Chapter Text
Kris is roused by the glittering golden rays peeking through their bedroom window. A cold breeze flutters through the curtains, tickling their skin and rustling the loose stationery scattered across their work desk. One of their pens rolls across the surface, falling to the ground with a soft click. Kris’s brows furrow at the sound and they tug their blanket over their face, shielding away the sunlight that threatens to wake them.
The door slides open and in walks Catti. She stands in the opening for a long moment, with her eyes settled on Kris’s lumpy form beneath the sheets. When she steps forward, she leans down to retrieve their pen from the floor and sets it back on the table.
“Kris. I’m going to work,” says Catti. She walks to their open window and slides the pane shut, latching the lock. “And stop leaving your window open when you fall asleep. That’s how bugs and strangers get in.”
Kris groans. They lift themself from their cocoon, hair falling around their eyes like spider legs. There’s a tightness grasping at their throat that they can’t shake and they cough into a closed fist to relieve it.
“Sorry,” they murmur. Their voice is as rough as gravel. “Good luck at work.”
Catti nods dismissively.
“Make sure you clean up before you head to the gas station,” she says. “You look like shit.”
She leaves without shutting the door behind her. It’s only the two of them in this small, dingy apartment, and Kris will be gone by the time she returns home. They rise from the bed and stumble into the crowded hallway. A single bathroom sits to the left of their room and Catti’s. Inside, there’s barely enough room to stand in front of the sink without tripping on the lip of the shower door.
Kris brushes their teeth and splashes a handful of cold water over their face. It does nothing to alleviate the drowsiness weighing on their shoulders. When they’re done, they walk to the kitchen and press the power button of the coffee machine.
With a warm travel cup between their palms, Kris exits the apartment.
Castaway is a small town that rests further inland. It sits snug between a deciduous forest and the foot of an impressive mountain, sagging deep into the valley formed between. It isn’t unlike Hometown, being formed primarily by small, tight-knit communities. But it differs with the absence of a warm, welcoming atmosphere.
No one wants to live in Castaway. The town is polluted with dense factory smog that makes breathing unappealing. The weather is always an extreme of some sort, either so hot that the soles of shoes melt on the sidewalk, or so cold that snow barricades the doors. It’s close enough to the larger cities that travelers will keep driving, or head back to the more inviting small-town experience that is Hometown. Most of its inhabitants are those who have nowhere else to go.
Kris arrived seven years ago after they rode a bus leaving Hometown. Whatever otherworldly entity that hitched a ride in their SOUL vanished, leaving them with the consequences of its actions. They didn’t have enough money to travel any further than Castaway, and even if they could, they wouldn’t be able to afford any living spaces in the city, anyway.
They slept beneath the highway for the first couple of days until they grew hungry. With no leftover cash to purchase their own food, they turned to the local food pantry, acquiring enough supplies to last them about a week.
It wasn’t until Kris found a job at the gas station that they obtained a secure living space. And a couple of years later, they ended up running into Catti, who had plans of escape like their own. Living together made the strain of expenses significantly less painful, and it was worth whatever odd, co-dependent relationship the two ended up forming.
Kris arrives at the gas station half an hour before their shift.
Fletcher stands at the front counter. He’s a tall bird monster of some sort resembling a heron, with a long, curved neck and large yellow beak. He’s silver and white in color with a jet-black stripe lining the sides of his head right above his golden eyes. Long feathers protrude from the back of his head, tied together with a band in a way that looks like a ponytail.
When Kris’s entry rings the bell at the front door, Fletcher glances up.
“Welcome in, Kris,” he says. His voice is as oily as usual. “Mind clocking in early? The ice dispenser on the soda machine is jammed again.”
A sigh wells up within Kris’s throat.
“Can I finish my coffee first?” they ask.
Fletcher stares. “You could,” he replies.
Kris musters the strength to pull themself to the break room. Fletcher looks revoltingly pleased with their decision to forego their caffeine intake for the day.
For the next several hours, Kris balances on an old, rickety metal ladder that creaks with every step. They’ve wasted time checking for other problems and accidentally contaminating the chute, but they can’t imagine that Fletcher actually cares whether it’s germ-free or not. The machine probably hasn’t been cleaned in a decade. When Kris finally discovers the faulty motor, they’re sweating like a waterfall.
