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Living alone for so long has its perks: one of them being the sound of someone else in the house becomes very, very obvious.
This ultimately thwarts any intruder’s plan, but, well, Purple’s also gotten used to the kinds of sounds that should be in their house. One of them being the unmistakably fumbling around that came from one of their most dangerous friends: The Dark Lord.
Now, Purple’s friends with a lot of dangerous people. Most of which either tried to kill them, or vice versa. So maybe Purple is also considered a dangerous person to be friends with? That’s actually kinda flattering. It makes them sound so cool.
But The Dark Lord was definitely in their house. Bumping into tables, by the sound of it. Purple winces as they leave their console on their bed — a device Green had gotten them so they could play games together — and inches to the hallway. Now that they were out of their room, they could hear Dark’s fumbling even more clearly now, coupled with his occasional wince and frustrated growl. Maybe he’d gotten hurt again? Purple sighs internally. Guess today was going to be a “helping bandage up” day instead of a “sparring together” day.
Shaking their head, they call out, “Dark, where are you hurt?” Purple trudges into their living room and yawned, already making a mental list of all the medical supplies they still had left over. They’re pretty sure the burn cream was almost out, so hopefully there wasn’t any fire-related injuries today.
They stop and stare. Dark is already staring back, although something about his stance was… off. He stood at the other end of the table, hands gripping the edge so tightly Purple was genuinely a little worried for said table. He better not crush it with his strange Hollowhead super strength. Dark himself was also a bit shrunken away, face drawn down yet eyes wide and ablaze.
He was eyeing Purple’s movements, they quickly realized. Each little twitch of step had Dark immediately zeroing in, tense. Purple frowned. It had been weeks since they were at this stage of caution. Just a few days ago Dark had been around and helped them organize their room, rambunctiously laughing all the while. Did something happen? Something dangerous that might have invoked such behavior?
Ah — if something did happen, then Dark would be injured. Purple scans their friend again, taking note of a bruising cheek and a tear at his side that was partially hidden away. Other than that — and a bit of tussled up hair — Dark seemed relatively okay. At least not at the level of injury that would’ve explained his wariness. So what exactly happened?
“Dark? Are you okay?” Purple asks slowly. They take a step forward, which proves to be the wrong move.
Dark’s head snaps towards their foot, then shrinks impossibly further back. His lips pull back to show off an array of sharp teeth. With an almost shaky voice, he grits out, “Don’t — don’t come here.”
Immediately, Purple stops. They know better than to walk right at a cornered animal with nothing left to do but bite.
“I won’t,” they say, gentle. Purple takes their foot back and spreads their hands. “I’m right on the other side of the table. I won’t move if you don’t want me to.”
Dark didn’t look like he believe them. He was still locked intensely on their figure.
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” Dark claims immediately. Still wary.
“Are you…sure?” Purple blinks pointedly at the wound on his side, which is now a bit more visible.
“Uh huh.” Dark frowned down at himself. “I — I don’t need help. Can do it myself.”
“Do what? Bandage yourself?” Purple bit their lip. “Uhhh, I guess you could. But are you sure you can see well?”
“Uh huh.” Quiet. Then, another warning growl when Purple raises an eyebrow.
They’re not so stupid that they couldn’t realize something was deeply, deeply wrong. For one, Dark had no reason to be suspicious or cautious of Purple. They’d spent weeks dismantling distrust — between the two of them — and settled into a somewhat steady friendship. As steady as friendship can get with an infamous terrorist half-virus stick and a stick who attempted to kill their friends multiple times.
The second reason being that Dark was talking… weirdly. This was one thing Purple couldn’t quite place either. He was talking weird, but they weren’t sure what type of weird. Or maybe this kind of speech was a result of a concussion that he’d received alongside his injuries? Purple worried their bottom lip between their teeth, wracking their brain for a way to get Dark to calm down enough so they could treat him.
The third was mostly Dark’s eyes. Something about them just seemed so… doe-like? Or maybe not that, but just… Purple, again, couldn’t match a word to this. His eyes were wide and a bit glassy, but not foggy as a sign of poison or drugging. Actually, now that Purple thinks harder, it was almost the opposite of a fog which clouded his eyes. It was more like… a terribly raw openness. Vulnerability.
Ah, that’s what it was. Vulnerability. Wait, but that still doesn’t explain Dark’s aversion towards Purple in his moment of vulnerability. They’d patched him up during worse injuries, when he was far more susceptible to tricks by Purple!
