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“Don’t forget, Kris.”
“. . .You promised.”
Cold night’s air crept in through the open window as Kris lingered halfway between their warm bedroom and a fall outside. Their whole body ran frigid, with an empty and vacant abscess in their chest no longer pumping the heat of life through their veins. It was probably dangerous, probably stupid, but anything was better than trying to sleep through the noise, and Kris needed some time to themself. Time that wasn’t shared with something else.
As soon as the caller hung up with a click from the phone, Kris’ goosebumps began to relax. Exhaling a small breath of relief that may very well have been the first proper noise they made all night as the knowledge that the caller didn’t expect a response settled in. Kris then turned their attention back outside, gazing at the wind brushing through the treetops.
..Susie was in the distance. Trudging down the steps into Hometown slowly. She’d lingered to say something outside, something Kris couldn’t hear but truly, desperately wished they could. The way she turned her head to glance back at the door, not noticing Kris’ gaze in the window. Should they have stayed? Went with her? Could they still?
The thought was tantalizing. To leap out of the second story window and chase after her. To catch up and apologize for the sheer awkwardness of it all and follow her to wherever she’s going. Home? Castle Town? Anything was better than this stuffy, echoey room. Maybe they could do another sleepover. Spend the night together, no soul required.
Kris then exhaled again, hanging their head limply. “No,” they mutter. What a selfish thought. That’s why the phone had rung, after all. To remind Kris of where they truly stood. Susie and Kris weren’t on the same team. Susie and something else were, something that, although close, was never Kris. Kris could never be as good as the person Susie is friends with.
Maybe, though. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Maybe Kris could pretend to be the Kris that Susie knows and wants for an evening and successfully fool her into thinking they’re a likeable person. Maybe Susie could even grow to like the real Kris. The selfish, lying, freak Kris. She’s almost disappeared into the darkness of Hometown. One last chance to jump down and run after her.
Kris doesn’t take it. Sitting on their windowsill in silence with a hung head. “You’re pathetic,” they tell themselves. “You can’t back out now. You promised. Think of the greater good.”
Instead, Kris opts to head somewhere else, hopping down from the windowsill and landing in front of their house with a quiet thud. A drop they’ve perfected after years of sneaking out, and even more years of failing to sneak out. Right now, they need something to eat and at least some sleep. Maybe also a shower. Home isn’t friendly right now, so Kris creeps through the trees to the next house over.
Approaching the gate of the Holiday Manor, its imposing stature might intimidate lesser, weaker-willed troublemakers, but Kris Dreemurr never settled at anything ‘lesser’ when it came to trouble-making. Even with these worn out muscles and slow moving, zombie-like body, the muscle memory needed to climb the gate and roll over onto the other side came instantly. They could sneak into Noelle’s house in their sleep.
Noelle. The thought of her seeing them, of the off-chance that she’s still awake and answers the door, it’s enough to make Kris pause. Standing in the walkway hesitating to take another step. The distance between them and the door feels as if it’s doubling in size each moment. Thoughts of what might happen if she saw Kris right now flooding their mind. She’d be worried. Can’t have that. She’d want to help them get better. Can’t have that. She’d never leave their side until they could stand up straight. Can’t have that.
Kris would probably end up on her couch, wrapped in a blanket, sound asleep like so many nights before. Waking up in her room the next morning as if everything were okay. Such a tempting daydream, it almost makes Kris’ heavy eyes begin to close to imagine it properly, before they suddenly clench their fist and stick their nails into their palm. Can’t. Have. That.
Palming in their pocket for their phone, Kris briefly had to remind themself that they’d deleted all of their contacts in a rush earlier that day, trying to prevent their SOUL from looking through them. The empty list of numbers reflected how they felt, hunched against one of the lamps in the Holiday Manor walkway, a hollow husk standing out in the cold, dark night. A zombie. Taking in a sharp breath, Kris input a number they’d memorized and let the dial tone quietly echo into the night. Unsure if they truly wanted an answer or not.
