Chapter Text
The fuzzy features of Kris’s older brother twist and leer in the gnarled skin of a maple tree. Strings of sap make up his fur, his eyes pitted ridges in the wood, and Kris can almost see Asriel’s mouth twitch into a grin when low branches dip down, down, and brush against the mirage.
Because that’s what it is. A mirage. Asriel isn’t here.
Kris had wandered into the woods near the lake for one simple reason: to be alone. But the people who aren’t around anymore always seem to follow them, like a familiar sort of haunting; the not-quite dead chasing them under the covers, bobbing in their cereal milk, flickering in the smiling faces of old friends. (Kris won’t name her. Won’t think of Christmas lights and hot chocolate and gingerbread, because it all hurts like pressing on a bruise, and their whole chest at this point is soft and rotten the way peaches get when they’re left on the counter for too long).
The point is, no matter where they are, even in the heart of the forest, Kris is followed. And all they really want, apart from Asriel coming home and their parents unforgetting how to love each other and a heart that actually works right, is some quiet. Everything, all the time, is loud. Sometimes, they think of their own organs as percussion instruments一knocking against their ribcage, causing a fuss, and the mass of flesh behind their skull is no better. Picked-clean bones rattle up there. Day and night. Awake or asleep.
Kris runs numb fingers across tree bark and hopes it will do something. Hopes the biting wind poking holes through their sweater will suffice. Hopes the smell of wet leaves and sap and vague decomposition will engrain a new sense of purpose into them, because right now, there’s nothing. And there’s everything. And it all needs to shut up. All the maybe-maybe-nots and the question marks floating around and the horrible, gnawing plea of Oh God, Oh God please, let nothing else be taken away, unless it’s me. Take me next, if you have to take something.
It’s all a touch dramatic. They know this. Hence, the search for quiet.
What they don’t expect, at the troublesome hour of four p.m. on a Sunday, is to hear a twig snap. It’s too sharp and ringing to be anything but a person.
Kris whirls around and sees her. She’s frozen like a stone statue when their eyes meet, and they’d almost laugh at the shock written in her moon-yellow eyes if their chest didn’t ache so much. They stare, gaze roving over her torn jeans and tattered purple jacket, watching her slowly thaw out. A toothy sneer replaces her shock, and Kris sighs through their nose. Turns back around and keeps walking.
“Hey, nerd,” Susie calls. Kris hears her quick footsteps like concentrated thunder, acorns and leaves crunching like the crack of lightning. “You think you can just ignore me like that?”
They don’t answer一only hug themselves tighter, shutting out the wind as best they can.
She catches up. The first thing she does is jostle Kris by the shoulder, and they stumble slightly to the side. But they don’t look at her.
“Can you even hear me?” Susie grits out. “The hell are you doing out here?”
Kris stops in their tracks. They throw a pointed look Susie’s way. Up close, they notice there’s a cut on her cheek peeking out beneath her fine scales. Pink discoloration一bruising, they guess一spreads around it.
Susie grumbles, realizing that Kris could ask her the same thing. “Doesn’t matter why I’m here. It only matters that you一” She jabs a claw into Kris’s arm. “一are in my freakin’ spot.”
Kris glances around. There’s nothing of note here that makes it a “spot.” It’s just them, the trees, and the wind. Well, if she wanted them gone, that wasn’t a problem. So, they keep walking.
Susie follows. Someone is always following them.
“What’s your problem, man?” she asks, as if she hadn’t started it in the first place.
They walk and walk and walk until they reach a small clearing, where moss grows on the forest floor. They sit down in it, palms roving over the fur-like texture, thinking of Asriel. Trying to only think of Asriel.
Susie, for some reason, plops down across from them.
“Are you even a real person?” she says. It’s meant to cut, Kris thinks, but they take the question seriously.
“Dunno.” They pluck at the moss, closing their eyes. Sometimes, I really don’t know.
“Whoa.” Susie’s voice comes out with less smoke and more air, a clarity to it. “Didn’t think you could speak. Guess that makes you a real person, then.”
That causes their eyes to flutter back open, and they shrug.
She copies them, pulling up fistfuls of earth. “You come here a lot?”
Kris shrugs again. It’s only on occasion, when they need the quiet. But lately, they’ve needed a lot of that.
“It’s sort of nice. When you look at it the right way,” Susie says, tilting her head at the gray sky.
