Undertale.
One-shot
Alone never again.
Ship: Charisk.
Au: Underswap.
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-[Fragment 1: Today and memories of yesterday]-
The sunlight hit his face again, indicating him it had reached up his cusp point, the boy ended up frowning, obviously disgusted for he hated to wake up every single day feeling… lonely.
Yet he deserved it, he wasn't like the other fallen nor was he like her, Asriel had told it to his face even without knowing, minutes before they all left the Underground.
"You know something, Chara? I think Frisk wasn't the greatest person... I wish I've had a friend like you instead"
It hurt him, and it hurt him a lot, the shocked face his successor received upon hearing those words was monumental. Despite the prince not knowing it, he had told Frisk the friendship between the two had been a mistake… right to his face.
It burned his soul: the feelings of guilt, of betrayal… no. It wasn't Azzy who betrayed them, but him. He alone destroyed their brotherhood, their family, their entire world; it was Frisk himself who took them both to the grave with a foolish plan, killing everyone's hopes for a better day, his parents Marriage, and made Toriel take six innocent human lives.
All so he could get revenge on those disgusting humans who called him a demon due to his eyes.
"Over here, Mommy! This place looks pretty!"
Oh, sweet irony, giving him a bigger prove that karma and life in general were merciless: apparently a family had come for a picnic first time in the morning, now that Mount Ebott was safe and he was unlucky enough to hear the child choosing a place to sit. Sleeping on the flowerbed his father used as a tomb had its advantages, despite them… not being his favorites, true they were beautiful, but carried sour memories that even now, especially now left a sour and disgusting taste on his mouth.
That, and the pain in his chest.
Mom…
Inevitably his hand went to his face, right where his blindfold was. Putting his mind to work; his first death had happened around a thousand years ago, many things changed in the surface since then. He didn't like to think about the past, but after everything he had gone through… what he and Chara did, what else could he do?
His mother... his village... his life...
And the why he always wore that damn piece of cloth above his eyes.
.
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It was a long, very long time ago. Enough for the word "city" to be nonexistent; it was all just "villages", nature itself, and some realms.
Enough time for human mentality to be based on hypocrite, disgusting religious beliefs. Even back then, he always used to question himself why did he had to read the so called "sacred texts" and nothing else. It wasn't just tiring; but annoying. He could recite perfectly the travel of the so called Messiah whenever his father questioned him to test the veracity of his readings.
And even after he did prove him right, he never stooped looking at him so… hostilely.
Mother wasn't that different, despite her being the one who should love him the most out of the two.
Everyone, every single one of them gave him that same look with no justification. He had heard stories from children loved by their mothers, he had heard stories of families talking happily about that stupid book with care and love, making it sound as if it was actually fun. But what about him?, what was there to be said about his family life?
Was his home really warm?
"I love you mommy!"
He said once, throwing himself to hug his mother from behind as she cooked lunch that day, it was a simple, childish whim. Because despite everything, he truly loved his parents, because with childhood innocence, something he hated nowadays, came hand in hand with senselessness and blindness.
"GKH"
What came next, by how quick it was, seemed to be a reflex. The sharp pain of an ankle hitting his small tummy. Normally, his mother always ignored his signs of affection, yet this time it was totally different; she answered by hitting him. Why? Precisely because of his own fault, he had taken her by surprise. The child's small body fell backwards a couple of centimeters, landing on his back.
His small hands slowly went to the hit landed, she had kicked him with enough force for his nose to move twice, sobbing while his eyes teared up: looking upwards, rather than a worried expression, all that greeted him was the cold face of the woman that birthed him. The human's brown eyes saw him from above, without even a hint of remorse.
It was as if she was looking at a thing, and not the child she was meant to love.
There was no love, not even a little bit of appreciation: could it even be called an accident? Of course not. Deep inside him, Frisk knew she did it on purpose. Part of him hoped for her to kneel down, to embrace him and caress his belly, using some of her healing magic to make the pain go away, to caress his head, his back, hold him in her arms swearing love and asking for forgiveness… because that's what mothers were meant to do.
That's what every mother supposedly did with their children... yet he lacked such luxury.
"Don't that, ever again"
She didn't even say "please". His lips trembled, unable to comprehend her attitude. Now, finally sobbing, he almost screamed at her for any shown of love, at the very least for her to grab his hand, she was his mother for the love of god! Yet she didn't. She never did anything. The fear, the pain inside his chest and stomach made him desist from trying his luck a second time.
Only then he started to wonder if his mother really loved you. After six long years being not hit nor abused, but ignored and hated, his eyes started to open up. He wasn't loved by his parents, nor anyone in his village. The world, despite all the beautiful colors it had, only gave his poor, innocent soul grey and dead tones.
With parents that didn't love him, a village that just ignored him or gave him disdainful glances alongside overwhelming loneliness, things really couldn't get much worse.
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.
Or so he thought.
"Wake up"
Things could always get worse, that was a lesson he learned the hard way. Especially because first he felt like he reached paradise upon hearing his father's voice, commanding him to get out of his bed, something strange: a luxury. And, for obvious reasons, his mind reminded him almost immediately what day it was when his feet touched the floor.
His birthday.
Had that been his gift? Raising his head to look right into his father's face, his emotionless gaze and serious expression contrasted perfectly with his child's curiousness, filled with happiness and expectancy as he smiled towards him. Almost like a dog, he forgave every single bad action both him and his mother committed against him his entire life.
Because they supposedly loved him enough to do something as simple as to greet him first time in the morning, as long as it came from them he was satisfied.
"Put on your shoes and follow me, make it quick"
His footsteps were loudly as he got out of the room, closing the room behind him, not staying to see his child nodding obediently; the boy ran towards his wardrobe, quickly taking one of his blue sweaters, the one who had only one stripe. For a brief moment he looked at the ceremonial robe they wore every Sunday.
The Village's so called "Formal wear". He silently decided to not take it, simply wanting to obey his father's orders, running towards his home's exit with such speed he almost fell off the stairs. Just as he had predicted, both were waiting for him, turning around to face him. Upon closer inspection, he repented noticing how Mother and Father were wearing the white robe above their everyday outfits.
Should he ask for them to wait for him a little bit to go retrieve his own?... no, them being in a good mood was something quite unusual on its own, he didn't wanted to ruin their day.
"Where are we going?!"
He asked with clear excitement on his voice, stumbling outside the house. Rather than answering, Mother closed the door before she started to walk alongside her husband, Frisk following close behind, silently craving to grab their hands, yet he desisted. His distance wasn't close yet not that far from the two either, his small lips inevitably turned into a bright, shiny smile.
He didn't really care where they would take him.
Spending time with his parents, even if the occasions where they showcased him their love could be counted with less than ten fingers, were valuable enough for him precisely because of that; they were like treasures.
They were the only ones who truly were by his side, at the end of the day. Despite being so early in the morning, the sun was burning hot, causing his body to be covered by the shadows of the two walking in front of him. Inside his chest, simply because they remembered his seventh birthday, he started to feel… no, he wanted to believe this was a new beginning. It was the first time they'd taken him for a walk, after all.
