"Fluffbun..."

S-swearing?

What if… What if mom finds out? And da...

What if what?

Fullbun again! This splitting headache!

Where are they? Why is everything so black? And so white? And-

A long, slick tongue runs the entire height of Aofil's cheek. At the tip of it is a smaller tongue making a black band in the white band preceded by the first tongue. It's sticky, yet still very runny. Like being poured with both milk and honey at the same time.

If only it smelt like either…

Silver lining though, it woke them up a bit.

But from what, exactly? Each time Aofil blinks there's a different picture. Purple, white, beige. Flashes of suggestions rather than of anything discernible. They don't know where to begin placing these suggestions either. They're familiar, they've seen those places and people...monsters...before, but where and when? They can't place those thoughts down anywhere!

They turn their other cheek, but not on their own volition. Endogeny's large and small tongue slobbers the other side of Aofil's face with just as much enthusiasm as with the first one. It does help their mind to wander away from the flashes of...purple and yellow?

The smell though!

Aofil pushes away the hollow head away from them with both their hands. "Down!" they command to the hulking and shifting mass leaning over them ominously had they not known better. "Endogeny." It's almost as bad as Muffin. "Get off me!"

Half of the shimmering shapes of the smaller dogs acting as Endogeny's legs sit down defiantly, while the rest try and drag the fused mass away from Aofil. "What?" they ask the sitting dogs staring with tilted heads. The black dogs nod in unison to the side, almost like a dark wave, towards the second human body laying silent on its stomach. Its covered in the same amalgamate gunk as Aofil's drenched in.

But despite that, Aofil recognizes who it is instantly.

And the fear of them not moving.

Worse still, the black and white residue surrounding the human form like a small lake is stained.

With red.

Blood red.

"Frisk!"

With hurried tugs combined with even hurried breathing, Aofil struggles their legs out of the whirling black and glimmering white goo. What's left on their ruined jeans mold together and rip apart with each of their quickened steps, as if sticky dough not yet floured. The friction has them stumbling, but Endogeny offers an emerging dog head for Aofil to take support on. They give it a scratch behind its black ear as thanks, and it barks happily. Aofil hears its voice from a distance rather than right next to them, but they give it no thought yet.

The only distance that's important right now is the one towards Frisk.

And it's yet too far away.

"Frisk!" Aofil again shouts in a desperate attempt to wake them up. Their steps are again halted by the residue fusing together black on their left leg with white on their right leg. They don't get an answer from the body, which has them gritting their teeth. What's happened to Frisk? Why are they so far away? Did they try and walk and collapse? If not, then how big can Endogeny really get?

Aofil looks the supporting dog's head in the eyes, and it flops to the side curiously as it waits. "Carry me," they say to it. Endogeny bends down to offer its massive back, which Aofil grabs onto and mount up on. The feeling's strange, as if they're grabbing fur and soft fabric. When they look at their hands though, they only see the amalgamate gunk as usual. It's ever-changing swirls and stripes of inverting black and white feels nothing like fur.

So why did it feel like fur then?

Dammit, Frisk! Aofil said that this was a bad idea! Letting Endogeny swallow the two, what was Aofil thinking? It's been walking around with two human souls in it, who knows what damage it's done? Is Mt. Ebott still standing after Endogeny's fused rampage?

Yes...yes, actually.

Since there's no sunlight around.

Huh…

As Aofil looks around, they don't see any visible damage. The pretend Spider Cafe is the same as how they last remembered of it. Same spidery decor, same spidery tables, same spidery tables, same spidery everything!

It's not even whole when Muffet's around! So how can it be this clean with a twice human soul charged amalgamate around?

Hopefully the cake them and dad brought with them is still alright for Frisk.

What are these thoughts? Where are they coming from?

Has Aofil and Frisk's memories fused together? Their souls too? Magic's finally caught up to the two for the last time?

Dammit! That's gonna be even worse to explain! Any chance that will work out is if they somehow also fused together an explanation. And Aofil can't even explain what they themselves are thinking, so that's already out of the question!

