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Things have been weird with Kris lately. Or maybe… I made things weird. I didn’t mean to! But maybe I overstepped. They’ve never liked talking about their personal problems, especially when it comes to their family, so I know I shouldn’t have asked. But… when Dess… Kris has always been there for me, even when I didn’t realize it. Even when I didn’t deserve it… I just want to do the same thing for them. I wish I could do for them even half of what they do for me. But I’ve never been good at knowing what to do for someone when they’re upset. That was always Kris’ area of expertise.
Everyone else kind of assumed Kris was a bully to me. That is what it would look like to anyone who doesn’t know how… special we are. When they do things like hide under my bed to scare me, or pretend to rip their heart out to chase me around with it, or shake the ferris wheel car right when we’re at the top! …Okay, I admit that doesn’t sound good out of context. But Kris understands me in a way that most people just don’t. They know things about me that even my own father might be shocked by. For one thing, they know that a good scare is enough to completely distract me from my real worries. Like hearing my mom and Dess arguing in the other room while Kris just happens to be under my bed; or being sad about not winning festival queen while we were riding the ferris wheel. Or like when they pretended to take their own heart out! …Actually I think they were just playing a game that time. But it was pretty fun!! Fahaha I remember laughing until my sides split as they chased me all around the house. It was honestly a great time even though I was shriekin’ bloody murder!
People just don’t understand what exactly it is that we have. Even my own parents don’t really get it. Mom always insists that we’re ‘such a cute couple’ even though that word is… not nearly enough. I can’t actually remember a time in my life without Kris. Well… except for… well that’s their story to tell, if they ever want to. The point is, Kris isn’t just my ‘partner’ or whatever. Something like that almost feels trivial compared to what we have; what we’ve always had. They were the first person to start using my correct pronouns… Faha in fact, they started using them before I even told them. Even Dess assumed Kris was just picking on me, but I could tell. It was like they already knew. And, naturally, I was the first person to start using their pronouns in turn. They never actually officially came out to me, but they never needed to.
It’s not just knowing each other though. We’re also comfortable around each other. Some might say a little too comfortable… Monsters kind of have a thing about being pet. We’re not animals! You can’t just come up to us and start stroking us like we are! Except for dog monsters. They flippin’ love being pet! But Kris… I dunno it just kinda started happening. We were watching a movie and my head was in their lap, because where else would it be? And they kinda started playin’ with my hair and it felt really nice so I just didn’t say anything. And then they just kinda started absentmindedly stroking my hair, and that also felt really nice. And then it was sorta like we both just realized at the same time what they were doing and they kinda froze with their hand there and I just looked at them. And we stared at each other for a long time with our eyes wide but… at some point we both just kind of settled down and they went right back to it and I just let them. I let them because I liked it and I wanted them to keep doing it. In fact, I never wanted them to stop, and I still don’t.
And then I started petting them… They always wanted to be a monster. They never said it out loud, and I never even hinted that I knew that to be the case but, of course, neither of us needed to. And well… Kris is already so freakin’ puppy-coded that it just made sense. We were up late, having a sleepover, watching a sitcom. Their head was in my lap, because where else would it be? It started with me tucking their hair behind their ear, an innocent enough gesture at first; I only wanted to see their eyes, just a glimpse of those sweet, cherry bombs that they hide from everyone else, and I would go back to watching the show. But then I saw their ear and, on a whim, I decided to scratch behind their ear. To seemingly the surprise of both of us, they immediately started happily kicking their leg. We both froze at the same time and stared at each other for not nearly as long as the last time, and we both laughed. We went right back to watching the show and I went right back to petting their hair and scratching their head. From that day forward, it was a regular habit of ours to pet one another when we were together. Sometimes we would meet up just for a quick pet before scampering off each on our own again; sometimes in public. We would never go out of our way to flaunt it, but we would also never make an effort to hide it. Surely it looks beyond bizarre to everyone else but… well as I’ve said, they just don’t quite understand. That’s not to say we do everything in public, of course; some things are just for us. Like Kris’ pension for acting like a dog, whimpering, begging, and sometimes barking… They like to paw at my door sometimes while I’m getting ready and it always gives me enough of a laugh that getting dressed takes even longer. They never care. They even like to lie on their back sometimes while I give them tummy rubs, but I think they might actually lose the will to live if anyone were to walk in on us doing that.
