Dark Corners

Chapter 5.

Okay, so, first up for the dark themes/implications: Teenage pregnancy and prostitution. If you are not okay with that, tread lightly, or back out if you must.


After nearly an hour of driving, Toriel, Asgore, and Sans found themselves in the inner city and immediately they saw a stark contrast between it and their own neighborhood. Unlike their neighborhood, where the infrastructures were well kept, the air was clean, and the faces of the residents were friendly, here the buildings ranged from passable condition to likely to be condemned. The street was riddled with crack and potholes, clearly it had not been worked on in ages, some of the street lights were either not working or missing lights all together, and some of the street signs were damaged. The residents they passed ranged from not even sparing them a glance to staring at them blankly, far from the welcoming atmosphere they knew back home.

"Are...we in the right place?" Asgore wondered, warily scanning the environment as they kept driving.

"If the address Frisk gave me is right." Toriel said, glancing side to side while trying to keep her eyes on the road.

"Honestly," Sans voiced, "this is about what I was expecting."

"How so?" Asgore responded.

"Well," the short skeleton said, "Frisk did say his old place was quite the opposite of our place...can't get more opposite than this."

As they kept driving, they passed buildings and dwellings that were plastered with graffiti, trashcans and dumpsters overflowing with garbage, alleys lined with heaps of filthy garbage bags, stray cats were scaling the infrastructures while stray dogs were searching the trash for food.

"Uh...Toriel..." Asgore spoke uncomfortably.

"We should be coming up on the address soon." she assured him, keeping her eyes forward.

After a few more minutes of driving, they made it to a dilapidated apartment building and one look was all it took to determine that is was no place for a child to live; graffiti covered the lower half of the building, all of it messages suggesting certain people to call "for a good time," the roof looked to be caving in, there were bricks missing side of building, as well as metal stakes wedged into various parts of the structure, some of the windows were broken or boarded up.

"Okay..." Toriel said uneasily, "here is our destination."

"This is where Frisk used to live?" Asgore replied, appalled.

"Oh wow," Sans said, "now I get what Frisk meant when he said he couldn't forget his old address if he tried."

They all stared at the building for nearly a minute.

"Well," Toriel sighed, "let us not waste any more time."

The three of them finally got out of the vehicle and made their way to the front door of the apartment complex, as they went, Sans caught a glimpse of a suggestive graffiti message that appeared to mention "Mettle Thole."

Entering the building, they found that the inside was in no better condition than the outside, the walls of the lobby were filthy and riddled with holes of various sizes, the hardwood floor creaked harshly with every step they took, the air smelled of cigarettes and something grassy. At the front desk, there was a scruffy young woman, with green-dyed hair, scrolling through her phone with a vacant expression on her face. When she looked up from her phone and saw the three monsters standing at her desk, he expression barely changed, other than being a bit surprised, she hardly seemed fazed.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked dully.

"Um, yes," Toriel responded a bit restless, "we are looking for a man named...Mettle Thole."

The young woman's face lit up at the mention of the name.

"Hot Thole?" the green-haired girl voiced with interest, "Top floor, end of the hall on the right, apartment 500."

"Okay," Toriel replied, "thank you."

They got in the elevator and rode it to the top floor, when they stepped out, they saw a long, gray, brightly-lit hall lined with black doors marked with blue numbers. They walked to the end of hall, hearing various sounds as they passed each apartment, loud music, people talking, laughing, arguing, until they reached apartment 500, which was dead quiet.

Asgore reached out and knocked on the door, then they waited.

"Coming." they heard from the other side of the door, a man's voice.

Soon, the door opened to reveal a rail-thin young man with fair skin, short, disheveled brown hair, and light blue eyes, he was wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and tattered gray jeans. He looked in awe at the three monsters.

"Uh, hello," Asgore said, "we are looking for a Mettle Thole, we were told that he lived in this apartment."

"Yeah," the young man responded, "I'm Mettle Thole."

The reveal caught the three monsters off guard.

"You...are Mettle Thole," Toriel inquired in disbelief, "Frisk's father?"

The young man smiled placidly and nodded and Toriel looked away in bewilderment.

"Um..." Asgore spoke awkwardly, "we are-"

"I know who you are, everyone knows," Mettle interjected tranquilly, "you're Asgore, Toriel, and you're Sans."

Toriel rubbed the back of her neck and smiled politely.

"Mr. Thole," she voiced, "we came to talk to you about Frisk."