With some effort, Aofil dismounts Endogeny as it stops with its tails whipping dog residue onto the walls and tables around it. The residue dissipates upon contact with a silent glimmer, as if never having existed. Same what Aofil wish this entire situation's never having. No aura for it to sustain on the magic. Not enough determination to keep its experimented existence up.

If there's puddles of it around Frisk though it might be a sign that they're still alive.

Aofil's almost surprised that they land so early on the stone floor that's quickly drowning in goo underneath Endogeny. They expected to fall for a bit longer, and their knees take a slight blow that they're forced to weather. The supporting head emerges from Endogeny again to catch Aofil stumbling as they begin to sprint the last few steps towards Frisk's still body. Their feet feel too...small? But they have shoes on! How is that possible?

How bad is it for Frisk then if Aofil's like this? Aofil feeling like their head is about to explode they can accept. That they can move past. If something's happened to Frisk though…

God dammit!

Aofil throws themselves down on their hurting knees, crashing into the pooled amalgamate goo mixed with crimson blood. It still looks fresh, whatever small relief that is. Thick drops of black and white dog faces dotted with red look concernedly down at Frisk as they sail through the air from Aofil's impact into the lake of Endogeny's making. "Frisk!" Aofil turns the recently adult human around by their striped shoulders. They swipe off the residue from the purple and blue sweater, and lean their ear down onto it.

But their own heart is beating too loud for them to hear anything from Frisk.

Breathe in.

Calm down.

Don't stress yourself over being stressed yourself. That will just make things worse.

Just...breathe...in.

Deeply through the nose.

And out their mouth.

In through their nose again.

And then they hold it.

The splashes from the drops falling off Endogeny ring out in the empty dining hall. Each one is like a beat of a drum to Aofil. "Come on, Frisk," they whisper through their teeth. "Talk to me." They shut their eyes closed to focus their entire being on the limp body they're cradling inside their arms.

Endogeny leans its curious gaping hole towards the silent humans. It takes a timid step to look over Aofil's shoulder to Frisk. On the torso almost completely hidden by Aofil's feared frown. Their eyes are focused and hardened on even the most minute of movement. Be it the fabric of the sweater swaying from the wind from Hotland, or…

Or!

Yes!

It's moving!

Aofil's almost swallowed by Endogeny as they throw their head up. The amalgamate falls backwards onto a nearby table which absorbs into its body with an audible slurp. Aofil puts their head down onto Frisk again just to make sure.

They have to be sure.

They have to!

Frisk's sweater chafes against Aofil's ear as it pushes against it before gently receding away.

They're breathing! Frisk's breathing!

With a sigh that leaves them lightheaded, Aofil exhales some of their worry. Not all of it though. They still have to find where the blood is coming from. It's hard to see at the moment as Endogeny begins leaning above them again. Drops from its hollow mouth hits Aofil on the back of their head like cold rain, and they shoo it away to get its looming shadow somewhere else besides on Frisk's head where they need to look. "Sit down over there, Endogeny! You're in the way!"

It slinks away with its many tails underneath its many legs, disposing of its absorbed table next to Frisk.

For now Endogeny will do best out of the way. Aofil will apologize to it later once they know Frisk is safe.

...If…

No!

Once!

No ifs!

"Can you hear me, Frisk?" Aofil tries as they follow the small stream of blood staining the monochrome puddle around the injured human. "Where does it hurt?"

Aofil has a feeling that they already know where it does hurt.

At the first place they should look.

Gingerly, they angle the sleeping head forward.

"Fuck."

Frisk's hair is drowning in red, white, and black. It's dripping down the long fringe gripping tightly against the yellow forehead. Down the solemn cheek, and onto Aofil's hand. The warmth from it travels straight through the thick layer of Endogeny's sludge. The ripples echoes inside Aofil's body, with waves of fear and panic traveling up both their arm and spine.