They’ve never felt so happy to hear ice clink down a plastic chute.
“I’m taking my break,” they murmur to Fletcher as they walk past. They’re wiping their sleeve across their forehead to catch the droplets rolling down their skin.
He hums.
“Don’t take too long,” says Fletcher. “I’ve been having to time everyone ever since Sally told me she needed an extra hour ‘re-moisturizing’. As if a salamander monster could dry out in weather like this!”
Kris shuts the door to the break room behind them. There are old, crushed cockroaches beneath their shoes and streaks of mud and dirt. On most days, Kris couldn’t stand the rancid stench for more than ten minutes at a time. Today, however, they can’t be asked to sit inside the local crowded coffee shop.
The gas station is a shit job. They know it. Catti knows it. Hell, even Fletcher knows it. Most employees don’t stay for more than a year or two at a time before transferring to a better business. Kris is probably the longest lasting, apart from Fletcher himself.
They’ve existed in this purgatory of mediocrity long enough for it to become bearable. Kris has accepted making just enough money to make ends meet. Maybe they aren’t happy, but they aren’t dying, either.
They’re content coasting through the rest of their rueful life on the path of least resistance.
Kris pushes past the back door of the station. They lean their back against the cold wall and fumble with their pockets until they grasp a box of cigarettes. They pinch their lips around the stick, sheltering the other end with one palm until their zippo lights it aflame. Kris sucks in the sweet, foul smoke, and watches the wind carry it away when they exhale.
When they turn on their phone, Kris is met with a whopping total of two notifications. One is from Catti. She texted them around an hour ago to let them know that she’ll be back at the apartment late tonight.
The other is a new post notification from holidaygirl1225 on Pinstagram.
Kris taps the notification shamefully. It brings them directly to Noelle’s page. They made a burner account to follow her a few years ago, to keep tabs on both her and Susie. From what they could gather through her captions and photos, the two of them started dating not long after they left. Noelle was accepted into a luxurious upper-class college, and Susie attended a trade school close by.
The two of them seemed happy, all things considered. Healthy, at the very least.
Noelle’s new post is a photo of the sun setting over Hometown’s lake. The golden glow creates a halo of light over the water’s surface, blending into the reflection of cool, blue clouds. At the bottom of the picture, Kris can see the familiar shape of Noelle and Susie’s knees bumping close together.
holidaygirl1225: Do you ever miss someone so much it hurts?
Kris’s heart skips a beat. For a moment, they think Noelle may be talking about them. But with Christmas arriving in several weeks, Kris realizes she must be thinking about the anniversary of Dess’s disappearance.
With another puff of their cigarette, they realize they’re genuinely considering commenting on her post. Best case scenario, they would end up looking like a total creep. Even worse, though, it could prompt her into asking them some intrusive questions they didn’t have the energy to answer.
Kris begins bouncing their knee anxiously without even realizing.
❤︎ Comment on the post.
A bolt of electricity shoots down Kris’s chest. Their cigarette falls to the floor, and they clutch at their shirt, twisting the fabric into a fist. It’s a familiar agonizing pain that spreads all the way through their arms and into the tips of their fingers. Kris grinds their teeth together.
No way, they think. This can’t be happening.
A cold chill passes through their very SOUL. Kris’s arms become rigid, their posture straightening as they glance back down to the phone in their hands.
kdog0123: who are u missing?
Their thumb taps the ‘send’ button before they can fight back.
Kris swallows. A numb panic sends shivers down their spine. It’s been seven years since the passenger hitching a ride in their SOUL vanished. Why on earth would it return now?
Their hand itches to bury itself in their chest. They’ve pulled their bottom lip between their teeth.
holidaygirl1225: too many ppl :’) wbu? anyone u miss?
Noelle’s message appears beneath their comment. Despite their current horror, Kris can’t help but feel their heart do a flip at the sight of it. Regardless of the spark of joy it brings them, they can’t let the conversation go any further. Doing so would only put everyone they left behind in danger.
❤︎ Reply.
kdog0123: yea. too many 2 count
A knock echoes against the door behind them. Fletcher shoves it ajar and sticks his beak through the opening.
