CHAPTER TWO; THE LOVERS

*be warned; this story contains violence, swearing, minor suggestive themes, mental illness, and self harm. If you are easily upset, do not read this story. If you are self harming or think you have a mental illness, please seek help. I love all of you 3

{Occasionally, you'll find another that is as insane as you are; perhaps even more so. This shouldn't motivate you. This shouldn't depress you. You should only be ashamed, ashamed of the fact that you have accepted both yourself, and another to be insane.}

At around nine in the morning, Frisk slowly sits up in bed, twisting her body in an attempt to scratch a spot in the middle her back. Sunlight seeps in through a large, circular window. Bars positioned like a grid on the outside, set in place to prevent patients from climbing through the window and hurting themselves, make the scene a bit harsher than it should have been at such an early hour.

Because there is no rustling or murmuring sounds from Chara's section of the room, it seems she was still asleep, so Frisk doesn't pay her any mind. Standing up, she yawns and tries to turn her head, wincing as she finds her neck so sore. She gently traces around her throat. There's a new bandage there, judging by the fact it wasn't caked in blood anymore. An orderly or nurse must have changed it while she was asleep.

Unexpectedly, Chara bursts through the door with a clipboard in hand. She's cackling, and slams it shut behind her. "I managed to get my hands on your chart, Friskydoodles~ hey, wanna see it? It's kinda interesting."

Frisk jumped back as her companion entered. "How'd you get that…? Did you break into the orderlies' cabinets again?"

"I'm offended that that's the first thing you think of… for your information, I- oh, wait. I did break into the file cabinets again," Chara laughed and tossed the clipboard to her companion, who scrambled forward to catch it before it clattered onto the floor.

Frisk Young

15 years old

Female

unidentified mental condition

Frisk skims through large amounts of text that she already knew. Things like her age, name, blood type, family roots, her 'unidentified' condition. She was quite peculiar in that way; she was a living controversy. No one could what psychosis she had, though it was indisputable that did not have what most people would classify as a "normal" state of mind.

Reading quickly onwards, she doesn't learn much. Just notes on and observations of her various episodes, ranging from the very first, on the second of August, 2013, to now, February 27th, 2016. She's been in this place for three years. It seems to her like she's been stuck in the institution for several eternities, and then some.

Frisk passes her clipboard back to the one who stole it. "There isn't much on it that I didn't know. Why did you take mine, anyway?"

"I just wanted to see how truly psycho you've become," Chara chews thoughtfully on one of her fingernails, considering something. "I guess I would have taken my files instead, but an orderly was coming so I had to get out quick. I didn't want to leave empty handed, and your files were right there, so I took them."

"Fair enough. Just don't let the nurses think that it was me that stole it. Is breakfast being served yet?" Frisk combed through her hair with her fingers. Even though mental patients generally had much more to worry about than looks, whether it be their own or another's, it still felt nice to at least try and be tidy.

"Nah, a lot of the other crazies got drugged up a bit later than us, so they're still sleepin' it off. The day room is open, though."

"What about the medication dispensary? Are the nurses giving those out yet?"

"Are you eager to get your psycho-stoppers? Seriously? They scare away Gaster, and they feel… really strange."

"I just don't want to have another episode…"

"I thought you said last week that the pills don't help?"

"Well, they don't, but at least they calm me down a little bit when they happen. So, is it open or is it not?"

"Yanni offered to give some to me, but I said no. They're gonna try and make me seem crazy so when I talk to the psychiatrist today, he won't believe me that Gaster is actually my best friend in the whole entire world!" To put an emphasis on her statement, Chara spread open her arms.

"Uh, alright. I'm going to go head down and get my medicine. I'll be back upstairs in a few moments," Frisk was not hesitant in trying to end the conversation, excusing herself quickly and hurrying out of the room.

The Other Ideals Mental Health Hospital, though it had multiple stories and numerous wings, had sectioned off areas for different types of patients. The first floor was for patients to visit with family members, to check patients in, and provided sleeping arrangements for orderlies that had to spend days at a time working.

The second floor was where 'tame' patients were housed. It was divided into three sections; the male quarters, the female quarters, and the day room. The day room acted as a great divider between the two sexes' wings; it was there and only there that the two could mingle about as they wished. A nurses' station was set in a corner for dispensing medications to patients.

The third floor was nothing more than a simple cafeteria and many offices, making it a rather bland floor to be on. The fourth floor, however, was much wilder than those other three could ever be. During meals, above the talk amongst her fellow 'floor-mates', Frisk could hear the mad screaming, loud sobbing, and terrifying threatening taking place upstairs. She could remember an orderly named Catherine going up there to hush an extremely disturbed ex-convict, and came back down bleeding and missing an eye. Rumor has it that the patient had broken free of his restraints and had faked taking his medication and went psycho on her.

Frisk shudders, unsettled by the mental image of that nurse, and tries to focus on the flowered, blue wallpaper that was carefully layered on the walls of the hallway. She trails her hand along it, despite the occasional torn bits that scrape against her hand.

