Already Gone, an undertale fanfic

Already Gone

by Christopher R. Martin

This is my first contribution to the Undertale community. I love this game to death, and I hope I can do it due justice.

He dropped his shears down to the grass and wiped his brow clear of sweat. A breath of effort escaping his lungs and a smile writing itself on his fur-framed face, he marveled at his finest accomplishment yet: a monument to a certain, eccentric skeleton. Reclining on his side with one leg crossed over the other, just as he had asked of him.

Nothing like a bright, sunny day with chirping birds to work on his newest craft, he told himself, swelling with pride.

Beyond the structure of shrubbery, a child with the sleekest almond hair was making her way towards the school that was just on the other side in a carefree stride. As her feet carried her across the stone walkway, she laid her eyes upon the statue and grinned in such a manner that almost outdid his. Key word being 'almost'. She waved her hand at him, and he mirrored the greeting, eyes following the youth to her destination…

…where she was standing.

With open arms, she welcomed her student into the school, leading her past the door and awaiting the remainder of her class. Each child that arrived at her doorstep, she bade with nothing short of warmth. The same motherly warmth she held on to all these years. The same motherly warmth that had enraptured him and led to their eventual matrimony.

It never failed to compel him to give her one more look. To chance incurring her wrath and at least spare one more glance.

Five minutes to nine o'clock in the morning. She awaited the arrival of one more child. She stayed still. Her eyes soon met his. Her entire frame was locked in place, iced to the floor, her every muscle stiff as a board. Every bone in her body rigid. And he was equally unmoving, his paws clenching tightly, trembling where he stood.

Neither one of them could bring themselves to avert their eyes from the other. The best she could do was a slight downwards tilt of her head to hide her flushed grimace. She was his queen. He was once her king. They had learned to love long ago. Their love was pure. It was true. It was undeniable.

That was why a mere glimpse at him took an ounce of energy from her. To this day, he had wanted to be her king once again. But could it really last? She was bound by conviction, and him duty. She was decisive, whereas he was not.

Carefully she lifted her head up and leveled it with his. She beamed waveringly at him and nodded gingerly, hoping it would suffice. His sole answer was a meek wave of his paw. The thought of approaching her happened upon him, but he chose to stay where he was. She held on to her expression, a means to appear strong. But like every front that was put up, it ran the risk of crumbling to pieces.

For all the times she had brought up his weaknesses, she turned a blind eye to her own. He had been wrong all these years. But then again, who was she to judge? She, a coward in her own right. A coward whose fear, whose abandonment of her duty, led to loss after loss after loss. If their weakness could bring harm to human and monster alike, what chance would they themselves have to begin with?

The epiphany arising in the back of her mind, she swallowed and shut her eyes briefly. Keeping her tears in check became second nature to her over the years. She had grown to suppress them, not for her sake, but for those around her. For every child, every friend she has come to know.

As she held her chest and gathered her composure, one last child strode down the stone path and straight into her. Wrapping her arms around the little boy, she ushered him through the door and proceeded to enter herself, but not without a final look over her shoulder. At the boss monster she loved. At her dearest King Fluffybuns.

The door behind her closed, leaving him in a haze of contemplation. Once any last vestiges of her had left his sight, he retired to his lawn chair and reclined the backrest, planting his head on both his paws. His eyes flittered close, his breaths gentle as the morning breeze and becoming one with it. To his right was his granite table, and on top of it an old-fashioned radio, complete with an antenna, knobs, a speaker and a meter.

He turned one knob, shuffling between channels, majority of them playing haunting, spine-tingling melodies, before making his mind and stopping at a certain channel. The music that was playing had a powerful violin-based motif backed by an even more powerful drumbeat. But the song's musical presence belied something else.

Something pleasant yet bitter at the same time.

Reinforced by the voice that would soon make itself known.

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories, they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye

The lyrics had a paralyzing, entrancing effect on him. It was his turn to go stiff. He could not bring himself to change the station. Perhaps the timing of this song being played was purely coincidental.

Even with our fists held high, it
Never would have worked out right, yeah
We were never meant for do or die

He reclined on his chair and, like a sponge soaking up water, took in word after word, as well as the melody, which in a way was more haunting than the 'ghostly' music that preceded it.

I didn't want us to burn out, I
Didn't come here to hurt you now
I can't stop

Eyes closing in a quiver, he meditated on these particular lines. They had burned out, though. And the more he thought of it, his chances of rekindling that flame were next to none.

