"I have places to go."
Frisk said it quickly, with nonchalance, turning her head towards the sunset as if none of the conversation had occurred. Toriel fell silent, and the child could easily tell she recognized the reluctance in her voice - still, she chose not to argue or press the issue further. Frisk took one quick glance at her face - soft and melancholy, with tired features. Not too different from the first time they'd been separated for good.
Frisk knew they'd inevitably stay in touch with her friends - they would stand out very easily amongst a sea of individuals unused to a change of pace in their boring lives. At the same time, it felt like they were severing what tied them to those creatures; the child had been among them for so long, anything else seemed like a new, intimidating discovery that they wouldn't embrace for all the world.
"Alright."
She offered Frisk her warmest smile, taking a small, hesitant step backwards, as if hoping the other would have a change of mind, which was a tempting fate. Frisk moved a lock of brown hair away from their face, shrinking in the silence, trying to locate stolen words. "I'll see you around."
The child observed Toriel's slow, steady movements, and her figure gradually shrunk in the distance.
They had been embraced back into a stranger's home with a torrent of tears.
She did not recognize the scent of the building, her own, spacey room, and most definitely not the eyes of brown that were locked onto her for as long as they were in the same room. It was a lone figure, slim, pale, with dark strands framing her face, and an expression of confusion when Frisk addressed her as 'Miss'. There were far more photos, far more strangers pestering her than necessary, and Frisk merely hid her face every time. At some point, her guardian seemed to take the hint and started continuously shooing them away, though they came back, trying to drain the woman of details from her point of view, even though the most she knew was that she'd lost something and gotten it back, by all means.
The house was uncomfortably large, with more rooms than either of them knew what to do with. One of them was hers, stuffed with items she did not care for, a bed, and many, many paintings. She stayed cooped up in it for days, re-acquainting herself with the sheets, the pillows, the mattress, the discarded notebook of emotions she had long forgotten, and grudgingly allowed entrance to the woman who insisted that she would be addressed as 'mom'. Her mother never stayed for long, forever busy with nothing Frisk wanted to know about, although she had stayed around for the first couple of weeks, weeping over her worries and expressing how glad she was to have her little girl back. Frisk sensed uncertainty, but reluctantly lied back.
She slipped out of bed every day, navigating through a labyrinth and locating a kitchen space, where she helped herself to whatever was available- and then went right back into the room. It was more than enough for her to entertain herself with filling up the notebook to its end with adventures, as she tried to desperately cling onto every single image that remained from the underground. She was aware that the privacy of said notebook had been breached far prior to her arrival, and quietly tucked it far under the bed every night.
It took a little while more before she started occupying the living room, reading the magazines that had been piled up on one of the tables and changing the channels on their TV. She frequently watched the news - they talked of her a couple of times, addressing my mysterious disappearance and the coincidental appearance of an alarming number of monsters from a supposedly sealed place. There were a few reports of her friends, still establishing themselves within the community with wide smiles, and she eagerly watched every each one of them.
"Not those freaks again."
Frisk grew tense - she eyed her mother sprawling on the couch beside her, grimacing in disgust at the images that flashed on the TV. "Ech, monsters. I don't know why they haven't massacred them all yet. They're only trouble." Frisk winced, silently biting on her lip. "Why not just watch a documentary or one of those stupid cartoons instead? At least they don't condone bullcrap like this does."
Frisk obediently pressed a button on the remote, watching her mother's expression shift from one of resentment to a more relaxed one, and sunk down a little, unfocused. The other carefully lifted her up on her lap - she was still pitifully small for her age - and only softened her grip when she fell asleep, allowing Frisk to sneak out, still suffering from the stiffness.
She did not remember that person as nice.
Frisk longed to leave again - there was still a lingering feeling of estrangement from a world she hadn't known for a while, but it was still a world. She'd lost her phone on the way out - a pity, as it would have been an interesting attraction - and, after a little while, begged her mother for a new one, only to be met with skepticism.
"Yeah? To call whom? Your friends? I haven't ever seen you make any, my dear."
Swallowing her pride, Frisk insisted. Her guardian merely raised her eyebrow, but did not object further, and provided her with one the very next day.
She dialed the first number that popped into her mind, breath hitched as she held up the device to her ear. It rang, and it rang, until a figure picked it up, sleepily (and not so nicely) demanding to know who was bothering them at such an inconvenient time. (It was noon.)
Frisk grinned from ear to ear at the familiar tone.
"It's me. We haven't talked in a while, have we?"