Archive of Our Own ^beta

Susie feels the moment the sky begins to cry.

Because it's raining again, soaking into her clothes and sticking to her scales. It's one more thing to top off the day, just one more reason to feel a bit apathetic to it all.

She's allowed to be in a bad mood. Allowed to feel like the world should match the storm of emotions brewing inside of her. And for once, that emotion isn't anger; there's nobody worth bearing her teeth at.

It feels heavier, cut deep like glass to flesh.

It feels closer to grief.

Kris gets to their feet, rubbing their mud-soaked hands on the knees of their pants. They look beyond ruined, but they're moving, and their presence is as familiar as it is comforting. Susie looks at them like they're a beacon, because they might as well be. Three measly days that felt more like a lifetime was all it took to cement a human-shaped hole into Susie’s life.

Her best friend.

‘Cause Kris might be the only one in this town who gets her.

"Hell yeah, man."

Anything beats having to go back to her apartment. Susie can admit she wasn't looking forward to sitting on the soggy bench in the graveyard until she dozed off, all alone with her thoughts.

…It had only been for a few moments, walking down their driveway, but Kris not being beside her had felt wrong. As though now that she has a taste of friendship and understanding, she couldn't let it go.

Still, she feels oddly numb as she watches Kris stagger out of their slouch, realizing belatedly she should've offered a hand. It's as though she's filling up with rainwater, a swirling mess of emotions drowning everything but her too fast, half-formed thoughts. But she's too tired to stop the waves from crashing into her, so Susie is left drowning.

The rainwater pelting her face is cold.

Susie would give almost anything to be cuddled up on Kris's couch again like yesterday. The smell of fruit in the air, flour stuck under her nails. Of tucking herself in the corner of their couch, blankets bunched around her waist, with that sick dinosaur show roaring in front of them.

Existing with Kris. It was nice, but she should've known it wouldn't have lasted, so she wouldn't have felt the way she did on Kris's doorstep. Besides, Tenna has a new home, and now Toriel...

Distantly, the same music repeats itself on a loop. Pitched voices talk in sickly smooth tones to one another. A cheer. Glasses clinking. Flailing shadows seen through fogged windows, a warm yellow light illuminating the couple’s movements. It should be welcoming, but it's not.

Susie feels fire on the tip of her tongue, wrapped in a bitterness that she wishes wasn't there. "We can hear the music from all the way out here?"

Kris glances back at the house, hair frizzed and clothes wrinkled. They're holding a scrunched-up ball of something close to their chest, their forearm having shielded it from the mud during the escape from their room. 

"Guess so," their voice cracks.

Susie doesn't understand why, out of everything that's happened, Toriel feels the most like betrayal. It's not like adults drinking is some big deal, and it's not like she knew what she and Kris had gone through to 'save' her. But all the little things had merged into something so entirely overwhelming that Susie found she wanted Toriel to be able to tell that something was wrong.

Wrong with the world and its fucked up prophecy. Wrong for making Susie care about someone she'd never see again. Wrong with everything.

The Darkworlds had always been a secret to everybody but her and Kris, but it had never felt so much like a responsibility.

When she rocks back on her heels, the world tilts for a moment. Vertigo rumbling in her throat as though she’s falling, but it’s so unlike the excited anticipation Susie tends to feel when going to Castle Town, it snaps her back into the moment. 

The smell of alcohol tinges the back of her nose, bringing up memories she'd rather not be forced to think about. 

She takes a gulp of fresh, watery air.

Susie couldn't have stayed.

And, seeing Kris standing in front of her, she guessed that neither could they.

Their lips thin into a line, and maybe it's the rain or the worn look on their face, but they look softer. Tired shoulders slumped, their typical sweater stained brown. Susie realizes this is probably the first time since hanging out at Noelle's that they don't have that hard look in their eyes.

"I brought you a jacket," Kris offers it out with their hand. Susie can vaguely make out some green camouflage pattern decorating the fabric. She mumbles a thanks as she pulls it on. It's tight around the arms, but it mostly fits.

The cuffs are worn and fuzzier than the rest of the sleeve. She wonders if there are stories in the threads that, if she looked close enough, she could live vicariously through. Happy or sad, she'd take anything but this cold emptiness sitting in her gut.

Kris stares at her. 

Susie stares at Kris. Or rather, at Kris’s worn-out sweater. "Didn't you grab one for yourself?"

Kris doesn't answer, but they do awkwardly look to the side.

Some imitation of a laugh unexpectedly bubbles out of her throat. It feels like light. 

"Dumbass," she grumbles.

As lights do, they fade. Her bones feel hollow.

The music continues blaring.

"Ugh. Let's just get out of here already."

The walk feels longer than usual, even without Kris going off on however many side quests they felt like doing during the day. Now, they walk purposely south. No stops at their father's shop, no inspecting the grill that smells like cat food, no knocking on every door on the street. 

Susie follows at a leisurely pace, not feeling like there was much of a rush anyway. It's nice not having to look over her shoulder for kids who might get too cocky and laugh at her, seeing as it’s the dead of night, but the silence also leaves her with her thoughts.