They tilt their head the same way, blinking at her through the curtain of their hair. “Like you.”
She splutters. “You think I’m nice? Yeah, right. Guess you would be the type to enjoy having your face shoved against lockers, freak.”
The corner of their mouth ticks up. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s something next of kin. For the third time that evening, Kris’s shoulders lift, only to fall back into place. They deny nothing.
Susie’s cheeks turn the same color as her bruise. “You really are a freak.”
Just to prove her point, Kris lifts a handful of moss to their mouth, chewing it carefully while maintaining eye contact. They swallow, slow and deliberate, and Susie bursts into laughter.
“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” She clutches her stomach and almost rolls over with the force of her howling.
They gather another helping of moss, then reach for her hand. Her scales are surprisingly warm, even with the chilly air encasing them. She flinches back, her laughter ceasing at once. They hold out the moss offering, and the crease between her brows smooths over. She flips her hand and lets them give it to her.
“You seriously want me to try this?”
They give her a flat look. “I’ve seen you eat chalk.”
Her eyes pop wide. A scowl takes over soon after. “That’s different. Moss probably tastes like a vegetable.”
Kris shakes their head. Pokes her hand to move it closer to her mouth. Finally, she sighs, then dumps the moss into her gaping mouth. Her long tongue swipes over her shiny teeth, clearing away any remnants, and their stomach does a weird somersault.
Susie hums, considering the taste. “Not bad, I guess. Beats goin’ hungry.” She starts shoveling more of the stuff into her mouth, and a knot of dread begins to form in their gut.
“You haven’t eaten?” They ask the question softly, like being too blunt might put her to flight.
She tenses anyway. “No school today, so no free lunch.” Green gets stuck between her teeth, and Kris has the urge to fish it out with their fingernails.
“Do your parents not buy groceries?”
All her limbs lock up, and a spark of heat flares in her eyes. “We can’t all have perfect families like you, Dreemurr,” she spits.
“Perfect,” Kris repeats, almost a whisper.
It makes her pause. She looks at them curiously, and they squirm beneath her gaze. Then, she grins.
“Hey, freak,” she says, dusting her dirty hands off. She scoots closer. “Wanna tell me why you’re really out here?”
“Only if you tell me how you got that cut on your cheek.” The words leave their mouth before they can stop them.
Susie blinks, automatically lifting a finger to the wound. She frowns. “Guess we both should butt out of each other’s business.”
They nod, but something about the privacy of this moment, the trees shielding them from the rest of the world’s view, makes them want to give her an answer. To let her pry beneath their skin, just a little bit.
“My parents aren’t together anymore.”
It hangs in the brisk air for a few seconds, bare and exposed.
Until Susie gracelessly rips it down. “That blows.” She splits an acorn between her pointer finger and thumb, scooping out the yellowy insides. Kris thinks that’s kind of what she’s doing to them: peeling away their outer shell, revealing what’s beneath. “Didn’t know that. Just sorta assumed everything was great for you. I mean, your mom still holds your friggin’ hand on the way into school.”
They grimace. “Not my choice.” They love their mom, but she can be a bit…much.
“Must be nice, though. Havin’ someone worry for you.”
She doesn’t have that. Kris can see it written on her face: She has no one. New girl in town, shitty parents, rough personality that makes it hard to find friends. They don’t exactly feel bad for her; it’s nothing like pity. But there is an understanding, a kinship that comes from realizing you and someone else might be cut from the same cloth.
Kris has never been normal. They’ve only seen someone with similar parts to them in anatomy textbooks and in the mirror. In a town full of monsters of all shapes and sizes, it’s funny how you can feel like the biggest mistake of all.
“Have you ever had that?” they find themselves asking.
Susie sniffs, rubbing at her snout. “Nah. Not really.” She laughs, dry and humorless. “I cause grief. I never get any.”
“Who told you that?”
She startles, probably because Kris had spoken pretty loudly. At least, for them. Or maybe it was the decisiveness of the question. Or, most likely, both.
“No one.” She sounds faraway, stuck in a memory. Maybe more than one. Her eyes go hazy and lose that fiery spark they always seem to have.
“If you choose to cause grief, it’s gonna happen.” Kris taps her knee, and she glances up. “But that stuff doesn’t happen on accident. Just by existing.”
“You sure? Seems like things always go to shit no matter what I do.”