No! No no no no! This is bad! Anything but a head injury! Even if Frisk allows Toriel or Asgore to heal their head, it might be too much for magic to cure.

Aofil lays Frisk down again, carefully. Both of their hands giving Frisk's head support as they slowly put it back onto the ground which they clear off as much of Endogeny's residue they can. The yellow hue of Frisk's skin radiates into the few drops too stuck for Aofil to dare remove. It's tinted a sickly color when a drop of blood slides into it. It looks like it's only reacting to the blood's presence and not doing anything with it, which is a relief.

They need to fix this quickly. There can't be any cameras around, or else Aofil would've woken up to Alphys tending them after having tended to Frisk. It's just the two humans and Endogeny here for now. Endogeny might be to some use sprinting over to the others and fetching them, but if Aofil's worried about magic healing Frisk's head they're more worried about their condition and getting shortcutted with their condition. Right now it's some human help Frisk needs, and then once they're stable enough for magic Endogeny can carry them to further help.

And even if Endogeny hurries as fast as it can it'll be too late. Frisk needs help now!

Glass, plates, and cutlery follow with the table cloth Aofil drags off a nearby table, landing with faint splashes in the pools of white and black bobbing on the floor. They also swipe some napkins which they pad against Frisk's hair. They have to clean them off to find out exactly how bad the injury is.

First their fringe.

Then their forehead.

Then their head.

And then their-

"Ow!"

Their ow?

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!"

Endogeny spins around with the hole in its face foaming up with excitement seeing Frisk fly up to a clenching sit, but before it can charge happily across the room again, Aofil puts up a stern flat of their hand. "Stay!" they command it, to which it stops dead in its barely-taken track. Even a statue has more movement to it. It sits down obediently, with all of its smaller dogs doing the same. All looking at Aofil and Frisk unblinkingly, eagerly waiting to spring back up on its legs and show its relieved affection. That's something it'll have to wait patiently for while Aofil returns their attention to their patient. They're still not a hundred percent sure what's happening with Frisk.

And that's not enough.

"Frisk," they address the groaning human clutching carefully at their own head. "Talk to me. How much does it hurt?"

"It hurts!"

That's not enough. "How much?" Aofil needs to know exactly.

A few heavy breaths pass before Frisk can speak again. "Like a brain freeze that won't give up!"

Again, "Inside your head?" exactly. Aofil needs to know exactly.

Frisk so wants to shake their head, but they can't! It would only hurt more! "No!" They grit their teeth, missing their tongue barely. "It's outside!"

"Frisk," Aofil again addresses straight while they present the bloodied napkin. "I need to see what it is that is hurting for you." They touch softly at Frisk's tensed hands to show that they're being serious. "Please, lower your hands."

A few heavy and deep breaths echo throughout the large room as Frisk carefully tries to lift their red palms away from their head. They fail the first time, and push them back down while choking a pained sob. Aofil gives them a silent look to remind them that this is something that must be done, and after a hard swallow, Frisk begins lifting their hands off.

Aofil still can't see where the blood is coming from though. They have more to clean off. "Just a bit more, Frisk." The clutching hands stay locked tightly together even as they're lifted up, and Aofil helps by carefully grabbing Frisk's wrists and easing the fingers apart. Afterwards they cup the bloodied head in their palm so that they can tilt it forwards to inspect. They pat at it with the napkin and-

"No!" Frisk throws their arms at Aofil's sweater which they clench between their fingers. "It hurts!" With each sharp inhale they wring the drenched fabric harder and harder, squeezing it dry from Endogeny's residue. The fabric turns a deep pink as it blends with the blood on Frisk's hands.

"I have to," Aofil reminds as calmly as they can. They throw a glance over their shoulder to make sure Endogeny is still sitting pretty. It wants to lunge at Frisk's aide, that much is clear by the distress happening among its black dogs around its white legs. In unison, all the dogs are barking a deafening silence while trampling impatiently on the floor. "It's just a bit more, Frisk. I promise."

