hi guys i wanna draw more so maybe ask me for something (ask me to draw kross i need an excuse to) and maybeeeee ill draw it idk it really depends i need to get better at posing and anatomy 🙁🙁🙁
(OOC) which one would be in a pink robe and the other in one of those cartoon sleeping gowns between ze and regect??? PLEASE ZABOOBOO I NEED THIS FOR A DRAWING PROMPT
(OOC) Ze is the pink robe and Regect is the gowns.
pt: kris dreemur discord layout. contains: banner, icons. art cred: melonii-i on tumblr (link). character(s): kris dreemur (deltarune). tagging: @/webmush. f2uwc and reblog. no reposts. inspo ok. end pt.
halloween kross in november who give a fuck. this isn’t my best ever and i worry it’s not fully fitting to the au but we ball
this au, rental suits, belongs to me and @psycho-chair!!
“Guess what’s this weekend.” Killer asked, his back turned as he leaned against the checkout counter and fidgeted with the tab of the drink can he held.
Cross had to think for a moment. “Halloween.”
“There’s gonna be a party.”
Of course. When wasn’t there a party.
“…I don’t know,” Cross said. “Halloween parties are like, college student stuff.”
Killer turned to look at him. “That’s a shitty excuse. C’mon, you only get this kinda thing, like, once a year.”
‘what thing?’ Cross considered asking. He was hesitant. Though, he felt himself get a little bolder. He wasn’t sure why. Halloween could be different. He felt like he’s had this conversation with Killer a million times.
“Fine.”
Killer beamed. “Friday night. Meet at yours?”
——————
Cross gave an awkward lopsided smile to his reflection in the mirror, showing the plastic fangs that sat over his teeth. He unnecessarily smoothed out the cheap black high-collared cloak draped over his shoulders with both hands. A simple white long-sleeved button up was partially visible underneath. Purpleish makeup had been applied messily to under his eye sockets to mimic some manner of eye bags. He inhaled, then exhaled. Hesitant to leave the safety of the bathroom, he lingered at his reflection, stewing in his own nerves. But, a handful of knocks at his apartment’s door forced him to pull away.
He padded over carpet, turned the lock, then twisted the knob. Suddenly he was met with a figure with dark, sunken, empty eyes and a grotesque face that almost looked like a mask. It jumped out toward him, flashing its hands as if it aimed to grab him. He darted back as a sound close to a yelp escaped his mouth. Abruptly the figure laughed and pulled off its face, which Cross now realized was for certain a mask, to reveal Killer’s familiar smile underneath.
“I got you so fucking good.” He beamed, proud of himself.
“You asshole!” Cross said, though a grin teased at his mouth. He punched Killer in the arm and Killer laughed again.
Cross absorbed Killer’s outfit of choice, now that he wasn’t so startled. He wore an unzipped black jacket a size too big that Cross immediately recognized as his (though he couldn’t remember when he’d gotten a hold of it), a white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. In his fingerless gloved hand he held a knife that was obviously real, and his clothes were flecked with a red that Cross almost took as real blood, too. Though, he realized it was too vibrant to not be fake. In his right hand he grasped the mask, a typical rubber halloween mask that covered the whole head with only holes for the eyes and a smaller hole for the mouth. It resembled the face of some creature, with exaggerated sharp teeth and wrinkly skin. Serial killer costume. Original.
Killer eyed Cross head to toe. “Vampire.”
Cross nodded.
“Looks good on you,” Killer smirked. “I like the purple. Though I could’ve done it better.”
Cross smiled just slightly and rolled his eyes.
“I appreciate you getting fake blood on my jacket.” Cross commented back, and Killer looked down at the garment as if he’d forgotten he had it on.
“Be glad it’s not real.” Killer beamed.
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go.” Cross said.
——————
Cross pulled his truck up to their destination, Killer in the passenger seat. The host’s residence was in the bottom floor of the apartment building this time, apparently, because costumed guests mingled on the grass in front of an open sliding side door. A dim orange light streamed through the door, partially coloring the lawn, and Cross could faintly hear music.
Then they were inside. Cross passed all manners of beasts and ghouls and monsters. Though, everyone’s costumes were cheap and not very high-effort. The kind you just buy at a store and put on, with cloth that feels like plastic and hollow plastic props. Demons, werewolves, witches, vampires, zombies. Scantily clad nurses. Serial killers, clowns, grim reapers, mummies. Whatever you could think of.
