From Me, To You.
Originally posted on ao3.
You can find my kris x soul series on my ao3 too, it’s called, Raising A God, ongoing.
A tale as old as time, two humans find love and are banned from paradise above. It’s almost as usual as the tell tale signs of the loss of control Kris endures, a punishment worse than death— the concept of sharing their beloved.
If an unlikely knight, despite all, love finds its way to the girl and the human, both them and Susie create what they find is an unlikely romance, between them and their opposite lovers. Festival day has never been sweeter.
Sugary treat on a soft cotton bed, the kind of many blessings that grants them cavities, Kris falls in love with the past and for a selfish second lays duty aside, focuses on the beauty by their side and feels their jealousy subdued.
It’s something that belongs to them, not the soul, not their promise— it’s something entirely new.
or: what if instead of third wheeling, Kris sought out their second childish friend for a chance at their very own happy ending— a tale told from both points of views, jumbled and messy, but shakily happy, and crazy.
AN: This is likely the first and (or not) last writing of mine that will ever have “you” narration, that or it’ll be reserved for the deltarune fandom. My idea was to jump from Kris’ pov to the reader, and while I am content in what I’ve done, I can’t guarantee it is done well, but oh, I’ve tried!
It made me happy to write this, and my love for Kris is something that’s only doubled as the chapter progressed. Their anguish and inability to truly voice love as something they own was.. kind of charming yet gut wrenching.
This is meant to be written as an aborted weird route kinda thing, but the reader’s pov plays in when them and Kris are really interacting with suselle, so it’s not too noticeable.
I’d like to maybe continue on with this childhood friend reader, who unlike Kris, has a dilemma they can’t understand. They don’t want to be a monster, they’re happy as human.
But they also can’t relate to the only human peer they have, so it hurts!! Ah, proofread for once, but very badly!
The ending is a bit, maybe. Those who played the weird route get it.
Enjoy!
The festival meant love, joy, and a whole other sweet thing out of which Kris could make rhymes; happiness of a lifetime, enough joy to ignore the devil by their side.
The soul is excited to toy with them, make them the witness of what essentially is their two friends finally reaching happiness, while they, lonely Kris, sink further into the sand.
Still, there is hope in the sentiment of their upcoming date, which to the soul’s misery is not with Berdly. A blessing really, although Kris is unsure if a date with them instead is any better.
(Not because the other’s personality is akin to Berdly’s but for they’re way too sugary, something sweet and kind that’ll leave them with cavities, but to be spared the awkwardness of being alone, they’ll make do.
A double date, a festival with them, the sole other human.
In some twisted way, they can’t help but be content with this development, an outside source that knows none of their depravity. Someone who in the vast knowledge of their sins, makes Kris feel like they’re not guilty.
A savior who can free them of the cycle of sealing dark worlds and pretending, someone who cannot say whether they enjoy or hate the new kris but can notice some things are amiss
Someone with wide eyes, that knows and sees).
And so faith, in some odd way, seals their fate. Kris, aware of their inability to either get Noelle nor Susie settle for the next best, someone as sweet as the deer yet as fierce as the other monster— another loner.
The only human after them.
It’s quite a painting they make, a silent thing and the glowing sun. Kris enjoys basking in the other’s glow only because they can do one thing right; allow them to hide in plain sight. They’re too pretty to ignore, it’s amazing they even agreed to begin with.
It’s like when they were small ducklings, always holding the other’s hand and serving as Kris’ light, a very real and brave knight.
Over the years just like with Noelle, they had drifted apart and, for a while, Kris had been able to hide the (sole) second human of Hometown by not speaking of them all. They had been able to hide the gentle soul from the.. less than kind soul, to shelter them from the wicked angel.
To keep someone as deserving of joy as them, sane.
(Yet as it comes to be known, the devil is a charmer, and if unlike people who feel there is something wrong with them but say nothing, the other of their kind had immediately been honest.
They would only come to ensure Kris was not constantly third wheeling, not because of pure love or as a heroic feat— they only wanted to soothe the soil of their worry.
To maybe, like the other many people, assume that Kris was going through a phase all teenagers like the both of them experiment.
All that comes, though, to the other human, is immense suspicion).