"Ah! Mr and Mrs Rolland! You have arrived, we've been expecting you"
The hopes and dreams of the poor brownhaired kid came crushing down the moment he realized they were at the center of the village. He had assumed the streets were empty precisely because it was so early in the morning, oh how wrong he was: everyone was standing there, reunited town's square. The voice of an old man greeting them, and almost as if they were all ants obeying their queen, everyone turned around to face them... or more like…
To him.
Wearing his cassock with a red cross, the old man's hand held a silver-made cross hanging from his necklace. He was the priest in charge of their church, who, unlike all his parishioners, smiled at him. Frisk felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up as a response, because he had never received one before. Usually, it was always disgust or absolute indifference when it came to him, as if he never existed.
But... right here, right now, he smiled at him… and even as a child, Frisk knew by instinct that something wasn't right. Something didn't add up, why were they all wearing their Sunday clothes? It was Thursday, let alone the fact that-
"Grab him up and bring him here"
Two pair of hands grabbed his arms strongly enough to lift him up against his will. The child of the Rolland marriage squirmed around, terrified as he tried to kick around to free himself, but all he managed was for the hands to tighten up around his arms, to the point it hurt him, the sea of people split up creating a path directly to the small platform their temporary leader was standing on.
"Mom... Dad?!"
He called out, turning around his face to look at both his mother and father in search of support, but he found none. They were standing there, unwavering, uncaring. As the tears started to fall from his face, his head moved in denial, unable to comprehend, not wanting to accept their lack of action. True, his parents never showed him love directly, nor was his family as warm and perfect like others…
Yet he always thought, he always believed they still had a care for him, as small as it was
"PAPA! MAMA!"
That when the time came, they would protect him from all evil. But once his knees touched the wood, forcing him to face everyone who he had ever interacted with or known, every villager that turned their back on him, muttering, closing their doors, the children who ran away rejecting any sort of friendship he ever tried to offer, neither of his parents did anything to intervene and return him to their side…
He felt as if his heart, his very own soul shattered in two.
He couldn't find them anymore.
Among so many people weazzring white... he couldn't find a single trace of his mom and dad. They had always been part of the cold, grey and merciless crowd… they weren't his lights, his stars, nor the angels that they mentioned over and over again in their bible.
"Beloved community! I present myself to all of you with the life and power god has given me to tell you… today, today we'll finally deliver Justice!"
He began, raising his arms as if he was what they would one day call a "Conductor", his followers yelled loudly as their left arm rose up with a fist, clearly in approval. There was not a single one who didn't do it. Even the elders, the teens, children just like him, every. single. one. Did it. Empowered by the spirit of his friends, the old man started to walk in front of the boy, now a shadow covering his face.
His right arm went downwards, as the mood changed instantly to a more somber, darker one. This was the part that would hurt him the most.
"As you all know, men and women of god! Today seven years ago a creature from hell itself arrived into our world! A demon like no other we've ever seen! One who unlike the rest of his kin, lacks the red eyes like all the other wolves dressed as sheep, but instead has something a thousand times worse!"
His index finger pointed towards his disbelieving expression, who's tears had already stained his cheeks. The priest stood in silence, allowing the flames of rage, fury, of hate to burn brighter and harder in the hearts of every member of their small little home. Just as he wanted to, just as they needed. It was only then, after hearing how the wind blew way past them, that he decided to continue.
For he took it as a sign of the earth itself calling out for this boy's punishment.
"A demon of the night… who's eyes are purple. This isn't a "child", but a monster like those who long ago our predecessors vanished underworld, he managed to sneak among ourselves, going as far as to take the appearance of the boy born from the love among Gabriel and Victoria Rolland! Do not let your eyes deceive you, he is NOT human!"
Another collective shout from the locals, this time even louder, more brutal, more barbaric. The first one was praise, to start it all up, but this second time… it was more primitive, less logical. A shiver ran down his spine as his purple eyes finally landed on the faces of his beloved family, among so many unfamiliar faces, his gaze barely managed to find them, because of one key detail.
His mother... his father... they were both crying.
"YOU'RE A MONSTER! DEVIL! DEVIL! DEVIL!"
He barely managed to move his head in time to avoid a stone, that had been thrown at him by a kid. Like a chain reaction, it only took one of them to do it for all the others to follow up, kneeling down searching without a care about the size, as long as they could be used, they would work. His voice finally broke, starting to cry now due to the pain as his body received every single one, while he was being held, they at the very least didn't made him rise his face.
But that didn't made the stoning any less painful.
One after the other they fell above his body with good enough aim for his captors to come out unharmed, nor the Priest who started his so called "Judgment". The burning pain, the blood and the insluts came and went over and over again, as the red liquid started to escape through his wounds, one opened up in his forehead, causing for the blood to cover his entire face, giving him an even more "devious" look.
"GIVE ME MY SON BACK, YOU DAMN DEMON!"
It all made sense when the broken voice of his beloved mother shouted those words as his father kept insulting him. The reason as to why they always rejected him, why everyone turned their backs on him, why no one ever accepted him: for them, he was no human, just as their leader had said… he was nothing but a demon, a creature of the night, and seemingly one of the worst.
His purple eyes, filled to the brim with sadness and hopelessness looked forward in a futile attempt to trigger some compassion in their hearts, some semblance of light, of mercy… but he was met with just rage, rage and even more rejection.
And the indelible smile on his Judge's face.
"Enough, dear Victoria!... I understand the pain you, your husband and all of us have been suffering in recent times! We've been doing our best to cross this poor lamb night after night for six long years, but nothing has worked. In retaliation, his evil has extended itself across our lands threatening our lives: never have we experienced such a devastating famine or had such poor harvests… no doubt, there is nothing we can do to save your child. But in order to protect the future, hopes and dreams of our future generations, we must impede his nightmares and villainy to keep extending themselves."
CLAP CLAP
He clapped twice: causing a third men to walk from the crowd towards them, walking up the stairs, Frisk turned around to face him, noticing how he carried with him a golden bowl and a spoon, kneeling in front of his lord, it was the Priest who grabbed it, raising his arm into the sun, clearly trying to give his actions a divine-vibe.
And it worked. Having the sun behind him did the trick, it caused his followers to look at him in awe and delight.
"Ladies and gentlemen... in front of you and almighty father: we'll rip the eyes off the face of this demon who killed Frisk Rolland, so he can't ever again bring disaster to anywhere nor anyone he gazes upon..."
His sentence seemed to trigger something into their hearts. They shouted, they jumped, they yelled, their arms moved up and down, almost as if, instead of a judgement, they were celebrating. The effect only increased when they saw their priest turned to face the genesis of all their suffering. The purple irises of the only child the Rolland couple had looked at the wrinkled face of the so-called man of god, his heart skipped a beat when he grabbed his chin.
Slowly but surely the spoon started to get closer to his face, shinning due to the sunrays.
"No... NO... ! I AIN'T A DEMON!, I am not!, I AM NOT, I SWEAR! I SWEAR!"
