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pulchrasilva · 1 year ago

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A Tragedy with a Happy Ending

Fandom: Roleslaying with Roman

Relationships: queerplatonic Criss & Cross

Characters: Criss, Cross

Summary: A tragedy only becomes a tragedy when you reach the end of the story. Two people can have fears and desires that clash, like the edges of puzzle pieces that were never meant to fit together. People can want to stay together, but be led in opposite directions by stronger instincts. Two people can need each other, love each other, and be destined to die apart.

Criss and Cross are a tragedy. They had their chance of life together but they lost it. Now, against all odds, they get a happy ending.

Cross takes Criss by the hand and leads him out into the world for the first time.

Word Count: 4,328

Warnings: arguments, death, fear, grieving, separation from loved ones

Notes: written for @roleslayingweek2023, for the prompt "Criss & Cross"

AO3 // Masterpost

A tragedy only becomes a tragedy when you reach the end of the story.

Two people can have fears and desires that clash, like the edges of puzzle pieces that were never meant to fit together. People can want to stay together, but be led in opposite directions by stronger instincts.

Two people can need each other, love each other, and be destined to die apart.

It was an argument they’d had a thousand times before. Cross wanted to leave the cave, to see the real world. Criss didn’t.

“It’s not safe out there!” they cried, although they knew it wouldn’t make a difference. “In here we know that we’re safe. We know the cave, we’ve been here our whole lives! We don’t know what’s out there, Cross!”

“I don’t want to be safe, Criss,” he bellowed back, furious. “I want to explore, to live!”

“We are living! In here, together, this is our life!” Criss could barely force the words out past the lump in his throat. “Why isn’t that enough for you?”

But Cross wasn’t listening.

“What are you so afraid of? What could possibly be out there?”

“Anything! Something terrible could lurk outside the cave!”

“When I go up to the mouth, I see wondrous things just outside the cave.” Cross smiled as he recalled it, a wistfulness on his face than made Criss feel sick. “There’s music out there. The air dances, not stagnant like it is in here. And there are colours everywhere, it’s beautiful.”

“We have colours in here, look!” Criss picked up a dark blue crystal to show him, waving it desperately in his face. “You don’t need the colours from the outside!”

Cross pushed his hand away and scoffed. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?” they demanded.

“You’ve never seen it, Criss, you don’t get it. Up high there’s this round, brilliant thing in the blue. It freely gives this golden light to anything brave enough to go out there and take it. It bursts with energy, all over the world. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It’s not, it’s beautiful.” Cross tilted his head back, imagining it. “I want to feel its warmth on my face. I want to drink the light from its palm.”

“We have the fire! That’s warm and golden and we know how to control it. It’s safe. Why isn’t that enough?”

Shaking his head, Cross looked up to the tiny speck of light that trickled in from the entrance to the cave. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” His voice broke. “You never do.”

“I can’t stay here with the shadows, Criss! You’re afraid of reality but I’m not.”

“You’ll get yourself killed! And then where will I be? In this cave, alone.”

“You don’t have to stay here.” Cross turned back to him, aching sincerity in his eyes. “I want you to come with me. I need you, Criss.”

And Criss didn’t mean to say what he said next. It was like all their frustration and fear became its own entity, speaking through them.

“Well, I need to not die. I certainly don’t need you.”

Cross stumbled backwards, taking the words like a physical blow. He didn’t speak for a minute, the hurt plane on his face.

Then he set his jaw.

“Fine. You can stay here if that’s how you feel.” He took a more decisive step away. “I’m not gonna hang around in the dark if you don’t want me here.”

The horror set in immediately – how could he say that to Cross?

But what could he say to make it right? Nothing.

Criss could only stare helplessly as Cross turned his back on them and marched towards the light, leaving them alone in the darkness.

***

He would be back, Criss decided. He would see how dangerous it was in the outside world and he’d regret ever leaving.

Besides, Cross wouldn’t leave them in the dark alone. Would he?

But Criss had hurt him, and they couldn’t just brush that aside. He needed to do something to apologise.

So Criss got to work.

It was an idea they’d had together, after the arguments had grown too frequent for them to ignore the problem any longer. A series of trials meant to test their friendship and help them understand each other better.

