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She showed up at Kris’s door with her hood up and her tail twitching, smelling like smoke that wasn’t hers. She had one of her mother’s old flannels tied around her waist, the sleeves long and dragging. Kris didn’t ask. Just stepped aside.
Toriel, from the kitchen, poked her head out and said only: “Shoes off, dear. I just mopped.”
Like Susie belonged there.
Like she wasn’t a guest anymore.
Kris gave her the couch and curled up on Chariel. Susie protested, at first—“It’s your damn house, dude,” she said, “I can sleep on the floor, I’ve done it before”—but Kris was already half-buried in blankets and completely silent, which meant the conversation was over.
At some point, when the house had gone completely quiet and the shadows settled, Susie whispered:
“Hey.”
Kris shifted their head to look at her.
The moonlight caught her hair, the jagged edge of her teeth. Her eyes were clearer than they ever were at school. No posturing. No sneer. Just Susie. Bare and real in a borrowed T-shirt, her knees pulled up, her voice a rasp.
——
i have extremely specific thoughts on krusie
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Bookmark Notes:
Nor romance, not friendship, but a secret third thing
I love them your honor
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Bookmark Notes:
Ohhhh my god. jesus christ. holy hell. good angel my heart im crying im crying im crying im crying. <3 <3 <3 <3 themmmmmm.