Helloooo! Welcome to the direct sequel to Delilah! Yes, that means if you're reading this, you've missed an incredibly important fic in this series and should go back to read it if you plan on reading this one. Otherwise, you will be up Confusion River without a paddle. I never planned on making more, but you guys keep on believing in me and that makes me write so much more. That being said, if you read Delilah and liked it as it ended, skip this, because I add waaaaay more to the story. That's all I've to say for now!
Like Delilah, this fic's title and chapter names come from a song, this time by The Tiny of the same name. It's a gorgeous song, one I highly recommend listening to.
Okay bye!
Chapter One: Carry
Sometimes, at night, Frisk could hear Asriel crying. At first, when they both came home, Asriel had trouble sleeping, usually pulling all-nighters and pacing alone in the basement, lost in thoughts. Eventually, once Frisk was well enough to return to both of her jobs part-time, Asriel expressed interest in going with her to both.
"But..." Frisk gazed at him, noticing how depressed he seemed, watching her pack for school that she would resume the next day. "Asriel, I'm a teacher's aide. Why would an aide need an aide?" She had hoped to make him at least smile, but his eyes went dark, and he frowned, looking away.
"Can't... can't I come with you anyway?" he wondered. That's when Frisk understood; he wanted to go because he was lonely. He was afraid of having the house to himself. He had spent much of his time taking care of Frisk during her recovery, and though he had done a good job, he wished she could still stay home, anyway.
"I'll ask Mama, okay?" she promised, and did. Toriel was confused, until Frisk admitted her thoughts on the matter. Then Toriel became thoughtful. "Well, I don't need two aides. But Gorey... he could use one."
Asgore was delighted by the idea, the irony of Asriel working in landscaping completely lost on both him and Toriel. Frisk was afraid Asriel wouldn't take the offer, but he surprised her by doing not only that, but also discovering how much he, too, was fond of it, just like Asgore. In the long run, it made everyone happy. (Well, except Papyrus, because Asriel refused to give his hedge-selves more teeth.)
It seemed that with a new schedule and distractions, Asriel was able to get sleep regularly. But then Frisk heard him having nightmares, or crying himself to sleep, and she suddenly understood the real reason for his insomnia: he didn't want to dream. Usually, if she heard him first, she'd leave him alone. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be welcome comforting him, but she knew Toriel was, and she always waited until she heard Toriel knock at his door before falling back asleep.
But one night, Frisk heard him crying, and she was on her feet and out the door at once. For whatever reason, her mind decided that she had to do something, and before Asriel was found by a parent. She could hear him when she got to the door, and she knocked on it lightly before whispering his name. The sounds stopped at once, and she heard him get up and walk to the door.
He opened, already whispering, "Mom, it's okay," his expression irritated. However, once he realised it was Frisk, his expression changed immediately, to one of immense relief. "Frisk! Come in!" And she did, shutting the door gently behind her.
"Listen-," he began, but she shut him up at once with a hug. His face fell at once, unable to maintain it at this, and he buried his face into her shoulder like he always did at moments like this, holding onto her close and beginning to cry again.
Frisk knew he needed her for this. Over the past few weeks since her birthday (or "Fallday", as Asgore called it), everyone had had to adjust to him, and Asriel knew he was a rather cumbersome load to deal with. Whenever his parents asked after him, or tried to comfort him, all he could feel was guilt, and he therefore tried to keep it all in to spare them.
But Frisk... Asriel never lied to Frisk. Not anymore. He never wanted to lie to her again; eight years was more than enough. So when she offered comfort, advice, or even just a smile, he knew he could be honest with her. He didn't feel as much of a burden with her, though he could only explain his side. He had no idea why Frisk, after all that he had done, would ever want to care enough to do any of these things, but she did, and without judgement or hesitation, or even a word if she knew he didn't want them.
Frisk rubbed his back gently, like she found herself doing more often, now. He never hesitated with her, though she knew he did with their parents. She didn't know why, but she would always make sure to be there for him. Why else had she done all that she did, risked all that she had, to get him back?
"It's okay, Asriel," Frisk whispered gently. "You're safe, okay? Everything is fine."
Asriel nodded, shutting his eyes right. He sniffled a bit, the worst of his tears now spent, but he didn't let go, so she stayed right where she was. "I'm... so happy you're here, Frisk," he admitted. "I hate bothering Mom."
"You know she loves you, and loves every moment she spends with you," Frisk corrected, a touch sharp. "If anything, she looks forward to it."