She... doesn't really want to be left alone with them, with how they seem to prod at her. So she resigns to thinking intently about absolutely nothing at all.

The rain patters out of tune with their footsteps. It almost sounds like a melody, but the moment she tries to grasp it, the sound melts and washes away into nothing. Her throat swells, and she tells herself the blur in her eyes is just the rain.

Tonight is all cool colours that make the horizon bleed into everything else; sky into brick, brick into wet pavement. A bad watercolour painting, unless its painter was going for something abstract and gloomy. In which case, Susie would give them a gold star.

The rich blue darkness of the sky hesitantly peaks through black clouds, the moon and its silver rays shining gently. She can't see them, but maybe stars are twinkling behind the clouds. Like that old philosophical question with the box and the cat: if the box is sealed and has a mechanism with an even chance of either killing the cat or letting it live, until you open the box, what is the cat? Is it dead, alive, or in some limbo state?

Susie would like to think that even if she can’t see them, the stars are shining.

If she fools herself further, she can twist the sight of the dusty old cafe in the distance into something more reminiscent of a cathedral. They're both types of old buildings, so they've got to have some similarities.

She thinks of wooden benches and warm lights. Of furniture styles years out of date, the nostalgia one would get from visiting an older relative. The smell of hot chocolate and dust that, at the time, felt like a living memory.

Her thoughts keep slipping away from her.

Fuck.

"...I miss the old man."

Saying it out loud doesn't make her feel better. Her voice cracks as her nails dig crevices into her palms. She doesn't know if Kris is looking at her, or what they could possibly be thinking when she can’t even tell what herself is thinking. No combination of words comes close to describing the ache in her chest.

Kris's footsteps thump and squeak evenly with her own. Their silence is enough of a response.

"I didn't thank him." Her voice rings out after a moment. "I knew I wanted to, but after we beat the Titan, he just wasn't there."

She wants to stop walking and melt into the sidewalk. She can't stop walking because she'd probably never move again.

Before closing that last dark fountain, she'd been distracted by the prophecy. Talking to Ralsei. Trying to blink away the light that had burst from Kris's heart as they fell. Of thinking about the look in Kris's eyes because she'd never seen anything quite like it from them before. Of the pride she felt for the four of them, for beating the Titan. For getting rid of something that Ralsei feared so much.

"...Can I say something?" Kris asks softly. Not quite a whisper, but also not enough to break the town's bubble of white noise.

Many different possible responses pop into her head. You just did, or just that one word?, or even, yeah dude just don't call me a slur. But she just doesn't have the energy to say anything but-

"Yeah."

Even the one syllable feels heavy on her tongue, and it takes a full breath of air to push the agreement out. Despite the go-ahead, Kris takes a moment before speaking. Susie stares at her shoes, grass-stained with fraying laces. She thinks they make a squishing noise with each of her steps. She doesn't bother trying to listen for it.

"He didn't seem the type for sappy goodbyes."

Susie shuts her eyes. Rain rolls down her cheeks.

He hadn't. Nothing about the old man was straightforward. He acted as senile as he was clever… but hell. Susie had never really believed it until today, but maybe age did make some people wiser. The old man had his life lessons, and one way or another Susie had understood whatever he was trying to get at in the end.

"But I think... he'd been teaching you about hope. And in that battle, you used everything he taught you and came out winning."

She swallows around her tongue, breath stuttering, eyes still clenched shut and burning. But she keeps walking, because Kris would grab her if she were about to fall into a pothole or something.

"Yeah," she repeats.

The moment the Titan began regenerating, it had felt hopeless. Hopelessness like Susie had never felt before had seeped into her bones as her hands shook, until she could no longer rely on the one thing she was ever good at doing.

Fighting. 

It had taken so much effort to take the Titan's defences down those first few times, but it had healed itself effortlessly. Susie knows that she, Kris, and Ralsei would've had to stand there fighting until they lost. There was no way to get the dark fountain with that thing in their way, and they couldn't have beaten it head-on.

There would have been nothing else to do but stand defiantly until whatever the end was.

It would have been the only thing to do, anyway. To try and do. If the Titans really were going to destroy the world if they were let free. 

Yet, the moment she heard Gerson's cackle, it felt like they had been saved. Like everything would be okay if the old man were there to help them.

And it was.

Because suddenly the Titan wasn't undefeatable.

"You had fun, performing Dual Buster." It's not a question. Maybe she should be embarrassed... but hell. No point in lying, Kris knows her too well.

"Shit, man." She blurts out a broken laugh. "It was great. I felt like I could do anything. Like we could do anything." 

Kris stops walking suddenly, their shoes scuffing on the sidewalk pavement, so she does too. They turn to her, eyes knowing and for once visible from between wet strands of their shaggy hair.

"Then remember that feeling."

Susie can't do anything but stare. The feeling she felt when Gerson arrived... it was something like invincibility. 

Hope. Chasing away the crushing dread.

Kris continues, "Because that was probably the type of goodbye someone like him would want."

