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Kris doesn't really know how it happened.
Or when, or how, or why, and where.
And when they squint and try to think about it all, a little bit too hard, sometimes, it all feels like a blur.
The sound of Susie's laugh rings in their ears. And somewhere else, the faint ding of the oven bell registers in their ear.
They're making cookies, or something like that, anyway. They're burnt around the edges and black on the bottom, charred, but Kris knows Susie won't even notice it in her conquest of them, maw open and swallowing them whole one after one.
And ultimately, if she's happy, so are they.
Their mother says something, that maybe they should take a walk outside or something for a little bit, “just until the cookies cool down.” She's probably going to make a new dozen from scratch, mix them in with the burnt, let Susie believe there were some salvageable ones, because that's Toriel, foraging diamonds in the rough. Just like when she met a broken Susie crying on the bench, and instead of seeing anger and fear in this shut off girl, saw a light glow from within.
Kris sees it, too, the light, and sometimes, when Susie looks at them in a certain way, they can feel something unidentifiable stirring up in their gut, and their heart, something they thought could no longer move out of its own volition, starts to beat just a little bit faster. They have to look down during moments like that, or else they know her prying eyes will meet theirs, and her snarky mouth will spill out a joke about how the color of their cheeks are starting to match.
And so they're slipping on their shoes, Kris’s red hand-me-down, big-brother sneakers almost brighter than their flushed nose. Susie pauses for a second to remark on how her beaten up boots now have purple patches spotting them, and she lifts them up in admiration, a sparkle in her eyes and a fang poking out.
The door shuts behind them when they leave. It's dusk, and lights begin to speckle the night sky. Just before Susie can finish her sentence about what it reminds her of, Kris’s mind wanders to the memories they've all shared of the Dark World.
“Heh. Yeah. I miss him,” Susie continues. “Uhh, Rals.” She looks off to the side as she puts her arms behind her neck and Kris can feel their heartstrings tug at the thought of their third best friend. It all feels like yesterday, when they really think about it. The memories come in fragments, and sometimes it's hard to even look at themselves in the mirror, because they can see their best friends behind them, just like when they all took in the Prophecy during their final moments. Kris doesn't regret any of it, they never will, but the thought of how they all got to this point–to the present– hurts sometimes, and feels so raw, despite it having been Angel knows how long already.
They continue walking and during their evening stride, come across puddles of all shapes and sizes. Kris stomps on one first and Susie skids the size of her boots on other smaller ones. Some of them are even completely covered by her foot, and Kris stares in awe and slight jealousy at a body they could never have.
“You're cool, anyway,” Susie would say when she caught them with that look on their face.
Kris and Susie can tell they're nearing home because the sickly-sweet smell of pastries wafts in the air, and Susie turns her maw up in the air, looking as if she's about to float to the windowsill. Kris laughs at her, but can't deny the temptation either.
There's one last puddle they stride past, and as Susie is ready to kick out her leg, Kris instinctively puts their arm in front of her, signaling her to stop.
“Hey! What the–”
She stops and looks down. It looks like a heart, almost. It's lumpy and ugly and indifferent to its surroundings, save for when Kris and her peer over it and see themselves in its muddy reflection. She doesn't say anything, just keeps looking down. For some reason, she's taken aback by it, and it seems like Kris is too, because she starts to see droplets hit the edge of the water and join the surface, like rain over the ocean.
Kris doesn't know how it happened, not really. They don't know how Susie is next to them right now, why it took them and her and Ralsei long to really get to know each other all those years ago, don't know who they'd be without it all. They don't know where they would be without her right now.
Certainly not looking over a heart-shaped puddle, which resonated with them so much that they started crying, their best friend silently waiting next to them, because she's always so patient with them, always understands how they're feeling, always there for them. Susie is truly the silver lining to Kris’ gloomy cloud, the light that moves them so much they feel like they can do anything and everything. They find her in ordinary things like dandelions nearby in their yard, which make for quite pleasant flowers, despite being labelled as weeds. They find her reflection in silly puddles and their brother's trophies. They find her reflection in the stainless steel bowl they used earlier that day to make cookies, and in their own eyes.
They find her in every single note they find on their piano, thinking of how to introduce chords to her when she eventually asks to learn the songs they play for her.
They'll play together one day, and they'll keep walking down the street together, too. Kris will get better at baking cookies, if that's what she'll have every day. They'll pick all the weeds they can find from their overgrown yard and make her ugly bouquets that she'd find charming, and will make her drinks from the mossy puddles in glass jars with umbrella straws.
They'll have a place to come home to, every single day, and will stay together forever.
Somehow, some way, somewhere.
Kris knows it.
Susie knows it too.