He gazed all around the space as he walked. The apartment was dimly lit, save for a few battery-powered candles and multicolored LEDs scattered around the place. Music fitting for the occasion wafted through the whole apartment, and in the living room Cross found an old box TV front and center, playing a decades-old slasher film. Grainy sounding screaming emanated through the apartment every so often, and a menagerie of people congregated by the couch to pause and watch. Mostly people seemed to just be gathered with friends to drink and talk. Some danced, some stood outside and smoked. Every corner of the apartment was lively with guests. Though, it wasn’t as suffocating as other parties Killer had taken him to. He kind of felt like he belonged here this time.
Cross followed Killer into the bright light of the kitchen. It’s overhead light was the only one on in the apartment, and the white glow from it bled out onto the carpet of the conjoined living room. On the counter was a bowl of punch, a disarray of different soda and beer cans, and an orange bowl of candy. There was also a few boxes of pizza.
Killer poured himself a red solo cup of punch and turned to Cross.
“How much you wanna bet this is spiked.” He said, his voice and face obscured by the mask now back over his head.
The punch was definitely spiked. Somehow, Killer eventually convinced Cross to have some, and the rest of the night became unclear in his mind as a consequence.
He ran around the party with Killer, laughing and dancing and joking. And drinking. Not at first, but slowly, he felt free to do whatever he wanted. What he really wanted. More than usual, anyway. With this costume on no one would truly know who he was, and with theirs on too no one would even care. He was hidden. He didn’t have to worry about what they would think. He had fun. Actual fun for probably the first time at one of Killer’s parties.
Killer drifted from group to group, though he was always brought back to Cross. And Cross clung to him. They talked, made each other laugh until they were crying. Danced like idiots. Killer had that stupid mask on the whole time, and once the alcohol started settling in Cross became desperate to his face.
At a point Cross found himself standing on the concrete strip outside the apartment’s sliding door, directly outside the kitchen. He held a paper plate housing one and a half pizza slices, and beside him, Killer had his own plate. It was quieter out here. There was only about three other people with them. And it was dark; Cross could only see the grass a couple feet ahead of them. The rest was blanketed in a silent darkness only disrupted by the few lights in apartment windows.
Cross saw Killer pull his mask up and let it sit propped on top of his head as he searched, one-handed, in a jacket pocket for his cigarettes. He opened the pack and fished out a cigarette with his teeth. He then found his lighter and held it out to Cross. He maneuvered to hold the cigarette between two fingers of the same hand.
“Help me out here a sec.” He said, guesting with the lighter.
Cross took the lighter with his free hand. He opened it and reached toward Killer, who had returned the cigarette to his teeth and leaned to meet him halfway. Cross flicked the lighter and Killer held his hand cupped around the flame to shield it. A warm glow encompassed Killer’s face. Cross felt so close to him. After a second smoke wafted from the cigarette, and Killer leaned back to take a drag. Cross gave him back the lighter.
“Thanks,” Killer said with a grin.
They stood there in silence a moment as Killer smoked. Cross finished a slice of his pizza. It had grown cold from its time on the counter.
“Hey, watch this,” Killer said.
Cross looked over at him. Killer pulled his mask back down, then meticulously brought the cigarette up to the mask’s mouth-hole. He put it through just slightly, then inhaled. When he exhaled smoke flowed through the mouth and eye holes. As he pulled the mask back up Cross saw he was grinning at him.
Cross laughed and shook his head. So stupid. But what was even stupider was that it worked. In that moment, he was so utterly endeared.
There was another stretch of silence.
Cross glanced over again to see Killer offering his cigarette to him. He hesitated a moment. But in a surge of impulsiveness he took it, and took a drag. He started coughing immediately, doubling over a little. The taste was suffocating and bitter in his mouth. Killer laughed, laughed hard. Cross laughed with him.
“I haven’t smoked before.” Cross said through a cough. At least, he couldn’t remember the last time he tried it.
“I can tell.” Killer smirked, taking the cigarette from him.
“That shit is gross, how can you stand it?” Cross laughed.
“You get used to it.” Killer shrugged, grinning.
Cross then found himself again, some time later, sitting on the couch in the living room, which was pressed up against a wall with a big window directly behind it. He sat longways with his back against the armrest. Killer was positioned perpendicular, his legs draped over his lap and head tilted back to rest on the window. He still had the mask on, and there was still a movie playing on the TV.