So this was definitely some kind of mind-fuckery. Purple just had to figure out what happened to him.
For now, they have to tread carefully.
“Okay.” Their tone becomes impossible softer. Welcoming. Hopefully, safe. “You can patch yourself up. I can grab the supplies for you. But if you need help, you can ask me, okay?”
Dark’s eyebrows furrow, as though he couldn’t comprehend the reason why Purple was being so gentle now. Hesitatingly, he says, “You — you won’t come close? Won’t touch me?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
Dark considers this option for a while, eyes cast down and darting from side to side as he contemplated. Purple’s heart was absolutely racing, pounding so hard they were worried Dark’s inhuman hearing might pick up on their worry. Their eyes trail down to the tiny puddle of blood Dark was slowly dripping onto the floor.
“Okay,” Dark eventually says. “You go get.”
“Get… oh! The supplies. Right, sorry, yeah.” Purple quickly tears their gaze away and turns around. They quickly head over to their TV, falling onto their knees to open the drawers underneath it and pulling out the various medical supplies they had stored away. They hurried, trying to quickly get them to Dark so he’d stop bleeding out all over the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like burn cream was needed. That shit was expensive.
They turn around and is met with Dark’s intense gaze again, only this time it was filled with less wariness and more…observation? Dare they say, curiosity? As if there was anything to be curious about. Dark had rummaged through these drawers just as much as Purple had.
Whatever. Purple approaches the other end of the table again. “Do you want to sit down at the table?” They offer, still holding onto the supplies. “It’ll be easier.”
“Okay.” Dark doesn’t move.
“Um, you’ll have to let go of the table first.”
Slowly, painstakingly slow, Dark relaxed his iron grip on the table and pulled his hands close to himself.
“And… you’ll probably want to sit now?” Purple suggests.
Again, with that same slowness — and with a bit of a wince — Dark pulls the chair out and lowers himself onto it. Finally seeing him settled down, Purple breathes a sigh of relief. Dark looks up at them, almost expectant. Like he was waiting for them to say something? The fuck is he waiting for, a “good job”?
“Do you want me to slide these over to you,” Purple says, “or are you okay with me coming over to hand them to you?”
Dark frowns again, bottom lip poking out. “Can you… come slow?” he says quietly, so quietly that Purple actually has no idea what he said.
“Huh? Repeat that?”
“Come…slowly? Come over here slowly?” Dark almost seemed to struggle with saying these things, as if he was forgetting what words he was supposed to string together in a coherent sentence.
Ohhhhh. Purple takes a deep breath and begins to inch around the table, heart thundering yet again. Dark follows them the whole way through, eyes wide and shoulders drawn close. When Purple gets closer, the eyes slowly turn more and more guarded, until Dark was glaring up at Purple. Rude.
“I’m gonna put it down on the table in front of you,” Purple says — or, rather, warns. Slowly, they set the items down, a slight thump following each supply that almost sends Dark into flinches. They try to set it down as gently as possible. “You should treat your cut first. I can get you a wet rag to wipe away the blood first.”
“Mhm,” Dark only hums in reply with a nod. Still a bit nervous. “Smells like blood.”
“I…guess.” Purple couldn’t smell it, but they supposed it makes sense that Dark would. “I’m walking away now.”
“Okay,” Dark mumbles. Even as they back away, Purple keeps an eye on Dark. They watch as he picks roots around the pile of medical supplies, not making much move to grab anything yet. Purple was already feeling exhausted. They’d never had to exert so much carefulness around somebody before, and it was tiring both in the sense of the action itself and the worry that came with messing up. They weren’t really sure what would happen if Dark suddenly felt like Purple was a threat — maybe burn their house down — but they weren’t in a hurry to find out.
Once they were a fair distance away, Purple was quick with the motion of grabbing a rag from the kitchen and wetting it under the sink. The running water, at least, provided some kind of pressure breaker, and they tried to relax as the noise filled the tense atmosphere. Once Dark was properly cleaned up, what were they to do next? The best case scenario would be that Dark would realize with time that Purple posed no threat whatsoever, and confided in them what caused his strange behavior. The worst — maybe most realistic — case scenario would be Dark continues to be wary, and his messed up head would further prevent him from being able to explain what happened.
And Purple quite literally had no one to turn to for assistance — they couldn’t imagine what their other friends would do if they found out about this secret friend.