“Break time’s up!” he demands. His voice makes Kris flinch. “You’ve smoked long enough. Time to get back to work.”
Kris’s skin is cold and clammy. They return their phone to their pocket and rub their palms together.
“Fletcher…” says Kris. They gulp. “I-I don’t feel so good. I think I need to head home early.”
Fletcher lifts one brow. He glances at Kris, his eyes running up and down, before crossing his wings.
“Fine,” he says. “You’re lucky I called Paula in earlier. But this is your last sick day for the rest of the year. I don’t want to be hearing about any other sudden illnesses, or we’re going to have a real long talk about your position here.”
Walking home is a journey in itself. Luckily, Kris still feels in complete control of most of their motor skills. They’ve surmised that the SOUL has limited authority over their autonomy, at least for now. But the fear itself makes them stumble over their own feet, and they’re so anxious that they feel like they’re going to keel over on the side of the road.
When Kris is back in their apartment, they lock their bedroom door behind them and glance over the room.
The birdcage they once locked the SOUL in is long gone, now. Toriel probably tossed it once she realized Kris wasn’t coming home. They don’t have anything like that now.
It’s not like they’ve needed it for anything as of late.
Kris approaches their work desk, sliding one of the drawers open. It was crowded, but it would have to do. Kris digs their hand into their chest. They can feel their SOUL pulsing beneath their fingertips. They draw it out, agonizingly slow, until it bursts out with a loud snap.
They shove the bright red heart to the far corner of the drawer before slamming it shut. The silence in their head is a welcome reprieve, but they can still hear the frantic thumping of their own heartbeat. Kris leans their back against the drawer, pinning it shut, and buries their face in their hands.
Why now? They keep repeating the thought in their head. Tears spring from the corners of their eyes and they wipe them away with the sleeve of their shirt.
After several moments of slowing their breathing to a safe rate, Kris turns back to the drawer. There’s no lock to keep it shut, but they improvise by acquiring a roll of duct tape from the top of their desk and wrapping it around the front. When they’re done covering it with a generous layer, they collapse onto their bed.
They can’t keep it inside of their desk forever. Kris can already feel how hollow its absence makes their chest feel. But they need time to think without its influence. To make some sort of plan to deal with this otherworldly entity.
Kris opens their phone.
When they open Pinstagram, they’re quick to block Noelle’s account. They may as well make it as hard as possible for the SOUL to contact her. No one from Hometown other than Catti knows their new number, but they block Noelle, Susie, and Toriel just in case. It’s doubtful that the entity memorizes their phone numbers at all, but Kris knows very little about what it does remember.
Their Pinstagram account goes straight into the garbage. The thought of deleting all their social media makes them feel miserable, but they’ve needed to stop doomscrolling, anyway. MewTube is safe, at least. That should be enough to entertain them for however long this takes.
Kris has practically cleared out half of their phone by the time Catti comes back home. They can hear her lock the door as she enters the apartment.
They rise from their bed sluggishly, waddling to their bedroom door like a zombie before peeking through. Catti rests her bag on one of the chairs in the kitchen. Her eyeliner is smudged and the creases beneath her eyes are deeper than usual. She’s still wearing her nametag below her collarbone on the left side of her shirt, and Kris can see the colorful little faces of the restaurant mascots beneath her name.
She lifts her eyes and meets Kris’s gaze. “Damn. You look like you had a rough day,” she says monotonously.
“Came home early,” they rasp. “Didn’t feel well.”
“No shit.”
Catti grabs the kettle that’s been drying by the sink and fills it with water. She sets it on top of the stove and turns the knob, lighting the little flame underneath.
“Want some peppermint tea?” asks Catti.
Kris nods.
They sit down across from her at the table and in a few minutes, she presents them with a cup of hot peppermint tea. The smell is sweet and fragrant, and it fills them with nostalgia for the family kitchen they had back in Hometown. Kris leans over to grab the honey and squirts an absurd amount into the bottom of their mug. The sight makes Catti cringe.
She leans back, taking a long sip from her own cup. The steam rises in front of her face.
Kris breaks the silence. “Fletcher isn’t happy,” they say. “He threatened to fire me if I take another sick day.”