I get it. I really do. Sometimes I feel like a repellent, leeching chemicals to make everyone stay away, and I don’t know how to stop. The words get caught in Kris’s throat. They’re too honest to say right now. So, instead, they ask, “What about right now?”
“Huh?” She cocks an eyebrow, confused.
“You messing anything up here?”
Susie scoffs. “There’s nothing to mess up right now.”
“Okay,” they say. A real smile graces their lips. “Sounds pretty great.”
Her mouth falls open a few inches. Realization pulls at her features, and once it settles, she smiles back. Not the too-many-teeth, snarling type of grin they usually get from her, but a true, honest thing. Kris thinks they’d like to see more of that kind of smile.
“Nothing to mess up,” she says, a little awed. “Cool.”
***
Susie ends up following them home, mostly because Kris offered her dinner. They felt an obligation to do so, because even if Kris doesn’t pity her, they can’t in good conscience let someone go hungry. No matter their past一the bullying, the name-calling一it just didn’t feel right.
But also, they kind of didn’t want that moment in the woods to end. Susie was more interesting than they thought, and it seemed she felt the same about them.
The weirdest part, though一and they only realized this after, on the walk home一the whole time they’d sat there with Susie, in the moss, it’d been quiet. The space around them, yes, but not just that.
Their mind. Their body. In both, silence had fallen. The rattling of bones and crashing of percussion had all but ceased. Thoughts became distant, like their whole world and field of view narrowed to fit this one girl and nothing else.
Crickets had come out and put music to their journey. Susie hadn’t said much on the way to Kris’s doorstep, hands shoved deep into her pockets and her head down. Matching her longer strides to fit Kris’s smaller ones. They think she might feel guilty about accepting their offer of dinner, and that’s why she hasn’t said much.
“She’ll be happy to have you,” they say, their hand frozen on the doorknob.
Susie blinks, momentarily confused. Her hands stay hidden in her jeans. “Huh?”
“My mom.”
“Oh.” She watches her own feet, straightens her posture. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
Kris opens the door. Warm light pours in, along with the comforting scent of an old family recipe. A casserole. Something they’ve eaten countless times at the Dreemurr’s kitchen table. There’d be buttered bread to go with it.
“Is that you, my child?” Toriel calls from the kitchen. “I was just about to call you. Dinner’s almost一oh!” She pokes her head out into the living room, taking in Susie’s presence. “And who is this young lady?”
From the way Susie shifts next to them awkwardly, Kris assumes she’s never been referred to as a young lady before.
“Susie,” Kris introduces.
She clears her throat. “Um, sorry to come unannounced, ma’am…they said it’d be okay if I came for dinner.”
Toriel smiles, kindness emanating from it, and tucks her oven mitts into the front of her apron. “Of course, it is okay. You are more than welcome at our table, Susie. And, please, call me Toriel.”
“Thank you, ma一Toriel,” Susie says, blushing.
“Also, Kris, don’t forget there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Toriel resumes pittering around the kitchen, wiping the counter. “If our guest needs it.”
Susie covers the cut on her cheek, embarrassed. She shoots a look of bewilderment at Kris, who only grabs the girl by the wrist and leads her toward the bathroom.
Once the door shuts behind them, Kris says, “She was trying not to embarrass you.”
“‘S fine,” Susie mutters, crossing her arms. She leans against the counter and avoids eye contact. “Just show me where it is.”
They open the cabinet door near her feet, sliding the first kit out. They set it by the sink, unlatching it to inspect the contents. Inside, there’s some peroxide, ointment, and Band-Aids. Everything they’d need.
Kris busies themselves with turning the warm water on, putting soap on a cloth, and wetting it. Susie watches all of this in silence, seemingly in a daze. By the time they begin raising the cloth to her cheek, she flinches back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says, grasping Kris’s arm to stop them. “What’re you doing?”
They remain neutral as ever. “Cleaning your cut.”
“I can do it myself.” She tries to steal the cloth from them, but they pull away. “C’mon, dude, I don’t need you babying me.”
“I’m not.” They meet her narrowed gaze unflinchingly, pouring all their sincerity into the words. “Susie. I’m not.”
She exhales. Releases her grip on Kris. Slumps against the counter. “Fine, then. Have it your way.”
They reach for her face in what feels like slow motion, the bustling sounds of their mom in the kitchen fading to nothing, the leaky faucet going suddenly quiet. There’s that strange sensation again: the world shrinking to fit Susie, only Susie, and oh. Kris hadn’t expected her face to feel this smooth and heated, like silk come out of the dryer.