“You go to so many parties,” Cross said, glancing out the window. The moon was bright. “People only ever go to parties to hang out with their friends. But you never know anyone.”
“I know you,” Killer said. Cross could hear the smirk on his voice.
Cross reached and slowly pulled Killer’s mask up so he could see his mouth, then his eyes and the rest of his face. He let the mask rest propped on top of his head. They just gazed at each other for a moment. Cross wasn’t sure what he was doing. He thought about kissing him.
Cross abruptly put a palm to his forehead and threw his head back in dismay, as if he just now realized how drunk he was. “Fuck, I was supposed to drive us home,”
Killer just laughed. “I remember when you said you didn’t do parties.”
“I still don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Killer was unconvinced.
“Why do you go to so many parties?” Cross asked.
He didn’t answer and there was a stretch of silence.
“You’ve been gettin’ kinda bold tonight.” Killer teasted, looking toward Cross a little more.
“Shut up.”
Later Cross was standing by himself, in a hallway away from the kitchen and the living room. Killer had disappeared somewhere. He watched guests go by, their costumes flashing color in his vision. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his undershirt, searching for where Killer went.
Then, he appeared, grinning triumphantly as he saw Cross. “Look what I scored from another vampire.”
He held out his palm, on which rested two red pill-shaped capsules.
“Fake blood,” Killer said. He was close enough Cross could smell the ever-present smoke on his breath. “You put ‘em in your mouth and it looks like you’re bleeding.”
It felt almost so juvenile to Cross, with how much real blood he’s seen covering his carpet. With the states he’s seen Killer in. But at the same time, none of that seemed to matter to him now.
Killer lifted up his mask, and Cross’s eyes were drawn to his face. Killer selected one of the capsules and put it in his mouth between his back teeth. After a breath Cross took his own capsule and held it between his molars. He bit down slightly. He saw a trail of crimson begin running tantalizingly down a corner of Killer’s mouth.
It took a moment, but Cross felt liquid seep from the capsule into his own mouth. He let it creep from his teeth to his chin. It was syrupy and vaguely sweet, though it didn’t really taste like anything.
Killer grinned at Cross, showing blood-stained teeth. “Do I look cool?”
He was so close to him. Before he could think Cross leaned down, just slightly, and kissed him. The sweetness strengthened just slightly as Killer’s capsule bled into his. It gained a taste: Killer. Fake blood smeared. Cross could feel it run all the way down his chin. Some of Killer’s eye-tar smeared onto Cross’s cheeks and dripped down his face, though it and the blood felt one in the same. He felt like he fell into Killer. Cross’s mind was racing. His soul pounded. He was never the one to do this sort of thing.
Killer pulled back a moment to laugh. “You’re insane.”
So are you.
They kissed again, and for a second the world fell away. It was just them. Cross wasn’t himself, and neither was Killer. Not on Halloween. They were just monsters. A vampire and a killer. His Killer. They could do whatever they wanted. Be whatever they wanted. And something about that was thrilling. And they were together tonight. Together.
“You’re beautiful.” Cross said, almost whispered, to Killer when they were through. He didn’t know what he was doing.
Killer laughed. “You really are insane.”
Cross didn’t wipe the blood from his face when they went back to the music and the noise. Killer didn’t either. For whatever reason he kept the mask off for the rest of the party, too, leaving the crimson on full display.
Cross drank more. He remembered Killer laughing, eyes wide, as he watched Cross down more and more cups of punch. Cross wasn’t sure why he was acting that way. Maybe he was tired of all the shit in his life. He deserved to be stupid and normal for one night. Maybe part of it was to impress Killer. He’d never been drunk in his life until he met Killer, he realized.
He remembered staying until they were the last ones at the party, and all that remained was trash on the floor and silence save for their own voices. He remembered Killer saying “so that kiss, huh?” and Cross shoving him in the arm. He remembered stumbling out onto concrete, piling into the back of an Uber with Killer while they laughed and laughed, and then somehow making it up to his apartment with Killer clinging. dazed, to his arm. They stood around for a while doing nothing in particular. They might’ve kissed again, against Cross’s kitchen counters. He wasn’t sure. At some point Killer had left and Cross stood alone at his bathroom mirror. He gave a slightly less awkward grin to his reflection. He had lost his fangs sometime during the party. His eye makeup was smeared just slightly. Now-dried fake blood still colored his mouth, and his cheeks were blackened by Killer’s eye-tar. He was exhausted. He was alive. He would regret, and undoubtedly forget, all of this come morning. And he’d have to figure out how to get to work without his truck. He decided Halloween was his favorite holiday.
halloween kross in november who give a fuck. this isn’t my best ever and i worry it’s not fully fitting to the au but we ball
this au, rental suits, belongs to me and @psycho-chair!!
