* Despite everything, it's still you. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
determinedest) wrote2016-02-01 10:14 pm
determinedest) wrote2016-02-01 10:14 pm
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You've reached Frisk. If I'm not answering my phone, please leave a message or find me on the second floor, Room 12.
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But monsters...monsters are better, aren't they? Chara's anger is vicious, blazing, as dense and uncontained as they are. And they...they feel it dragging at them like a razor blade over skin, the cherry-bright and crescent-shaped like a smile or the apposed edges of flesh and muscle that come from a throat slit open with one clean stroke.
Does it make them a bad person? They're trying to be good. They're always choosing to be good, continuously choosing it, even if they mess up sometimes.]
There are lots of Floweys out there.
[The words are quiet and strange and controlled, more even than they should be.]
Lots of people who...who'll kill or be killed. And if I didn't choose to go with her, with Toriel - where would I have gone? Back there?
[How long would that last before someone threw something that landed too heavily, struck their temple too hard, left them outside too long, or just plain couldn't take the incessant whining of a little child anymore? Only they wouldn't say "child." They'd say all the words that they hate, terms that weren't them, while the other kids would say, matter-of-factly, how h▒▒ Mom and Dad didn't want h░▒. They'd never want a broken thing like h▒░.]
Maybe...maybe it's okay if we don't. Maybe it doesn't make us bad. If people hurt us, and never changed, and never said sorry, never tried to make it better - maybe it's okay if we don't...
[It sounds so wrong in their mouth they have to swallow and try again.]
I forgave everyone I met Underground, for everything they did. But, but that's because they - they were hurt by humans, and they fought back because they had to. And then, then they felt bad, and said sorry. But those people, those humans, they - they never even tried to make anything better.
[Are they allowed? Allowed to hate people? They've mentioned such things, obliquely, tentatively, to Mettaton and to Sans and to Alphys, and not one of them passed a judgment that made them feel worse for it.]
Maybe they're not worth it. Our forgiveness. Our thoughts. Any of it.
I don't wanna hurt them. But I don't - I don't think I - I don't think I wanna forgive them. They don't - I don't wanna ever think of them again.
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That kind of life kills you. They can't go back to that life. They can't.]
Some things are better off erased, are they not?
[Their smile is brittle and calcified, a strawberry-sweet lid clamped over the years and years of locked-away helpless fury still churning in their gut.]
We keep being told... loving someone isn't a conscious choice. Just... an accident. A thing that happens by itself, whether you will it to or not.
["It just happened." Like that's any comfort at all. Nobody wanted this, Chara just made them care. All they do is make people do and say things they never would have if that little parasite had never been born.]
Maybe hate's like that, too. We can't just go... "oh, you know what, I think I'm not gonna feel that way about you anymore." Can't wake up one morning and decide "yeah, that's enough, I feel totally fine with what happened to me now!" I don't even... I don't think we should have to.
[They're never going to look back on it and think it's okay. Never going to be able to dredge up the feeling of Asriel's pain and terror as he clutched that limp corpse and think "it all happened for a reason" or "it was part of God's plan for you." Never going to accept being curled up under the bed, face pressed into a pillow so nobody could hear or see your sobs. Big kids don't cry.]
You should be mad. It was an injustice. You didn't have it coming, you didn't - you didn't ask for it. Your mirror, your parents... they just hurt you because they had power over you and wanted you to know it.
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Is it their responsibility, to like everyone? To love everyone and SAVE everyone and appreciate them and listen to them talk about their issues and solve their every problem flawlessly? They've met humans, incomprehensible as it sounds, who are good and kind, who have become trusted people, friends, family. And they can no sooner choose to mistrust them than they can choose to hate them.
Frisk's tightly-clenched fists relax, fingers opening once more (fingers that snapped so easily, got caught in car doors like the Mirror must have remembered they did, got left inside the locked car with the heat and the thick air and the nothing, nothing, nothing that came when they called for someone to remember they were still inside), folding across their lap.]