The memory of magic in her palms, of breaths in tune with one another. Knowing that her friends were counting on her- and knowing she could live up to their expectations. Susie remembers the grin on her face, remembers looking back at the old man with his face a mirror expression to her own.

She hadn't been scared, because she'd done more than hope.

Susie had known they'd beat the Titan. 

And so, they did.

In the end, it had almost been fun.

Waiting for Kris to call out orders, the world had once again felt solid under her feet, the grip on her Axe of Justice more assured than ever. It was as though her very soul was glowing with determination, the edges of her vision clearing away the vignette of darkness that had shrouded her thoughts.

Susie swears again, eyes shut tight as she wipes the water off her face. The hurt of missing the old man doesn't lessen, and the lump in her throat doesn't disappear... but she can feel the sides of her mouth tugging into a grim smile. Her shoulders feel less tight.

"It was a pretty badass goodbye when you put it like that."

She manages to grin at Kris, knowing it shows her teeth and trying to keep it kind regardless. She hooks her arm around theirs, tugging them back into walking as they stumble into step beside her.

I'll never forget it, she promises herself, so that there will come a day she won't have to mourn such a badass goodbye. One final memory of Gerson, not tainted by the dark fountain created by her own two hands and Kris's knife.

Going out in style. 

Susie likes the idea of that.

"Has anyone ever said that you're like, pretty good at this whole comforting thing?"

Her legs finally feel like her own again. Her arms once again attached to her body, able to feel Kris's warmth pressing through their many layers of soaked clothes.

Kris snorts, "No."

The next breath of air feels fresher as Susie tilts her chin up, tears rimming her eyes but no longer falling. She thinks of every sappy book she's never cared about and feels every droplet of rain on her scales, and pretends that they're washing every doubt in her away in favour of new beginnings. The air smells like pine and water, moonlight shining in the droplets gathering into puddles. A small stream runs down the curb of the sidewalk and into the drain near the upcoming intersection.

She stretches her one arm back, as if to assure herself the world is no longer constricting around her.

"You know, I don't think I've heard you talk this much at once before." 

The rain continues to drizzle.

"Hm," Kris responds. 

Kris stares intently at the hospital's door, nestled safely underneath the overpass at the front of the building and safe from the incessant drizzle of rain. A closed sign hangs on the other side of its glass window.

"So," Susie shrugs with both of her arms free now that Kris has wandered towards the door. "We gonna try a window or...?”

Kris looks back at her, and with a sense of finality, twists the handle. The door swings wide open as the movement meets no resistance from a lock.

"Uhh," she remarks. "Thought that you said we'd have to break in?"

Kris steps inside, wiping their shoes on the doormat. Susie mindlessly follows to do the same, even if she realizes the effort is pointless. The both of them are filthy, water dripping from their hair, Kris's with a nice side of front-lawn mud.

"Technically, we did," Kris points at the sign, blinking. Except it's double-sided; from the outside it reads closed, but now that they are inside it says open.

"It's not breaking in if it's open, dumbass."

"Clopen, then?" Kris references.

"Sure."

Taking a moment to look around, the sterile white of the waiting room is almost eerie in the dead of night. The lights are out, but there's still enough shining in from the building's porchlight to see. Susie scans the wall for a light switch, cheering triumphantly as she finds it and smacks it on.

It blinds her for a few moments, and she has to blink the stars out of her eyes. A few feet away, she can hear Kris groan in pain.

Somehow, it still feels quieter than usual. And she's learned recently that hospitals, even during the day, are awfully silent places. 

Or maybe that's another Hometown thing. There only ever seems to be two people here during the day. And one of them is an employee.

"So, you didn't actually need me here," Susie remarks at the distinct lack of having to actually do anything beyond twist a door handle to get into the hospital. Surprisingly, she doesn't feel tricked. Just a vague sense of curiosity.

A few heartbeats pass, and it feels out of place. Enough to make Susie look to the side.

"No," Kris says. It sounds almost hesitant, though Susie can't figure out why.

They continue, "...But I wanted you here. Would've been no point coming alone."

“Huh,” Susie hums, still looking around absentmindedly. “I get that. I would wanna hang out with me all the time, too.”

She takes off her jacket, throwing it to the floor beside her and letting it crumple into a wet lump. She wanders further into the room, inspecting the wooden sliding bead game. She pokes at the purple bead and slides it to the highest part of the board. She plucks a green bead out from beside a yellow and red bead and drags it to rest beside purple.

Somewhere behind her, Kris shuts the hospital's front door. The sound of rain dulls.

Susie stands up from her crouch to continue exploring.

She pokes around the door that leads to the patient's rooms, which is actually locked properly. It looks to be shut with a keypad, too, so there's nothing to cheat there.

The desk is equally bare, besides a clipboard of sign-in sheets. There are a few entries and times listing Noelle's name as a visitor, and Noelle's Dad as a patient. Also, a few unintelligible scribbles that Susie can vaguely recognize as the word pizza.

Kris's name and her own are listed, too. Written in the same cursive handwriting, right beside the same time. On further thought, it was probably done by that front desk worker. She hadn't realized they were meant to sign in.

