Chapter Text
After Nightmare had been in the attic long enough to have searched it twice, Dust climbed up the ladder and heard Cross telling Nightmare that he couldn't take it anymore.
His Soul clenched at that. They needed to keep a closer eye on Cross or he might do something reckless.
Just as Cross started falling apart in Nightmare's hold, Dust retreated back down to tell the others that Cross had been found.
He didn't tell them what he knew about what Cross had intended to do, only that Nightmare was with him and that they shouldn't ask any questions when they came back down from the attic. He gave Killer and Horror meaningful looks.
Later, Nightmare helped Cross down from the attic and lead him to the room they had put Cross in after they found him on the riverbank a little over a month ago. There he gentled him down on the bed and they sat there almost like they had in the attic.
Cross had picked up Killer's knife before they came down and had put it on the nightstand next to the bed.
They basked in the silence a short while, before the others filtered into the room, Dream rushing ahead of everyone else and running up to the bed.
"Cross! Where have you been? We were looking for you everywhere. We were so worried."
"Slow down, Dream," Nightmare halted him, "nothing happened and Cross is fine. But he's tired and needs to rest."
"I'm sorry i worried you," Cross mumbled tiredly. "I... needed to think about stuff."
"And you found Killer's knife," Dust exclaimed to nip any questions about it in the bud. "Killer lets his things lying around all over the place. Thank you for picking it up for him."
Cross shot him a brief grateful glance, but didn't say anything. Nightmare, Horror and Killer caught up on what Dust was doing and played along.
"Yeah," Killer said, "i would forget my skull if it weren't attached," he joked. The corner of Cross' mouth twitched upwards at that.
After that they didn't let Cross out of their sight, treading on eggshells a few days.
Cross finally accepted that the gang truly cared about him, not just from obligation because he helped Error or something. They really unconditionally cared for him like his brothers would.
They were there for him, helped him on his bad days and joked and bantered with him on the good ones, after he got over his depressive episode.
He grew weaker during that, at least his pains didn't seem to get worse for now. But he was bedbound again, too weak to make it even to the door before his strength would give out on him.
He knew it couldn't be long now anymore. His father predicted that he wouldn't make it to his eighteenth birthday, which would be in two months.
With the finish line in sight, knowing he would already be dead in two months, Cross found a peace he couldn't remember ever having felt before. It made it easier to ignore his pains and aches and relish the antics of his friends.
Only, he remembered what Nightmare said to him in the attic about seeing his brothers again. He knew it wasn't going to happen. That's why he had written a letter to his brothers to apologize and say goodbye, he would ask the gang to deliver it when he was gone, as his last wish. He kept it hidden in his inventory.
With everything planned out and taken care of as best as he could on his side, Cross took to enjoy what time he had left, watching one of the others' livestreams where Killer picked assholes in the pedestrian area by the shopping mall, who blocked disabled parking lots or did other rude shit, and pranked them in different ways, while he filmed everything with the live-feeding go-pro hidden the breast pocket of his jacket and commenting and talking to the viewers online via his micro-headset. Or watching Videos on the laptop Error had repaired or being read to by Nightmare.
One day, while reading to Cross again, Nightmare looked up in thought and eyed the calendar on the wall. "Cross, when was the last time you had a seizure? I get the feeling it's been quite some time, no?"
Cross, who had listened to Nightmare's pleasant reading with his eyes closed, opened them to look at his friend. "Dunno... been a while... sometime 'tween Killer's prank-stream... and the one where Horror made those brownies."
Those had been delicious, Cross remembered. Him and his chocolate addiction. He was pretty sure at least Night and Dust had noticed, they were the most observant of the bunch. Maybe Horror too, he had a keen eye whenever food was involved.
Nightmare looked contemplative as he counted in his head. "That means you hadn't have a seizure in at least three weeks. That's something, i guess."
"I guess," Cross agreed hesitantly.