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Fear and Love are Often Confused

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“Cross.”

The monochrome-clad monster blinked himself out of his stupor and turned to look into the eyes of Dream, bright golden orbs trained on him in worry. The smaller put a golden glove on Cross’ shoulder, alleviating the anxious expression from the taller’s face.

The two were alone in the royal garden. The sun shone bright across the ground, causing each individual blade of grass to glow with refracted light. Flowers of every hue surrounded them, and the air was rich with the aroma of lilies and daisies.

“What is it?”

Dream sighed and rested his head on Cross’ shoulder. “Why do you… always act like that around me?”

Cross stiffened and fiddled with the oversized blade in his hand. “I don’t know what you mean. Are you not… happy?”

Dream didn’t give an immediate answer, deciding to nestle his cheek into the fluff of Cross’ jacket instead. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“That’s it. Why do you always ask me that? I mean… I understand that we’re in a relationship and all, but…” A kitten yawn escaped Dream, and Cross’ face was instantly dusted with purple blush. He slipped his arm around the sleepy skeleton and pulled him closer.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

“I can tell.”

“...”

“Cross…”

“Yes my love?”

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

For a moment, Cross’ breathing halted.

One wrong move on his part would incinerate every blade of grass until the dirt is coated with ashes. A wrong move could cause the sky to darken, the civilization to collapse. The animals would slowly die with hoarse whispers, the flesh of their brothers and sisters strewn across the ground, staining the world red. The world would devolve into a cannibalistic frenzy, and every thing capable of thought would think no longer. Joy would no longer exist. Peace would be nothing but an ancient legend to those trapped in a never-ending inferno of agony, chained with no hope of escape.

And surveying the carnage, upon a throne of blood-tainted bones, would be the one responsible. Its one eye would train its searing gaze on anything that smiled, detecting any delight it could smell with growing jubilation, licking its serrated teeth. It would eagerly eat away at the positive aura, and then start on the physical matter, voraciously stripping away the ribcage to find something meatier underneath. Once done, it would lick the floor clean of blood.

None of the demon’s bones were attached. It’s spinal cord was shattered into unrecognizable bits; each vertebrae was detached, voluntarily snapped in half to create an unnatural, snake-like flexibility. It would never walk, using its tentacles to carry it like a warped spider while its arms and legs dangled uselessly.

On the crazed beast’s head would be a small golden crown, curving into two small spirals in the center.

And in its teeth would be tatters and bits of a black and white scarf.

“Cross?”

“...”

Cross looked down. Dream’s eyes were a gorgeous hue of yellow, glowing even brighter with reflecting sunshine. He was cuddled into Cross’ side as if he were a small child, his forearms wrapped around Cross’ waist. The sweet melody of birds was in the distance.

“It’s fine, Dreamy. I just want to keep you smiling.”