…
On the other end of the number, sharp blue painted nails tapped the answer button, as Carol Holiday brought her phone to her ear. She was sitting on her bed, laptop in front of her as she worked on expenses for the month late into the hours of the night. She should be asleep right now, but the work was more important. It distracted her from how half-empty the bed was.
Inhaling an icy breath, Carol spoke. “Kris. You’re up late. Does Toriel know you’re still awake?”
Silently she listens to an answer mumbled through the phone. “..No. ..She’s drunk.”
There was a brief pause. Carol’s eyelids got tighter for a moment, her lip curled downwards just a tad as she nodded and spoke. “I see. You’re outside, aren’t you?”
Another quiet mumble. “Mhm.”
In all honesty, this worked out. Filling out forms for tomorrow's festival endlessly was insufferably banal, and she didn’t get to speak with Kris nearly as much as she would have liked earlier that day. It was also nice that, for once, they were actually asking to come inside rather than just climbing through a window. Carol spoke again. “I’ll be right there.”
It was getting cold to the point where Kris could see their own breath, shaky clouds of vapor fading quickly into nothing as they clutched their own arms and hunched over in the dark. Stumbling forward towards the door as every step felt like lifting a twenty pound weight. Unsure of how long they could last like this, but needing to keep going. The pain was worth the hours awake by themself, able to hobble where they wanted, able to suffer of their own volition.
Shaky, groaning breaths each slow step towards the Holiday’s door, outstretching a hand to grapple the doorknob before it swung open on them and the light from the inside covered Kris, spilling into view as they recoiled and stumbled back onto the still-drying-from-rain walkway. Hovering silently as Carol stood in the doorway.
She was dressed in a suit jacket and tie from the top up, which had clearly been thrown over a light blue sleep shirt to maintain an air of professionalism. From the waist-down, however, she was in Powerpuff Monsters leggings and blue fuzzy slippers. Pale blue eyes shrank towards Kris briefly, before they re-focused and settled. “Come in.” She spoke, voice as cold as ever. Still, a particularly trained ear could detect the sentimentality in it. “Try not to make much noise. Noelle is sleeping.”
Kris did little more than hobble inside and give a small nod of affirmation, staying around walls and objects to ground themselves. It was so hard to move like this. When they were whole– SOUL powering their actions– it seemed to override things like exhaustion and stamina. It could run endlessly and seemed to either ignore– or be entirely unaware of Kris’ lack of sleep. However, without it, Kris themselves was unable to ignore such facts of life. Kris hadn’t had a full night's sleep in over half a week.
Finding their way to the couch in the Holiday Manor’s frankly absurd living room, Kris surrendered themself immediately to a cushion and sank into the pillows, arm against the rest as their head hunched. After a little while of relief over not having to stand and Carol also making her way to the couch, laptop set on the table she’d pulled forward so she could continue working while they were over, Kris decided to finally speak up.
“. . .’M sorry.” They muttered out, glancing away with the briefest of apologies for the trouble of having to put up with them at such an hour. They got the sense that Carol didn’t exactly want to be there right now, and truthfully, Kris always felt uncomfortable with her. Something about that sense of being judged and like a burden that was always passively there in Kris’ life was exacerbated by Carol’s cold demeanor.
“You don’t have to apologize. Holidays don’t say sorry, and you’re a valued friend of the family. What you’ve done for us, what you’re doing for December, makes up for anything.” Carol responded curtly, not looking away from her laptop. It was a strange and sudden exchange, with an intention and passion in her words Kris wasn’t particularly used to. Even if, again, the outside listener may hear nothing but the same cold monotone.
In response, Kris shrunk away and curled up on the couch, setting their shoes down behind it, off the carpet and the cushions. Coiled in their own body heat and simply existing silently to the ambience of wind outside. Sleep tugs at their very body, warm hands yanking them downwards, along with exhaustion and fatigue, but hunger is pulling them the other way, as Kris falls sideways in their curled-up state and lays their head on the cushion.
After a minute or two of this clear struggle, Carol let out an annoyed sigh and closed her laptop, looking to the human. “Kris. Have you eaten at all today?” She asks, a stern tone that reminded Kris of Toriel when she was attentive enough.