Catti hums. “That’s not surprising,” she says. “He is a jackass. Did he actually say he’d fire you?”
“No. Implied it, though.”
“I doubt he’d go through with it,” says Catti. “Men like him just want to give their employees a hard time. If he ever does fire you, I’d put in a good word for you at Velvet’s.”
Catti has been working at a small business known as Velvet’s Café for the past few years. Her experience at QC’s helped her snag the position, and her work ethic made her well-respected among her peers. Though Catti isn’t a very cheerful person, she’s more than capable of making hard decisions and standing her ground.
Kris can’t do any of those things.
“Thanks,” they mutter anyway. They drink their tea and it’s so sweet it makes their tongue curl.
She presses her lips together.
“Are you feeling too sick to go to Shannon’s birthday tomorrow?” asks Catti. “I understand if you are. I’d probably stay home if you aren’t going. I’m sure Jockington and I can see each other another time.”
Jockington is the only monster from Hometown that Catti is still in contact with. He plays soccer in one of the bigger cities along the coastline, but visits Castaway frequently to meet up with Catti. They planned on seeing each other at their mutual friend’s birthday gathering at Castaway’s biggest nightclub, Night Owl.
“No,” says Kris quickly. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay.”
Catti raises an eyebrow.
“Just let me know, okay?” she says. “We keep an eye out for each other.”
When they finish up their tea, they set the dirty cup in the sink and return to their room. The duct tape remained in place during their conversation with Catti, thank the Angel.
Kris collapses onto their mattress, face down into their pillow. Their heartbeat is steady, now. The taste of peppermint tea and honey lingers on their tongue.
They turn their head to glance at the duct-taped desk drawer behind them. They must look even crazier than usual.
When their eyes fall shut, they dream about Susie, Noelle, Toriel, and Asriel. They dream about their old life in Hometown and the shenanigans they and Susie would get into after school. They dream about attending class with their friends, watching Alphys write on the blackboard until they fell asleep, and waking up to the bell. They even see images of the last time they were in the Dark World, and the last time they saw Ralsei.
They sleep more peacefully than they expect.
When they wake up the next morning, Kris’s body groans in pain. They clench their chest, staggering to the desk drawer and painstakingly ripping off each piece of duct tape they placed the night before. When they finally retrieve their SOUL and place it back into their chest, they shut their eyes, awaiting that cold, distant feeling they’d feel under its control.
But it never comes.
Kris flexes their hands. They think, for a moment, that maybe their possessor’s return was a part of their dream. Their respite is short-lived, however, when they remove their phone from their pocket.
❤︎ Check messages.
There are none. Kris feels a small victory in the precautions they took.
When they leave their bedroom, Kris is thankful to see that the SOUL doesn’t take much interest in Catti. It prompts them to speak to her once and they mutter a quiet ‘good morning’, but it loses interest fairly quickly. Instead, it guides them back into their bedroom to analyze each and every object in viewing distance.
A few hours pass and Kris can feel the weight in their chest ebb away. They remember this feeling before, when they were in the old Dark Fountains at Hometown. It makes them wonder if the SOUL is sleeping in whatever way it can.
Whatever it’s doing, Kris decides to spend the time they can anxiously preparing for the nightclub they’re going to with Catti later in the evening.
They don’t have many clothes. Kris’s wardrobe is rather plain and full of muddy colors that allow them to blend easily into the crowd. They select a long, black skirt that ends just above their ankles, and a short-sleeved button-up olive shirt. After staring at themself in the mirror for a long moment, they choose to throw on a dark, baggy jacket over their shoulders.
Kris isn’t self-conscious of the old scars littering their arms. But monsters that saw them would often ask them personal questions, and if there’s anything they hate, it’s standing out.
By the time they’re ready, they head to the front room to find Catti standing at the door. She’s wearing a dark grey shirt and black denim overalls. Her makeup is slightly different than usual, Kris notices. Instead of the usual purple eyeshadow she uses, she’s wearing a vivid red that makes her eyes pop.
She’s so pretty it makes Kris blush.
“No one else from Hometown, right?” they ask. This isn’t the first party they’ve gone to with Jockington, but the risk of running into anyone else they knew always puts them on edge.
“No,” says Catti. “You know he wouldn’t rat you out.”