They shift closer, fitting themselves almost between her knees, and tilt her head down. She allows all of it, going pliant. When the warm cloth begins to work up the old blood, her eyes flutter shut. Kris takes it as a sort of victory; they can’t place why.
It’s so very quiet. Susie’s soft breaths puff between them, evening out and growing deeper as Kris continues to hold her face and drag the cloth across it. Their thumb swipes down her jaw just as a clump of blood comes loose, and she inhales sharply.
“Hurts?” they ask.
“No.” It’s all she says. Her eyes stay shut.
At some point, Susie’s hand finds its way to the back of Kris’s sweater. She bunches up the fabric, holding it tightly as if to ground herself. They assume it really does hurt, and she’s just putting on a brave face. But the gesture sends their gut squirming all the same.
“All done.” Kris tosses the cloth into the sink to rinse out later. “This next part might sting a bit more, at first.” They pour a few drops of peroxide onto a cotton pad.
“Can’t hurt any worse than when it happened.”
It aches to hear her say that. Why does it ache? Just last week, this girl had been shoving them into lockers and stealing their lunch just for fun. No, not for fun, for survival. They’re starting to get it now.
Kris dabs the cut with the cotton pad, and Susie hisses. Her claws dig into their back, but they find they don’t really mind. It doesn’t hurt, so they say nothing about it. After a few seconds, she relaxes again, her eyes unscrewing. Opening back up.
“Not too bad,” she says.
Kris hums. “‘Kay. Ointment, then Band-Aid, then done.”
She nods, releasing their sweater to let them reach for the last few supplies. They try not to miss the touch too much, try not to think about how strange it is that they would miss it to begin with.
This time, when Kris uses their index finger to gently apply ointment in tiny circles over her cheekbone, Susie’s eyes don’t fall shut. They remain fixed on Kris. This close, they can see just how bright and golden and intense her gaze is, like twin suns. She studies them right back, searching for something.
“Why d’ya hide your eyes like that?” she asks.
Kris’s hair is a shield. It takes away the pressure of making their eyes portray the right emotions, takes away any chance of people misinterpreting a facial expression, or lack thereof. They can focus on their voice一shaping it into their true meaning, cultivating their limited speech into exactly what they want it to convey.
The short version, though, is this: “Feels safe.” They’ve been spreading the ointment for far too long, but they don’t want to break this moment.
Susie tilts her head, considering. “Kinda wanna see what you look like under there.” But then, regret immediately floods her. “I mean一I mean, no, obviously you don’t have to, you feel more comfortable with your hair like that, so I don’t一you don’t, uh一”
Kris uses both of their hands to pull their hair back, tucking it behind their ears. They can see her more clearly, this way一can soak in the whole of her. She has longer eyelashes than they’d originally thought. Her scales are a lighter purple.
Susie swallows. “You…” Why does her voice sound like that? “You look different than I thought.” Her hand is back on them, twisted in their sweater. Kris isn’t sure when that happened.
“Oh,” they say, dumbly.
“Not一not in a bad way!” she rushes to correct. “Just…I haven’t seen many humans before. And none of them were一” She cuts herself off, cheeks flushing. “None of them looked like you.”
They can’t resist. They’re far too curious. So, they dare to ask, “Like what?”
She fixates on a spot near Kris’s eye where they know a mole is. Her claws keep clenching and unclenching against them, and it tickles. Goosebumps rise on the back of their neck.
Susie pushes Kris’s face away in a rush. “Just forget it,” she mumbles, cutting through the tension. “You can put the Band-Aid on now.”
Kris does. When they finally tumble out of that bathroom, gulping in fresh air, it feels like they’ve left something sacred behind. Something that will likely remain unspoken between them.
***
Dinner is pleasant. As pleasant as it can be with how Susie shovels her food, forgetting to chew and swallowing it all in whole bites. It’s like she thinks someone will take it from her; Kris doesn’t know how to reassure her that’s not going to happen.
Toriel, in her own way, makes it clear. “There’s plenty to go around, my child. Enough for seconds, thirds, even fourths.”
Susie’s eyes nearly sparkle. “Fank yew,” she mumbles, through bites. “‘S real good.”
Kris has to hide their grin behind a napkin.
“So, Susie,” Toriel says after a while, when Susie’s begun to slow down. “How did Kris make friends with you?”
