Work Text:
Weekends are the bane of Berdly's existence. Two whole days spent trying to find any excuse to get out of the house, and on this cold Sunday afternoon, he's failed at just that. For one thing, it's raining, meaning the library is closed and doesn't need volunteers. Noelle is spending the day hanging out with Susie, and he had the feeling that his presence would be unwelcome by the scaly ruffian. Not that he would want to spend time with someone so intellectually understimulating.
That being said…it is pretty lonely in the apartment.
The only advantage to being all on his own is that he gets to sprawl lazily across the sofa, chip bag propped up on his hip and game music blasting at full volume from his handheld, drowning out the heavy silence. But the longer he sits there, the less effective it actually is. He sighs with defeat, shuts the game off and sets the console on the table. He also makes sure to clip the bag of chips shut as he walks with it to the kitchen.
Setting the snack bag on the counter, he wished silently in his head that something would happen so he doesn't have to sit around like this. But interesting events don't simply fall onto one's doorstep like packages. He'll just have to go out and find something to do around town. He threw on his raincoat as he stepped out into the stairwell, making his way to the front door of the building.
As he descended the metal steps, he heard a thump sound ring out from said door. Either it's a weird attempt at knocking, or someone falling over, and the latter is more plausible but also more concerning. He quickened his pace, reaching for the handle and yanking the door open.
A distinctly human silhouette was crumpled on the concrete stairs. It was Kris. They had nasty bruises and a few cuts on their face, hands, and he could only imagine where else. Their breath was shaking and heaving, and he swore he could see blood soaking their sweater in some places. He almost physically recoiled at the sight. Slowly, they lifted their head just enough to show a glimpse of their eyes behind their bangs. A sound akin to a shaky laugh escaped them.
"…Hey."
"Heavens to yikes, Kris!! What did you get yourself into??" Berdly knelt beside them, sweeping his eyes over the various wounds. He could feel his own hands shaking.
They tried to prop themselves up with their arm, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry if I caught you at a bad time, I needed to crash somewhere for a quick break. Couldn't exactly make it the whole walk home like…this."
He was surprised how much they were talking, nervously overexplaining everything. His expression hardened, and he pulled them up to their feet, slinging their arm over his shoulder.
"You're coming inside right now, no protests." He supported their shivering form with a hand on their waist while he lead them into the building.
Kris looked silently surprised by this, but as he guided them up the stairs, they melted into him, sighing with relief like they'd needed this physical support for ages. Faint dark circles were visible under their eyes, showing just how tired they were. They kept their arm wrapped loosely around him in return, the sluggishness of the action contrasted by how their hand clutched his shirt like a lifeline.
He's just hoping they don't pass out on him, otherwise he might really freak out.
Berdly returned from the bathroom with a first aid kit tucked under one arm, entering the living room. Kris was laid across the couch with their head on the armrest, staring at their battered reflection in the TV screen. He couldn't begin to determine what they were thinking about their situation, their gaze looked distant. He sat down carefully next to their legs.
As he opened the kit up and scanned the contents, his mind briefly blanked on what to do next. He glanced at them, finding them staring right at his face expectingly, and grew flustered, quickly returning to rummaging through the box to avoid looking back at them too long. Antibiotic ointment and bandages, that should be what he needs for this. Right. Easy as pie.
He took out the tube of ointment, set the box down, and started to hesitantly scoot closer. He was perched on the edge of the couch on his knees, cautious and trying to avoid disturbing Kris' position. They watched him intently as he unscrewed the cap, and spread a bit of the gel onto the tip of his feathery finger.
"Hold still, alright? This requires precision." Berdly commanded, though there was a tremor in his voice. He didn't need to say it, Kris wasn't moving very much to begin with, but he wanted to fill the heavy silence.
When Berdly's finger finally made contact with their cheek, they shivered. Whether because the ointment was cold or offputting in texture, or simply from having one of their cuts touched, he couldn't tell just by visual. But they relaxed just as quickly, which he felt in the tiny, subtle shift of their body.
While rubbing the ointment into the cuts, he noted the softness of their skin under his hands. There were some faded scars on their face from healing scabs they must've picked at in the past, and very faint freckles that ran under their eyes and across their nose bridge, the kind he never would've noticed if he didn't have them so close. He briefly cupped their jaw with his palm before he caught himself and stopped, willing himself not to act so irrational.
He reached into the first aid kit and retrieved a handful of band-aids. One at a time, he peeled open the wrapper and scanned their face for the cuts he wanted to place them on. Kris had stopped making eye contact by now, gazing off into space and letting him tilt their head whatever direction he needed.