Purple shuts off the water, the rag dripping into the sink. They wring a bit of it out so it doesn’t drop all over the floor, but still maintains enough moisture to clean all the blood. “I’m coming back now, Dark,” they call as they turn around. Dark looked up at them slowly. “Is that okay?”
A moment passes. Then, Dark nodded.
“Are you sure?” Purple stressed. They weren’t too comfortable moving on cue of a head nod rather than verbal confirmation.
“Sure,” Dark says meekly.
“Okay. Coming over now.”
This time around, Dark was less tense as Purple approached. His hand was already outstretched, fingers spread open wide, and awaiting the rag. Dutifully, Purple drops the rag into his hand.
“You sure you don’t need help?” Purple asks, just for good measure. “I can help. Are you sure you’ll be able to wrap the bandage around yourself?”
Dark only nodded again, bringing the rag close to himself and beginning to dab away the blood. “Can do it,” he claims, focused on cleaning himself. “You — you can’t touch me.”
“I won’t!” Purple exclaims. They were starting to get a little frustrated. They were never good at being gentle for so long. Dark’s hand shakes a little at their loud voice. Trying not to groan, Purple lowers their tone. “I already said I won’t. Not unless you told me to. But I will still ask, because I still think you need help.”
“You’re not allowed to touch me,” Dark says, wincing again as the rag brushes against the open cut. “You’re — you can’t. Not allowed. ‘Ts a rule.”
“What? A rule?” Purple couldn’t help the scoff that escapes. “Like you ever follow rules. You’re constantly breaking the law.”
It’s usually a joke between the two of them — what with Dark’s previous aggressions against all of stick-kind. And non-stick kind. He quite frankly had offended anything that could be offended. This rule thing is ridiculous.
“Cho says so,” Dark mutters again. “‘Ts a rule. Not ‘pposed to let people touch me. Not when I — not when ‘m like this.”
Purple freezes. They freeze and feel their stomach absolutely plummet. Dread creeps up their spine. Cho says so. Not when I’m like this. Was this a common occurrence? Dark gets… weird often? Weird enough that boundaries had to be set? And who the hell was this “Cho” character?
…Actually, that seemed like a pretty obvious answer. There was only one other person seen in those attacks:
The Angel of Death.
Now, Dark had never disclosed any information on the Angel — or, Cho, as he’s apparently called — to Purple. They’d asked, once. Asked why he was always hanging out here instead of parading the streets with the Angel of Death anymore. Dark’s faced had closed off immediately, shoulders hiking up. The way the air around them had collapsed spoke to Purple that they were never to bring him back up again. But the way Dark spoke of Cho now… cursors, they weren’t even sure what to make of this. The whole situation was so weird.
When Purple doesn’t say anything, Dark pipes up hesitantly: “I listen to Cho. He makes rules ‘nd I don’t like ‘em, but he says his rules keep me safe when I can’t keep me safe, so I listen.”
“Uh… huh….” Purple says, far away.
“So you can’t touch me,” Dark adds helpfully. He reaches for a cream and begins to seal his wound with it. “Not till I’m big again.”
“…Big…” Purple whispers, still confused as fuck.
Dark nodded. “I’m doing good at listenin’. Am I doin’ good?” He looks back up at Purple when he asks this, expectant.
“Uhhh…” Purple blinks. “The…goodest?”
Appeased, Dark finally lets a ghost of a smile grace his lips. He returns to his wound, now moving on to the gauze. Purple can only watch, helpless and confused and so not prepared for whatever the fuck that was.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay. So first off, maybe this wasn’t? Some kind of mind-fuckery? Like they originally thought? Or, if it was mind-fuckery, it was familiar enough to at least Dark himself that he knew how to handle it. Should Purple just wait until he recovers and comes back again before asking about it? It’s not like they’re gonna be getting anywhere like this. Especially if Dark had more rules to follow to keep himself safe.
Safe from what? From who? From Purple? To be fair, with the way Dark was acting now, Purple probably could beat him in a fight. Or probably trick him easily. Oh shit, is that it? Cho didn’t want people to take advantage of Dark’s vulnerable mental state while he was…
He said he couldn’t be touched until he was “big”. So he’s, what, small? Small now?
“All done,” Dark finally says, snapping Purple out of their thoughts. Shit, how long were they just standing there? Dark had finished wrapping the bandage around himself, as well as applied a bandage to his cheek. He looks at Purple, then gestures to the discarded medical supplies.
“Awesome,” Purple says weakly. “I’ll clean this up. In the meantime, you can — uh, are you tired? You could go nap.”
