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Cross sat in the spare bedroom alone. His outerwear still lay in a pile by the door, his boots left askew beside them, and yet he could do little more than glance at the mess with frustrated resignation. He’d sat himself in a rickety chair that had not been expecting a guest, squealing with every tiny shift he made. In his mired state, the noise caused him to grow rigid, stilling for no other reason than to keep it silent. His bare arms were planted on his thighs, and his gaze continued to hover over them, no matter how much he tried to ignore them.
A fire crackled in the other room, and the soft voices of his hosts and a few others were the only other sounds that filled the cabin. Wind whistled outside. He could feel the beginnings of sleep trying to lull him to the nearby bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to get comfortable. He was on watch now, whether he meant to be or not. It wasn’t a state his body would relieve him of easily.
A fresh lance of pain in his arms pulled him from his shock. He groaned, the chair groaned, and he shifted until he was some fashion of comfortable again– if he could even consider it comfort. Down his crooked phalanges his eyes drew once more, then to his metacarpals, carpals, to each radius and ulnae. The whole way, a sinuous array of fractures stretched. He breathed through his teeth as the pain migrated up to the rest of his body, and his brow furrowed as tears smarted in his sockets. He flexed his hands slowly, allowing stiff joints to creak and crack, before he grit against another wave of pain. In a better mood, he would have thought his injuries looked like Ink’s tattoos. Right now, he could only see the stunned look of regret Ink had worn before Cross had stormed off for the night.
Plenty other civilians needed medical attention more than him, anyway.
He was ruminating now, sighing and muttering in frustration as he tried to lean his face into a hand, but it hurt, and the chair creaked, and even the lamp at the bedside felt too bright.
He could taste dust in his mouth again, though he’d washed it out four times already, and there was blood in his vision. Killer screaming in his face. A flurry of blades and shouting. A tower collapsing, people trapped beneath, Cross diving through a shortcut—
The memory of the impact snapped him back to the room. He gasped, his skull churning, nausea rising. It had all been so sudden and confusing.
An attack, in this random AU, today? His breaths came short and fast through his teeth. He just couldn’t understand .
Tears flooded his sockets in earnest. He clenched his jaw tight. Hands began to shake. Too much pain.
Unless it was him, unless he’d been here specifically for him. He didn’t even know anyone here to apologize to–!
Box breathe, you idiot , something in his head chimed, and he snuffed in as much as he could as he tried to catch his breath. Breathe in, breathe out… On the next inhale, he began to count in. Four beats. First side of the box. Hold. Four beats, second side. Exhale, four, third side. Catch-hold, four, fourth side. Release, steady your wind, calm mind, calm sou– just. Just calm.. . He did it again, feeling the air simmer around his agitated magic. He counted loudly in his head, tracing the shape into the wood paneling with his blurred vision. A third time, trying to alleviate the shock, while greater, older shadows began to tug at his psyche. He shook his head, taking relaxing breaths now, looking around the plain little room, feeling strangely disconnected from its simple, old fashioned decor.
Despite the way his mind still reeled, Cross could feel his shoulders sag, the slight dizziness in his skull ease… But the ache in his arms dragged him back to his previous panic. After another wander of his eyes around the room, he leaned back in his indignant chair and tilted his head, willing his body to loosen. His sockets squeezed shut, tears slipping down his cheekbones, breathing in through his nose this time. In. Hold. Out. Catch-hold. Relax. In. Hold. Out. Catch-hold. Relax. It wasn’t working as well as he’d liked, but it was better than ending up on the floor in a hyperventilating mess of bones. The darkness behind his eyes became softer. The images from the day petered out. He was starting to feel present again.
A warm feeling prickled behind his sockets. His breath quieted, ribs relaxing as tension leaked from his body, and ghostly, soothing whispers attended to the darker spaces of his mind. They swept through the shadows with ease. His pain dulled in the face of the aura now blanketing him. Cross sank deep into the creaky chair, letting out a grumble of relief.
