Not me updating at 12:30 am after being so hyped to publish this chapter and then forgetting. Anyway, I really like this and hope you do too. Killer slowly fixing himself 😔

Left you in your sleep once you were stable, it's the first time in a while I've seen you look so calm and sweet.
I have a suggestion for you, how about you try reconnect with your old friends, meet up with them - or at least call them. You're a social person Killer, don't limit yourself to only the house.
Also, keep the plant going for a month Xx
-Dream-

The note left a pit at the bottom of his stomach, forefinger and thumb rubbing at the corner of the paper until it crumpled. Socialise. The word left a nasty feeling in his mouth, acidic and burning. When Dream and him were together they really hadn't socialised much - and they didn't have to - they had each other; that was all they needed. A few times Horror and Dust had tried to contact him, Cross too. But he hadn't the stomach to speak to any of them. He wanted to make Dream pleased, he really did, but he didn't know if he could manage.

But his mind didn't linger on that for too long, eyes fixated on one sentence. Keep the plant going for a month. A month. A whole month. That meant he was supposed to keep himself from death for an entire month, and that meant he wouldn't see Dream again until the end of it. It made him feel sick. Though the fact that last night was the longest Killer got to spend with the angel softened the blow a bit; it hadn't been a quick scold and hug before departure. They'd cuddled, kissed, slept, as if all of the near past had been forgotten. He wished every day could be like last night.

Thinking of the time they'd spent together his gaze cast down to his wrist where the yellow beaded bracelet hung, its brightness dulled slightly to a brown by his stupidity.

I left three in the back garden for you, thinking you might start cleaning it up.

Dream's words rang in his skull and he stepped to the bedroom window, peeling back the curtains just slightly to look out at the garden below. It did truly look appalling and he felt a twinge of guilt for letting it spiral so out of hand. But the longer he stared at it the worse his mind berated him. What, he couldn't even do some weeding because he'd been too busy crying to himself for the fourth time that day? It seemed pathetic now.

But the garden was large, a nice and open plot that ran down the back of the house. It was big enough to put a trampoline in if you wanted - which neither of them did. It slowly dawned on him just how much effort and time it would take to clean out the garden - a monumental effort he couldn't manage by himself.

I have a suggestion for you, how about you try reconnect with your old friends, meet up with them - or at least call them. You're a social person Killer, don't limit yourself to only the house.

The words in Dream's letter sprung to mind and he gnawed at his knuckle, teeth scraping over the bone aggressively until red lines ran across it. When he'd said not to limit himself only to the house, he was sure the angel had meant for him to go out to a cafe, a park, some woodland or a restaurant to be amongst other people. But for now maybe he could evade his suggestion without actually refusing - the back garden didn't count as the house, did it?

His gaze drifted to his phone and he sighed, soul thumping in his chest at a pace so harsh he felt his rib cage might bruise. He hadn't looked over his contacts in months, ignoring messages and letting calls ring out until it switched them to voicemail. But even that was painful to listen to - he could remember when he'd made that automated message exactly. He'd been in the bedroom, on his fifth attempt while Dream continuously tickled his feet, making him hiss, gasp, jump in surprise. In the end he'd had to threaten the other with his knives as he'd recorded the message, but his amused tone could still he heard throughout. He desperately wanted to change it, but the idea of his friends calling up to listen to his depressed and broken voice mutter that he wasn't there didn't sound like it would benefit him or them in any way. So he kept it.

It was like the videos he refused to delete of himself and Dream. The guardian had hated his picture being taken, really, he'd hated it. But occasionally he'd managed to snap a cheeky and well timed picture, or took a video of him interrupting while cooking. In the times when he was craving to see the angel he'd watch them over, just to hear his voice, to watch his scowl and embarrassed hissing as he tried to block himself from sight of the camera. He only had three to rewatch, and he'd seen them so many times that he could mutter their words as they were spoken, whisper what Dream would say next, mime out the actions they'd do as the guardian reluctantly smiled for a moment in the video before ordering him to delete it. He'd taken a screenshot of nearly moment of that video, especially Dream's smile. It had two effects on him: one, breaking down into tears. Or two, smiling back.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the phone, breath catching in his throat. His lock screen was still Dream, he loved the image too much. His home screen however had been set to default. Dragging his fingers to his contacts he bit his lip, hesitating massively before he forced himself to jab at a number.

The phone rang for three, painful notes before it picked up, static ringing on the other side for a moment before a voice spoke.

"Hello?"