“Nuh uh,” Dark mutters. “Not tired. Not gonna nap.”
“…Well what do you want to do?”
“Dunno. Games?”
“I have my console?” Purple offers. Dark nodded enthusiastically. “Okay. It’s in my room. You know where —“
Rapping knocking suddenly pounds from the door, and Purple startles. Dark, as well, flinches, suddenly looking towards the door in horror. Shit.
“PURPLEEEEE ARE YOU HOME!!!” Green’s voice shouts. Purple flails around in a panic.
“Shit, shit,” they mutter. “Dark, Dark, go hide. Hide in my room. I’ll get Green to go away.”
“Won’t — won’t come in?”
“No, no, he won’t. I’ll tell him to go away.” Green was getting really insistent now.
“Promise?” Dark looked up at them with big, round, scared eyes and — suddenly it clicked. Purple wasn’t looking back at The Dark Lord. They were looking down at a little kid.
“Promise.” Purple smiled reassuringly. Holy fuck.
“PURPLE ARE YOU HOME??? YOU SAID WE’D HANG OUT TODAY!!!”
“I did?” Purple whispers to themself as Dark dutifully hurried to their room, shutting the door. They think back. “Shit, I did. Whoops.”
Once Purple was certain Dark was hidden from view, they rush to the door and fling it open. Green’s fist was still coming in for a knock, so they have to twist to the side to avoid being hit. Green startles, bringing his hand back. “Shit! Sorry, didn’t expect you to open the door out of nowhere.”
“You were knocking like the world ended,” Purple says dryly, “what was I meant to do?”
Green chuckled. “I guess. I’m just excited! Come on, I have this thing to show you and —“
“Ah!” Purple side-stepped to block Green from entering. Green pulled back to look at them with a confused face. “Um, now might not be a good time…”
“What?” Green’s face twisted. “But we’ve planned this for a whole week? I was excited! I wanted to hang out!”
Purple softened a bit, but their guard was still up. They were too-very aware of Dark in their house. “I-I know. I was excited too. But, just, not right now, okay? Sorry. Something came up.”
“What? Can I help?” Green’s eyes turned pleading. “I’m very cool! And strong! And capable!”
“I know you are, Green,” Purple says. “But it’s — um, it’s something personal, okay? I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Purple,” Green whined. He pouted, crossing his arms. “We never hang out anymore! You’re always busy with something!”
“No I’m —“ They think back to the last few times they were supposed to hang out with Green. Coincidentally, the last two times were also cancelled due to Dark’s appearance in their house. Maybe they should start planning their hangouts at Alan’s PC instead… “Oh. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Green huffed, but eventually sighed and deflated. His arms uncrossed as he looked at the ground. “Look, I — I’m not mad. Not mad at you. I guess I’m a little mad at this situation. I mean, thrice has gotta be a curse, right?”
“No,” Purple says gently. “Twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern. Fourth becomes a curse.”
Green nodded. “Right. Don’t get cursed, Purple.”
“I’d just have you break it for me.”
“Then maybe it’s me that’ll get cursed,” Green muses, and Purple opens their mouth to assure him that No, Green, you’re not cursed, what the fuck, and even if you were why does it sound like you don’t think I’d help you break it, but is cut off as he continues, “Well, good luck with whatever it is you’re dealing. And if you need help, don’t hesitate about reaching out to me, alright?”
“Sure,” Purple says, and has a moment to laugh to themself about how they were literally saying that to Dark earlier. “I’m sorry, again. Next time, we’ll hang out at the PC. It’s probably better.”
“Hiding something in your house?” Green jokes. “Something I can’t see?”
With all seriousness, Purple levels him with a stare and says, “Yup.”
Green shrugs. “Okay. Well, I’ll get going then. We’ll text?”
“I’ll call you later,” Purple promises, and that makes Green brighten up. They wave goodbye as Green walks off, finally breathing out a sigh of relief as they close the door. Purple leans against the door, dragging a hand down their face.
How troublesome. Sometimes Purple thinks being friends with Dark brings more trouble than merit. Actually, most of the time they think that. Even if set aside the fact that Dark was a highly wanted and dangerous terrorist, he also has got, like, some bad history with Purple’s friends. So. Yeah. Lots of trouble.
Speaking of Dark…
Purple peels themself away from the door and cautiously walks towards their own room. The door’s closing had been pretty loud, but it seems Dark wasn’t assured enough to leave the sanction of their room. Purple pauses as they approach the door, then knocks softly.
