Chapter Text
Cross had never imagined Killer to run away like this.
He didn’t think Killer was the run-away type, he always carried himself confidently no matter the situation.
Something must have happened to him, someone must have-
Dust thought Killer was exactly that— a run away.
That he’d come to his senses and appear back in the flat somehow, despite the several days they’d spent hoping for that to happen.
“You’re overthinking it.”
Dust said off-handed, producing a cigarette from his pocket.
Cross had reminded him over and over to quit smoking, yet he hadn’t ever stopped to think about it even once.
that was one of the most irritating things about him.
They had a CAT in the flat.
Killer’s cat.
Crackers, a shiny, orange cat with green sparkly eyes that always spoke “yes! Pick me up! Take me on a walk!” And pried into every single thing.
Dust HAD listened to him, just a little, but he always “forgot” after a few days.
He’d sneak into the small living room, where he’d smoke and watch tv, and then Cross would notice the skunk-smell and yell at him to knock it off.
Crackers would wait at the door, where the smoke hadn’t reached nearly as much.
Cross had already had to deep-clean twice, but the smell never left.
Their landlord was probably going to KILL them if she ever found out.
Horror didn’t even seem affected— but it wasn’t like Cross even knew him at all.
Horror had separated himself a long time ago, only staying there because buying a new place would’ve been hard.
They all banded together to make that MonsterTube channel for MONEY, because they were barely scraping in enough for rent.
Their videos were still gaining a bunch of views- a bunch of G, he was sure, but..
he couldn't bring himself to look at the analytics without everyone around.
Even then, Cross knew that Horror worked a butcher job further in the city.
He never got home til it was already dark, and he woke up at the crack of dawn just to take the busses to get all the way in there.
He’d buy the group food that they wanted, and that seemed to be the only thing that kept him around.
the feeling of importance—of being needed.
Cross respected that.
When Horror ever came back to the flat, he’d be so tired he wouldn’t even speak to the others…
so Cross didn’t push him.
The main thing that kept Cross up at night was that it didn’t seem like Dust cared at all.
Even the CAT cared.
Crackers would always scratch at the door, pawing and meowing even when they were all home.
She knew her owner wasn’t there, and she could sense that something was wrong.
Cross could feel it too.
The dread—
the fear of someone you love disappearing in one night, and dying with nobody around.
That may sound like a stretch, but the group had all known the risks of urbex.
You’re more likely to die from collapsing buildings, erosion, and homeless monsters who have nothing to lose.
They always went into buildings expecting these things..
except Killer.
Killer acted like his life had no meaning, like he had nothing else to do.
He was confident— too confident, like eroded floorboards and unstable foundations would hold his weight.
He was young—
But he acted like the whole world revolved around the group, and their stupid exploration stunts.
Cross..
Cross didn’t understand why he liked him so much when he could gamble with his life so often.
Cross woke up with a headache.
There was a tightening in his chest as he breathed, but he was keen on ignoring it.
He pushed himself forward, sliding the covers down as he reached for another pillow to position underneath his head.
He reached for his phone, popping the charger out of the port with a tiny click.
He opened it to see..
11:35 AM.
“Fuck..” He hissed through his teeth, drawling back into the mattress.
it.. wasn’t like he was supposed to be anywhere, he’d always made quick work of his schedule.
But..
he was planning on looking for Killer today.
He’d made a whole list of places to look, and today he was going to explore the places where he thought Killer was most likely to go.
But he’d never search through everything in time if he kept waking up so late!
He growled to himself, pushing off the bedside and pulling a shirt out of one of the neat piles in his drawer.
Slipping it on, he turned his attention toward whatever was outside of his door.
He could already smell Dust’s signature scent— the smoke. He just.. hoped that he opened the windows before lighting it up.
Though, that was something he knew Dust was never capable of.
He sighed, and turned the handle.
Crackers ran into his room as soon as he opened the door, meowing loudly as if her life depended on it.
Scraps.. did anyone feed her?
Did CROSS feed her?
He was careful not to move as she paced around his feet, still yowling for food—
or attention, or clean air.
Cross couldn’t help but scowl at the thought of Dust continuing not to listen.
If it got this bad because of Dust, Cross was going to drown his precious cigarettes in water and take all his money so he wouldn’t be able to buy any more.
He decided to shut Crackers in his room, opening the windows and turning on the fan to hopefully clear it all out.
He had bigger fish to fry.
Much stinkier, uglier fish.
He turned the corner into their tiny living room, where Dust splayed out on their couch.
