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After Carol told Kris how she wanted to ruin their life, she took them through the drive thru that was fifteen minutes out of town.
Kris stewed in the passenger seat, boots carving black smudges on Carol’s glove box as she ordered a kid’s meal and a small milkshake into the speaker outside her window. “Do you want the girl toy, or the boy toy,” she intoned in their general direction. Kris swiveled their head to stare at her and said nothing.
“Boy toy,” she said out the window, and Kris’ skin prickled.
The hot night humidity coming in through the window soothed them. The AC blew frigid air in their face, no matter how they angled the vents. They inched forward in line, neither saying a word. Kris focused their attention on the details of Carol’s car. It was surprisingly dirty—bits of grass and dirt lined the floor mats, there were protein bar wrappers stuffed between the seats, and when Carol braked they could hear water bottles rolling around in the seat behind them. They picked up a quarter that had fallen next to their seat and pocketed it. Carol reached out and collected their food when they reach the last window, swinging the bag around to drop it in Kris’ lap.
“Eat,” she said, pulling into a space at the edge of the parking lot.
Kris ate, tearing open the bag and biting into the burger. Carol sipped haltingly on her milkshake.
Even though they were outside of Hometown, they were still hours from the city. Across the street from the restaurant, there was a gas station with a single pump. Through the florescent windows, Kris could see an employee scrolling on their phone with their chin in one hand. Deep, lush forest surrounded both buildings, blanketing the area in leaves and deadening the sound of the highway a few miles away. The terrible silence coming from Hometown eked its way down the single lane road. Kris trained their eyes away from the dark and onto their rapidly disappearing meal in front of them. Carol waited for them to put the last of their fries in their mouth before speaking.
“She won’t get hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The potato felt like dust between their teeth. “You don’t know that.”
Carol sniffed. “Please. Your mother is made of sturdier stuff then you give her credit for. You’ve managed to survive, and you two are children. She will be asleep. She will be safe.”
“And you’ve never been there,” Kris hissed at Carol, derision seeping out of the side of their mouth. “You have no idea what it’s like in there. The amount of times I had save your daughter’s skin today—“
“Enough,” Carol hissed back, mint chocolate chip breath blowing into Kris’ face. “Noelle’s involvement was an unfortunate accident and will not happen again. Your mother must be brought in this way. Stop acting like a child.”
“Then stop treating me like one!” Kris raised their voice at her, voice loud in the small space. Their vocal chords protested, scratchy with disuse. They don't remember the last time they yelled. They couldn't yell at Toriel like they could Carol. “Let me figure something else out. I know how they work, let me me talk to Tenna when we go in tonight and—“
“Tenna?” Carol said incredulously. “You’re giving them names? That’s proof you aren’t capable of separating real life from these, these stories you’re making up—“
“They’re not stories, and you would know that if you ever bothered to—“
“I have more important things to do than play pretend with you and that girl—“
“At least Susie visits Rudy in the hospital!”
“That’s enough, December—“
Carol’s teeth rattles as her jaw snaps shut. Kris’ stomach churns, the burger and fries threatening to make a reappearance as they stare at her in shock. Carol looks down at her hands.
They sit in tense silence for a while, Carol’s fingernails carving crescent moons into the steering wheel while Kris’ do the same to their thighs. A car pulls up to the gas pump across the street, and the man who gets out of it looks at them across the lanes but does not wave. Finally, Carol puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking space.
“Where are we going,” Kris asks her, before she pulls around the building and back into the drive thru. She does not answer, but she yells into the speaker, “I want a chocolate hand pie,” and pulls through to pay. “Carol,” Kris tries again, but she remains silent as she hands the dead eyed employee her card. Kris huffs and looks out the window, not turning as Carol again drops the bag on their lap, this time pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road towards home. She doesn’t speak until she pulls up outside their darkened house.
“You have done well these past few days,” she says, looking across the car’s dashboard in front of her. “I know you are under an immense amount of pressure. Do not forget why we are doing this.” Kris looked out at their house, knowing Susie and their mother would be snoring peacefully in the living room. They knew the SOUL was upstairs, maybe struggling against the bars of the birdcage, maybe inert and motionless. Kris wondered, not for the first time, where it went when it wasn't here, this destroying Angel with the power of a god. Where it went when it wasn't puppeting them around on seemingly frivolous whims. When it got bored of their life. Exhaustion tugged at their eyelids. Carol’s perfume felt heady and thick in the car, the pine smell enveloping them. It smelled like home.
“Kris,” Carol said. They hesitated, then turned their head to look at her. “Thank you,” she said, voice quiet. “We will get through this. We’ll get her back.” Her voice broke on the word her. “Now. Get out of the car, and eat your pie. Then, go inside and open the fountain. I will see you tomorrow.” With this clear dismissal, she turned her head back toward the road in front of her.
Kris waited a few beats, collected their food bags, and got out of the car. They closed the door quietly and watched Carol’s tail lights retreat down their driveway back towards town. They didn’t have much time left before Undyne was set to arrive, but they sat down heavily on the curb anyways to eat their pie. Their front yard was ill kept, grass growing too high and weeds tickling the skin where their shirt rode up around their hips. They shoved half the pie in their mouth and went to ball up the bag, before the feeling of hard plastic reminded them of the toy inside. They reached their hand in to retrieve it.
Sitting in their palm was a purple dragon, orange painted fire exploding out of its mouth. Their fingers could wrap delicately around its neck, but even as they squeezed, its expression didn’t change. The dragon’s final attack from Dragon Blazers 2, immortalized in plastic and forever chemicals.
Kris swallowed the rest of the pie and chucked the bag in the trash can, pocketing the dragon. Maybe Susie would like it, if she didn’t think toys from kid’s meals were for babies. They wiped their hands on their jeans, fast food grease darkening the denim, before turning towards the house and reaching for their knife.