“Dark? It’s Purple,” they call out. “Green’s gone. We’re alone, promise. You’re safe.”
There’s no reply.
“Dark?” Purple says, trying not to feel the panic steadily rising. “It’s just me. Can you say something to let me know you heard me?”
Still no reply.
Shitttttttt. “I’m coming in, now,” Purple warns. “In three, two… one.”
Purple twists open the door and pushes it open. Immediately, they scan the room, eyes following on the curled up, slightly shaking figure in the bed. Unmistakably Dark-shaped, it was wrapped up tightly in the blankets. Purple closes the door behind them and walks over slowly. “Dark?” they call, soft again. Ugh, being so careful was getting them annoyed again. Calm down. They’re dealing with a kid here. “Are you okay?”
A muffle answers from the roll.
“What was that? Can you speak a little louder?” Purple tries.
“Tryna…” comes the ever-faint response, “tryna get big…”
“Oh.” Purple swallows. Somehow, that struck something in their heart. They sit down on the edge of the bed. “Dark? You don’t have to be big if you can’t. You’re safe now. Green isn’t here.”
“Not s’pposed to be small ‘nyways,” Dark whispers under the blankets. “Not safe. Not without Cho.”
“You’re safe with me, Dark,” Purple says, trying to put as much genuine care into their words as possible. “I won’t hurt you. You…” they hesitate slightly, “you’re small right now, aren’t you?”
“Mhm…”
“That’s okay. You can be small if you want. As small as you want.” They scoot a bit closer. “But let’s get you out of those blankets, okay? It must be hot. You don’t want to melt, do you?”
“No…” It sounded like it was genuinely one of Dark’s concerns not to melt.
“Okay. I won’t touch you, but I’ll help you take the blanket off if you need it. Do you need my help?”
“Won’t touch?”
“Not you. Just the blanket.”
Dark is quiet for another moment. “Okay.”
So, with meticulous care, Purple reaches out and grasps the blanket. They peel it back, prompting Dark to wiggle to get himself out of it as well. Fluffy red hair pokes out, followed by an arm, and then Dark’s face looks at them, open and wide and so unmistakably little. Purple takes a deep breath as they set the blanket aside, watching as Dark slowly sits criss-crossed on the bed.
“So…are you, uh, small a lot?” Purple asks.
“Not anymore,” Dark answers. “Not without Cho. Try not to withou’ Cho.”
“Okay. And, um, do you do this…intentionally? Like, is it a power of yours?”
Dark’s face scrunched up, almost in confusion. “Not…can’t use powers when small,” he reports.
“That’s not what I —“ Purple stops themself. “I mean, why are you small? Do you choose it?”
Dark shrugs. “Just am.”
“…Ah.” Maybe they should’ve known better than to ask questions from a little kid like this.
“‘Ts a rule,” Dark explains. “No powers. Cho says. Says gon’ hurt myself.”
Thank cursors Cho had the sense to establish that rule. Purple was very glad they both agreed a child shouldn’t be throwing around fireballs. “Oh, well, you’re, um, doing a very good job at following those rules,” they say, and that causes Dark to smile, so that was good, right? “So, if you’re little, do you have an age for it? Do you know how old you are?”
“Uhh… four?” Dark frowns down as he brings up his fingers and counts, then nods. “Four!”
“Oh, wow — four, huh?” What the fuck that is so young. Huh. Purple just has a four year old terrorist in their house now?????????
“Can we play now?” Dark asks, tilting his head.
“My console?” Purple asks, and Dark nodded. “Yeah… I can find it. Let’s see where you kicked it…”
They find the console on the ground, tossed aside with Dark’s fumbling under the blanket. When they return with it in hand, Dark wastes no time leaning over them to watch as they booted it up. Purple freezes, barely breathing as they tried so hard not to allow even a hair to touch Dark. Fuck. But they couldn’t just? Tell him to go away?? So now they were stuck in an uncomfortably rigid position.
“What we playing?” Dark asks curiously once the device was all loaded.
“Umm… what do you want to play?” Purple asks.
Dark squints as Purple showcases the very games they already owned. Eventually, after three rounds of surveying the same things, Dark points at a game. Purple dutifully opens up Super Mario Party.