“Guess what’s this weekend.” Killer asked, his back turned as he leaned against the checkout counter and fidgeted with the tab of the drink can he held.
Cross had to think for a moment. “Halloween.”
“There’s gonna be a party.”
Of course. When wasn’t there a party.
“…I don’t know,” Cross said. “Halloween parties are like, college student stuff.”
Killer turned to look at him. “That’s a shitty excuse. C’mon, you only get this kinda thing, like, once a year.”
‘what thing?’ Cross considered asking. He was hesitant. Though, he felt himself get a little bolder. He wasn’t sure why. Halloween could be different. He felt like he’s had this conversation with Killer a million times.
“Fine.”
Killer beamed. “Friday night. Meet at yours?”
——————
Cross gave an awkward lopsided smile to his reflection in the mirror, showing the plastic fangs that sat over his teeth. He unnecessarily smoothed out the cheap black high-collared cloak draped over his shoulders with both hands. A simple white long-sleeved button up was partially visible underneath. Purpleish makeup had been applied messily to under his eye sockets to mimic some manner of eye bags. He inhaled, then exhaled. Hesitant to leave the safety of the bathroom, he lingered at his reflection, stewing in his own nerves. But, a handful of knocks at his apartment’s door forced him to pull away.
He padded over carpet, turned the lock, then twisted the knob. Suddenly he was met with a figure with dark, sunken, empty eyes and a grotesque face that almost looked like a mask. It jumped out toward him, flashing its hands as if it aimed to grab him. He darted back as a sound close to a yelp escaped his mouth. Abruptly the figure laughed and pulled off its face, which Cross now realized was for certain a mask, to reveal Killer’s familiar smile underneath.
“I got you so fucking good.” He beamed, proud of himself.
“You asshole!” Cross said, though a grin teased at his mouth. He punched Killer in the arm and Killer laughed again.
Cross absorbed Killer’s outfit of choice, now that he wasn’t so startled. He wore an unzipped black jacket a size too big that Cross immediately recognized as his (though he couldn’t remember when he’d gotten a hold of it), a white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. In his fingerless gloved hand he held a knife that was obviously real, and his clothes were flecked with a red that Cross almost took as real blood, too. Though, he realized it was too vibrant to not be fake. In his right hand he grasped the mask, a typical rubber halloween mask that covered the whole head with only holes for the eyes and a smaller hole for the mouth. It resembled the face of some creature, with exaggerated sharp teeth and wrinkly skin. Serial killer costume. Original.
Killer eyed Cross head to toe. “Vampire.”
Cross nodded.
“Looks good on you,” Killer smirked. “I like the purple. Though I could’ve done it better.”
Cross smiled just slightly and rolled his eyes.
“I appreciate you getting fake blood on my jacket.” Cross commented back, and Killer looked down at the garment as if he’d forgotten he had it on.
“Be glad it’s not real.” Killer beamed.
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go.” Cross said.
——————
Cross pulled his truck up to their destination, Killer in the passenger seat. The host’s residence was in the bottom floor of the apartment building this time, apparently, because costumed guests mingled on the grass in front of an open sliding side door. A dim orange light streamed through the door, partially coloring the lawn, and Cross could faintly hear music.
Then they were inside. Cross passed all manners of beasts and ghouls and monsters. Though, everyone’s costumes were cheap and not very high-effort. The kind you just buy at a store and put on, with cloth that feels like plastic and hollow plastic props. Demons, werewolves, witches, vampires, zombies. Scantily clad nurses. Serial killers, clowns, grim reapers, mummies. Whatever you could think of.