"Hey um-" His voice cracked and he had to stop for a moment to steady himself, hand rubbing his throat. "I know- it's- it's been a while but I- I was wondering if um, if um y-you and the guys would want to come over later—"

——————

Cross was the first to arrive.

Killer had fumbled to the doorway, smoothing down his fresh white shirt and hastening to pull his shoes on. The rush of air from the door came as a surprise and he stepped back, the light causing him to squint. An awkward silence lingered in the cold air before Cross spoke, his voice deeper than he remembered, though soft.

"You look awful."

Mouth twisting into a scowl he scoffed, stepping back to let him. "I know."

Humming lowly the soldier stepped in, gaze sweeping across the living room to rest on the piled cardboard boxes before he stared at the flower in the centre. He thankfully didn't comment on it. Explaining that Dream saved him as a guardian angel every other day and told him to look after a plant to measure his progress didn't sound like a fun conversation.

"The others will be on their way, Horror was stressing over something in the oven." He walked around the living room as if he owned it, posture straight as it had always been. "Oh, and Nightmare won't be coming."

He hadn't expected him to. He didn't want him to.

"He uh, says he's sorry- we'll, no, he didn't, but he offers his condolences in the vague way he always does." His smile was half hearted but Killer nodded.

"Yeah, whatever."

In the ideal situation he'd hoped for Horror or Dust to arrive first - the three of them used to be inseparable, glued at the hip until Killer had split from the group. If they were here the conversation would have been easier, starting out of nothing and developing to the same. Instead he was stuck standing with Cross, the man who's boyfriend regularly fantasised over the death over his fiancé. And here they were now.

He didn't expect much pity really - for years on end the whole gang (himself included) had been enemies of Dream and his group, trying to kill him at every opportunity. Maybe Killer's view on the guardian had changed juristically, but theirs had not. They were still enemies to the end, and had only acted civil for Killer's sake. He knew none of them had been pleased when he'd announced the engagement, and the blank look Cross gave to the skeleton's ringed finger was enough to confirm that. None of them cared that Dream died, they only busied themselves with how Killer's mental state reacted as a result. Any fool could see that it had gone to shit.

"I think he regrets it, really."

"Cross-" His voice wavered and he forced himself to take a breath. He wasn't ready for this conversation. "I don't want to talk about it."

The other didn't seem too bothered, shrugging the topic away as if he were removing a layer of clothing. "Alright."

The silence was painful and Killer found himself scratching at his bandaged wrist anxiously, hoping to god the other wouldn't comment on the blood. He didn't, Killer breathed out in relief.

When the doorbell rang he nearly jumped out of his bones, soul twisting and clenching at his chest. More people. More awkward apologies. More pitiful glances. More frustration and reminders of his loss. Nonetheless he was quick to answer it, fingers grasping around the handle as he studied the silhouettes of his two best friends.

The moment the door had swung wide enough for a broad rib cage to fit through, Horror did. He dragged Killer into his arms and nearly crushed him, crooked fingers clasped around his back. If not for the wind being snatched from his lungs he would have yelled, but his body went limp instead, slumping into him. How long had it been since someone had hugged him like that aside from the ghostly hugs of an angel?

"Put him down, Horror." Dust's raspy voice spoke and Killer nearly cried. He hadn't realised how desperate he'd been to hear people's voices- to hear the chatter of his friends.

Horror reluctantly did as he was told, placing the smaller down on the floor with a gruff apology. His voice sounded just like he remembered - rough and gravelly, as if he were constantly recovering from a coughing fit. God it sounded like music to him. "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine- really." He breathed out, a wobbly smile forming as he let them in. "I'm- I'm so glad you came.."

"You make it sound like we wouldn't." Horror grinned, shoving something into his unsuspecting grip.

"Wh-?"

"I made you something, food of course." He grinned and looked him up and down expectantly. In his hands lay a plate covered in tinfoil, its surface crinkled and stained with previous use. Warily peeling it back Killer squinted at the blobbed shapes lurking beneath. Often Horror experimented with his cooking; experiments that weren't always bodily safe or remotely edible. However whatever these were looked fine.  "It's double chocolate brownies."

"Oh." He pulled one free of its tin foil prison and stared for a moment. "You haven't put toothpaste or something in it, have you?" He wouldn't put it past him to pull off a prank.

"Killer." He grinned and gave him a look of false innocence. "Why would I ever do that to you? I'm saddened you gave such little faith." But his mannerisms gave it all away.

