My Friend Over the Phone

Chapter 32

!WARNING! This chapter contains:

Brief implications of self-harm 

 "Dust, come on! It's okay-!"

    "NO IT'S NOT!!"

    Dust continued sobbing, keeping a firm hold on Horror's favourite axe as he mumbled frantically to himself. Dream and Nightmare had told him what might've happened to Horror, and he's been miserable ever since. Killer was standing above where Dust has been sitting on the floor under a blanket, trying and failing to wean down his endless tears. Killer sighed, knowing a bit too well how horrible we was with sympathizing with people, but he wasn't able to say no to Dream when he pleaded him to try. He knew that Dream hated using his aura on people, and he was busy helping Nightmare find Ink anyway.

Killer sighed, plopping down on the floor next to him. He couldn't see his eye sockets as his hood drooped over them, but he could see tears running down his round cheekbones and silently dripping onto the hardwood floor of his newly constructed home. He eventually relied on non-verbal comfort, awkwardly side-hugging him.

He felt him flinch at the sudden contact, but Dust didn't push him away. After a few awkward moments and Killer seriously considering pulling back, Dust leaned into him, repositioning Horror's axe so he doesn't hurt him. He sniffed. It seems his tears finally began to subside, even if just a little. He hiccuped every two or three words as he spoke. "Thanks, Killer.. I know how uncomfortable you get when people are sad..." Killer felt his soul shake and distort. He hated seeing his friends like this, it always made him somber too. White rings appeared in his usually empty sockets as he looked Dust over. Things haven't been so good for them as of late, have they? "It's okay. I know this is hard for you."

Dust smiled. "You're the best. I'm so glad to have you as my friend." Killer gave a soft smile in return. "Of course, we need to stick together." Dust jumped as the thunder boomed outside. "Hmm...How do you feel about some hot chocolate?" Killer asked. Dust quietly nodded, pulling back so Killer could get up without much trouble. "Cool, I'll turn on this fancy-looking electric kettle you got here." Dust giggled. Killer smiled as he heard it. He could feel his soul numbing again as he felt things even begin to back to normal. That was fine. He'd learned to accept his state of being a long time ago. He even praised it, in times like these, or else he probably would've been in a state similar to Dust's at the moment. He finally found where the mugs were and placed two of them on the counter. "Go sit on a couch or something, man! There's no way that hardwood floor is comfortable!" He yelled outside of the kitchen, where he was greeted by a muffled groan before he heard the shuffling of Dust's blanket, that had lots of wear and tear, the previously soft, purple fabric stained with dried blood. Dust insisted on keeping it regardless of being fully able to just steal another one, so Killer didn't question him. He peeked out of the kitchen, and Dust was thankfully sitting on the couch. He saw a tiny smile show from under his hood.

Killer was glad he was at least a little happy.

Meanwhile, Dream sat at a desk in his and his brother's old bungalow, which he had since refurnished with mostly yellow and grey furniture and decor. He stared, concerned at the checklist of AU's in front of him. He and Nightmare were working hard to find Ink, wherever he may be. So many AU's were crossed off already. Where in the Multiverse could that crazy artist be? He was getting worried. Did it have something to do with their conversation a few months ago? Was he mad at him or something? Ink didn't get mad that often though, quite the opposite really. Maybe he felt...