Mettle smiled, but, suddenly looked fearful.

"You didn't bring him here with you, did you?" he questioned nervously.

"No, no," Toriel assured him, "he is back at our house."

"Oh, okay," Mettle sighed with relief, "good."

He stared at the ground for a moment.

"Mr. Thole," Toriel quizzed mildly, "I am sorry if this is intrusive, but, I have to ask...how old are you?"

Mettle looked up, not visibly bothered.

"I'm 24." he answered calmly.

He then turned to open the door to his apartment all the way.

"Frisk is 8...right?" Asgore mumbled to Toriel.

She answered him with a nod and Asgore counted on his fingers.

"Oh...my..." the goat man murmured uneasily.

"Well," the young man said, "come on, let's talk inside."

The three monsters followed him into the apartment and immediately they could see just how small it was, with a small, carpeted area with a cheap, beat-up couch, a coffee table, and an old television on a small, wooden stand, presumably the 'living room' area. Connected to it was the small kitchen area with a refrigerator, counter, oven, and sink, with a few cabinets lined on the wall and a cheap fold out table with a few folding chairs around it.

As she passed the fridge, Toriel saw that it was covered in newspaper clippings, all regarding Frisk as the monsters, which made her smile.

Mettle pulled a couple of the folding chairs from the table near the kitchen and placed them by the coffee table, one of which he sat down on. Toriel and Asgore sat on the couch, while Sans took the other folding chair.

"Sorry there's not many comfortable places to sit in here." Mettle said awkwardly.

"That is no problem," Toriel replied, "we should not be too long."

"Now," the young man pressed, "about Frisk?"

"Yes," Toriel spoke, just now remembering the adoption form in her hand, "we were hoping to talk to you about Frisk's living arrangement."

"He has been staying with us for a while," Asgore added, "did you know that?"

Mettle nodded.

"Oh yes," he affirmed, "I've watched the news, read the paper, and checked the news sites every day since we found out about you guys."

"So...you are okay with the fact that Frisk has been staying with us?" Toriel inquired.

"Oh certainly," Mettle voiced, "I tell you, I was scared to death when I came home from work and saw Frisk gone."

He turned around and grabbed something out of a nearby drawer.

"This is the note Frisk left me the day he ran off." he clarified.

He handed the piece of white not paper to Asgore and he, Toriel and Sans looked at it.

The note read:

"Dear Daddy, thank you so much for being the best dad you could be for me,

you took such good care of me and gave me so much with so little.

You work so hard, but, I think enough is enough, I'm tired of seeing

you come home hurt, I'm tired of seeing you go hungry, and not get

enough sleep, just to provide for me. You've done so much for me, now,

I am going to do something for you, I am going to find a new place to live,

so you don't have to worry about me anymore. If we meet again, hopefully

things will be better by then. I love you and always will.

Your son, Frisk."

The monsters looked at the note, dumbfounded, it was pretty much what Frisk had told them at the house, he really did climb the mountain to make life easier for his dad.

"Due to...work stuff...it actually took me a few days to get home," Mettle explained, "so, I had no way of knowing when Frisk would've left or how far he had gone, I actually ran around the neighborhood for almost ten minutes looking for him, calling him, before someone I work with showed me a newspaper about Frisk and the monsters."

"Did you ever consider coming to get Frisk?" Sans asked.

"It was an immediate thought," the young human man expressed, "but, when I got information about you guys, I saw more stuff on the news about the new monster society and where Frisk was staying with you guys, I decided...there was no rush."

Mettle looked down at his clasped hands.

"With you guys I saw that he was happy and healthy," he went on, "he had friends, friends his age, there are no kids for him to play with around here, none that I'd want him to interact with, when I saw that I just...I couldn't find it in me to bring him back here, where there's nothing for him."

Toriel and Asgore looked on solicitously, while Sans was eyeing the telltale abrasions on Mettle's wrists, like they had been bound with something recently. There were also miniscule cuts on his knuckles, some looked recently healed, while some looked fresh. At that moment he got up from his seat and started to look around.

"I'm sorry," Mettle said penitently, "I know it's selfish, I should've said something instead of, basically, dumping Frisk on you-"

"No, no, do not worry," Toriel expressed reassuringly, "Frisk came to us of his own volition and we have been taking good care of him, I swear, we love Frisk to death, he is practically family to all of monsterkind, Asgore and I have a son of our own back home and he and Frisk are the best of friends, practically brothers."

The young human man smile gratefully in response.