Then of course, there’s the hand-holding. Just thinking about it now is enough to make my face feel hot in spite of the chilly, January air. For all of the things we have that are just for us, that one is especially only ours. I don’t even remember how it started or when we decided to keep it secret. I just remember we were little kids exploring the woods and they were holding my hand every single time. Then they were holding it in my room during sleepovers, or under the moonlight by the lake, or in the closed-off car of a ferris wheel. It feels right every time, their fingers interlocked with mine and the gentle sway they do with our arms when we’re walking together at night, or the way they stroke the fur on the back of my hand with their thumb.
There’s also… I let out an involuntary sigh and I watch the fog rise. I’m the only one they’re willing to take their sweater off around. They don’t wear anything scandalous underneath; just a simple collared shirt with short sleeves. But I don’t think they like to show their arms to anyone else; both because they want people to forget that they don’t have fur, and because… Well their mom would worry anyway. Sometimes they let me take the time to tend to their fresh wounds and change their old bandages. I chose Cat Petterz bandages to try and make it all look a little… happier. I bought them lots of bracelets and wristbands once, in all different shapes, sizes, and colors. When they opened the box and saw them all, they didn’t say anything, but the next time they took their sweater off, they were wearing every single one underneath. I laughed, but they started pouting, so I stopped and assured them that I thought it was sweet; then I helped them pick out a bunch of different combinations so they could mix and match. It was so fun! We spent all night sorting bracelets together.
Kris is so closed off from everyone else, but they trust me. They’re even willing to dress up with me and let me do their makeup. Though, I don’t think they’d ever allow themself to be seen in public wearing makeup or dresses. I think they’re worried that someone might see them and suddenly think it validates placing them squarely in a box when they don’t belong in one. Still, it’s a shame… I always thought they looked lovely dolled up. With a plaintive glance at Kris’ house as I walk past their front drive, I confirm what I already expected; their bedroom light is off, which means they’re not home. My mind begins to wander again as I continue on my walk.
We don’t kiss. That’s not to say we never have, or never do. We tried it a couple of times when we were kids. Once when we were five and we caught Dess and Azzy doing it right before. We both had our eyes closed and we bumped heads when we leaned in. My laughter at the silly memory is the only sound in an otherwise silent night. Even when we did get it right on the second attempt, neither of us really understood what was supposed to happen; we thought we must’ve done it wrong. We started nuzzling each other instead, and that felt a lot more right. But that got significantly more embarrassing as we got older, so we made a conscious effort to never nuzzle around anybody else.
The next time we tried kissing, we were a few years older. We were at another sleepover and, by that point, our relationship had already taken a noticeable turn that neither of us could ignore. It was Halloween and we had both dumped all of our candy into a shared pile. Kris and I both reached for the same chocolate bar at the same time and they accidentally wrapped their hand around mine. I stared at them for a few seconds and they just leaned in and did it. It was nice… but it was also not quite right, and we both understood that immediately. They looked like they were about to apologize at the time but I shoved some candy corn into their mouth, and I kissed their cheek before they could protest. Their cheeks flushed and we both realized at once that a cheek kiss was worth far more than one on the lips. I never told them this, but I saw them reaching for the candy bar that night. I reached in at the same time, knowing it would make them take my hand. I didn’t realize it would make them kiss me, but I’m glad it did. It was really nice in the moment, despite the fact that it’s not really our thing. Now anything more than a cheek kiss is a rare occasion for us, which only really makes it feel more special in a way. My cheeks flush as I think about the last time we did it, but in spite of that, I still feel colder as I remember the circumstances of that kiss.
I slow my pace as I walk past Catti’s house, casting a sad glance at her bedroom window. She used to be close with Kris and I as well. I used to think maybe she had a crush on them because she was always spending time with us. But I didn’t mind because I like Catti, and I’ve never felt threatened by her; I know I’m the only monster Kris wants. I thought that would be the end of it, but one day Catti decided to give me a makeover. She said she needed to use a photo of me for her album, so she totally decked me out in goth makeup and black clothes. She seemed to really like how it turned out, but when she left the room for a moment, all I could think about was how nervous Kris seemed. They had been staring at me nonstop from the moment Catti finished doing my makeup.When I asked them what was wrong, they simply strode across the room, took my face in their hands, and did something that they so rarely do. Catti walked in just as they were pulling their face away from mine. The fallout was unpleasant; neither of us knows how we would apologize, nor do we particularly want to, and I’m sure Catti wouldn’t want to hear it either. With a sigh, I pick up my pace and try to steer my thoughts in another direction.
