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'Almost there, sweetie.'
Lulls of the hum of the worn truck, like a kind of wandering creature, cradled Kris as they lay in the backseat. Even when they were falling asleep, they could smell the faded leather, the sickly sweet flowerpots clinking against one another in the back; it smelt like love.
This is the story of a memory that had crawled itself into the deepest ache of their heart. It has never left.
It was a drowsy autumn - three quarters of the Dreemurr family had escaped the small town for a day trip. Kris had begged to stay home with Asriel who was feeling too ill, but neither parent felt comfortable with leaving him (the endlessly responsible despite being being only eleven) with the unique Kris-Dreemurr-Special unrestrained seven year old chaos.
This day had brought a spark of entertainment to the season for everybody but even they are not immune to the constant rule of the world: everyone has to return home eventually.
So they were all in Asgore's truck with the rain tapping gently on the windows and the radio murming something to do with car advertisements. The bumps of the road started to become more familiar as the town approached.
Kris tried to fight their eyes slowly shutting so they could experience the joy of seeing the house and Asriel from outside- maybe he would wave, or have brought them chocolate.. However, as the rumble of the peaceful vehicle continued their thoughts drifted more towards how fun it would be to be carried asleep out of the car and wake up in their bed, and so Kris fell asleep.
After maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour, there was a thud.
The truck lurched forwards in a sudden halt. Kris was jolted towards and awoke abruptly, bleary-eyed and upset.
Toriel and Asgore had both left the front seats, where had they gone? Kris thought they could see Asgore's figure in front of the car through the blur of the rainy window, but it was hard to tell.
Without enough time for them to think about anything, their door wrenched open and Toriel hurriedly leaned in. Her face wasn't readable.
"What's happening?"
"Shhh.. don't.. don't worry about it, dear. Just.. Asgore's going to.. and she's.. just go to sleep, okay? We're almost home, fall asleep to the radio." she whispered, trying so hard to hide her voice shaking.
Kris didn't object, only breathed in the familiar scent of her fur and settled back in the car seat. They tried to listen to the radio noises, but it had been having issues since they woke up, the man inside was talking haphazardly about 'calls' and 'hanging up' and something about links? Nothing that made sense. At least there was still the rain, now bashing against the dirty glass.
If it had been quieter, maybe Kris would have heard what was happening outside.
The screams from a girl who is now an only child.
The frantic comforting from a mother who so desperately needed to hear her own words.
The rue of the culprit who will live with this guilt for the rest of his life.
This child, horned headband and impressively unkempt hair, would not know that this was the last moment that their life would ever be the same.
This time when they fell asleep was different; they had a very unusual dream.
It was a pitch black room. Was it a room? There were no walls, only darkness spreading out everywhere they looked. Kris wandered about for a bit however the emptiness grew darker yet darker. They changed strategy and started to yell.
"Hello?" their voice echoed into the nothingness.
Silence.
Then, the crashing sound of hooves from all directions began thundering all around.
Round, round, louder, louder, Kris was forced to cover their ears with the tattered edges of their jumper. The noise kept screaming from every direction until they got nauseous from spinning around trying to find what was making it.
After rubbing their eyes vigorously and taking a few dizzy steps, they saw something in the distance that had not been there before; a person? Kris approached slowly - hands now fallen down to their sides and fidgeting with the inside of the sleeves - because it could be a threat like the bad guys from Azzy's video games or adultery like from the church.
It became more and more clear that this was a person, sat on the ground, with antlers, choppy short brown hair and- was that Dess? Before they knew it Kris was running.
"Dess!"
The figure that was now identifiable looked up in shock.
"Krismas! How did you.... nevermind. Come sit down." she said, gesturing to the void of floor around her.
Kris sat, still fidgeting. Dess grinned at them- her smile was so warm and festive that it almost seemed to light up the evergrowing darkness that was surrounding the two of them. There were tears still clinging to her eyes but Kris would not remember that.
"Hey, Krismas, want to hear a song I've been thinkin' of?"
Kris nodded, she hadn't really said it as a question.
Dess grinned again and pulled out a guitar seemingly from nowhere. Later, Kris would dismiss this as being part of nonsensical dream logic. She strummed on the strings experimentally once or twice, then started to sing a simple yet beautiful tune.
'When the light is running low and the shadows start to grow,
And the places that you know seem like fantasy...'
Kris was soothed by the song; it resonated with them in a way that was tricky to describe. If the truck had smelt like love, then this sounded like love. Yes, that was the right description.
'There's a light inside your soul,
That's still shining in the cold with the truth,
The promise in our hearts..'
Both of them were swaying along to the music. Kris had closed their eyes but when they opened them, Dess was staring straight at them with.. urgency? Like this was something really, really important. They felt a sudden pang of unease, but as soon as they looked back she was just looking at the strings.
'Don't forget, I'm with you in the dark.'
After the final note they both let the silence hang as if it was part of the song.
Dess stood up.
"Thanks for hearing me, you little freak. He's going to be here soon, you can't stay."
What? Kris thought but didn't say.
Dess looked at them hopelessly for a second, then reached out for a hug. It was a firm hug because of how strong and tall she was, not like the soft fluffy embraces they were used to. Still, Kris gripped on and smelt the vague christmas-candle scent that surrounds the whole Holiday family.
"Tell Noelle that I'm going to try, okay?" she muttered into their ear.
"What?" Kris thought and did say.
Dess didn't answer.
The void didn't answer either.
She let go and took a few steps back, then started to walk away slowly into the nothingness. The second Kris started to follow, a feeling of weightlessness overcame them and...
They woke up in bed.
