One-shots [Reqs: 5]

First, Last - Wake Up

part five :]

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The alcohol burned going down, even if it was absorbed near instantly. If there was ever a downside to being made of magic, it would be that, where it would take ages for a drink to affect a human, Monsters like Skeletons are affected far sooner. The absorption of those things makes the process quick and simple.

Skeleton monsters like Cross are affected near instantly. A relief, since he was somewhat afraid to know what would happen while he waited for the drinks to kick in, but at the same time, it was a rollercoaster.

Most monsters who don't have fleshy bodies, creatures such as those are raised with the teachings of how to be careful. Ingesting certain things needs to be done slowly, or you'll overdo it. An important lesson, really, but, chugging his fourth bottle in the past 15 minutes, Cross couldn't find a single fuck to give.

Why would he? He was an adult now, he could do whatever he pleased, and no one could tell him otherwise.

The cool glass of the bottle chilled his fingers, the clunk of wood against glass a pleasant sound. Cross let out a heavy breath, a groan bleeding into it towards the end. The room spun and the table looked fuzzy.

"Cross."

His head tipped back, metaphorically boneless. Dust's all-too-bright eyes gazed at him from below. Below? Wasn't Dust taller than Cross? He stared at him.

"What are you doing."

What a stupid question. What did it look like? Cross's teeth scraped each other, his voice no more than a hiss. "The fuck doessit look like? 'm drinking, dumbass." Dust's face moved. Weird.

Cross grabbed his bottle, taking a long sip, heedless of his visitor. The effect washed over him an instant later, a wave of pins and needles rolling up his body. He felt cold, but warm. His chest constricted and he gasped for air he didn't need as he put the bottle down with too much force. "Gimme 'nother."

Dust didn't move. His blood-red scarf, a smear of color that seemed to vibrate, didn't move either.

"No." Cross's eyes opened a little wider. "...what." Dust had crossed his arms, his face different again. Angrier. "I said no. Do you know what boss would say about this?"

"'mmnot a little kid."

"You're right, you're a grown-ass adult, and you're throwing a tantrum like a fucking toddler-"

"Ffuck off! 'm not here t'be lectured-"

He really doesn't recall what happened. It felt like blinking. Suddenly, Dust was gone, and there were more bottles, and his cheek stung. Cross touched the hurt with trembling fingers, his hand coming away wet with purple. He was bleeding? Why was he bleeding? His drinking slowed, the alcohol doing nothing to soothe the bubbling hurt.

Dust left. Cross didn't blame him for leaving.

Cool wood pressed against his cheek, jolting him out of his stupor only slightly. The tiny moment of clarity faded and he slumped further onto the table, exhausted. The lure of sleep beckoned, pulling at his eyes, at his very soul. He didn't bother trying to fight it. Maybe he won't ever wake up. Maybe he will.

 ̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷c̷k̷e̷d̷ ̷o̷n̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷'̷s̷ ̷s̷k̷u̷l̷l̷,̷ ̷g̷r̷i̷n̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷f̷r̷o̷m̷ ̷e̷a̷r̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷m̷e̷t̷a̷p̷h̷o̷r̷i̷c̷a̷l̷ ̷e̷a̷r̷.̷ ̷"̷K̷n̷o̷c̷k̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷c̷k̷.̷"̷ ̷T̷h̷e̷ ̷k̷i̷t̷c̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷t̷a̷b̷l̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷w̷a̷r̷m̷ ̷u̷n̷d̷e̷r̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷f̷a̷c̷e̷,̷ ̷h̷e̷a̷t̷e̷d̷ ̷b̷y̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷h̷o̷u̷r̷s̷ ̷s̷p̷e̷n̷t̷ ̷s̷l̷e̷e̷p̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷i̷t̷.̷
̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷i̷n̷h̷a̷l̷e̷d̷ ̷s̷l̷o̷w̷l̷y̷,̷ ̷s̷h̷u̷t̷t̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷e̷y̷e̷s̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷k̷i̷t̷c̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷s̷.̷ ̷"̷m̷m̷w̷h̷a̷t̷.̷.̷?̷"̷
̷"̷Y̷e̷r̷ ̷s̷u̷p̷p̷o̷s̷e̷d̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷a̷y̷ ̷'̷w̷h̷o̷'̷s̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷r̷e̷'̷.̷ ̷T̷r̷y̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷.̷"̷ ̷B̷o̷n̷y̷ ̷k̷n̷u̷c̷k̷l̷e̷s̷ ̷r̷a̷p̷p̷e̷d̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷s̷k̷u̷l̷l̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷.̷ ̷"̷K̷n̷o̷c̷k̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷c̷k̷,̷"̷ ̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷s̷a̷n̷g̷.̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷h̷u̷f̷f̷e̷d̷,̷ ̷f̷a̷i̷n̷t̷l̷y̷ ̷a̷m̷u̷s̷e̷d̷.̷ ̷"̷W̷h̷o̷'̷s̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷r̷e̷?̷"̷
̷"̷S̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷y̷.̷"̷
̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷'̷s̷ ̷e̷y̷e̷s̷ ̷c̷r̷a̷c̷k̷e̷d̷ ̷o̷p̷e̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷e̷s̷t̷ ̷b̷i̷t̷.̷ ̷"̷S̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷y̷ ̷w̷h̷o̷?̷"̷
̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷'̷s̷ ̷g̷r̷i̷n̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷b̷r̷i̷g̷h̷t̷e̷r̷ ̷t̷h̷a̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷k̷i̷t̷c̷h̷e̷n̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷s̷.̷ ̷"̷D̷o̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷w̷ ̷'̷e̷m̷!̷"̷
̷T̷h̷e̷ ̷j̷o̷k̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷s̷ ̷a̷w̷f̷u̷l̷.̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷l̷a̷u̷g̷h̷e̷d̷,̷ ̷t̷u̷r̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷h̷i̷s̷ ̷h̷e̷a̷d̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷m̷u̷f̷f̷l̷e̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷o̷u̷n̷d̷ ̷a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷s̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷t̷a̷b̷l̷e̷.̷ ̷"̷S̷h̷u̷t̷ ̷u̷p̷,̷ ̷i̷d̷i̷o̷t̷.̷"̷ ̷K̷i̷l̷l̷e̷r̷ ̷c̷a̷c̷k̷l̷e̷d̷,̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷l̷y̷ ̷p̷u̷s̷h̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷a̷t̷ ̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷'̷s̷ ̷s̷h̷o̷u̷l̷d̷e̷r̷s̷.̷ ̷"̷C̷'̷m̷o̷n̷,̷ ̷s̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷y̷.̷ ̷H̷o̷r̷r̷o̷r̷ ̷m̷a̷d̷e̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷ ̷s̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷c̷h̷o̷c̷o̷l̷a̷t̷e̷ ̷p̷a̷n̷c̷a̷k̷e̷s̷,̷ ̷a̷n̷d̷ ̷B̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷w̷a̷n̷t̷s̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷y̷a̷.̷"̷
̷"̷B̷o̷s̷s̷ ̷w̷a̷n̷t̷s̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷y̷a̷.̷"̷
̷"̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷.̷"̷
̷"̷C̷r̷o̷s̷s̷.̷"̷