☽ Troublemaker ☾《Nightkiller》𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗲𝗱

☽ Chapter 18: Perturbed Philantrophy ☾

"Take in deep breaths, my love," he murmured, humming a somewhat ethereal tune. "You're fine just the way you are." His gloved hands reached towards the other pair, grasping them softly with assurance. "Tell me you're not a pet, nor a tool."

"I'm no-not a pet, n-nor a too-tool."

The first week of his time here had finally passed, and he could definitely feel the air around them getting cooler. Winter was coming, and he didn't know if he was okay with it. 

"There!" Dream exclaimed, suddenly opening his eyes in happiness and a little relief. "You're getting there." Lifting up a hand, he counted to 3, the other hand still holding a grip. Then, he frowned in disappointment. "Well, I didn't expect you to turn to normal, but your positivity levels somehow dropped?" Cocking his head, he huffed, "Are you still hiding things from me?"

Killer looked down. "Well, yeah, but it's nothing really important." He was trying to avoid the guardian's gaze, but all he saw was his broken target. Fortunately, it had stopped its quest of breakage, but the cracks chipped off some health. That caused his emotions to leak out like a faulty pipe. "If I told you, you'd laugh again."

"Ah-" Dream shook his head, giving the murderer a determined look. "I won't laugh again!" Gripping his fists in strong-will, he grumbled, "Curse me for being such a horrible therapist." Then he leaned forward, whispering. "I. Won't. Laugh. Promise."

Releasing pent up sadness was going to kill him for sure, but Killer just didn't want the embarrassment. If he'd confide his confusing relationship with his boss to the positive skeleton, he would cause a link of anguish. His lids grew heavy as he pulled the flower crown off his head with his free hand.

"Your brother..." he shook his head, a translucent tear mixing with the sludgy, black slime. "He's a good person."  Dream squeaked in surprise, about to raise a response, but Killer sniffed loudly, tieing the flower crown around his eyes, the lilac flowers stained with pain. "Maybe he just doesn't know it yet. Maybe... you guys just don't know it yet."

The pained sentence left his mouth in gasps, the skeleton writhing in both embarrassment and years of suffering. He had already started breaking down, which didn't seem like a good sign at first but showed development. He could create a little ball of oxytocin to call his own, maybe.

Dream at this point didn't feel sympathy for his brother as much. It was clear he had ruined some lives- considering his hundred-year tyrannies- but he had also hurt someone close to him. Three people- their mother, Dream, and finally, Killer. Dream gripped the materializing bow next to him, but let it go, the form dissipating. 

He reached out, with a pitying look. "Killer..." What has he done to make you believe in him? Perhaps that was too harsh, but Killer had probably never seen Nightmare's normal form. So what was all of this... hope for? It was the only positive emotion he had felt from the murderer in the week they've been together. Otherwise, all he felt was regulation and eerily little amounts of emotion.  

Slipping a paper out of his folder, he handed it to Killer, along with a ballpoint pen. "Could you write a list of why you think he's a good person?" He raised his hands in defense, blurting, "N-not like I'm disagreeing, but-" a clearing of the throat, "-it may be hard to see exactly why, you know?"

Killer gave him an indescribable look, then croaked, "My handwriting is chicken scratch," pushing away the paper, he added, "I can talk, you know." Dream nodded quickly, giving him the lead. "Y'know, ya bro actually told me some interesting things." He propped up his leg, resting his chin on his knee.

"- I'd say, if you give him a little hug, he'd probably lower the gun."

"- And maybe if you called him once in a while, he'd come back."