The soft scratch of linen rustled before him, and he slowly opened his eyes, leaning forward. Dream knelt before him, a hand on his knee, a thumb reaching up to wipe at his tears. Golden tendrils were relaxed behind him, the split in his skull glowing softly with his eyes.
“Hi Cross,” he smiled, his gentle voice melancholic.
“Dream.” His trembling voice betrayed him. “Is everyone else okay?”
Dream’s hands rested whisper-light on his palms. Cross twitched. “You know I promised you. I made sure everyone was taken care of before coming back.” He gazed along his marred arms, brow tightening. “I missed you though, Starlight.”
Cross shut his eyes again, a rush of emotions boiling to the surface at the bittersweet admission. He found himself swallowing back tears. All he could do was nod. “Missed you too, ‘Bea.”
Dream got up and found the chair’s fellow, sitting down in front of him. “Here, you’ve been waiting all day. Let me heal you, darling.” Fingers slipped beneath his metacarpals, turning his palms supine with delicate care; it was as if he plucked a harp. Cross squinted against the next sting of pain, trying to lower the prickly defenses from when his watch had begun earlier. Dream glanced up at him, eyelights searching him for hesitation. Cross sighed, shaking his head as his posture crumbled.
“Go ahead.”
The first rush of golden-green magic punched a gasp from him.
“Easy, easy,” Dream murmured, words falling like cool rain on his face. His breath shuddered from his ribs, but he shook his head frantically.
“Keep going.” He stared hard at the dark voids scrawled across the bone. He could feel how Dream was unsure, but readied himself regardless. Cross silently thanked the multiverse for him.
Another burst of magic, this time partially filling the cracks in the bone, as well as magic filigree that had been hewn away. He stiffened, the rush of positivity and relief suddenly blindsided by panic. His mind reeled with visions of blood and dust and darkness and blank-white voids. He grit his teeth and bent forward, letting out a cry of desperation.
He was screaming at Killer.
Killer’s sockets were pouring clotted determination, his SOUL like a scribble on a page, completely out of control. A hoarse laugh pushed a rivulet of ooze from his mouth. “Oh buddy , this ain’t for anyone but me!’” He lunged.
Ink had taken them there for a relaxed afternoon, why was this happening now?!
A rush of solace and calm startled him back to reality. Dream gently draped his tendrils around his back, pressed against the bone. It was a sturdy plane for him to lean on, and Cross let out a gasp at the positive haze, feeling drips of shadows leak out alongside his tears. Dream touched his cheek again, the soothing scrape of his bone something he ached for now. He leaned into his touch like it was the last time he’d feel it. His breathing was uneven, too fast, too much...
“You’re here with me, Cross. We’re safe now. We’re safe.”
He caught a twinkle of regret when he met his eyelights. Cross looked away. He held his arms out again.
Brushing the rest of his tears away, Dream asked, “Will you be alright? Just two more passes should do it.”
Cross weighed his answer, biting back the urge to lie. Another burst of magic sounded overwhelming, enough to make his ribs churn with anxiety, but the pain in his arms did much of the same. It had probably been half a day’s worth of enduring it, and when he laid it out that way, he figured there was a good reason he was unraveling at the sensation. He watched Dream’s tendrils retract behind him once more. His partner’s eyes gazed steadily, warm like torchlight. There was no judgement there.
He swallowed. His jaw slackened. The darkness in the room seemed to swell with the noise in his skull. He willed himself to speak, but nothing came. His jaw hung open, brow furrowing, a pressure behind his ribs as he fought to say something…
but
part of him was out of body now, like he’d felt in that unending void . a veil came down before him. eyes glared from a place he could not see. it was impossible to escape His panoptic watch. cross had failed again, again , and he could practically feel the notch of code that held this memory itching as it anticipated its erasure .
