DystopianTale Asides

4- The one where Killer and Cross are definitely not friends

After chapter 37

Killer shifted on the thick tree branch, hand on the thick trunk of the tree to keep him balanced, and tucked his legs beneath him, sitting back on his heels. He eyed the ex-guard on the ground below him suspiciously, the earnest look on Cross's face almost enough to make him laugh. "You're asking me what I do for fun?"

"Yes. Why is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?"

Killer snorted, rolling his eyelights. "Because I'm me? And you're, you know, a guard."

Cross groaned, crossing his arms over his ribs, patience obviously beginning to run thin. "First, I was a guard, I'm not anymore. Which I've pointed out before. Multiple times." The shorter of the two skeleton's was unable to hold in an amused snort at that, which deepened Cross's scowl. "And second, what does that have to do with what you do for fun? It's really not that deep."

Shrugging, Killer hoped down from his perch in the tree - he hadn't been much of a tree climber before the revolution had moved their base to the Dreemurr residence, but besides the barn there wasn't much else he could climb, so trees it was - and landed with a soft thumb on the green grass. The sky was a soft orange and pink, bleeding into night, and Killer could vaguely see Nightmare and Dream in the distance, training. When Nightmare had first told Killer that his brother would be teaching him how to use a bow, Killer would be lying if he said he hadn't been a little bitter.  Still was, truthfully. Training had always been his and Nightmare's thing, it was the whole reason the two of them were as close as they are now. But, on the other hand, it'd be good for Nightmare to learn skills Killer can't teach him, like this bow thing, plus... it seemed to make Nightmare happy. Killer could put up with anything if it got Night to smile. Regardless, this new training routine the twins had meant Killer suddenly had a lot more time alone. And that alone time got boring after a while."You really want to know?" Cross raised an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless. "Fine. Follow me."

"Follow you??" Killer didn't wait for Cross's response before he turned, already walking towards the gravel road at the edge of the Dreemurr's property, and the ex-guard had to job to catch up with him. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think, dumbass?"

"My god, you are insufferable." Cross groaned, and Killer had to repress an amused grin. He didn't want Cross to know how fun it was to piss him off, how much Killer enjoyed riling him.

If Cross knew that, he'd know Killer actually gave a shit about him. And that'd make them friends, which they weren't, they were very specifically "Non-friends."

"Ok, we're going to the city." They were a good ways away from the cottage when Cross finally broke the silence, seemingly over his annoyance, or over it enough to say something that wasn't about Killer being a shithead. Killer grunted in affirmation, glancing back, a nervous tick of checking to see if he was being followed. One of the many quirks that has stuck to him like tar from his time living on the streets. Though, technically, didn't he still live on the streets? Hell if he knew, Killer never was one for technicalities. "But why?"

"You asked me what I used to do for fun." Killer stated it like it was obvious, looking away from the shrinking cottage and back at Cross. The evening air was steadily cooling down, the warmth of the day fading away with the sunlight, and Killer found himself relieved he hadn't taken off his cape/shawl. While it didn't give him much warmth since he had cut off the entire front half of it, it did do a little to protect his arms from the brisk air.

"You do realise I was asking about hobbies when I said that, right?"

Killer shrugged. "It's hard to have 'traditional' hobbies when you're dirt poor and living in the slums, dumbass." Cross grunted, but didn't have a snarky remark to make about that one. "And you said you wanted to know, so stop complaining already."