Don't have to forgive anyone. Don't have to SAVE anyone just, just because I can. I can, but I don't have to, do I?
[They've never turned that statement around like that. Regarded it for the positive as well as the negative.]
Maybe I don't have to hurt them. I can - I can choose what I do with, with how much I hate them. Even if that's doing nothing.
But I don't have to say it's okay, either.
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[It's another of those moments where they have to forcefully bite down a feeling they don't really understand. Frisk's the crybaby, not them.
They're still uncertain. Don't trust any of their ideas or opinions to be good, no matter how much they might fake it. Not sure if it's really okay to teach Frisk that they're allowed to hate. Shouldn't they be the one trying to be more like Frisk and Asriel are? Maybe this is just... just dragging Frisk down to their level. Pulling a feather or two out of an angel's wings.
But... they know it's not that black and white, don't they?]
You're not an angel.
[That prophecy was never about either of them.]
You're not perfect. But I...
[The word claws in their throat. Love. Too difficult, too raw, still an open wound.]
I like your imperfections. I don't want an angel. I don't want those spaces blanked out. You don't have to be a flawless pristine snowbank, or - or an empty canvas everyone else can write their worries on. You're Frisk - my Frisk - and you have the right to hate what happened to you.
It's okay to not be okay, right?
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They're not the only one out there. Not the only one who braved the Underground. There's not even a common thread besides the name, the name that links them all together.
It settles deep and heavy in their gut, that knowledge. They'd not wanted it, not a single second of it. But maybe it doesn't matter, so much, if they're one Frisk of many Frisks, one Chara of many Charas. There's no Chara they'd rather have than theirs, and they think Chara...feels the same.]
Right.
[The word is nearly soundless but for the soft clip of the "t" coming together with the apposition of tongue and teeth.]
I like you too, okay? Everything you say you hate, it - it doesn't matter to me. It doesn't matter if you've hurt people or been hurt by people. I don't care. I can't - I can't really choose to stop caring about you, just like I can't stop hating them.
[One corner of their mouth ticks upward in an uneven smile.]
But I...I think like you a lot more than I hate them.
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They're not sure if there's anything in the world that's capable of being stronger than all the hate that they've got, but maybe, if it'd be anything at all... maybe they like Frisk more than they hate humanity, too.
Yeah, right.]
I... ha ha, I know it's weird that I get relieved when you get mad about something, but... I am.
[Still just as incapable of understanding how Frisk can possibly look at all the things Chara hates about themself and sees something worthy of love, but definitely capable of that inexplicable backwards relief. Even if they don't know if it's a good thing to encourage, even if they don't know if it's helping or not, just... just seeing Frisk able to make peace with not forgiving is enough. Seeing them closer to viewing what happened as another person wronging them, not a guilt-laden memory of what they failed to be, failed to do, failed to forgive.
If it helps, just a little. If it even brings the tiniest measure of solace. If it makes it just a shade easier to swallow... then that's enough.]
Um. Frisk. ...Do you wanna be touched right now?
[Chara - Chara doesn't want to hold hands. Finds them hard to look at. Is terrified of being too strong, too rough, too horrible to touch fragile, mending fingers. Don't expect that hugs make it all better, that it'll make everything okay with a single gesture. But being held... that was what Asriel had understood "comfort" to mean. What Frisk had, too, because they'd chosen to comfort him, right?]
Or... I don't know, do you need something else? I'm not - this has never been my forte.
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[The words feel foreign, strange to say aloud. It's okay to be mad. Has anyone ever told them that before? Ever acknowledged that their anger, their pain, their suffering is - relevant?
It's always been secondary, they thought. To the pain of monsters, to the pain of people who knew them. Their pain was just a stepping stone to someone else's, and it wouldn't matter how many times they died or got hurt or were nearly killed by the people they called their friends. It didn't matter, because those people didn't mean it, because they were more important, because they didn't have the special power that enabled Frisk to always come out unscathed.
Maybe not unscathed.
But...alive.