Oops.

She doesn't bother checking out the bookshelf behind the desk, seeing as trying to make sense of any of the words on their spines makes her want to groan.

“Kris, there's- oh.”

The human in question had already moved to sit in front of the hospital's obligatory piano. They tilt their head in her direction in a silent acknowledgement.

Susie doesn't realize she's moved across the room to stand next to them until she stops behind the bench Kris is sitting on.

“Is that why you wanted to come here?”

Better than going back to the church, at least. Susie wasn't ready to go back there so soon while her wounds still felt so raw, even if said wounds weren't of the flesh.

Kris just nods, sitting on the bench and leaning into the piano like they belong there. And they do. Belong there, that is. Susie can't think of anything else that makes them look so relaxed.

Kris lifts their thin hands above the keys, releasing a soft breath before gently bringing their hands down and gliding them across the tiles in purposeful dips. Their waist sways with the movement in their arms, like the branches of a tree in the wind. Kris's performance is all-encompassing, coating their air in a reverberating melody.

It's poetic, really.

The sound is gentle, gracefully bleeding from one note into the next. Their left hand controlling, Susie counts, four notes at a time that seem to drag on forever. Their right hand flicks fewer notes for a shorter amount of time, and they ring out at a higher volume. Their right leg jumps with the pedal Susie has never actually learned the purpose of.

Then the tune changes slightly, Kris tapping out a beat on one key in repetition as their left hand goes down from keeping track of four notes at once to only one or two.

It's impressive, Kris's ability to be aware of so many things at once, like which notes to press and for how long. It almost makes her want to swallow down a lump of anxiety.

Instead, she watches them play in awe as the noise caresses her ears.

No, the music. She can't call what Kris is doing just making noise.

"Huh," Susie blinks, jaw going slack. It almost feels rude to speak. "Well damn."

Kris doesn't pause, but Susie can see their shoulders bunch in what's probably a snort. "You've seen me play once before."

"Twice." Susie corrects without thinking. Still staring at their hypnotic movements, listening to the music that has drowned out every other sound in the world.

It's like she's entranced. Staring with her ears, not even thinking about ignoring the sounds or getting distracted. There should be a word for it.

Their playing pauses mid note, and the deep noise of the piano rings for a handful of heartbeats before dissipating into the air like it never existed in the first place. 

Kris turns, and the gaze that lands on her is questioning.

She elaborates. "Once in the Darkworld, the other at Noelle's place. Though I guess I didn't actually see you then..." 

Absent-mindedly, she clenches her fists, feeling awkward. Kris had to have known she'd heard, right? Why does she feel like she'd said something she wasn't supposed to?

"I didn't realize you'd heard."

Her shoulders slump. Kris doesn't seem mad, just curious.

To make up for her gushy feelings, she overcompensates by grabbing Kris by the shoulders and messing up their hair. She hopes the sweet smell of apple shampoo lingers on her palms so she can try licking it off. Downing the shampoo bottle like juice had been too concentrated, even for her tastes.

"Dude. Noelle's house is giant. Could probably hear the echoes of your playing from across town." Kris tilts their head out from under her palm. Susie grimaces at the water residue on her hands and wipes it off on the shoulder of Kris’s sweater.

Kris doesn't respond, but Susie is used to that. In fact, they've been talking a lot tonight. She's more used to them being a silently determined menace than a not-so-silent menace, but the change is okay.

Nice, even. That Susie can almost tell what they're thinking. She watches as Kris lines their hands back up to the center of the piano to begin playing again.

She leans back on her heels, listening to the drifting melody. It sounds familiar- maybe Kris had played it before?- but Susie can't recall. Her one arm is still draped loosely around Kris's shoulders, and the warmth is comforting. It'd be too out of place to change position now, not that she even wants to.

"... I learned to play piano at Noelle's," they mumble.

Susie blinks. "Really?"

"Mainly. I had lessons at the Church, but I practiced the most at her house. Mom never got one for us- there was nowhere to put it, and it was too expensive."

"Yeah, that's fair." Susie snorts. "I asked if Noelle played, and she said no. And there's no way her ass of a mom-"

Should she have just called Noelle's mom an ass? She was, but like. Kris grew up with her, so what if they- 

"No way in hell Carol would play," Kris continues for her. 

Susie nods along, watching as Kris continues to tap out some random notes that no longer sound like a song. Just a few beats that vaguely seem to go together. 

"Uh-huh. You need like, delicate hands for this shit. She's way too prissy."

Kris pouts.

“Delicate as in, like, flexible! She looked too uptight for- don’t look at me like that!”

“Fine,” Kris dramatically rolls their eyes. “There are worse compliments, I guess.” Yet they continue to mumble about them not having dainty, delicate hands under their breath. 

“I never said anything about being dainty!”

The thought hits her again, suddenly. Kris likes playing piano, and Susie doesn’t have to know any music jargon to know that they’re good at it. She has working ears, thank you very much, and can tell bad noise from tolerable. And in this case, it’s past tolerable- dare she say it’s beautiful. 