Dust was in the middle of exhaling a heavy breath of smoke, enjoying every last ounce of it before he noticed Cross was awake.
Cross walked up behind the couch, bending forward to grab the pack from his hands.
"Give that to me," he growled, not even trying to hide his annoyance.
Dust fumbled it back from his hands, taking all of his strength to bat him away.
“Wo-ahh.” He reeled backward into the cushions, pulling the box close to his chest.
His eyes weren't even focussing on anything.
Cross watched him zone in-and-out of consciousness, managing to easily pry the cigs out of his hands.
“The only way you’re gonna stop is if I take this away from you.”
He sneered, looking down at him. “Pull yourself together, how many times do I have to tell you??”
“Yeaahh..” The smoker drawled, waving his fingers at him. "d'ont worrrryyy."
Slurring his words, he dropped his head back into the armrest.
“Don’t youuu worry, worry about meee, Kiki,” Dust snickered to himself, staring through the ceilling.
Kiki is the name he uses for Killer.
Well, they'd all use it for Killer.. it was one of the nicknames he went by.
Some variation of that.
“You think this is funny??”
Cross snapped, barely able to hold back his anger.
It didn't help when Dust smiled, only feeding into the fire.
Though.. instead of his usual argument back, there.. wasn't any reply.
He didn't even seem the slightest bit offended by Cross's reaction.
His..reactions were completely off.
He seemed.. on a much more positive high.
"Fuck.." Cross grumbled under his breath, turning the box over in his hands.
“Do you even check if these are purely one drug? Or did you try something new this time??"
The box didn't have anything different written on the back, and everything was really, really off about it.
It was small, uninteresting.
Dust seemed completely relaxed, which was hard to imagine since he’d always been at least a little rugged and angsty.
It.. kind of reminded him of Killer.
Killer was a recovered addict— he’d told him.
Cross could only guess that Dust had been in the same rehabilitation centre.
Maybe they’d met there..
Cross shook his head.
He couldn’t make assumptions like that.
He wondered—
if Dust had injected himself with anything— or simply just smoked too much, or if this was a splicing situation.
That was dangerous.
Cross eyed the floor, fidgetting with the box in his hands.
The carpet was disturbed, but it wasn't anything new.
He was looking for needles, pricks- anything on the floor that he shouldn't walk over.. but it was spotless.
Then, he turned his attention to the side-table next to Dust's head.
It was a mess, covered in all sorts of things..
It was much more dangerous to splice drugs with alcohol, as the two things would cross into each other.
Even the most resilient monsters die from spliced drugs- just by a few drinks, or a few puffs.
It was..
The kind of thing that you don’t fuck with.
Cross padded around the couch, sliding the windows open and turning the ac on hoping to filter all the smoke out.
He shouldve done this earlier, but he wasn't thinking straight.
He pushed the box of Cigs-and-whatever-else into his pocket, deciding to deal with it later.
Cross moved into the kitchen.
He pulled a glass from one of the cupboards, hoping that water would help Dust sober up.
As much as Cross was upset about the smoking, he was still worried about Dust.
The guy was a friend, and he could tell that Killer’s absence made an impact on him.
Going over his memory now, it was clear that Dust hadn't been using as he did now.
Cross just wasn't paying enough attention to it.
Cross had assumed the worst.
There were times he’d snap— yes, but Killer was always there.
Not saying HE was exactly the reason Cross would hold back, but he was part of it.
It wasn't okay to yell.
Cross knew not to lose his temper like that.
It was just.. harder to think with his repeated use.
He made a space on the side-table, moving the mess away.
He placed the glass down, taking empty bottles to the trash.
Cross nudged Dust awake, helping him sit up.
“No more smoking,” Cross said, seriously.
“I need to look for Killer— and I’m bringing you with me as soon as you sober up enough to move for yourself.”
Dust stared at him, glazy-eyed..
he knew that he wasn't catching onto anything he was saying.
Cross didn’t care anymore about that, he’d explain it again another time.
When his mind is back on the ground.
He picked up the glass, forwarding it to Dust’s chest. “Drink up.”
Cross kept watch as he took the drink from his hand, trembling slightly as he lifted it to his teeth.
Cross.. didn’t intend on monitoring him for any longer than necessary—
he just didn’t want the guy to spill all over himself.
A sick, brutal cough came up as the water hit the back of Dust’s throat.
Cross.. didn’t want to treat him like a child— he was an adult, he could do this-
it just was so hard to look away when he didn’t even try to stop himself from getting this far in.
