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The pain had worn off by now but the guilt stuck to him like the blood under his nails. No matter what he did, he just couldn't get all of it out. It was an incessant reminder of what had happened in that forest just two weeks prior.
Everyone was acting so weird. Horror was avoiding the kitchen, Dust was always angry, and Nightmare was always locked in his study. Killer could barely sleep as he kept having dreams about Cross and how he'd died in his arms when he could've shortcut him back to the castle and had Nightmare help.
But he couldn't change the past...
Everyone had also started falling back into their old habits they had quit when Cross moved in. He'd been so worried about them and they felt horrible about making him feel that way so they'd stopped....until now.
Horror had stopped eating and begun hoarding food he didn't eat. He'd always struggled with eating due to his home AU but Cross had helped him see that he didn't need to hoard food since it would always be available, but now he couldn't even be in the kitchen anymore.
Nightmare had started drinking again. He'd struggled with drinking but when Cross was around he'd helped him get sober and always helped him when he wanted to give up sobriety and drink again. Now he was drinking a bottle (of wine) a day and locking himself away in his office.
Dust had started smoking again. He didn't try to hide it like he had when Cross had been around as Cross would lecture him and make him hand over all the cigarettes he had. Now he was smoking at the table, the bathroom, everywhere but near Cross's room.
Cross's room...
No one had gone near it in days let alone entered it except for Killer the morning after it happened. Since then, everyone had been avoiding it like the plague. Like even going near it would kill them too.
- - -
When Killer woke up this morning, he went about his new morning routine where he lie in bed for an hour doing nothing but feeling empty and staring at the ceiling until he eventually pushed himself out of bed and went to get coffee.
But today, when he left his room, he saw that Cross's room had been blocked off. And not blocked off with just some simple lock, no. It had been blocked off with wooden boards and a heavy duty lock that would need bolt cutters just to weaken it.
He froze when he saw it, feeling as if a bucket of ice had been dumped over his head before having his soul ripped apart. "Who. Did. This." Was the only running through his mind as he quickly made his way downstairs where everyone was sat at the table for once.
"Who." His voice was low but the anger was noticeable if they listened close enough. "Who what, Killer?" Horror asked, voice quiet and raspy. He'd been crying again.
"Who locked up Cross's room." He didn't pretend to not notice the way everyone winced and/or tensed at the mention of his name or the way most of them avoided looking at the spot where Cross once sat.
"I did." Dust admitted, looking at Killer with hollow eyes. Killer clenched his fists and spoke through gritted teeth. "Why." Dust scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Because he's dead. We can't cling to him forever."
The way Dust spoke about Cross, like he was some dead goldfish he'd flushed away, only further pissed him off. But when Dust opened his big mouth and spoke the words "You need to move on" something snapped within him.
He didn't start crying again, no. He lunged toward Dust, tackling him to the ground. He didn't remember much after that. He only remembered the pain he felt as his fists collided with Dust's face, the sharp sting of Dust's knife ripping through his thigh.
The last thing he saw before he blacked out from blood loss was Cross's concerned face. "Crossy...?" His voice was weak as was his body but he managed to reach a hand up and gently cup Cross's cheek, causing him to smile. Then he blacked out.