Work Text:
It was well into the night when Killer's soul started to malfunction.
They'd just wanted to go to sleep early, they wanted to surprise their partners with breakfast, do something sweet to make up for how they had acted the week before. But now, sitting on the floor next to their bed with nothing but the dull glow of their soul and a vast silence, their mind wandered deeper and deeper and deeper .
Normally someone was around to help them if they started to spiral, but now no one was there. Alone in the darkness they replayed everything they’d done wrong so long ago, the looks of betrayal, the muddled voice of the human ringing through their dust-stained memories.
And now they were left with a broken, confused soul. A soul that wouldn't stop moving, a soul that twisted and wobbled and spun, a soul that wouldn't listen . Killer could only shake and sob quietly as they watched the soul continue to shift in their hands.
"Please," they croaked, "please, go back. I don't want to remember these things, please , go back…" The soul didn't obey, only continued to shift and swirl as Killer pleaded. "You were a target all last week, why can't you do that now? Why can't you listen?" They whimpered helplessly. They hated it. Hated how much power this thing held over them. If it didn't want to listen then fine, they would just have to make it.
Killer held the soul in their hands for a moment before completely enveloping it, squeezing it with more and more force. They needed it to be something else, they KNEW it could be something else. It was just being stubborn.
It needs a little push.
They ignored the pain shooting through their body as they attempted to reshape their soul. It was fine, once it was corrected, they wouldn't feel a thing at all. They could make up for last week another time.
The soul began to ooze between Killer's fingers, but still they squeezed, harder and harder. Everything ached. Their vision became blurry. They could feel every pulse, every twitch, each involuntary ping for help, each hit point dropping lower and lower until-
"Killer?"
They jolted and swung their head behind them, facing the voice. Cross's mismatched eyelights stared back with worry.
"Killer, you… are you okay? You were screaming," He said, kneeling down until they were eye level with each other. Cross glanced down to their hands only for a split second, the eyeless skeleton quickly attempted to hide the half-squished soul in their jacket.
"I wasn't-" Killer paused, wincing, suddenly aware of the sharp pain in the back of their throat. "... hey, don't worry about it none, I'll be alright," they said quietly, waving a hand dismissively . Cross looked at them, sadness washing over his face.
"Can I come closer?" he asked. Killer looked away. They didn't want Cross to see them like this. They knew he should - Nightmare said something to them about it being healthy or whatever - but Killer was apprehensive. They had no way to gauge how Cross would react.
Cross had soul problems too. He used to be very quiet and defensive about the state of his soul, even yelling at Nightmare one time when he tried to summon the soldier’s soul for healing reasons (he had apologized for days after). That was when he first joined; when he was still fighting for control with the human and unsure of his place if he wasn’t serving someone.
However, the difference between them was that Cross learned to accept the state of his soul. Everyone in their little gang, Killer included, lifted Cross up slowly and surely. Even on his own terms, Cross learned to cooperate with the human, he learned what to do with the pain it gave him some days, and he learned to not be ashamed of his soul.
Killer didn’t.
Killer looked at their soul and felt nothing but hatred and disgust. It served only as a bitter reminder of who they used to know and what they did. It made them feel wrong. It made them an outcast even among outcasts, and they were jealous. Jealous that Cross had similar soul conditions, the same support, the same situations, yet he still managed to bounce back faster than they did.
It didn't make them feel any better about their soul.
“Just tell me if I’m overstepping, okay?” Cross said as he sat beside Killer. His voice snapped them out of their spiral. Killer gave Cross a brief glance to show they'd heard him.
They sat in silence for a minute before Cross spoke again. “Can… can I see it?" The eyeless skeleton visibly tensed at the question, but Cross was quick to assure them. "I’m not mad, I promise, just let me hold it for a moment?" he cupped his hands and held them out to Killer, who stared at them as if they might bite. After a long moment Killer whispered, "Okay." and gave their soul to their partner.
The lightly warped soul hovered above Cross’s palms as he looked over it. One of the earliest things Killer learned about Cross was the telltale signs he was forcing his expression to be neutral, unreadable. They could see him doing it now, and it made their nonexistent gut twist with unease. He wouldn’t need to do that if he wasn’t upset. Killer started to apologize, but Cross spoke before they could.
“You’re beautiful even with your soul, you know that right?” He said, his voice quiet. Killer's mouth shut with an audible click. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “It’s the culmination of your being. It’s you, through and through. In fact, you know what I see when I look at your soul?” Killer raised an eyebrow, Cross continued, “I see a wonderful, gorgeous, unique, beautiful soul attatched to someone who’s all those things and more. I can promise you everyone else thinks the same. Dust was just gushing about you last night and went on a whole ramble about your soul.” He chuckled lightly. Dust would kill him if he ever found out he told them that.
“I know you don’t like it. I know you hate it. I know you want to get rid of it, but It’s a part of you, Killer.” Cross traced his fingers along the side of their soul and Killer sucked in a breath. “And I love all of you.” He looked up and made eye contact with Killer at last, who stared back at him with wide eyes. For a moment, they were speechless. They’d expected such a wildly different reaction, they’d expected disappointed sighs and subtly angry words. Killer could hardly help it as soft, red magic began to well up in their sockets and they held back sobs.
Startled, Cross began to utter apologies and assurances, worrying he’d upset his partner rather than comfort them. However, Killer was quick to prove otherwise as they grabbed onto Cross, pulling him close as they cried and hiccuped into his shoulder. Cross let out a small sigh of relief and rubbed his free hand up and down their spine, letting the other skeleton soak his sweater with tears and liquid determination. He was lucky he was wearing mostly black today.
After several long minutes, Killer began to quiet down. The long, loud wails became occasional hiccups. They were slumped into Cross’s hold completely, too tired and exhausted to hold themselves up.
“Sorry for being a wreck,” Killer mumbled into Cross's shirt. “You shouldn’t have to put up with me, I know it's so much work.”
Cross shook his head, "Not if it's you. I like putting up with you, and if I were given the choice between you or the multiverse, I'd choose you again," He placed a kiss on Killer's head, "and again," another on their cheek, "and again." and a last one to their soul before letting it return to it’s place in front of Killer’s sternum. “I’ll say it as many times as I need to make you believe it.”
“You’re gunna make me cry again, stop doing that thing where you’re all sweet and mushy. That’s gay, Cross,” Killer let out a watery chuckle, earning a laugh from Cross as well.
“Says you of all people,” He lightly teased. “On another note, though, we should probably get off the floor now. We need to rest and I can’t really feel my pelvis anymore.”
“Yeah, alright. Can you pick me up? I don't think I have the energy to stand right now.”
“I was planning to anyway.” Cross said, scooping Killer up in his arms. He laid down with the eyeless skeleton still in his hold, a bit nervous to let go, and pulled the covers over them. He made a mental note to text the other’s in the morning. “Goodnight, soulsprite. I love you.”
Killer responded with a gentle snore.