet sigh came from Dream who was now standing behind Horror. "He's been trying to contact Error but can't make it to the Antivoid. Even Blue can't get him to answer his calls."
Horror knew exactly why that was. "Error is not feeling well," he admitted, a half-truth.
The sound of his deep voice made Blue and Ink turn their heads but none were afraid to see him, their anxiety settled too deep in their bones.
"He's not alright?" Ink asked and let his giant paintbrush drop to his side.
Horror nodded. "W-we also can't get through to him," he said, another half-truth. Only Horror had actually tried to get through to the glitch. (His need to care for the others was the only thing that kept his anger in check. Anger he would love to let out but wouldn't. For his family. For…Dust.)
"Huh, alright," Ink muttered and stared at the ground, lost in thought.
"Horror, why are you here?" Blue asked, something off in his tone as if he knew exactly why Horror was there.
"Yeah, what is it you think we deserve to know?" Dream asked, smiling at him.
But Horror kept his eye fixed on Blue. The soldier was visibly putting all the pieces in place. Then something clicked behind his eyes and he gasped.
"No," he whispered desperately. He jumped up from the couch, shortcutting to stand in front of Horror. He grabbed Horror's big arms and squeezed (completely oblivious to the scared look both Dream and Ink were shooting him.) "No, no, Horror!"
Horror could only advert his eyes and nod weakly. Blue flinched away from him and with another gasp he covered his mouth and stared at Horror.
Dream swayed on his feet. "What is this feeling of grief for?" he asked quietly.
"Dust is gone." It was all Horror could force past the giant lump in his throat.
"What?" Dream asked while Blue sank to the ground and pulled his knees close to his chest.
Horror couldn't repeat the words again so he exchanged them for something else. "Error's grieving and has blocked off the Antivoid," he explained instead.
Ink was frozen in place and stared at a wall. Dream was shaking violently but Horror feared he was not welcomed to touch them and could only stand around stupidly without any way to soothe them. Sometimes he cursed himself and his inability to just be good enough and help.
"They said he would survive," Blue muttered and raised his head. Horror was met with his teary eyes and it took all his power to not cry and break down again. This was not the place for it anyway.
"T-they…Nightmare and Error…they said he was doing better," Blue breathed.
Horror winced. "I think that…Dust knew. And could've told them but chose not to," he admitted his suspicions out loud.
"Why would he not say anything if he could feel something being wrong?" Dream asked.
Because that had always been Dust. Always pushing his pain down and out of sight, always pretending it all never hurt, always feeling undeserving of any form of help.
Because maybe he didn't love them as much as he said he did. Maybe he wanted to leave.
Horror shook his head, shoving that awful thought out of his mind and shrugged at Dream's question.
"C-can I leave again, please?" he asked into the room. He had done what he came to do and wanted nothing more than to escape those fresh tears, this fresh grief. Dream nodded and opened a portal back to HorrorTale. Horror stepped through without a goodbye and left, starting to walk back to Papyrus.
There was nothing he could do for the Stars now and he also didn't want to do anything.
Papyrus stopped his chatter with some other monsters when he noticed Horror approach.
"Sans?" he asked, worry lacing his words. Horror was so lost in thought, he didn't even cringe when being called Sans.
He only waked towards his brother and hugged him. As soon as Papyrus returned the hug, still a bit confused, the walls Horror had built up around his heart and soul shattered and he sobbed.
Error paced thorough the empty Antivoid. He had not sat still ever since he left Nightmare's realm. He had just not stopped walking. The Antivoid was endless and everything looked the same (well except the space he made a bit more comfortable for himself).
At least, everything he had seen so far was the same. The small black dot on the floor in the distance was unusual. Desperate to get his mind off of things, Error started in the direction of the thing.
He shouldn't have done that.
It was one of his dolls that was now laying at his feet. Tears started to collect in his eyes again and that sparked anger inside Error's soul. He was angry that he was sad. He was angry at Nightmare. He was angry at himself.
This was all so stupid!
Error picked up the doll and stared at it. He didn't know what to do. He could rip it to shreds, could burn it, could throw it away and leave it forgotten in the wasteland of the Antivoid.
But…
He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the small doll of Dust.
Error groaned through his tears and teleported back to where his home was, the doll in his hand. He sank to the ground and pulled his knees towards his chest.
Through blurry vision he stared at the doll as if it had personally offended him.
Why did he feel like this? He was not supposed to grieve some stupid anomaly that brought so much shame to the original story. He should be happy! He should be…happy…
But still, Error shook with his cries and cradled the doll to his chest. This was all so deeply wrong.