“Oh, um, I’m not sure, really,” Susie says, awkwardly. She fiddles with her fork, probably deciding whether or not to tell the truth. They’d been less than friendly before today, after all. “They just kinda…roped me in, somehow. Didn’t have to do much.” She glances at them from the corner of her eye, nervous. Her teeth catch on her bottom lip.
“They have that sort of charm about them, don’t they?” Toriel muses. She pinches Kris’s cheek fondly, and they try not to squirm away from her.
Susie deliberately does not look at Kris. “I一I guess so.”
Kris, to their credit, does not flee the scene. They do, however, flush a rosy pink up to their ears. They’re grateful Susie is avoiding eye contact so she won’t be able to see it.
“I’m full,” they announce. “Wanna go to my room?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Susie stares mournfully at the casserole pan, rubbing her full belly. “Man, I’m stuffed, too. Thank you again, Toriel.”
“You are welcome for dinner any time, Susie.”
Kris quickly collects their dishes and Susie’s, rinsing them in the sink. Without checking if the girl is following, they hurry upstairs to their bedroom and plop onto their bed.
“Cool,” is the first thing out of Susie’s mouth, shutting the door behind her. “These are all your trophies?”
Kris shakes their head. “My brother’s.”
That makes her frown. She considers their empty side of the room, a thoughtful hand on her chin. Then, she rushes up to the nearest shining star, knocks it off the wall, and places it on the shelf above Kris’s bed.
“There,” she says, nodding. “That’s better.”
The gesture touches them so deeply they can almost feel her hands rummaging through their chest to wrap around their pounding heart. They have no clue what to say, so they just stare at the star, blinking at it, until the bed dips with a new weight.
“It’s nice in here, but you should totally decorate your side more.”
“Maybe.” Kris’s fingers fumble in their lap, unsure. They’ve never really felt like they deserved a permanent place in this house, like their role wasn’t important enough to memorialize with things like decorations. They were the outlier, after all. The human. The mistake.
“Didn’t know you had a brother. What’s his name?”
“Asriel,” Kris whispers, like it’s painful to say. And maybe it is.
“Where is he?”
“College.”
“Oh, sick. Does he come back for holidays?”
“Sometimes.”
Susie falls silent. Kris is still gaping up at that star.
“Seems like you miss him.”
Their attention, at last, snaps to her. She watches them, expression open and curious. They bring their legs up, crossing them beneath themselves, and sigh. “Yeah.”
The thing about living with someone like Asriel is this: When you’re with him, you feel like the center of the universe. Without him, you’re reminded of all the reasons why it’s him一with his gleaming trophies and repertoire of accomplishments and perfect grades and endlessly charming smiles一the world revolves around. Who your parents are more proud of. Who is the real descendant of the Dreemurrs. Who you’re forever failing to measure up to.
The thing about Asriel is that you miss him, but maybe you miss feeling like enough even more.
But have you ever? Have you ever once in your sorry life felt like enough? For yourself, or for anyone?
“You okay?” Susie asks, dragging them from their thoughts.
“Why did you follow me?” They hadn’t realized they were going to ask the question until it tumbled from their mouth.
She shifts, scooting back on the bed and leaning on her hands. “Whaddya mean?”
“In the woods. You told me it was your spot, so I left. But you followed.”
“Oh.” She sucks in a lungful of air, expels it gradually. “Huh. Good question.”
Kris waits. Gives her time. Dishes clatter downstairs. An electric mixer whirs. Their mother is making pie.
“I guess…” Susie says, eventually. “Guess it’s ‘cause you didn’t seem afraid.”
They turn to her, fixated on the way her mouth shapes individual letters.
She’s spurred on by their attention. “Everyone is afraid of me. Kids, teachers, random people on the street一they take one look at me, and decide who I am. Decide I’m dangerous. But you’ve never looked at me that way. Not even when I had my jaws around your head.”
Kris suppresses a shiver at the memory. No, they hadn’t really been afraid, then.
Susie falls back, the mattress bouncing to accommodate her weight. Her hands rest over her stomach. “I think I was mad that I couldn’t figure you out. Or, I guess一ugh.” She digs her fists into her eyes, huffing. “There’s so much of my life I can’t control. But people, with their stupid assumptions, are easy. If they’re afraid of me, I can make them do whatever I want.”