Cross leaned back, casting his gaze across the room toward his door.
Crackers was probably getting antsy, and she was known for her wild cord-chewing antics.
He should check up on her.
Dust tried again, to drink from the glass.
He was successful this time.
With that, Cross decided to leave him be. He refocussed on the cat’s food situation.
Cross checked every single cupboard, every box, everything.
there seemed to be nothing left for the cat, until.. he found one measly can of cat food in the bathroom.
He made quick work of feeding Crackers, so that she could fill her belly.
Cross knew that Killer wouldn’t leave his cat, not if he was ever actually going to move out.
He’d never leave Crackers, and he wouldn’t just..
Killer wouldn’t leave Cross wondering where he went like this—
Killer’d say something!
He knew that already, and he was keen on letting everyone else know that.
Cross dumped the slimy cat tuna in Crackers’s bowl, and was intending on feeding her in his room for the time being.
Only after all the smoke had circulated out— he could let her explore.
He took the bowl in one hand, stepping back out into the barely-living room.
When he opened his door, only a crack,
Crackers had practically jumped out into the living room.
She pushed past Cross, padding around to the couch with a satisfied little grin on her face, her tail raised high and mighty.
Cross’s eyes followed as she jumped up onto the back of the couch.
Her whole body language screamed “confident and brave,” as she prowled to her favourite spot, where Dust rested his head.
Cross followed, stepping up to the couch as she made her presence known— and heard, to the hooded figure in her spot.
Crackers chirped, like a meow cut in half, demanding his attention.
Dust.. silently moved his head forward, and Crackers crawled in to fill in the space.
It was.. a cute interaction between the two.
Cross was only reminded of the food in his hand when she had caught the scent, which in that time Dust had rested his head back on her side, like a pillow.
Her rumbles were very clear; sounding like a car engine. She kneaded the air infront of her in slow, gentle strokes.
“Oh. Crackers..” Cross shook his head, gently placing the bowl on the cushions between her arms.
She ate up quickly, and once she was done she gingerly slipped out from under Dust’s head like she wasn’t trapped at all.
Bits of tuna were caught in the wispy fur around her mouth, and under her chin.
Cross made quick work of cleaning her up, to her absolute shock and horror.
By the time Cross was done with that, he noticed that Dust had drank up all the water in his glass.
He’d set it on the table beside the couch, shifting his whole body around to lay back down.
Cross.. decided not to wake him up.
It’d be better if he slept off his high.
Crackers was fed, and Dust had been taken care of.
Cross decided to go on with what he had planned, starting with.. walking Crackers out to buy some food for her.
Usually, he’d shoot a text to Horror to pick up something for him.
He was further into the city’s shopping centre, where all the good things were.
But.. he knew that Killer didn’t depend on Horror for this specific thing.
Horror ”doesn’t know what Crackers prefers!”
Horror only “buys the cheap stuff!!!”
They all buy the cheap stuff, because they can barely afford to pay for the expensive stuff.
Cross didn’t exactly expect Killer to get that, though.
..Cross wished that Killer had left his wallet, so he didn’t have to spend HIS money on mewmew’s exotic kitty cat mush..
whatever it was called.
Crackers’s health was important— Cross had to remember that.
It was his job to keep her safe and healthy until Killer returned.
His job— his alone.
Cross searched for Crackers’s harnesses.
Killer had spent way too much money on them over the years, so much that he’d sorted out a couple of boxes of them in his room.
Cross.. was never a fan of entering someone’s room without permission, he always wanted to make sure it was absolutely okay.
Call it politeness, or whatever.
He stopped at Killer’s door.
Crackers hadn’t followed him up to here, instead, she laid on-top of Dust’s chest.
As if she was trying to heal him with her purrs, as if he was sick.
He was, but not in a way that her purrs could help.
..
Something made Cross feel wary, standing at Killer’s door.
Some part of him was still wanting him to answer when he knocked, another knowing he wasn’t there to answer.
Cross was the first one to find out that Killer had left.
He had been waiting outside his doorway for a few minutes, and what started out as him simply wanting to apologize had turned into him preparing himself for whatever he thought Killer could do to himself.
Killer was always morbid- always joked about death.
In their argument, Cross had let loose on his friend.
He brought up things they were trying to ignore, things that still stung to think about even now.
Things he should never have said—
Words Killer had said to him privately now spilled out in-front of an audience.
Cross creaked open the door, half-expecting Killer to be ‘hanging out.’
