Cross's gaze flicked up to Killer's face, confusion and a twinge of guilt in his eyes. "... Sorry."
He couldn't help it, not when it hung between them- glowing and twisting- screaming to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be known and loved and cared for and-
A gloved hand blocked his stare, fabric pressed against his brow. He did it again.
The hand on his face was trembling. So was Killer's voice.
"Don't... look at it anymore."
His voice was unnaturally tight, small cracks peeking out after each word.
"Just... Not tonight. Not now..."
"Sorry..." Was all Cross could manage. He was never good with his words.
They both sat in silence, the only comfort being the dark and the fact it was 5:00 am in the morning. No one but Cross was usually awake at this hour, the others usually emerging from their rooms around noon.
So, when he opened his door this morning to Killer curled up beside it, he didn't know what to make of it...
Nor did he know what to do when their eyes met, or when Killer just wordlessly pushed into his room.
"Do you..." Cross fidgeted with his fingers, leaning his forehead against Killer's hand. "Need anything?"
"... Wanna lay down?" He tried again.
That seemed to get a response. Cross felt Killer's touch leave him, followed quickly by the blankets being pulled upward. Killer wasted no time at all, laying down onto Cross's bed and tucking himself in. His back faced Cross, the soft red glow of his SOUL illuminating the wall against his bedside. Even now, he could see the light flicker and change on the wall, reflecting the turmoil he saw in it earlier.
Cross couldn't help but sigh a little.
He followed suite, getting comfy under the covers, facing the opposite direction of his new sleeping buddy. Even though he'd usually be training right now, the thought of going back to bed didn't seem so bad. He closed his eyes, the image of a red, coiling, disturbed mess plaguing his thoughts.
"... It's... Beautiful, by the way." Cross murmured. "Your Soul."
He didn't expect any response to his words, so when Killer eventually pressed his back against his, he felt his own SOUL flutter.
He waited for Killer to say anything, but when nothing came, he simply pulled the covers over Killer a little more.
Cross will probably ask him what was up later in the day, followed by Killer pushing along the conversation to move past it. Horror will cook breakfast like any other day, and Dust will brew coffee for everyone. Nightmare would see that nothing is wrong, and they'd all fall back into their usual routines.
Whatever this is will never be addressed, and some part of Cross hurts from that fact.
But for now, just for this fleeting moment, Cross will be here.
And sometimes, that's enough.
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