Kris is still like an elusive puppy that’s only been recently adopted, if they no longer hide behind the other like they once had when they were both little things, the festival day comes, and the other is immediately waiting at their door.
Worse, they offer their hand— and like a foolish maiden only aided by the implications of a possible romance, Kris takes it, blushes and tries to ignore the soul’s feelings and squeeze.
Tighter and tighter, until this sensation becomes warmer and warmer— it makes things feel more tender.
This, in some odd way, is their (probably only) chance at having a lover.
────────
As best as they try to not remember to protect their own privacy, Kris’ heart and feelings in some odd sort of way, are weak to the other— and so, additionally, they have a lot of memories.
Cherished little tales that should be privy to them, unknown to the parasite in their chest, yet, nostalgia gains the better of them and so, they recall a puppy love they still cling to, even if knowingly, they (somewhat) feel the same for Noelle and Susie.
(It’s young love, they suppose, their inability to really tell if they desire friendship and are foreign with the concept of if the three love interests proposed to them really make their heart beat like it’d never before.
Kris is unsure if their fascination comes from the fact they can’t have either, and that their refound flame for one of their former friend— is not an awful attempt to replace or ‘fix’ themself.
Which in addition, is to be questioned if the joy is truly theirs, since after all, the soul came into play in even asking them. They’re so nervous, ready to paint the floor with bile and more lies.
Love comes with time, but love is already at their doorstep— and they’re shy, yet they can’t just fall back in line).
Love finds its way to Kris like it finds its way to the girl, instead of their wheeling, they hold hand (even if shyly) with the other as Noelle and Susie ready themselves to do whatever it is real lovers do together.
Though they suppose in a sense, they are a charmed young thing, the soul’s guidance makes them want to end it all, though not everything can be blamed on the deity as Kris themself squeezes tighter and tighter.
It’s only when the other speaks up that they’re pulled up from under the waters, lucid once more and aware.
“Wanna do something too?— ‘course we don’t have to, but I dunno..” Trailing off, they stare at the ferris wheel, it is in moments like these that Kris understands the notion of past, present and future.
They had always done everything with Noelle, and not much help for their other childhood friend, perhaps because they had always encouraged otherwise, it was an entire thing— focusing on everyone’s sake but their own.
Kris remembers the many times they’d done so. Writing Noelle and them for royalty at the festival, urging the both of them, small and ready to mimic Asriel and Dess to ride the ferris wheel, to do so many lovey dovey grown up things.
Well, love works in mysterious ways, but even then, Kris thinks they would’ve (and should’ve) done more for the other, maybe urging them to partake in a life that was also supposed to be theirs. But they had always waved dismissedly and settled on the idea that if people were happy, they had nothing to be bothered with.
Simple as is, they were awfully patient— even now as they wait for the awkward teenager that Kris is, they let them take the reins and let their poor (not so) frail hand be clawed at.
And as always, even if their voice has become foreign to themself and anyone who would notice if time was taken— they say “yes”, a yes that the soul probably, too, whispers. Both are uttered for utterly different reasons.
One is for LOVE, and one is for love. It’s as simple as two doves, one which is wicked and the other is a lesser evil, for Kris wouldn’t go as far as to call themself deserving of the title of pure, granted, they’re being used but they’re agreeing nonetheless.
…but for once, at least for a few hours, today is their day, is it not? So, selfishly, they want to have their own thing— their “human thing”.
“Awesome, Ferris wheel it is then?” Said with so much gentleness, the cherry on top being Sans having to remind the two children of his presence as they take too long staring at each other— Kris looks at the floor, the other just smiles at the skeleton.
And so they’re in for a ride. For a moment, Kris wonders how things could’ve turned out different if they had been more human, like the other. Not so obsessed with fitting in.
(Because fundamentally, that is the reason for their different upbringing, the other human had been adopted by an equally nice monster family, but they had never tried to reshape reality.
They were human, simple as is— and in that distinction, they found a certain happiness. Like reading their favorite book: The History of Humans and Monsters).
Kris doesn’t like to dwell on the past and furthermore let the soul be curious of their past, so instead, they take comfort in the rotation of the ferris wheel, awkwardly but tentatively lying their head on the other’s shoulder.