Frisk's fists tighten, and they nod as their body begins quivering. "I know..." It's barely an acknowledgment. Aofil can hear the strain on Frisk's voice, it's not boding well. The two humans are both hurting from this, but it's a lesser hurt compared to what might happen if the two just ignore it.

The cavern fills with Frisk's long, shivering breaths expelling and inhaling without a consistent rhythm. They barely get any air in through their shaking mouth, and even less through their clamped throat. They begin to feel lightheaded, and also a bit numb.

Perhaps that's for the better? Then it won't hurt so much.

They take a last long breath and hold it in while nodding as gently as they can.

Aofil takes that as a go ahead to continue. They gingerly part as much hair as they can from where the blood seems to be running out from, making extra sure to tug as little as possible. Even with Aofil's gentle carefulness Frisk still coughs another painful sob through their coarse throat. They have Aofil's sweater to rip in their pain though, so they don't say anything else besides a few steadying and sharp breaths. They're almost hugging Aofil.

Maybe they should...

"Just a bit more, kid," Aofil comforts to the best of their dehydrated and confused ability as Frisk envelops their arms around Aofil, squeezing them tightly with a choked cough. Again their head is flashed with thoughts and memories that could never have happened. Of Frisk and Aofil sitting on a roof in the Underground with a bowl of snails between them. The two are Boss Monsters in the memory. Boss Monster kids.

Aofil shakes the thought away, but it's still lingering at the back of their head. "Just a bit more," they repeat to Frisk.

No answer.

The napkin again lands like a snowflake on Frisk's parted hair. "Breathe in, Frisk. You need your lungs filled for this."

They do so.

And Aofil swipes back.

The napkin rips apart into three bloodied slivers in their hand as it grinds against something sharp. The tips of which grace at Aofil's palms.

What the-

Frisk forces their head into Aofil's chest as they cry out in uncontrollable pain.

A strange warmth surges up from where Frisk's head is pushed against Aofil's torso. It's...soothing...in a way. Amid all this confusion, there's a sudden serenity beginning to wash away everything in Aofil's mind. The confusing memories and thoughts, they all stop. They step aside respectfully to allow in the serenity. It's whimpering in its entrance. It's hesitant to walk the path that was so busy just a moment ago. It's alone. The only thought left. None of the other voices want to talk anymore. It's past their time. There's nothing left they can say, because whatever they can say is meaningless now.

It's all come ahead for Aofil now.

They'd laugh at it if they could, but even if they could, they'd probably not do it either. This silence is comforting. It is not something Aofil has ever experienced before. This infinite moment of nothing but an overtaking serenity spreading out from their chest. They know what it is, but despite that, they still welcome it. They should rage against it, they should curse and bargain for this to be reset and never happen! When they look down though however, at their hand laying heavy on the back of Frisk's weeping head, they don't have the strength to move neither their hand or their eyes from the glue-like hair. Their strength is being sapped away by the serenity that's now gently asking for Aofil to relax and just look. It's the only thing they feel like they can do. Just look.

Just look at Frisk.

Frisk…

What to say to the kiddo? That Aofil's proud? Of course they are, that goes without saying. What Aofil's failed at as an adult Frisk has managed as a mere child.

Mere?

No, Frisk is no mere child. They're an adult now. Happy birthday, Frisk.

Perhaps...perhaps that's what Aofil should say now. It's a good moment for it. They have to collect themselves a bit though. Their throat is choking a bit at the moment.

Aofil weakly grabs Frisk by their sobbing head. Not to push away.

But to hold close.

A strange warmth begins pouring over Frisk's eyes. A sanguine river dripping from their fringe like water from the cavern roof onto its hanging formations. Blood. They can feel their heart thump hard inside their head, but it sounds different. It's not in rhythm. There's more of it too. A second voice of a quietly beating heart along with their own. The two hearts are beating together, but not as one. There's an offset, both in rhythm and intensity.

Like comparing a blazing sunset to a fading candle.

Frisk grasps at their chest, and through their arm they feel their own heart beating along one of the rhythms in their head.

