Take Me Home.

Chapter 2: I Was Painting a Picture

Killer sat in silence on the unfamiliar bed. It felt too wrong. It was too cold, too thin, too small-- But that was just his mind playing tricks on him, so he sighed. At least the furnishing wasn't the same.

His head rose when Cross opened the door. "Hey, Kills? You doing alright?" Killer made a halfhearted attempt at a smile.

"You don't have to smile for me, Kills. I'm here for you. If you don't wanna talk about it though, it's fine. Do you need anything?"

He was quiet for a moment, the 'smile' falling. Hesitantly, he shook his head, and Cross only nodded. "That's okay. It must be hard.. I wasn't there long enough to truly get used to the castle, and then here you are, in basically a replica. I'm sorry about that, but on the bright side, you don't have to be worried about anything anymore. No strict schedules, no harsh rules, no punishments. Just us, together, and against the world. Against him."

Killer could only nod, though his thoughts were elsewhere. Regardless of what Cross said, his thoughts were spiraling like a race, mind running on and on about fears. He almost flinched when he felt warmth, only to realize it was just Cross, pulling him into a hug, before letting go.

The phantom feeling of his arms still around made Killer shiver a little. It felt like it lasted too short, though he said nothing about it. "Dream told me that he wouldn't be bothering us for awhile, if that's okay with you? He wants us to get used to being here, and be able to collect ourselves, so it'll just be the two of us."

At that a small smile formed. But it felt so empty.

All it'd do is remind me of how much I missed Dust and Horror.

Horror, who'd always be in the kitchen half of the time, being a sweetheart and making sure we ate. And Dust, who didn't stray too far away from Horror. Those two were always a pair, after all.

Killer felt guilty, even, for not taking the two. He worried. What was happening to them now? Were they hurt?

But if he took them, then it'd only increase the chances of him chasing after us. After all, we're only half of the team. He can just use the rest. ..But he'll end up overworking them..

At that, Killer's smile fell. What was he doing here? In the comfort of a place that welcomed him freely.

Killer knew that Dust cared for Horror as much as he did Cross.

He would've left in a heartbeat if he knew of somewhere like this. He probably would've even died for it if it meant Horror could be safe from Nightmare's clutches.

And yet here Killer was, squandering this chance because he was so picky and selfish.

They should've just left without him instead. A voice said.

Yes, that made sense. I was his right hand man. All he needed was me, really. The rest were pawns, replacements, toys. With me, he could have all the fun he wanted.

..

And then days passed, and he sat restlessly.

He looked out the window. He knew he shouldn't go out there but he couldn't help it. He wasn't made to sit inside all day. He was made to fight, to explore, to journey, and staying cooped up in here was going against every part of his being.

..But if he were to get Cross to come along..- It was dangerous. He couldn't risk harming his sunflower like that.

Plus, who said he had to know?

So he put his hood up. Who knows what time it was, but what he did know was that it was late. Late to the point of where Cross would be asleep.

Of course, we didn't share beds. Not rooms either, but they were close to each other. We needed.. Time, first, before we could start being all touchy and stuff. So then he shortcut into the forest that was a little bit identical to Nightmare's, though it was the one circling Dream's, and was filled with flowers, the trees as green and vibrant as they could be due to how healthy it was.

Maybe Killer could come here with Cross in the future to pick some flowers, or maybe just give them as a gift. Dream wouldn't mind anyway, they were just a few flowers in a forest full of em, and if he really wanted them back, then he could just grow more.

Perks of being the positive twin, because his aura just made everything so much more healthy and happy. Except me, of course. His aura always unsettled me, but Nightmare's had definitely taken the cake for who's scared me the most.

What was he thinking of again? Ah, right. Flowers. What were Cross' favorites? Killer didn't think he ever told, so he supposed he could just take the prettiest.

He knelt down onto the grass, kneeling down as he reached a hand out to wrap around a flower's stem, pulling it out and snapping the ends of almost carelessly. If Horror was around, he'd probably be horrified at how messily Killer did it, not trying to be careful at all, and give him a lecture on how flowers are still living organisms and stuff.

Missed the guy, he did.

Now that he thought about it though, he didn't have anywhere to put a flower.

Maybe Dream just has flower pots just conveniently around his castle.

Hopefully-?

But ehh, it was just a flower anyway. Cross would appreciate the gesture, even if it ended up dying before or after it was given.

He stuffed it into his pocket, looking around, but there also wasn't much to look at. His soul didn't light up much of the way, anyways, so he leaned against the tree, the rough surface keeping him tense. He hadn't wanted to go back, not yet. Maybe even go a little farther.

And before he knew it, he was trapped in darkness.

He could barely see.

Killer shook his head, hesitantly moving his soul farther from his chest to use as a light. At least it wasn't fully dark, and the moon was out.

He used to watch the moon with Nightmare, and he noticed quite quickly that he seemed to get stronger during the night. More specifically, when the moon was out. Killer was always more obedient at the mention of a moon, knowing every threat he had he would do, and he didn't let go of those who wronged him easily.

He shivered, feeling almost strings wrapping around him, tugging, pulling at him to head somewhere. In his lostness, he hardly noticed when his feet started to take him somewhere new, as if almost on memory. Killer was knocked out of it when he suddenly noticed the eye light of someone who he recognized oh so much, and he froze up, feeling like his breath had been knocked out of him, frozen up like a statue.