(Notes: Story contains; Found Family, Family of Choice, FireDad, Major Illness, Graphic Depiction of Illness., Platonic Relationships)
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Chapter 1: Spark
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Frisk's first memory was struggling to breathe. Every breath was too short, they couldn't get enough air and then they coughed deep and spasming, shaking every inch of their body until they collapsed in exhaustion. Sometimes the coughing helped and they could breathe a little better for a little while. Sometimes, it would only get worse and the cycle would start all over again. They remembered being sick for a long time. Then there were tubes down their throat, needles in their arm and beeping machines. That was the first time they went to the hospital.
They were almost eight now. It had been a nice day, warm and dry. On days like that they could breathe easier. On days like that they felt almost normal and liked to go outside and explore the mountain behind their apartment building. Frisk never knew when they would never be able to do something like that again and ended up hiking too far. They ducked into a cave to rest and instead plummeted down a hole and into a different world.
The new world they fell into was fascinating. Full of monsters and magic. They met Toriel and made their way through the Ruins, hopping through puzzles as they hummed softly to themselves. They really like Froggits, they were probably the cutest thing Frisk had ever seen, especially when they blushed after a compliment. They tried not to think about the chill that lingered on the stones and faint damp. Even as, in the back of their mind, a prickle of anxiety formed.
After an hour or so they found Toriel again. They felt excited and hopeful as they looked up at her tidy little house. Toriel gave them pie and a room to sleep in and said Frisk could live there and be happy. The food was plentiful and they didn't have to share the bed or any of the toys. Frisk felt guilty and selfish for staying but, it was so nice to have three meals a day.
They stayed. The next day they woke with a faint cough and an itchiness in their throat. It went away after they had a glass of water. So they ignored it. The next day Frisk woke up with a cough, barely an annoyance. Toriel gave then tea with lemon and honey. They did their best not to think about it. But, Frisks' illnesses were never mild, they hadn't been for as long as they could remember.
The cough got worse. Frisk could feel their lungs laboring, feel the pressure building and shortening their breath. Soon they had to stay in bed. Toriel got a doctor to come see them. Healing magic eased their pain but the sickness clung to their lungs, slowly filling them with liquid. Near the end their memories grew spotty, muddled by fever and coughing. They struggled to breathe, each breath growing shorter and more desperate until they passed out and never-
Frisk was standing in front Toriel's small house. They could breathe again and could smell warm butterscotch and cinnamon pie. At first, they had been certain it was a dream, a good dream, but a dream. Yet it felt real, they even pinched themselves to make sure. When they went inside, it was as if they had met Toriel for the first time all over again. They stayed the night again and woke with the same faint cough and itchiness.
They only had a few days.
Frisk asked to leave.
She didn't take it well. Frisk understood why, they had gotten to know her pretty well the last week and when they had been sick and ...dying, she had been very distraught. She had lost so many children and was certain Frisk would leave and be killed by Asgore. How could they tell her that staying with her would kill them too.
Toriel's fire hit them a few times, stinging straight into their soul but eventually she began to relent. Her attacks weakened and she stopped fighting. Frisk clung very tightly to that last hug, not certain if they'd ever see her again.
Leaving the Ruins, however, might have been a mistake.
Their first breath of icy air seared into Frisks lungs like fire and made them cough and cough until their stomach ached. They forced their breathing to slow, body shaking as the desire to cough tried to force its way out of their throat. Frisk pressed the sleeves of their shirt over their nose and mouth, covering the thin fabric with both hands and trying to warm the air before they had to breathe it in. Once the coughing calmed they cupped both hands over their face as they walked forward through the dark snowy landscape.
Meeting Sans was a treat. He startled them so badly they had another coughing fit that left their throat raw. Frisk liked Sans and Papyrus, the brothers were nice and funny but Frisk really could have done without all the puzzles and tricks slowing down their progress or all the horrible fights that they had to struggle through, trying desperately to dodge without breathing to hard. They could feel the sickness creeping deeper inside them, making their lungs feel like they were full of fog.