"Why didn't you play when we were here before? I mean, you poked at it but..." Susie trails off.

Kris doesn't answer for a moment, instead taking a moment to stare at somewhere between the piano tiles and their hands. "I just haven't been myself lately, I guess."

"Noelle said the same thing, you know." She blurts, jumping slightly when Kris whips their head around. "That uh. You haven't been yourself."

Susie hadn’t really noticed anything too off about them besides the usual stuff. But again, it’s a stark reminder that Susie had not cared one bit about Kris Dreemurr until a few days ago, even if those few days had felt like a lifetime.

Kris stares into her eyes, and she finds it difficult to look away. They’re such a deep red, containing swirling depths of intensity that are so often hidden behind their bangs, it catches her off guard. 

"Did she," they mumble.

They glare at some specific tile on the floor for a few moments too long. Susie frowns, opening her mouth to reassure them that hey, I just spent who knows how long on the walk here talking about my own issues. So you know, feel free to talk about yours. If you want. Or whatever. I'm no good at comforting, but I'll listen-

But she hesitates, and the moment passes when Kris suddenly grins wickedly, turning around in their seat. “I said I'd play if you played.”

She bristles, “What the-”

Ah, right. Between Darkworlds, Kris did say that, but she didn't think they meant it so literally. Or that they meant it at all. Like they had said it just to make light of Susie’s awkward confessions about her bad experiences with pianos, but could later pass it off as them just trying to be comforting in the moment.

Susie was really starting to feel bad about always assuming the worst, but old habits die gruesome deaths. Or however the saying goes.

Kris smiles, patting the empty side of the bench as they scoot closer to the edge of the right side.

"Sit," they pat the empty space on the left side of the bench more insistently when she doesn't move. It looks like there is barely enough room for the two of them, with the seat probably only meant to hold one person at a time. 

"You sure? It doesn't look like there's much room."

"Don't care," Kris pats the empty space harder. "Sitttttt."

Susie rolls her eyes. "Woof woof, captain."

“Don't steal my lines,” Kris barks, grinning.

She slides into the seat, the wood creaking under their combined weight. Her knees hit the underside of the piano as she tries to get comfortable; the side of Kris's thigh presses firmly into hers.

The piano… is. Well. It sure looks like a piano. The amount of keys is still overwhelming, though, especially now that she's the one supposed to be playing it. How the hell is she supposed to memorize what all of them do at once?

Then again, Kris manages. Maybe she can, too.

Still, the longer she sits, the more aware she is of her hands in her lap. Cold and damp, right down to the bone. She lifts both of her hands to hover over the keys like she'd seen Kris do, though slightly off-center.

Susie looks away from her hands.

That day in the plaza, so many years ago. Thinking for some stupid reason she'd be able to play the piano flawlessly on her first attempt, that maybe she could be good at something for once.

The weight of shadows on her back. Bruised knuckles. Heavy breathing. Notes of every tone ringing in her ears as she kicked punched lashed- 

Kris leans over her, placing their small human hands on top of hers and lining up their respective fingers to her own.

Their shoulder digs into her arm. Susie finds that she doesn't care.

“Relax,” Kris says. “Your hands are too tense.”

Something in her wants to bolt. The memory of being kicked out of that stupid plaza in front of everyone, the rejection. The embarrassment and the anger that followed. It wasn't the piano's fault, but it's not like she could have beaten up some mall security without landing herself in jail.

Kris would have been allowed to play that stupid piano. 

They deserved to, with the way they managed to weave movements into sounds into pieces of art.

But Susie…

She pulls her hands away, clutching them to her stomach.

“Uh. Sorry, man, I just- I don't think I'm cut out for this kinda stuff after all.” Susie laughs, and the sound feels hollow in her ears. 

The silence is deafening, enough so that she can hear the muffled rain outside. Her breaths are oddly loud and fast, like she'd just run across town. Yeah, this was an awful idea. Well, everything was fine until Susie thought she'd be able to pull through sitting on a piano bench again. She'd make a fool of herself. Again. Next to Kris.

Kris's playing was nice. Both of them could go back to that. She's just about to suggest it when warm hands press tightly around her own.

Susie is still staring at the piano keys, the black and white of them blurring in her dry eyes. She hadn't even realized she never looked away.

Kris tugs her hands between both of their bodies, but letting her arms leave her sides is an uncomfortable battle. Slowly, Kris pries her hands apart, letting each digit spread in the air. 

They rest their fingers between hers.

“I know you can play.” Kris squeezes their hands once, like reassurance.

Air feels difficult to come by.

“How do you know that?” Susie responds. Waiting for their answer feels like jumping without knowing where she's going to land.

“Easy,” Kris responds like she'd just asked about the colour of the sky. “You have hands.”

They squeeze their fingers again like they're emphasizing some grand point. Something about it is so stupid that she cackles.

“That's the worst reassurance I've ever heard.” She gasps for breath, doubling over and leaning her forehead against the piano keys with a thunk. 

She can hear the pout in Kris's voice. “You laughed, though.”

