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One time, Susie hurt herself, and Ralsei healed her. She was not used to that kind of thing, so what happened shook her so deeply the memory is still fuzzy, broken, and sometimes she keeps reliving it in her mind: he comes up to her without warning, taking her hand with a gentleness she wasn't even distantly aware of and would keep obsessing over for months afterwards. She feels the energy from the healing spell and the relief running through her whole body, the warmth of his fur, the way her hand flexes and squeezes reflexively as he takes it. The secret, quiet smile Ralsei offers her: I know, it's weird, right? It's okay. He squeezes back, eyes shining. It's just me. Her heart hammers in her chest, but at the words, she feels better, and isn't that a thought? When did that become reassuring? When did he become just him?
Ralsei is a lot of things, and one of those things is a coward.
She doesn't get it. She doesn't get it. Why wouldn't he just talk? Just tell them? Just tell her? If he'd done it, she wouldn't have obsessed over the prophecy, she wouldn't have deluded herself into thinking things could be like in a fantasy, or a storybook; she wouldn't have thought she could be anything more than herself. Susie's had years of getting used to the idea of being made as an exception to everything, to be made wrong. She doesn't need to be coddled: these days were nothing more than a sweet, beautiful dream, soft like Ralsei's scarf, where nothing is ever permanent, every wound is curable with an electric little spell and a warm paw, and she's a hero, a saviour, someone good. But Susie knows it's an illusion—she always did. She knows that's not how it works, and most importantly she knows there's nothing good that doesn't come at a high price. She'll be fine. She'll be fine.
And still, he kept it a secret—for what? So that they can do his bidding and he gets to know everything all the while? So that he gets to suffer and act like a martyr, so they can just let it happen? So they can just, what? Live on like it's nothing after it's happened? What a fucking idiot. Scared shitless all the time because of this? Ralsei begs her, and begs and apologises, over and over. Her hand hurts and burns and this time there's nothing to ease the pain along.
Ralsei cries and she's angry, and yet she can't help but be reminded of how he cried just a little earlier, too. How he was shaking, how small he looked. He's shaking now, too, like a fucking leaf, holding onto her arm like it's a lifeline, desperately, as if he would ever do that in any other circumstance, and she lets him, now. She hates it, despises it, she's furious with him—but she still lets him. She can't help herself.
She remembers what he said: he must have held this in for a long time. It might be the stupidest thing she's ever heard, but—to him? It has to be huge. She can picture him: thinking about it over and over, losing sleep over it, obsessing over it, certain it's going to happen, and it's not. It's not. She knows it's not, she is not letting that happen, she will not let that happen—but Ralsei? Ralsei is a coward. She looks at him in the corner of her eye and she's hit with a wave of loneliness and fear she's not sure belong to her.
So Susie takes a deep breath, and lets everything go—because he's a coward, because she's mad at him, because he hesitated before crouching down next to her and he rubbed her hand with his thumb when he healed her, because he's the sweetest, kindest person she knows and hearing him cry feels like a punch in the gut that hits ten times harder than the words shining on a glass screen. Susie turns to him fully and looks down at him, his hand on her arm reluctant, his eyes wide and the shiniest they've ever looked: he's there, right there with her, now. She understands: there is nothing before or after this.
She tells him it's absurd. She tells him she's not letting it happen. The light coming through the fake windows is low and blue, hitting the side of his face wrong, her head is spinning, the surreal atmosphere of the Dark World that's usually so pleasant starts to feel obnoxious, confusing; suddenly all she needs is to feel him real, fleshy, corporeal under her hand. She gives in to a selfish desire, the first of many; she masks it as a comforting gesture and holds his face as tenderly as she can, fighting against all of her instincts. Her hand on his cheek is wet, sticky. Ralsei's still warm, too warm; the tears have wet his face, mix with the blood and he flinches when she makes contact, squeezing his eyes. Would you look at that, she thinks bitterly, seems I'm not the only one.
There's red on his cheek, bright, obvious through her fingers. She rubs her thumb over the softest spot between his nose and his eye, stains it. When she lets her hand fall, moving away as the spell is broken, Ralsei's hand holds onto her for just a second longer.
/
"Susie."
"Mrrnhh."
"Susie…"
"Wha?"