Once they set everything up and hand it off to Dark, it’s actually… kind of nice. Or, well, nicer than before. A little Dark engrossed in a game is much better than a tense Dark staring at Purple like they might attack him. Although now it was understanding why he might think that. Purple wonders if this kind of thing would happen more often. If Dark wouldn’t be so cautious next time, they actually wouldn’t mind babysitting. It might take a while to get used to, but then again, they’d almost been deleted via a super-charged Minecraft block staff, so maybe weird was now the new norm.
So Dark plays games on their console while Purple sits next to him and watches, congratulating every once in a while when Dark looks to them expectantly for praise. And all the while, Purple is very careful not to touch him.
Dark goes to sleep after a while, in which Purple has to fight him vigorously to agree to a nap. Seems like even someone mentally a child would still fight the idea of lying down for a bit of sleep. Purple themself watched over Dark until they were sure he’d dozed off, then trudged over to the chair of their desk and collapsed, exhausted. Who knew taking care of a kid would be this tiring?
When they wake up, it’s to Dark’s beady black eyes staring right at them.
Purple yelps, a hand shooting out to bat away the danger — but was foiled by their own grogginess, as they failed spectacularly at that task. Dark stared at them, unimpressed. He stands up from where he was crouching to be at Purple’s eye level.
“Oh — you’re up,” Purple says with a slight groan, rubbing their eyes. It’d been around noon when Dark had first showed up, and one glance at the window told them that it was approaching the evening. They sit up straight, wincing when their aching back screeched in protest. That will be the last time they sleep in such a position.
Well. Unless a certain someone took over their bed again…
Purple glances nervously at Dark, noticing immediately the stoic way he held himself. Now that — at least they assume — Dark had returned to his usual self, they couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Would they get their ass beat for encroaching on Dark during such a vulnerable state? Then again, Dark was the one who crashed into their house in the first place. Maybe they’d get beat simply because Dark was embarrassed? Although, Dark didn’t seem all too embarrassed about what transpired. In fact, he didn’t seem too keen on revealing any of the emotions he was feeling right now.
Purple wrangled their hands together. “Um…” They began, but couldn’t really find what they wanted to say.
Dark decided to save them the trouble. “I wish you didn’t see that,” he says. Simple and blank.
“It’s… I didn’t mind,” Purple replies after a beat. “I’m sure I’ve seen weirder stuff.”
Dark looked a bit miffed. “It’s not — weird. Don’t call it that.”
“I’m sorry,” Purple says earnestly. “It’s not weird. You’re right.”
This frustrated Dark even more, who groaned and waved his hand dismissively. “Stop — talking like that,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m — like I’m still little. I’m not. Not anymore. I just, I’m, fuck.” He stops speaking abruptly. “I wasn’t supposed to… you weren’t supposed to know.”
“Is that another rule?” Purple tries.
Dark, in his fit of irritation, managed a cruel laugh. “Fuck! Shit, you were never supposed to know. Fucking…”
“Dark, I really don’t care,” Purple says, trying to lean back and crack their back. “Genuinely. It’s not… I mean, it’s okay for you to feel small sometimes.”
“Fuck off,” Dark grits. But he doesn’t shout anymore.
Purple smiles. “You’re the one in my house. Why don’t you fuck off?” When that managed a slight chuckle from Dark, they relax. “So, is kid-you like, gone now? He gonna be back anytime soon?”
“There’s no kid-me,” Dark says, crossing his arms. “No adult-me. Just, just me. I’m not another person when I’m… I’m me, just littler.”
“Okay.” Purple nodded. “You are way more likable as a kid,” they add.
Dark scowls. “Can you stop talking about it now?”
Grinning, Purple continues, “After you got over your fear of me, of course. You really liked playing on my console, and —“
“Purple.” Dark’s voice dripped with venom, and suddenly Purple realized he was serious. Shit. “I said drop it.”
“I… what’s wrong?” Purple asks with a frown. “I told you it’s fine. It’s okay. When it happens next time I’ll be here to help you—“
“No you won’t.”
“Wh — yes I will! I literally said —“
“There won’t be a next time.”
Purple’s mouth falls open slightly in shock. What? “I told you it was okay to be small. You can trust me. I —“
“It doesn’t matter.” Dark turned to the side, and his face suddenly closed off, far away. “There won’t be a next time.”
Purple opens their mouth to argue, but stops themself last second. Dark had that far-off look in his eyes again, the one that screamed some kind of conflicted heartbreak Purple wasn’t and will never be privy to. Something that even Dark didn’t seem like he could name.
…Something Purple was starting to think linked back to the Angel of Death.
So they shut their mouth. And, for now, they drop it.