Chapter Text
Dream had just started going out with Cross and as usual, Palette wanted to know who was daring to try to be with his only parent. Ink hadn’t been around at all when he was a child, so he didn’t get a chance to even know him and only heard a few very negative stories about how he doesn’t care about anyone. So protecting Dream from another bad partner was his way of helping his Dad.
“Um, Cross come in,” Dream just got home, bringing Cross with him.
“So, he’s the guy you’ve decided to date,” Palette was looking Cross up and down, disapproving of little things about him in his head.
“Palette, this is Cross. Cross, this is Palette, my son,” the two weren’t too fond of each other, jealousy already setting in.
Never before had Palette had to compete for Dream’s attention and he hated how his dad thought their meeting had gone well enough for Cross to move in. Most nights Palette wanted to ruin things for the new couple, even though he knew Dream hadn’t been so happy since his last relationship, which failed. Seeing them cuddle and talk about the future made the young teen get jealous, Dream and Cross oblivious to how badly he wanted to ruin everything for them.
Something in Palette’s mind twisted and he made a horrible plan, Dream was leaving them alone for an afternoon in a few days and he could do anything. Of course, the day came far too quickly and Dream looked so hopeful as he left. Cross tried to leave Palette to his own devices, not wanting to start any fights. However, when he heard curse words getting shouted from Palette’s room, he raced to see what was wrong.
Busting in, Cross found the teen sitting on his floor and crying. He panicked as he noticed blood seeping through Palette’s sleeve, making the white shirt turn a dark crimson. Without asking for his consent, Cross rolled the sleeve up and looked at the injury, which was actually multiple injuries. Blood was escaping a large number of cuts, the culprit of the wounds on the ground by Palette’s feet. Beside the teen, there was a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some bandages, something that had been put off when Cross got too close.
“Kid, what were you doing in here?” Cross watched as Palette avoided his gaze, looking towards the window as he started crying.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m gonna clean these up for you,” a hiss escaped Palette as Cross sprayed rubbing alcohol onto his cuts.
“Hurts,” Palette whimpered, watching as Cross got up.
“You don’t have everything I need for cleaning you up in here, so I’m gonna go grab the stuff from the bathroom,” internally Palette was screaming at Cross, being so caring instead of treating him like shit for his self-harm.
A few minutes later Cross came back, carrying medical supplies in his arms. Everything was dropped on the floor and then Cross returned to fixing up Palette’s arm, finishing off with wrapping the bandages around his cuts. With the cleaning done things got quiet, so quiet that Palette started to get uncomfortable. He reached over and grabbed his phone, meaning to only look for some music for later. Accidentally he pressed on one and the sound of hard rock music filled the room.
The noise had caught Cross off guard and he jumped, realizing a minute later that it was just Palette’s phone. Things seemed more awkward as Palette turned the music off, mumbling a quiet apology. He felt like he was just stressing Cross out and he seemed to be a genuinely nice person. Carefully he picked up his blade and dropped it into one of his drawers, hoping Cross wouldn’t tattle when Dream got home, although he knew he would.
“Cross, I’m sorry,” the sudden words surprised Cross and he fixed his gaze on Palette.
“Kiddo, I don’t mind cleaning up injuries. No matter how you got them,” Palette appreciated that Cross didn’t say that it was self-harm, calling it that always made him feel bad.
“I’ve been rude to you and then you had to clean up my cuts, it doesn’t seem right. Why are you so nice to me? I just don’t understand,” tears started streaming down his face as frustration set it.
“You’re putting up with me moving into your living space, I can understand the distrust. When I first met you I thought Dream would leave me on your command, but then it didn’t happen. I’ve started to try understanding what others are dealing with and this can’t be easy on you,” giving in, Palette hugged Cross and broke down sobbing.
Neither of them noticed when the door opened, both of them sound asleep on Palette’s floor. The whole mess of the day overwhelming both of them and wore them out. Cross had drifted off after Palette, having watched the teen cry himself to sleep. Dream had been surprised to not be met with the two of them at the front door and he went to check up on them.
Peaking into Palette’s room had been startling, there were all sorts of medical supplies on the floor and some blood. Leaning against the wall were the two Dream had been looking for, his gaze locking onto the bandages on Palette. He wanted to wake them both and ask what happened, but waking them felt rude, so he left them be.
Dream had known for a while that Palette was dealing with problems, even before Cross had moved in with them. So having them confirmed was worrying to him, but Cross had been there and he’d clearly helped. Knowing they were getting along cheered him up as he prepared to take a shower, planning to talk to his dumb partner and son in a few more minutes.
Maybe there was hope for them to be a family after all…