Ralsei perches his chin on her clavicle. "My glasses…"
"What 'bout them."
"Need them. Can you." he breathes through his nose as his eyes drop closed. "Get them for me."
Susie smiles, sleepy. She can barely see. She feels around with her hand and wraps her arm around Ralsei's back when she finds it, her fingers in his fur just under the hem of his shirt—well, her shirt. "Not sure if you've noticed, but you're fully using me as a mattress."
"'M not. Preposterous."
She laughs, breathless, and tightens her grip. "What time is it?"
He sounds sleepy and whiny, his words slurred. "I don't know… ugh, it's almost dark out… and I was supposed to have a nap, Susie. A nap."
"…You know you haven't been sleeping well."
"I know."
"And it's Sunday."
Ralsei takes his hand to her long hair and plays with it absentmindedly. "Mmh."
"You slept well, at least?" She looks her friend in the eyes. Big and round right under thick, short, light eyebrows. His white, tight curls frame them beautifully, and here, in the light, the tip of his nose is slightly pink. All these years and she still needs to get used to it.
"You know I did."
"Then no problem. Right?"
Ralsei hums. He's staring at nothing in particular, somewhere beyond her head. It's never a great sign. "Rals?"
"Mhm."
"You know you could just- just come spend the night, sometimes. You know that, right?"
"I do that, though."
"Well, yeah, on Fridays, when we have sleepover night with the others. I mean whenever. If you're not sleeping well."
Ralsei's expression is blank. "I don't know, Susie."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Ralsei," she says, trying to get him to look her in the eye. "Will you tell me what the hell is up with you?"
Susie hears the sound of crickets from the open window as he thinks before speaking. "You know I don't like imposing."
"You're never imposing."
It's late in the afternoon, it seems. The warm, golden light hits Ralsei's eyes gently—at times like these, they're as black as they were in the dark world, opaque and secret. "I know."
It doesn't look like he does. Ralsei seems haunted in a way she's never been able to ease and will never be able to; and that's fine. That's the job of older people, of professionals they're in the process of convincing him to see and stand-in parental figures they're trying to make him trust. What confuses her is why he won't just tell her. She feels a weird sense of deja-vu: how he keeps facing everything on his own, how insistent he seems on isolating himself like they've never come to rescue him all those years ago. "Rals."
"What."
She moves messy locks of hair out of his eyes. "You gotta talk to me."
His look saddens, and he slides off of Susie, lying down just next to her, still pressed against her arm. She's immediately cold all over, except for where he's touching. "I do. You know I do."
"I know it's hard. That I know. I'm- you know I'm the same. I just want you to-"
The words, as usual, get stuck in her throat. She's had years of practice, and breathes deep, turning towards him with her body. "Rals, I want you to come here. Sleep here. Impose. Whatever the hell you wanna call it—whatever you want."
He turns his head and his eyes finally focus on hers again. "Susie, I… I can't just-"
"What?"
"Can't ask that of you. It's- too much."
"I'm the one offering-"
"No, no. It's too much", he insists. "I'd ask for too much. I need too much, and I want too much, and the two things overlap and confuse me, and I shouldn't, I never-"
He huffs, looks away, and she puts a hand on his shoulder. "Never…?"
"I never should have wanted like this," he murmurs. "I know it's not true, I know I can want things. But I'm still getting used to it, and some- some of those I just feel like I can't… they're too much."
Whenever Ralsei talks like this, Susie always feels like the casual façade he builds up falls off and she can see how afraid he is. She sees it in his look and his twitching nose: afraid of what, she wonders. Her? No. She's let that thought go a long time ago. Afraid of what?
"So," she smiles, "I- I told you what I want. Okay? Enough from me. What do you want?"
He smiles, sheepish. "…I want to sleep here."
"Attaboy. Anything else?"
"Um. Can I- I want to play Kris's ds. You can watch. I'd like that."
"Ohh, an egregious request."
He giggles, and his canine shows. Cutest and sharpest tooth Susie's ever seen.
"Anything else?"
He shrinks on himself a little. "Um."
"C'mon. I think you know you can tell me."
"It's just embarrassing."
"I'm, like, the most embarrassing person alive, Rals."
"It's just-" he turns his head so that he's hiding his face in Susie's shoulder, covered by her hair. "Can you tell me too?"
