Chapter Text
(They look happy.)
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. The pain is sharp, not only at my words, but at the scene before them. I can only feel a shadow of what they do, and I’d still probably be crying, if I could. For once, I’m almost happy I can’t feel the true extent of their feelings. Grief is a profound, smoldering kind of pain. One we were both familiar with, in our own ways.
Kris surely looked beautiful right now.
I wish I could see the sunset’s fires of orange and pink dance between their red eyes. I wish I could tell them that this feeling won’t last forever. I wish I could see a way to ease their pain.
Instead, all I can see is a blurry silhouette of two laughing girls standing in the lake, illuminated by passion and beauty both within and without.
Tears slide down their cheeks. As the scene in front of us falls back toward the earth, I feel the metal of the table *thunk* heavily against their face. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as their heart does.
(Please don’t hurt yourself), I whisper to them. (It never helps.)
(Shut the fuck up, please.) Their reply is instant, and sharp. I would expect no less.
I take a moment to genuinely consider the request. I’ve earned much of their ire over the last week, and especially the last few days. It’s been a truly unfortunate necessity, but this... If I can help them now, we’ll both feel better.
The pain in their face throbs gently. We both hear a girlish laugh echo from the shore. They close their eyes, letting unseen tears fall under the table. Their breath catches for a moment.
I just can’t take seeing them like this.
(If it helps-)
(Shut UP!)
...I’m sorry, Kris, but I have to tell you.
(...If it helps... I know how this feels.)
(Like hell you do.) More tears fall. The pain in their face grows as their expression scrunches in pain, dragging slightly across the cold grid.
(I do. I know you feel for her. And I know you used to feel that way for Noelle, too. It feels unfair. It feels horrible.)
Their breathing hitches again. Their fists tighten, their unkempt nails biting into their palms.
(...I wish I could tell you that it gets better. It really only gets... well, easier.)
(You suck at this.)
Were I able to smile or sigh, I would do both. (It’s been a while since I felt this way myself. But I remember it very clearly. It’s something you never forget, not really.)
More giggles reach their ears. The sloshing of waves against sand, of feet through water, join with the soft rustle of leaves and birdsongs in the wind.
(But this isn’t even close to the end. You’ll feel this way for lots of people in your life, most of which you haven’t met yet. Some of them *will* feel the same for you, too.)
The fist on the table shielding them from the sunset clenches harder. The one down by their side moves silently to the sheath on their lower back. I feel their thumb trace along the tang of the blade, the coldness of the metal contrasting against the bumps of the plastic handle.
I don’t have to be able to read their mind to know what they’re thinking.
(You don’t deserve to be in pain. You don’t have to hurt just so others can be happy.)
With a short, barking sigh somewhere between a laugh and a sob, their torso heaves once, gently. (Evidence to the contrary.)
Their thumb gently strokes the handle. Up, and down. Up, and down. By now I’ve learned not to freak out when they do this. Most of the time it’s simply stimming. More rarely, it’s a grounding technique.
On days like this, though, I can’t be sure it’s either of those.
The sounds of sloshing water grow slightly closer. Susie’s voice rings out in a startled “whoops!”, followed by a cry from Noelle. Then laughter. More words, too soft to make out, but *quite* loud enough for the aching teen on the bench to hear the tone.
(They’re better off with each other, anyway.) Their thumb presses into the handle as their fingers lightly wrap around it. A soft, silent tapping can be felt. (I can’t be what either of them needs.)
Goddamnit, Kris. You don’t *know* that.
(...And before you say, “you don’t know that”; yes, I do.)
...Goddamnit, Kris.
What do you say to someone who can’t tell themselves a single kindness? What can you do for someone who thinks their sole purpose is facilitating others’ happiness? What can you show someone who’s unwilling to look at the forest, and insists on staring only at the twisted, gnarled trunks of dying trees?
The chirp of a cellphone ripples the air. The girls’ tones shift down, turning to mumbles before the phone is answered.
(Please tell me how I can help you.)
(You’ve done *plenty*, thanks.)
If I had a body of my own, the venom in those words would have caused me to wilt. After all, I can’t really argue.
The girls’ words float gently on the wind.
A fist tightens around a blade’s grip.
(...At least tell me how to keep you safe right now. Please.)
There’s no response for a long time. In reality it could only have been seconds, but tension tends to elongate pauses like this.
(You love knowing you have all the power, don’t you?) The sneering sarcasm drips through their words like tears through a metal grid. (Why don’t you *force* me to be safe?)
(You know I-)
The heavy footfalls of a purple dragon rush by. Every muscle in Kris’ body tenses and locks in place as their eyes shoot wide, like a deer that just caught sight of a wolf. Susie doesn’t stop for a moment. In her rushed pace for ice cream, not a glance is spared for the human at the table. Sensing this, Kris slowly releases the knife and brings their arm back to their side, letting the stale air they reflexively held within them to be exhaled.