Where is the other one coming from?

"Frisk..."

Frisk tries to look up, but Aofil holds their head locked in with their tensed hand. Their ear pushes harder against Aofil's torso, where they hear…

No.

Where they don't hear Aofil's heart…

Only through their skull.

Only through their-

"D-don't move," Aofil...pleads? Why are they-

...No.

No!

No! No! No!

"It's fine," Aofil coughs out, bending their weight forward so that it rests on Frisk. "You've done more as a child that I've done as an adult." Something else they should add too. "This is not your fault. Don't think more of it, please." Good, now they've said what they had to say. "Thank you for giving me a new family." The serenity sighs its presence throughout Aofil. "Thank you for being a part of it."

And they accept it.

Frisk feels the entire movement unfold on them. They feel the push forward on the top of their skull and the hardened grip Aofil takes at the back of their hair. Afterwards they feel the grip loosen, and Aofil's weight moving off their body. The tensed hand, now limp, runs up the back of Frisk's hair. The weakened fingers hook temporarily before slipping off, and Frisk lurches forward down on their hands and knees.

Their head is bent over when Aofil hits the ground. The stripes and dots of blood on the monochrome floor bobs as the waves from the impact washes up on Frisk's knees. Through the now syrupy red strands of hair hanging over their eyes, Frisk stares at their shadow shifting up and down as they heave their breaths.

"E...Endogeny..."

Warm drops hit the back of Frisk's neck and shoulders.

"G-get t-the others..."

They move their hands up, and their shadow follows.

"P-please..."

To the acute growths protruding from their skull.

"F-Frisk n-needs help n-now that I c-can't..."

Their horns.

"Hurry..."

Slick with blood.

"...H...e...l...p..."

That's not their own.

Black and white streak past Frisk's vision. A hurrying mass crossing their side in a blur, leaving a trail that's scrambling on its own to follow. Frisk follows the fresh residue to where it begins to turn pink, and eventually red. Like confetti out of glistening snow falling gently upwards, the residue on Aofil's body begins to fade off of them. Long and reaching dusty rays of sanguine cast flickering shadows upon the ground and walls as a trembling heart breaches like the sun behind a layer of clouds from Aofil's still chest.

Frisk knees wobble as they try to stand up, and they fail to find their balance. They can feel their horns tug at the loose skin around their base on their skull, and the drops losing grip from the tip of their hair as they fall back down on their hands. "No!" they cry with swelling despair. "What have I done?"

The quiet serenity is chased away by Frisk's desperate voice. The fear in it rattles Aofil awake, and they try to sit up to help.

But they can't. They're too tired. Too sapped. "Frisk," they call out faintly. The serenity begins to take over again, urging with care for Aofil to keep laying down. It's warm. It doesn't yell at Aofil. It's nice. Stay with Aofil from now on. Keep the quiet, please.

Their lungs burn from within as they cough from the strain of speaking.

"A-Aofil?" Frisk replies, their body stiffening from the harshness of Aofil's voice. With their now locked knees, they finally manage to command their legs to begin moving their body forwards. They stumble a step closer. "I...I'm sorry. I-"

No.

No.

Don't be.

"I...t's not y-your fault." Another violent cough bursts out of Aofil, and their legs ball up to further compress the two wounds they're holding as closed as they can with their arms. Their soul remains above and out of them though, suspended in the air as it flutters violently with each of Aofil's coughs. They can see their sweater turn more and more red even through their darkened vision. Where's the serenity? Why did it disappear again? Wait...is that Frisk? What...what wonderful horns they have. Oh, they look beautiful. They're shaped like Toriel's, but as sharp and robust as Asgore's. "They look good on you," Aofil compliments before failing to reach up with their hand. "Can...I...touch..."

It's hurting again. It wasn't just a second before, but it is now. Not as much though, but enough that Aofil's uncomfortable. It must be their tiredness. They've never been this tired before. It's not a comforting tired. It's cold now, as if they're exposed. The realization is slowly crawling up to them, albeit very slowly. It won't reach Aofil's awareness in time.