It makes them zone out, disassociate. They suddenly remember a lot of things they had not thought they could remember.
It’s like a flash of many different things, each ranked by a list, even if tiny, of how many wonderful memories the two of them ended up sharing. Granted, most (all of them) only happened when they were kids.
Like for one, when chaos was very present, and yet, the other human always had this simple notion of being calm and prepared. Reading a book even as the once normal picnic dissolved into a mess of trouble, groans and screams.
Kris, as ever the prankster, had always liked to tease or mess with Noelle, perhaps as retaliation in a sense— a kind of amusement they can’t quite pinpoint why they enjoyed. Though they always remembered rushing to hide behind their human friend, whose head was engulfed in their book even as Kris used them as a very literal human shield.
They didn’t dislike it though, that’s for sure, for the smile gracing their face never went away. Even as they had to carefully settle down their book and encased the other in an embrace while proclaiming protection.
Kris thinks, aside from Noelle and their admiration for Dess much like the one they had for Asriel— this was their real puppy love, something that made their usual unnoticeable blush apparent as they hugged back and grinned in victory at Noelle’s lament.
Secondly, and perhaps, actually, the best memory— is the many late night talks they had, Kris always finding a way to convince Toriel that the other had to stay over.
(And perhaps it had been more easy because having another human meant Kris would learn things from them, that probably had been the hopeful scenario their mother crafted, which as always with the mess they were, failed.
But at least they felt really loved).
“I don’t think it’s bad to be human.” They had always explained, late at night while letting the tv go on, even as Kris’ face was already sporting a frown.
That never really bothered them though, they’d just playfully rolled their eyes and grin at the other human child— and then they’d present their hand, patiently wait for Kris to take it, and trail the lines on their palm as if fascinated by it.
It made them feel kind of silly, how easily red they got and how big their grin became. They always liked messing with the other, knowing it never got to them,
“We’re both humans, but soon enough my horns will grow in, and then you’ll be the only real one left, y’know?” Back then, their voice still had been theirs— a luxury they had long lost now, Kris always remembered that evening as the night the real deity of their life came to be.
They had simply smiled, poked Kris’ headband and ultimately grinned as well— grasping the other’s face in their equally tiny hands and laughed.
“Well, I guess it’s okay! You’ll still be my best, not so human, not so best buddy!” Always so ready to please, so ready to go along with their stupid whims, they mimicked their mother as much as Kris loved to mimic Dess, joining their faces together and nuzzling before simply clinging to them, taking them both down to the ground of the living room as they both laughed.
It always felt nice, to be allowed to be another kind of menace with them— Kris supposes that’s where their liking came in, as funny as it sounds.
Maybe they always desired someone strong because they were tired of being the one.
And as any late stays concluded, Toriel would always find the two with their limbs tangled, Kris’ head comfortably resting on the other’s chest as if content to hear their heartbeat while the other’s arms encased them.
It was as though a larva soon to be a butterfly protected by a cocoon. Kris always slept well on nights like these and never woke up in a foul mood.
The ride doesn’t last that long, Sans doesn’t even let them up the top, nor did Susie and Noelle. Though, Kris believes they’ve had enough time to daydream either way, so it’s of no matter.
What really and always will do it for them, is the squeeze of their hand and the next words that make the already present butterfly in their belly slap their wings faster.
“So..” they’d always begin, humming before grinning wide, invading the other’s space and getting all up in their face as if to see the emotions behind those veil like bangs.
“Where are we going next? Take your time.” They always ask with a sort of non-existent time limit, as if the festival will wait all day or millennia if they must— so Kris takes the rare initiative they’re given, ignores how fast the soul could ruin it for them, and tugs the other alongside them.
Their hands together create this warm feeling, an odd kind of guilt blooming. It’s shameful and wrong love, granted— but pure, teenager love, too.
There is no doubt.
────────
The human isn’t really a human and whether in that statement you speak of Kris or simply yourself is not to be known. You’re a pretty bad person as it stands, less of a savior and more the butcher that leads the sacrificial lamb to its slaughter.
And still, Kris remains— you hadn’t exactly expected them to. Not when their flame with Noelle had been rekindled and yours had (as you rightfully thought) dimmed. Dess’ disappearance had left everyone with their own scars, never quite closed, except maybe yours, in some regard.
