A|N: Had a free space on my writing bingo chart, and decided to dedicate to a human child who lacks that freedom. I didn't expect for the words to flow as easily as they did when I wrote this. This marks the second fun gang character I've officially written for. Seeing how fun (no pun intended) the past two have been, expect more! Happy reading!
Negativity clung to them like a lice to hair. They weren't any animal but human, and it felt odd to compare it to a freeform creature when it felt so, so much heavier to carry. Hey. Something about the sock slipping.
Kris thought they'd be okay when they got older, when they'd for now surely grown their horns and fur. Surely found a magic and excelled in it. They only had one of those and it was in a world no else could fucking see. No one but their new best friend, their old one, their "rival" if the word meant a thin-spined bird, and their "friend" if the word meant copycat. The cheap knock-off of their first real partner.
Now they were just Kris. Plain old, same old, human old Kris. The burdens of their skin, (a horrid brown now an almost prideful jasper in their eyes) had long passed them, leaving the tender ashes of self-hatred that sparked whenever they felt particularly alone. Or stressed. Or bored. Or a bizarre combination that awakened within them whenever a Hometown resident brought up Asriel. An emotion that made them unsure whether they'd use their knife on the offending voice, themselves, or Asriel at this point just to make things easier. Just to get people to shut the fuck up already. Hell, they'd probably do all three eventually. Just what humans did.
A scenario, while funny, while tragic, played often. Some sort of ad-libbed scene they imagined from drama shows. Alphys as this therapist because they didn't want to bother themselves making an imaginary doctor. Letting them know in a voice that either quivered or outright shook depending on their mood of the day that they had dangerously low-self esteem. That they hated themself.
Kris would then shake their head. Sometimes they'd smile, sometimes they'd cry. They'd ask her, either whispering or wailing, how they'd be able to do such a thing. After all, you can't hate someone you don't know.
