They awoke to pain, which meant one of two things: they were either in hell, or alive. Assuming the worst, they decided to perceive themself as still being alive until proven otherwise. Keeping their eyes shut tight, they mentally counted their injuries.
Right arm – probably broken. Ankles – sprained, at the least. And there were one, two, three, four likely scratches. Oh, and their nose seemed to be hurt, but at least it wasn't bleeding.
When they heard a noise, they didn't move. When they felt something touch their arm, they couldn't stay still; they jumped backwards with a pained yelp. Yeah, no, the left ankle was definitely broken. They were only able to move a foot away before they collapsed.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
They opened their eyes and peered up at the person who'd touched them through their bangs. When they saw that it wasn't a person, they let out a sigh of relief; they were probably dead, because hell likely had goat monsters, which is what the figure clearly was. Only problem being, in hell, they didn't assume that people often greeted the newly-dead with a big smile and a, "Howdy!"
When the monster asked for their name, they replied, "Chara."
Its name was Asriel.
When Asriel asked if they were a boy or a girl, the response was ingrained enough that they said, "Girl," without even realizing it.
Asriel's parents came across the scene their son talking to a half-dead human. They took it in stride and invited the human to stay at their home.
The human said, "Yes," and they didn't say anything else for a long time.
Asriel wasn't one for silence, they noticed. As they walked away from the place where they'd failed to die, Chara ate a third granola bar and Asriel rubbed the back of his neck. "What's your favorite color?" he eventually asked.
Chara shrugged.
"Do you like pink?"
They shrugged.
"Blue?"
Shrug.
"I like purple!"
Chara didn't respond.
Asriel let the conversation end.
They blinked at the closet full of clothes. Toriel had offered them dresses and skirts, shorts and pants, sweaters and shirts. They didn't want to make her mad, so they said yes to everything. They rotated through an easy schedule. Sundays, dresses. Mondays, shirt and shorts. Tuesdays, shirt and pants. Wednesdays, shirt and skirt. Thursdays, sweater and pants. Fridays, sweater and shorts. Saturdays, sweater and skirt. Easy.
Their hair grew out longer because they didn't want to ask Toriel or Asgore to cut it.
Asriel said that they were like a sister to him. Asgore said that he'd always wanted a daughter. Toriel simply offered them more clothes, seeing how much they liked the ones they'd already been given.
Thank you. Nod. Thank you.
They didn't sleep well at night. They would always end up climbing out of bed and wandering around. When they would make their way into the kitchen, they would climb onto the counter to look at the knives that Toriel used to cook. She kept them high, out of reach of the children, but that didn't stop them from opening the cabinet and looking at the knives. Not touching, just looking.
They would sigh, close the cabinet, and go back to bed.
They had overheard Asriel speaking to his parents.
"Is it normal for humans, for her to act like that? How come she doesn't smile?"
Toriel said, "I cannot say for certain, my child. Give her time. Do not abandon her simply because of how she expresses herself."
"I wouldn't do that!" Asriel protested. "I like her! I just want her to be happy. How can I make her happy?"
"There is not much that you can do," Asgore said. "Be her friend. A small act can make a big difference."
They snuck back to bed to finish their nap. They thought about the scars on the inside of their thighs. Gardening knives are easier to steal than kitchen knives. They thought about cutting off their hair with the knife that slept under their pillow.
They stayed awake, unmoving, staring at the wall for what seemed an eternity before they heard Toriel call out, "Breakfast!"
Asriel smiled at them from across the table.
They tried to smile back. They weren't good at it.
Asriel didn't care.
They were having a bad day. A bad, bad, really bad day. They wanted to rip off their cheeks. They wanted to snap their arms in half. They wanted to break their neck.
They cut off their hair with a gardening knife at three in the morning.
Toriel found them sobbing in the hallway four hours later. She picked them up, asked them what was wrong, tried to help; Toriel was always trying to help. Toriel noticed the dirty knife, the haphazardly cut hair, the scratch-lined neck, and the way that Chara crossed their arms protectively around their chest. She asked them what was wrong.
They said, "Me."
Toriel disagreed.
Normal. Not weird. Valid. Maybe if they said it enough times, it would be true.
Asriel had the most difficulty at first. He always corrected himself, but Chara couldn't help but feel nauseous anytime he called them his sister.
Asriel had trouble until the time when he saw Chara physically flinch when he called them a "she." He cried. He didn't say it wrong again.
Toriel asked them if they wanted her to get rid of the dresses and skirts. Their hesitance said, "Yes."
Toriel offered to trim their hair when it started getting long again.
They breathed out, somehow feeling like they'd been holding their breath since they'd fallen down. And for once, Chara genuinely smiled. "Thank you," they said, and meant it.