Chapter Text
Cross’ breath caught in his throat as he sat curled in on himself in the corner of the hellish house, his breath clipped and desperate, he had to get out, he had to, it was making him lose himself, he couldn’t look at the white anymore, forcing himself up on trembling legs, he pushed open the blinding white door and ran.
And ran.
And all around was white.
He fell, and he couldn’t get up.
It was all white, and he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t stop crying, he wanted to scream, he felt like he would pass out, he could barely hear himself screaming.
And then all was black.
—---
The first thing on Cross’ mind after waking up was how all this white was making his headache worse, the second was that his throat burned and he felt exhausted.
Seemed he passed out on the ground. That wasn’t too surprising. Pushing himself up, he stood on shaky legs and looked around for the house, finding the back of it relatively close.
..…Didn’t he run through the front and then straightforward?
This place must be really getting to him.
Barely managing not to trip on his own legs, he walked around the house to the front door and blinked. There was something new there.
On a cheap white plastic chair, sat what looked to be a human woman maybe on her teenage years, wearing a frilly, fully black dress that would fit a lolita style, long black hair cascading down her back, her earrings, too, were black, with only the slightest red shine to them, and even her skin was pale, clean of any make-up that could give much color to Cross’ world. But her eyes, her eyes were orange and fiery, feeling like a balm to his battered mind.
Shaking his head, the skeleton caught himself and rubbed his eye sockets, the realization that this girl definitely shouldn’t be here, that none of this was there when he last checked the front of the house finally sinking. Could he be having hallucinations? It seemed plausible, he might have no way to tell how long he’s been there, but it’s definitely been some days, and the girl wasn't moving… On the other hand, she looked so real and detailed.
There was one way to test wasn’t it? The skeleton looked at his hand and slowly reached out to the girl, his fingers gently running down her sleeve. It was soft and silky, and definitely felt real. The soldier looked at her, surprised, exclaiming “you are here… then why won’t you move? Talk to me!!”
But she didn’t, only staring blankly at him. Was she even alive? Or was she like some… Freaky doll? Cross groaned and stepped inside the house, closing the door and sitting against it, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He looked up at the house, it was so small, only a single room, with white walls, floor, ceiling, the mattress in the corner and the small table with a single chair, all white too, the one cabinet of the same color, filled with dry gray food that tasted like gravel, and his eyes began to fill with tears, he felt like he couldn’t do this anymore, not alone.
So he stood. opened the door, looked back at her, still and lifeless, yet real enough to fool, carrying such a strange expression for a doll, empty and blank of any emotion, and watched her, for some minutes that was all he did, looked at her eyes, that somehow blinked in regular intervals (didn’t some toys already do that anyway?) and how her chest almost seemed to rise and fall (surely, a trick of his turbulent mind) and knew, deep down, he needed to take this chance.
The doll was carried inside carefully, bridal style, and gently sat on the mattress with her back to the wall, the monochrome skeleton noticing that she was heavier than he expected before sitting by her side, her head tilting slightly to his direction.
“Guess we’re stuck together here huh?” he chuckles “And none of us even came wearing any color, can you believe it?”
…
“Well… my name is Cross… Ah, you can’t tell me yours, can you? That’s a shame.”
…
“I hope it’s ok if I call you friend.”
…
He sighed, feeling suddenly depleted, probably the earlier panic attack taking its toll now that his adrenaline was going down. “I don’t know what time it is, but I feel exhausted… Hope you don’t mind sharing the mattress, it’s the only one here.”
Gently repositioning his friend until they were both lying down, Cross put his jacket under both their heads as a makeshift pillow “good night… or I guess sleep… Friend…” and his eyes slowly closed under the gaze of his new companion.
—--
Outside of the endless expanse of white, a fight raged among the multiverse, positive arrows flew among the battle ground, dark tentacles whipped through the fight, the relative lull that had led to few battles before that day had been shattered by a shared distrust between positivity and negativity after one they considered theirs disappeared, colorful ink splashed and burned, shining blue strings swept through anyone who couldn’t see them coming, but it had been five days since the disappearance, after all, hammers, bones, blasters axes fought on the ground, almost too fast to see, anger and betrayal fanning the flames of a single question:
Where was Cross?
And yet both sides have yet to discover the other doesn’t have the answer