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[determinedest]

You've reached Frisk. If I'm not answering my phone, please leave a message or find me on the second floor, Room 12.

( text | audio | video | or literally anything )

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EVERYTHING IS OKIE FUCKIN DOKIE

[determinedest]

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.]

barks internally

[undetermined]

* 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.

[determinedest]

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.

[undetermined]

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

* Okay.
* Sorry.

[determinedest]

[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.]