“True,” she squeezes their hands back between snorts. “Going two for two, huh?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Kris smirk. “You could say that.”

Slowly, Susie sits back up. Disconnects her hands. Lets them hover over the keys. Like before, Kris moves and rests their own hands atop hers.

Susie stares at their hands, frowning.

“How do I…” 

Kris pushes her hands down until her ten digits move the tiles, and a soft noise thrums from deep inside the instrument.

“You don't have to be good,” Kris says. “I find music is better when you use it as an extension of yourself.”

Ten keys stay pressed down into the piano as Susie continues staring.

“But I want it to be good.”

Instruments are meant to be played in front of people, are they not? At churches, in plazas… even in a hospital. They're meant for more than just the performer to enjoy.

Kris absentmindedly runs a finger up her own, and she shivers. 

“Who cares?” Kris sighs. Then they flinch so slightly that Susie only notices because both of them are pressed up against each other. 

“I mean,” they stutter. “If you want to play well for others, that makes sense. And it's fine to want that. But if you're only playing because others want you to, you won't feel as good. As fulfilled.”

Susie blinks.

“Like. Uh,” Kris shifts in the seat, the wood creaking. “When I play the piano for myself, that's what feels the most worth it.”

Susie tries to follow along, “Like at Noelle's… and in the Darkworld?”

She winces as one of Kris's nails catches on one of her scales.

“Sorry!” They squeak. “But, um. Yes.”

Susie thrives on showing off the things she's good at. Thrives on the feeling of being respected, even if the only thing she is good at is fighting. The concept of playing the piano just because she wants to is a bit baffling, but she can see where Kris is coming from.

She thinks about the piano in the plaza.

Back then, deep down, she knew she wasn't going to be good at playing it, regardless of how much she hoped she could pull an ounce of talent for something non-destructive out of her ass. 

So why had she done it? Why? Why had she tried? Had she really gone up in front of everyone just because she thought playing the piano looked fun?

She knows the answer, but Susie shakes the thought away. Physically shakes her head to banish it because she's just too exhausted to feel so vulnerable again. 

Kris is too damn good at understanding Susie.

Yet Susie still finds Kris difficult to piece together, how they can be so expressive in one moment and completely shut down the next.

It itches at her. The giant piano in the Darkworld…

Susie nudges them with an elbow. “You kinda had to play the Darkworld's piano so we could get through the gate, so it wasn't just for yourself.”

An odd pause.

“True,” Kris hums distantly. “But still. The song resonated with me.”

Understatement of the century.

“I could tell. You got super into it.”

Kris's body flowed with the music, lithe despite their chunky armour. It looked like a dance performed all while sitting down, their hands not wasting a single movement. Susie doesn't doubt that if it weren't for the unfamiliar song, Kris could've played with their eyes shut. But at the time, all she could do was watch in awe as her friend played the instrument like it was… a part of them…

“Oh.”

Kris raises a brow when she looks over to them.

“I think I get it now.”

Kris offers a rare smile. “Yeah?”

Susie nods, “You are the piano.”

Slowly, they tilt their head. Even slower, they nod.

“...Yeah.”

The way Kris talked about the piano being a way to express themselves. They don't do their playing for an audience; they do it for fulfillment. A way to get emotions out, a way to express themselves, without actually having to say anything.

They treat the piano like an extra limb, and their body accommodates. Like throwing a punch, you put your whole body into it instead of just flexing your arm and hoping for the best.

“Is there any sheet music lying around?” Susie asks, remembering that the world is not just the two of them on this bench. There's nothing on the stand of the piano, and she doesn't see any folders on the receptionist desk she'd looked over prior. 

“Not that I know of, but that's fine.” Kris taps their fingers on the top of hers. “I know a few verses off-hand that you will probably like.”

Susie sighs in relief. “Good. I don't know how to read notes anyway.” 

“Worst part of playing for sure,” Kris dramatically swoons as though they've been personally wounded by the stuff. Considering the concept of piano lessons, they definitely have.

“But first,” Kris coughs and gets all teacher-y again. “Play some random notes. I promise it's fun.”

Kris pulls their hands back into their lap for the moment, and Susie finds herself mourning the loss before remembering the piano she's supposed to be conquering.

She's half tempted to just start smashing notes. It's how she'd let her emotions go any other day. 

Today, she hesitates.

So many songs put together with intention, that sound good regardless of the feeling behind them. Slow songs meant for sadness, upbeat for happiness. Loud for anger.

The memory of Kris's hands dancing on the keys, beats of music of their own making.

It's about the flow.

Fighting is like that, too. At first, it can look like desperation, and maybe it can be like that between rookies. But if you're a good fighter, there are lapses between moves. Points where you're supposed to take a breath. The rhythm of moving from a swing into a dodge- steady feet, two steps back- into another swing. Holding her weight just so that she doesn't topple over.

You don't just start punching in desperation; you'll look ridiculous and not achieve anything.

So, maybe she shouldn’t start smacking keys that same way.

Take it slow, or whatever.