They were supposed to build it together, and go through it together, and come out the other side closer than before. But Criss could get started while he waited for Cross’s return.

When he got back, they could finish it together. They’d complete the course and forgive each other.

Then they could be together again, in their cave where it was safe. The conflict would be over. They would finally have a happy ending.

***

Cross stormed up the narrow path, furious.

Criss was so selfish, it was unbelievable. He didn’t want to leave Criss behind but they were so stubborn, just refused to listen to reason.

I certainly don’t need you.

Cross was not about to spend his whole life in darkness for someone who didn’t even need him there.

He was totally lost in his head, marching ahead on autopilot as he replayed the argument. He wasn’t even thinking about where he was going, only trying to get as far away as possible – he’d told Criss he was leaving, so that was what he had to do. Leave and never look back.

It was only when he felt the warmth on his horns that Cross realised he had stepped beyond the shadow of the cave.

It was just as beautiful as he’d imagined.

Great rolling planes of emerald shards flowed down in all directions, as far as the eye could see. A path of soft dirt cut through the hills, leading around the incline and into the distance.

Things buzzed around him, and a chorus of chirping filled the quiet. The air hummed with life, spinning with sound and softness. The sound was entirely uncoordinated but gentle, peaceful in its randomness – like the sound of an underground spring, trickling through the air.

Above it all, a brilliant sapphire dome encircled the world. It looked like the roof of their cave, but so high up that he couldn’t hope to touch it. Breathtaking.

Cross reached up anyway, fingers outstretched towards that orb of light, the greatest treasure. It was so bright that his eyes watered as he stared at it, until he had to blink and look away. Even then, it left an imprint on his vision, as if making sure he would never forget it.

How could Criss think the fire would be a worthy replacement for this? That was like taking a plain rock and calling it diamond! The fire’s light didn’t even reach past the circle they huddled in, could only warm them from one side. This, this was so much more. Light and heat and brilliant gold everywhere, embracing him.

A small creature, delicate and bejewelled, fluttered through the air. It brushed past Cross’s face, leaving a tingling sensation behind. It was the first outside creature he’d ever touched.

There was no pain, just a ticklish sensation. The world didn’t end. He didn’t collapse and die in a fit of agony.

Despite all the bluster he put on in front of Criss, some part of him unclenched deep inside his chest.

“See, Criss?” he said aloud, to the air and the creatures, to the whole wide world. “Told you it’s not dangerous.”

He grinned, puffed out his chest, and strode towards new adventure.

***

Cross had left his sword behind.

As Criss continued shaping the caverns and enchanting crystals, it burned in the back of their mind.

It lay next to his place by the fire, waiting for its owner’s hand to wield it again.

Cross didn’t have his sword. He didn’t even wear any armour. What if he was attacked? How was he supposed to defend himself?

Cross was strong. He might be able to fight off his attackers even without a weapon – but how strong were the creatures in that world?

As afraid as Criss was, part of him believed in Cross’s skill. He would be fine. Cross was incredible. He wouldn’t let himself go out that fast.

And he’d be back soon. No matter how angry he was, Cross wouldn’t leave them down here for that long. Would he?

Criss busied himself with creating what they’d planned together. The Communicave, they decided to call it. A fitting name. Cross would love it when he got back.

If he got back.

The time stretched on. Criss was getting twitchy.

Cross wouldn’t just leave him here, he refused to believe that. But the alternative was that Cross couldn’t get back, he was trapped or hurt!

And what was Criss supposed to do about that? Cross had always been the heavy-lifter, he was the one to dig them out of cave-ins. Criss couldn’t fight, they couldn’t even make it past the mouth of the cave. If Cross was stuck or in danger, he couldn’t even hope to help.

But Cross was hurt, maybe even dying. Were they really going to hide in the dark while their friend died alone?

Cross’s sword lay by the fire, the sharp edge gleaming in the orange light.

Maybe he hadn’t gotten far. Maybe he was still near the cave, and Criss would find him easily. It wouldn’t take long, just dart out and grab him and they could be back by the fireside before long. And Criss had his magic. If Cross was hurt, they might be able to heal him.

Cross had always wantedthem to be brave, take a few chances.

Criss felt sick.

He grasped the sword by the hilt. The point shook as he held it out in front of him.

