cross sans

You were at home, and your friend Cross was visiting. You were lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling out of boredom, while Cross sat on a chair nearby reading a book. An idea struck you: to find Cross's weak spot through nicknames; you loved teasing him and picking on him.

— Cross... how do you like to be called?

Cross chuckled.
— In what sense?

You answered him:

— You know, affectionate names... for example... Crossie?
You looked at him intently, but he just smirked, so you started listing more:
— Cutie? Sunshine? Baby? Sweetie? Kitty?
He reacted the same way to all of them, becoming slightly embarrassed but still chuckling, but at the last nickname, he blushed a bit more and looked away, frowning.

— Shut up...

Cross and I are friends. When his universe passed away, I met him in the anti-void and took him for myself. Cross is very close to me. Cross is a head shorter than me. I don't know much about him, but overall, I know enough. We've been living together for almost a year now.