Challenges!!

Kross Week [Day 1] | Memories

HELL YEAHHHHH I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO KROSS WEEK

-----------------

Cross respected that Killer wanted to pretend it never happened. He knew how it felt to want to avoid the past, and he knew how shitty it felt when it still came bubbling back up. When it consumed you entirely and there was nothing you could do but ride it out. He understood it, hell, he's lived through it. And if Killer wanted to keep his baggage locked up tightly, who was Cross to rummage through it? He had no right to Killer's problems, and Killer didn't want him involved in them. And, even though he knows Killer will bounce right back, even though it won't last more than two days, it's still terrifying. It keeps him up at night, the idea that Killer's losing his mind all over again.

Perhaps it's because Cross had his own nights that he was so worried. He knew exactly how it felt to have the ghosts of his past clawing their way out to scream and wail and plead. The phantom pains of death, the echoes of their slashing knives and hateful intent. The looping agony of his SOUL tearing apart and meshing with the Human's.

Cross had a feeling Killer's living nightmares weren't so different from his. Yet they must be so much worse. Cross's episodes aren't exactly rare. As spotty and irregular as they may be, they still happen consistently. It hadn't even been a week since his last one, for fucks sake. But Killer? It took months for him to crumble. In all the years Cross knew him, Killer's only had breakdowns six times. It was impressive. For someone as unstable as Killer, he was rather longwinded when it came to this.

"It's not a competition," Killer chuckled. Cross purred at the caressing touch against his sore back, his response choppy, "I know... But if it was though.. mmmm, I'm pretty sure you'd win." Killer's laugh was loud and abrasive, rough, juxtaposed with the gentle affection of his massaging hands. Cross smiled to himself, proud to have gotten Killer to laugh, even though it wasn't exactly a challenge to do so. "The one time you only ever admit that I'm a winner," Killer snorted, "is when comparing trauma?" Cross's smile turned sheepish, and Killer let out another bout of charming laughter.

Cross fiddled with his necklace, clicking the locket open and closed repeatedly, the memory of Killer's laughter in his thoughts feeling like a mockery of the soul-wrenching sobbing on the other side of the wall. Cross had always thought it weird how laughter sounded so similar to crying. He pushed the comparison aside, turning over in bed for the umpteenth time.

The silly little alarm clock, that Killer absolutely adored beyond reason, read 2:53 A.M. Cross sighed, reaching out to run his finger around the circumference of a groove in the box. In four hours, a mouse would pop out of this. Cross hated it, but Killer had been so ecstatic to find the crappy thing in his gyftmas presents. Cross couldn't bear to tell him no when he asked to put it in their room.

"Crossy, crossy, lookit 'em!" Killer's bright smile widened as he once again showed Cross how the contraption worked. The poorly hidden circular disk on the top of the plastic thing snapped to the side, a tiny plastic mouse popping out from the hole. A second later, the much larger lid across from it flew open and a cat's paw began to smack the surface of the alarm. A crappy audio recording screeched from somewhere in the box, a generic cat yowl playing on loop. Killer pressed the mouse down, shutting off the horrid noise, gushing about how much he loved it. Cross couldn't bear to tell him no when he asked to put it in their room.

A heavy slam startled Cross from his slight doze. Killer must've started throwing things.

Cross clicked his locket closed, and sat up, throwing on some clothes. MishMish leapt off the bed after him, yelling at him for food, though his cries went ignored. The tricky feline had eaten already recently, and Cross knew how Killer was about his cats' feeding routine. Feeding them too much would make them unhealthy. So, impressively ignoring MishMish's yowling, Cross left him and Killer's shared bedroom and made straight for the kitchen.