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[Does it matter? Anger, they know, is bad. Do they have the right to be sad if this is what they deserve? They fight with Frisk, they say they're relieved Frisk got angry, but they cannot begin to articulate why. They still don't know if they're encouraging something wrong.]

It matters to me.

[Whether that makes it important or good or... whatever, they're not so sure.]

We're the ones with the special power. The first bit of guidance this world supplied to me... you understand it, do you not?

[Maybe it would hurt to admit it to anyone else. Chara...Chara's their friend. Chara knows what it's like to be in their head more than anyone. Ha, literally. It matters to them. It matters to them if Frisk is happy or sad or dying or dead, even if they'll still insist that nothing really matters, except when it does.]

Wouldn't this have happened anyway, eventually? Any one of the monsters from our world - they could've all been from one of those times. They could've all hated me, and they'd've all been right to.

[It hurts.

It's supposed to.]

You have your mom back. That's what's important.

That doesn't mean...

[They're supposed to be good with words. Always talking. Persuasive and cunning. Why are they struggling so much now?]

At least they'd have hated us both.

[That's not comforting.]

You... you missed her, not me. You're supposed to have someone safe too.

...Nobody else really knows what it was like when we were... us. If we both told her that I had total control, and you couldn't do anything... she'd believe it, maybe.

That's not true, though.

[Throwing Chara under the bus for the sake of pretending that everything's okay isn't a viable option either. They're not willing to pretend even to themselves that they can pin all the bad on Chara, that the Frisk they present to the world is always perfect and never regressed due to their own curiosity. That would be a lie.]

...it wouldn't work, anyway. She saw me cut her down. That doesn't just go away. You know that.

[For the same reason Sans had to ask before giving them a hug. The same reason they shudder at the memories of Papyrus's head leaving his body, or Undyne's eye flashing with a silvery spear-shaped light.]

Yeah. I know.

[Subdued, a little defeated. They... don't know what trying looks like, in this case. What they should be doing. They want to point out that they're prepared to suffer, that they've always accepted having nothing and nobody, that they practically revel in it. That it's okay if it's them. They've already erased themselves, right?

But... it's also kind of hypocrisy, isn't it? To tell Frisk not to accept this in the same breath they keep pushing that they're the one who should accept it. To tell Frisk that actions have consequences, then be so unhappy about the consequences being so different for the two of them.]

It just... you're the only reason I have any kind of future at all, right? I don't... want one you're left out of.

[Frisk smiles faintly, touched despite themselves. They sit up a little straighter, and draw the plate closer to themselves. They don't have a fork, but that doesn't really matter. Not when they can tell a joke about a kid who ate pie with their bare hands.

Just...just to try it. They dip the tip of their pinky into the top of the filling, whisking off just a fraction of the stuff. It feels just like Toriel's pies should. Firm, but still gooey.

They don't even realize the heat prickling at the corners of their again when they taste it. Tastes like home. Tastes like Home. Tastes like a mistake that they're making, opening themselves up to inevitable disappointment like this.]

It doesn't mean that. It just means...I'll have to work a little harder to get that future, I guess.

...We. Right?

[They lay that thought down - we, not I, wonderful partners, together forever - but don't know how to follow it up. Tell Frisk that they gave Toriel the truth? That they tried and tried to lay down how vile they were, how the bad actions weren't a lost human child, but a soulless wraith imposing its will onto them. How she even knows about Alex and Undyne, and that's still not enough to make her realize which child deserves scorn.

But that... maybe that's cruel. Maybe it would just hurt to hear about all the things Chara got away with scot-free while Frisk has to suffer like this. Maybe Frisk wouldn't even believe them. Maybe Frisk just thinks Chara blamed them for the killings, because that's so much easier, right? Maybe they manipulated this entire situation exactly to their liking, forced Toriel to care about them and not Frisk with cunning lies. How can they call themselves on Frisk's side when things are like this?

Maybe they don't have the right to say anything at all.]