Ink hovered around in the Doodlesphere. Around him were probably thirty empty vials. His hand shook when he popped another one open and drowned the paint.
His stomach felt like it was in knots but Ink desperately reached for another vial already. He just wanted the numbness to go away. He just wanted to feel again. But no matter how much paint he drunk there was nothing in the space where his soul had been beside desperation. (That should have been enough to tell him that his vials were working perfectly fine but Ink didn't notice.)
Then all his vials were empty. But Ink was still numb. He needed more, needed his emotions back.
Quickly he looked around and hopped from paper to paper, desperately hoping to get something out of the AUs and the creativity that existed around him.
On his hunt, he saw it. The timeline floated in front of him innocently. The paper had lost its yellowish shine that symbolized that the timeline was still inhabited. It was a pristine white now, edges sharp and clean.
Ink tilted his head. He was confused. Why had Error not destroyed it yet? It was abandoned now, nobody left in that timeline. It was basically a waste of space. So why?
Carefully, Ink touched the paper. It didn't crumble; it didn't turn into dust underneath his fingers like he would've expected.
Ink giggled now but it wasn’t a happy laugh. This was such a terrible thing for the Creator to do! Leaving DustTale intact as if there was anything more to it still. As if there was anything left that made it worth keeping and saving DustTale!
The cruelty of it all made Ink want to destroy DustTale on his own but he couldn't. His powers were made to protect the AUs. He was made to protect the AUs.
And if the Creator kept Error from doing his job and destroying the empty timeline, Ink could do nothing about it.
Maybe it was a reminder, a taunt, nothing more. A tear slipped from Ink's eye and ran over his cheek. He had to leave and get back to Blue and Dream again and he needed to fill up his vials.
Ink scoffed and did what he was supposed to. The Doodlesphere was quiet after he left.
Killer startled when someone knocked on his door. But lucky for him, that noise made him stumble out of his mind spiral. He didn't want to get up out of bed. It didn't feel right to move when Dust could never move again. (Purely existing felt wrong when he knew that Dust did not exist next to them anymore.)
Another knock. Killer wanted to groan but his vocal cords did not work after days (or has it been weeks?) of not being used. He turned around and curled up into a ball, his back facing the door.
But whoever was knocking was insistent and Killer grew annoyed. He threw the blanket off of his legs and swung his feet over the bed. He felt unsteady when stomping over to his door.
He swung it open, expecting Cross or maybe Nightmare but it was Horror who stared back at him, red eye widened at Killer's fast movement. (Horror was more surprised by the fact that Killer had actually opened his door. He looked bad and Horror hoped that it wouldn't stay like that forever.)
Killer wanted to ask what Horror was doing at his door but not sound came out of his open mouth. Frustrated, he tried to think of a solution when suddenly Horror's hands made quick and practiced motions in front of his eyes.
"Boss told me to come get you and Cross," he signed. Killer’s eyes widened. They all had only ever started to use and learn sign language for when Dust had one of his unresponsive episodes. That way he could still communicate with them and their voices wouldn't overwhelm him since they weren't speaking.
"What did he want?" Killer asked, hands easily finding their rhythm.
Horror shrugged and went to the door on his left. He knocked. Once, twice, three times. Yet Cross didn't respond.
Killer and Horror exchanged a look. Killer knocked once as well, the sound lighter than Horror's. But nothing moved behind Cross' door.
"What do we do now?" Horror signed but Killer just shrugged and summoned his knife, working on picking the lock.
He was done so quickly it would have been concerning. (But it wasn't like Horror cared, he was just glad that the door was open.) Cross' room was dark, as dark as Killer's had been.
Killer was already on his way in but Horror held him back. He cleared his throat softly, basically announcing that they were there.
"Cross? Boss wants to see us" Horror said into the dark. (Killer briefly wondered why Horror had signed back to him when his voice was working perfectly fine but he came to no conclusion so he just discarded his confusion.)
There was no answer and Killer really didn't have the patience to wait any longer. He went to Cross' bed, found where the guy's head was, and crouched down to be in his line of view. Cross barely lifted his eyes but still managed to look at Killer.
Cross looked terrible. His face was thin and puffy from tears that had stained his face light purple in places. Killer removed part of the blanket Cross was tucked underneath and exposed his arms. Arms which were covered in scratches and cuts. Killer faltered and stared at the purple that clung to Cross' arms.
"Just from training," Cross clarified quietly.
Killer signed: "I sure hope so."