But while he repeated the same process on their hands, they started watching him do it. Observing as he rubbed the gel into their scrapes and cuts, and smoothed down band-aids on their skin, careful not to press down on the bruises. And no, he didn't contemplate placing a kiss on top of the bandages after, that would be a ridiculous and weird thing to think about.
When his eyes met theirs, they quickly tore their gaze away, with a expression that seemed to carry a bit of guilt. He tried to reassure them with a small smile.
"There, that should do the trick. I believe it's about time you start heading home, Kris, or your mother will wonder where you are." As he began standing up, he was stopped by their hand on his wrist. They winced as they moved their position, looking down at the floor.
"…There's one more."
He blinked at them with a blank and confused look, which morphed into a deep blue blush when he saw them pulling up the hem of their sweater.
"Uh?? K-Kris, what- that's, uh- are you sure we have the time for-"
"For Angel's sake, that's not what I'm trying to say." Kris' face lit up with color as well, and they shook their head, embarrassed. "Perv. What I meant is that there's another wound I need bandaged."
Berdly perked up, even more baffled at how he had managed to miss one of their injuries. Thank goodness they spoke up about it, and didn't just let him send them home without properly treating it. He returned to his position on the couch. "In that case, please kindly direct me to it so we can take care of it."
They glanced to the side. "Are you sure you wanna see? It's…not pretty."
"Give me a little more credit, Kris," He scoffed proudly, "I may be a lot of things, but I am not squeamish by any stretch of the word! Besides, I'm the one who insisted on doing you this service. You can show me."
Kris squeezed their eyes shut, nodded, and finally pulled up their sweater to reveal the injury. The shift in the room's energy was instant.
Across their stomach was a dark red gash.
Thank the stars, the wound wasn't deep and was already beginning to scab, but that didn't mean it wasn't bloody and painful looking. Despite his claim of not being squeamish, the sight sent a wave of panic through him, and he drew in a sharp breath while looking between the injury and their eyes. They didn't look back at him, their expression coated with shame.
"Kris," He finally choked out, "I think we should probably take you to the hospital-"
"No."
Kris shook their head, dismissing the suggestion immediately. In response to Berdly's bewilderment, they clarified, "If I go to the hospital, they'll call Mom. And if she sees me like this, she'll…she'll have questions."
"…You're covered in bruises and band-aids, Kris," he laughed nervously, feeling his hands begin to tremor again, "she'll probably notice either way."
"I just…" Kris inhaled deeply, tears pricking their eyes. "Please. I'm trusting you here."
Berdly's beak clenched. There was so much left unsaid here, so much he didn't know and was desperate to. But seeing the fear in Kris' face, he pushed it all down.
He grabbed the first aid kit and rummaged through it frantically, finding a roll of gauze bandages. Placing a hand on their side, he helped them to sit up so that he had the space to wrap the bandages around them. Kris was trembling a bit more now, and he carefully placed a hand on their side to steady them.
He slowly wrapped the gauze around their midriff, noticing the way their jaw clenched and their hands gripped the cushions. He looked them right in the eye, and sighed when they whipped their gaze away.
"I can tell that you're in pain," he declared bluntly, "and, well, considering what happened to you, I can't claim that it surprises me. You…you don't have to put up an act."
The air around them both seemed to freeze. Kris slightly rose their head, looking at his worried and considerate expression. Just as he finished with the bandages, he felt a hand grip his shoulder, followed by him being pulled up against Kris' body. A choked sound tore its way out of their throat.
They had finally begun to cry.
Kris woke up to find themselves curled in a fetal position, still on Berdly's couch. Having fallen asleep after they were done crying all over him, they'd wondered as they drifted off if he would call someone to come get them, or at least move them. But as far as they could tell, they'd been left undisturbed. The scent of vegetable broth wafted from the kitchen to the living room.
Sluggishly sitting up, they noticed a cable-knit sweater neatly folded at their feet, presumably belonging to Berdly. Looking down at their own blood-stained sweatshirt, it clicked in their head that it was being lended to them. They took up this offer, trying to ignore the quickening rhythm of their soul in their chest, and trying not to think about the looseness of the sleeves on their arms, which were probably fitted for his much bigger wings.
Once they were changed, they approached the kitchen doorway and watched what Berdly was up to in silence. He was humming the theme from an old RPG, talons tapping on the tiles as he walked about. He returned to the steaming hot pot on the stove, spinning a wooden spoon in his hand, lost in his own little world. The sight resonated with a part of Kris that they didn't realize dwelled within them, and they felt warmth pricking their cheeks. He clearly had no clue they were there, not until they crept up behind him, encircling his torso with their arms.
He straightened his posture initially, then looked at them over his shoulder and, for some reason, actually smiled when he saw them. "Well, well, look who's still alive. Did you rest well, Sleeping Beau-they?"