You don't... have to be so sickening about this. You don't have to be sunshine and hopes. You're actually mad at me, aren't you?

At you?

[Frisk glances up, unable to mask their shock. Chara might be adept at reading them most of the time, but they're not sure how much of that question has to do with expecting some kind of lashing out, being conditioned to retreat and hate themselves and blame themselves, because they must have made Toriel love them.

Frisk looks back at the pie, pictures it like the way it was in the worst timelines. Just a tool. A lifeless thing to be swallowed down at an opportune moment.

They consider whether they actually feel angry. But...no, not really. Not angry. Just not really very anything.]

No. Not...not you. I don't know if I'm even mad, to be honest. I'm just...tired.

[They don't know if they trust that. They can't imagine not feeling resentment, or envy, or... or anything like that. But maybe it makes sense, right? Good people don't get angry. Anger's evil.

Or maybe...]

Feeling nothing's a lot easier than feeling too much.

[Just tired. Just grey. Just kind of hollowed out. They sort of think that's supposed to be LOVE, too, but Frisk feels it without any EXP. They felt it when they were alive, when the only thing they ever actually managed to kill was... ha ha, you know the punchline by now. But at least it's not violent, fiery, consuming. At least it's sort of livable, for a while.]

I think we both know that.

[So just...shut it all down. Scrub it all out. If you don't feel anything, you don't get hurt. If you condition yourself to expect disappointment, you're never disappointed when it comes.]

But...no. I can't just blame you for everything that's happened. It's my fault too, right?

[They are, after all, partners.

It's only fair that they're both held accountable.]

Then why are you the only one getting punished?

Because...

[The words dry up on their tongue. Somehow, they can't think of a justification there. Not immediately.]

Because I - I think -

[* You think you deserve it.]

I think I need to own up to this. I'm not...I kept telling everyone the truth about, about how things went back home. And everyone said it was okay. They don't remember dying, except Papyrus.

Is what I'm doing not owning up, then?

Is it just... a one or the other kind of thing? Alphys, Undyne, Sans when he has enough energy to... they hate me. Maybe we can't both be loved at the same time.

[They know it's kind of a stupid answer. Papyrus exists, after all, and they still haven't figured out how to make him give up on them. But...]

Maybe it's the way it works. Nobody can get killed by someone and not be mad.

[It would explain, too, why Frisk can love everyone who killed them so much. Chara definitely hates all of them enough for both of them, right?]

They don't hate you.

[If they did, would Chara still be persisting, unambushed, as they have? Alphys...well, they'd all been pretty messed up that event. If what Frisk said and did is excusable, maybe that can extend to everyone.]

I think they just...don't know how to understand you just yet. It'll happen soon.

[They're deflecting. It's probably obvious.

They don't care.]

[They look over at Frisk. Slowly, like their eyes have weight, like just pointing all that redness anywhere but down is a physical effort.]

Then I suppose Toriel doesn't know how to understand you just yet either.

[Does it help?]

I...I guess, yeah.

[It's a cheering-up effort, they know that much. But they feel a little better.

Tentatively, timidly, they skim a bit of whipped cream off the top of the pie and lick it from their fingertip.]

...Thanks.

[Well. They're letting themselves eat it. The miniscule, hesitant nibbles aren't so bad; Chara knows what it's like to think you have to make it last.

They plant their hands on the bedspread, ready to stand, but pause. Uncertain.]

Do... you need anything else?

I don't think so. Not anymore.

[They allow themselves a smile. It's wavering, and weak, but sincere.]

You're a good friend.

[They don't smile back. Don't know why. Is not smiling more or less sincere if you always have a smile on? If they don't feel like smiling, is that rudeness or honesty?

Whatever. Overthinking it. They stand up, return to their own bed.]

Lies and slander. I refuse to have my reputation besmirched so openly. I'm going to bed, or a reasonably sleepless facsimile thereof.

Whatever you say, partner.

[But Frisk's smile definitely solidifies as they eat the slice of Butterscotch Pie.]

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