Cross squinted his eyes at the fast movement of Killer's hand. The former royal guard was the least skilled in sign language due to the fact that he only learned when joining their team. Killer and Horror had already established a good base communication with Dust back then and Cross just got thrown into it. But Cross had leaned fast, determined to not fall too much behind and eventually he was able to hold a full conversation with Dust during his quiet episodes.
Killer stood from his crouched position and extended a hand that Cross took after a moment. Cross was more stable on his legs than Killer had been and they walked back to the door.
Horror stopped them from leaving though. He stared at them and Killer suddenly felt guilty even though he wasn't completely sure why yet.
"I don't like that you two didn't eat while I was gone," Horror said and signed at the same time.
Killer and Cross stared at the ground. Horror sighed and pulled them into a hug. While Cross started to shake, Killer froze. This felt too real and it hurt deep in his soul.
But apparently Horror also couldn't take a lot of physical contact without breaking himself. He let them go and turned away. Cross had tears in his eyes again and Killer's Determination dripped down his face and onto the floor of Cross' room.
"Boss is waiting," Horror muttered and started walking, trusting that Cross and Killer would follow.
They walked down the hall, Horror walking quickly in front of them. Cross stumbled when they passed Dust's abandoned room and Killer caught him, quickly pulling him further along to get away from the reminder of what they had lost.
They now stood in front of Nightmare’s office. Killer was not a fan of that place and his soul glitched as if remembering what's often done with it in there. But Horror didn't even knock and swung the door open, stepping in. Killer and Cross had no other choice than to follow.
It was always dimly lit in Nightmare's office but right now it was actually dark. Killer couldn't see into the corners of the room (which was good because had he seen Dust's scarf hanging over a chair in one of them, he would've broken down).
Nightmare stood in front of his desk. Something sparkled from a thin silver chain around his neck. Killer squinted and saw it was a red-violet colored stone.
It clicked in Killer's mind and he inhaled sharply but he could not talk. Nightmare fixed him with his cyan eye.
Killer's hands shook when he raised them and even when not using his voice he stumbled over his words. "Don't tell me that that's Dust."
Horror and Cross who had been watching Killer sign snapped their heads up to stare at Nightmare.
"Not all of him," Nightmare admitted quietly and stepped aside, revealing three neatly wrapped packages on top of his desk. "These are for you," he said. For some reason he sounded unsure, afraid even.
Killer thought he might just hate him. If he had his voice, he would be shouting at Nightmare now. But the small sob that came from Cross immediately snuffed out all the anger he held for Nightmare.
Cross stepped forward and Nightmare handed him a box. Cross pulled out a ring. It was silver and tiny little gems were embedded all around the thick band. They shone purple in the poor light that was in Nightmare's office. Cross clutched the jewelry tightly in his hand and could only nod a thanks to Nightmare.
Horror was the next one to approach. His piece was a silver brooch in form of a marigold if Killer had to guess. Those had been Dust's favorite flowers. The stone sat in the flower's center and glittered. Horror held it in a way that made sure he didn't break it. Nightmare pinned the brooch to a thick part of his jacket over his chest. Horror muttered a thanks and took a step back, staring at Dust's favorite flower on his chest.
Nightmare turned to Killer and handed him the last box. It took Killer so much willpower to actually open it and take the piece of jewelry out. It was a sturdy bracelet in the same silver as the other pieces. It had a thick clasp and was sized to fit around Killer's wrist without much room to wiggle, perfect to not get caught on anything while in close combat. There were five stones on his bracelet.
Nightmare carefully took it from his hands only to put it on his wrist. Killer refused to cry. Refused to cry again. (He knew he would cry anyway but he tried to not lose what little control he had over his emotions.)
"Thanks," Killer signed and looked away from the dead remains he was now prettily wearing on his arm.
"This is so that we don't forget Dust," Nightmare said.
Killer would have scoffed and luckily Cross did exactly that. "As if we would ever forget him," he said wetly, his voice breaking.
Nightmare nodded. If Killer looked closely enough, he could've sworn he saw a deep sadness flickering over the Boss' face.
"I'm going to make food," Horror announced suddenly. Killer tilted his head at him and Horror let his eye flash. He noticed the sadness on Nightmare as well and deemed it Killer's job to do something about it. Killer nodded at Horror who returned his nod and gently took Cross' hand, pulling the other with him.
The door closed with a soft click and Killer looked at Nightmare. A sigh escaped the God's mouth and he suddenly seemed so tired.