He pulled away a bit, making a face. "Frisk, that was a stupid thing to say."
She grinned in reply, her eyes dancing. "You know it's true, and that's why you're cranky."
"Whatever," he replied, finally smiling, unable to help it. They both adored Toriel, but they also knew how much she fussed - and seemed to enjoy fussing - especially over Asriel.
Frisk gave him a final squeeze before she let him go. Asriel felt his smile drop a bit from this, but Frisk didn't see it; her eyes were on his computer. "Why?" she asked flatly, her finger pointing to the screen.
Asriel blushed and scratched at his cheek, looking away, though he couldn't help a slight sniffle, still upset. Now she knew why. On the screen was UnderNet, and in his newly made profile, he had noticed comments. About him, and to him, most of them not nice. He had spent hours making the profile, and within its first hour, there were the comments. And he kept refreshing, getting more and more upset as the stack of comments grew, unable to stay away despite logic telling him to do so.
"For the love of pie, Asriel! No wonder you can't sleep!" Frisk cried, sitting down at his desk at once. She signed him out and signed in as herself before he could stop her. However, instead of reporting the abuse like he had expected, she merely replied to it:
"Please stop abusing Asriel. He hasn't earned it, but I know who has. Direct all of this hate to sans, please, as he's the one who's to blame for the bulk of the mess. He was the one who killed me, after all. So if I see another mean comment here again, I'm going to be angry.
Love, Frisk Dreemurr"
The whole time, Asriel had tried to wrestle control from her, but she just batted his hands away easily. Once she had it posted, she grinned and finally gave up the chair with a mock-bow. He sighed this time, sitting back down and signing back in as himself - only to notice a change. The comments became apologetic - almost nice. In shock, he saw that not a lot of people knew the whole story - especially the humans, the meanest of the commenters - but once they did, they were on his side, and sorry.
"I knew it," Frisk said smugly, arms crossed and grinning happily.
"I can fight my own battles, Frisk," he answered grumpily.
"Yet you choose not to," she replied. "You just keep wearing your hairshirt in silence.
Asriel scrunched up his face at that. "What does that even mean?"
Frisk rolled her eyes. "People - humans - used to wear shirts with scratchy hair on the inside in order to chafe their skin. They saw it as a form of self-denial, of self-penance. Sound familiar?" She narrowed her eyes now. "You're lucky Mama didn't come in. If she had seen that, she would have either stayed up all night replying to everyone or erased it."
Asriel knew it was true, but it was no less frustrating. "I'm not... wearing a hairshirt," he answered, now looking away.
"No, you're wearing three, Mr F5," she replied.
He scowled. "Frisky."
She scowled back. "Don't do that," she warned. "I'll leave!"
"I didn't ask you to come here," he answered without thinking, meaning the exact opposite. He was so used to saying that in front of her that it just came out.
Any person not used to this likely would have left, but Frisk knew him well - maybe even more when he got embarrassed or grumpy, like now - and thus stayed right where she was. Instead, she added, "Fourth hairshirt."
Asriel sighed, sagging in his seat a little, and she couldn't help it; she patted his shoulder, and in reply, he reached up and held her hand to him, keeping it placed on his shoulder.
"You're right," he finally admitted, surprising her. "I was."
"I do know some things, Asriel. I am both an ambassador and a politician's daughter."
"Oh, like Dad cares about politics nowadays!" Asriel snorted. "He barely did when I was a kid."
"Well, maybe I sort of forced him to care?" Frisk offered with a shrug. "I dunno. But he really likes them, at least human politics. He says they make him laugh." She paused. "That... may not have been a compliment."
Asriel burst into laughter at that, unable to swallow the bubble of giggles like he usually could anything else. It wasn't even that funny, but it was just nice to be able to care, for once. He couldn't care as Flowey, not even a little; he had been numb to everything, and yet everything hurt him like the sharpest of knives. It was only with lies and anger that he could move away from that pain. Now, however, he didn't have to do that. If anything, he probably should have tried harder not to do it.
Frisk squeezed his shoulder, and in reply he squeezed her hand, looking up at her with a smile. "Now," she said, "can you please turn that off and go to sleep?"
His smile vanished. "I don't know if I can get to sleep tonight," he admitted reluctantly.
"Okay." She grabbed his hand between. both of her own and pulled him to his feet. He didn't put up a fight; he never did with her anymore. "Let's stay up," she then added, surprising him. "We'll watch a bad movie or two in the basement and have a blast."