"He laced them with rum." Dust rolled his eyes as he stepped past, taking the plate of brownies and taking them to the living room. "He bought some for himself and decided he hated it, so had to get rid of the rest so it wasn't a waste." He seemed to intend to place the plate on the table, but upon seeing the flower and it's apparent importance he let it rest on the arm of a sofa instead.

Smirking slightly Killer shoved the carnivorous skeleton, taking a bite. "Idiot." The taste was overpowering, a sickly sweet liqueur that made his eye sockets water. He'd be in no rush to devour all them.

Horror shrugged sheepishly and shut the door behind him to join everyone else inside the central room of the house. It was in that moment that he realised that the others had most likely never been into his home - he had always come to the mansion to visit, not the other way round. It wasn't really much to show off in its current condition, though what he'd request of them in a moment wasn't much better.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I gathered you here?" He spoke and for a moment swallowed a chuckle as he noted how much he'd sounded like a detective rounding up the suspects of a murder case to expose them one by one.

"I hope it's not just to eat Horror's brownies." Cross spoke, mouth twitching in a smirk as he watched him from where he sat on the couch. Killer's bones prickled. That's where Dream used to sit.

Pushing away the thought, he shook his head and managed to shoot a slight grin at the jagged skeleton. "No, I have a request of you all- and I know this might sound shitty or stupid but um- I've been starting to make an effort in pulling my life back together and, well, I've been cleaning the house up and everything inside, but not.. outside."

His words lingered as he was watched their blank expressions. "You don't have to Uh- but I was hoping you guys might help me clean up the back garden a bit." His words faded into nothing and he felt his bones jar, the suggestion for them to forget all of that and instead devour the brownies Horror made was thick on his tongue, nearly overwhelming. But a sudden clap on his back had the words die out and he turned to look at Dust who smirked back at him.

"Of course we'll help you, it'd do us good to do some actual work for once." His tone was genuine and it made Killer's soul ache. He didn't deserve such kindness after he'd blocked them out of his life for months on end without a word.

"I- thanks guys.." He murmured. "This- this means a lot to me."

"Yeah yeah." Cross waved a hand dismissively, not really one for emotions (much like his partner). "Don't start crying on us Killer, we'll bully you to no end for it."

"Let us have our moment." Horror pushed the monochrome and stepped to Killer's side. "But yes, we will bully you - irrelevant. Take us to this wild monster of a back garden for us to demolish."

"We're not demolishing it- just taming it." Killer muttered, walking through the kitchen with the three trailing behind him like lost little ducklings. He heard Horror comment on the cleanness of the room and he couldn't help but smile for the knowledge that he'd done a good job. Dream was proud and he knew it. It was as if he could sense him hovering over his shoulder to encourage him, saying he was doing such a good job.

Through the glass of the back door he could see the rose bush that curled across the panes, pastel petals bumping softly against it in a pretty picture. Dead heads floated around it, shrivelled leaves and curled softness gone dry. He'd see to it personally that the bush was well treated.

The back door was stiff, the lock creaking in protest as he slid it back. When was the last time he'd even been out here? It must have been forever. Him and Dream didn't really go out in the garden much anyway, occasionally eating outside or enjoying the sun. Otherwise they would only garden once a week on a Saturday; pulling up weeds and clipping back the plants to keep everything clean and orderly. With a bit of effort the door swung open, himself stumbling out behind.

Once outside it became apparent that it was in a worse state than he'd first thought. From the bedroom window everything looked subdued in a way - less wild than he'd expected - but from here it looked truly overgrown. The grass stretched to tickle their knees and was plagued by weeds, some yellow headed dandelions stretching up to claw at the sunlight greedily. In the far corner where the cherry tree stood brambles engulfed the lower trunk, angry and stubborn thorns jutting and curling to stab at the ground. Plump blackberries hung from their flowers, their ashen surfaces spotted with drying dew from this mornings rain shower.

To the side the old flower bed had gone wild, all sorts of flowers springing up to bend haphazardly. Red poppies, purple lavender, white daisies and blue headed chrysanthemums. He decided in the moment that he liked it, murmuring that the bed would be fine growing like that on his own. There was no need for ripping them all out when they looked so pretty.

The garden shed looked dull and messy, it's paint work stripped from the rain and wind that battered it. The tools they'd need were inside that shed. Stepping through the long and wiry grass Killer frowned, stumbling to reach the door as he drew the heavy key from his pocket. It pushed into the lock with a clunk, rumbling in displeasure at the intrusion. But it opened none the less, heavy wood swinging open to reveal the mess of cobwebs and dust that had descended upon the garden tools like a bad hex.