A second of silence, and then a quiet “Mmhm.”
Carol raised an eyebrow slowly. “When and what, Kris.” She replied, unconvinced. There were days when she’d also have to coax this information out of her own daughters, who were having similarly difficult weeks.
“L.. Lunch. At QCs. With..” Kris’ voice trailed off. Carol wasn’t the biggest fan of Susie, and trying to say her name right now tugged at their heart. What was the beginning letter of her name devolved into a small whine of admitting hunger.
“Lunch.” Carol re-stated, crossing her arms. “You haven’t eaten since lunch?”
Kris removed their arms from their face to give Carol an embarrassed look. They could try, perhaps, to feign an uncaring demeanor like they would with Noelle or Catti, people who they could push away, but Carol knew better. To pretend like they were physically okay or didn’t care was a fruitless effort.
Carol once again let out a sigh, and put her hand to the bridge of her snout, pinching it slightly. “I’ll make you something. Breakfast. If you’re in my house, you have to eat. That’s the rule.” She explained, standing off the couch. Carol was a fierce type of caretaker, one who saw a problem and hard-focused it until it no longer existed. As she stepped past Kris to make her way to the kitchen, a shaky hand grabbed her jacket’s wrist, stopping her gently.
Kris began to mumble with avoidant eyes and their best ‘polite young child’ voice. “May I. . . please. . . use your shower?” They mumbled, ruby-red eyes hidden behind messy hair that desperately needed a wash.
Fixing her jacket’s cuff, Carol quickly replied. “Yes, you may, Kris. Remember to keep it down. Towels are already in the washroom. If you want hot water, you may have to wait a moment.” Carol always took freezing showers. Told her husband they helped steel her nerves and wake her up in the morning. They also helped with college hangovers.
“Thnkyou. Ms. Holiday.” Kris mumbled, again with the intentionally lathered on polite facade.
“Please,” Carol didn’t buy it one bit. Toriel may insist on it, but Kris had never respected things like that unless forced to, or forcing themself to. “You know you may call me Carol.”
…
As Kris trembled up the stairs to the second floor of the mansion, their eyes drifted down the hall to two doors on the opposite side. Two rooms they used to be in all the time, but now the very thought made them feel even more lightheaded, stumbling on the last step and having to catch themselves at the top of the stairs. Slowly getting back up to gaze back towards them.
Dess’ room was empty. Untouched, except for today. Kris could only imagine Carol took a lot of care in setting it back to how it was after Kris and Susie moved some things around. She spent a lot of time maintaining the room. Talking about how it should always be exactly as it was left, for when she came back any day now. The housekeeper wasn’t even allowed to touch it. Only Carol. She slept in there sometimes, when the hours got too exhaustive and the regrets wouldn’t stop.
Looking into the painted over door made Kris’ head spin more. A splitting migraine piercing their skull like a nail. The weight of a sword gently pressed to their shoulder.
And then.. There was Noelle’s door, just beside it. The only thing between Kris and her. No, not at all. There were worlds between Kris and Noelle now. A fortress designed to keep her as far away as possible from all the nasty, terrible factors of Kris that were out there. To open that door would be to go back on a myriad of promises and choices that pricked at their head like pins. Letting her back into their horrible, ruinous life was something they’d tried to avoid for years, even if every day they no longer talked was another punch to the stomach.
And yet, in that moment, they find themselves reaching for the doorknob. Thinking about crawling inside and falling dead on the floor at her bedside. Collapsing in one final gasp for air so that when she wakes she’ll know their final moments were spent trying to close the distance between them. That–
Kris pauses the closer they get to the door. For a brief moment, it sounds like quiet clicking. Was that a keyboard? Oh Angel– was she still awake? Kris’ breath froze, stumbling back from the door. She must have music and headphones on, drowning out the outside world and unable to hear what’s going on. A breath of relief leaves Kris’ lips as they hurry down the hall towards the bathroom. Luckily, the house was big enough and the walls thick enough that anything short of a full-blooded scream wouldn’t be heard with loud enough music. The kind of loud music Noelle pretended she didn’t like in public but would share with Kris as they shared earbuds after school.