I want you to know that it doesn't matter
Where we take this road
Someone's gotta go
And I want you to know
You couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on
So I'm Already Gone

No. The flame still remained. It burned in him, still. It made every inch of him ache. Every muscle, every bone, every strand of fur on him, they tinged with pain. The pleasing kind of pain that he didn't want to heal for some time.

Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you'll find another
That doesn't always make you wanna cry

Funny. If he recalled correctly, he too had shed his own share of tears. Both for his dear little boy and for his beloved.

It started with a perfect kiss, then
We could feel the poison set in
Perfect couldn't keep this love alive

The singer just had to say the k word, did she? Regardless, she was correct, though. Every last kiss he shared with her was indescribable. Unforgettable. Perfect was the right word to describe it. But 'perfect' could only take them so far.

You know that I love you, so I
Love you enough to let you go

I want you to know that it doesn't matter
Where we take this road
Someone's gotta go
And I want you to know
You couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on
So I'm Already Gone

I'm Already Gone
I'm Already Gone
You can't make it feel right
When you know that it's wrong

I'm Already Gone
Already Gone
There's no moving on
So I'm Already Gone

Already Gone
Already Gone
Already Gone

Maybe it was better that way. To carry on with this life and keep the flame burning, as opposed to trying to ignite it only to have it extinguished. She was happy. As was he. She was contented. As was he.

Yes. This was the way to go. The only way.

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories, they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye

Or was it…? Unless of course…

I want you to know that it doesn't matter
Where we take this road
Someone's gotta go
And I want you to know
You couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on
So I'm Already Gone

I'm Already Gone
I'm Already Gone
You can't make it feel right
When you know that it's wrong

I'm Already Gone
Already Gone
There's no moving on
So I'm Already Gone

The song had reached its conclusion, giving way for the announcer to take up the reins.

One more breath left his lungs, and he rose from his chair, took the radio by its handle, and entered his house. He made his way to the kitchen. Stamped against a refrigerator by a magnet was a tiny leaf of paper with a list of items written on one side and a set of instructions on another.

Quickly he scoured for every item on the list and set them on the wooden countertop. The instructions were much simpler in theory than they were in practice, as he soon learned simply from setting up the pie tray and baking paper. Every ingredient, he handled delicately and with finesse. Every instruction he followed precisely, but only got into the swing of things about halfway into them.

Fortunately, the pieces came together seamlessly. The pie crust, the filling, the whipped cream, they were coming along fine. At least in his eyes, they did. It only took him decades, but the payoff was more than worth it.

Into the oven the concoction went. He gazed out the window overlooking the school entrance and the clock hanging over his head. Recess wasn't until another half hour. It was all the time he needed.

All the time it took to gather from the flower bed just in front of the hedge statue. He couldn't resist picking the most obvious choice. It was the best of the bunch.

The sound of a bell prompted him back into the kitchen, where he added the finishing touches. In a matter of fifteen minutes, another bell knelled. The school bell. Just like that, the children poured out of the door like a raging flood. She was not among the dense crowd. Good, he thought.

Seizing the opportunity, he took his creation from the oven, along with his flower, and carried them both to the school door step. With a smile on his face, he gave a single, slow caress on the pie crust and gently set it down on the ground – the second achievement of the day to be proud of. He was on a roll.

Inside, she sealed her book shut, stowing it away in the drawer of her desk. The presence of an odd-looking shadow by the door forced a quirked eyebrow from her and urged her to approach. If this was a practical joke on his part, he was going to pay dearly…

But a joke, it was not. Her eyes did not deceive her. It really was there. A perfect rendition of her famous recipe, right down to the whipped cream and cinnamon stick.

That wasn't even counting the golden flower casually lying next to the whipped cream. It could only mean one thing.

She searched for him, her gaze panning left and right like an unattended camera. There he was, trimming the hedges and giving her students an occasional pat on the head or even a playful high five. She could not help but crack the widest smile she had ever cracked at him.

As far as they were concerned, neither of them were going to leave their lives for a long time to come. Perhaps not ever. And she'd rather not have it any other way.

Slow and steady was the key. One of these days, that flame they used to have just might grow back to what it used to be.

One of these days…

Author's note:

1. Yes, I'm a very firm Asgoriel shipper.
2. This is an experiment of mine; it's my first full-fledged songfic. So it won't be my best work.
3. Don't forget to leave a review. Thank you.