Kris gets it. They really, really do. “So, you play into it.”
She tilts her head toward Kris, the thick mess of her hair getting mussed up by the mattress. “Play the role they gave me.”
They collapse beside her, mirroring her position. Their shoulders brush, just barely. “It’s unfair. What they think about you.”
“It’s unfair what they think about you, too,” Susie says. “You’re not your brother. It’s not bad that you’re nothing like him.”
How…how did she know to say that? Kris’s lips part, a soft and surprised sound escaping. They take in this girl, this enigma lying on their bed, and witness a flower blooming in their ribcage. Taking root.
The flower is purple.
“Stay over,” Kris says, fully aware that it’s a risk. They don’t want to sound too desperate, but it might be too late for that.
“Stay?” She tosses her arms behind her head, stretching like a cat. “Here?”
“Yeah. You can sleep in Asriel’s bed. My mom wouldn’t care. She’d drive you to school tomorrow. You can have breakfast with us.” It all comes out in a rush, and they realize they haven’t said that many sentences in a row to someone in, like, forever.
Susie seems shocked, too. But once she recovers, it’s with a huge, beaming grin. She laughs, and the sound dances around the room. “Alright, if you’re so eager. Sure.”
“Cool.” Kris tucks their smile into the collar of their sweater.
“Cool.” Susie does not hide hers.
***
Kris rummages through Asriel’s drawers for something that might fit Susie. She claims she can just sleep in the clothes she has now, but they insist she needs something more comfortable. Clean, too.
“Does this work?” they ask, showing her one of Asriel’s big band tees and some sweatpants.
“Probably. Lemme try it on.” She takes the clothing from them, sets it on the bed next to her, then immediately starts to tear her shirt off.
Kris has never whirled around so fast in their life, hiding behind their hands. Susie just laughs at them.
“Dude, I don’t care. I change in front of people all the time before gym class.”
Their back remains to her, but she doesn’t comment further.
“‘Kay. It fits fine. Smells like cinnamon.”
Kris turns, eyes roving over her. They’ve never seen her bare legs before, except for through the ripped patches on her jeans. Her calves are very…toned. So are her arms, which aren’t hidden beneath her jacket anymore.
Really toned. The sleeves of Asriel’s T-shirt strain around her biceps.
Stop looking, stop looking, stop looking一
“It might be pie,” Kris blurts, artfully. “Downstairs. I think my mom’s making pie.”
“Really? Oh, hell yeah!” she cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Can we have some tonight?”
“I’d imagine.” They sound dazed. They need a distraction. “Wanna watch something until then?”
“Like what?”
They shrug, then putter over to the nightstand, where they keep their laptop. “Anything you want.”
Susie scoots back until she’s leaning against the wall, grabbing a pillow to place behind her. Kris joins her on the bed, settling in. They can feel Susie’s heat as she leans in to see the screen.
“You pick,” she says.
Kris ends up choosing a video uploaded by their favorite streamer. Something mindless and low stakes, but entertaining enough to hold Susie’s attention. She laughs whenever the streamer’s character dies, and they start hounding him together, even though he could never hear them through the screen. But it’s fun. Everything about today has been fun.
And this is just today, Kris thinks. How many days like this have we missed out on?
Toriel calls them down for pie a while later, and a thrill goes through Kris. They kind of wish they could have the whole thing to themselves, but there’s a different sort of pleasure that comes with sharing it. That first bite of cinnamon-butterscotch has Susie melting, her eyes screwing shut in satisfaction.
“God,” she moans. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Kris bites their tongue to tamp down the swarm of butterflies in their stomach.
“I’m pleased you like it,” Toriel chirps. “Will you be staying overnight, my child?”
“Yes,” Kris answers for her.
She clasps her hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll make pancakes in the morning, then.”
Susie honestly looks close to tears. She stutters out a thank you, then a garbled goodnight when Toriel excuses herself to bed.
“I feel spoiled rotten,” she says, once they’re alone. She picks at her pie as if she’s just decided she no longer deserves it.
Kris doesn’t know how to tell her that it’s really nothing. This is what it should always be like for her. Eventually, they decide on, “She means it when she says you can come anytime. She’s not just being nice.”
“And what about you?” Susie keeps dissecting the pie filling from the crust. “Are you just being nice? ‘Cause you一you feel sorry for me, or something?”
“No.” It’s automatic. Void of hesitance.