Dammit. Stop thinking about her.
…
Kris’ clothes, the clothes they had been wearing for most of the week save church, were neatly folded on the towel shelf next to the shower, the towel itself taken by Kris who was now thoroughly wrapped in it as steam from the heating-up shower began to soothe their skin. Crouching down at the cupboards below the sink and vanity, Kris scavenged in hair-care products for something. Scooting various holly jolly body washes and a blowdryer fit for fur aside, they finally found their sought-after prize at the very back. A spare case of apple shampoo the Holidays bought just for them for sleepovers. Still there, untouched, at the back of the cupboard.
Kris wondered if maybe anybody had thought about it in years. Then, noticed that it wasn't dusty. Somebody had taken it out and cleaned it off. Maybe even opened it.
They tried not to think about that too hard, even if the slightest idea of what that could mean felt like it threatened to set them on fire.
They opted to silently place the shampoo inside the shower on a shelf, dropping the towel to step inside. Hot water on their skin was a much-needed relief as they allowed themselves to lean against the side of the wall and just relax for a moment. Blisteringly hot water ran down Kris’ skin as steam fogged up the mirror and Kris’ phone’s screen on the vanity, and the feeling of heat enveloping them was enough to almost make them fall asleep standing up.
Sometimes, mostly on weekends where there was no school, Kris would sit back in the shower and just let the water rain onto them for hours if they could get away with it. Usually after 45 minutes Toriel would knock and ask if they’re okay, then after another 10 she would complain about the water bill. The feeling of surrendering themself to the deluge of heat, covered by the shadows of curtains, truly and entirely alone to think, was a rare comfort.
However, the knowledge that food lay at the end of this shower motivated Kris to not spend hours in their neighbor’s bathroom. Running fingers through their hair as they meticulously took care of it. Many people would assume somebody like Kris, from appearance alone, didn’t care about how they looked. That wasn’t true at all, Kris actually had a rigorous hair and skin care process to look as effectively disheveled as possible.
Kris had a lot of ideas about what to do with how they looked, and very little motivation or money to follow through. Toriel would never let them get piercings, makeup was a fun but tedious and oftentimes expensive hobby, and all they had to wear were Asriel’s hand-me-downs. It was something Kris stopped mourning quite some time ago, the idea that they could ever look unique. No point in crying over it. Grow up, they’d think.
But, in the privacy of this shower, the regret continues to seep in like black mold. Gnawing at Kris as they scrub soap over scarred arms littered with thin lines. Over fingers with nails they wish they got painted, but didn’t feel like the effort of asking Toriel and making a big deal of it. In the Dark World, Kris could look however they wanted. Even with the SOUL controlling their actions, it couldn’t control how they looked. The outfits were Kris’ to choose.
Out here, though, a Kris is just a Kris. A Kris that can’t do anything but push people away and skulk and follow orders. Kris may never look the way they want, or have the people they want, or ever act the way they want ever again, but they can at least set things right.
Stepping out of the shower, Kris was quick to wrap themselves back in a towel, staring themselves in the mirror as they dried off. It was almost strange properly seeing themselves like this again. Possessed, Kris’ eyes were wide open, alert, and approachable. Even hidden behind hair, the glimpses Susie would get were of a Kris that was attentive and wide-eyed. Now, the bags were showing, as were the tiny shrunken pupils. A foreign-feeling and hostile glare, staring itself back.
As Kris threw their striped sweater back on, they neglected to glance themselves in the mirror again. Their fatigue got the better of them as they nearly tumbled down the stairs with a misplaced foot, catching a hand to the railing and carefully taking each step down. It was easier this time without a wriggling SOUL in their hands.
Oh, something smells edible.
…
As Carol plated the pancakes she had just made, which now immediately felt much cooler than they had been on the stove, the kitchen door opened and Kris slunk inside, every footstep like a soft thud. Glancing over, she only needed the brief glimpse to look back to the plates and speak. “Feeling better?” She spoke, monotone.