With each word his movement became more desperate, as if it would do anything, but he wasn't being rational. How could he be, in the first place? He tried to stand up, yet the men who had him forced his body to kneel again, this time going as far as to hit his back with their elbows, in a last-ditch effort to look for some sort of mercy he looked right into his eyes, the blood had mixed up with his sweat and tears.
Giving him an even more terrifying look… if it wasn't for the tone of his voice, that is.
"PLEASE BELIEVE ME! I AM NOT A DEMON! PLEASE! PLEASE!"
His voice broke alongside his small, innocent heart.
He had closed his eyes instinctively, yet losing such small advantage due to the pain and emotional damage he was going through. His bloody, tear covered face was an absolute mess, there was no light, no love to be found in a single person in this hell he was raised in, how could they blame him for their bad crops? What had he ever done other than ask for a little bit of kindness from mom and dad? They didn't saw him as one of their own, all because… of his purple eyes?
In such situation, all he could do was sob and continue to repeat the same word, over and over again.
SNIF SNIF SNIF
"Please... believe me... please..."
The sadness and lack of kindness started to have an effect on him, causing his mouth to mutter words that became more and more incomprehensible until all he could do was just sob and cry, which caused the villagers to finally shut up. Was it working? Had they truly open their eyes? They weren't celebrating anymore, quite the contrary.
All that could be heard were Frisk's cries, even the old man had stopped.
…
Even with all his pain, those cries that only a pure-hearted child could produce, nothing changed the fact that their hearts remained the same. Filled with fear, with despise and… uncertainty. This, for them, was the right thing to do.
"MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR BLACKENED SOUL, DEMON WITH HUMAN SKIN"
Yelled the adult, with such a demanding, strength-filled tone it finally shut him up. His grasp on Frisk's chin increased, while the man who was holding his left arm now pulled his hair so there was no intervention, as the spoon grew closer and closer to his face. He could feel it getting inside his right eye socket, making him scream horrifyingly.
His legs moved, kicking the wood under him.
Then it happened.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
The way in which his voice came out after one of his eyes plucked out of his face was almost animalistic. Let alone when he finally lose the second one, it wasn't high pitched scream like the one a seven years old should have, no: he pushed his vocal cords to the limit all because of pain, as if he himself was a wounded animal, it didn't helped to better the demonic-like opinion they all had of him, of course: they had never heard someone scream like that.
He truly was a demon.
Were they even horrified at the act their Cleric committed to begin with? No, for the love of god, of course not! They were shocked and scared because they were finally seeing the true form of the boy, for it was impossible for a human to scream in such way no matter the pain they were going through.
It lasted no longer than two minutes. The begging ceased alongside the screaming ceased, and so did the will and determination the little boy had, who's body was finally let go off so he fell face first into the ground, not even trying to avoid it. His face was now soaked in sweat, blood, tears and snot, heck, even his mouth tasted like metal because of it.
Darkness.
All he could see was darkness.
There was nothing there, not his parents, nor the angry faces, neither their backs or his home. Everything, absolutely everything had been swallowed by the pitch, black void... except for the pain. The pain in his heart, now having infected his face multiplied hundreds of times. Suffering slight spasms, somehow, he still managed to hold onto his consciousness.
Just because he had been blinded, didn't meant he was alone.
The old one's hand grabbed and squeezed the bloodied bowl, admiring the two eyeballs with a sense of satisfaction in his face, before he finally rising up into the sky, perfect position for the sun to bathe it and himself in its warm embrace, somehow, it gave him a sense of relief. As if God was telling him he did the right thing, burying any semblance of doubt he might've gotten after watching him cry so loudly.
And to the villagers?... they felt as if they were all blessed by the world's creator, as if the dark times had finally passed away.
"Now brothers, sisters, as a last act of kindness... let us return this creature to the hell it came from; he'll be taken to the Mount Ebott, either to be accepted by his equals, or die and be buried by them"
Those were his final words, causing a chain reaction: they split up opening a path for him, as they all nodded: grabbing the boy with a blue sweater, starting to drag him across the floor with no resistance whatsoever. They sang. They sang their prayers, their delight, their hopes, thanking god while asking him for forgiveness due to having one of his biggest enemies among them for six long years.
Maybe it was because of the darkness, the sadness or because of how tired he was after his torture…
But Frisk Rolland, now drowned into the endless abyss, ended falling asleep, lulled by the hundreds of voices around him as he was dragged to the mountain were, supposedly monsterkind was sealed five hundreds of years ago. By the time he regained consciousness thanks to the pain, he noticed his back hurt a lot, and that the smell of grass surrounded him.
Despite all their efforts… he survived.
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A long, tired heavy sigh escaped his lips as he decided to stop reminiscing about the past. Like a cruel joke of fate, he had ended up right where his life with the Monsters started, although it wasn't grass but golden flowers caressing his back instead. How could his life be plagued by such irony and disgrace? Based on his own experience, he was doomed to always be haunted because of the poor choices he made.
His soul still hurt, tormenting him… and, even when he tried to, he could never fill up the void his home left in him.
"Damn you... damn you all…"
He blurted out, finally deciding to stand up. He tried to: he really tried to hate his former town whenever he remembered the day they took his eyes, but he just couldn't keep going. There was no more hate, more than likely all their remains were now rotting in hell, but he couldn't even enjoy such victory: yes he was still here and they were not…
But they were right in the end.
He was a god-damn demon, the so called "Ebott's blind devil", that came back from the dead and destroyed the timeline, not even such thing made him feel better, which is why he ended up fulfilling their last deal with her, then they never saw each other again.
The eight fallen, always cheerful, sweet and happy girl who's hands he bathed with the dust of the realm he loved, and the true sister Asriel deserved: Chara Dreemurr, the glue that managed to keep Toriel and Asgore together with the only purpose of raising her, unlike him, who destroyed them.
Both literally and figuratively.
Just like he did the first time he woke up from his slumber, his legs started to take him through the path that went to the Ruin's blue halls, despite having no eyes, he already knew that place like the back of his hand, and honestly, dying to then resurrect as a soulless specter had its benefits. If he could, he would've cried.
Maybe he could've caused way better of an impression on her, anything other than fear.
"Hehehe..."
Temmie wasn't there to welcome him, nor the former King; it had been an entire year since River Person, the last of the monsters, left the Mountain to never come back, so he could clearly hear his laugh echoing through the entire place. She was a total clown, that's why she was such a great friend to Sans and Happstablook, because there was no one else who could make the monsters as happy as her.
Way better than he ever did.
Yes, the ruins had been abandoned for a long time now, but only now Frisk realized that how lonely the place felt. He still remembered it like it was yesterday; how he had seen two versions of the same place. On one hand, he had been on Asgore's shoulders, looking at the civilization that in just one night, loved him so dearly, opening their arms to him without a second thought.
But the second time...
.
.
"What's this place?"
Asked the girl with rosy cheeks, looking upwards to face him. Her ghostly friend caressed his chin for a brief moment, his closed eyelids fixated on the dusty roads, houses and closed shops, his stoicism was able to hide his fascination: this had been the first time he saw "HOME" with his own eyes, the last time he stood in that balcony with the Dreemurr, he was blind.
But now, finally, he could see how it truly looked.
And certainly... it was absolutely horrible.
"My Fath—"
He shut his mouth immediately.
It still wasn't time to open up about his true name, nor his relationship with the golden-haired baker. Seeing his so called "Partner" tilt her head towards her left shoulder in confusion made him think quickly, he needed an excuse as fast as possible.
"My friend"
He corrected himself immediately with a stern voice, trying to convince her. Chara knew he was a ghost, but knew nothing else. Perhaps she could trick her into thinking he knew Asgore when he was a child, that was the only thing he could come up with truth be told, and he hoped, he prayed it worked.
"Used to tell me stories about this place: it was simply called "Home"… the monsters turned it into their… well, home after the humans sealed them down here"
"Ohhhh"
Like the girl she was, her mouth opened up like an "O" as her red eyes shone in excitement upon hearing a bit about the history of these fascinating creatures. She hadn't been in the Underground for more than two days, even if she knew a little bit about her powers to Manipulate the timeline as the "World Master", she still wasn't that interested in exploring outside the Ruins.
Frisk started to think that perhaps, just maybe, this girl fell to die in this place, surrounded by the fatherly love of the former King of Monsterkind.
"Its beautiful... I would've loved to be here before"
Replied the brown-haired lady, playing with the toy knife by making it spin between her fingers, her voice seemed slightly annoyed for she closed one of her eyelids, puffing her cheeks in a cute expression. The former second Prince of monsterkind laughed at the view, his head going from left to right at her tantrum. Whenever she got angry, her expressions gained quite the charm.
"Don't laugh!"
She yelled out, getting angry enough that she ended up grabbing the toy in her hands by the blade, throwing it straight to him… with the predictable result of it going through his chest, getting stuck between two bricks quite far from the floor, much to her horror. Her only way to defend herself had been lost due to her childish rage, all of it happened while the ghostly child kept laughing over and over again at her bad luck.
She spent the rest of the day trying to escalate the wall so she could retrieve the dagger, refusing to use her Save Point to fix such a simple issue, in the end she ended up calling for his Father so he could take advantage of his massive size and give the stupid thing back to her.
.
.
"Really… you were and still are an idiot..."
He smiled, taking his hand to his chest upon remembering how much of a clever, smart brat she was. She asked for help from one of the closest monsters to try and hide from Dad the fact that she had that thing on her pockets, but when it failed, all she could do was ask him instead, with the excuse of training herself in self-defense.
Asgore fell for the trick, of course. Chara was many things, but "murderer" wasn't one of them. After all, she managed to did what he never could.
Unite them all.
The little pacifist took advantage of her endless travels, actively participating and getting into the lives of those that tried to take her soul. She showed genuine interest in everyone's problems, finding a way to better their lives, always with a smile on her face. A simple, yet effective way to show them humanity changed during all the time he spent being dead.
Chara was the future.
Chara was the hopes and dreams of every monster incarnated.
Chara... was better than him in every single aspect.
That's why at first he hated her the most upon seeing how even after achieving the best possible ending, she kept repeating the one she called "Pacifist route" over, and over again. She broke her promise of using her power as World Master only when strictly necessary… and for what? For a sense of self-satisfaction? For boredom? Because she wanted more?
It made no sense to him. It crushed the image he had of her. It took away the meaning of all her actions… and he hated her for it.
WHAM
Rage filled him enough to trigger a physical reaction: his fist landed fiercely on the first thing he could found: a dark-blueish table. Frisk's knuckles made a slight hole in the wood, cracking it and hurting himself in the process. The blood coming out of his skin made him realize he ended up on Dad's home without realizing it. Was it a reflex out of pure nostalgia?
He still remembered the time when all four of them used to sit there, eat Mother's love-filled pies with clumsy movements due to him not knowing how to move properly after losing his eyeballs.
How Asriel always grabbed his hand and guided him everywhere he needed to go, or how Father and Mother instructed him in learning how to read his surroundings little by little with each day.
His mouth contorted into an angry expression as his hands squeezed his head, pulling his hair… he had resentment towards her, because despite everything, she received her eternal happy ending, accompanied by everyone as she left that mountain to never return, taking everything. It was painful, but he also understood… that she deserved happiness the most out of the two.
He never gave anything in return to either the Dreemurrs or Monsterkind in general.
He gave Asriel his soul that day not because he wanted to free them, it was just an excuse. He wanted to burn everything and everyone into the ground, rip the souls out of his human parents and use them to open up the Barrier as a punishment for taking away his innocence, his joy, his life…
His eyes.
What was there to be said about him? He was cruel, despotic, uncaring, lacked any sort of empathy whatsoever… all things Papyrus used to yell at him as he crashed his body against the Judgment Hall's pillars, staining them with his blood.
Snif snif snif
Sobbing was inevitable. Perhaps he may lack eyeballs, but he was still able to cry. He hated to have a soul again, so, so much. The pain, the guilt, the regret, the "if only" he couldn't escape. He couldn't keep dealing with it. So many emotions, so many questions, so many memories, so many bad decisions.
Before at least he was able to pretend to be an emotionless bastard as she explored every single cranny of the mountain, experimenting, reacting, interacting with anyone and anything. He could imagine and, to a certain extent, feel what Chara herself felt as she laughed and practiced gardening with Asgore, made puzzles with Sans, enjoyed Muffet's pastries, cooked with Alphys or sang with Happstablook until her voice ran out...
Her emotions made him feel good, because it was her who was good.
I wish… I had a soul so I could care…
That's how he used to think, having completely forgotten how it felt to have emotions, how his emotions felt. Unlike her, who was a bright, burning sun, he was a disgusting, cold merciless moon that not even he himself could deal with.
"RRRAAARAGH"
Finally losing his mind, his hands ended up summoning his weapon, given to him by the Queen herself to get rid of weeds at their family garden, using it just like a guillotine, he dropped it cutting down the table where he shared so many memories with the Royal trio, splitting it in two with no effort and also managing to cut part of the floor. His chest moved wildly, his breathing was one of desperation, as if he had run a marathon.
Everything always went wrong, everything he did, said, choose or acted upon.
That was something he was good for, other than making everyone around him unhappy: self-sabotaging himself. First he ruined his new life with the Dreemurrs, then he ruined his own vengeance against his peers, then he repeated the same mistake his village did with him, but with Chara instead by taking away her innocence on the Genocide Route, and now that he had obtained a previous version of her soul after recreating the entire world, he wanted to die again to escape his own feelings.
Feelings that made him ruin the house his family raised him in.
"To hell with this!"
His fist closed themselves around the scythe's snath, before letting go off it as his hands wiped away the tears his blindfold didn't catch. Yes, he suffered due to his past actions, and even those he committed today, but as much as he wanted to deny it: his heart craved for a family even now. He wanted to return to Asgore and Toriel, he wanted to find Temmie and scream at Asriel of how much he missed him, of how sorry he was for never being a true brother to him.
He wanted to kneel down in front of Chara and beg for her mercy, for everyone's mercy.
To experience what it felt like to be loved by them, talk with them, god damn it, he even wanted to ask that good-for-nothing chimney for forgiveness.
But how could he? How could he after killing everyone with a smiling glee? When he truly, genuinely enjoyed to drown them in their misery the closer and closer he got to the end, bathing his body and hands in dust?
Frisk Dreemurr, the first fallen, the adoptive child, dragged his weapon behind himself as his legs took him to the basement that would take him to Snowdin. He still felt his sins crawling on his back, no matter how much he tried to ignore them. That emotional weight and mental weight… had this been his original self, of course he wouldn't have given a damn.
It was her fault.
Chara made him take notice of what he had been ignoring for so long: the love these people offered him to, the second chance he had been looking for, and when it came to remembering his first life, he realized of how hardly Toriel, Asgore and Asriel tried to make him come out of his shell, how much they dealt with his abrasiveness and meanness.
Both sides persisted: Asriel loving and treating him like the sibling he always wanted, the king and queen doing their best to teach him about their culture, about forgiveness, about letting go, moving on… meanwhile, all Frisk ever wanted was vengeance, to enact his pain, find any sort of justification to destroy his species, drowning himself in darkness and eventually, dragging his own family with him into it.
He had always been looking into darkness, until she came along to open up his eyelids.
.
.
-[Fragment 2: Truths never told before]-
"Prrrr"
Snowdin's cold breeze hitting his face was a sad statement of how much colder the entire place felt after its inhabitants left. Many had the decency to close their doors and turn off the lights the day they left for the surface, but many others, excited to see the surface for the first time, humans advancements and of course, feel the sun hitting their faces while they looked into the beautiful blue sky, just ran as fast as they could wanting to course through Waterfall, Hotland and the Core without a care in the world.
That place formerly filled with children laughing, adults gathering gifts around the pine, both Asgore and Toriel dressed as "Santa" and "Mrs Claus", nowadays it was nothing but an eerie ghost town, the snow slowly but surely eating it all away due to the lack of attention and care.
The idea alone made the landscape look even more depressing... but it was none other than reality; one day, Snowdin would be swallowed by the snow, and no one would be able to stop it. He recalled that in a previous pacifist timeline, Toriel gave the initiative to abandon the Underground eternally instead of converting it into a touristic attraction.
That way, it would transform into both a memento and a sacred tomb for the six fallen children that sacrificed themselves for them.
But it was his home... his god damn home.
Cliink~... cliiink~... whamp
For a moment, the hinges of some door cracked due to the wind moving it. Many snowflakes were sticking to his skin and clothes, causing him to tremble. The sound of his footsteps on the snow echoed everywhere, thanks to how silent the entire place was, bringing back unpleasant memories of his carnage… and of course, that good-for-nothing chimney.
Papyrus.
His nemesis, his personal judge, his adversary… and the third person he had hurt the most, after Chara and Asriel that is.
YOU'RE THE TYPE OF PERSON WHO'LL NEVER BE HAPPY, AIN'T YOU?
It wasn't that hard for him; he could clearly see the honey-lover looking at him with such a merciless expression as if it was the most natural thing in the world, while his right hand held his almost-finished cigarette, clad in the Judgment Hall's shadows. The Skeleton family's home hadn't been saved from the white cloak's annihilation.
It lacked the Christmas lights, Papyrus' letters and had a massive hole in the roof.
Now it had a post-apocalyptic vibe. Sans, little Gaster and their older brother did the same as everyone else: take everything to the surface, leaving nothing behind except the old wood cabin who desperately fought against the relentless pass of time.
There was still more material to worsen his torture; Muffet's Bakery, still had its characteristic sugary smell that penetrated him to his core. The second prince of monsterkind moved his head to left and right, closing the door behind him to escape from the chilling wind. A far better place to rest would be his warm, dust-filled bed at New Home's yes, but he was undeserving of such privilege.
Homeless in his own kingdom, sleeping anywhere, and of course, the spider's old store turned into one of his multiple hideouts as well.
"... This place could really do with some music"
The first fallen let his body rest against the bar's counter, once he sat on the only stool that remained, causing it to tremble slightly. The only reason it was there was because it broke and nor Muffet neither her spiders ever repaired it, so Frisk decided to fix it himself. His hands caressed the wood slightly while hearing the snow hit the windows.
His body and eyelids felt heavier with each passing second, to the point his head dived right into his arms searching for some comfort.
She created so many memories of being here and talking with everyone, Papyrus included… that stupid, joy-filled girl…
Chara...
Oh, Chara. The only one that kept him company for a brief moment after her battle with Asriel, asking him if he wanted to come with them, the sun being a new beginning for her and the others, while he was covered in shadows of the entrance to the Underground. Those red eyes that would've been a reason to kill her back in his days, filled to the brim with worry when she looked at him, never seeing him as a demon despite the fact that he made her cry while he laughed, forcing her to kill, anyone until he took over at the end.
Frisk wondered… had she forgotten… the only "date" they ever had?
.
.
Suuurp~
Any respectable Bakery had to sell sugar-related sodas, and, no matter how greedy that woman was, her products were always top quality, even if Chara had to waste a massive amount of time selling seeds to Flowey at the Pollen Village back in Waterfall to buy something. The reward was more than enough to make up for it. Frisk, floating next to her on where Paps would usually be, looked at her with his eyelids closed.
Are you sure you don't want anything yourself, Frisk?
Asked for the millionth time his so called successor, talking to him through her thoughts so no one thought her to be crazy. The specter denied using his head, and then looked around. One of Muffet's arms was slowly but surely turning a bunch of dough into a donut. Some other child-like monsters ate at the tables near the exit, and some even danced near the Jukebox.
The purple color of the lights and walls gave the entire place a nightly vibe, that contrasted perfectly with the outside.
Even if her offer was indeed very tempting, he couldn't eat anything due to being dead, and what's more: if he really put his mind into it, he could connect himself to her taste buds to get a grasp of what she was eating.
The pale-skinned girl of course realized how silent her adventure partner was, so she let go off the straw she used to drink from her milkshake, to focus entirely on him. The brown-haired boy rather than turn to face her, looked down into the floor, feeling a little bit of melancholy, to the point one could say he almost seemed sad. She already knew him good enough to know this wasn't usual.
You ok?
Determination the second made her question towards the first, knowing full well he listened to her clearly. The oldest of the Dreemurr Brothers opened up his eyelids a little bit, wanting to focus himself on the purple wood even more. Of course, the eight was unable to notice his actions, or the purple light resting at the depth of his pupils.
[You've ever regret something, Partner?]
His answer took her by surprise. They've done the Pacifist Route for a lot of timelines by that point, so she knew who he was thanks to, of course, everything. Although her battle with Azzy played a big part in it. By then, the Genocide Route wasn't even a thought in either of their heads, so Chara didn't knew what he was talking about.
It intrigued her. Frisk on the other hand, knew exactly what his problems were about.
Without a soul, his rage had disappeared almost entirely, so his head was cold and he could have the luxury of meditating about all his actions in life, and the horrible fate he condemned himself and Asriel to, trapping him inside that stupid Cat/dog thing.
And the fact that seeing his actions from an "outside" perspective, not altered by the hate or resentment, it left him in shock.
What do you mean exactly, Frisk? Is there anything you want to talk about?
No doubt she thought he was talking about Azzy, and she was right indeed. The ghost sighed, finally facing the girl who carried his spirit. The hopeful, sweet and sad tone the prince used to openly tell her he wished he had a friend like her resonated in his ears. He could've said anything…
He could've opened up to her about it… but it would've done no good in the long run. So, instead, his head denied her, not wanting to add more weight to her emotional burden.
[Forget it, it has nothing to do with you]
He put an end to the topic right then and there, crossing his arms with determination. By that point she had started to understand and decipher his reactions, so she immediately knew there would be no point in arguing with him, he wouldn't tell her anything. It would either just anger him more, or cause him to vanish into her soul. Even if he didn't intend to, he already left her wanting to know more about him.
About his feelings, his problems… but no matter what the Eight Fallen did, could or would do, the First would never accept her help.
Maybe that was another reason as to why he caused the Genocide Route in the first place.
.
.
Munch munch munch~
He bit the last remnants of the candy bar he had been eating so far with desperation. As the pieces of his last meal descended through his throat, the child of the kings exited his memories, sitting right where he used to float whenever she came here to fill her stomach with sweet delicacies, or just buy some products for her future battles.
If he saw Muffet ever again, he would have to thank her for crafting her sweets using magic, that's why they lacked expiration date, although… they were all gone now. To his great dismay, he would have to get out to the surface and collect fruit from the Mountain's trees, or hunt animals in order to feed himself from now on.
Sigh
Why am I even doing this for… ?
He thought as he stood up to look up at the door, visiting Waterfall was his next course of action. Did he truly wanted to see his home again? Covered in dust, and bittersweet flavored memories he couldn't enjoy? Or was this entire travel just a way to torture himself, to realize everything he wasted through the years?
Regardless of the motive, Frisk Dreemurr knew himself good enough to know he was too stubborn to stop now. His body, his soul was begging him to keep moving forward, as if he was following in Chara's footsteps on the original timeline: going to Toriel's castle looking for a way home.
His home, where he died and dragged his family into the abyss.
.
.
Splash splash splash~
The small stone he threw bounced off the water three times before it sank to never return. Whether it was because of the Underground reaching its final phase, or because there was no one else to speak to them, the Echo Flowers finally started to whiter away, losing a little bit of their light with each passing day. The once beautiful and shiny blue light emanating from them wasn't there anymore, but at the very least the shiny rocks in the rooftop pretending to be stars still persisted.
It was so beautiful...
No wonder Asriel loved this place the most
The genocidal boy took his hand to the heart-shaped necklace hanging from his neck. "Best friends forever" promised the boy with emerald-colored eyes, even after seeing how rotten his adoptive sibling was on the inside. And he tried. He tried, day after day to be the best brother and friend Frisk always wished for.
Asgore was the loving, warm and caring father Gabriel Rolland never was.
Toriel; the endless sea of love, comprehension and sweetness Victoria should've been. Having a patient gaze, imparting into him her knowledges in gardening, all three of them embraced him into their family, the blonde king cooked and actively searched for his new son's affection, unlike his father who never talked to him more than necessary.
Asriel tried to play with him. To encourage him to draw together, to practice magic together the moment Mom gave him his scythe. Mother woke him up gently and lovingly knocking on their door each morning, while Father cooked all kinds of breakfast for them.
They did their best to try and save him.
Chara did her best too...
.
.
"So... you regret something?"
Eventually, the day came. What route did they do on the previous timeline? He had forgotten after she discovered a way to make Asgore and Alphys become King and grand vizier at the same time, somehow. How did she manage such thing? Chara was finally starting to learn, slowly but surely, how to manipulate people as if they were puppets.
What choices, dialogues and actions could trigger certain outcomes at certain points in time.
[Huh?... what are you talking about?]
He played dumb back then. His successor, who's naked feet were sank in the water after speaking with Happstablook and singing with him, kept looking forward, not focused on anything really, just the scenery, lost in her own thoughts. On his first life, he also learned that time was a heartless bastard in many senses.
Especially because thanks to it, she had finally started to know him way more than he would've preferred.
"I've got a good memory, Frisk. And I know you do as well."
She replied, losing the classic smile she always carried on her face. The World Master, now being serious as she was rarely seen, faced him directly. The specter felt cornered for the first time in ages, and how could he not? Chara, the always happy, smiley and determined girl, who sometimes irritated everyone with her insistence on helping others…
Seemed to be genuinely angry.
"I want to help you like I've done with everyone else. Why don't you let me?"
The brown-haired girl tried to held his hand, obviously being unable to touch his. Who had once been the future of monster and humankind lowered his gaze, despite them being unable to make contact, Chara's fingertips indeed were above the back of his hand, in a poor attempt of reassurance.
When he recalled that moment, that day, he felt bad. On the inside, he would've loved to end it all: finish his facade, scream and cry at her all the paint he went through and he caused to everyone with his actions, of how much it hurt back then, being soulless, and how horrible he felt nowadays.
To tell her his regrets.
How it hurt him that everyone turned their backs on him, and how despite considering the Dreemurrs his family, he couldn't help but miss and wish to have received some love from the man and woman who birthed him into this world.
His mother crying and screaming at him for supposedly taking away her child brought him nightmares he never even knew when they ended, due to his blindness.
The crushing, overwhelming guilt of being the main reason as to why the family that fulfilled all his demands broke in two. They gave him love, care, attention, a warm home… and he threw it all away.
That's how he felt now... but back then...
[DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU GOD-DAMN MANIAC!]
His demand came out of his lungs with such strength it made her jump away instantly, he far surpassed the determination and small amount of rage and bravery the girl managed to built up. The water moved as Chara retreated, despite knowing Frisk was unable to hurt her physically, emotionally speaking he was able to do so.
And that scream...
That animalistic roar.
The boy with blue sweater panted, once again his chest filled itself with the hate he carried from the mistreatment he received in his homeland. How dared she, after so many timelines, openly say she wanted to find a way to save him? How many years had it been since the original pacifist timeline? As good as their memories were… they were slowly but surely starting to forget bits and pieces of it due to the "automatization" of her actions, it became so natural and such a "linear" process, no more discovery, no more effort form Chara, nor advices from Frisk, that their memories simply… discarded it.
Now, after so many years traveling the Underground together, she came to him with an hypocritical "let me help you"?
She took everything from him.
His brother, his throne, his parents, his position as the savior of the Underground, turning him into nothing but the narrator of her story, who used to translate Monsterkind's language whenever she needed it… but now she didn't even needed him for that, after learning it herself at one point.
Always the tool never the protagonist. That's who Frisk had always been, and he despised that feeling of being used by others. Even more if it came from her.
[HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME IN THE FIRST PLACE!]
He finished, getting closer to her and leaning in her direction to impose herself with the help of his voice, making her fall on her butt. She was feeling every single emotion coursing through the remnants of Determination the 1st, for the first time ever since he got trapped inside her soul: Rage, pain, fury, hate, fire, fire fire fire fire, to the point it terrified her. She didn't even knew where she ended up.
Splash
She ended up falling back into the water, which in turn finally caused him to snap out of his anger, realizing what he had done. That bright sunlight dressed in green, who had never cried before, facing any challenge life threw at her with a smile on her face and a determined gaze, who shone like a star in the night… was now on her arms, soaked till the hip.
Her eyes were open, and she was trembling… but… was it because of the cold… or because of him?
Chara had never been so close to crying before, not even in her fight against Temmie after absorbing the six human souls, where the small creature turned into an abomination and everything seemed hopeless… but now, right now, he could see two small drops dangerously coming from her tear ducts.
It had been him... him and him alone who had put Chara in that state, without even being able to land a finger on her.
[... Don't speak to me ever again]
Truthful to his eternal hate from back then… his heart wasn't moved by it. Frisk vanished with his back turned on her, so they wouldn't have to talk to each other even if she knew he was still there.
It wasn't enough. That day, that day alone when he almost made cry the only person who could interact with him, that he managed to find his own determination once again: he decided to make her suffer, in the worst way imaginable, even if it would take him an eternity. Her, Asriel, his parents, his kingdom, everyone would suffer for their sins.
Throwing him away like some trash, forgotten him as if he never existed in the first place.
They would pay…
Everyone would pay.
.
.
"Afff... afff... so hot... "
He always hated Hotland, even as a Ghost.
The constant sound of Lava under his feet, ready to turn him into ashes the moment he jumped, the suffocating steam that made it difficult to breathe, and the freaking sweat coursing through his skin, making his clothes stick to his body as if they were an extra layer of flesh… it angered him more than he normally would be.
He had almost reached home anyway.
How Undyne was able to survive working in this hellhole despite being a fish was a complete mystery to him even now, but what else could you expect from the current Royal scientist? She ended crafting tools to make her life easier, more than likely.
A very sweet and gentle girl, she made mistakes, but at the very least she never tried to destroy the world unlike him.
COUGH COUGH COUGH
Frisk covered his mouth as he coughed, having removed his sweater to use it as a cape in an effort to fight back the heat. It was hard, yes, but nothing was worse than his sweat-covered blindfold pressing itself against his eyelids. The second Prince smiled, knowing the way back by memory… a wrong step, and he could say life goodbye again, experiencing a quick yet painful death way worse than poisoning through Buttercups.
What would it feel like? To fall into the lava?
Many times he had been considering to just… throw himself into the fiery rivers, they would take everything. His Soul, his LOVE, his mind… and maybe, with a little bit of luck, they would give him the warm he'd lost after everyone left.
Always alone; always his fault.
Guards 3 and 4 were nowhere to be found, neither the Vulkins, or Tsunderplane trying to flirt with his Partner. The broken heart of that crazy girl when Chara openly told her she wasn't interested in her, as he laughed, it was the first time he had ever seen a romance bloom and fail so abruptly in so little time.
The fire, the heat... it reminded him to Grillby, and his small establishment that burnt everything that passed through, alongside Napstaton's poor attempts at producing a decent-sounding record.
He had always liked that kind, yet shy DJ; he was humble, him bonding with Undyne enough for her to give him a body and become a famous musician was a stroke of luck. Seeing Napstaton rise slowly but surely to the peak of his career, while the Core's speakers gave their all as he and Chara fought in front of the cameras…
Smiling.
Laughing.
Genuinely enjoying herself...
Everything was so magical and surreal, compared to his present.
POP~
A bubble of lava popped, as his legs took him through the stairs that would take him to the Hotel made in honor of the Musical star. Its lights turned off, its windows opened, empty in its entirety, it was even more depressing than Snowdin. Frisk looked at the elevator, knowing full well it lacked power for even the Core had been turned off.
He still had a long way to go until he reached the Capital.
.
.
-[Fragment 3: Always with you]-
"... Hey, I'm home..."
He said to no one in particular, being greeted by nothingness and the grey, monotone color of his home. The similarities between it and the Ruins had always been astonishing, but cozy. As one would expect, things hadn't changed at all; the entire place was covered in dust due to the lack of care, his legs dragging themselves across the floor cleaned it, until his body fell on the table.
The memories were like ghosts from the past.
Frisk! Do you like this drawing I just made? Its you, me, mom and dad!
His little brother shouted once, filled with excitement as he interrupted him while trying to eat a bowl of cereal. His temperament, always explosive due to being unable to move on, and because of the blindfold on his eyes to hide his eye-sockets, it all brought the worst in him. The human frowned after he let the spoon go, facing the goat violently.
Then he revealed his teeth, obviously furious.
I don't care! I've told you already, all your drawings are crap Asriel! GET OUT!
He answered, going as far as to push the heir to the throne away, not hard enough to make him fall to the floor, but with enough strength to destroy his good mood. The boy with white fur looked back with an expression of sadness, as he nodded silently. Slowly but surely he went away, more than likely searching for some comfort and emotional support from one of his parents, so he wouldn't have to deal with him for the rest of the day. Frisk, on the contrary, couldn't care less.
His hunger was more important than his sibling's non-existent artistic skills.
He never thought about how much pain he caused to Asriel, from Frisk's point of view considering what he had been told: monsters were made of love, so he should just man it up. They adopted him when he was dying, after all, they saved him instead of just letting him die, dealing with him was the Dreemurr's obligation.
If only he hadn't been so cruel... Azzy wasn't saddened because of his attitude, has he had always believed. It wasn't because he screamed at him or called his efforts to stablish a bond with him childish, stupid and immature, telling him to mature almost every single day they lived under the same roof.
No, what broke his, Asgore and Toriel's hearts was seeing a poor child sunk himself in misery, instead of rising towards the light. It was his state what made them suffer, not his actions.
In the end, everything had a limit.
SNIF... SNIF...
He reached it, a long time ago.
The Angel of the Prophecy arrived as they always wanted: Broke the barrier one last time, and took them into a new tomorrow alongside their ambassador… after the Demon made her destroy the world with her own two hands, laughing until his voice ran out.
And thus, he had been abandoned.
Frisk Dreemurr... no, just Frisk, because he was undeserving of his family name rested his head against his hand, feeling the warm skin of his fingers on his forehead and the fabric pressing itself against his closed eyelids. The Purple-eyed demon, knowing he was all alone, decided to return to the only place he would always be welcomed.
Darkness.
The white cloth fell into the ground, imprinted with the spell he memorized thanks to his father. Now being totally blind, he covered his eyes using his hands, as his nose once again moved itself due to the sobbing. There wasn't anyone, anywhere, not a single ray of hope to accompany him.
"I ruined it all... I always ruin EVERYTHING... !"
He cried out, breathing heavily. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry as much as he wanted to. At the end of the day despite all his actions, he had been a small child who had been looking for a loving family, but only nurtured himself with hate until corruption.
And now that he had spent all of it, he was desperately craving for the pain to stop.
The sins. The gazes of rejection, once from the humans: now they would be of monsters as well, Asriel, Father and Mother, he could see them perfectly on his face, with the same expressions of his village, no one getting closer to him because of him having told them the truth. They would know what he did, and how much he enjoyed it. No matter who he once was, he wasn't part of their family anymore.
Even if he knelt down and cried for forgiveness…
They would never love him again, and he had no right to ask for it either.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
His arm couldn't withstand his head anymore, letting it fall, hitting his forehead and part of his nose against the table. A similar position to that one he had back at Muffet's local, although now he wasn't using his arms as pillows. He made his choice. Perhaps he hadn't suffered enough to atone for all of his mistakes…
Maybe he would end up going to hell for them...
But for the first time, he would make the right choice; he would impart justice on himself, using the same weapon he used to kill his family and everyone on his village.
The idea, as cruel as it could sound, seemed to bring some sense of… peace and tranquility into his mind, the more he meditated about it, the more attractive it seemed. Maybe use the flowers to end his life like he did on the first time would be poetic, but it would also be slow… and he couldn't wait anymore.
When night came, the soul on his chest would shatter in two.
The brunette stopped crying, unable to contain a smile, a sincere one this time.
"I guess... My story ends today..."
He muttered, looking upfront where he knew a small pot with a withered golden flower was. He extended his fingers slowly until he felt the petal, thin, dry and wrinkled. The first of the eight fallen children caressed the plant, still carrying some life in it, or so he wanted to believe. It would be his only witness, the last one who would see him alive.
And that, at the very least, was something to be proud of.
"Things don't have to be that way... you know that, don't you Frisk?"
He stood up from his chair so violently it fell. Frisk turned around, kneeling as quickly as he could in a futile effort to find his blindfold once again; his trembling fingers were unsuccessful, only touching the wood once, twice and thrice searching for his precious cloth.
That was it until a pair of hands stopped him, grabbing his own firmly enough to stop his own. Even when he couldn't see anything, he didn't need to: his ears recognized that voice instantly. Just like how she did back then in Waterfall, but now he could perfectly feel her skin: soft, warm and caring, despite employing some strength, true to her nature she was still being gentle.
He knew... she was smiling as well.
"Frisk... stop hiding away from me... please"
He felt like a small child again. Despite being older than her by a couple of centuries, right now she used the fruits and maturity of all her past timelines, reading him like an open book. He couldn't turn invisible nor had he the emotional fortitude to pretend to be angry. How long had she been there? Had she been… waiting for him here, in secret?
He was tired... genuinely tired.
Having rejected light and warmness time and time again, sadness, guilt, regret, and pain finally did the trick, pushing him towards the bright, shiny fire her soul had always been to him.
"Ch... Chara... I… "
The tone of his voice sounded so broken, so… lost. A testament of his despair: his arms surrounded the neck of the chocolate lover, embracing him in search of more warmness, of a way to heal himself. The Eight fallen closed her eyes, hugging him back with no second thought, squeezing him as tightly as she could, not caring if her knees got dirty.
Then she heard him sob. And then she heard him scream.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
He repeated over and over again like a broken record, resting against her shoulder, knowing full well of his hypocrisy. His fingers squeezed her sweater even harder, as if she was an illusion that would vanish at any moment, Asgore and Toriel's third child caressed the prince's hair now, as her smile now mixed up with her arched eyebrows.
Now she could see him clearly, with nothing between the two…
And she would give him all the time he needed.
"Don't worry, partner... I'm here… I would never forget about you… never"
The screams he had been holding on for his entire life finally came out, echoing through the grey town for a long… long time.
But no matter what, the human girl kept her promise and her determination, helping him overcome all the sadness he always wanted to let go off.
.
.
-[Epilogue: A bright future]-
The hours went by until the sun finally started to set, turning the beautiful blue sky into an orange/blueish tone, indicating night was getting closer and closer. Chara, with her gaze still fixated on the Sun, as her thumb kept caressing his hand constantly in an effort to both calm him and let him know she was there, by his side.
After having such an intense emotional breakdown, what he required the most was love and care.
"Can you see anything without your blindfold?"
He denied by moving his head from left to right, now that he wasn't a ghost, he was bound to the rules of the physical world and his own body, having used the soul Chara gave him in the previous timeline to reincarnate in his corpse, so… of course, his eyeballs weren't there anymore indeed.
The third of the Dreemurr children gained a sad expression.
She had feared that answer.
"Even so... even if you don't have any eyes I-... I would like to see what you hide behind your eyelids, Frisk"
She continued to insist, surprising the First fallen. Frisk, who had once again put on the cloth after Chara gave it back to him, opened up his mouth in shock, causing her to smile at how cute he looked. Heck, hearing her laugh made him think she sounded cute. This confirmed all her theories; Frisk always had some light and kindness inside of him.
Even if she hadn't managed to make him tell her his all his past... the fact that he allowed her to comfort him, to believe in her, was more than enough.
That's why she held his hands, looking directly to his face. A reddish tone took over the normally rosy cheeks of the Ambassador, as she felt her soul burning bright with her trait and her heart pounding with emotion, she was determined enough to not let her emotions take over her mind this time.
"Please Frisk... let me see"
He sighed upon seeing how insistent she was, knowing full well there was nothing he could do to make her change her mind, so he just let go, wanting to untie the knot that held the fabric together, holding it. Chara observed attentively the naked face of the person she cared about the most, as she saw his eyelids move.
Slowly, like windows, like doors, they started to open up…
People used to say that the eyes were windows to the soul.
Even if he had no eyeballs, even if he couldn't see anything...
In the endless darkness that had been the life of Frisk Dreemurr, once Frisk Rolland, two small purple lights persisted from back then, refusing to die off. He wasn't that different from the skeleton brothers, but no doubt, they reflected all the emotions coursing through his soul, he couldn't see through them.
But even so... they were his.
"Well?... I'm hideous, aren't I?"
His self-esteem dropped immensely, not feeling her move or react at all. However, all doubt he could've had disappeared the moment he felt how his partner's hands rested on his shoulders, pulling him towards her without thinking.
Chu~
A sweet, warm chocolate-like taste that accompanied a wet sensation on his lips shocked him to the point he froze like a statue. The prince closed his eye-sockets one last time, gathering enough courage to hug back the Eight fallen. Chara, happy to know her feelings were reciprocated, went even further: her arms embraced the neck of her predecessor, and he held her close to his chest in return.
Right there in front of the sunset, where she contemplated alongside all her new friends their new future on the Surface one year ago…
The first fallen, for the first time, he could clearly see the bright future life had in store for him.
And he had to admit... it was the warmest, brightest light he had ever seen. There was no need to compare her with the sun, it would even be called offensive. There, between his arms, was the only light he would ever need to be happy.
As long as Chara was with him… as long as his partner stood by his side... he would never be alone.
The end.