Kris should've cringed. They wanted to cringe, but the chance passed too quickly for them to believably fake it. They hate that they actually found that a little funny, even if they didn't have in them to laugh out loud. They're taking this with them to the grave.
They perched their head on his shoulder, watching the whirlpool inside the pot that had been created from his stirring, forcefully while fighting themselves not to glance at him. He continued talking, paying their odd behavior no mind, likely not even noticing it.
"Oh, and I contacted Toriel while you were resting," he informed them, "so no need to fret, Kris, she is aware of your location. I'll accompany you home after dinner."
They felt their brow furrow and their hands crumple his pristine shirt. When did he become someone so…doting? The entire thing was unbecoming of him, entirely unnatural, so…why did they like it??
They could still see tear and snot stains on his shirt where they had cried, and it made them question why he hadn't changed out of it. They ran one of their hands up his torso, sinking into the warm embrace they had him in, and let out a tiny sigh. Maybe this wasn't so bad, being close to him.
Would their mom mind if they stayed at his place for dinner? What he was making did smell pretty great. Maybe they could play Super Smashing Fighters after. And then-
"…Kris?"
Hearing him speak anchored Kris to reality again. They remembered all the reasons why they couldn't give in, why letting themselves fall into him would be wrong, and they suddenly released him, stepping away. He turned around, looking confused and…a bit hurt. They could've sworn they felt their soul drop into their stomach.
They looked down at the floor. "I think I should head home."
It's too much. He's already seen them bleeding and crying, slumped on his front steps in the rain, the weakest they've ever been. They can't stand to stay here knowing they're at the brink of crumbling completely, it's too much to show anything more. He's seen enough.
He put the spoon down and reached for their shoulder, trying to smile reassuringly. "Kris, you're perfectly alright to stay a little longer-"
"It's okay." Kris lied through their teeth. They were already heading for the door.
"Wait!"
Kris didn't wait. They stepped out the door and shut it hard, feeling their lower lip trembling as they barely managed to contain a second round of tears. They can't let him see them like this. They wish they didn't want to. It only hurt worse when they heard him mutter helplessly on the other side of the door.
"Come back."
The whole walk home, Kris' brain was screaming at them. It was a duel between their conflicting desires to go back to Berdly and to get as far away from him as they could, but neither was truly winning. He probably thinks they hate him. They pushed down the pang in their chest that such an idea causes. They don't care, right? They shouldn't.
They rubbed their hands together unconsciously, but the texture of the band-aids on their hands is only a cruel reminder of the tenderness they ran away from. They're still wearing his sweater, too; and theirs, the one with bloodstains still on it, is currently sitting in his living room. Just great. Another stupid thought to dwell on.
They opened the front door of their house, welcomed be the familiar smell of pastries and goat fur. Their mother looked up from the kitchen counter and, unsurprisingly, immediately rushed to their side when she noticed the state they were in.
"Kris, dear, what happened to you?" She grasped one of their hands in one fluffy paw, the other cupping their cheeks. "You look as if you were attacked! Just tell me who it was, sweetie, and I can-"
Kris pulled back from the contact nervously. "Mom, hey, calm down. I just rolled down a hill while playing outside with Susie. I'm fine."
She sighed with relief. Her eyes flickered over them, and she raised an eyebrow. "That sure is, um…a lot of bandages."
"Berdly patched me up," they explained, trying not to let their face give away that there was more to the story, "I think he was…a bit excessive with it."
And then I ran away from him, like a fucking coward, they scolded themselves.
Toriel smiled a little at that. While Kris knelt to untie their sopping wet shoes, they froze when they heard her say, "He's quite a good friend to you, is he not?"
Looking up at her briefly, they couldn't deny seeing the glint of curiosity in her eyes. Their hands trembled a little just thinking about it.
"…I'm gonna go take a nap."
She blinked at them in slight surprise, but gave them a gentle nod and patted their back. They shuffled their way to the stairs.
It was pretty clear that she suspected something about their relationship with Berdly, the way she looked at them when they brought him up. Unlike Berdly himself or even Susie, she was observant, and could probably pick up on every little shift in tone and expression that Kris underwent when thinking about him a certain way. Being so easy to read infuriated them.
They threw open the door to their room and made a beeline for their bed, rolling themselves up with the covers. They reached down, fingers brushing the bandages wrapped around their midriff, and they blushed bright red, recalling the feeling of his feathery hands making contact with their waist, the gentleness with which he'd handled them, like a precious toy from one's childhood. The warmth of his voice when he spoke to them, trying to comfort them, was replaying in their head akin to a mantra. They buried their face into the mattress and groaned.
"What do I do nowww…?"