The small town of Snowdin was a welcome sight, they went to the inn and were immediately disappointed. Frisk had hoped to rest and get their strength up but found a cold unheated room with next door neighbors snoring so loudly it made their teeth vibrate. They went to the shop but it was only slightly warmer inside than outside. Frisk went to the next business along the way, Grillby's, some sort of small restaurant. It did not seem like a place for kids but Frisk's stubbornness flared up and they pushed the door open.
It was warm.
And dry.
Frisk quickly closed the door and hurried further inside. The dog guards were there as well as a smattering of other patrons who all turned and looked at Frisk curiously. Frisk didn't notice, they could only see the man made of fire standing behind the bar. They stumbled forward almost in a trance, the heat growing stronger as they got closer, pulling themselves onto the closest empty stool to the fire man. They held out their hand towards him, feeling tendrils of warmth slowly seeping into their fingertips.
"HhnHaha!" A purple duck laughed from the stool beside them, "Grillby isn't a campfire kid! You going to roast marshmallows over him or something?"
Frisk didn't care.
...They did care. Their eyes pricked with angry tears they tried to blink back because crying would make them cough. How could they know how it felt?! This horrible thick cloying feeling, like their chest was filled with spiderwebs and dust, tight and aching and inches away from hurting them.
Frisk slumped against the bar, arms and hands stretching out over the counter and into empty air. They rested their head on their arm, just trying to be ok. They just wanted to be ok.
There was a soft clink as Grillby sat the cup down that he had been cleaning and stepped over to them. Frisk wondered if they would have to order something. Or maybe he was mad because they had tried to warm their hands with him.
He looked at them through small, strangely fussy, rectangular glasses. He dressed like a fancy wine sommelier from a high class restaurant, all tidy suit and glasses, running a bar and grill that smelled like french fries. After a brief pause, as if he had come to a decision, he turned his hands over; one, then the other, and slid them beneath Frisks hands, close but not touching. The heat from the twisting red and orange flames that made up his hands made Frisk's fingers prickle as the heat seeped into them. They looked up at him, the white embers of his eyes the only feature on his face.
He looked at them like he was a asking permission do something.
Frisk didn't care what it was, they nodded.
He took their hands in his, holding them loosely. Frisk watched with fascination, Grillby felt hot to but did not burn them. The heat from his hands prickled across their palms and slowly spread up their arms, sinking into their chest and filling them with gentle intense warmth. It was like sitting in a hot bath but better. The tightness in their chest began to ease. When they breathed out it was easy and smooth and every breath that followed was a little deeper, a little easier.
Tears pooled in their eyes. Habit, more than anything, made Frisk stifle themselves so they wouldn't sob. They blinked back the tears and took a deep breath, feeling it all the way to their stomach.
They smiled up at Grillby so wide their eyes blurred, and mouthed a silent thank you.
He nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
It was a little strange to be holding hands with a monster made of fire they had just met but they didn't care. They rested their head on their arm again, letting their eyes drift shut as they just breathed.
…...
A hand tapped Frisk's shoulder and they startled up. They winced, their shoulders and neck sore, and their butt numb from sitting on a stool too long. They followed the hand that had tapped and found Grillby gazing down at them.
He gave a slight nod to the restaurant in general.
Frisk followed his nod. The room was empty, tables had been wiped down and the chairs had been put up.
They stood up hurriedly, waving their hands apologetically, backing towards the door.
He motioned for them to wait.
Frisk stopped.
He paused briefly as if debating something then nodded to himself and gestured for Frisk to follow him. Grillby walked through the back door, leaving it open for them.
Frisk jumped and hurried after him. The back door lead to a long narrow hallway, the end of which was an emergency exit. On the right of the hallway were two doors. Grillby passed the first and went to the second, opening it with a soft click and stepping inside. When Frisk didn't immediately follow, his hand stretched out and gestured for them to come.