You’d applied a bandage over it early on, maybe because you’d only ever been in the small little group to begin with because Kris existed, and that another human, in yours, was the best gift one could give a small lonely child.
Funnily enough, the town likely forgets it— but it must be a reminder you’ve long since stopped throwing in, sometimes it needs to be lighted up once more though, because people tend to let their mind trick them— you were here before them, you were effectively there before Kris.
A lonely child is a lonely child nonetheless, but even surrounded by many young monsters, you never felt as alive as you had been when your mother drove you to the Dreemurr’s— watched as mom (for yes, you had a tendency, back then, to consider Toriel yours alone) stepped aside.
What hadn’t been expected is what stood hidden behind her figure before she moved, only to reveal someone quite like you, maybe more shy though. Because if you were the radiant sun and kris something that had to be space adjacent, maybe the moon too, was far too noticeable.
You’d always wanted to refer to them as a star, maybe a small planet, millenias away from the earth’s solar system.
Even if they were, they’d be your favorite discovery, the kind of once in a lifetime achievement you can never go back from— a very real Kris, your Kris, a Kris that existed not for you, but allowed themself to orbit around you.
There had been festivals like this one, way back when, before Dess left and you subsequently stopped tagging along in hopes of not making it weird— you had always been too energetic, maybe too alive for people that deserved mourning.
Your goal was to have Kris and you elected, though you never spoke much of the ideal, rather happy in getting Noelle out of her shell. Not only because you were kind, but because it’d please everyone by your side.
Dess would be happy and teasing, and in return, Kriss would be content too— because surely, even as a child back then, you could see how life worked for them.
If Dess was content, so was Kris, and if Kris was pleased— so were you.
Still, they had lost, like they’d lost many times before. But this year they had put their all into it, Noelle even broke down in very real tears.
You never knew how to soothe people without being overbearing, so you had let Dess have a go at it as you stood there, watching everyone coo over the crying deer.
You hadn’t felt cast aside, you just kept to your part. Like a benevolent flower ready to calm someone by letting them admire them, during the whole parade, you nestled between Kris and Noelle, holding their hands as the girl clung to you.
It never felt like you had been jealous, because you hadn’t been. Still, your lack of action or as your father called, to sugarcoat all your horrible traits; your patience, never let you enjoy yourself.
Nobody had voted for you, but many people never get voted, so you did as you always did, and smiled.
Life’s constant punching bag, a human amongst monsters— a human that unlike Kris, never really knew why, but it had no desire to really fit in. You loved HomeTown for what it was, your small little town.
…but it never really felt like a solid home, especially when unlike Kris, you had no sibling to speak of, and your nights when not over at theirs were spent staring at your space wallpaper.
Space is a beautiful place, where neither humanity nor monsterkind rest, a place between linear and liminal, something you could have.
A consciousness where you’re nothing but a tiny dot in a grander scheme, those were your thoughts even as a small thing, a way of thinking that continued even as tragedy struck.
Yet you only conformed, ignored your own wants and played the kind nurturer.
You remember when Dess went missing.
Not because it particularly harmed you, you never really found yourself close to her as the others were, but because after that, Kris became a shell of themself.
(They had always been a little shy in a sense, but never outright dead inside, …but no they were, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay by their side).
You lasted about four weeks with this gimmick, coming to soften Toriel’s worries and sitting with Kris, sometimes watching TV— but the closer they came to killing every trace of themself they’d established, the harder it was for you, a child that had been lonely before they came to understand.
You tried a long of things, by such a saying, you mean it— so many things, born out of desperation.
“..Kris?” It’s always like that on the phone, your voice gets all quiet and you try your best to keep a gentle tone. You always fail to hide your excitement when near them, and they usually always loved to tease you about it.
They still did, but they sounded tired, exhausted.
And as patience personnified, you let them get better, that is to say, you vanished without a trace.
It makes you recall why you’re even at this festival in the first place.
You still see it as a contradictory yet welcoming surprise when just before the day of the festival, as you’re settling into bed because your mother had always insisted that “the early dove” gets more love— you hear your cellphone’s ringtone.