They'll be sleeping before that happens.

Frisk collapses onto their knees next to Aofil. The shock travels up their entire body and explodes as it hits their horns. They cry out, but bite their teeth together instantly after. They know this pain. They've seen this before with the monsters.

B-but never before with a human!

It's...so different. Yet so similar! It's Frisk's fault, it's their doing, just like how it was with the monsters. They can fix it though! "I'll reset, Aofil!"

But to when?

"No."

No?

"No resets." Aofil tries to move their head, but they're not feeling it. "A-Asriel...he..."

"He'll remember!" He'll remember being Asriel! "We'll all remember that it'll work out!" It will work again! It'll just be...another one. Another reset. They'll get longer next time. There's always a next time.

Always a next time…

And then a next time after that.

And after that.

And after that!

No, it won't end with a reset.

Because that only means another reset.

Frisk needs to solve this without one.

They have to stay…

They have to…

They can't.

"I'm sorry," they whisper to Aofil. Their face is red, except on their cheeks. The flush on them has faded away. "I didn't want you to get hurt, Aofil." They reach out for the shaking red, cracked soul supplemented with slivers of white, cupping it inside their hands.

Aofil sighs in content.

It's warm again. Thank you, Frisk. Always so kind.

They extend a hand towards Frisk to tell them that it's fine. Endogeny will find the rest and Sans will shortcut here some help so that Frisk will be all right. It's too late for now for Aofil. No worries though, Aofil just needs to rest a bit. They're too tired now. Too tired to even close their eyes properly. Too tired too breathe. They'll just rest for a bit. Then it'll be just fine.

The rays of red light weaken into a faint glow.

It'll be just fine.

Just...

...fine…

...

Frisk catches the pale hand falling just before it can grace their stained cheek. They grasp it, and move it towards their weeping eyes.

Before one of Aofil's fingers can touch the tear-filled skin though, the soul in their other hand begins to shift once and fiercely with a sickening crack. "No!" Frisk throws the pale hand back down with a roar to hold the quivering soul together with both their hands.

They refuse!

They're not gonna let another death happen because they were careless! Not another reset! "Your family wants you! They need you! Muffet wants you, Aofil! You can't leave her without hope!" Not one more!

Looking upon the fragile smile of the closest Frisk had to a human parent.

It fills them with determination!

It stirs within them. The same flourishing energy that surged throughout them when they first laid a blow on a monster. The anger and the fear becoming a reward. An eagerness for the feeling of having another one's life in their hands. Deciding upon its fate, turning that anger and fear into fuel to chase another. Frisk became drunk with it before, and they'll get drunk with it again. They'll let it take over them. Lose their entire being to it, both body and soul. Cloud their vision with whatever blinding haze it can summon. Fill their mind with thoughts they can't stop. Have their chest feel like it's about to burst into flames!

The anger! The fear! Don't hold it back! Have it feel like their soul is about to swell to a size their body can't endure. They're determined, from their very core.

They're determined.

To save a life. A human life!

With this anger towards themselves.

With this fear towards themselves.

To what they're capable of, deep down. The past they could never look back onto for fear of remembering. For anger over the memories that plagued their dreams.

Take it all in their hands that they're holding in front of them.

Take it all.

And force it to obey Frisk the same way Frisk obeyed it!

The will to live. The determination to push forward. The refusal that gave them the desire to kill. It gave them strength. It gave them courage. It gave them the distance they could take from their own actions. To only see what lied beyond, the perverted ecstasy that they couldn't stop, and wouldn't ever want to stop.

Within it is another desire. A desire that the perversion twisted, yet was still true. It's a distance Frisk had to close. A distance they had to confine within themselves. Within their soul.

They need this distance now to reach Aofil.

But not with the desire they know it from.

Not to kill.

But a desire to save.

It can't do it alone though. Not with a human.

Frisk needs them both!

