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I'm not thinking clearly? I'm not thinking clearly?

[Their tone and pitch rises, verging on hysterical. They can't...god, they can't do this. They can't keep doing this. There's not a break, not a single moment that they just get to sit aside and think and - ]

You're not comforting! Not right now! You're just talking about them like they're bad, and they're not. Don't say that. Don't ever, ever say that!

* Would a good person attack a sick, defenseless monster?

* I don't think it's very healthy to be excusing their actions like this.
* Look how stressed and upset you are, because of what they did.
* You wouldn't have hurt yourself if they'd done what you told them to.
* You wouldn't be acting so

* You wouldn't be like this if they'd been good.

[They're not stopping. The writing keeps coming, thick and fast. Frisk's shoulders hunch, quivering with a barely-suppressed outrage. They glare at the pause, the hesitation before the writing continues.]

Wouldn't be so what.

[They crack the "t" sharply, unable to prevent the overly harsh snap of teeth.]

* Please don't be mad at me.
* I'm not trying to make you mad. I care about you. I love you.
* I know you'd never say or do anything to hurt me.
* I know that's not the real you, when you act like this.
* You're a good person.

* But you're acting like the Frisk on this side.

Maybe because I'm not as good as you think I am! Maybe because I'm not as good as anyone thinks I am!

[Their voice cracks, too high and bright and uncontrolled.]

You're such a good person, Frisk! You're the friend I always wanted, Frisk! You're the future of humans and monsters! You're our future! You're so good, you're perfect, Frisk, so why are you so mad? Why are you crying? Perfect people don't get mad or sad or - or -

[The don't know how to finish the sentence, so they don't. It resolves in a sound ripped from their throat like a scream as they push both hands through their hair, not caring that they're matting it with mud and glass and blood, not caring that it's streaking their face with red.]

[The words are wiped from the mirror with startling, flinch-like swiftness, and it takes a moment for more to appear again. What do they do? What do they do about this? Frisk's supposed to comfort them, not the other way around! This never would have happened if... Frisk doesn't get like this unless the real Chara does something. Makes things so much worse that Frisk is driven to be like this.

So what's the fake Chara do? They tap the end of the marker against the glass anxiously, until they realize they're making noise. Don't even think the real Frisk can hear it, but they stop anyway, just in case they're being annoying.

Maybe... everyone loves Frisk because Frisk solves their problems, right? Maybe they can make Frisk love them if they...]

* It's... ok, you know.
* You can cry.
* You can say whatever you need to say to me. I won't tell anyone.
* I'll understand. Whatever it is, I'll understand.

I...

[Lashing out again. What makes them so perfect if they're always like this? Rude, horrible, angry, hateful, spiteful. Why can't people see it? Why can't they stop apologizing for it?

They take a breath, and another. Try to proceed in a rational matter. Stop being so weird. Stop being so cruel and horrible.]

It doesn't matter. I wish I could help them. But I can't.

I wish I could bring Asriel back. But I can't.

I wish I could heal Sans, take back everything I just said and did. But I can't.

I can't bring anyone back. I can't SAVE - anyone. Not anymore. Just a one-time thing. I'm not the savior everyone thinks I am.

And one day, they're all gonna see it.

* You are a saviour. Just a different type, now. The world changes, and so do you.
* You saved Sans from Chara. You lifted him up and took care of him.
* You - and all of your friends - saved Alphys from Chara's taunting. You comforted her when Undyne was gone.
* You were the one who supported Asriel when he... um, wasn't doing so well? You were the one he trusted, the one he thanked.
* You were there for Asgore and Toriel when he was gone.

[They have to wipe the mirror clean; they're running out of space.]

* You're still helping everyone. That's what they see, Frisk.
* You SAVE them in smaller ways now, but you still SAVE everyone.

And what about Chara? I don't get to SAVE them? They're not worth SAVING? What?

[Some of their hair sticks to the sides of their head, their temples, the blood half-drying into a tight, rust-brown coating. Their throat feels ragged, torn, especially with the bitter tang of their own blood still fresh in their mouth, the indent on their tongue where they bit it too hard and too fast.]

I'm tired to arguing with you about them. I'm not giving up on them, do you understand that? I'm never giving up on them!

* Frisk... this isn't healthy.
* What have they done for you lately? Attack your friends for no reason? Stress you out? Tell you they don't love you?
* Who's taking care of you?

* I'm not sure you can keep doing this forever.

Stop it.

[There's fresh tears spilling out over their bloodied face, thick and hot. They don't even dash them away angrily. Can't. They'll just get more blood all over them.]

I told you. Stop talking about them. I'm not giving up on them. They're hurt and alone and I left them. They weren't gonna do it. They weren't - I just made it worse.

* You're bleeding. You're crying.
* You're hurt in every sense a person can be hurt right now.
* Do you have someone you can talk to, Frisk?
* I'm scared your breaking point is closer than you realize.

I'm always hurt! Don't you get it? It never stops. It never gets better!

You think my breaking point is close?

It's already happened. It happened way before now, and there's no fixing it. There's no fixing me!

[Wow. Um... they're... they're really not doing so well, huh?

