Crossmare/BSP Oneshots

(f)Kross pillow talk pt.2

Love me some oblivious Cross, but, I like to let killer be a lil stupid too fr.

Enjoy!
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The library is quiet so late at night, or, early in the morning, really. The large, ornate windows cast brilliant beams of moonlight down upon the endless shelves. It makes the deep purple carpets look colder. Beyond the bookshelves, Cross can see flickering firelight. He sighs, walking towards the back corner of the library, where a reading nook sits evenly spread around a lit fireplace. Killer lays languidly in one of the beanbags, looking mildly upset as he stares into the fire.

Cross settles next to him, on the rug, just close enough to grab his attention. Killer's eyes widen a little at the corners, and Cross knows he's looking at him. He's familiar with Killer pretending that he's not, but he's gotten pretty good at telling, recently. He's had to get good at a lot of stuff recently. He reaches out a hand to Killer, eyes falling to his shaky soul. He's unwell, Cross knows it, and he offers his hand.

Killer doesn't take it.

"How'd you know I was here?"

Cross reluctantly takes his hand back, setting it on the edge of the bean bag Killer's draped over. "I woke up when you closed the door... Wanted to make sure you were okay."

Killer's soul jumps at the edges, "sorry."

Cross frowns, "Kils, for what?"

"Woke you up..." His voice cracks a little.

"You don't need to apologize for that... I would've just gone back to sleep if I didn't want to be here. I wanna know what's wrong..." Cross reassures.

"It's fine, nothing's wrong, I... It's the way it should be."

"Nothing that makes you upset, is the way it should be... Kils. You've been pulling away so much lately... It feels... Like I've done some wrong. Could you please tell me what?"

Killer blinks a little, and suddenly the tar sticking to his cheeks starts to drip down his jaw at a steady pace. He's crying, and he's trying to pretend that he's not. "You didn't do anything. Everything is fine."

"Killer. It's not fine if it's making you upset."

"I'm not upset."

"You're crying, your soul is everywhere, your hands are shaking, you came to the library in the middle of the night to stare at fire after we slept together, and you keep looking away from me when I'm talking to you, and you don't do that unless you're trying to hide something," Cross says, sitting up a little straighter.

Killer pauses, and then makes a quiet little sound that seems a bit to close to a sob. "When did you get to know me so well?" He laughs, "why are you putting in the effort?" His hands come up to cross his chest, but it really seems more like he's hugging himself than anything. "Why did you come after me? Why are you so stupidly nice to me when all we do is... This isn't... You're soft. And an idiot."

"Is this about what you said last week..."

Killer pauses, frowning at him, "I said a lot of things last week."

"What you said to me in Arabic, Kils. You've been acting jacked up ever since..."

He makes a face at that, turning away, "it wasn't that important."

"You told me you loved me, and you think that's not important?"

Killer freezes, turning back to him rigidly like he expects something different than what's there. Anger, or hatred, disgust maybe. What he sees is something carefully neutral, decidedly calm. Just like a knight should be. "How'd you know that," he grits out.