Trembling, Criss crept up the path to the surface for the first time.

It wasn’t as bright as Cross had described. It was almost as dark as inside the cave, with only a ghostly silver wash over the outside world. A pale circle hung in the air, like an eye fixed upon them as they approached the boundary of the cave.

It was cold.

They peered out into the darkness, searching for any sign of movement. He couldn’t see Cross anywhere.

It was so open. In the cave, there was only the rock walls, you could see everything nearby. But out here, danger could be hiding anywhere, staring back at him.

They traced along the path with their eyes. And- there! In the distance, a disturbance in the pearlescent blanket that lay across the world. A shadowy figure lurched up the path, approaching the cave.

Criss stood very still. He gripped the sword tighter.

Maybe if they didn’t draw any attention to themself, the figure wouldn’t see the cave. Maybe it would just walk past.

The figure was immediately in front of the cave when it strayed from the path. Moving towards them.

Criss could barely move as the figure approached.

They were going to kill him. They were going to attack him and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, what was he thinking, he didn’t even know how to use this sword-

Before they could get a word out, Criss swung the sword at the figure.

They made a grunt at the impact, and there was the wet noise of metal slipping through flesh.

The sword hit the cave wall hard. The impact was jarring, leaving the bones in Criss’s arms aching even after they’d let go.

He fled, and he didn’t look back.

Cross must be dead. That figure must have killed him, and was coming to get Criss too.

The figure hadn’t followed him down. Maybe he’d scared them off – it had been a surprisingly solid hit.

But it didn’t matter, did it? Criss had saved his own life but he hadn’t saved Cross. And now Criss was going to die down here without him.

Cross was dead, and Criss hadn’t even gotten to apologise.

Back in the safety of the cave, far from the sight of the outside world, Criss fell apart. He collapsed to his knees beside the dying embers of the fire.

The tears came and they didn’t stop. He laid his head on the log Cross used to sit at, saltwater soaking the wood.

Criss cried himself to sleep that night, curled up and alone in the dark and cold. For weeks, they wasted away in that position. And Criss hadn’t moved from the spot once when he eventually died.

***

The clippety-clop of cloven hooves on a stone floor. The smell of fresh bread. The clanging of a bell, the notes echoing in the cave and folding back on each other to create a crescendo of sound.

Music. Warmth.

Life.

***

When he faded back to consciousness, Cross didn’t blink the darkness from his eyes. He certainly tried, but his eyelids didn’t respond.

Looking around, he found he was in the cave. To his left was the outside, light streaming through the cave entrance. To his right was the black hole that led deeper into their home – where Criss must be.

Criss.

He’d been coming back to get them, last he could remember. There was this clearing, this gorgeous clearing, and he just knew Criss would love it. So he’d headed back to the cave to get them, to show them what he’d found. He should go get Criss.

Cross jumped to his feet.

Or not.

As soon as he moved forwards there was a strange clattering noise and a tug in the centre of his chest. It pulled him back, pressing him flat against the wall.

That was weird.

He tried again, only to feel the same blunt force against his chest.

What was that?

Looking down, Cross saw what had become of him for the first time.

Nothing was left of the clothes on his body besides a brown rag around his waist. His flesh had rotted away entirely, leaving only pearly white bones. And sticking out from the centre of his chest was his own sword.

Was he dead?

Yes, yes, he was. He remembered now, coming back to the cave and seeing a shadowy figure approach him. He didn’t know who they were, what they wanted. Just as he was about to ask, they swung the sword into him – through him. They killed him.

Using Cross’s own sword. The sword that he’d left behind.

The figure had been coming out of the cave.

Criss was still in the cave.

“Oh gods,” Cross whispered. The realisation of what must have happened pinned him to the spot far more effectively than the sword did. “Oh no. Oh Criss…”

This was his fault. He should never have left Criss alone. They weren’t a fighter, he couldn’t protect himself! Of course Criss needed him to stay, of course.

The outside world traced a golden line on the floor of the cave. A temptation, one he’d already fallen for. It was laughing at him, still calling to him. Just a few inches from his fingers…

He couldn’t reach it if he tried.

Cross had been so selfish, marching up to the surface just so he could have the world. He didn’t need the world as much as they had needed each other.

And now he was in the cave and he was alone. This was his punishment for failing his friend.