In return, Kris gave an equally monotone “Mmhm.” and took a seat near the counter. Upon looking at the plate she’d prepared, that she was now applying syrup to, Kris’ head tilted. “..Pancakes?”
“Premade.” Carol, clarified. “I also noticed that while you were here earlier, you used our entire bottle of chocolate syrup.” Kris blushed in embarrassment a little when she brought that little tidbit up, looking away nervously. She continued, taking a fresh one out of the fridge. “I bought another. If you’re going to make a habit of dropping by again, at least it will be used.”
Kris wasted no time in stirring a glass of chocolate milk, that was then consumed with immense amounts of gusto. Just before they set down the glass, Carol slid the pancake stack over. They were usually heart-shaped, but that was when Carol had the time and effort to shape them herself. In their head, Kris was grateful they didn’t have to stare another heart in the face tonight, having purposefully avoided all of Carol's collected heart-shaped trinkets.
As Carol began to fix herself a pot of coffee, Kris dug in their back pocket for the knife they carried around. It’s been stained black and was worn from the creation of fountains. What used to be a sparkly silver sheen was now faded a darker grey, reflecting a dark grey Kris in the blade. Looking at it only served to remind Kris of the truth, of how they were lying to everyone, of how everything they did was hiding this stained blade. Kris’ hand trembled slightly as they held it.
Still, it was sharp enough to cut pancakes. Carol shot a confused and slightly judgemental look as Kris stabbed the stack and pulled off a chunk, lifting it to their mouth as they took a bite. As they chewed, they could hear Carol mutter under her breath.
“We have silverware..” She sighs, pouring herself a cup of coffee that will help carry her through the rest of the night. She can’t remember the last time she got a full night’s sleep. It was certainly a rarity after Dess disappeared, and she knows Kris feels similar. She stepped over to refill their glass with milk so they could mix more chocolate in, watching as they scarfed down cold pancakes like they were ambrosia.
The air got even more frigid than it normally was as she put her arms on the counter opposite Kris, looking to try and find those twinkling eyes behind their hair. Catching a glimpse of them as Kris briefly looked up from eating, she began to speak. “I’d like to say again how grateful I am for what you’re doing for my family, Kris.”
Kris stopped chewing, and swallowed back food as their head hung. “I know.”
Carol continued, taking a sip of coffee that was losing heat rapidly every second, just the way she liked it. “And I trust that you weren’t able to find any shelter codes today? Despite the. . . run-in with the guitar.” Her voice, which was always monotone and drab, dropped in pitch drastically. Kris’ skin shivered.
They shook their head, then reached for their third glass of chocolate milk.
“Kris. You’re going to get a stomach-ache.” She warned, but it did nothing to deter them. With another sigh, Carol continued speaking. “Regardless, that’s good. Try and see to it that that continues. Our investigation will not be impeded.”
The kitchen went silent from there for far too long. Thoughts plagued the inside of Kris’ head like a whirling hurricane of half-truths and flat-out lies. How much they were wrapped up in something they’d grown to despise doing. How much they wanted to come clean about everything, to everyone, and how selfish they felt for wanting that. Don’t forget, Kris. You promised. That phrase, whispered over the phone by a voice they just couldn’t refuse, echoed in their head as they dismally drank a fourth glass and finished the first pancake in the stack.
To break the awkward and uncomfortable silence as the dead of night still filled the windows peering outside, Carol spoke up again. “Are you going to the festival later today?” She asked, calmly and un-emotional.
Kris nearly spat up their sip, jerking a little in their seat. The festival. After so much time spent trying not to think about it, and the whole drama that was earlier today when Susie was over here, that blissful ignorance was shattered for the last time. Was Kris going to the festival? Of course. It would make them. Force them to smile and suffer through it all, as the world’s friendliest third wheel. The thought made them nauseous, downing another glass of chocolate milk and reaching for the carton Carol had just set on the counter before she slid it away.
“I’m cutting you off. You’re going to make yourself sick.” She scolded, noticing how queasy and on-edge the human was. She wasn’t made of stone or stupid, she realized quickly how the question made the mood shift. However, feelings aren’t important right now. If it were up to their feelings, their inner judgements, none of this would work. It’s for the greater good, after all, and that’s usually uncomfortable to accomplish.
