Better Together

Different Style

Killer receives blackmail material, but decides to leave it be for the sake of Cross' mental health.

-

"Dinner." Was all Killer needed to jump out of his seat and start bolting down the corridor. As Nightmare would have it, he'd been stuck inside for a whole week and it was driving him insane. The flirt knew why that was, Nightmare was a worrywart after all, but it didn't irk him any less. He coped with the boredom by annoying the living hell out of his most beloved skeletons.

If that annoyance came at the cost of chipping the wooden doors then so be it. Killer was unfazed by Dust's groan as he kicked her chamber door wide open. "Wake up, Bunny!" He cheered. "Dinner's ready!" 

Dust had undoubtedly heard him stomping down the hallway, which kind of ebbed the need to scream in her face. Again, Killer wasn't doing it to inform her but rather to push her to the edge of madness.

The flirt didn't grant her a moment to respond, whether with curses or groans, for he was gone as soon as he came. Marching down the hall he reached Nightmare's office, he didn't get the chance to disturb her for she already sensed him coming and opened the door before he could smash it to smithereens. Killer decided to smooth talk her for a little bit instead before he hurried off to Cross' room.

He broke through the wooden barrier, of which Cross had painted and designed it, and stumbled upon a view he would've never imagined seeing. He already knew it would be hard to forget the image of Cross' shocked face, caught entirely off guard. 

Why was that desperation present in his eye-lights? Perhaps because Killer could torment him with this revelation? The flirt whistled before whispering under his breath: "Damn."

"Don't look!" Cross burst out, even though it was entirely too late. He also knew damn well that Killer wouldn't listen to him for one single second, as previous escapades had demonstrated. 

"Oh god, this is so embarrassing." He muttered but Killer's teasing never came. The flirt only gawked at him, raking his eyes over every detail of his outfit.

"Fuck." Was Killer's eventual reaction and Cross could cry at that point. "Why's edge lord you so fuckin' hot?" The soldier had a light purple hue spread across his face which did not quite match the goth aesthetic clothing that he'd put on. 

Killer liked it, apparently. Though it did nothing to easy his anxiety. "Fuckin' hell, Crossy. Ya should wear tha' more often."

"What are you, crazy?!" He exclaimed and the flirt tilted his skull with a grin in obvious answer. "I'm not wearing this more often and definitely not anywhere that isn't my room!"

"Wha' are ya so anxious fer Crissy? Ya know I wear goth every day 'nd Dust wears I' sometimes."

"It's not exactly proper to wear this shit in front of others, Kill!" Cross shot back.

"Aight, ya don't have ta yell a' me. Though, ya are aware tha' ya don't have ta be proper in fron' a us, aren't ya?" Cross sighed a: 'yeah.' before Killer continued. "Well then, I'll tell ya tha' I'm 100% sure tha' this look will please everyone else. They want ya ta be yourself, after all."

"Are you trying to convince me to eat dinner in this?" Cross interrogated with a sceptical look. Killer put up his hands in surrender.

"I'm sayin' none a us would be deterred I' ya showed up like this. Not tryin' ta make ya do somethin' ya don't wanna do. Just tryin' ta assure ya." With that Killer made a step out the doorframe. 

"I' ya are gonna change outta tha' better make I' quick, Horror's gonna be upset I' th' food's gone cold by the time ya show up." Before Cross could come up with a sentence to say, Killer was already out the door.

Cross sighed as he walked over to his full-length mirror and studied the intricacies of his design. All black and white clothing with metal accents, did he dare show himself like this?