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It was already too late.
The moon cut through the curtains in Kris’s room, giving uncomfortable comfort to their apparent loneliness—like a useless remedy for their pain. Everything was quiet.
Quiet like never before, no, like every midnight, as if it were just another tense instance among so many in which they could only think and regret.
Kris, unlike what many believed, hated being alone. Sometimes it was necessary—they couldn’t stay away from everyone forever—but they also needed some external distraction that wouldn’t remind them of a crucial piece of their life they found hard, painful, irritating to admit.
They were annoyed—lately far more often than usual. It was a mix of contradictory feelings: not wanting to talk but knowing they should, having weak fists, ironically, despite being strong. There was so much strength behind all their uselessness, their immense silence, and their immoral actions.
They shouldn’t be awake. They knew that, just as they knew too many things. They ignored it.
The cool breeze entering the room to change the air felt like a cruel way for fate to show them their loneliness—their figurative nakedness that no one could reach without being affected by it.
Maybe Noelle would understand if only they could tell her, get close enough to talk to her, confess their inner demons and release fears until the darkness lightened. Noelle would understand—she had always been too kind and gentle, helping even when no one had called her. Trying to push her way into Kris’s soul, into the very darkness Kris didn’t want to show anyone in order not to hurt them.
What she didn’t understand was that Kris didn’t want her help, or her pity, or to coexist with Noelle in the same darkness when Kris themselves would be too much for her. There was something intimate, personal, even comfortable about being the only one suffering their pain. It was like a hug from a bed full of thorns, warm with blood, with a marked place for you—your own place.
It was selfish. They knew it.
It was horrible, and that was okay—there weren’t many beautiful things to highlight in all the shit they’d been dealing with for who knows how many years.
Their thoughts were briefly interrupted by a small tapping sound against the window.
It happened so fast that, had they not been hyperalert, they wouldn’t have caught it—and even though they clearly did, they weren’t sure if it was just their mind altering sounds from exhaustion. They should sleep; it was too late. Their phone read three in the morning, yet they didn’t feel even the slightest pull of sleep weighing down their eyelids.
Again, a tap—stronger this time.
Irritated, Kris stood up to see what was hitting their window, only to find a pair of golden eyes staring directly at them like a deer caught in headlights.
Susie grinned, baring her teeth as soon as she distinguished the human silhouette peeking out the window.
She gestured toward her phone and proceeded to type, which Kris understood, so they returned to their room to grab their own phone. It didn’t take long before it buzzed with a new message.
“Sleepover? :^)”
Kris couldn’t help but smile at the emoticon, though they also couldn’t stop their eyes from rolling. They felt like a bad person for wishing Susie wasn’t there, but at the same time they were grateful for her presence. They knew that if she hadn’t come, they would already be drowning again in endless thoughts, choking on guilt, tracing the figurative and literal scars on their body.
They only replied with a thumbs-up emoji, then peeked out again to signal her to wait. She nodded from below, not really knowing if Kris could even see her in the hazy darkness interrupted only by the moonlight’s faint glow.
When the door opened, they were both shy, quiet. Susie seemed more inhibited than when she arrived—small in her place, strangely vulnerable. Kris had the feeling they weren’t the only one trying to escape their own head that night filled with cool breeze.
“Sorry for coming at this hour. I needed to get out of my house, get some fresh air,” she explained into the silence, probably mistaking it for judgment.
The human simply shrugged.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping.” They let her into the living room, welcoming her to the warmth of their home. “We can go to my room, watch movies. If you’re hungry, I can give you the leftovers from dinner.”
In any other circumstance, they knew offering leftovers was bad manners, but it was Susie—they already knew she loved leftovers and anything related to food in all its forms.
She nodded sleepily, hugging her own arms against the change in temperature.
“Sweet. What was for dinner tonight?”
“Chicken with rice and broccoli salad.”
“Sounds great.”
As the short exchange faded, Kris began preparing Susie’s “dinner.” They weren’t even sure if she had already eaten—unsure if she had even reached her house before turning around and walking all the way there. Truly, they knew so little about her—less than they liked to think most of the time.
A dagger of guilt pierced their chest—the kind of thought they’d usually have in the darkness, in bed, in loneliness, instead of right there.
They watched her eat. There was something captivating about the way she shredded the chicken calmly and entirely with her teeth, clearly designed to be a predator, though the drowsy tenderness with which she did it—nodding off for moments—gave the act an adorable charm.
Soon, Kris realized it wasn’t exactly normal to analyze someone’s eating habits, so they shifted their attention to another topic that wasn’t Susie’s sharp reptilian fangs.
“Why’d you come back?” they asked. Neither of them could really interpret what tone Kris had intended—coming out unintentionally insensitive.
She swallowed, seeming to ponder her answer for a moment—or maybe invent a convincing excuse. Either way, it was ultimately a useless question; Kris didn’t really have any right to know, and yet they remained attentive to whatever her response would be.
“I just needed to not be home, like I said. Nothing bad, nothing serious, I’m just not in the mood to deal with shit today.”
Kris nodded and gave her space to keep eating.