Kris nods. They can feel the weight of their SOUL return to their chest.
“Are you ready to go?” she asks them after a moment.
❤︎ Yes.
Kris takes their seat in the passenger seat. They have their driver’s license, but Catti is usually the one behind the wheel whenever the two need to go anywhere.
When they arrive at Night Owl, Kris can already see Jockington and Shannon waiting for them alongside a few others just outside the door. Shannon is a short, fluffy black and white sheep monster with a pair of curled black horns. She’s wearing a flashy red dress and her lips twitch into a small smile when Kris and Catti approach.
“It’s good to see you, girl!” she says. She lays her hands over Catti’s and bats her eyelashes at her. Kris thinks her crush on Catti is quite apparent, but from what they could tell, Catti didn’t seem to notice or care. “And you too, Kris!”
“It’s been, like, too long,” says Jockington.
Jockington hasn’t changed much since they went to school together. He has the same smooth green scales, even the same sunshades and backwards-facing hat. The only exception is the short, pointy beard growing from his chin. Kris wishes they could cut it off.
“Happy birthday, Shan,” says Catti. Her expression has softened into the closest she’s ever come to a smile.
“Happy birthday,” Kris repeats.
Shannon releases Catti’s hands.
“It won’t be hard to find a table inside,” she tells them. “Part of why we asked everyone to come early, of course.”
She begins to lead them in. There’s a stoic bull monster standing at the front that beckons to them, and when they approach, Shannon flashes him her ID. He proceeds to press a light green stamp against the top of her hand and continues down the line as he cards them. When he gets to Kris, his eyes light up in surprise.
“Woah,” he says. “We don’t get a lot of human patrons around here.”
Kris shuffles their feet uncomfortably. They remain silent as they pass their ID card over, and in return, the same feather-shaped pattern is stamped over their skin.
Shannon beelines it to a corner booth near the back as soon as they’re let inside. Kris remains close at Catti’s heels as the group begins to settle down. The interior of the club is lit only by bright, neon pinks and purples. The main floor is comprised mostly of booths and a wide, square-shaped bar at the center, as well as a couple pool tables near the back. It’s surprisingly clean and well-maintained, but Kris can still smell the lingering musk in the air from other partying customers.
On the back wall, close to where Shannon chose for them to sit, Kris can see a large, intimidating-looking owl built from neon lights. Between its claws rests the club’s signature in bold letters.
“I come here all the time,” says Shannon. “Oh! You should try the cherry margarita, Catti. You’ll love it.”
Catti looks to Kris. “Want to get a drink with us?”
Kris hesitates.
“Not yet,” they murmur. It’s hard to hear over the music that’s pounding over the speakers. “You go. I’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” says Catti. She grasps them by the wrist. “Come get me if you need anything. Remember. No going to the bathroom alone or leaving your drink when you get one. And if anyone gets weird with you, go for the groin.”
“I know,” responds Kris with a grin. “Thanks, Catti.”
She leaves alongside Jockington and Shannon, heading towards the bar. The other friends she came with scatter across the floor, a few of them starting a game of pool and another having a deep conversation with what appears to be the club’s DJ.
Kris resigns themself to watch the bags left behind at the booth they selected. They pull out their phone before remembering how much they wiped from it and release a groan of irritation. Instead, they watch as more and more monsters enter the club, filling the other booths around them and chatting amongst one another.
At some point, Jockington slithers back to the table. He has his tail wrapped around a tall glass with a miniature umbrella inside.
“Yo, Kris!” he says. He sets the glass on the table. “I’m gonna guard this stuff like a goalkeeper if you want to go hang. Go get a drink or something.”
❤︎ Accept.
Kris stands. They glance at Jockington gingerly.
“Um. Sure,” they say. “Thanks, Jockington.”
“No problem-o, they-chacho.”
❤︎ Get a drink.
The bar at the center of the floor is more crowded than it was when they entered. Kris selects a seat at the less populated side, perching atop one of the swivel chairs. There’s a laminated menu splayed out in front of them and they’re scanning the ‘beverages’ section for the most radioactive thing they can find.
When they finally decide on something, the bartender comes around to take their order. She returns a few minutes later with a drink that’s a much brighter green than Kris expected. It looks like something Queen would drink.
