Dust's beginning and fall

Chapter 1: Together

The cigarette stench had ruined the couch. Paps was one to smoke, but he always got rid of evidence of him doing so. Their guest though did not. Blue had brought him in, saying he was in need of help and a old friend of his. Dust he was. Blue had known Dust for a long time, way before Dust became what he was now: A husk of what he used to be. Way before he had named himself "Dust".

One night, Dust knocked on Blue's door, his small figure shaking. He was smaller than blue, who was already drastically short. Dust smelt like the couch itself: The smell of depression, cigarettes, and hopelessness. Blue figured, one day, Dust and him will have to talk about Dust's smoking problems.

"What you need classic?" Blue asked, getting an irritated reaction from Dust. The door was opened wide to welcome Dust in.

"I wanna sleep with you..." Dust said quietly. He was a soft-spoken person, yet he had an aggressive voiced-tone when he said, "Don't call me classic ever again." That wasn't the name he felt corresponded to him. Classic was dead. Classic would never hurt others the way Dust did.

"Sorry...Dust." Blue offers his hand, and Dust grips it intensely. Sometimes, Dust was like a clingy koala to Blue. He guided Dust to his bed, that was a race car; Blue's bed was very similar to Dust's papyrus' bed. It gave Dust memories of his paps. Ones of when papyrus was just being himself. Good memories. Blue rests in his bed, bringing Dust in with him. He wrapped his arms around Dust to comfort the other he was there. It was important for Dust to know what was real and what wasn't an illusion. That was what the therapist said.

Dust was calm, already feeling better being in Blue's arms than on the couch alone. This was the only happy place he could have now. Any other happy place he use to have was in his au, but Dust swore to never go back. His au had only death and emptiness now. It wasn't home anymore; Hopefully, Blue's home could be Dust's new home. It wasn't depressing or desolate like where he use to be. Staying there was just a constant reminder to horrid experiences.

Blue strokes Dust's skull, before raising the question, "Have you been taking your meds, Dust?" Blue been getting medication for Dust from undyne. They helped, but were temporary until undyne could build something better, that would help with dust's biggest problem: hallucinations. For the mean time, the medicine was all they had.

Dust didn't reply to the question, which meant that was a 'no'. He despised the medication he had to take to decrease his 'conditions'. It made him feel numb and dull inside, as if he wasn't already feeling the lack of sensibility.

"Dust, it's for your own good, please take your meds more. I care for you," Blue said, with a voice of concern. It was good someone cared. Who knows what would happen if Dust was left alone in a place that's crawling with his sins.

"I..I don't see papyrus if I do and it makes writing poems difficult." Dust grips Blue's shirt and tears up a bit. He missed papyrus even if everytime he've 'seen' him, he was abused by the hallucination of paps.

"He's not real Dust. He'll never will b-"

"HE IS. I can see him!" He pushed Blue away, and he had a very upset expression from Blue's statement. "You can't take him away from me again!" Dust struggled out of the bed, then summons a magic bone attack. It was a bad idea to invalidate Dust of his belief so deliberately. Dust pointed at something that wasn't real as he yelled papyrus was there with him.

"D-dust...look at me," Blue says in a calm way. He was a little frightened but didn't show it. "I'm sorry..."

Dusr stares down at the other. He started shaking again and went to blue. The bone attack disintegrates then he apologizes with a weak voice. It really worried Blue how he could possibly take care of Dust. The smaller went back to clinging desperately.

"It's ok, how about you read me your recent writings." Blue pats Dust's shoulders. Dust's eyelights widen. He've never shared before. It slowly excites him, and he pulls out his little notepad from his pocket.

"Really...? You have no idea how much I've wanted to share my interest of writing." Dust definitely had a mood swing. Blue positioned them the same as before. Dust started to recite the poem:

"Your love is a drug. Your love abuses me.
Your love a pill to appease my psyching.
A rose represents love because its thorns.
I see dust. I see myself, Dust. I wanna play with death and become: Dust.
Love will never DIE, it will continue. It carries on.
Love is beyond death. It is what a loved one gives you."

It was said with such solemn. Blue didn't know Dust wrote poems like this. He didn't know if he should look for a deeper meaning or not. Whose love was he talking about was the mystery that puzzles him, but it's a good thing he liked riddles and puzzles. "What it mean, Dust? I don't believe I've been abusing you."

Quietly Dust spoke, "My poem isn't about any one individual." He sounded somewhat playful. This tone was unheard though since Dust was very bad with expressing appropriate tone in voice.

"Fancy talk, huh? Why don't you try to sleep now. It has been a long day." Blue strokes Dust's skull. Dust mumbled a 'ok'. It wasn't that easy though. It takes a long while for dust to fall asleep, but Blue was there for him for the whole process.

Soon the smaller falls asleep in Blue's safe clutches. In a way they both helped eachother. They both had insomnia, although Blue's was not caused by extreme trauma. It helped both get to sleep sooner than they did alone.