"What?"
"What you want. It makes it feel… more okay. I think."
As soon as he says it, Susie's hit by a pang of fear and affection. The idea of being shown, of showing, parts of herself she mostly keeps to herself, thoughts so tender, sweet that they disgust her—she sobers up and reminds herself they're okay, and normal. After all this time, after all this work, she still hates feeling vulnerable. She takes a deep breath. "I like it when you climb on me?"
Ralsei snorts. "Hmm?"
"Don't laugh!"
"No! No, it's, uh. Just didn't expect that phrasing?"
"Oh, shut up. I mean I- when you sort of, just, lay on me? It's- nice. I like that."
"I… like doing that too."
"Oh, really? I didn't notice. It's not like you do it every single time you come nap with me."
He gives her shoulder a light shove. "So, you want me to...?"
Her face heats up. "Yeah, idiot. I want you to keep doing that. Whatever. If you like."
He smiles. "Okay."
"…well?"
"Oh, um." He hides his face once more and he stays silent for a while. "You know when, um. When we wake up? I always wake up first."
"…is this another lecture about not sleeping late and using an alarm, because—"
He giggles. "No. It's- when I wake up, you're always still sleeping, very deeply. It always takes me a bit to wake you up. And I end up… looking at you while you sleep."
"Weirdo", she says, brushing his hair away again. It's gotten really long. It looks nice. Has she told him? "So you want, what? Me to wake up before you?"
"No," he whispers, "I just want it to keep happening."
"…oh." She stops the little caresses she's been absentmindedly doing with her hand to his arm. "Okay."
Ralsei is now resting his cheek on her shoulder. He looks up—his eyes are full of something she can't read. "…is it okay?"
Her mind is blank. "You like that? Really?"
He takes a few seconds to reply. "You're sweet when you sleep. And when you're just waking up and you say half of every word. Your turn."
She has to take a deep breath, again. It's easier with him. "I like it when you touch my hair. Or, anything really. I like that you always t-touch me, when you're with me."
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah. It's- you didn't use to do that. And it just makes me feel like I… like someone wants- wants to do that."
"I want to," Ralsei whispers, his fingers through her hair, "I always want to. Even when I didn't do it, I wanted to."
"Really?", she says. "Even, even back then?"
He nods. "I… hahah, I always wanted to see if you really were as tough as you presented yourself. I was curious. Then, after, I just- I just wanted to-"
"To…?"
"Hug you?" He shrugs. "You know how I am."
"Yeah. A huge softie." She wraps her arm around his shoulders and pull him in—she loves doing that. He smells like the cinnamon scented shampoo Toriel buys for him.
He giggles. "Shut up. Says you, you hypocrite."
"Hey. I have my reasons."
"Which are…?"
"I can pretend I'm eating a cinnamon roll."
He laughs and trembles in her arms. "Remind me to bake you some later, actually. Great idea."
"Kris will love them. Please keep some here at my place."
"On one condition."
"Mhm?"
"Tell me another thing you want?"
"Wow. Other than your cinnamon rolls?"
"A-ha. Yep."
She runs over her tooth with her tongue. "When you say I want to- I like to-to hug you, and everything, you're right."
He smirks. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. 'Cause, the thing is." Two deep breaths. She's never said it out loud, never talked it into existence, but—"I like to feel that you're… real."
His smile fades and he stares up at her.
"Always was the point, really. Since the first few times I did that kind of thing." She huffs out a bitter laugh. "I always… that's what I was actually looking for. Just wanted to keep making sure. Might have pretended it was for your comfort, but truth is, it was for mine. It was always… selfish." She shrugs. "Sorry. I guess."
In lieu of replying, Ralsei buries his face in the crook of her neck, wraps his arms around her shoulders, holds tight. "I didn't know."
"It's fine, you didn't-"
"I'm real. I'm real, I'm here," he whispers, pulls back, holds her face in his hands, "I'm here, Susie. I'm not leaving you."
"I- I know. I know, Rals," she breathes. Her heart is hammering in her chest. It takes her a second to make sure her voice isn't going to waver. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"What are those things you want that- that you think you shouldn't? That you think are too much?"