Killer nudged him. "What's bothering you?" he asked, his hands less shaky than before but still not as calm as he wished them to be.
"Emotions," Nightmare said but didn't elaborate. He leaned on his table.
Killer moved to be next to him and now sat on his table, one leg over the other. "Come, we can figure them out," he signed and tried to smile but it was hard and he dropped the smile again.
Nightmare sighed, his tentacles dropping to the floor behind him. He looked less scary and more vulnerable like that. "You sure you're in the right mindset for this?" Nightmare asked and eyed him. "Your Determination is leaking very badly," he pointed out and wiped a bit of it away with a cotton piece of cloth.
Killer rolled his eyes (even though his eye lights were not visible). "You can literally check if I'm stable," Killer signed.
Nightmare hesitated. Usually, he would wait for Killer's consent to touch his soul. In general, he would only do it when he noticed it glitching. That had not always been the case and Killer knew that Nightmare still desperately kept him away from his sanest stage: Stage 1. But Nightmare also didn't push him into Stage 3 as often anymore when he noticed that he could fight just as well on Stage 2 and would still be loyal to him. (There was a stage Killer wasn't sure Nightmare even knew existed. Killer can't remember his time on Stage 4 that well but he could always remember the bloodlust and hunger for death he felt back then.)
The tentacle was cold and it felt weird, it always did. But Nightmare was only checking and not manipulating this time.
When he removed it from Killer's soul again, Killer tilted his head. "Want to tell me now?"
Nightmare sighed again. "Guilt."
Killer startled. He didn't know what he expected but that had not been it. He nudged Nightmare, urging him to continue talking.
It seemed to cost the God of Negativity a lot of energy but he talked again. "I feel like I failed Dust and that it's my fault I couldn’t save him." Nightmare stared at his palms. "My magic was not strong enough to save him and now he's gone and it's all my faul-"
Killer snapped his fingers and made Nightmare look at him again. He hated not being able to use his voice but he made do.
"Stop," he demanded. "It's not your fault."
"But-"
Killer snapped his fingers again, cutting Nightmare off. "Stop," he repeated. "If it's your fault then it is Error's fault just as much," he signed and saw Nightmare physically recoil which was answer enough.
"Stop blaming yourself for not being able to do something you never knew how to do," Killer tried to reassure. It was the truth; Nightmare wasn't meant to heal and yet he learned. But that didn't mean that he could fix something that was as broken as Dust's soul was.
"Nobody thinks you failed, Night," Killer signed and his eyes softened as Nightmare stared at him. "And, as much as it hurts, Dust knew that he would die and neither you nor Error could save him." Killer shook and Nightmare reached for him. Killer clenched his teeth and suppressed the silent sob that was creeping up his throat and continued. "That's why he wasn't in his room when we found him. He didn't want to be found dusting away in his room. It would’ve seemed like he was waiting for you and Error to fix him.
"But Dust knew. And that's why he left." And that was what hurt the most. Dust had been utterly alone when he died and Killer hated that more than anything. Dust hadn't deserved to be alone. Not for this. And Killer would curse him forever that he chose the loneliness because he wanted to protect them. (Killer would have probably done the same. After all, Dust and Killer had been more alike than both ever dared to admit.)
A tear fell from Killer's eye, a real tear, and it instantly mixed with the Determination leaking from his eyes.
"There was nothing more you could have done for him, Night." Killer’s hands shook and he was surprised Nightmare could even make out the words still.
The God sighed again and didn't answer. But his stance was different, less defeated and Killer grinned as much as he could through his own sadness. He did the job Horror gave him.
Speaking of Horror, a delicious smell floated through the castle and made Killer feel just how hungry he was. He hopped down from Nightmare’s table and extended a hand towards the Boss, a silent invitation to join him and Horror and Cross while eating.
Nightmare didn't even hesitate and took Killer's hand, letting himself being led to the kitchen.
(This night, with fresh and good food making him feel better than he had in weeks, Killer would lie in bed and not sleep. He would stare at the bracelet he wore. He would cry silently. He would damn Dust for leaving them alone.
But most importantly he would be reminded of the rest of his family. All of which were hurting. All of them need so much time to even begin to heal from Dust's death, and even more to get remotely close to finding any form of acceptance for it.
But maybe, just maybe, it would be alright. Maybe, one day, they could feel alive again. Maybe they could one day look at the beautiful jewelry and not be painfully reminded that Dust was gone forever. Maybe, one day, they would stop crying at every memory with Dust and could be happy about the time they did have with him.
Maybe it could be alright. One day.)