The air was cold, temperature having dropped close to -20°C overnight. The snowdrift was shining in all its glory, making Cross sick to his stomach. How could something so beautiful remind him of something so terrifying?

The snow crunched under his every step. His fear was coming back. It had been easier for a few days since the snow had almost fully melted after the first fall, but now the grounds had been covered under a snow blanket again.

Chara had stayed behind in the newcomers tent, leaving Cross alone with their shared fear. They just couldn't take it. They had been so young and yet their death had been so brutal.

"Did someone pee in your cereal Criss-Cross? Or what's got you looking like that?"

Cross almost flinched back as Ink suddenly was right in his face. He had been too distracted to notice the artist come from somewhere.

"Stars Ink! I didn't see you coming!" he exclaimed, eye sockets wide. The artist just tilted his head, curious.

"You seem awfully distracted today. Do you have fever? That's pretty common during this time of the year," Ink rambled, reaching his hand towards Cross forehead to check his temperature.

"Oh, don't worry about me." Ink tilted his head again, this time turning to look at Cross. "I just don't really like the snowy weather, that's all," the monochrome skeleton lied to him, carefully brushing the hand from his face.

"You don't like snow?" Ink asked. His eye lights flashed curiosity. "What is it that you don't like about it?" he bombed the second question before Cross couldn't even process the first one.

Cross hesitate. He took a look around. In his mind the drift coloured red – as it had done back then. Quickly he blinked the image away, shaking his skull.

"It just... Brings back some nasty memories.." he decided to answer to the artist, hoping it would stop him from asking questions about it.

"Oh." Ink's eye lights change to exclamation marks instead of question marks. He seems to understand. "Did you perhaps come here to escape from something?" the artist inquired, more curiosity flashing in his eye lights.

"I.." Cross paused to think. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable sharing that information.

Ink was quick to continue before Cross could finish thinking. He said: "It's pretty common here. Some of us came here looking for a better job than whatever we got after graduating from school, thinking a circus could be more fun than a grocery store. But there are also many who choose to come here for a brand new start, escaping from their past." Cross wasn't sure if Ink noticed how much he was rambling away. Knowing that the artist could be a bit oblivious, he had a feeling that the answer was no.

"For example," – Ink didn't manage to notice his mistake early enough – "Lust came here to escape from being a prostitute, but Epic on the other hand just wanted a more exciting job than..." – he began to trail off as he finally came to the realisation – "a cashier..."

"I know.." Cross whispered. He felt as if he was choking, barely managing to breath. He had known about Epic, Killer had told him, yet now he had even more confirmation.

"I wasn't supposed to say that.." Ink mumbled, eye lights wide. "But how can you know that.? You don't know Epic, do you.?" he breathed out, voice no louder than a whisper. Cross reaction had shocked him a bit.

"I know him. He's my best friend," Cross answered. 'I knew him. He was my best friend,' he should have said instead, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't want to admit it out loud. He didn't want to accept that Epic was dead – despite Killer having told him that.

"Oh.. You already know what happened to him, don't you.?" Ink inquired hesitatedly. He couldn't meet Cross eye lights, but that was mutual – Cross couldn't look at him either.

"Killer told me.." It was all Cross could answer. His throat felt tight and tears burned the corners of his eye sockets. He hated showing weakness like this, but apparently this week wasn't going to be his weak. The bottle where he had stored all his emotions must have cracked and now all the emotions were leaking out from the crack.

Could it have something to do with the Ringmaster and finally breaking his promise the worst way possible?

"Oh.."

"I... I'll just.. Go.." Cross mumbled before storming off. He didn't want to break down in front of Ink, or anyone else, so he rushed back to the newcomers tent.

"Cross, wait!" Ink tried to call after him, but his calls went to deaf ears. The monochrome skeleton did not look back.

-----

     "So.. Epic really is dead, isn't he.?" Chara frowned, starting at the floor. They had known the truth as well, yet they too were shocked to finally admit it out loud. "Did Ink actually confirm that?" they asked, despaired to know the truth.

Cross shook his skull. He refused to meet their eyes. The look on their face was so pitiful – his own wasn't any better either. "He didn't say it.. But his reactions told more than a thousand words could," he whispered, Ink's shocked face flashing in his memories.

"Killer wasn't lying then.." Chara whispered. Cross didn't have to look up to know that they were close to tears as well.