He gazed all around the space as he walked. The apartment was dimly lit, save for a few battery-powered candles and multicolored LEDs scattered around the place. Music fitting for the occasion wafted through the whole apartment, and in the living room Cross found an old box TV front and center, playing a decades-old slasher film. Grainy sounding screaming emanated through the apartment every so often, and a menagerie of people congregated by the couch to pause and watch. Mostly people seemed to just be gathered with friends to drink and talk. Some danced, some stood outside and smoked. Every corner of the apartment was lively with guests. Though, it wasn’t as suffocating as other parties Killer had taken him to. He kind of felt like he belonged here this time.
Cross followed Killer into the bright light of the kitchen. It’s overhead light was the only one on in the apartment, and the white glow from it bled out onto the carpet of the conjoined living room. On the counter was a bowl of punch, a disarray of different soda and beer cans, and an orange bowl of candy. There was also a few boxes of pizza.
Killer poured himself a red solo cup of punch and turned to Cross.
“How much you wanna bet this is spiked.” He said, his voice and face obscured by the mask now back over his head.
The punch was definitely spiked. Somehow, Killer eventually convinced Cross to have some, and the rest of the night became unclear in his mind as a consequence.
He ran around the party with Killer, laughing and dancing and joking. And drinking. Not at first, but slowly, he felt free to do whatever he wanted. What he really wanted. More than usual, anyway. With this costume on no one would truly know who he was, and with theirs on too no one would even care. He was hidden. He didn’t have to worry about what they would think. He had fun. Actual fun for probably the first time at one of Killer’s parties.
Killer drifted from group to group, though he was always brought back to Cross. And Cross clung to him. They talked, made each other laugh until they were crying. Danced like idiots. Killer had that stupid mask on the whole time, and once the alcohol started settling in Cross became desperate to his face.
At a point Cross found himself standing on the concrete strip outside the apartment’s sliding door, directly outside the kitchen. He held a paper plate housing one and a half pizza slices, and beside him, Killer had his own plate. It was quieter out here. There was only about three other people with them. And it was dark; Cross could only see the grass a couple feet ahead of them. The rest was blanketed in a silent darkness only disrupted by the few lights in apartment windows.
Cross saw Killer pull his mask up and let it sit propped on top of his head as he searched, one-handed, in a jacket pocket for his cigarettes. He opened the pack and fished out a cigarette with his teeth. He then found his lighter and held it out to Cross. He maneuvered to hold the cigarette between two fingers of the same hand.
“Help me out here a sec.” He said, guesting with the lighter.
Cross took the lighter with his free hand. He opened it and reached toward Killer, who had returned the cigarette to his teeth and leaned to meet him halfway. Cross flicked the lighter and Killer held his hand cupped around the flame to shield it. A warm glow encompassed Killer’s face. Cross felt so close to him. After a second smoke wafted from the cigarette, and Killer leaned back to take a drag. Cross gave him back the lighter.
“Thanks,” Killer said with a grin.
They stood there in silence a moment as Killer smoked. Cross finished a slice of his pizza. It had grown cold from its time on the counter.
“Hey, watch this,” Killer said.
Cross looked over at him. Killer pulled his mask back down, then meticulously brought the cigarette up to the mask’s mouth-hole. He put it through just slightly, then inhaled. When he exhaled smoke flowed through the mouth and eye holes. As he pulled the mask back up Cross saw he was grinning at him.
Cross laughed and shook his head. So stupid. But what was even stupider was that it worked. In that moment, he was so utterly endeared.
There was another stretch of silence.
Cross glanced over again to see Killer offering his cigarette to him. He hesitated a moment. But in a surge of impulsiveness he took it, and took a drag. He started coughing immediately, doubling over a little. The taste was suffocating and bitter in his mouth. Killer laughed, laughed hard. Cross laughed with him.
“I haven’t smoked before.” Cross said through a cough. At least, he couldn’t remember the last time he tried it.
“I can tell.” Killer smirked, taking the cigarette from him.
“That shit is gross, how can you stand it?” Cross laughed.
“You get used to it.” Killer shrugged, grinning.
Cross then found himself again, some time later, sitting on the couch in the living room, which was pressed up against a wall with a big window directly behind it. He sat longways with his back against the armrest. Killer was positioned perpendicular, his legs draped over his lap and head tilted back to rest on the window. He still had the mask on, and there was still a movie playing on the TV.
“You go to so many parties,” Cross said, glancing out the window. The moon was bright. “People only ever go to parties to hang out with their friends. But you never know anyone.”
“I know you,” Killer said. Cross could hear the smirk on his voice.