"Good morning, honey," A tall, thin, elderly woman with a very circular face greets Frisk and steps in her way. She doesn't recognize her, and assumes that she's a patient that's recently been admitted, based on the semi-vacant look in her eyes and the blue hospital gown.

"Hello, ma'am," Frisk replies with a smile, wondering what psychosis this warm, seemingly kindhearted lady was doing in a mental institution. "If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

The woman cocks her head, still smiling. She leans down to be at Frisk's height. "You've become so polite, Rachel! But please, just stick with grandma! What would you like for breakfast, dear?"

Oh. Frisk realizes that this woman has alzheimer's, and she goes around her without another word, trying to avoid more bad memories of hers. It brought back memories of her mother, who was diagnosed with it while only forty years old. She hopes she won't follow her and will go try and claim another patient as her granddaughter.

Frisk opens one of the sturdy, glossy, wooden doors that leads to the day room. There are only three patients aside from her doing various activities, including squatting on the floor and speaking to people visible from outside, and sprawling across the faded, soft brown couch and watching the television, despite the fact it hadn't been turned on.

The brunette girl goes up to the counter and waits politely for Yanni to set down her book to help her out. "Good morning, Frisk! What brings you here?"

"I came to get my morning medication," she mumbles as the nurse responds only by rummaging around in the cart behind her.

"You've gotten a new prescription from Doctor Nikkolas, yes?" Yanni passes Frisk two cups; one containing water and another containing two pills. Both of them are labeled, "Frisk Young."

"Mhm, I have. Here's to hoping these work. Any side effects I should know about?"

"I'm going to assume that those are regulators for the amount of dopamine that your body is releasing… so, there probably will be a little headache here and there, maybe a little bit of sadness."

Frisk sighs. "Well, I guess it's better than last time," She winces, remembering how awful the side effects of her last medication were. She swallows the pills and takes a swig of water.

"Well, have a nice day!" Yanni smiles brightly, and takes the cups back from Frisk to toss them in the waste basket and resumes reading her book.

Frisk turns away, glancing about. Dilemmas such as this were frequent in this place; having nothing to do. She didn't want to return to her room so she could avoid Chara trying to build a robot, but she also didn't want to remain in the day room with the patients that admittedly, scared her too much to approach.

She snatches one of the Reader's Digests that are littered about all over the facility. Pages that are deemed inappropriate are clipped out, as she notices as she flips through. She sits beside a window, curling her knees to her chest and reading an article about some type of plant that's supposed to cure cancer.

After about twenty minutes, her head pounds. It's not a mild ache, bit instead rough, thick hammers of pain that rush over her in waves, bouncing around on the inside of her skull. She winces and sets the book down, rubbing her head as if that would make it go away.

Frisk's eyes become glued to the opposite wall, and she shivers, cold rushing over her despite the nearly unbearable heat of the summer. She feels pairs of eyes on her, though they remain unseen. Yanni is still entranced by her book, and the other patients are too lost within their own minds to pay her any attention.

"Alphys, why can't she hear me? Why isn't sh-"

"T-turn around, Undyne! We've made a connection! Quickly, say what you need to!"

Frisk convulses, trying to fight these god-forsaken auditory hallucinations down. This time, there is no fog like substance in front of her, and the voices are different. She's glad that she's maintained some consciousness and control over her body. Perhaps this new medicine is working.

"Hey, punk! Think it's funny forgetting about us?!" A rough, female voice practically yells, though an affectionate tone courses through her words.

"U-undyne! Calm down!" There's another voice, nasally and feminine. "She p-probably doesn't know what's going on… we're sorry, F-frisk…"

Frisk feels her heart tug, as if apologetic for those poor hallucinations apologizing to her for scaring her, but she fights off this pity quickly. She doesn't want this to turn into Chara's situation, becoming attached to a hallucination and believing it was a friend.

"We c-can't quite get out of the Underground yet, but we p-promise that all of your friends are going to come help you. We know what h-happened last time, we didn't mean to hurt you… w-we're trying something new this time to get through to you… " The voice's voice cracks and there's a muffled sob.

"Aly… it's okay, come on," The rough voice, suddenly warm and caring, seems to comfort the other. "We'll save her soon enough, you're doing all you can."

"Th-thank you… we'll help you soon, Frisk… you'll be okay…"

Frisk's headache disappears as quickly and abruptly as it had come and she blinks hard. No one seems to be disturbed by her glassy eyes or sudden silence. She pinches the bridge of her nose and groans, tilting her head back against the wall.

So far, there had been a family of three, and two others. These new voices, having recently appeared, seemed attached to each other, in a non-platonic way, like they were lovers.

The lovers and the family of three were all that mattered in this moment; Frisk desperately wanted, no, needed, to figure out why they were all telling her that they'd save her.

Or, at least, what this meant for her precious remnants of sanity.