The sound of the puddles splashing beneath her expensive party shoes would normally send a feeling of dread through Cross. The thought of what her father would say or do would normally be enough to keep her away from the water.
But not today. Not now with her new... friend? That's what they were now, right?
..She supposed it didn't matter. The sound and feeling of the rain slowly dripping down from the sky made her feel light. The downpour was just enough to make her feel a little less warm, numbing her stinging cheek, without freezing her instead. Or soaking her and the dress Father had made her wear for his award ceremony thing.
...She had been paying attention when he had been talking before, but it didn't seem as important now. So she didn't bother trying to recall what it was.
Little feet pattering through the concrete pavement of the streets, lights from the lampposts were the only source that kept them aware of their surrounding.
The rain drowned out the noises of their ragged breathing from how long of a run it had been, the adrenaline rush coursing through their bones were still running rampant
White eyelights with a tint of red lacing the rims, glanced back at Cross. Glowing underneath the darkness of the night, a serene sight as the skeleton grasping at her hand offered a smile so bright it's a direct competition to the sun
The sight was one that made Cross's soul warm. It was almost enough to make her forget about what had led up to them running off in the first place.
It had been a small comment. One that she'd meant to be inaudible as she grumbled under her breath about the lovely, but… wrong dress she'd been forced to wear. …Only it hadn't been inaudible. And well.. her father never did like complaints.
Soon enough, the rain grew muffled as it hits the leaves above them. The trees of the woods standing strong as a form of shelter whilst they traversed further and further from the party.
Away from who Cross considered a father, which was likely the same case for the other. Though neither spoke a word as of yet, they didn't have to.
Communicating through papers and gestures from afar was what sparked their hidden friendship, one forbidden. A sin in the eyes of the grown ups, for they belonged to opposing sides when it came to ideal and business.
And yet, Cross was certain the two of them understood each other far better than anyone else could.
Although she hadn't asked why the other suddenly grabbed her hand and led her out of the building, she followed along anyway. Even though she had concerns about why no one was following them. ..It had felt too easy, but Cross trusted her more than anyone else.
The woods were dangerous, everyone always said to stay out of it. Remain as far away as possible, yet here they were.
And yet Cross had never felt safer, with her best friend by her side.
"Come on, open it!" Cross encouraged, nudging the box towards. "You'll love it, I promise! I made it myself!"
Staring at the box, Dust clearly seemed skeptical however, he trusted him more than anything in the world. So.. he reached out wordlessly, grasping the nearly-wrapped gift
"Tada!!" he exclaimed, laughing softly. "It's me. See? You won't be lonely anymore. There's even a spot under the cape where you can keep small things. Like how I use my locket!"
"..What a sap" Huffing and rolling his eyelights at the sight of the plush that was a near-perfect replica of Cross himself.
Dust ran a thumb over the cheek of it, "I could just hold you instead of this."
"...Well, obviously, but I can't always be around, you know," he replied. "Like- like you know... solo missions. So you can use this instead!"
"..Kay" Sighing and not pushing further, Dust leaned on Cross "Thanks, Crossy."
"Of course," he replied, hugging him tightly. "Anything for you. Just don't sulk for too long when I'm not there now that you have it."
He was teasing, of course.
"I want you to be happy!"
That was ages ago, of course. Whatever the case it is, Dust still clung to the memories like a life-line. One that he cherished even now, especially now that Cross was no longer with him.
Holding the doll, all that he could do was stare at it. The beads-like eyes returning a empty gaze.
It hurt to even see it, if he had to be brutally honest about the fact. But it's all that he had.
The little panel in the back was perfect for keeping small things though, as he'd said. ...Like the vial of his dust, that is.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye too, there was nothing that could've possibly changed the outcome nor for Dust to have stepped in.
One moment, Cross was in bed with him, cuddling. The next, he's called for a mission and left - only for a sickening pit of dread to form within the depth of Dust's non-existent guts as the time ticked by.
His soul, least half of what remains felt heavy. Something he didn't understand why, until Nightmare called for a emergency meeting. The atmosphere grim before he dropped a piece of news that Dust wished he never heard
Cross died on mission.
How? Why?
Nightmare only explained partially and all that Dust could hear was that there was an accident - that Cross was out of it, something that was unlike him - for a split second or so it's what the knight explained once Nightmare had went over to check up on him at the split second of sensing his distress.
All they knew was that Cross had been cursing out his creator in his final moments, seemingly delirious or confused before he'd abruptly collapsed.
And then, just like that, his body dusted and he was gone.
...No one had even been able to say goodbye.
In a way, Dust was glad that Nightmare had collected the ashes and given it to him. That was at least enough to calm him down, even if he was hysterical at the news - so much so that he had to be held down and forced to sleep through the god's magic
Did he ever come to terms with the fact that his lover is now gone? No, no he didn't. It felt like his split soul could never heal from the loss, even if he did willingly give half to Cross instead of demanding it back. Now he'd never have it. At all.
..Despite the fact that what he truly wanted isn't the soul, but for Cross' return.
It's unfair.
Fidgeting with the doll, and always ensuring that the container filled with the dust - pun not intended - were still there. It grounded Dust to reality in a horrible way. Even Papyrus fell silent.
It was nice, at least. To imagine how happy Cross would be to know that Dust appreciated his gift. He would have been smiling endlessly.
Hugging the doll close, Dust just leaned onto the pillows stacked on the bed. Arranged in such a way that it felt more like 'home'. That being in Cross' arms, even if nothing could ever replicate that sense of comfort and safety
..He missed him, really.
But what more can he do other than live on?
Maybe this is all just a bad dream, a nightmare. Ironically.
Maybe he'd wake up to see him curled up around him, more relaxed than his silly, overthinking ever let him be while awake.
Your style just makes me happy I think the colors are so vibrant and pleasing to look at
Ok so question for dust and cross
what's their favorite thing about one another
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