His throat might have tightened if he still had one. His breaths might have picked up into sobbing gasps, but he didn’t have lungs to take in air. He might have cried, but his tear ducts had long-since become dust.

There was nothing Cross could do but sit there against the wall and let the agony wash over him.

The figure had gone back into the cave. That was the last thing he saw as his vision faded, his murdered darting back down the tunnel.

They might still be in there.

Cross drew a deep breath into lungs that didn’t exist. “Turn back now,” he croaked out. Then, louder, “Give up while you can!”

He might have failed Criss, but he would do better now. Cross wouldn’t let anyone else die like his friend had, alone in the dark.

***

Criss awoke to a voice, one he recognised even in his dazed state.

Cross.

His voice was a comfort. Criss’s gut told them something was wrong, deeply wrong. But Cross’s voice was normal, right.

The words filtered into his understanding a bit later.

“Turn back now!” came Cross’s voice from the tunnel out of the cave. “You’ll die if you keep going!”

“Cross? What do you mean?” Criss rattled as they sat up. “Cross?”

The fire had gone cold. Absent-mindedly, he struck the flint against stone to light it once more.

And they rattled again. Every movement he made was accompanied by the sound of dry bones knocking against each other.

Because Criss was dead. He was a skeleton.

“Turn back while you still can!”

And Cross… Cross was dead too!

He was shouting from the mouth of the cave, calling down to Criss. But it wasn’t Cross, was it? Because Cross was dead.

That must be Cross’s ghost.

They knew this would happen. They knew the outside world was far more dangerous than either of them could comprehend. But he’d let Cross march off anyway.

“Oh Cross,” they cried, anguished, voice bouncing off the stone walls. “I never should have let you leave! If only you’d listened!”

Cross had gone out into the world and he’d died.

And now he’d come back from beyond the grave to warn Criss never to do the same.

Well, the ghost would be pleased to know that he had no intention to.

It was terrible, being cooped up by the fire and listening to Cross’s yells for days on end. All Criss wanted was to see him again, to hold him. But Cross had been so stubborn as to leave, and Criss had been too hesitant to stop him, and now they’d never hold him again.

If this was terrible for Criss, how bad must it be for Cross? He’d always hated staying in the cave. And now, even in death, he was trapped here.

Cross had died to get a taste of freedom. His spirit should be allowed to roam free.

But what could Criss do to help him? What was keeping him here?

Unfinished business.

Before he’d left, they’d argued. And they never got a chance to reconcile.

They certainly couldn’t reconcile now, but maybe they didn’t need to. The Communicave was a shared idea. They were supposed to build it together, complete it together, and come out the other side closer.

Criss would have to create it alone now, and it wouldn’t be exactly what they’d imagined. They could only do the magic, so they’d have to leave out the parts that required more manual labour to build.

But the basic idea would be there. It would still help people at odds with each other.

Maybe if Criss helped a pair of friends with opposing views of the world to reconcile their priorities, the same way they and Cross had planned to, Cross would finally be allowed to leave.

Criss would be totally alone without even his voice for company, but that was okay. He owed it to Cross to set him free.

Filled with new purpose, Criss drew themself up from the floor. There was no time to sit by the fire and grieve.

Building the Communicave would be its own kind of funeral.

***

When two adventurers stumbled into the cave, Criss tempted them with the promise of treasure and conducted them through the Communicave. He thought this would finally allow Cross to move on.

It didn’t.

It led to something far better.

He was different, a skeleton like them. His face was nothing like Criss remembered, but they recognised him easily.

Cross was alive. Or – not alive, but not dead either. He was here.

When they embraced, their ribs interlocked like puzzle pieces finally sliding into place. They were closer now than they’d ever imagined possible.

***

When Roman and Youngblood left the cave the following morning, their bond stronger than it had been when they entered. Criss and Cross waved to them as they went.

Then it was quiet. They sat at the entrance to the cave, on the opposite side from the spot Cross had sat in for centuries. Not quite in the cave, but not outside it either.

Cross looked at Criss, but they were looking away.

“Hey.” He nudged them with a bony elbow. It make a clack against his ribs, startling them out of their head. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Criss looked up and just stared at him. It was weird, looking at his face now. He had no eyes, brows, lips, nothing that could show any kind of expression. Cross couldn’t tell what they were feeling as they gazed at him.