Susie breathes, letting her eyes rest a moment before opening them anew. She can feel Kris's eyes on her, not as an audience but as someone who understands.

The tiles are cool as she presses them down, keeping the touch as soft as she can. The texture is smooth, and without Kris's guidance, her fingers twitch and a key gets pressed too hard- but it's fine. Kris doesn't even try to make a lighthearted joke out of it like she thought they would. 

Each moment passes into the next.

The noise she creates doesn't sound like a song, but it also doesn't sound entirely terrible. Her fingers manage to drawl into their own rhythm at points, until it's like she can feel the vibration in her throat.

Actually, she can literally feel the vibration in her legs, with how they're up against the body of the instrument.

“This is nice,” she murmurs.

Kris leans their head onto her shoulder, their jaw sharp. Another few keys are pressed awkwardly as Susie fumbles. Their wet hair tickles her neck in the places her own isn't wildly tangled on her back. Her right arm is pretty restricted by the whole person sitting next to her, but Susie would rather have Kris beside her.

“Mhm.” 

The piano notes fill the room, echoing in place of the ever-pouring rain. It makes the place seem a little friendlier, a little less sterile. 

In the mess of notes, Susie finds a place to end it satisfyingly with a particularly deep key placed far on the left.

They sit there as the note drags on, focusing on the way it rings out into nonexistence. Her finger lifts, the key rising with a thunk.

“You said you know a song I'd like?” Susie asks quietly. The moment feels delicate, the sound of words almost spoiling it.

It's odd, the way she can feel Kris smile against her shoulder. It makes her chest warm.

“Right.” Kris sits up and returns their hands to their place on top of hers. “It doesn't work perfectly but…”

She clicks her teeth together, smirking. “Didn't you say something about not playing for an audience?”

Kris kicks her under the piano, and the stool once again squeaks threateningly. They blink at her with wide eyes, “I must make a good teacher.”

She snorts, but can't bring herself to oppose their words. 

Kris pushes her hands closer to the keyboard. “I'll try to guide your hands where they need to go.”

The first note Kris tries to guide her into playing slips onto the wrong key. They huff a laugh and try again with better success. 

Susie watches with her hands and arms mostly slack as Kris guides them into pressing and playing notes, sticking mostly to the middle and left. The way they use both hands at once is as mesmerizing as it has always been.

The music is definitely choppy, but the fact that it's recognizable as music is a feat in itself. If she ever thought watching Kris play was something special, having them play piano with her hands was a whole other feeling. The music rings through her, drowning out even the beat of her heart.

“You have good hands for piano,” Kris remarks quietly, not pausing in their ministrations. Their fingers pushing onto Susie's, hers onto the tiles. 

She can't quite place an emotion to the tune, but it has a nice beat, with it sounding like something that'd play in the background of a game, quiet but strong.

Maybe a hero's theme song?

“I always thought my fingers were too… clunky.” Her eyes don't leave the piano. Her left hand plays the long, deeper notes with mostly two fingers at a time while her right flits about on the middle keys with lighter tunes. Kris is definitely playing the wrong notes more often than not, but it still manages to sound good enough that Susie can't always tell when said wrong notes are.

That she's thought herself incapable of using her hands for anything but violence, is what she doesn't say.

Kris leans slightly over Susie's lap, guiding her with the movement of their arms. Their shoulder is close enough to rub her throat. Really, how are they managing to play in such an awkward position?

On top of their own arm distance from the keyboard, which has got to be less than ideal, they've made her hit two notes with one hand at the same time. One with her pointer finger and another with her pinky. As though responding to her thoughts, Kris continues.

“Big hands are good for reach,” Kris mumbles. “Sometimes I really have to strain to get the notes I want.”

Laughter bubbles in her throat despite the ounce of indignation she feels. The thought of her hands, tough scales and worn knuckles, being naturally suited towards piano playing?

Ridiculous. So ridiculous that Susie feels warmth prodding at her face and the edges of her mouth.

“You saying I'm a natural then?” She croaks- before trying to cover it up with a self-satisfied huff.

“Something like that,” Kris answers honestly.

The music flows with the background noise of the rain and both of their breaths, until it gradually softens and wanes out into nothing.

Kris's hands slow to a stop, and their little corner of the world goes quiet. 

Her hands shake, buzzing with some weird energy. “I never…”

Susie, being a natural at something besides fighting. What a thought.

She stretches, leaning far over Kris so the tips of her fingers can reach the highest note on the keyboard before dragging her palms back down to her end. A chaotic decrescendo ranging from the highest to the lowest pitches the instrument can play.

Then Kris cackles, and from there she's lost in a fit of movement and clacking keys. Both of them side by side, squishing their respective low and high pitch notes together into an amalgamation of terribly fun noise. Her ears ring with it, but it's all secondary to Kris's laughter and taunts that she rises to meet with friendly ease. 

One way or another, the stool topples over in a fit of their unbalance with the stools leg somehow snapped. The thumping of her heart doesn't slow, and she and Kris meet each other's wide eyes in the sudden, shocked silence.

“...Breaking and entering, huh?”