The liquid tastes foul and inedible, which is exactly what Kris needs right now. They knock it back, savoring the burning sensation at the back of their throat.
They hear the squeak of a cushion to their left and turn to see a tall wall of muscle. She’s tall with broad shoulders and ridged, sculpted arms and fingers clasped together on the tabletop. Her scales are a shade of dark green and she has a long, flat snout that resembles an alligator’s. She glances at Kris with a wink, waving over the bartender casually with one hand.
“I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” she says. Her voice is so deep Kris can feel it rumble in their bones. “And I’ll pay for whatever my friend here would like.”
Kris blinks. It takes them a moment to realize she’s talking to them.
“Um…” says Kris.
❤︎ Accept.
“I’ll have the same,” they finish. Their mouth moves on its own accord, or rather in accordance with the SOUL’s instructions.
The bartender nods, turning to begin mixing the drink behind the counter. The alligator monster rests their elbow against the countertop, a wide, toothy smile spreading over her face.
“My name’s Allison,” she says. “You can call me Ally.”
“Hi,” breathes Kris. “I’m, er… I’m Kris.”
“Pretty name for a pretty face,” says Ally. “This is your first time here, right? I think I’d remember seeing a human around.”
The bartender returns with two glasses. Kris takes their serving, bringing it to their mouth to taste. It’s much sweeter than whatever drink they ordered before, and they lick the flavor off their lips to relish it.
Ally brings her own glass to her lips. Her eyes are on Kris the entire time she drinks, and the look in them makes their face burn.
“The guy at the front said that, too,” they murmur.
“Sorry. It’s gotta be weird for people to keep pointing it out, huh?”
They nod.
When half of their drink is gone, Kris can feel a buzz on the tip of their nose. Their face feels warm and even though the lights are starting to feel too bright, it’s the first time in a while they’ve felt so comfortable in their skin.
Ally is telling them something about the last time she came to the club with her friends. Most of her story is going in one ear and out of the other, but Kris nods along to keep her talking. She continues giving them flirty glances throughout the conversation, and when Kris finishes their drink, she orders them another.
❤︎ Drink.
Kris doesn’t normally drink this much. They’re perfectly fine wallowing in their own self-pity sober. So, when they sip at their third drink of the night, the neon lights above them start blurring into little fireworks, and they clutch at the side of the table like it’s a lifeline. Ally doesn’t seem nearly as affected as them, either because of her experience partying or her large mass.
They turn in their seat, glancing towards the booth they shared with Shannon. The sheep monster is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Catti nor Jockington. A pair of her other friends stand by the table, but it’s no one Kris is familiar with.
Their throat clenches. They aren’t feeling so good. Where did Catti go?
“Something wrong?” Ally asks. She leaned in closer while Kris wasn’t looking, and they can smell the Jack and Coke on her breath.
“Looking for m’friend,” Kris says. It’s hard to get the words out.
They can feel their stomach twist when Ally rests one of her arms around their shoulders. She was familiar to them in a way that was comforting, but now, they are beginning to lose interest. When they lean away from her, the SOUL protests, and they can feel a sting of pain in their chest.
Ally looks a bit offended by their response.
“I thought we had something good going on, Kris,” she says sharply. “Don’t you want to keep talking a little while longer?”
❤︎ Yes.
“Yes—No,” says Kris. Their head is spinning. “I just. I want to find my friend.”
They rise from their seat. Kris keeps their grasp on the table, desperately attempting to blink the fuzziness out of their eyes. Ally stands and clasps their upper arm in her claws, turning them to face her again.
“Hey,” she repeats herself. “You didn’t even finish your drink. Come on, just a little while longer. Then we can find your friend together.”
Someone steps between the two of them, shoving Ally’s hand away from Kris. She stumbles back with a wide-eyed look.
“They said no,” says a low voice. “Get lost.”
Ally freezes. She glances one last time at Kris with an irritable look before she turns, slinking into the crowd.
Kris feels dizzy. When they release their hold on the counter, they stumble forward, but whoever intervened reacts quickly to prevent them from faceplanting on the ground. Their hair hangs in a mess over their face and a wave of nausea roils in their gut.