Their hands strain as the white strands begin to loosen from the red. They push it back it. They'll push it deeper if they have to! Despite their efforts, more and more of the white in the soul begins unraveling to expose the hollow crevices. They're...loosing...grip!

No!

They won't allow it.

They remember what Chara and they cried to Sans when they couldn't make it pass him. When their desire to kill took them over.

They remember what Asriel cried when he couldn't make it pass them. When their desire to save took them over.

And they'll remember what they cried when they wouldn't let their family lose another human! When both their desires thundered as one!

"Just let me win!"

Frisk slams their palms down onto Aofil's chest, who's body flinches from the hit. The two pouring wounds pump underneath Frisk's palms, and they dig their fingers deep into the surrounding skin. The blood pours between their fingers the same way the dust flowed when they distanced themselves during their first desire. The distance they need now to reach beyond themselves and into Aofil. "Fuck you, Aofil," they roar through their gritted teeth. Hate and anger crackles like lightning inside their eyes. "Fuck you, I'll save you!"

If only Chara was still here. If only Asriel was still inside Aofil. Then those two could find each other.

But it's just Frisk and Aofil.

They're alone together.

And that alone is…

It Is!

"There!"

Frisk feels the distance close in on them. Another heart again beating within them. It's weak, it's so very weak. Frisk needs to heal it.

To save it!

It's shattered form with the white slivers holding it together just barely. Frisk won't let it shatter.

They refuse to!

They refuse it!

Their hands shimmer with the same green that helped them survive Flowey. With the same green that helped them save a Hypergod. That green they've taken within their soul they're now giving to Aofil. They feel the cracked soul beat with renewed vigor just like theirs did back then as the green envelops its red contours. Frisk pushes more of the green through them. Their soul again swells within them until it begins pushing out of their skin for a second time.

It hurts.

But it did so back then too.

And this time they'll-

A breeze passes Frisk by.

Followed by a symphony of startled gasps.

"Child!"

That's mom.

"Aofil! Can you hear me?"

That's dad.

Frisk is enveloped by a pair of large and fuzzy arms, and a serene warmth washes over their head like a hot shower. Their vision turns green for a brief moment as they see the silly costumed form of their dad scoop up Aofil's body tenderly with one arm. He casts a desperate glance over Frisk, and the arms around them unfolds with hurry. Mom pushes them into another pair of fuzzy arms which flinch scared before finding a clumsy grip. "Frisk isn't as hurt as Aofil. Hold your sibling." A long and stunned hesitation passes before Frisk is dragged away from their parents hunching over Aofil bathing in green magic.

"What happened to you two?"

That's Asriel.

"You've got blood all over you! Your head is hurt! Your soul is..."

He stops and turns Frisk around to him.

"Your soul..."

He looks down at the exposed heart hovering and quivering outside Frisk's chest. Its red shimmer is lost among the blood on their drenched sweater. At its center rests a core of white, glistening and shuddering from being exposed outside its vessel. Asriel timidly grabs at his torso, and brings out his monster soul surrounding the small red core of his own.

The light from Asriel's soul, fur, and now brimming teeth has Frisk squinting.

The squinting has them feeling tired.

But they can't be tired! Aofil is-

"Call an ambulance, Papyrus! Tell them to meet us at the foot of the mountain. Sans?"

That's dad again.

"We'll take you to a hospital, Aofil. Just hold my hand, human. I won't let go of it."

That's mom again.

"You'll have to carry Frisk to River Person, Asriel! They'll be here in a minute or so! Let's go!"

Undyne.

"Mettaton is on h-his w-way to the elevators w-with Muffet. He'll m-meet the Royals at the t-top. I g-got h-half of the first a-aid kit with me here with River P-Person!"

Alphys, through Undyne's phone.

"F...Frisk..."

That's…

"No, don't speak, Aofil. Conserve your strength."

It was…

Frisk's head slumps over Asriel's shoulder as he takes off with Undyne next to him.

Their vision fades into a flickering darkness.

With a relieved smile on their lips.