At the same time, Sans glanced inside the bathroom and saw what looked like makeup by the bathroom sink. Discreetly using his telekinetic powers, he opened the medicine cabinet and noticed a bottle of cheap, over the counter, painkillers, a bottle of designer cologne, and designer perfume. He quickly shut the cabinet.

"Speaking of family, Mr. Thole," Toriel voiced, "the main thing we wanted to come talk to you about is...this."

She placed the adoption form down in front of him.

"We found out today that we meet all the qualifications to legally adopt Frisk," the goat woman continued, "all we need is...the permission of the birth parents."

Mettle stared at the adoption form for a moment before his eyes lit up.

"Yes," he professed hopefully, "yes, one hundred percent, yes, I need a pen!"

"Right here." Sans called from the other side of the room and tossed a pen to Mettle, who caught it. He then turned his head towards the little, shabby dresser right next to him. Using his telekinetic powers, he carefully pulled the top drawer open and saw a black trench coat, along with what looked like a little card. He used his power to pick the card up and found that it was some kind of business card, one side of it was vividly colored and had black, glittery letters spelling out "Indigo Inferno" along with an address, the other side of the card said, "Mustang" along with another version of the address and a phone number.

"You're really okay with giving up your parental rights?" Asgore queried to Mettle.

Mettle smiled peacefully, looking down at the adoption form.

"All I've ever wanted was to give Frisk a good life, there's nothing I wouldn't do for my son," he expressed, "Frisk needs a home, a family, a future, but, this is not a home, I am not enough, and there is no future here for him, not a favorable one, at least."

With that, Sans closed his eyes and pushed the dresser drawer closed.

"I get it." the short skeleton mumbled to himself.

Mettle signed his name on the form, with Toriel and Asgore filling out the areas they needed to as well.

"Good, we are nearly done," Toriel said blissfully, "now all we need is Frisk's mother's signature."

As soon as she said that, Mettle's eyes went wide, his expression unreadable.

"You...need...Frisk's mother's signature?" responded tensely.

"It is, as the social worker said, a formality," Toriel explained, "we need the consent of both birth parents to take Frisk in."

Mettle looked on anxiously, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay." he said breathlessly.

"Is there any way we can get in touch with Frisk's mother?" Asgore asked.

"Finding her...isn't an issue," Mettle told him hesitantly, "I...work for her."

"You work for Frisk's mother?" a surprised Toriel responded, "Frisk never mentioned that."

"He doesn't know." the young man stated.

"Well," Sans said, "Frisk did say that he didn't even know his mom's name."

"He doesn't know her and I would prefer it stayed that way." Mettle asserted.

The monsters looked at him curiously.

"Look," Mettle said, "just, leave it to me, give me the form, I'll get her to sign it."

"Okay, but," Toriel informed him, "but, we were told that someone should be present to make sure the form is properly filled out."

Mettle looked uneasy.

"I'll go with him." Sans spoke up.

"Are you sure, Sans?" Toriel inquired.

"Yeah," the short skeleton said, "it's probably best that we didn't all go, plus, if anything goes wrong, I can offer a quick exit."

"That could work." Mettle responded.


Mettle went to his dresser and got out the black trench coat Sans had seen, putting it on, oddly enough it seemed a couple sizes too big for him.

"Are you sure you want to walk there?" Toriel inquired curiously, "We could easily go there in our vehicle."

"It's fine," Mettle said, "the amount of times I've walked that route I could walk it backwards with my eyes closed, also, where we're going you really don't wanna leave your vehicle unguarded, walking is the better choice."

"We'll be fine, Tori." Sans assured her.

With that the short skeleton and young human man left the apartment, it was a silent walk to the elevator, minus any noise they heard from the other apartments. The entire time, Sans studied Mettle's pensive expression. There was one thing he had been unable to overlook the moment Mettle opened his door to them and that was the particularly dead look in his eyes, like half the time he was not there, like he had done something wrong.

As soon as they got on the elevator, Sans decided to look into the theory he had been building all night.

"Hey, so," the short skeleton finally asked, "maybe I'm wrong, but, it's gonna bother me until I know for sure, so, I gotta ask...you're a sex worker aren't you?"

Mettle looked at him, surprised, but, he very quickly closed his eyes, shamefaced, and nodded softly.


Now, about Frisk's dad's name:

Mettle means: A person's ability to cope well with difficulties or to face a demanding situation in a spirited and resilient way.

Thole means: Endure (something) without complaint or resistance.