Unrequited LOVE

•Chapter 7•

The damage was evident as soon as you entered the skeleton's pocket. Sure enough, there was a large hole - spanning from floor to ceiling - in the side of the house.

"What the hell happened here?" You looked to Nightmare, who'd been leaning agaist the undamaged part of the wall, for answers.

The goopy skeleton shrugged. "Horror happened."

I should have known...

"I see," you approached the wall, surveying the damage. "But how did he happen?"

"...I'm not exactly sure," he admitted with a hint of regret. "I suppose I should have asked earlier, but can you fix it?"

"I did build this place," you joked, producing your spellbook from your pocket.

Nightmare looked on in veiled curiosity as you recited the correct spell. The hole began to mend itself; crumbling plaster becoming smooth as the broken planks floated to their rightful places. "I haven't seen magic like that in a long time."

You took a moment to admire your handiwork. "Yeah?"

He didn't elaborate. 

"All finished. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Come over more often."

You paused. "Come again?"

"That's what I said, dummy," the look on his face was unreadable, though you understood the request just fine. "...Well?"

You pretended to think it over (even though the answer was clear). "Sure, Nightmare."

The skeleton nodded slowly. He walked to the door and used one of his tentacles to open it. "Horror wanted to bake with you again."

You hesitated. "Right now?"

Nightmare's uncovered eyelight constricted. "We don't have all day."

"Heh, of course," you grinned and followed him inside.

I think I've misjudged you, Nightmare.

***

Nightmare couldn't quite place why he invited you over. Perhaps it was because Horror liked you in a non-cannibalistic way (what a shocker) or Killer had admitted to gartering enjoyment in simply watching you (not creepy at all...).

It also appeared that their 'mission' was a far-fetched success. Moral was slipping from their phalanges like sand and their freedom seemed galaxies away.

Maybe not with (Y/n) here.

Her name felt weird, even though he was only thinking it. She wasn't a threat - that much was clear - but her presence confused him. Who did she think she was?! A savior?

Which morphed into; Who do I feel at ease around her?

It was a combination of feelings he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Despite being the 'guardian of negativity', he sure felt a lot of positive feelings.

Dream was wrong.

His crew - Horror, Dust, and Killer - was no longer just a 'crew'. They were a family.

A wacky, murderously-inclined family.

And Nightmare would do anything to protect them. No matter what.

...but you, you were an enigma; shaking their walls, single-handedly toppling their castles of solitude...

He couldn't tell if that was a bad thing or not.

***

Horror liked you because you brought food. Not just that, but you brought food on time.

You were also a good cook. He really, really liked that.

If he was being honest, the trauma of surviving a famine lessened when he was around you. He couldn't change who he was, but something told him you wouldn't mind that.

You were willingly hanging out with him, after all.

"And then we mix six cups of brown sugar," you were saying, measuring cup in hand. "Horror?"

He blinked, realizing that he'd spaced out again. "...sorry."

You smiled up at him. "Don't be. Do you know where the brown sugar is?"

"i will get it," he padded over to one of the cabinets and opened it, producing the requested ingredient. You took it with a genuine grin.

"Thanks, Horror."

...He wanted to see you smile like that again.

"...no problem."

You poured the correct amount of sugar into the mixing bowl. A strange feeling tugged at his SOUL. It felt warm, reassuring, like a cup of hot chocolate on a frigid day.

Horror wondered if it was you who'd caused it. It probably was - for it only appeared when you were around.

Recently, though, such feelings had become a problem. He couldn't think when you were in the room. Even stranger, his interest in your wings bordered obsession, thus requiring him to physically restrain himself from petting you.

Horror was sure you couldn't appreciate such contact. (When did he start caring about others' feelings?)

"Um, Horror?"

Crap, he must have zoned out again.

"You can touch my wings if you want, I don't mind."

...what? 

***

Ooooo, interesting. I wonder what'll happen next.