They're acting... a bit like the real Chara. Melodramatic. Oh, I'm so broken, I'm so awful, I deserve the consequences of my horrible behaviour, but I guess I won't stop doing it because I'm so defective forever.

Chara swallows their distaste. Have to be useful if they're going to be SAVED. Frisk won't SAVE them if they aren't worthy of it. Starts writing.]

* Frisk, I love you a lot, okay?
* I know there's nothing I can do from this side of the glass, but I love you.
* Can you... pause for a bit? Take care of yourself for me.
* Patch up your hand. Wash your face. Get something nice to drink. I'll be here. I'll wait.

* We can talk when you aren't bleeding. This will probably be a long conversation.

[They shouldn't take this out on them. Shouldn't excise everything they are on someone who's done nothing but try to voice their opinion. But it's just rubbing salt in the wound. It's not helping.

They need to find Chara. They need to fix themselves back into something acceptable.

They need to fix things again.]

I...I can't do this right now. I'm sorry. I can't. I just need - I need to fix things again. I need to make sure they're all right. And then I can - do whatever you need me to do.

[They hate to push. Easier to just do what people want them to do, just let people do what they want. They don't really want to deal with someone who's acting like their Real.

But... they don't want Frisk running off to lick Chara's boots, either. What, they're just gonna sprint around Wonderland with dirt and blood and tear-tracks smeared on their face, letting the open cuts on their hand get infected and disgusting? All for poor Chara's sake?]

* I'm not asking you to do this for ME, Frisk. I know I'm still a Chara, but I'm not that selfish.
* Put yourself first. You need it.

* ...You know, or don't. You don't have to listen to me if you don't want to, I guess.
* If you've got better things to do than waste time on me, I'll be quiet.
* I'm just... worried about you.

You're not selfish.

[Just keep expecting Frisk to form dichotomies where there aren't any. Good or bad. Real Chara or Mirror Chara. Choose, Frisk. Choose! Why aren't you choosing!

Take another breath, try to contain themselves. Act reasonably, lock it down, don't speak unless spoken to, close everything off, off, off, breathe breathe breathe focus focus remember you're just a kid there are consequences you're not breathing and you ran away like you always do and took away the choice you're still not breathing and that was a condemnation because they're bad the demon that comes when you call its name and you're still not breathing they're? they're still not they're still not they're still not

breathing ]

[

They're on the floor now. And they're breathing too fast. Fast, fast, fast, hyperventilating, Asriel telling them he's not safe to be around and Toriel sitting on Chara's bed, the lines in her face crisp and drawn as she tries to be the pillar of support, Asgore sobbing, clutching them, begging them to turn back time so he can see his son one more time because no one ever told him ]

[They're dizzy. The air is too sharp and it stabs their lungs with every breath.

They lie there. They lie there. They lie there. Words on a mirror. Get up, answer. They lie there. They lie there. They lie there. They lie there.

Someone's laughing.]

[They drag themselves upright, half upright, staring dazedly at the mirror, their eyes at half-mast, trying to look past the thick wetness of tears and drying blood and it's so stupid, they're so stupid, pretending they're the one in pain when they're not, they're not. They're just some dumb dramatic kid pretending they're more important than they are.

Not Chara's best friend. Not anymore.

Not Chara's family. Not anymore.

Not Chara's partner. Not anymore.

Nothing. Nothing. Grind it all to dust. Stamp it out. Reaching, groping for a resonance that hums its approval as their fingers close around it but it doesn't.

Breathe, breathe.

Not so fast. Breathe.

They breathe.

They get it under control.]

I'm...sorry.

[The words emerge brokenly, bit by tenuous bit as they grind them out, try not to ache.]

I can't...do this. Not right now. Please.

[Quieter, quieter.]

I'm sorry.

Edited 2016-08-11 04:37 (UTC)

[They're only words on a pane of glass. Frisk can't see their face, can't detect palms slapping against the mirror or a body recoiling away from it or anxious pacing because they're on the floor and it feels like it lasts forever. A more useful person would stay calm, would remember it helps to feel it beating, count their breaths, focus on numbers, it's normal you're not dying this will pass it's normal.

All they can do is scribble Frisk's name in the glass over and over. Doesn't help. Achieves nothing.

Frisk pulls themselves together, and a wild, frenetic swipe of Chara's sleeve obliterates all the repetitions of Frisk's name off the mirror's surface.]

* Frisk, please.
* Take a break.
* I won't say anything. I'll leave. Just... take a break.

And go where? And do what?

[It's funny. It's so funny. They feel exhausted, lying here, propped up on their hands and knees with a hand that burns as it drags over carpet. They thought maybe they'd be safe here, but look, not even that's right!

That was cruel. Best if they keep that to themselves.]

Where do I go? What do I do? I don't know, not without them, not -

[Voice chokes into silence. Throat closes.

It's gone.]

* Lie on the floor and feel like garbage? Eat something you like?
* Bandage your hand. Please.

* I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
* I shouldn't have bugged you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse.
* It's always us Charas backing you into these corners, ha ha.

* That's not funny.

[They erase it all. Start over.]

* Please, please, just take care of yourself.
* Go wherever you want and do whatever you want, as long as it makes you feel better.

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END

LORD

EVERYTHING IS OKIE FUCKIN DOKIE

barks internally

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