Susie gasps for air so hard between laughs that she thinks she's going to suffocate. It gradually calms into something more manageable as she catches her breath, lying back on the floor and letting her lungs rise to fight gravity. It feels like flower petals tingle the back of her throat- the feeling of having laughed for a good long while.

Eventually, Kris ends up flopping down by her side on the floor. Indoor stargazing, except that the stars she's looking at are on a white tile background, and the stars are just tiny dots of black dust.

It's a companionable silence, but the night must wear on.

So Kris shuts their eyes, looking like they're dreading their own words. “I have to go home soon.”

A weariness weighing on her shoulder blades, a sigh lodging in her throat.

“I can't stay over tonight,” Susie interrupts, already expecting their next question. Her eyes skip a blink, going dry as she stills.

Kris doesn't visibly make an indication that they're offended at the sudden hardness in her voice. She traces the ceiling tiles with her vision, counting. Ten across, and nine, ten, eleven, twelve wide.

“Sorry, I just… agh.” Susie turns to look at Kris, hands cushioned behind her head. She shuts her eyes and relishes in the sting of not having blinked for so long. The white of the hospital is so blindingly bright that it manages to creep past her eyelids. A shame, for how nice it is to consider a gentler embrace on her tired and dry eyes.

“Just not tonight,” she repeats.

Somewhere beyond the hospital, a gust of wind that whistles through the trees makes rain splatter loudly on the windows. After the rush, the noises calm back down into steadiness. 

As if in contradiction, Kris yawns loudly. “Got it. We'll see each other at the festival.”

With her worry that Kris, for whatever reason, would be offended at her refusal to sleep over again, is squashed, she breathes a sigh of relief.

But, right. The festival. That's tomorrow, or today, depending on how she looks at it. It'll be fun, so hopefully the rain wears itself out tonight and doesn't follow into the coming morning. It'd suck if the vendors and whatever the hell else were cancelled because of the weather.

“I can meet you at the gate of Noelle's house,” Susie offers, figuring that there's no point in walking past it and going to Kris's house when they have to pass by the gate anyway.

They tap their shoes on the floor, all dead weight and flopping limbs, unable to sit still even though they've got to be tired.

“Sounds good,” Kris says. They don't continue despite how it sounds like they cut themselves off mid-sentence.

Okay then.

“Anyway, I'm pretty hyped.”

She expects an agreement, and she prepares her questions about what kinds of greasy food Kris thinks there will be tomorrow. There's got to be food trucks, right? Burgers, fries, hot dogs… maybe even an ice cream truck. The thought makes her mouth water.

But Susie has never actually been to a festival before, so she should ask Kris what else she should expect. Maybe some flimsy, rigged games with cheap prizes, or hastily put-up rides that look like they'll tumble over in the slightest wind. Oh, she'll so destroy their ass in a game of-

“I can, like, wander off for a bit if just you and Noelle wanted to hang out?” Kris says smoothly, turning to look at her when she doesn't answer right away. 

She squints her eyes at them, puzzled. “Why..?”

Kris blinks, “Why what?”

“Why would you leave me and Noelle?”

Because yeah, it's supposed to be the three of them. Noelle giggling in the back over both of their antics, her and Kris dragging Noelle around and showing her a good time.

Noelle is nice, and Susie wants to see her more. But after today, the thought of not having someone beside her who didn't go through what she did is nauseating. Which leaves two people total, and Ralsei-

Isn't an option.

So, Kris.

…Does Kris want to go do something by themselves at the festival? Is that why they're asking? But for what reason could that possibly be?

As she continues staring at Kris, a pink flush rises on their skin. They groan and roll flat onto their face, kicking their feet in the air. She hears their voice muffle into the floor. 

“Never mind!”

Whatever, she shrugs and leans back. “Stick with us. It'll be more fun that way.”

Really, it'll probably be the only way she'll have fun at all. Susie can't imagine anything that would be half as fun as it would be with Kris beside her, spewing jokes and poking at everything in sight.

Still, the festival is a sleep away.

At the thought of sleep, her mind begins to drift in swirling loops, her muscles numbing into sludge and letting Susie get carried away in the silence filling her head. Her soft breaths satisfyingly expand her lungs, slow and light. 

The night drags on, and her spot on the cool tile floor warms ever so slowly. 

“I know you said you had to go soon, but chilling like this is nice.”

It sucks that the moment can't last forever.

“Mhh.” Kris makes a vague noise of agreement.

Susie has never felt silence with another person that wasn't uncomfortable. This is a first, and the longer she listens, the more her eyes droop. Still, something itches at her. The absence of… something. Her and Kris, the hospital waiting room. The piano, the bench, its broken leg. The cool air of night, the steady- 

“The rain's stopped,” she whispers.

This time, Kris doesn't respond. 

Susie peeks an eye open, looks at their closed eyes and open mouth breathing, and smiles.

Stretching her arms behind her neck, she looks back at the ceiling.

She'll let Kris sleep for a little while longer, before this moment in time passes and becomes a fond memory. 

Susie enjoys it while she can.

It's been a long day.