From his position in the doorway he could make out the murky shapes of the tools and equipment they'd need, and far back in the shadows he could see the twisted structure of the lawnmower.

"Do you want us to do different things each? To work in sections?" Dust asked, startling him by his side.

"Oh uh- yeah-" Killer nodded sharply, reaching in to grab a set of nasty secateurs with dangerously glinting blades. "If someone could use these- they'd be good at cutting down all the brambles around the cherry tree." His voice wavered, feeling like he was in no position to be asking his friends to do things as if he were in charge. But to his surprise Cross stepped forwards, grabbing the handle of them with a grunt. "I'll take them - the rest of you with such sharp objects doesn't sit well with me."

The assassin's mouth couldn't help but twitch in a smile and he nodded, letting Cross take them. "Horror, would you be okay with mowing the lawn?"

The large skeleton stepped over with a grin and nodded quickly as if he'd been asked to personally eat all the chocolate in the house. "Sure thing."

As Killer watched the man haul out the lawnmower from the back of the shed he felt a tingling wash of relief, his target soul pulsing in his chest. They were so willing to help him, so quick to assist when he needed it. He didn't deserve them at all, really. Not after he'd given them complete radio silence for months on end.

Rubbing his shoulder lightly Dust smirked, amused to see Horror attempt to remember with his minimal brain cells how to start up the old mower. "So what can I do for you?"

Looking across the garden he smiled, handing him a few tools. "If you could start by getting rid of the weeds in the patio, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"Of course, yeah. What will you do?" He stepped to the patio, Killer following behind with a smaller secateur in hand. "I'm going to tackle the rose bush."

All in all the garden took around one hour to look relatively clean; to tame the wild brambles and mow the grass down until it was clean.

Cross had done a great job of savaging the brambles, cutting them down to fleshy stumps sprouting from the ground around the back fence. They'd grow back certainly, so a later planned session with spades and forks would work to tear the roots from the ground and bin it for good. At the trunk of the cherry tree two black bin bags were overflowing to the brim with green waste, brambles and thorns, blades and bows of grass spilling from the top haphazardly. Not all of the devil plant was gone, a growling mess of it still lurking in the back left corner of the garden, but the tree had been freed.

Horror had mown the grass twice, having to deal with malfunctions from sticks, the removal of a mouses nest, and the crunch of rotten cherries working their way through the mechanics over and over. It had most likely been tedious for the skeleton, but he'd persevered until the lawn lay flat and clean. They'd scrape up all the squashed and putrid fruits off of the ground later.

Thanks to Dust the patio was now weedless, though still in desperate need of a power wash to brighten the filthy slabs. They once used to be a striking cream colour; now they were a murky brown. The job hadn't taken too long and afterwards the skeleton started tearing the suffocating ivy from the back wall and fence, battling with the garden tools to rip their fingers from every surface they clung to. That was another job that still needed finishing.

The climbing rose had been subdued from a raging monster to a pretty picture, stretching over the back door in an arch instead of trying to consume it. The colours looked brighter after chopping off those dead heads and pruning back the overbearing arms of thorns. His fingers were scratched up to no end and they throbbed with a dull ache but he didn't care. He'd enjoyed it.

Deciding they'd all deserved a break they sat on the mown grass together, drinking water and eating Horror's sickly rum brownies while catching up, simply talking about everything they'd missed and all their plans.

With the sun out and the clouds thin it looked a pretty picture; four friends sat in a messy-clean garden, sharp and dangerous tools littered around them as they downed water and waved their sticky chocolate fingers around to exaggerate a story in a slightly drunken manner. Laughter filled the air and in that fleeting moment it as if the past year had never happened.

Head tipped back with a snicker Killer sank his fingers into the grass, not caring for the sticky mess they'd become. His pupils flickered across the sky, the blues whites and yellows that stood out so clearly to him. As he smiled he wondered for a brief second whether Dream was watching him from up in heaven, staring down at him through the crowds as Horror said something to cause an uproar of laughter amongst them all.

Maybe he was smiling too.

————————————————————————

Really didn't expect this to be my longest chapter of this book at 3,900 words but hey, it was probably one of my favourites to write I can't lie I enjoyed this immensely.

Killer is slowly recovering from his loss, but what does that mean for Dream? 😳

Next chap of this would probably be Dream's viewpoint from heaven but next I want to write some of 'soulmates' but from kreme perspective yum

Hope you all enjoyed

-Jess-