Probably be doing a LOT of fluff chappies before the tough plot begins... I just want to wait until the mood has set... Okay, okay. Expect cliché from now on.
••••••••••
"I am not your enemy, Kris," The Player explained, still having great amusement to his constant struggles.
Kris almost chuckled at how poor the attempt was to change his mind. And he did laugh, having great determination to fuel his laughter.
"Ha! Then what are you? A friend?" Kris answered fiercely other than the bluntness that was heard from his tone time and time again
The Player just grinned,"Perhaps, perhaps not."
Kris struggled against the darkness that wrapped itself around him, rendering him from attempting anything that could be of use. And The Player found it entertaining when he would surrender, having no avail every try.
These dreams were becoming more vivid in each day that passes, meaning that they were gaining control in a very fast rate. What'll happen if they did? What was The Player's motive?
Those thoughts were shook off by one final slash of the knife.
Kris eyes widened and that amused grin marking a place in his mind.
~~~~~~~
Kris woke up with ragged breaths, not yet used to The Player's idea of "fun".
Still, he rose. The smell of breakfast wafting through the whole house. A sweet butterscotch smell that entraced even the most stubborn of people. That was what he thought, which was true.
He rushed downstairs, still in his green pajamas. The stairs thuding with his steps.
He arrived in the kitchen in great time, that sweet smell lingering through his nostrils. Head moving left and right to find his mother. Though, Toriel was not there.
'Maybe she's in her room?' Kris thought. No, that was not it. Toriel would always be bright and early. But why was breakfast ready?
Then his eyes caught the note that was left next to a butterscotch pie.
Sorry, my child. I have business to attend to. Help yourself to some pie and ready yourself for school.
~Mom
He decided to have breakfast first, looking for a knife to create slices. But when he took sight of it, he hesitated, finding it very disturbing if he did so much as look at it.
To his luck, the pie was already sliced. Kris found great relief in that, knowing he no longer had to reminisce about that bloody scene.
He ate quite a lot, but saved two to pack as his lunch.
He quickly showered and clothed himself and rushed towards the door. But as he looked out the window, he noticed that it was drizzling outside, specks of water dotting his window, including the pitter patter of dropping water.
Kris grabbed an umbrella and headed out in a slow pace, enjoying the sound of the rain. It was so calming to hear, and he appriciated something that wasn't eerie and blunt, especially after what torture he's been through lately.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He sighed contently. Walking in the wet street. Silence if not for the sound of rain.
YOU ARE READING
Control (Krusie)
Fanfiction(C O M P L E T E D S T O R Y) Control... It was something that slipped through Kris' hands after the adventure in Darkworld. The Player was becoming more dominant, more determined. It was itching every bit of his being. He felt as if he was a toy...