Cross reached and slowly pulled Killer’s mask up so he could see his mouth, then his eyes and the rest of his face. He let the mask rest propped on top of his head. They just gazed at each other for a moment. Cross wasn’t sure what he was doing. He thought about kissing him.
Cross abruptly put a palm to his forehead and threw his head back in dismay, as if he just now realized how drunk he was. “Fuck, I was supposed to drive us home,”
Killer just laughed. “I remember when you said you didn’t do parties.”
“I still don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Killer was unconvinced.
“Why do you go to so many parties?” Cross asked.
He didn’t answer and there was a stretch of silence.
“You’ve been gettin’ kinda bold tonight.” Killer teasted, looking toward Cross a little more.
“Shut up.”
Later Cross was standing by himself, in a hallway away from the kitchen and the living room. Killer had disappeared somewhere. He watched guests go by, their costumes flashing color in his vision. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his undershirt, searching for where Killer went.
Then, he appeared, grinning triumphantly as he saw Cross. “Look what I scored from another vampire.”
He held out his palm, on which rested two red pill-shaped capsules.
“Fake blood,” Killer said. He was close enough Cross could smell the ever-present smoke on his breath. “You put ‘em in your mouth and it looks like you’re bleeding.”
It felt almost so juvenile to Cross, with how much real blood he’s seen covering his carpet. With the states he’s seen Killer in. But at the same time, none of that seemed to matter to him now.
Killer lifted up his mask, and Cross’s eyes were drawn to his face. Killer selected one of the capsules and put it in his mouth between his back teeth. After a breath Cross took his own capsule and held it between his molars. He bit down slightly. He saw a trail of crimson begin running tantalizingly down a corner of Killer’s mouth.
It took a moment, but Cross felt liquid seep from the capsule into his own mouth. He let it creep from his teeth to his chin. It was syrupy and vaguely sweet, though it didn’t really taste like anything.
Killer grinned at Cross, showing blood-stained teeth. “Do I look cool?”
He was so close to him. Before he could think Cross leaned down, just slightly, and kissed him. The sweetness strengthened just slightly as Killer’s capsule bled into his. It gained a taste: Killer. Fake blood smeared. Cross could feel it run all the way down his chin. Some of Killer’s eye-tar smeared onto Cross’s cheeks and dripped down his face, though it and the blood felt one in the same. He felt like he fell into Killer. Cross’s mind was racing. His soul pounded. He was never the one to do this sort of thing.
Killer pulled back a moment to laugh. “You’re insane.”
So are you.
They kissed again, and for a second the world fell away. It was just them. Cross wasn’t himself, and neither was Killer. Not on Halloween. They were just monsters. A vampire and a killer. His Killer. They could do whatever they wanted. Be whatever they wanted. And something about that was thrilling. And they were together tonight. Together.
“You’re beautiful.” Cross said, almost whispered, to Killer when they were through. He didn’t know what he was doing.
Killer laughed. “You really are insane.”
Cross didn’t wipe the blood from his face when they went back to the music and the noise. Killer didn’t either. For whatever reason he kept the mask off for the rest of the party, too, leaving the crimson on full display.
Cross drank more. He remembered Killer laughing, eyes wide, as he watched Cross down more and more cups of punch. Cross wasn’t sure why he was acting that way. Maybe he was tired of all the shit in his life. He deserved to be stupid and normal for one night. Maybe part of it was to impress Killer. He’d never been drunk in his life until he met Killer, he realized.
He remembered staying until they were the last ones at the party, and all that remained was trash on the floor and silence save for their own voices. He remembered Killer saying “so that kiss, huh?” and Cross shoving him in the arm. He remembered stumbling out onto concrete, piling into the back of an Uber with Killer while they laughed and laughed, and then somehow making it up to his apartment with Killer clinging. dazed, to his arm. They stood around for a while doing nothing in particular. They might’ve kissed again, against Cross’s kitchen counters. He wasn’t sure. At some point Killer had left and Cross stood alone at his bathroom mirror. He gave a slightly less awkward grin to his reflection. He had lost his fangs sometime during the party. His eye makeup was smeared just slightly. Now-dried fake blood still colored his mouth, and his cheeks were blackened by Killer’s eye-tar. He was exhausted. He was alive. He would regret, and undoubtedly forget, all of this come morning. And he’d have to figure out how to get to work without his truck. He decided Halloween was his favorite holiday.
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