Ralsei's expression changes, looks at her timidly. "Susie-"
"Ralsei," her arms drop to his waist, and slowly, careful of his reaction, she pulls him as close as possible. His hands lie on her clavicles. "Listen. It's okay."
He shakes his head. "It's not."
"It is. I'd never judge. I promise. I don't know how to-" She presses her forehead against his and laughs, pitifully. "I want to. That what you wanna hear? I want you to."
"Susie, I-" Ralsei's nose is bright red under the layer of fur. He breathes hard, his pupils widen. His eyes look down for a split second and Susie instinctively knows what she's asking for.
She's starting to sound desperate. "Can you show me, then?"
His breath hitches. "Susie-"
"Yes, you can, can't you? You can, Rals", she blabbers, frantic, moves closer and closer, her fingers press into his back a little possessively, a little desperately, "you can. C'mon, show me, please-"
With trembling hands, Ralsei grabs her collar and pulls her down to kiss him.
It's—
Everything she wants, and then it's over. It lasts for a second before Ralsei lets go and shrinks away, saying "sorry, sorry, I'm sorry-"
So she gently takes his face in her hand and kisses him again. And again. She kisses him despite her whole body's shaking with adrenaline, and he kisses back, makes a soft, vulnerable noise every time she kisses him again, until his breathing's calmed down, until his muscles relax and he melts in her arms. She hugs him close and rolls him on top of her, and when Ralsei pulls away he pulls himself up so that he's towering over her.
They stare at each other for a few seconds. His eyes are as intense as they used to be years ago and as bright as they'll ever be, his face dark and starstruck. She never tells him, but—he's beautiful. "Okay," Susie says, "so those ones were a little too raunchy to tell. Got it."
Ralsei's face contorts in shock and he gasps, yelling "Susie!" As he presses his hand down on her face. She laughs and pulls him closer to her. "Sorry, sorry…"
He sits up so that he's sitting in her lap and covers his face. He groans.
Susie props herself up on her elbows. "Rals."
"Mmngh."
"Rals…"
He sighs shakily. She doesn't know what's upsetting him—or, rather, she does, but it makes no sense. She's learned how to reassure him most times, but to be fair, this is new to both of them. She doesn't know if her voice would work with her if she tried using it.
She resorts to using what she can. Gently, she raises a hand and moves Ralsei's arm out of the way. He pulls away, a little, but she cups his face and pulls him close. He lets her.
She nuzzles against his jaw and smells cinnamon and sweat. "What's up?", she whispers.
He slowly tangles shaking fingers through her hair, and sighs again. "It's a lot."
She kisses his pulse point. "I know. For-For me, too. But it's a good lot. Right?"
Ralsei hesitates just long enough to make her worry, then, "…feels too good to be true."
"Oh. Wonder what that's like." She chuckles. His breathing's fast and ragged. "Take a deep breath with me?"
She feels silly, but damn it, does it work. He does, her hand on his chest. She tells him to keep going, and he does. His eyes feel a little more focused. "Good. Good. You feel a little better?"
He nods. "Susie…"
Oh, his eyes. She'd look at them forever. She'd write a poem about them. How has she never written a poem about them? "You know I feel the same, right?"
Ralsei's breath hitches and his eyes well up. He blinks fast, wipes his eye with his hand. "Okay."
"Hey," she coos. "Hey. Come here", and she hugs him and holds him close. He's shaking all over, and she can hear his breath stutter as he sniffles, his face buried in her shoulder.
"It's stupid," he mumbles after a while, "I- I keep t-thinking I'll w-wake up and you'll be gone."
She presses her mouth to his shoulder. "Damn, we gotta get some object permanence lessons, you think?"
He chuckles wetly. She moves her hand up and down his back, like she knows he likes, and breathes, feeling him, just him in her arms. Making sure. Always making sure.
Only now, for the first time, she realises he's doing the same: their breaths synchronised, his fingers comb her hair from root to end. His weight on her legs and shoulders. Her chin fitting into his neck like two puzzle pieces, and she's unsure where she ends and he begins. Maybe it was never a matter of one or the other's benefit. Maybe it's always been this: both of them, making sure, always making sure.
She mumbles, "you deserve this."
He squeezes her shoulders even though there's no way for them to be closer, presses a kiss to her temple, whispers, "you too."