determinedest | ic inbox

[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.

Stop saying that.

[The word tears out of their throat in broken, breathless staccato. Stop acting like it's your fault.

It's not funny. It's not.

Frisk gets up slowly, shoulders hunching, their good hand wrapped around their middle, gripping the opposite arm.]

I'll come back. I'll come back later. But I can't - [Throat hitches. Again. Swallow it aside.] - I can't do this. Not now.

[Yeah, they dumped the real Chara when they got inconvenient, too. Bigger problems to worry about.]

* Okay.
* Sorry.

[They're predictable. So predictable. They're mumbling apologies between their teeth as they stumble out of the room. They leave a reddened smear on the doorknob. They don't care.]

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END

LORD

EVERYTHING IS OKIE FUCKIN DOKIE

barks internally

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