Finishing her own cup of coffee, Carol began to speak words that filled the human with more and more dread in place of where their heart was. “I’d like it if you went with Noelle. I’m not thrilled about her going with Susie. I’ve tried to talk her out of it, but I don’t think she’s going to listen to me. I need you to make sure they stay out of trouble, and that she does not bring up anything related to the Shelter’s codes. Do you understand, Kris?”
Kris pawed at another chunk of pancake skewered by their knife, eating it off the blade slowly and swallowing it down with a quiet “Yes, ma’am.” They felt gross. That may have just been the fatigue getting worse, though. They’ve been awake far too long and active without a SOUL. Kris should leave, fast, before she begins to see the worst effects of it.
“I said you can call me Carol.” Her gaze was a little narrower now, a twinge of what might be worry behind those always angry-looking eyes. Suddenly, Kris pushed their seat away and stood up, holding onto the counter for balance as Carol recognized the body language. “Ah. Leaving already?”
Kris nodded, and turned to exit the dining area as Carol took their plate and glass and moved them to the sink. Before they left, Kris stopped in the doorway and muttered a quiet “Thank you for the food and shower.”
“You’re welcome, Kris. Be safe.” Was all she said in response, and the two parted ways wordlessly after that. No more needed to be said.
Kris paused in the living room for a moment, lingering in the silence to try and see if they could hear any more of that quiet keyboard clacking coming from behind Noelle’s door, but it was either too quiet to hear from downstairs, or it was all in their head and she really had been asleep. Kris chose to believe the latter, as any chance she knew they were over was a risk that threatened to eat them alive with thought. Then, with a tiny sigh, Kris opened the door outside.
…
The forest outside was cold and quieter than usual. There used to be the sound of bugs, of birds, and animals hidden in the bushes out here. Now it was just Kris, empty space, and trees. The moon hung overhead as they shivered and gripped their elbows with the opposite arm’s hands, stumbling through the branches on the ground and roots growing through frigid dirt as the shadows went on endlessly in every direction.
There was one more person to meet with before the night was over.
A rush of wind signified the need to stop immediately. Coming to a complete halt, Kris dropped to one knee and kneeled.
A cold, hard surface graced their shoulder, the flat edge of a blade. Winds roared around the human as the Knight made itself known to them, ragged breathing exposed to outside ears as its helmet was removed. Thick, black antlers jutting from the top of its head and mixing with the dark silhouettes of branches against the dark blue, almost black sky. Eyes hidden by a slightly-worn black baseball cap and pale, matted, washed-out fur. Teeth and gums inside a snout exposed from rot. Dark hair that used to be lively and had a shine to it was now draped at the shoulders and over the eyes under the hat’s brim, ragged and unkempt much like Kris’ own.
Kris tried not to look. Still, the image would not leave their sight. It hadn’t for years.
It slowly moved the blade away from Kris shoulder and signaled them to stand, stepping back as Kris continued to stare at the floor, a ghastly voice rasping out from a worn throat.
“So. . . . glad you could. . . . make it, Kris.” Each word sounded like torture. Kris’ skin ran with goosebumps and their heart wrenched with anxiety. Listening to her sound like this was one of the worst sensations ever.
“Let’s. . . discuss. . . the plan.”
Kris swallowed back and nodded silently. The sun was going to rise soon, and they needed to be home for when the SOUL awoke again. Even moreso, needed to be home for the festival’s beginning. Needed to find Susie. Needed to..
Who were they kidding? That wasn’t what they needed to do. That was for the other Kris. The likable one. The one that doesn’t lie.
This.. this is what Kris does. The walking corpse in the dead of night. The one who lies to people’s faces and pushes them away. This was all they needed to do. As the Knight turned to walk into the dark of the forest towards the Shelter, Kris followed. As the door opened and darkness briefly spilled into the sky as the Knight entered, Kris followed, and their dream of being a person ever again was tossed aside for a promise.