"Wait, but..." He hesitated, not wanting to say it but also knowing he had to. "There's work tomorrow. For both of us."
"Oh, who cares, Asriel?" was her reply, a trace dry. "If we're sleepy tomorrow, then we are. We can nap during breaks. C'mon, silly." She tugged on his hand and pulled him out of the room, before practically dragging him to the basement. He didn't mean to put up a fight, but he was, anyway.
Fifth hairshirt.
Once he was sitting down on the couch in front of a cheap TV, Frisk sat down beside him with a stack of movies for them both to pick through - and laughing at his sarcasm when she offered her choices, he felt so much better. Almost as if he were literally lighter, as if he had no worries beyond everyday concerns. That was a nice feeling.
When they settled on three movies, Frisk put their first choice in and jumped on the couch beside him, holding the remote. Her eyes were already on the screen, looking excited; she was blushing a little, and her eyes shone. He found himself blushing a bit in response, but managed to hide it from her, turning his gaze to the TV as well.
She was blushing, but she didn't know why. All she knew was that Asriel was cheering up, enough to smile and joke around with her - and it always made her heart race and her blood feel warm. She figured it was because she was still learning to accept Asriel as he was now - which was actually true, and a big part of it - but the part she chose to ignore was the main reason.
Frisk was always practical, even when the situation practically begs for recklessness. Instead of meeting her issues face-to-face, she faced the TV, pushing that pile of impractical thoughts away, focussing on the screen instead.
Unsurprisingly, Frisk was the one who dropped into sleep first, curled up against the armrest of her side of the couch, the movie barely into its second act. Asriel didn't realise it until the middle, and he turned down the volume immediately, even though she didn't seem affected by it. He tried to keep watching for a bit longer, but kept getting distracted - through no fault of Frisk's. Rather, he kept looking at her to make sure she was sleeping safely, or was comfortable, or cold, or any other excuse he could think of. She was fine every time he checked, and every time he could confirm that, he felt better, enough to finally drift off on his side of the couch, barely into the third act.
He slept heavy, probably the best sleep he'd ever had in his life.
Asgore was frozen in place, his arms full of laundry basket, but his eyes even fuller, unable to help it. He stared from his place at the bottom of the basement stairs, having just found his two children on the TV couch, both sleeping so heavily they didn't even notice him. Both children, he saw; Asriel was now curled up at Frisk's feet, not touching her save a hand on one of her ankles; one of her hands was resting on the top of his head, her fingers twined into his white hair. Asgore hadn't seen his son sleep this sound since he was just a toddler, nor had he ever seen Frisk smile in her sleep before.
It took him a great deal of time to snap out of it, especially since he knew he should get them both up soon to start their day. He crept to the laundry room and put his basketful to wash, then hurriedly went back upstairs.
Toriel was already rushing to join him, looking panicked. "Gorey-!"
"Downstairs," he said at once. He knew what she was scared about, proven when the moment he said it, she calmed down and put a hand to her chest. He looked right into her eyes and added, "Sleeping downstairs."
Toriel blinked. "Asriel is sleeping?" she echoed. "Our Asriel? Real sleep?"
Asgore nodded. "Real sleep. He didn't even hear me put the laundry on."
"Oh, my poor boy," she whispered. "And Frisk?"
"Same, but..." He hesitated.
"But?" Toriel pressed, confused.
"Tori..." He looked torn, and she placed a hand to his cheek, patiently waiting with a kind smile. "You were right," he concluded finally, "About him."
Her face fell, her eyes sad immediately. "Damn," she murmured, looking down at the floor.
"Can you blame him, though?"
"No," she agreed. "But I just wish it were easier."
"Things are getting easier," Asgore protested, but Toriel shook her head.
"I meant for him," she explained. "Not just in the world, but in his world."
Asgore was confused, but she didn't elaborate or explain. She didn't know how to yet. "Do we wake them?" he wondered.
"No," she said softly, her hand limps at her sides. "We let then sleep. They both need it, and we can do without them for one day, I'm sure. Can we not?"
Asgore nodded. "We should leave a note."
"Good idea." She paused. "Did you say you put the laundry on, Gorey?"
He smiled. "I did."
She hugged him. "Thank you." She was sincere, and he hugged her back, blushing. "It's just laundry," he admitted.
Toriel didn't say anything. She was crying into his shoulder. With a heavy heart, he held her closer, his smile vanishing, but soon he found himself unable to hold back tears of his own.
The truth usually hurts badly, the more important the worse it wounds - especially if you refuse to see it coming.