(You almost forgot how nice it sounded, you’re not quite sure what the song had been called, ah, Once Upon a Time—? Maybe? You think that had been it).
You only had approximately 10 people that could even have your number, and even then, double digits were too gracious, considering that despite being so kind, you were alone, if not completely gone in people’s mind.
A goner, if you’d be jokingly thinking of your social status.
Your contact list is as bare as your heart, which you confidently wear on your sleeve. It contains the only few people that’ve mattered over the years, even if talking with them is a long gone history.
Toriel, Sir Asgore (for calling him simply Asgore or dad like you’ve once called Toriel mom.. felt odd), your own parents, ah— Noelle and Kris.. oh, and Berdly!
On technicality, you owned Mr. Sans’ number too, but he wouldn’t call you so late, if at all. So you just assumed it’d be Toriel, asking if you’d be at the festival like she did, each year, even after the incident.
You’d always answer in that energetic but shy voice of yours, apologizing with a small “sorry, mom”— a nickname only uttered when you and the older woman were alone, to show her that you couldn’t come.
You’d be alone. Kris and you weren't as close as you could’ve once been, if anything, your existence likely made them sick.
You’re sure of that, because even if not close emotionally to Dess, your mother and hers had insisted you were at times, one in the same. Both rule smashing bandits ready to play tricks, and you too recall, that only in those troublemaker hours did you and the monster get along.
…ah, but the phone— you pick it up and almost gawk at the name on your screen— it’s Kris, as in, the very real and now forever distant Kris.
They remembered your existence, did they accidentally “come back” to previous senses? There was no way that amongst the apparently many new friends they were harboring, including the very scary Susie, that they could even spell your name anymore without issue.
But as the eyes are the door to the soul, your mind hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It indeed was your once beloved friend, your human buddy, the one you’d always playfully scold with an over the top “you’re so silly!”
You immediately respond to the call, like a bird tempted by a prize, though in your case, at best, you’re chasing after mediocre crumbs.
“…hi!” You sound almost desperate, a little breathy and happy— and you are, but the shame is still here. You can’t help but add onto the pile, immediately, in your awkwardness, ruining any chance of romance your delusional brain could’ve built.
“Did—” you sound unsure, yet you’re also certain of your following statement, knowingly ready to accept the loss. “Did you get the wrong number, Kris? It’s okay if you did—! It happens to me! All the time! Ahaha!”
It doesn't, because you have no one to call. The other end of the line is so silent, you think you’re about ready to cry.
But then you hear their voice. Not the weird voice this brand new image they’re trying to hold owns, but the small almost imperceptible monotone like tone they own, between unaware of their own rhythm and fully knowledge on how dry yet playful they could sound.
“…Hey.” They say, and you can help but beam with an ever higher “hey!”, then a reminder of how early your parents like to doze off, you quiet but grin nonetheless— a small little squeak of joy, you repeat the “..hey!” but quieter, your fear barely hidden amongst your positive emotions.
“Do you wanna go to the festival with me?”
You think you remember exactly how you reacted then, as you settled in your beat, your soul pulsing inside your chest as you felt the nausea come from the overwhelming idea of this being a nightmare, that soon enough, you’d wake up in a cold sweat.
They must notice your silence, and your heavy breathing— why are you so unable to own subtle panic? Ah, another thing that’s fundamentally Kris’ thing.
“…Forget i—” “WAIT!” It’s so quick, you give yourself whiplash from trying to sort your feelings, but oh, you want it— you’d love it, you dream of it, every year.
“I wanna go! I’ll go— … if you’ll have me, is that okay? I’ll be— Noelle, kind of, well no, her dad did.. tell me she’s going with Susie at the festival, ah and you friends— I get you don’t wanna third wheel and—” you can’t help but sink further into the send it seems, you always do.
“…Pfffft. He..hehe..”
You cut yourself, blinking at the sound coming from your device— a laugh, from Kris? Your Kris? After all those years, you can still pull such gentleness from deep within them?
…good to know!
“I’ll let you sleep now.” They still know how to make you have tunnel vision, apparently. Because they hang up so quickly, you’d believe they’re the flustered one, when you’re the one feeling so! But it makes you smile, it soothes whatever ache was settling in by your side, ready to cuddle you for the night.