"I really wished he had just been lying.. I really did.. I didn't want to believe him.. But now... After Ink confirming it.. I think I have to accept it.." Purple tears dropped onto the bedsheets, giving them a whole new colour.

"Well... Do you.." Chara stopped to hesitate. They were going down a dangerous path with what they had in mind. "Do you think that he is dead as well.?"

Cross' breath hitched. He spun his skull to look at Chara, who avoided his gaze. "No..." Cross whimpered, shaking his skull. "He's still alive..! He has to be..! He's just in the travelling group..! The one that Killer mentioned. The one that travels around, performing in different cities and comes back in the spring. He must be there.! It would make sense, wouldn't it.?" It was all an excuse. He didn't know if it was true or not, but that's what he believed, and that's what he would believe for as long as he could.

"I can't argue with you," Chara admitted. They had to admit that the other had a point, and it didn't sound completely ridiculous. It could actually be the truth. They just had to wait until spring to confirm it. It gave them both a bit of hope. Maybe he would finally return.

-----

     "What's got ya lookin' like that?" Killer asked, wrapping his arms around Ink from behind after creeping up to the artist he had spotted all alone outside.

"I just accidentally told Cross about Epic.. At first I didn't think it was that bad, but then I saw his face.. He told me that Epic was his best friend.." Ink explained, feeling Killer stiff around him. "Then he ran off before I could say anything else.. I wonder how he's doing.." Worry sparked in his eyes lights, along with guilt.

"Epic? I told Crossy 'bout him before, but he didn't react to it much. Didn't think much of it." Killer raised a browbone, trying to recall Cross' reaction. He placed his chin on Ink's shoulder, leaning into the artist.

"I feel bad for him. I don't know why he came here, but now he had to find out that this is where his best friend died," Ink sighed, still glancing to the direction Cross had run off to.

"Well, 's better to find out early on how things are 'ere. We all hafta fight to survive," Killer mumbled. The look in his face was cold.

Ink looked down, speechless. He understood that Killer was referring to the Ringmaster and his rules. Finally he pushed himself into Killer's arms, melting fully into the comforting touch.

"Hello there dear sirs! What a lovely snowy day we have here in the wonderful, yet horrifying circus today! I would like to very kindly remind you my very dear friends that the show must go on and there is no spare time for lovemaking breaks when the wonderful Ringmaster by himself is patrolling around these beautiful tents of ours."

Ink flinched away from Killer, but the latter didn't slip his arms off, keeping the two of them still connected. They both turned to look towards Ace, who was standing a few meter away, leaning against his staff.

"Didja see Nightmare nearby?" Killer asked, glancing around before returning back to the magician, who hummed.

"Our dearest Ringmaster was a few ticks of the clock ago near the prop tent. If I would to be either one of you dear sirs, I would be getting back to my assigned task. And that, of course, is what I shall be doing as well in a slow blink of an eye socket once I finish this wonderful conversation that we unimportant performers are having in this beutiful, snowy weather," they rambled confidently while walking closer to the two others.

"Thank you Ace, we'll get going," Ink told her, finally prying himself out of Killer's arms and rushing off. He didn't spare a single gaze towards the knife thrower, nor did he notice the lack of pockets in his trousers.

In silence Killer and Ace stared after him.

"Are you, my dear sir, fellow performer, sure that our forgetful artist is interested in you? Because from his ignorance I could perhaps happen to mention that maybe you have lost your chance." Ace turned to look at the knife thrower, tipping their head.

"'S not that simple," Killer huffed, crossing his arms. "I know he ain't meant for me, but we still have our own thing."

"As it is a very lovely snowy weather, I should run off to get my tasks done so that our lovely Ringmaster cannot blame me for not getting all that done in time. You and the forgetful artist's complicated relationship problems do not have anything to do with myself, and as for that very clear fact I will be leaving you here by yourself, not asking any more unwanted questions. We shall see each other again soon." And with that Ace was gone, having teleported away, leaving the knife thrower alone.

Killer sighed. He stuck his hands into his pockets – or rather: he would have stuck his hands into his pockets, if he had still had them

The string of curses that escaped his mouth was really unholy, but luckily no one was around to hear that.

-----

     Blue raised his gaze from work once he heard Ink enter the prop tent. He was quick to greet his friend before returning to the pile of different metals that he was trying to sort out.