The silence between them was occasionally broken by the gentle chirping of crickets outside or by the wind provoking the treetops to sway.
“It’s too late” Kris repeats in their mind, and yet they don’t feel capable of reproaching Susie. They couldn’t, after all. They felt strangely indebted to her.
“You were planning to go to sleep, right? Sorry if I messed up your plans a bit” she laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“I thought about it, but I don’t think I can. Too many thoughts” they admitted.
The reptile girl watched them with curiosity.
“You too…? Wow, honestly it never crossed my mind that someone as flat as you could overthink.”
The human smiled.
“I didn’t think someone as dim as you could think at all.”
Their joke earned them a shove from the reptile, although her smile was reward enough.
“Oh, shut up, idiot.” She looked back into Kris’s eyes, a hint of seriousness settling into her features. “I can’t stop thinking about… about the future. I know it’s dumb, but these past few days, every time I go back to my room, I can’t help wondering what’s happening in the castle town—in Ralsei’s place, with Lancer, with our other friends… Sometimes I even catch myself thinking about you.”
Her confession lingered in the air. Kris couldn’t find any words that felt useful to add. She shifted her gaze toward the window, playing with the edge of her jacket.
“About… our friendship. I used to hate you, I don’t think I need to admit that, but now I just want to protect…”
The ideal word anchored itself on her tongue. Protect you, she wanted to say, though she wasn’t sure she’d be able to look Kris in the eyes afterward. She was a little scared—ever since the adventure with Gerson, she’d become much more aware of how powerful words could be depending on the situation, and she feared saying something so personal it would give the human room to hurt her.
She shouldn’t think like that. She knew Kris. She promised herself that.
Yet it was so hard for her.
Could Kris see her hands trembling, her nervous tongue running along her golden teeth, her anxious eyes?
Would Kris even want to know everything Susie held in her heart, or would they turn that vulnerability into a weapon the moment she revealed it?
Or worse—would they not want to see it at all, not want to touch her heart ever again with everything that characterized them?
She looked at the human wide-eyed, a blush crossing her face.
A gentle palm extended toward her hand, resting atop it. They didn’t even squeeze, their fingers didn’t intertwine—it was just there, as if asking for permission, for an invitation.
“Sometimes I think about those things too” the human murmured.
Kris felt their head spin. They were confused, afraid, and the only thought running through their mind in that moment was Noelle.
She would be upset. Noelle was never territorial about her things, but when it came to Susie she was capable of more than Kris could ever imagine.
Kris knew, Kris cared. But they also cared so much about Susie—they loved the way her golden eyes lit up under the moonlight, how they seemed to shine only for them. They felt a vulnerability swelling in their chest and a strange instinct, the desire to be the only person who could ever witness Susie’s comforting silence, her soft smile, her shy blush. The feeling of her scales tensing under their human, warm, living touch, the leather heating up against her cold blood.
They liked Susie.
They probably shouldn’t go any further; they were getting closer and closer to holding fire with their bare hands, ready to finally have her face, her eyes, entirely to themselves.
They felt so selfish, so frustrated with themselves for not having a little more consideration for Noelle—one of their best friends in their whole life. She was in love, deeply in love. Kris knew that.
Noelle had always been sweet, good, kind; she never asked for more than what she could give, always offering, always helping everyone have a story that looked ideally easy.
Kris was a bad person, brushing one hand against hell while using the same one to caress those purple scales. They accepted the guilt, though they weren’t ready to dive into the blood of Noelle’s broken heart until Susie, clueless and unintentionally, became the first one to do it.
“Kris…” she sighed. A shiver ran down Kris’s spine, their skin prickling. The tension between them rose.
The reptile’s hand seemed to react, and without meaning to, she held Kris’s hand. Their fingers weren’t intertwined, but they didn’t give the wind any space to slip between them, either.
“Can I… try something without it being weird?”
Kris swallowed hard. The constellations in Susie’s eyes began to bubble with an obvious idea. At the same time, Kris’s skin burned the farther they stayed apart.
Before they even realized it, a breath straight against Kris’s lips made them close their eyes, ready to accept the guilt. This was so wrong—they were about to feel hell firsthand, about to let themselves burn alive—and the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that they were going to enjoy it.
This was wrong, but the simple fact that it was Susie made it feel like a small taste of heaven, a quick pull upward. Maybe the price of heaven was giving up one’s belongings, finally accepting they had no real place up there.
Not while Susie was here, on this earth, between their hands, threading herself into their nerves.
When she finally pressed their mouths together, it was so simple, childish, careful. It was terrifying, torturous, but warm.
So warm. And soft.
They felt inexperienced—suddenly hot, suddenly frozen by the weight of something they couldn’t quite identify, not sure if it was of something more, or something less.
The awkward moment of pulling away was the hardest part. Susie didn’t know whether to apologize or thank them—she didn’t know if Kris would let her return to the affection of their mouth, if it was her place or just a place she had been lent.
Kris, on the other hand, went blank. Their only answer was to get closer, hold the reptilian hand firmly, and nestle their head into the space between Susie’s neck and shoulder.