Frisk walked cautiously to the open door, not sure what to expect. They certainly weren't expecting a small apartment, similar to a college flat. There was a couch against the wall just inside the door, across from a dusty tv. There was a bed on the far wall, a small twin, neatly made. The tv stand had a few books and vhs tapes on the shelf, all as dusty as the tv. There was a small bedside table, piled high with library books. The only ones Frisk could make out were what looked like a cookbook and guide for making cocktails. The closet seemed to be a flimsy, rolling clothes rack pushed against the wall, hanging with three suits identical to the one Grillby was wearing now. Aside from a neat stack of cardboard boxes in the corner, the room was uncluttered and felt barely used. It was a room where someone slept, not lived.
He gestured to the couch and tilted his head slightly.
Frisk looked at the couch. It seemed like he was willing to let them sleep there for the night. They felt a surge of relief that, for the first time since they fell, they would be able to sleep somewhere dry as well as warm.
Frisk looked back at Grillby and smiled tentatively.
Grillby nodded sharply, gave them a brief stay here gesture and turned on his heel, disappearing back out into the hallway.
They considered following him but sat down on the couch. It was a very nice couch, it felt like it was fairly new or rarely used. Their eyes went to the dusty tv; rarely used, probably. Frisk bounced a little where they were sitting and then sat back. Before they had time to wonder where Grillby had gone he returned with two plates with sandwiches on them.
He held one of the plates out to them.
Frisk searched his face.
The corners of his eyes crinkled and he pushed the plate into their hands.
Frisk took a bite. It was a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato. The meat was more turkey-like than actual turkey and there was no mayo or mustard or any condiments. The tomato added some moisture and they weren't about to complain about free food.
Grillby found spare blankets for them, one of which Frisk folded up to make a pillow. They kicked off their shoes and curled into the couch, falling asleep almost as soon as they closed their eyes.
~Frisk, baby, you have to be careful. More careful than anyone...
...They went over their mental list for the thousandth time: face mask, a thick scarf, hand sanitizer...
~Freak! Weirdo! Hey Vader, use the dark side!...
...Shhhh, lower your voice of you'll wake the kids up... We're both working two jobs and barely paying off the interest, we can't, we can't afford another hospital visit- WHAT? ...What are we supposed to do we can't- We could lose them all ...Hopefully it won't come to that...
~Machines beeping a gentle rhythm. Tubes down their throat. All alone. Alone in the dark...
They woke coughing. Frisk pressed their face into the couch cushions, desperately trying to stifle each cough but every one came louder and harder making their whole body shudder. They couldn't stop it. Tears soaked into cushions. Their curled into the blankets, balling the fabric in their fists.
A hand pressed against their back. The heat was sudden, almost uncomfortable as it filled their chest. Their breathing began to ease and the coughs became less wracking. Frisk managed to stifled them down to little gasps of air until the irritation in their throat eased.
Grillby left and returned moments later with a small glass of water. They almost laughed when they saw the rubber gloves he wore and how he held the glass as far away from his body as he could. But, they supposed, it wasn't funny really, not to someone made of fire. Frisk drank the water slowly, taking lots of little sips until they almost couldn't feel the itching, pushing desire to cough.
They finished the cup and gave it back to Grillby, wiping their hands dry on the blankets. He sat the cup down next to the tv and peeled off his gloves tossing them on top of the tv set. When he came back Frisk could see his brow was drawn together. They almost felt like they could see the shape of a frown. The more time they spent around him, the easier it was to see his expressions among the twisting flame.
He was worried.
Frisk smiled, partly reassuring, partly because his concern was so kind. He barely knew them after all.
Grillby knelt down next to the couch and put his hand on their back again.
Frisk immediately relaxed, leaning into the heat.
He patted the couch and Frisk lay back down and let their eyes drift close. Grillby pulled the blanket up to his hand but made no move to get up or leave.
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(Note: Next Update, Wednesday, 9/7/16. I would really, really love and appreciate any comments about this new story. Cause I worry. I hope someone like it.)