“Hey. Maybe you need some water,” the voice says gently. “You said you have a friend here?”
They nod, pointing vaguely in the direction of the booth they were staying at. The figure helps them walk over, seating them on the plush cushions. Kris fumbles with their bag in search of their water bottle and large, scaly hands help push it into their palms.
“Drink up.”
As soon as the lukewarm water hits their lips, it’s like it’s the best drink Kris has ever tasted. They gulp down as much as they can before they start feeling sick again, and they rest it between their thighs. Now that they feel a bit more alive, they wipe their hands across their face and glance up at their knight in shining denim.
No fucking way.
It’s Susie.
Her hair is shorter now, cut just above her shoulders. There are a few piercings decorating her face, one on the side of her nose and two hoops around one of her eyebrows. Her yellow eyes are blown wide in surprise, no doubt in reaction to finally seeing the hair out of Kris’s face.
“You’re kidding me,” she mutters. “Kris!?”
“Susie?” Kris drawls. They cover their eyes with their hands again, turning their head down to shield themself away from the bright lights. “Ugh. No…”
“Seven years,” Susie growls. “Seven fucking years. No calls, no texts, no nothing. Have you been in Castaway this whole damn time!?”
❤︎ Tell the truth.
“Yes,” Kris says without a beat. They cough, wrenching their control back from the SOUL. “I mean. No.”
“Two completely different answers, dude,” she continues. “Do you even know how much you messed up your parents? How much you messed up Noelle?”
“I’m sorry,” Kris cries. Tears flow down the sides of their face. The alcohol is making it way too easy to start sobbing. “I’m sorry, Susie. Don’t be mad. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t want to.”
Susie’s expression twists into one of uncertainty. She glances back towards the bar, then to Kris. When they hiccup, she kneels down to rest her claws over the back of their hand. Unlike the contact they had with Ally earlier, this feels gentler. Welcoming.
“Okay,” she says. “This isn’t over, okay? But you’re, like, really messed up right now. We can deal with it when you aren’t acting like a zombie.”
Kris nods, biting their lip. They can feel Susie squeeze their hand before releasing them and rising to her feet.
“I came with Catti,” they murmur. “Dunno where she went.”
“Figured. I saw her and Jockington with some sheep girl,” says Susie. She scratches the back of her neck nervously. “Never thought she’d be tagging along with you, though. I’ve been trying to avoid them all night.”
“Why’re you here?”
Susie shifts her weight nervously.
“Noelle and I went on a trip to the city,” she explains. “We were on our way back to Hometown, but she started feeling funny. Castaway was the closest place we could get a room at. She’s feeling better now, by the way. But I figured I’d have a look around before we left.”
“So, you went clubbing by yourself?”
Susie’s face flushes.
“Place looked interesting, that’s all!” she protests with a huff. “You’re the one so drunk you can’t even stand.”
Kris’s shoulders slump. They raise their water bottle up to their lips again with shaky hands. The thin plastic crinkles around their fingers.
“Maybe I should get Catti,” says Susie with a grimace. “You don’t look so hot.”
They’re tempted to fire back with a joke, but instead, they rest their head against the table. The wood feels smooth and cold against their cheek. When they reply with only a groan, Susie pats the back of their shoulder.
“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.”
Kris remains hunched over for several minutes. They’re watching the shadows of monsters dance across the floor like a kaleidoscope. Just when they’re about to fall asleep, they spot Catti rushing over.
“Kris?” she asks. Her eyes are round with worry. “I should have kept a better eye on you. Come on, I’ll drive us back home.”
She helps them to their feet and wraps an arm around their waist to keep them upright. Susie stands a proper distance away, looking at the two of them awkwardly. There’s a glimpse of resentment in Catti’s eyes when she glances at her, but she thanks her with a nod regardless.
“Can you let me know when they’re feeling better?” Susie asks. “Maybe Noelle and I can visit. Do you still have her number?”
“I do,” says Catti. She purses her lips. “I’ll consider it.”
There’s a deep sense of foreboding in Kris’s chest. The SOUL beats excitedly.
“No,” murmurs Kris. Catti’s ear twitches. “No. I can’t. Please.”