But Killer was gone.
Nowhere to be found.
There was a part of him that still expected him to be rotting somewhere, but Cross—
Cross couldn’t hold onto those false beliefs.
He couldn’t let it cloud his mind, he couldn’t do what Dust was doing to himself, and expect Killer just appear.
Maybe Dust saw Killer when he tripped..
but whatever kept him coming back to that addictive high wasn't real.
It couldn't hold him, couldn't speak to him in a way that mattered.
Cross just wanted his friend back.
Just thinking about what happened made his soul race a little more.
Tears ebbed around the corners of his eyes.
He wrapped a hand around the knob, taking a deep, shuddering breath in.
He knew that Killer wasn’t home— knew that there wasn’t anything in there.
Slowly, he turned the knob until he heard the click.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking around the room for a moment.
Nothing.
Cross didn’t know why he was being so paranoid, he didn’t know why he was shaking.
When he’d finally opened the door, he shuddered as if there was anything on the other side.
Annoyed with himself, he pushed into the room.
There wasn’t any reason for him to be reacting this way— he hadn’t FOUND anything!
He didn’t see anything.
Yet he trembled, like he did.
“Pull yourself together, Cross.”
He muttered to himself, gritting his teeth.
He found the boxes in Killer’s closet.
There were several outfits in there that Cross never even knew about.
He tried not to stay too long.
He grabbed a lead, and a few harnesses to try on, and bolted out of there.
When he began to close the door he.. unconsciously opened it again to check if Killer would appear that way.
Like opening the door of the fridge and getting disappointed when no food shows up.
He quickly did his makeup, and checked himself in his bedroom mirror.
Killer got him into lining his eyesockets- which he knew didn't make much of a difference- but..
It was a habit.
Cross put on a few messy layers of clothing.
The wilderness shirt Killer got for him that one roadtrip on top of it all, bearing the sad sad depiction of a wolf howling at a moon.
It was one of the things Killer thought was funny… and was sort of cool.
Cross shook his head, memories flooding in all disorienting which-ways, reminding him of what was.
He roughly rubbed his under-eyes, hoping to make the tears disappear.
He wanted to lay in bed forever, and eat junk food and bundle up and cry.
But.. the cat meowed and scratched at his door, reminding him of his responsibilities.
Pulling his sleeve away, he didn’t look back at the mirror..
knowing the reflection would only make him feel worse.
..
Crackers followed him as he stepped into the hall toward the front door.
She meowed, and chirped, and rubbed up on his leg excitingly.
“Calm down, Crackers..” Cross shifted, sorting through the harnesses in his hands.
He was still shaken up from entering Killer’s room, and sorting through his stuff.
It wasn’t anything serious,
yet he nearly cried. TWICE.
He couldn’t explain it more than a deep soul-ache, and a yearning to see Killer again.
Like a loyal dog who hadn’t seen his owner in decades, he was still waiting.
Still waiting, no matter what.
Crackers meowed up at him, returning his focus to the present.
He’d been staring at the wall with his outdoor shoes on.
He looked over his shoulder, casting a wary glance back at the room behind him.
She meowed again, more demanding, helping him tear his eyes away.
Cross unlocked the door, turning the knob around to see the bland, old apartment complex hallway.
He sighed, taking a deep breath in.
It would be good to take a walk.
Good to think about anything other than Killer, or what happened between them.
Stepping out into the open hall, he exhaled. He could do this.
Crackers walked ahead of him, urging him to keep up.
Cross hoped Killer was okay.
He hoped that everything will go back to normal— that he could go back to calling Killer a friend, with no bad blood between them.
he hoped
Crackers led him toward the elevator, and they rode down to the first floor.
Cross walked slowly, keeping to himself.
The cat's harness jingled with every step, alerting mostly everyone of her very fashionable presence.
The receptionist lady was talking to a skeleton, who looked.. strangely familiar.
Colourful, shiny rainbow smoke rose from the side of his head, and he looked exhausted— and confused, and concerned.
Cross passed by, walking faster to avoid whatever they were talking about.
He didn’t need to eavesdrop.
He has things to do today.
The door bell dinked as he pushed past it, into the dim autumn afternoon.
He breathed a deep breath of fresh air, a smile forming on his face.
Freedom, maybe.
Cross only got a few steps away when he heard the same dink-ing sound..
which alerted him to the footsteps running up behind him.
A hand on his shoulder spun him around, until he and the rainbow-skeleton faced eye-to-eye.
“Killer?”