Chapter 5

[ Past tense ]

His world had been devastated. Completely devastated. There was nothing left, just him. Him, a pathetic skeleton unable to protect his own. He, a skeleton who'd hoped in vain, hoped that it would start all over again, that he could take back history, change it. He'd had the crazy hope that Chara could help him...

[ Chara had betrayed him ]

He thought he could count on Ink

[ Ink had abandoned him ]

He thought he was backed by Nightmare

[ Nightmare tried to kill him ]

So Cross had given up. Alone in the depths of some universe, waiting for his impending death, he had given up his dreams, his hopes. He had given up the idea of seeing his friends again, of seeing his dear brother, of seeing his world again. He had given up the idea of finding a family again, of connecting with new people.

[Because he was worthless]

[He was just a mistake.]

[ Mistake that would soon go away ]

At least he thought so. Until this apparition, this almost divine apparition. This little skeleton, this angel descended from heaven, who appeared one day before him in a portal of light.

Dream, the brother of Nightmare, the guardian of positive emotions.

Cross had felt his soul miss a beat as he watched, with a mixture of wonder and curiosity, this little being approach him. This adorable little being, with such sweet eyes, such a tender smile. This little being who had crouched down beside him, who had gently grasped his hands, who had spoken to him with a voice full of kindness and gentleness :

"I felt your negative emotions... Do you need help?"

And Cross knew his life would never be the same again.

"Cross, are you all right?"

The swordsman was startled. He didn't expect to be disturbed in the middle of the night, but in the end he should have foreseen this: Dream must have sensed he was brooding, prey to recurring insomnia.

The young guard had come to sit beside him:

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Cross had shaken his head, his throat tied. If he said a word, he could burst into tears. Instead, he took advantage of his friend's comforting presence, came to lay his head on his shoulder. Dream was so gentle and patient, Cross had never known a monster like him before, and it warmed his heart to be so sheltered and pampered by such an innocent little angel.

It had been a tough battle. Nightmare was in a dark rage, and Cross suspected it was his fault. He'd fallen under the wrath of the Nightmare Master for his betrayal, and it was all coming down on him. In the end, he could accept that. But for Dream to get hurt too, that was unacceptable!

"I'm sorry…" Cross whispered as he finished bandaging the guard's arm. I didn't mean to... I didn't want you to pay the price. »

And Dream had smiled, as tender as ever:

"You can't blame yourself Cross... We're friends, it's normal that I intervene!"

But Cross couldn't accept it. No, no, he couldn't accept that his guardian angel should be treated this way, that someone as adorable as Dream should be unjustly hurt! And he couldn't understand why such a sweet person was so stubborn:

"Your brother is the worst kind!" he cried, trembling with rage. We must finish him off once and for all, so he can never hurt anyone else!

- NO!"

Cross was startled: it was the first time Dream had screamed like that. Dream who came and grabbed his hands with force, his eyes feverish, his body trembling:

"Please... I beg you, please don't hurt Nightmare...

- Dream, I know you care about him, but your brother... !

- He's been wounded! He was hurt and abandoned, rejected by everyone, humiliated... ! Cross, you know what it's like... You know what it's like to be on the verge of despair, don't you? You know what it's like to feel so hated, so alone, so excluded from everything, to feel like your life will never get better, that you're going to keep falling until you crash into the bottom of the abyss... !"

Cross had frozen. Yes, yes, he knew what it felt like... And Dream went on, eyes down:

"... Nightmare finally cracked ... what little goodness was left in him was swallowed up, imprisoned by the negativity of the black apples. He's not in control, not completely. All he has to do is be entertained for a moment and the negativity will twist his mind, make him do bad things ... and say bad things."

He looked up at him, his eyes misty with tears:

"He only needs help... Needs someone to show him that nothing's lost, that everything can still get better. So please... don't hurt him…"

Cross thought he was going to cry. Crying at the look of his friend's defeated face. Crying at the thought that Nightmare was more like him than he thought.

He had taken Dream in his arms, held him tightly. Because at that moment, he knew... He knew that he was going to make a big decision.

"I'm going back to Nightmare."

Dream didn't answer at first, too surprised to make any comment. Then when he understood what he had just announced, his eyes widened in terror:

"Wha... What?"

Cross had taken an inspiration:

"I'm going back to Nightmare... and I'm going to guide him. I will show him that he is not just a being of negativity! There must be some good in him! You said it yourself: he lived a horrible life, rejected by everyone, full of hatred against everyone. So I want to do with him what you have done for me: I want to help him, to help him to enjoy life, to be positive, to be happy. »

Cross was determined. Decided to follow in Dream's footsteps.

Dream was not just a friend or a mere guardian: Dream was an example to be followed, an example for every living being. But above all: he was the model Cross wanted to be like.

Dream had helped and supported him, had given him back the hope of being happy, had given him back his smile. And now it was Cross' turn to do something, it was Cross' turn to show someone the way. And that someone would be none other than Nightmare. Because what would make Dream happier than to see his brother be nice again?

"Thank you for all Dream, really!"

He had hugged him one last time, gave him a heartfelt smile.

Then he was gone.

He had left without realizing the wound he had inflicted.

Cross opened his eyes. With a pasty mouth, he didn't get up immediately, sweeping the ceiling with his eyes.

"Slept well? »

He slowly turned his head, crossed Ink's tired gaze. It caused him to straighten up. He and the painter were still at odds, even though Dream had tried several times to reconcile them.

"Wasn't it Dust's job to keep an eye on me?

- No, he looks after Dream…"

Cross did not make a single comment. He did not see himself entering into a verbal joust with the Creator: the Creator was clearly not in the mood. Dream had been in a coma for a few days, and Ink hadn't slept a wink, waiting for him to wake up, but that put him in a terrible state.

Without a word, the painter approached the swordsman and changed the bandage on his skull. A small souvenir of the blow the guard had dealt him...

"You looked like you were having a nightmare…" Ink confessed gently, being careful not to be too abrupt.

Cross remained silent for a moment, staring into the void. He finally closed his eyes while clenching his fists, prey to a guilt that made him want to cry. But he remained in control of himself. At least as much as he could:

"No. I just realized how dumb I was."

And once again, once again he thought he would like to go back in time.

He would have liked to change everything.