“I– ah…”
He winced as the rubble slammed down on him . He didn’t make it. He didn’t know how, he was right there, how did he not make it?! Stone planted firmly atop his arms. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t move. His arms hurt so much and when he moved he felt like vomiting and he couldn’t—
Dream cupped his cheeks, the warmth from his fingers a small tether to reality. “What’s the name of that pie you made for me last time I visited you?”
Cross startled back to the little room, hearing the sound of the cabin grumbling at the wind outside.
“P… Plimplom?”
Dream let out a relieved sigh and settled back in his chair. His fingers ghosted over his arms, not pushing any healing magic into it, but threading tiny amounts of positivity into them. Cross noticed a set of his tendrils had curled around him again, drawing him away from the edge of panic.
“What’s the road Blue’s place is at again?”
“I-it’s, uh. Eargle Road? Cuz they misspelled…”
“Eagle,” Dream said in unison with him, before chuckling. “Yeah. Easy one to remember. And what’s my zodiac?”
Cross wrinkled his nasal bridge, a frown passing over his face. Trying to draw up zodiac names always slowed his thoughts to a halt. “You’reee…. Aquariuuuu–” he caught a slight tilt of Dream’s head and pivoted– ”Capricorn?”
Dream grinned. “One day off. Sagittarius, the archer.”
“Oh, well,” he deadpanned with a weak laugh, “I should have guessed.”
A giggle rose from him. “You were in the ballpark this time! You’ll get it first-try soon.”
Cross soaked in his warm smile. The wood walls and floors around them felt solid once more, not just some curtain of binary. The room’s cool air drifted comfortably against his bones, and as the wind continued to bother the cabin’s sturdy walls, the creak of settling beams sounded like a relieved sigh. He found himself sighing with it.
His eyes drifted down Dream’ relaxed form, gazing at the hypnotic way he moved his fingers. He noticed his pain had ebbed with the magic, a relief he hadn’t realized he was craving so intensely. His shoulders sagged at the soothing magic. “Any other questions?” he asked quietly.
Dream hummed, focused on his arms. “How do you feel?”
He looked to his lap, then to Dream. “Tired. But I think I’m here enough.”
Dream’s sockets lowered, his warm eyelights aching as he looked up at him. For a moment, he seemed to search for something to say, but all that came out was a meek admission. “I wish I could do more for you, love.”
Cross leaned back slightly, letting the chair make a horrific noise as he did. He snorted, trying to continue the levity brought in by Dream’s grounding questions. “You are doing fan-fucking-tastic, for what it’s worth. A personal anti-panic magical field? Not many monsters can say their partner can do that for them.”
“I-I know, and you’re right Cross. I guess I just wish I had caught you before you… before you left earlier.”
He silently appreciated the care with which Dream chose those words. They were a kind way to say he’d bitched and stormed off.
“Shoulda listened to you and stayed.”
“You were in shock. Nobody behaves normally in shock,” Dream murmured. “Especially adults,” he cut in, seeing Cross opening his mouth.
He looked to the side, a pang of guilt in his chest as he worked his jaw. “Don’t blame yourself, Dream, please.” He slowly drew his eyelights back up to his. He couldn’t help the longing that ached through him now. “You’re here now. This helps. A lot.”
His guardian gave a slow, thoughtful nod, and they settled back into their comfortable silence. The fire still crackled outside, but the group that had been there seemed to have petered out. Maybe two or three people still spoke in hushed murmurs. Cross admired the focus that lined Dream’s face, felt the flow of his love radiating up the same leylines that had previously coursed with agony. His SOUL began to feel languid and warm.
“Hey Sunbeam,” he murmured. “I want you to try healing me again… but distract me. Maybe in a way that makes your magic work better."
Dream shot him a dubious glare, like he anticipated something that would make him wither. Cross laughed, “Don’t worry, I just want you to try kissing me through it.”