Kris doesn’t like nicknames. Like, for anyone. They don’t really care if someone else uses a nickname; it would be weird if they did, considering basically everyone in our combined families have some form of nickname. But they won’t use them themself; they only ever call Asriel and December by their given names. All this to say, of course, that it’s different with me. I’m the only person they ever use a nickname with, and they’re the only person who could ever get away with calling me ‘Elly’. Which is why they never call me that if anyone else is around to hear it. I don’t have a nickname for them, nor would I ever want to come up with one. In my mind, they’re just Kris, and they’ll always be Kris. Calling them anything else would just be wrong. But still… even though I don’t have a special nickname for them like they do for me, that doesn’t make the sentiment between us any different. Because I’m wrong to say that they’re ‘just Kris’ because they’re not; they’re my Kris. And nobody can take that away from us.
With a bit of effort, I manage not to look at Mr. Dreemurr’s shop with pity as I walk by. I wish things were easier for him; I’ve always liked Mr. Dreemurr. He was the first and only person to walk in on Kris and I acting like something more than friends, and surprisingly he seemed to understand. Kris seemed really embarrassed at the time, especially when he noticed that we were nuzzling and started talking about his own previous Nuzzling records that he and Kris’ mom achieved when they were together. Despite that, he promised not to tell anybody, and he never brought it up to us again; so from that day on, Kris and I always felt safe to behave how we wanted when hanging out at The Flower King.
With a huff and a puff, I trudge past the treeline behind Mr. Dreemurr’s home and savor the way the icy, night air slices through my lungs. I rather enjoy the pain; it hurts in a way that is oddly familiar and almost comforting to me. I used to sit in a cold bath long enough to soak and then go stand outside in the snow so I could know what it was like to be frozen, just for a little while. Kris didn’t like that I was doing that once they found out though. They wanted to tell me to stop, but they didn’t feel like they had a right considering all that they do to themself. So we made a deal; I would stop doing that for as long as they’re able to stop using their knife on themself. Since then, it’s been a habit for them to come over every night before bed so I could check their arms and make sure there’s nothing fresh. They act like it’s such an inconvenience to them, but I think we both know this is best for us, and I can tell that Kris is happy to feel like they have an excuse now to stop hurting themself, and happy to be the reason that I’ve stopped as well.
As I approach the lake, I smile softly when I see a familiar silhouette standing by the water. I don’t make a sound as I approach but they notice me anyway. It’s like they could sense my presence, which is nothing new for them. They’ve always had a ‘Noelle-sense’ that makes it nearly impossible to scare them the way they scare me. They turn to look at me and I stare breathlessly as their crimson irises glow in the dim moonlight. With a sad smile, I tease them lightheartedly. “You were supposed to come over tonight… It’s not nice to keep a girl waiting.”
They look away from me and let their hair fall back to cover their face, and I step closer to them, closing the distance between us with the only sounds to be heard coming from my footsteps in the crunchy snow, and the icy waves rolling back and forth and crashing into the beach. When I’m just a few inches away from them, I reach out with a hand to caress their face. Their eyes water as I warm their frozen cheeks with my fur. I whisper just loud enough for them to hear over the waves. “You know you don’t need to say anything out loud that you don’t want to. If you never want to talk about something, that’ll always be okay.” They try to turn away from me again but my hand holds firm, and they instead give a single nod. I continue. “But you also know that that’ll never mean that I’ll stop worrying about you, right? That I’m always going to try and be there for you through hard times, even when you don’t want to acknowledge them?” They lower their gaze and I lift their head up higher, brushing a thumb across their chapped lips. When their eyes glisten with tears again and they open their mouth to speak, I place a finger against their lips to silence them. And I lean in and whisper in a voice that’s far too soft and tender to be my own. I speak three words that are so rarely spoken between the two of us, because it rarely feels necessary to do so. And I lean in even closer and do something equally rare.
When I pull away from them, my eyes are still closed because I don’t want to see the rest of the world yet. Not when I just got to see their face right against my own; when I just got the privilege of gazing into their eyes so deeply that nobody else could ever hope to know the intricate shade and tiny speckles of color across them as intimately as I do. I keep my eyes closed so that, for just a moment, the only other thing in the world right now can be Kris. And it works. When I hear their voice, it’s all I hear, and all I need to hear. Nothing else matters when they speak. “I love you too, Elly.”