Judging by the looks on their faces, Kris must sound deluded at this point, if their words are even legible. Catti ushers them along, walking out into the cold night air. It nips at their cheeks.
Catti helps them into the car. The drive back to the apartment feels faster than when they left earlier, or perhaps time is starting to blend together. When they’re back, Catti helps Kris up the steps and tucks them under the blankets on their bed. She leaves a glass of cold water at the side of their bed and sits on the corner of the mattress.
“I won’t run off with Shannon again,” she promises. “I’m sorry, Kris.”
“T’s not your fault,” they murmur.
“Maybe not,” she says. “But we’re the only ones that can keep an eye on each other here. I’ve never liked Susie. But I can’t say I’m not glad she was here to help you tonight.”
The mention of Susie makes the pit in their stomach grow bigger. Kris swallows, covering their eyes with their forearm. Catti sighs, and they can feel her weight lift from the bed. When they hear the click of their bedroom door slide shut, they release a breath and turn onto their side.
They can feel themself sink deeper into their pillow before they drift off into sleep.
They dream of something that Kris has been haunted with for years.
They’re perched at the end of Noelle’s couch, palm splayed across the soft fabric. She sits in front of them, eyes shut, with her hands clasped together in her lap. Noelle leans in so close that their noses brush together and Kris can taste the peppermint in her breath. She’s about to kiss them, they know she is, but they can feel their SOUL thrumming against their collarbone with an intensity that renders them terrified.
Kris’s hand comes up instinctively, covering Noelle’s mouth. They can feel her plush lips against their palm. She freezes, eyes flying wide, before she pushes their hand down.
“Kris, it’s okay! It’s just us,” says Noelle. She’s wearing a bright smile like nothing is wrong with the world. “You just said not to mention any of that… Because it’d get… heard.”
Their hand rises once more, desperate to stop any more words that may leave her lips.
“Kris… Kris, it’s okay, it’s just us,” she tells them soothingly. Oh, Noelle. She’s being so careful to accommodate them that she’s even closed her curtains, but she doesn’t realize it’s them she should be afraid of.
“Who…? Who’s going to hear?”
❤︎ Me.
Noelle’s eyes grow wide with terror. Kris can feel her nails tense against their skin, from where she’s still holding their hand.
“Kris…?” she trails off. Her voice is trembling. “K… Kris, your voice, it…”
They can feel their heart race. Tears threaten to pierce their eyes, but their face is stone cold and rigid.
“Ha… ha… Kris, that’s… another joke, right…?”
Noelle’s brows are furrowed and twisted. Kris can feel her panic rising, and so can the SOUL. It pulses in excitement, thrilled by her fearful expression.
Her thoughts ring in their skull.
That voice… how… the voice from my dream…
❤︎ Because it wasn't a dream.
Her shrill scream doesn’t even make them flinch.
What happens next is a blur.
Noelle is backed away into the other end of the couch, arms raised as if she is ready to push them away. The SOUL is using them to press forwards, advancing towards her with a thorn between their thumb and forefinger. When they finally reach her, grasping the collar of her shirt in their fist, her eyes become empty.
Like she surrendered.
“… K… Kris?”
They turn her palm over gently and prick her ring finger with the thorn.
Kris can feel their heart stop.
Noelle’s blood drips down their hand, flowing down until it reaches their wrist. It drips, leaving a pattern of red droplets on their thigh. She’s expressionless, staring past them with a distant look. The lack of warmth in her face makes her nearly unrecognizable.
Kris tears themself away from the couch, rushing towards the bedroom door. They grasp the doorknob, frantically fumbling with the lock. They need to leave. They can’t stay here any longer. Their shoulders shake, blood running cold when they realize they’re trapped inside.
Arms wrap around their waist. Noelle is behind them, holding them close and burying her nose into the crook of their shoulder.
“Don’t leave me like this, Kris,” she murmurs. When Kris looks down, they can see her blood smearing across the green and yellow of their sweater.
“You wouldn’t leave me like this, would you?” she begs. “Please don’t leave.”
Kris collapses, sinking to the floor with a sob. Her arms remain around them like a harness.
“Don’t leave me,” she repeats. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”
Tears mix with the sticky blood stained on their shirt.
“Don’t leave, Kris.”
❤︎ Proceed.