The water starts to boil, sending a piercing whine through the air. Asgore sets his hands on the table, standing up and pushing the simple wooden chair back. "Would you like some more tea, Frisk?"
Frisk nods their head yes. "Please," they add a little too late to sound natural. They unwrap their hands from the now cold mug, wishing they had said no instead. More tea meant more conversation. It was a skill Frisk was still adapting to, still learning to be comfortable with. Of course, monsters were easy to talk to. Asgore especially so. Not like most of the humans they'd grown up with.
"Frisk? Would you like some sugar?" Asgore's offering Frisk the sugar shaker, snapping the human out of their thoughts. Frisk hadn't realized he'd already poured the tea. They still zone out very easily.
"Um. No, thanks." Frisk still had a hard time saying yes to anything that might vaguely resemble a treat. The guilt had apparently made a home in Frisk's heart for good. Suddenly, it felt as if someone had grabbed onto their heart, squeezing it till it ached. Tears were forming in Frisks's eyes, for no apparent reason.
Asgore stops mid-sip, frowning and setting his teacup down a little too hard. The tea sloshes violently to one side, threatening to spill. "Frisk? Are you alright?" His voice oozes with concern, making Frisk feel even more stupid and guilty.
Frisk nods, sniffing and using a sleeve to blot at the tears. "Sorry," they say. "I'm. I'm still not used to it."
Asgore's frown deepens. "Not used to what?"
Frisk fights back a sob, looking down at the pine table as if it were the most important thing in the universe. "People being nice to me." There's a pause, and Frisk fights to get the words out. "Before - before I fell down mount Ebott, my family... my human family wasn't very nice to me. They told me I was stupid, and a waste of space, and a 'fucked up weirdo' and..." They trail off, tears overcoming the ability to speak. They don't try to stop the sobs now. It's so stupid, and Frisk knows it's stupid, but they can't stop.
Asgore doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches out and places a giant paw over the human's hands, dwarfing them easily. He's probably trying to make eye contact, but Frisk's head stays downcast, bangs brushing against their nose. "You seem normal enough to me. I don't see anything 'freakish' about you."
"That's not true," they say quietly. "Humans... humans aren't supposed to... humans aren't supposed to be like me. They. They aren't supposed to not want to be a boy or a girl. It's not normal. They were right, I am a weirdo, for a human."
The tea has probably grown cold now. There's another pang of guilt for wasting Asgore's tea.
Asgore's hands are still over Frisks's, hot and fuzzy and heavy. The weight of them is reassuring, but even without looking up Frisk can tell his eyes are sad.
"Frisk, there's nothing wrong with- there's nothing wrong with being something different. In fact, there are a lot of monsters who are just like you." His words are measured, slow, but still steady. Frisk wriggles their hands out from under his. They shouldn't be allowed comfort. They're too messed up.
"Do monsters do this?" Frisk is still looking at the table, but rests their left elbow on the table, right hand pulling the sleeve down. They haven't rolled that sleeve up in a long, long time. They're trembling now, just slightly - they haven't told anyone after the first time. A hard slap across the face had been their reward for bringing it up.
There's a long, horrible pause, and it leaves Frisk bracing themselves for another slap, even though they know Asgore would never hurt them. They haven't been hit in a long time, but it still feels like it's a only matter of time before it happens again. But instead there's just a sigh. A low, defeated sigh from across the table.
"I know lengthy conversations are difficult for you," there's another pause, furry hands brushing against their exposed arm, and Frisk cringes down again, just in case, "but if you want to talk about it, I'm always willing to listen."
It takes a moment for Frisk to realize the goat had only been rolling their sleeve back down. There's tears forming, but for a different reason now.
They nod. "I... I think I'd like that."