Week 27 - Cross’s Room
creator: me :)
word count: 840
notes: A wee lil description of what I headcanon Cross’s room looks like. (Keep in mind I’m bad at this) Kind of a continuation from last chapter but you don’t need to read it for it to make sense, it’s just context to why Dust is watching Cross sleep.
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The other stirred, grabbing Dust’s attention.
Catching the others eyes as Cross turned over, Dust murmured in a soft voice.
“Are you awake?”
He sat next to Cross who was laying in bed. Cross’s bed shoved in the corner right across the door, Dust sat next to the head of the bed, leaning a chair against the far wall.
He watched as Cross muttered something before falling back asleep, eyes falling and blanket pulled closer into him, he didn’t realize the smile creeping onto his expression as he chuckled and turned his attention back to the scenery around him.
Cross’s room felt like… warmth.
Comfort. Childhood. Home.
Despite the lack of color, everything was so soft.
A large, soft, white carpet covered the middle of the floor, as if it were just a blanket Cross placed to act like a carpet. Tons of little strings and mobiles rained from the ceiling. Birds, butterflies, planes, planets dangled freely, Glow ‘n the Dark stars sprinkled and scattered over the ceiling, he remembers helping the other put them up.
The bed he currently lay in was unlike the others, sleeping in a bunk bed incase any of the others didn’t want to be alone yet needed space. The covers that lined the bed were big and soft and fluffy; swallowing you whole if you climbed in, wrapping you in the softest embrace you could ever imagine.
At the end of the bed, a bean bag on the floor, big and comfy to sink into on a rough day. On both bean bag and bed, stuffed animals littered everywhere, covering every surface. Pandas, bears, dogs, anything the other could get his hands on, anything he was gifted, he kept. It made birthdays and Christmas’s easy, just get him a stuffie and he’d be estatic, treasuring the gift with all his soul.
Next to Dust was Cross’s desk. Covered in papers books, pencils, and markers. Anything and everything sprawled across the desk, muffled sunlight spilling over from the drawn windows just above it.
Everything else in Cross’s room was neat and tidy, but his desk was an absolute mess. Dust didn’t know how Cross got anything down on it, but he had a feeling to Dust, the desk may be a disaster, but to Cross, it was all an organized mess.
Dust tried not to look, respecting Cross’s privacy and not wanting to snoop, but that didn’t stop Dust from gazing at the drawings around it.
Cross was the only one of them who draws, so it was always a surprise to see drawings and poems and posters taped up on the walls, most gathered in the corner where he placed his desk.
Across the desk was a small, make-shift gym. It was no surprise Cross enjoyed training, a punching bag hung from the ceiling. Surrounded by racks of weights and bands and whatever else Cross had collected. A training dummy or two also laid out and beaten, both well used and well taken care of in a strange Cross way.
Everything about it screamed CROSS! Not a speck of colors aside from sporadic drawings with scribbles of colored pencils or markers. Anything that could be was fluffy and soft, fitting perfectly with Cross’s everyday clothing choice. Lighting dim and warm with the artificial light not having seen use in years, natural and candle light being the chosen form of lighting.
It wasn’t one of the grand bedrooms the castle had to offer, they were all given a smaller room to ease them in and get used to living in such a big space and environment, but Cross chose to not move out of it, despite being there for around four years now.
Whenever anyone made a comment about it, he always refused the idea, saying “the space was unnecessary, the move would be inefficient, and he was content with the room he had already made his own.” The others let him have his preferences, understanding the other may not need the space and see it as intimidating like a certain glitch they knew.
But even now, Dust sitting next to Cross slumbering away peacefully, he could understand why Criss decided to stay.
Tight, warm, cozy. No where near claustrophobic and very far from empty. It was almost like snuggling up in a blanket, moments before you fall asleep. Dust didn’t understand how Cross managed to do this, but whatever it was he did, it was always like a warm embrace, walking into Cross’s room.
He remembered countless moments, endless nightmares, long nights making his way to Cross’s room, even before Cross had made it his own. It always held a sort of comfort and reassurance whenever he stepped foot in it.
He wasn’t sure what it was, the fluffy blankets, aesthetic room lighting, huggable stuffed friends.
There was a shift once more, catching Dust’s attention as Cross twisted in his sleep again, mumbling something under his breath, before going still and making Dust smile.
Maybe he did know what made the room so comforting…