“Criss?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. “I just… can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know.” Cross grinned. “Me too.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I missed you.” His voice broke.

Cross paused, then clunked his skull against theirs. “Me too,” he whispered.

“I should never have let you leave,” Criss continued, growing frantic. “Or I should have just gone with you like you asked!” He sat up suddenly. “If we’d just stayed together none of this would have happened! This is all my fault.”

Cross couldn’t really scowl with this face, but he certainly tried. “No it’s not. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Cross. I stabbed you.”

He shrugged.

Criss gaped at him, incredulous. “Cross.”

“What? You were scared! If anything, I shouldn’t have left you in there by yourself.”

“But- but I told you to leave. I said I didn’t need you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

Cross hummed, thinking about it, then shrugged again. “I remember being mad when I left but I didn’t remember what you’d said.”

“Really?”

“Nope! I got distracted by the outside world, I guess.”

They paused, taken aback for just a moment. Then, “was it as beautiful as you’d hoped?”

“Breath-taking,” he murmured. “Oh, you’d love it.”

“It- is it dangerous?”

“It’s not dangerous at all, I promise.”

Then Cross remembered something. He shot to his feet immediately.

“I was just on my way back to get you when you… y’know. I found something I wanted to show you.”

Criss looked up at him out of wide, dark eye sockets.

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Criss’s voice was small, vulnerable. “And it’s not dangerous?”

“No, of course not,” Cross replied softly. He offered them his hand. “Trust me.”

Their bones clacked together as Criss took it. It felt different from before – there was no warmth, no soft flesh padding out their grip. But even after all the centuries apart and all the ways they’d changed, their hands fit together as perfectly as they always had.

Cross grinned and led them out of the cave, into the light.

They tensed as Cross pulled them across the invisible boundary that separated their home from this alien world, as if expecting the light to burn.

The light was just beginning to slant, the orb making its descent below the edge of the world. The first time Cross watched this it was magical – but this time was better.

Light passed over Criss’s head as Cross pulled him through, painting his skull with pale gold.

As the warmth hit his face, some of the tension drained from him. “Oh.”

Cross paused just outside the cave. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Criss breathed. Then, more firmly. “Yeah.” He stared in wonder at the world, lit up so brilliantly. “Wow.”

Laughing, Cross tugged on their hand. “C’mon, it gets better.”

Criss stumbled along behind him, still drinking in the sights. “How can it get better?”

“You’ll see!”

They took off down the path, kicking up clouds of dust that glittered in the dying light. It had been centuries since he’d first walked the path, and Cross didn’t entirely remember the way. But Criss didn’t mind getting a little lost as they wandered around looking for it.

Then they entered the crowd of tall and narrow things, full of browns and greens, that Cross remembered. Eventually, long after the light had drained from the world, Cross caught a glint of gold and he knew he’d found the place.

“Okay, okay,” he said excitedly. “This is it!”

Tentatively, Criss stepped forward, then turned back.

“Go ahead,” Cross encouraged. “I’m right behind you.”

As soon as they stepped into the clearing, they were swept up in a swirl of orange-gold. When Cross broke through the clearing behind them, Criss had their arms outstretched, revelling in the thousand lights that floated on the cool air.

He grinned at the sight. Looked like he’d been right.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know.” Cross shrugged. “But you always liked our fire.”

“I didn’t like the fire, I liked the shadows,” Criss replied absent-mindedly, still focused on the light.

Cross shook his head fondly. “But you like this, don’t you?”

When Criss turned back to him some of the lights had settled on their face, lining the velvet darkness of their eye sockets with firelight. “I do like it.” They beamed at him. “Thank you.”

They were never supposed to get this. Their story had ended long ago, and it ended in tragedy. Because they could never find harmony with each other, they’d both died, alone.

But somehow, someone had given them a second chance. And they weren’t going to waste it.

This tragedy would have a happy ending.

They stayed in the clearing with the flecks of gold for a long time before Criss decided he wanted to head home. And so they walked back along the path to the cave hand in hand, a trail of gold following them through the lightening dark.

#roleslaying with roman #criss and cross #rswr criss #rswr cross #roleslaying week 2023

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