"Is it cold outside?" he asked as the breeze that Ink had let in reached him, making him shiver. He had spent the night in the prop tent and hadn't stepped outside yet.

"Very," Ink hummed. He made his way back to his painting station where the knives he had been making were waiting.

"Did something happen? You sound a bit off," Blue pointed out, furrowing his browbones.

"It's nothing, don't worry," the artist assured him, yet he didn't turn around to face him. Instead, his eye lights shifted to a dusty toolbox in the corner. It had been left there to sit years ago and Ink didn't let anyone touch it. His memory could get shit sometimes, but he always remembered to stay away from the toolbox.

Blue didn't know who the toolbox had belonged to, nor what had their relationship with Ink been, but he had learnt that it meant the world to the artist.

"Are you sure?" he asked carefully. "You seem a bit distant. You can tell me anything! We're friends after all and that's what friends are for," he reminded.

Ink stopped for a moment. He glanced back at the toolbox before softening his gaze. "You're still a child Blue, you wouldn't understand about my teenage romances!" he joked.

Blue immediately brightened up. "Hey! I'm 16 just so you know, and you aren't even that much older than me!" He pretended to be hurt and offended.

"Well, just so you know: I was 16 back then. Five years ago." Ink tried to brush all his hesitance away. Maybe this was the right time to finally reveal his biggest secret to someone. He couldn't remember much, but this story was one that he would never forget.

"You're speaking as if you were an old man telling about his past love!" Blue couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you want to hear it or not?" Ink snapped back, playfully.

"Yes, go on," Blue hummed, curios. He knew that Ink had something going on with Dust, but the way he was speaking now was nothing compared to how he spoke of Dust. It was way more gentle, and longing.

"I met him when the circus was first hiring. I was 16, he almost 18, but still 17 when we met. I was tired of not being allowed to do what I wanted to with my art skills and he was tired of studying and working in a grocery store. We both stumbled into the circus at the same time, running into each other." The look in Ink's eye sockets was distant as he recalled the events. He had a longing smile on his teeth. "Trust me when I say that I will never forget that face, that smile, that attitude, that kindness. I don't know feelings, but what I felt back then was something new. He was so kind, a real gentleman, immediately helping me up from the ground. We walked into the circus together. He didn't know what he wanted to be, but I knew that I wanted to make something. I was assigned to this position: doing props and gadgets." – Ink chuckled – "And that dumb man followed me. He didn't know anything about making them. He just wanted to be with me – a complete stranger he had just met."

Blue didn't point out the glossines in Ink's eye sockets, but he did offer him a handkerchief. Ink in return didn't point out how the handkerchief was covered in oil and just took it.

"We worked together. I taught him everything. We were young and dumb, so of course we fell in love. We never told anyone about our relationship even though back then things here weren't as bad. He always accepted me, didn't force me to do anything. But at the same time I also got myself into another mess. It's not as important so I don't remember how it happened, but soon I was also in a sexual relationship with someone else. They didn't know about my relationship and I didn't want to accidentally reveal it so I accepted his offer. I told him about this and he accepted me. He loved me truly and saw through my cover. He truly understood me. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.. But well, as you can see: it's too late now. He was everything I had, and always will be. I love Dust, but he won't be the same. Our relationship is a bit rocky, as if we're just trying to look for what we had in the past, knowing that we'll never find it again. There's love, but it's a bit dull. We've both already used all our love on others and now we just kinda fill each other's missings."

Blue was speechless, tears rolling down his cheekbones. He had never thought that Ink would have such a tragic love story in his past.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you.." he managed to whisper.

Ink smiled sadly, "Don't worry about it. It's all in the past now. He's gone and the Ringmaster is the only one to blame. Happiness doesn't last long here, that's why you cherish and treasure every happy moment dearly." He wiped Blue's tears away with his thumb. "I miss him, I really do, and I will never forgive the Ringmaster for what he did. A lot of awful things happen, but remember: everything will always be fine, no matter how hard things seem. It's going to be alright," he quoted another old friend of his, trying to look strong for Blue, yet he still wasn't quite sure how to believe those words.

Words: 2786

[28.2.2023]

Half of this chapter was written at three in the morning when I was basically falling asleep. A few times I even questioned if I was writing or reading something– So this is probably a very good quality chapter.

I also saw Northern lights last night. They were really pretty. I'll leave here a picture I took.