Peace. Warmth, for a second or a minute. After staring at the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars on the side of the wall and slowly regaining memories, this situation didn't make sense. Weren't they in the truck just a second ago? Where is Asriel?
Kris shoved on their headband and clambered downstairs. Lights were off everywhere but the kitchen, and they could hear hushed voices. Unease. They stood at the bottom of the staircase hidden behind the wall; their parents were arguing.
"Of course he would storm out, he's devastated!" came the sound of Toriel's 'Angry Voice', only used for when Kris got in serious trouble (for what they thought were very reasonable situations) or when she needed to yell at Asgore, which had been happening more and more recently.
"Tori I don't know how to-"
"Don't fucking call me that."
"I didn't.. mean to do this.. I'm.. I'm going to lose my job, I can't.."
Kris could still cling onto the minutes of their old life: if they just returned to the warmth of the bedroom right now everything would be just as it was.... but they couldn't move. The arguing continued.
"Is that what you're really thinking of? What about the Holidays? What about our neighbours and long time friends who have loved and trusted us, been with us to church on Sundays?"
"Of course I care about the Holidays, Noelle and Carol and.. Rudy-"
From the gap in the conversation, Kris could only guess that Toriel had looked at him in a specific way that made him stop talking.
"Tori," he said, voice dropped to the lowest whisper that made them strain their ears to hear, "let's not do this now."
"Fine, why won't we talk about how to tell them you killed their oldest daughter with your truck!"
No more minutes. It had all stopped. Stopped, in that honey-lit hallway, with those spat words. It would stop for a very, very long time. There was now a split in this child's life - a 'before', and an 'after'. The after would have more spitting, more arguing, more numbness than Kris could realise this in that moment, but what they knew was that they could never go back to that truck the same way again. Love could never carry the same scent.
"I'm going to tell them, seeing how you just handled Asriel."
"I was just-"
"And I'll talk to Kris tomorrow. Goodnight Asgore, the couch is ready for you."
Upon seeing Toriel's shadow approach the stairs, Kris returned upstairs as quietly as possible. Only the angels knew how much they sobbed that night, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep.
What followed when they woke was: gentle talks, crying, a funeral, crying, a divorce, an attempt at therapy, more gentle talks, crying, and far too many burnt butterscotch and cinnamon pies.
This is the story of a memory that has never left.
Kris and Noelle are 13 - they are sitting in Noelle's bedroom. Noelle has been trying to show them a new mod for Minecrap on her computer (coated in sparkly colourful stickers), but eventually she gives up and looks out of the window.
From here, Dess's grave is visible in the backgarden. It's by the shed where she kept her baseball equipment and where her mother nagged her to put her bat although 'you know I like to keep it with me, what if someone broke in? I bet it's not just Santa who uses chimmneys-'
"A Holiday never goes close from the christmas tree!" Rudy sometimes comments when people notice it, then walks away before they try to ask him what that even means.
Both the kids stare at the grave. There is often a lot said with silence.
Noelle breaks the silence first. She sighs, and thumps down onto the floor which messes up her perfect neat hair.
"She's been 'gone' so long but Kris... I feel like she's still here, you know?"
Kris nods, they understand this deeply.
"Maybe if I just hoped hard enough, like in Cat Petterz, did you know that when an egg has a reeeallyy high hope stat it can hatch like, instantly? I want that to work for me."
Kris understands this far less deeply, but still nods.
"I just..." Noelle scrambles for the right words for a few seconds, "I wish she could hear me. I wish she had tried to hear me."
Her words hang in the air until she decides that they feel right.
"Yeah, I.. wish she tried."
Oh.
Kris sits up lightning-fast and grabs Noelle's arm. Together, they speed down the stairs, Noelle yells in confusion and Kris grips tighter. They arrive in the room with the large piano, and Kris sits down.
There are many ways to deliver this message, but this is the easiest. For them at least.
Kris starts to play.
The meoldy is simple yet beautiful, perfectly recalled from six years ago. Kris doesn't like to sing as they don't even talk much, but they whisper out the lyrics so that only Noelle can hear.
'When the light is running low and the shadows start to grow,
And the places that you know seem like fantasy...'
......
As Kris plays, they feel Noelle relax as she stands. Usually they're self conscious about their piano playing (and hate to be watched) but this feels different somehow.
......
'Don't forget, I'm with you in the dark.'
The song ends and the silence hangs. Kris is the one to talk first this time:
"Dess said she was going to try for you."
Noelle turns to them in shock, and tear filled eyes, and suddenly Kris can't stop talking. About the dream and the room and the song and Dess, and how sad she seemed in retrospect, and her hugs and panic.
She listens to them, and afterwards she thinks.
"Kris," she says, "do you know the bunker south of town? Me and Dess went there sometimes and the most interesting thing was how dark it was. Like, holy cheese and crackers, it was basically unseeable!"
"Would.... that be the room? Would she be there?"
Excited, adventurous, and maybe desperate, the pair start imagining a way that Dess had been somehow living in the bunker, maybe walked into another town or hidden land. They run to get ready (only Kris wears shoes, but Noelle had recently taken to wearing brightly coloured leg warmers) and... run out the Holiday mansion door towards the south of town.
......
This story can continue.
It can describe Kris and Noelle's journey to the bunker. Every feeling, every memory.
But isn't it better to cling to the minutes? Lives don't need more 'befores' and 'afters', right?
Some stories are not told for a reason, sometimes darkness only grows.
I urge you, cling to these mintues before you yearn for them. Return to the warm bedroom, the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars. Everything would be just as it was.
This is the story of a heart that will keep aching until it is too late.