Dream’s browbone perked up, a gentle golden flush freckling his cheeks. “Oh, well…” Immediately, his demeanor grew honeyed and warm, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he reached out to cup Cross’ cheek. Residual positivity glimmered up through his skull, and he felt himself lean heavily into the caress once more. His aura seemed to bare his SOUL to Cross, and he almost felt giddy with the acceptance and delight there. It was strong enough to blur the day’s events for a blissful moment. “Sure. I’ve got you, Cross.” His voice lowered, the softest husk at its edges giving Cross a thrill up his spine. “Just let me take care of you.”
Cross gave him one last smile, before he sat up and let his eyes fall shut. Let you…
Dream’s mouth brushed gently against his, leaving delicate, light kisses above and below his teeth. Cross met him then, urging him to press harder, to part his mouth, but Dream only gentled and brought them back to a simmering pace. Cross gasped softly.
…Take care of you…, Dream seemed to echo against him.
His hand slipped down, resting on his forearms again, phalanges dancing over the wounds with extra care. Cross’ breath shook. Then a firm, sudden kiss, light bursting in his mind as healing magic rushed up his arms and back, so quickly that he didn't have a chance to tense and interrupt it on his own manalines. This time, it worked in full. Cross felt his body shudder, before searching for Dream’s mouth again.
Dream whispered a string of praise against him as he ran his hands over the hairline cracks remaining. He felt his SOUL quiet, the flashbacks leaving him, the tension releasing…
Cross huffed against him, sockets fluttering open to find Dream doing the same. They grinned at each other, and Dream murmured with a coy lilt, “Last one.”
Dream nudged his way back against his mouth. Now, he wasted no time tasting him deeply, tongue soft against his as they wound together. It was lazy and slow, a little indulgent, Dream letting his aura melt into his beloved as his hands glanced up to his cheekbones, then back down toward his forearms. Cross shivered under his warmth, and his thoughts flooded with his presence. He adored him, every bit of him, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful that Dream could sway him this way—to have the privilege of being under his spell—if only to chase away the shadows for a moment.
One last sharp sting of healing magic, and the ache in his arms drifted off almost entirely. They pulled apart, Cross sighing into bone, feeling tears of relief rim his sockets against his will.
“There, love, there’s that. I’m proud of you,” Dream hummed, hugging him close. Cross shimmied him onto his lap, sinking deep in his shoulder as he was cocooned in Dream’s tendrils and presence. The chair gave an especially loud shriek at the extra bit of weight, and Cross found himself laughing against his clavicle.
“Alright, let's give this poor thing a rest.”
“Hmph, and I was just getting cozy too,” Dream pouted theatrically.
“Oh no, now we’ll have to use the entire bed to get cozy,” he snickered, and laughter bubbled between them.
He hesitated as he looped his arms beneath Dream’s legs, but a wave of relief washed through his body as he realized lifting him was painless. He swore he caught a sparkle of pride in Dream’s eyelights as he sat them on the edge of the bed. Once more, Dream curled around and snuggled them into their little cocoon. Cross started to feel the sag of exhaustion beneath his eyes.
Dream drew slow, soothing circles into his skull, a tiny burst of positive magic accompanying each revolution. Cross resisted the urge to cling to the linen of his cloak, wondering who or what he’d done right by to be so dearly cherished. It seemed, to him, that Dream could heal the very cracks in his SOUL like this.
“Today was awful,” Dream whispered. “And you were so strong, regardless of how much it all scared you.”
“Yeah, well, so were you,” Cross mumbled.
Dream giggled, a tiny kiss left on his forehead. “Perhaps, but this isn’t about me, you can do that later. I’m doting on you right now.”
Cross peeked up at him with a disgruntled, warning look. Dream gave a firm pat in response. “Promise you, I’m okay. Feel my aura, I’m not concealing anything.”
“...Don’t need to. I trust you,” Cross replied, burrowing back into his shoulder.
Dream gave him a squeeze, a rush of fondness filling the air, before returning to the lazy circles on the crown of his head. Cross hummed contentedly, letting himself drift under his touch.