Discarded Oreo

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inspired by Poisonous Positivity by Nestle25 and The Bad Sans Poly Find Their Missing Oreo by Magyka13

forgot to mention, these are from Archive Of Our Own, whoops

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He'd been missing for a little over a year, that one.

Disowned, abandoned, forgotten by the Stars, the Bad Guys, the Multiverse.

Lost to solitude once more, alone with nothing but himself.

Cross was ashamed to say that he'd sank lower than anyone he'd ever known. He wandered the Multiverse, hiding in the shadows, stealing from places off the map.

His home was a half-destroyed, yet stable Fell AU. Nothing was left living.

He walked around with a horrible feeling, like he was lost. And he was.

The aching feeling of loss, grief, clung to his every waking hour. Those few hours of sleep were plagued with dreams. Silly moments he had with his team. Moments where Dream seemed to care. Where Nightmare cared. Where someone cared.

Cross had long since given up on trying to go back, on trying to be found. No one was looking for him anyway. He'd accepted that from day one.

Maybe every two weeks, he'd leave, just for a moment, to get something to eat. That was when he could muster the will.

Then his birthday came.

He woke up, some childish part of him wanting to go have fun. To celebrate. But it was smothered under a wave of pain and memories of his last birthday. 

"Happy Birthday, oreo."

"happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, criss-cross!"

"Feliz cumpleaños, Cross."

"Happy Birthday, Cross!"

Like a broken record, voices from that day played over and over. Dust, Horror, Killer, Nightmare, Dream. He mouthed the words. "Happy birthday, Cross." He whispered to himself and burst into soft tears.

-

Nightmare blinked, his slime rippling as he felt that familiar spike of negativity. It was stronger than before.

He made a note to hunt it down another day, leaving it on his desk.

-

The note was forgotten beneath a pile of papers.

-

On the second birthday alone, he decided something. A goal similar to his time as the X-event. No one else deserved happiness. Why should he be suffering?

Some part of him cried out against this, calling him selfish, begging him to rethink it. He locked that part away, and tore open a portal. Oversized knife in hand, Cross stepped through. It was time people remembered him.

-

Nightmare jolted awake as power funneled through him. He slurred out a noise, confused. Was Error destroying something? No, he could sense the destroyer, who was sleeping on the couch in the living room. The rest of the gang was sleeping as well. Nightmare groaned, shaking his head. Asylumtale must've had a reset.

-

Dust rained from Cross's fuzzy coat, each step shaking more of the powder free. His blood-stained sword fizzled away in a cloud of pixels. Cross stared at his trembling fingers, adrenaline rushing through his body. He liked it. A smile twitched across his face. He liked it.

One-shots [Reqs: 5]Dove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora