Chapter 38

"Concentrate."

"I am concentrating."

"No, you're concentrating so hard on concentrating that you're forgetting to actually concentrate."

"You need to back up and give me space."

"We can't touch each other. I can't even breathe the air you do. Stripes, you have plenty of space."

Opening her eyes, Frisk glared at Chara. He narrowed his eyes in return. Both sat facing each other at the foot of Frisk's bed. After returning to her room just minutes after surviving an avalanche of production equipment, Frisk listened to Chara as he explained the true extent of what had happened. Even now his words still played in the back of her mind.

"You're a wizard, or a magician, as is the proper title," Chara had explained while Frisk prepared for bed. "You can use magic."

"But humans can't use magic," Frisk lamely argued from the other side of the closet door. Instead of changing into her nightgown, Frisk held the ring in her palm and studied it.

"No, humans can use magic. We just can't express ourselves with magic of our own. In order for humans to use magic, we need an outside source. The crystal in that ring is that outside source."

Frisk hesitated before asking, "Can all humans use magic?"

Hesitating longer than Frisk, Chara answered, "No. Most humans can't use magic at all. Only humans with powerful souls can connect with the magic in these items. Souls like mine. Souls like yours."

"You were a magician, too." There was no need to phrase it like a question.

"The term the people from my village on the surface used was 'demon' . . ."

When she had changed, Frisk emerged from the closet and gently set the ring down.

"If you're going to carry that around, it's important you learn to control the magic within," Chara warned. "You're fortunate a shield materialized when those items fell."

"What could have happened instead?"

"A burst of energy destroying everything in its path."

"Has that happened before?"

"Once, when I began learning to control the magic. I hurt Asriel badly another time. It was enough to make me throw away the ring had he not talked me out of it."

"Okay." Frisk nodded to herself. "What's the first lesson?"

Before Chara could begin to teach Frisk the basics, she had to learn to see her soul. They spent an hour the night before trying to get a glimpse of Frisk's soul to no avail. They tried again first thing that morning with no success, and now they tried after Frisk's morning workout. Gritting her teeth, Frisk buried her face into her hands.

"This is useless," she growled into her still sweaty palms.

"It's difficult, not useless," Chara gently corrected.

"Why is it so important I see my soul, anyway?"

"You need to know what your soul trait is before you begin learning. All these traits have different strengths and weaknesses, and if you're to learn magic properly, you need to have a basic understanding of what will come naturally and what will take time and effort. You wouldn't try learning a difficult subject without first taking lessons on the basics, wouldn't you?"

Huffing, Frisk pulled her face out of her hands and said, "You're right. You're right."

"Of course, I'm right," Chara deadpanned. "I'm always right. Except when I'm wrong."

Frisk rolled her eyes.

"You will figure it out sooner or later," Chara promised, getting off the bed. "I struggled a lot seeing my own soul, even after I had been using magic for years. Oddly enough, I never had any issues seeing someone else's soul."

"Wait, you can see someone else's soul?!" Frisk exclaimed.

"As well as their attack and defense, yes."

"Why are you having me see my own when you can just tell me what my trait is?"

"That wouldn't be the proper way to learn now, would it?" Chara grinned. "Besides, I haven't checked your soul at all. I never cared until last night. Now I want to find out the same time you do. That way, we both get to be surprised."

Crossing her arms, Frisk narrowed her eyes and asked, "And why would it be a surprise?"

"I'm expecting to see a blue or purple soul so much anything else would be a surprise," Chara answered.

"And you can still see souls, despite being . . . ?"

"Dead? Oh, yeah. I checked Papyrus and Undyne out of curiosity when you were fighting them to see what your odds of survival were."

"And you didn't tell me any of this before why?"

Chara shrugged. "You never asked. Look, we'll try again later. Right now, you have to get ready so you can meet Mettaton and have him tell you what your second trial is."

"We're reenacting a scene from an old play?" Miss Frisk Fox questioned, brows furrowed, as she studied the script to one of Mettaton's greatest works of art, Oreo and Baguette. The stage in which they were to perform was being set up around them. Soon his costume designers would arrive to begin fitting him and Ms. Fox for the show.

"Not an old play, gorgeous. A classic!" Mettaton exclaimed, hiding his frustration. It was an irritation already just looking at her, but her lack of culture really made keeping a smile on his face a challenge.

Ms. Fox flipped through the pages to read some of the lines. It was slight, but the corners of her mouth rose a little. The absolute nerve of some people.

"Is something funny, darling?" Mettaton asked.

"Uh? Oh, no. Nothing at all," Ms. Fox answered, flipping the script book closed. It was the weirdest tick. Ms. Fox constantly kept flicking her gaze to the side as if she expected someone to be there before returning her attention to whomever she spoke.

"You were about to laugh," Mettaton pointed out.

That tick again. "I'm just impressed by such . . . unique writing. An actor, cook, and playwright: you truly are talented, Mettaton."

Grinning, Mettaton used his pointer finger to lift Ms. Fox's chin up so they were making direct eye contact. Her brown orbs sparkled in the stage lights. Her pulse quickened at his touch.

"Normally, flattery will get you everywhere," he whispered through the pounding of hammers and grunting of monsters putting up set pieces, "but you don't fool me. There's something . . . off about you, Ms. Fox. The question is what."

"I'm a human," she reminded him just as quietly. "In a monster world, there's plenty that's off about me."

"No, there's something else." Mettaton leaned closer. "What are you hiding?"

Ms. Fox smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Before Mettaton could respond, Muffet's voice said, "I got your order, love."

"Thank you, My Heart," Mettaton said, dropping Ms. Fox's chin and turning to his lover. While he accepted his French vanilla and caramel cappuccino with nonfat milk and topped with cinnamon – his favorite order – Muffet handed another cup to the human. "You picked up an order for Ms. Fox as well?"

Muffet rolled her eyes. "I'm the queen of the spiders, not your errand girl. One of my servants picked the orders up. Besides, you're having the poor human star in your show before delivering it to King Asgore so he can take its soul. Letting it enjoy a coffee is the least I can do to lessen the suffering." To Ms. Fox, "Is the order correct, dearie? A hot hazelnut latte?"

"It's perfect, thank you," Ms. Fox replied. The thanks left Muffet speechless – only Mettaton was allowed to leave Muffet speechless – giving Ms. Fox the opportunity to add, "And, uh, I'm not an it."

"Well, you're going to have to settle," Muffet replied, recomposing herself. "You're performing a declaration of love scene tonight with my lover. Now, I know it's all an act and I have no reason to feel threatened, but the best way I can handle this situation is to not accept you as a fellow female. If 'it' is too rude, I can refer to you as 'them' if you like."

Pinching her brows together, Ms. Fox said, "But 'them' is plural. It would be grammatically incorrect to—"

"It then, dearie?"

"Them is fine." Turning to Mettaton, Frisk held up the script and said, "I'm, uh, going to study my lines backstage."

After Ms. Fox walked away, Mettaton said to Muffet, "There's no reason this human should still be alive. First she succeeds in answering all my questions correctly – even the impossible ones, might I add! – then she beats me in my own cooking show and somehow manages to not be crushed that same night when I sent one of the interns through the vents to knock over the heavy equipment."

"Wait," Muffet furrowed her brows, "you're trying to kill your special guest on this show? The show you created to celebrate our getting the last human soul and to raise your ratings?"

"'Failing' is a better word than 'trying' at this point." Mettaton took a sip of his coffee. "Nothing sparks attention and controversy like a death on set. Oh, people would be talking about it for weeks! And I would be the heartbroken host who can't understand how such a tragedy could happen on my watch. In tears I would deliver her soul to King Asgore, and all Underground would weep of heartbreak and joy as through Ms. Fox's soul the barrier is shattered. Only Ms. Fox has yet to do her part and die already!"

Patting Mettaton's shoulder, Muffet soothed, "There, there, my love. There's still time to arrange an 'accident.' Only . . . why didn't you tell me this was your ultimate plan?"

"I couldn't ruin the surprise." When Muffet bit her lower lip, Mettaton asked, "What did you do?"

Muffet didn't break eye contact as she answered, "I invited King Asgore to come watch the show live. He'll be here by tonight in time for the play."

"Why would you go behind my back to do such a thing? You know I planned to personally deliver the human's soul myself."

"I don't trust the human's passive behavior, love. Mew Mew told me that they were a very vicious fighter when they crossed paths back in the Snowdin Forest. What if they turned on you? I can't risk what may or may not happen." A sigh. "Look, there's still a way to make this work. I just want King Asgore nearby in case the human acts up and we have to put them down sooner than planned. Is that so wrong?"

"I suppose a safety net isn't the worst thing," Mettaton admitted, "but next time, don't do these sort of things behind my back."

"Only if you promise to not withhold your plans from me," Muffet countered.

They maintained eye contact for a moment before Mettaton exhaled and said, "Fine. No more surprises. Now, my love, will you help me with my costume?"

"We're going on in ten!" a producer shouted as monsters scurried about making absolutely certain everything was in its place.

Hair decorated with flowers and makeup done to make her look almost like a doll, Frisk wrung her fingers as she stood behind the curtains. Chara approached after searching the set in case of anything Frisk needed to look out for, such as a trap door not properly closed or a light that might fall from the ceiling. After the day before, Frisk concluded Mettaton had no intentions of playing fair.

"Any reasons to believe that there will be any foul play tonight?" Frisk asked quietly as Chara stopped beside her. He answered by shaking his head. "Everything's okay then? There's nothing to worry about?"

"Well, Asgore just arrived," Chara said, speaking softly even though only Frisk could hear him. "If Mettaton had something planned tonight, he must have changed his mind to keep tonight's performance as perfect as possible for the king."

"Then I suppose all that's left is for me to be as convincing as possible," Frisk concluded. She peeked through the curtains but couldn't make out faces in the crowd. "I have to get half the theater sobbing during my 'proclamation of love.' How am I supposed to do that when I'm confessing to Mettaton?"

"It's not a real confession."

"But I have to convince everyone I'm deeply, desperately in love with someone I can never be with. How am I supposed to do that?"

"Have you ever been in love before?"

Frisk squeezed her fingers a little too tightly. "I can't say that I have."

"Well, there goes my suggesting you pretend you're confessing to that person."

"Right, stupid me not having stupid feelings." Frisk cocked her head to the side. "How about you? Have you ever been in love?"

"Never."

"Never?"

"It was something I didn't care to think about. Truth be told, I outright refused to think about it. Asriel used to say it would take me one hundred years to find a girl I could possibly like."

"Did you . . . not want to be with a monster?"

"What?" Chara furrowed his brows. "No. My family was made up of monsters, Stripes. I would be the first person to say monsters and humans can be together. If I met a monster I really liked, I don't think my being human would have been a problem."

"Sorry, that was an insensitive question. I was only curious."

"Well, now it's your turn. Would you be with a monster?"

Frisk bit her lower lip before she stated, "Of course. Being raised monster, I don't think I would ever want to be with a human, if anyone at all. We would just be too different for each other, wouldn't you think?"

Silence hung in the air for a minute. The five-minute warning was called. Frisk and Chara stared at each other, their eyes locked.

Chara was the first to break away. With a chuckle, he said, "If you ever change your mind, well, you're going to make some monster really happy and really frustrated both at the same time one day."

"And I'm sure you will find a nice ghost girl who will have the superpower to tolerate you," Frisk replied. Somehow, what should have been a light moment felt heavy. Despite his attempts at being playful, Chara still looked downcast. "Chara, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie to me. Something's bothering you. I can tell." When Chara didn't reply, instead choosing to stare at the curtain as if he could see the audience beyond it, Frisk whispered, "Is it Asgore?"

Nodding was Chara's only response.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"My execution."

Words were lost on Frisk. Her chest ached as she struggled to imagine what Chara was going through. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but it would be a useless act. Their fingers would pass through each other without the faintest form of touch. Even though it appeared Chara stood before her, she would truly be grasping at air.

"Enough talking to yourself, Ms. Fox!" one of the producers snapped as he began pushing her away. "Into positions, please. We will be going live any second now."

"Leave it to Mettaton to pick the lamest trials," Mew Mew said before picking up some noodles with her chopsticks and bringing it to her mouth. After she swallowed, she added, "You know what I would love? Both donning jetpacks and racing through the entirety of Waterfall, or perhaps a sword fight to the death. Instead, Mettaton has to have he and the human perform a scene from his originally one-monster play Oreo and Baguette."

"Isn't it appropriate considering it's about the forbidden love between a monster and a human?" Sans wasn't really interested in the play, but he at least got to see Frisk. Although he didn't know if that gratefulness would be washed away by the cringe lines she was no doubt going to spill.

"Especially since those two aren't even close to 'love,' yeah, I say it is." Mew Mew set her empty container down. "If she's a bad actress, the audience gets to throw rotten tomatoes at her. What I wouldn't give to be there in person to a play like that!"

Instead of responding, Sans turned his attention back to the computer. Earlier that day, he found a series of webs he began to unravel. Sans hoped that if he could untangle the mess, he would be that much closer to correcting the Core's internal temperature. Time was quickly running out. It was already sweltering in the main room, and he and Mew Mew remained dressed despite the heat out of pure stubbornness to not be half-dressed with the other around.

"Hey," Mew Mew called, "don't you plan on actually watching the program?"

"We're running out of time. I shouldn't waste a second."

"Not even to see your human?"

"She's not my human," Sans replied, but he knew what the truth was.

He didn't want to see her spouting such lovey-dovey nonsense to another, even if it was all just an act.

Frisk didn't really listen to Mettaton. After hours of rehearsal earlier that day, it was easier than it should have been to tune his voice out. Instead she thought through his lines to keep track when to say hers. However, she needed to do more than recite her lines. She needed to convince the audience of them.

It was either that or have rotten tomatoes thrown at her, and she had no plans to experience that level of shame.

To act desperate took little pretending, her situation considered. To feign depression was no challenge. Yet to declare love, especially one she didn't feel, would take imagination.

Frisk knew she wasn't convincing. The producers commented as much during practice. Only now she had to sell this performance to an audience who mattered.

Chara stood next to Mettaton. This was something they agreed on in advance in case Mettaton had more malicious plans up his sleeves. If Chara noticed anything off, he could signal to Frisk to stop acting and get to safety.

It also helped that she could look at him and not the robot who wanted her soul. Chara wasn't her biggest fan either, but Frisk was more than used to his presence. Somehow, in this situation, she was even growing used to their becoming something more than two people who couldn't tolerate each other.

Chara was becoming an ally. He was becoming a partner. They were becoming . . . friends.

I want it to last, Frisk thought as her time to recite her lines came. She wanted to become friends with Chara. More than that, she wanted them to stay friends.

"Oh, Oreo, where art thou, Oreo?" Frisk recited, pouring as much emotion she could into her voice. Although she harbored no romantic feelings to convey, there was still a desire and longing from which she could draw.

"My love for you is deeper than an ocean.
Who knows the depths of the waters?
My love for you burns hotter than a fire.
Who dares touches the flames?

"What I wouldn't cast aside to rush towards you.
What I wouldn't give to spend every moment beside you.
Why must fate keep us apart?
Why must our love been destined for ruin before it could truly blossom?"

Thinking of Chara's burdens and thinking of her own, Frisk let the emotions flow through her. In the moment she realized to not focus on the words she needed to say, but what feelings she wanted to convey. Her audience didn't care what she said if she couldn't convince them of their meaning.

"Alas! You are a monster,
And I am a human.
So different, but so alike.
Why can't the world see love has no barriers?"

I want Mom, Frisk began to think as she said her lines. I want Sans. I want Papyrus and Undyne. I want Alice to give me a tight hug. I want Mon to call me a crybaby for getting so emotional. I want everything to go back to the way it was.

Frisk didn't realize she cried until tears began dripping from her chin and splashing onto her hand as she gripped the "balcony" railing.

"I dream of a world
In which monsterkind and mankind
Can live side-by-side
In peace and in love.

"If I could recreate the world
Our races would be like family.
As brothers and sisters we would stand,
Hand in hand, watching the sunset."

Frisk mentally added to the list. I want to live in a world where everyone can be happy, Chara isn't burdened by his past, and I'm not dreading the unknown future. That is the world I wish I could create.

"Geez, she's really selling it," Mew Mew commented while Sans had his face buried in his hands. "Are you sure you don't want to watch?"

"I don't think I can take seeing her cry anymore than I can handle hearing it."

"Are you kidding? It's all just an act."

Sans didn't respond. This wasn't just an act. This was a girl who harbored so much hurt for so long that it finally came out in front of the entire Underground on live television.

The least Sans could do was allow her some form of privacy.

"What's wrong?" Chara knelt beside Frisk, but she didn't answer. After the curtains closed, the locket dragged him closer, and he walked the rest of the way to find her sobbing on the chair she was forced to sit on when her hair and makeup were being done. "Stripes, talk to me."

"I want Mom," Frisk hiccupped before she resumed sobbing.

Right. Chara said nothing more as Frisk continued to cry. There was nothing he could do but stand beside her.

Her situation forced Frisk to postpone mourning until she could get somewhere safe. For so long, Frisk grieved by trying to honor Toriel's dying wish. Now, as Frisk questioned if leaving was what she really wanted, her grieving processed came to a halt. Now pushed aside feelings were rising up and overflowing. How Frisk managed to hold it together for so long, Chara could never guess.

"Oh, my gawsh, gurl, that was amazing!" exclaimed the large, purple cat monster who did Frisk's makeup. When she realized Frisk was still crying, she said, "Hey, it's okay. Nobody's gonna throw tomatoes at you. Good thing, too. I worked too hard on your hair just for you to get rotten fruit in it!"

"I'm sorry." Frisk quickly wiped her face, stopped when the monster scolded her, and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief the monster gave her. "I guess I just got a little too in character."

"I can't blame you. Mettaton is so dreamy," the monster said, missing Frisk's point. "Oh, my gawsh, I heard the king was bawling like a baby back there!"

Asgore was crying? Chara furrowed his brows as he listened to this monster go on about how the king totally lost it when "Baguette" went on about wanting a world in which humans and monsters lived in peace. Sounds like Father, all right. . . .

After he thought that, Chara realized how he had over the years subconsciously convinced himself Asgore the king and Asgore his adopted father were two different people. It was easy to hate a man who killed him out of rage over the death of his biological son. Yet it was extremely difficult to blame a man who was so consumed by grief and betrayal he might not have seen any other options.

"It was the dream of the Underground once, for monsters and humans to live in peace," the monster went on to say, sitting across from Frisk. "The reason Oreo and Baguette is one of the more popular of Mettaton's plays is because it captures that old hope we once had."

"Then that all changed when the princes died," Frisk whispered, and Chara flinched. Fortunately, he stood behind Frisk so she didn't see his reaction.

"Our grandparents and great-grandparents believed the human prince was a glimpse of humanity's future with monsters," the cat replied just as quietly, ears perked possibly in case of eavesdroppers. "If a human could grow up with a monster and love him like a brother, perhaps man's children could do the same with ours one day. Then that human child grew up and showed everyone that humans were never to be trusted. All they ever do is take everything away from us."

"That's why my soul is going to be taken from me," Frisk stated.

The monster blinked as if she just remembered she was talking with a human.

Frisk spared the monster from replying. "How does Oreo and Baguette end? My script only covered that confession scene."

"It ends with both Oreo and Baguette dying and monsters and humans warring for all eternity." The monster looked around, seeming to search for some escape from the now awkward conversation.

"And when my soul is used to break the barrier," Frisk pressed, "what does King Asgore plan to do with the humans on the surface?"

Unable to find a way out, the monster replied, "He plans to wage war on humanity."

Frisk, or at least the back of her head and shoulders, didn't seem surprised. Not that it should have come as a surprise. She already knew this.

Standing from her chair, Frisk told the monster, "Thank you so much for doing my hair and makeup tonight. It's beautiful."

The monster blinked then smiled. "It was no problem, gurl. If you ever need another makeup artist, give me a ring, kay?"

"I wouldn't dream of anyone else so much as trying."

After they bade each other a good night, Frisk and the monster went their separate ways. Chara followed silently behind. Neither spoke as Frisk was escorted back to her room.

Mettaton stopped Frisk and her guards halfway up the stairs. His makeup was still on, but it did nothing to hide the ugly look on his face.

"How did you manage to pull off such a convincing show when you spent all day unable to act during the rehearsal?" he asked.

Shrugging, Frisk answered, "I suppose I was just saving my best performance for the real thing. I heard King Asgore liked it."

Chara did not like the look Mettaton gave Frisk. "I suppose I shouldn't have underestimated a human's acting skills. Your victory is my fault. Anyway, darling, have you decided on your second wish?"

"I need a moment to think about it."

"You have until midnight to decide."

"Send someone in a couple hours. My mind will be made up by then."

"Very well. Oh, and Ms. Fox, tomorrow's trial is dancing."

"Dancing? What kind of dancing?"

Grinning, Mettaton said, "I can't ruin the surprise anymore than I have already now, can I? Anyway, good night, Ms. Fox. Pleasant dreams."

When they had returned to Frisk's room and she had changed and washed off the makeup, Frisk began digging through her pack. She took things out, inspected them for half a moment, and set them aside in two separate piles. After her pack was emptied, Frisk put only the items from one pile back and left the rest on her nightstand.

"What are you planning?" Chara asked as he peered over her shoulder.

"I'm going to use my second wish to have my stuff sent to Sans. Since he was captured too, Mettaton must know where he is, or at least knows someone who does," Frisk answered. Then, as if forcing the words out, "You're going too."

Chara took a second to process what she said. "Wait, you're sending me away? Stripes, I thought I was helping you. Did I do somethi—"

"You are helping me," Frisk interrupted, "but you would help me a lot more if you were with Sans. I don't know where he is or what they're doing to him, but . . . the last trial is tomorrow, and I don't know how things are going to go. While I'm stuck here, I want to think you two can think of something to end this whole mess. Maybe it's Sans's turn to use your help, or maybe he doesn't know where I am and needs you to tell him. Either way, I need you two together. I don't know what else to do."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Chara asked carefully.

"Good idea or bad, it's all I have," Frisk answered.

"What if you die?"

"The day will reset. I won't stay dead, you know."

"But what if you're stuck in this loop of dying and resetting again, and there's nothing Sans and I can do to stop it?"

"If you can't stop it with Sans, then you can't stop it with me." Frisk chewed her lower lip. "I'll find a way. I know I will. If I can overcome deathlust, there's no reason I can't overcome whatever Mettaton has planned."

For a moment, Chara was at a loss for words. He watched as Frisk set her pack on her vanity before gripping the back of her chair. Her knuckles turned white at how hard she clutched the seat.

"I do not want to leave your side," Chara finally confessed, "but if this is truly the best I can do for you . . ."

"I just hope I'm not wrong," Frisk muttered. "I don't doubt you two would come to my rescue, but I don't know anything else. What about the Core and all of those evacuation announcements? Is it going to explode soon? Who's doing something about it?"

"Look, it's not up to you to fix everything," Chara replied, moving to stand beside her. "You focus on staying alive, and Sans and I will do what we can to get you out of this mess, assuming he's not already tied up in his own."

"Hopefully he isn't."

"I'll help him any way I can if he is."

"Thanks, Chara." Frisk smiled at him, and Chara wished he could freeze frame the moment to keep forever.

"Stripes," Chara hesitated before asking, "is there anything else I can do for you before you use your second wish?"

"Well," Frisk answered slowly, "I don't suppose you know how to dance?"

"Of course, I do."

"Wait, really?"

"I was raised as a prince, remember?"

"I didn't think dancing was a part of monster royalty culture. Don't tell me, you know how to ballroom dance."

"Yes, but more from a genuine desire to learn than as a royal necessity."

Frisk shook her head. "I don't believe it."

"You better believe it," Chara countered. He offered his hands. "Here, let me teach you."

"Won't it be hard since we can't touch each other?"

"Considering you can't step on my foot, I think it ultimately works out."

As Chara talked to Frisk about positioning of her hands and feet and walked her through the motions, he found himself dreading a lot of things. He dreaded how they had to hold their hands up to grasp nothing, and he dreaded for when the moment would end. Most of all, he dreaded that he didn't have someone like her when he was still alive.

Chara could never tell his family what he did, because it was always meant to end with the inevitable suffering that finally came. Those who did know treated Chara as a wild animal that would snap at any second if poked the wrong way. Either he hid part of himself or wasn't a person, all based on with whom he surrounded himself.

Perhaps if Chara had someone who knew his worst sins but still treated him as a person deserving of acceptance, he would have taken a different path before things went as far as they did. Asriel could have been that person, but Chara never gave him the chance to prove himself either way. Frisk and even Sans may have been those people now, but, Chara thought bitterly, he didn't know how different things would be if he was capable of physically hurting them.

It seemed no matter how he looked at it, things were destined to end the way they did.

"Chara, what's wrong?" Frisk asked, her brown eyes studying him. This was the second time she asked that night. There was so much wrong, he could never begin to tell her.

"Nothing," Chara answered, unable to maintain eye contact. "You're a pretty decent dancer."

"You only say that because you can't feel me stomping through your toes."

"True."

After they had gone through the motions enough times for Frisk to get the hang of it, they stepped away from each other. For dramatic effect, Chara bowed. Frisk smiled and curtsied, her attempt so pathetic Chara couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm not graceful," Frisk softly laughed as she stumbled over her feet again.

"You're a better fighter than dancer, that's for sure."

"No, I'm not good at fighting. I'm good at dodging. There's a difference."

Chara didn't respond. He watched Frisk tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear – it was starting to grow out again – and chew her lower lip. When she spoke, the words were soft and gentle.

"You don't have to lie to me, you know. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but Chara . . . don't tell me that nothing's wrong when something is. If we're going to be friends, you're going to have to trust me just as I'm going to have to trust you. It's only fair."

"I trust you," Chara reflexively replied. Then, "I mean, I'm learning to trust you. Putting my faith in others isn't something I'm used to doing. For so long, the only person I could ever truly count on was myself."

Whatever Frisk was going to say in response was lost in the moment when a knock came at the door. The time for her to express her second wish had come.

"Stay determined, Stripes," Chara told Frisk, eyes locked onto hers. "No matter what happens, stay determined."

Frisk had her own order to give before removing the locket. "Only if you don't keep me waiting. Now, hurry up and save me."