Well, not tonight— that feels right.
And the next day hour passes, you have fun, you suppose— after the Ferris wheel, which you’ve many thoughts about, you, Kris, Susie and of course, Noelle— before getting ice cream, decide to stop by to hope for a prom king and queen.
(..weird notion, you’ve always called it royalties, because you’re neither king nor queen and so is Kris. You’re just you and they’re just them).
You wonder what you should do, it’s actually a lot. Should you vote for you and your pair, or do as you’ve always done the previous years when the event still mattered in your head? You’d usually go for Asriel and well, yeah— but now, Noelle isn’t trying to win with Kris.
So, maybe.. just maybe? You could—
“..Hey.” Kris whispers to you, and you can’t even recall how or when they’d gotten so close, seemingly focused on you as they show you their papers, two names clear as day.
You and Them, in that messy handwriting of theirs— your name stylized while theirs remain bland, you can’t help but chuckle as you watch and watch, it’s cute, really.
As if motivated, you finally decide on allowing yourself this, writing both of your names in your best version of your handwriting, grinning at each other with a flush to your respective faces.
It seems Susie and Noelle easily notice your secret exchange, because the purple monster immediately spins you round and tries (and succeeds) to take a look at your paper. Which then, has her leaning in, whispering something to Noelle.
As if convinced, the deer girl beams and nods with her partner, suddenly motivated as she scribbles down on her paper, and immediately both of them present their offering to you and Kris.
They’ve voted for you two, too.
You stay quiet for a while, almost sniffling as Susie starts to laugh and Noelle gets closer to you as if panicked you’ll bawl from what you’ve perceived as immense kindness.
Kris, near you, simply smiles— you think you notice an almost relaxed expression on their face unlike the few days where even if they think they can hide it well, you can notice their immense distress.
Moving on, not before being teased by Susie about “winnin’ and getting diseases from kissin’”, you’re ready to follow the two girls after your group has gotten ice cream.
(A simple nice vanilla flavor for Kris, you don’t like too much sugar, funny as it is— but they’re the one, and it doesn’t get as romantic as this to you, that wanted to share. You don’t care for the flavor, just the promise of the indirect kiss).
Kris isn’t the same though, you find, for their grip on the arm you’re not using is somewhat tight. It makes you stop in your tracks and reconsider.
Susie and Noelle are going to the water, maybe.. Do they want them to have more privacy? You can agree on this. So you smile at the two and urge him with your hand to go, they both blush, but play along the opening you leave them.
Even tho you think, just like you, Kris probably felt Susie’s worry— but you’re sure she’ll ace it.
Whatever she says, Noelle will be content to have time spent with her.
So you and Kris are alone, and you smile softly before fully grinning.
“Wanna go to my house? We can watch TV.” You’re not sure they’re interested in whatever sappy romance series you’ve been watching, but they’d like anything you do, and so, they follow.
It’s honestly, not as awkward as you’d thought, in fact, you’re pretty sure that many times— the way you and them both consume the ice cream borders on you being grounded if your parents walked in.
But again, you’d do anything for Kris.
Which is why after finishing the treat; you go along their whim, even if they seem to resist themself in the idea of going.
So you end up in your room, a lifetime of memory, nothing changed.
The photos on your walls are still there, the many and various memories of the two glued to each other— the testimony to a lifetime of devotion to someone as flawed as them.
(But you’re no better yourself, you’d argue).
“I kept everything.” You remark as they watch the walls, particularly a picture of you and them on halloween— you’d always liked to switch the stories, forcing them to dress as an angel and you had the devil.
In the picture, you and Kris are very much mimicking Asriel and Dess’ behavior, your faces are close to one another, you almost lay some kind of kiss on their face as you both stare at the camera.
You’re both slightly flushed but giddy, ah, how sweet— speaking of both you, in the picture! And maybe currently too!
The next words shock you as much as they please you, because Kris always pull the rug from under your feet and makes you swoon.
“…Wanna do something crazy?” and they offer you their hand, like they hold all the answers— like they can fly and take you with them.
And like a fool in love, what other choices do you owe if not the right one?
“..Yes.” you answer breathlessly, like you’re being saved by an angel.
Crazy together, forever.