The silence was heavy—not in a bad way, but in the way one feels when they don’t want to stop reliving the emotion swelling in their chest after a good moment.
“That… that was…” She couldn’t quite find the feeling.
“Expected” Kris finished.
“Well, that’s, uh, one way of looking at it…”
The strange embrace simply became their faces resting on each other’s shoulders, both a little scared to take the first step.
“It’s a good thing” the human said.
“Huh?”
“I expected it… I mean. I wanted it.”
Kris probably would never know, never feel it, but Susie’s smile held more affection and joy than she had ever allowed herself to show.
The silence was so immense that a new rhythm joined the chirping crickets and the branches snapping outside—their hearts pounding with doubt, with nerves.
“I wanted it too” she murmured, subtly catching the faint apple scent scattered across the human’s hair and skin. “Who would’ve thought a loser could kiss that well.”
Kris smiled, breaking the closeness. They made eye contact again, both pairs of eyes tired and shining under the moonlight, offering each other a majestic view.
If it were up to them, they would’ve spent the whole night kissing—discovering more of that shared pleasure—but the night was already dangerously close to becoming dawn, and neither wanted to sleep one hour just to be woken up by Toriel, who surely believed her child was peacefully asleep by now.
They climbed the stairs between giggles and playful shoves, their jokes and flirting bouncing back and forth like two idiots in love discovering their first crush. Maybe that was exactly what it was. They liked each other. A lot. It was hard to tell whether they cared for each other as very close friends or as something more; it was difficult to label something they weren’t ready to explore yet.
Still, they were together—and happy to try.
Their shoulders touched once they were both lying on the bed. The soft, cool mattress contrasted with the firmness of their bodies and the warm heat radiating from Kris’ mammalian skin. Sleep began taking over their eyelids, though neither wanted to stop looking at the other.
Their gazes connected; their smiles were invisible in the darkness but still lingered on their lips.
“I love you. I’m a little scared” Susie whispered, her voice so tender it felt like she feared losing Kris the moment she opened her eyes far more than waking up in her own room.
“I love you too, dork” Kris exhaled a laugh, something closer to a nasal breath. “Don’t be scared. Unlike you, I don’t have any teeth sharp enough to rip someone’s face off, nor ever threatened you before about doing it.”
Susie’s calm expression immediately shifted to irritation—dry, ironic irritation.
“Hey! I already apologized for that! Unbelievable—there’s a girl in your bed and the first thing you do is bring up the times she used to bully you…”
“Mmh. And what would your first idea be if I were in your bed?”
Her face flushed, suddenly humiliated and shy. She knew exactly what that little devil was trying to do.
“Probably ask how you got in, because there is NO way I’d let you in willingly.”
“I broke a window.”
“I wouldn’t even be surprised, you damn agent of chaos” she snorted, trying not to make noise. “Let’s keep the chaos inside the Dreemurr-cave, okay?”
Kris didn’t answer—just leaned closer again until they felt Susie’s deep breathing brushing directly against their mouth.
She couldn’t help growing anxious.
“It’s really late,” the human said.
“It is. We should sleep.”
“You’re in my bed and your first idea is sleeping?” Their own pillow hit them in the head. They couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“ENOUGH. I’ve had enough of your rotting brain cells for today; unlike you, I do want to rest.” She muttered while placing the pillow back behind both of their heads.
“Don’t you want a goodnight kiss?”
“GOOD. NIGHT.” That was the last thing Susie said before turning her back to them.
The truth was, Kris didn’t mind the view. It wasn’t that they didn’t like Susie’s face—they liked it far too much, actually—it was simply the first time they saw her from that angle.
Lying down, her hair messy from all their playful roughhousing, the way her body rose and fell almost imperceptibly with each breath, as if sleeping together were something normal, casual.
They tried to ignore the sound of the box shifting under Asriel’s bed—the one filled with human soul—but Kris was far too submerged in drifting thoughts.
They still had no idea what they were going to tell their mother, or how they were going to face what happened every time they looked Noelle in the eyes—every time Noelle approached Susie to make advances. How could Susie not notice? Or maybe… it just didn’t matter as much to her as it did to Kris.
They didn’t want the night to end, but they also doubted they could survive a life of only seeing Susie’s back while she slept. If that were the case, they would miss her eyes forever, her smile, her strong claws, her voice.
The guilt ached again in the pit of their stomach. One part telling them they didn’t deserve any of this—that they were cruel, selfish, a bad person betraying Noelle—while another part burned with the need to touch Susie’s scales, glowing faintly with the starlight and moonlight that had followed them all night.
They shouldn’t. They wouldn’t. So they simply allowed themselves to watch.
Watch the rise and fall of Susie’s body as she slept.
Watch her hair react to the soft breeze.
Watch her shift positions throughout the night.
Just… watch.
And the more they watched, the less sure they were whether they were in heaven or hell. It was too good—everything was too good. Was this the sun after the rain, or the calm before the storm?
Kris wanted to savor the moment—they really tried—but once again, they realized it was too late.
The sun had already begun to peek through the window, and their entire night had slipped away thinking about what they would do if they only had a little more time.