where our memories lie

Not Yourself

Dream's alarm woke him up, sunlight just barely starting to filter in through his curtains with the morning birds chirping from the tree outside. He rubbed at his eye sockets and reached his other hand over to swipe a finger across the screen, taking a couple tries before the tune silenced. Rolling over onto his back, he stuck an arm out and felt around the other side of the bed, pausing when discovering that Cross' side was fully made and- he tugged lightly on the sheets- He tucked those in, too??

Cross never made his side of the bed without a reminder. It wasn't that he didn't care, it was purely because he would get caught up in another task and forget. Dream sat up and swung his legs over the side, getting up out of bed and turning around to tidy up his own half of their shared mattress. He kicked around briefly under the edge of the bed, locating his slippers and dragging them out. They were a soft yellow color with the features of a duck neatly embroidered onto the toes- a Christmas gift from last year, and he loved them to bits. 

Slipping on the fuzzy shoes, he quietly made his way out of the bedroom, listening for Cross. His husband had work today, and usually went out to help his best friend with whatever current project he had in the mornings every Thursday. So, with all things considered and assuming he was correct on what day it was (Thursday, according to his phone)- why did he hear chopping from the living area of all places?

Dream shuffled on over to the corner and peeked around, leaning further when spotting Cross' form sitting on their beaten old couch (inherited from his mother, of course) and humming a quiet tune. It wasn't one he recognized, but the chopping sound from the knife seemed to be going along with the beat. He used the softness of his slippers to his advantage to get closer to the back of the couch. The baker didn't get very close when the chopping came to an abrupt halt with his husband's humming. Dream froze in place, swallowing heavily.

"Cross?-"

Dream had to duck to avoid the knife thrown at him, shaky eye lights sliding to look at the figure now standing in front of the couch rather than sitting, arm still extended from the throw. His gaze instantly went to the gold heart and chain hanging from around his neck.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck, fuckfuck fuckfuckfuck-

Dream lunged across and over the couch, throwing himself at Cross and knocking him onto their (surprisingly sturdy) coffee table. A glass that was left on the edge tumbled off onto the floor and Dream felt C- whoever the hell was possessing his husband- grab his neck with both hands. His beloved's right eye light was snuffed out at the moment, the left burning an angry red with a fresh cut underneath it that was still seeping sticky, also red magic.

A grin stretched across Cross' face. Wide. Sharp. Not cross. 

"I don't have to breathe, idiot!"

Dream tore their hands from his neck and used his legs to maneuver them both around, using one of his hands to pin Cross' arms behind his back while the other worked on the necklace clasp. The panic caused his fingers to slip a few times in addition to the struggles of the man underneath him, but eventually the chain fell to the carpet below them. Cross stilled, the sound of heavy breathing from the two skeletons the only sound in the room.

Dream hesitantly loosened his hold on his husband's wrists, sitting up and grabbing the necklace, tossing it across the room.

"Cross? Can you hear me?"

He slowly got off of him, kneeling down next to him instead. Cross pushed himself up and sat up, the sharp grin curved into a confused frown. A spike of anxiety went through Dream when he noticed the red eye remaining- however this time, it was joined by the familiar white in the other socket. The two sat in silence staring at each other, Dream's hands held up in a hesitant position. He wanted to embrace his husband, tell him he was okay..

Stars , Dream didn't even know if he was actually looking at his lover right now. The white eye light could mean nothing, he could still be in danger-

Arms wrapped tightly around him, and he panicked, shoving and pushing until Cross started speaking softly to him. Simple phrases, promises of safety, gentle flattery. All false, in Dream's mind, but it was enough to calm him down into soft cries as he buried his face into his husband's neck. Cross' hand started moving in large circles over his back, his words fading into quiet as they sat huddled in a ball on their living room carpet.

"I'm so sorry, Cross, I'm so, so sorry-" The baker choked out what he could between his sobs, clutching the back of the other skeleton's shirt. Cross gently shushed him, leaning back and taking a slow, deep breath. 

"Dream. I won't ask any questions, I'm not going to blame you either, but what the hell was in that necklace." His gaze was firm, but Dream could tell by the shaking of his eye lights that he was scared. The baker took a moment to find the words.

"It was.. a ghost…?" Dream tried with a small wince, lowering his arms to his side. Another long, agonizing pause stretched out before Cross got up from the floor and started moving around the house, grabbing his shoes and coat.

"Wait, what are you-"

Dream was promptly cut off with a jacket to the face. He stood up and started putting it on, confused.

Cross snatched the keys off the hallway table and opened their apartment door.

"We're going back to that damned house. Together."

…