She dissects Kris’s response more precisely than she does the pie. Whatever she finds in it seems to satisfy her, because she resumes eating. Kris follows suit.
The silence between them is content. It wraps around the pair like a hug, trailing them to the bathroom where Kris manages to find a spare toothbrush for her, continuing as they brush their teeth side by side. Susie’s toothbrush seems comically small for her massive jaws, and it takes her forever to get through each and every sharp tooth. They finish before her, watching her meticulously scrub every nook and cranny. They guess she’s probably being more thorough because she has an audience, and they suppress a fit of laughter behind their palm.
Susie spits, glaring at them in the mirror. Foam coats her lips as she says, “Something funny, dumbass?”
Kris shakes their head even as more giggles spill out. She rinses her mouth out in record time, then flicks the leftover water at them. They make a noise that is an odd hybrid of a wheeze and a squeak, ducking behind a towel for cover. But it doesn’t stop her. She smears her still-wet hands down their face and sleep shirt, cackling rather menacingly.
Kris grabs both her forearms in an attempt to stop her, but they end up in a headlock, Susie’s muscles flexing against their cheek. Squeezing. Their heart tries its best to break out of their ribcage and launch itself into space.
She must think she’s hurting them, or possibly restricting airflow, because she suddenly tears away. Eyes wild and frantic. “Oh my God, I’m sorry.”
They shake their head, gasping in air. But it’s not because she’d been choking them. It wasn’t like that at all.
“Are you一” Her hands flit in front of them, scared to touch. “You okay?”
“Fine. You didn’t hurt me,” they manage, once proper oxygen is reinstated.
“Oh, okay. You made a sound like you might’ve been dying, so.” She laughs awkwardly, scratching through her thick hair. “Sorry. I’m not too good at this yet.”
“Being gentle?” they ask, half-teasing.
Susie’s gaze drops to the tile. “Having a friend.”
Kris’s mouth forms a small O, their chest tightening. They take a step forward, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder. They have to reach so far up to do it.
Her gaze snaps to them, astonished. But she doesn’t flinch this time.
“Been a while for me, too,” they say, soft. So soft. “I think you’re doing fine.”
Her eyes glisten. If Kris checked outside the window, the moon would probably shine just the same. She nods. “You, too.”
They head to bed after that. Susie hovers before Asriel’s bed, staring at it as if it’s a foreign object. Or maybe like she doesn’t quite belong in it.
“Something wrong?” Kris is already tucked into their own bed, peeking at her in the orange glow of their bedside lamp.
“Um…no?” She has never sounded less confident.
They click their tongue. “Spill.”
She sighs, wandering back over to Kris’s bed. She plops down on the edge of it. “It just一feels weird. Your brother seems like kind of a sore spot for you, and now I’m wearing his clothes and supposed to be sleeping in his bed, and…I dunno, man. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“He’s at college, not dead, Susie,” Kris says, blunt as ever.
She splutters. “I know that, dumbass!” She wilts a bit, glancing at Kris from over her shoulder. “But I feel like一I feel like he wouldn’t like your bully using all his stuff like this.”
Ah. They contemplate that for a moment. Propping themselves up on their elbows, they say, “When I go to school tomorrow, will I get bullied?”
Her eyebrows contort. “Um, no? Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Then my bully is gone.”
She blinks at them, and something like gratitude crumples her features. She turns around and falls forward, her mane of hair sprawling into Kris’s lap. They freeze, not knowing what to do, afraid if they move at all, they’ll spook her away. And they want her to stay here for as long as she’ll allow.
“You’re way too forgiving, man,” Susie mumbles into the quilt.
“It isn’t difficult. You’ve never scared me.” They risk resting a hand atop her head, and God, her hair is soft. Full of knots, but soft. It’s far too easy to get lost in running their fingers through it, especially when Susie doesn’t pull away. In fact, she goes boneless. So, they work out the knots with great care, nails scratching over her scalp, her smoky-spiced scent drifting all around them.
Susie’s breathing evens out. She shifts, head turning sideways so Kris gets a better view of her face, and her eyes are shut. They dart beneath her eyelids, indicating sleep.
The whole thing should be weird. Kris shouldn’t want someone they’ve just gotten to know that very day so close. They shouldn’t be proud that they were able to help her drift off so easily, nor should they hope she’ll come back to sleep here again and again.
But it’s not weird at all. None of it is. Nothing has ever felt more right.