They turn slightly. It's hard to look Chara in the eyes based on the position they're both in, but that's okay. They don't think they need to. They try to smile, but they don't think they really succeed.
Maybe that's okay too.]
It's okay if you want to, um...[They're kind of already leaning against each other, aren't they, ha ha.] I mean, I'm okay with it.
no subject
Isn't that the most far-out thing you've ever heard? Anger's evil. They're really... ha, they're really coming up with some wild stuff together, aren't they? But it's not like Chara can even begin to think it's evil of Frisk to be angry. It's not. They really, truly, don't see wrongness in that.
Funny, because they can't even tell if this is Chara's guidance, or Frisk's.
They shift, work one arm free. Rest it against Frisk's back. Their hand hesitates. Lightly, cautiously, not certain if it'll spur a flinch or brush against a concealed nick or goose egg or welt, they bring it up to Frisk's hair. Easy to duck away from, not touching their body because they both know how easy it is to bruise up the places that clothing covers up, because they know what the impact of a boot against ribs feels like. Just... cradling their hair, offering a shoulder to rest their head on. A baby step, something they hope doesn't hurt or press in or smother.]
It's not really even about what I wanna do. I just...
[They shrug their free shoulder. Laugh again, because they're just a nonstop barrel of laughs.]
I'm trying to figure out what you want? I don't know... I dunno what feels safe for you, I guess.
[Does anything feel safe, really, when you've been taught touch is... when you've been... after all of this?]
no subject
They laugh a little, lightly, a faint huffing chuckle.]
You feel safe, mostly. I...trust you. You know I do.
[They are their partner, in many things, in all things, and there's...there's not really anything they'd do to change whatever this is, this sort of bond they share. It's without a doubt the most important connection they've shared with another person in their life.]
Thank you. For...for talking to me. Helping me. You really are - I mean, I know I say we're friends, best friends, but I dunno if that really...covers it. I mean, uh.
[They're saying this all wrong, aren't they?]
What do you call someone who've shared a SOUL with?
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You don't have to thank me. That's... it should really be the bare minimum you expect, you know.
[It had always been the worst part of life on the surface. That nobody would talk about it. That nobody was willing to hear it. Always easier to assume that it won't happen again, or they're a tough kid so they'll sort it out themselves, or they're smiling and going about their business so they clearly must be totally fine. It's not as easy as scooping the prinxce out of the tower and living happily ever after. It isn't just about rescuing them from the big bad mirror. There's more that comes after that. Everyone should know that, should be thinking about Frisk still. There should be more Snarts out there, even if Chara might've giggled for a full minute about Frisk talking to somebody named Snart.
And even if there aren't, Chara will be. Chara'll fill the empty spaces people leave around Frisk. Can't be a Toriel, for all their trying, but... they can, at least, manage being a Chara.]
...I still think "soulmates" has a nice ring to it.
[A stronger word than friends. Than best friends, than family, than partners. It does... it does feel hard to cram an entire fathomless ocean of feeling into a single word, doesn't it? But soulmates, at least, has the cushioning punchline to it that "Mrs. Dreemom" or "Mr. Dad Guy" has. If you can say it and there's the possibility that you're joking, then it's not so raw, so vulnerable, so exposed.]
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[What it's like.
It's not for a very happy reason. But even unhappy reasons, they think, maybe, can shape them into something they can come to love? Maybe the unhappy reasons aren't all that they are.
Soulmates. Not simply SOULmates, but...soulmates. It's nice. It's simple. They like it.
Frisk smiles faintly.]
Okay. Then that's what we can be, then.
[They say it with the air of finality, like signing a contract. Boom, soulmates. And it means...ha ha, well it's kind of literal too, isn't it? They've shared a SOUL. They've seen the best and the worst of each other and came out loving one another anyway. Best friends, maybe, doesn't quite cover it.
Maybe it's not always perfect. But Sans kind of said, more or less, that loving someone else is one of the strangest, most terrifying things someone can do to another person. It's scary, opening yourself up like that.
But they don't mind it so much. It's worth it.]