Shattered & Corrupted (An Undertale Sanscest Story)

⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ Chapter 1 ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Nightmare sat on his bed, twiddling his thumbs as he stared up at the ceiling in sorrow. He knew he'd have to face Dream again, but he was just completely at a loss for what to do.

He decided to take a little break before adding more stress to himself, taking deep breaths and listening to the sound of his soul pounding as his previous fear and anxiety died down. He took a look at the area surrounding him.

The upper-walls were lined with half-moons and shades of moonlight purple, cyan and black. On the floor lay a rug with planets and stars, along with stacks upon stacks of books which were carefully organized by the author's last name.

A large moon-light hung from the ceiling, glowing up the room with its gray hue; it sounded exactly like outer space, and Nightmare would know, considering he's been to Outertale multiple times to retrieve Error from his little play dates with Ink. It was a little too bright for his taste, but it would have to do.

His room was luminous and alluring with a scent of a sparkling rich black currant, juicy plum, fluffy marshmallows, fresh peony and a captivating wink of intrigue and mystery.

He sighed, pulling the abnormally soft blanket over his lap and holding his face in his hands, beginning to quietly cry. He can't remember the last time he cried— most likely before he turned corrupted. It's like corruption took away his ability to feel like this.

"I can't believe I let this happen... all I wanted was to be loved like he was... all I wanted was to be like him... and now he's like me, a monster..."

"Knock, Knock!" A playful voice sounded behind the door as two knocks were lashed out to it. Nightmare scoffed, being able to recognize that annoying, cute voice from anywhere.

And by cute, he was merely speaking objectively. He didn't really find this particular skeleton to be attractive in any way or anything like that— or so he told himself.

"I'm not in the mood," he groaned, falling on his back with his hands still covering his face, which in turn covered the area of his face where his real bone was showing. "Go pester someone else, you annoying shit for brain—"

"Boo," the voice continued despite Nightmare's obvious refusal.

Nightmare smiled a little at his persistence, allowing it just this once.

"Yeah, yeah." Nightmare said, already knowing the joke seeing as it's been told over a trillion times. "'Boo who? Why are you crying, it was just a joke!' Blah, blah, blah, you're so funny and original."

He could practically feel Cross pout, but his lack of negative emotion told him that he didn't actually feel hurt as he opened the door, revealing his short-self.

Cross always wore the same fluffy black and white outfit— seriously, did he ever wash that thing? Probably smells nasty.

Just to test his theory, he opened up his nostrils and took a quick whiff of the air, attempting to detect a foul scent, only to find it smells better than usual; like chocolate and soap. That's strange, how does he do it? He himself always smells like tar and rancid apples.

Making sure to continue covering the half of his eye that held his bald spot, Nightmare sat up with a huff. "And what do you want, exactly? Other than annoying me with your dumb and uncreative jokes, that is."

Cross giggled slightly as he gazed shyly at his feet, placing his arms behind his back and kicking the floor a little with lavender tinting his skull.

"I-I wanted to ask if you were free this— hey, why're you covering your face?" Cross asked confusedly, squinting one eye and tilting his head to the side. "There's no need to feel self conscious, I love the way you look—! I-I mean, you're just really attractive is all I'm saying— I mean—"

"Shut up," Nightmare sighed, already aware of Cross' childish crush on him. He wasn't stupid after all. He'd ponder on it later, but right now there's more pressing matters to focus on than stupid love.

He had to think of a reason as to why he— oh wait, no he didn't! He's the king of the castle, he can do whatever he damn pleases!

"Because I feel like it, now get out of my room before I throw you out the window onto my thorn bushes."

"O-oh," Cross stuttered, wobbling out of the room like a penguin with teary eyes. Nightmare felt slight guilt but immediately pushed it to the side— he wasn't obligated to reciprocate his feelings after all.

"But Nightmare," Cross peeked his head back through the doorway with a kind smile. Alright, Nightmare was getting irritated now. "If you ever need someone to talk to... I'm here."

Nightmare's eyes widened in surprise, he was expecting Cross to just throw a pity party back in his room but it seems like Cross is somewhat observant. Somewhat, he was still oblivious as fuck. I mean, he really thought Nightmare was covering his eye because he's insecure? Please.

"...get the hell out."

"OKAY," Cross yelped, shutting the door and running away on his tiny little chicken legs for good this time.

Alright, now that that tiny nuisance is gone, he can finally formulate a plan to restore himself back to his fully corrupted state.

He walked over to his pitch black drawer, already having taken the shimmering midnight key with a crescent moon on the end from under that tree and unlocking the cabinet.

Inside was a single black apple, he'd always kept this on hand just in case he needed to re-corrupt, and it seems the time has finally come.

This was the last apple of its kind, apparently Dream had stolen his back-up back-up apple, so now he was forced to simply use his normal back-up.

He slowly curled his gooey phalanges delicately over the apple, lifting it and placing it gently on top of the cabinet.

Below the apple was a book with all the necessary information on his corrupted form and how to maintain it and such. The book was incredibly thick, seeing as it contains so much information. The cover was half purple, half golden showing two sides of the tree with both black and golden apples on each end.

It was rather beautiful, and that's not something you'd hear him say often.

He needed the book to find out why he was de-corrupting and also how to reverse what Dream had so foolishly done to himself.

Was it hypocritical to call Dream foolish when he had done the same thing himself? Er— anyways.

Alright, looks like it's time to study! ...ugh.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Word Count: 1162 words

Author's Note: Don't worry Crossmare will come eventually! Along with the other ships in the description.