(See? She doesn’t care.)
As Noelle drops to her knees and babbles to herself a stone’s throw away, I try to say something. I look for any words that could possibly help. I fail.
“K-Kris!?”
The doe’s voice causes them to jump, but their face stays on the table.
“Faha, I had forgotten you were... umm, still here! How much of that, did you, um, hear?”
The smoldering pain inside Kris flickers brighter. More tears start to form, but the enby fights gravity to keep them from her sight.
Oh, Noelle. We didn’t have to hear all of it for Kris to hear enough.
It feels like a mercy from the Angel when the phone chirps its incessant song for a third time.
...Well perhaps not a mercy. The conversation shocks Noelle, as evidenced by her voice. At the mention of Rudy, Kris’s body locks in place again.
Oh, no.
“Kris...”
Kris does not move. They don’t even breathe.
“Kris... just... tell Susie I REALLY wanted to talk to her, but...”
Silence passes for barely a second. Perhaps a full minute. Maybe even a full day.
“I just... I just had to...”
Hooves pass them by at a steady pace. The air is filled with the soft crunching of dirt, growing softer by the moment.
And then, it was just us.
Realizing the desperate urge to breathe, Kris’ body compensates by taking panicked heaves. Their body is no less tense than moments before. Only their diaphragm dares to move, and it does so with the energy of a struggling prey animal.
(Kris; slow, deep breaths.)
It’s literally impossible that my words went unheard, but they certainly went unheeded. The rigamortis started to crack apart, their hand twitching back towards the blade.
(KRIS!)
While I didn’t *force* anything to happen, I was still able to shock them. The hand hung in the air, inches away from the weapon.
(Please. *Please*. Slow your breathing first.)
A pang of anger directed squarely towards me bloomed from the pain inside. It was a righteous, furious anger, but it was silent.
(We know Susie is going to come back any moment, and if she sees you doing anything like tha-)
(SHUT...) Their hand jerked forward, forming a claw of fingers aimed at their chest.
At me.
Long nails started pressing into the flesh over their sternum. As I began to be pulled from their chest, heavy footfalls sounded behind us, rapidly growing louder and louder.
The hand fell limp once more.
The purple dragon, loudly calling for Noelle, thundered past the bench once more. I could feel Kris force themself to calm down, if only because they knew they no longer had a choice. The irony was not lost on me.
As they finished stealthily wiping the moisture from their eyes through the holes in the table, Susie’s attention *finally* fell on them.
“Hey, Kris, wake the hell up!”
Peeling their face from the table was no easy task. Physically, sure, it was simple enough, but I could feel their hesitation weighing them down. Even as they sat up, they made a point to look straight out over the water, at the leaves above, at the clouds even higher. Anywhere but at her.
Until she laughed.
Even if she was laughing *at* them, the sound still drew their gaze.
Smooth violet scales glinted softly in the sunlight. Messy hair bounced and danced across her shoulders. Ice cream slowly dripped down her clawed hands. Her pointed teeth smiled down as the last of her mirth escaped.
Kris’ heart fluttered. The smolder in their chest dimmed. For the smallest, tiniest moment, it was okay... even if they *did* look like a pineapple.
Then came the inevitable question.
With great effort, Kris extracted themself from the bench. Their tired limbs ached, their joints creaked, their shoulders slumped, but they stood all the same. Their eyes made sure never to look directly at Susie’s as they walked to her.
“Her mom called again. She had to go.”
Susie’s posture betrayed her disappointment. I felt Kris’s attention start to glaze over, their internal autopilot overriding the world around us. Another coping mechanism I had grown used to. I wanted to say something, to tell them not to numb themself, but... now was not the time to press the issue. They deserved some peace, even if it came from an unhealthy source.
Predictably, the decision to follow Noelle was made. Like a machine, Kris started back toward the town. Muscles still tight from lack of movement for the last few hours, they ignored everything that wasn’t strictly necessary to keep moving forward. The path was linear, so even their attention wasn’t needed.
All I felt was that quiet, burning pain, and the soft *thuds* of their feet upon the earth.
It wasn’t until earth turned to asphalt as we passed their father’s store that they were required to zone back in.
Susie asked if she could take a moment to run inside. It was obvious why, and obvious that she wasn’t waiting for an answer.
As the door to Flower King clicked shut, we were alone once more.
(Kris, I just want to help you. Let me-)
Their knees landed hard on the pavement. Their hand reached toward the fading colors of the sky as their breathing slowed to a crawl.
(KRIS, WAIT! NOT HERE!!)
And suddenly, painfully, I was devoid of them. The cool air danced across my corporeal form before I was thrown unceremoniously into a trash can.
The lid above me shut. I sensed only darkness, and the slightly-fetid stench of a day’s worth of garbage.
...God-FUCKING-damnit, Kris!