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[...now? She means now?]

[Of course she means now. Why wouldn't she? The clearing of that hurdle somehow seems that much more insurmountable because of the lack of preparation, despite the fact that they must have...should have expected this. Should have seen it coming.]

[Another pause before they can answer.]

ok

[But they'll have to take a little bit of time getting there.]

[Their hair's grown awfully tangled. Rummaging in search of a comb is too much, but they can work out the worst of the knots with their fingertips, trying to smooth down the unwashed strings into something at least vaguely presentable.]

[They really are a mess without you, Partner.]

See you there

[Max heads over to the tearoom with... trepidation? Anxiety? It's impossible to convince herself that this is a normal meet-up. She has some idea what Frisk might be going through- and she has no idea how to deal with it. To heal it.

She doesn't even know what golden flower tea is, so all she does is draw out some hot water and set the table. All the while she scolds herself for doing this in such a haphazard way. In such an unprepared way.

She steels herself for Frisks arrival, but that little preparation falls short at the sight of them.]

Oh... Frisk...

[It takes a deep breath before she can approach, opening her arms for a hug, similar to how she hugged them before.]

[They must look...terrible. For all their efforts to seem somewhat presentable, they've still failed in some fundamental fashion. Twitching, pulling down the hem of their sweater, tiny adjustments of the stitches and threads of their sleeves, long since stretched and distended and mistreated into shapelessness.]

[She opens her arms at once. They shrink, duck around her instead.]

[They...can't. They can't just now.]

[(They might not ever let go.)]

It's okay.

[She watches them duck away, shrinking back as they do, all at once realizing that she probably came on too strong. She straightens and rubs the back of her neck.]

Yeah... Sorry. I've just been worried...

[She gnaws at her lip as she casts about for something to say. Trying to break the awkwardness. A rewind won't even help- not with Frisk.]

I, uh, don't actually know what golden flower tea is, so...

[People are worried about them, though no one will say it. No one will say it aloud, though they do in other ways - in how they step carefully around every conversation, refrain from being too forward, won’t mention certain names or look back too far. Treating them like they’re too fragile to handle it.]

[Maybe they are.]

I can find it.

[It takes them a moment of concentration, but they do - extricate it from one of the cupboards, a small tin of dried golden petals.]

[Max nods- useless given that Frisk is looking away- and meekly watches them prepare the tea.

Eventually the silence gets a little too much to bear.]

...Frisk? You know you can tell me anything, right? Pen pal?

[...]

[She’s trying. She is. They can appreciate that, on a distant level. They just don’t know how to answer to that. It’s no great secret. There’s nothing to tell about.]

What’s there to tell?

I guess... [She runs a finger along her cheekbone, for a moment lost in thought.] What you're feeling? And if there's anything I can do.

Nothing, really.

[They're not doing a good job of explaining, are they? "Nothing" isn't the same as "it's okay," or "it's fine," or "I'll live." It just means...nothing. The days pass in an idle blur. Everything has slogged together into the same awful slurry, until they can no longer pick the hours that they're awake from the ones where they aren't.]

[So, nothing.]

[She looks down. Once again she doesn't know what to say or do. Maybe that's why she put this off for so long.

But it's not about her. It's about Frisk. And if they're not feeling anything at all, then maybe she can make them feel something over tea. A little bit of lightness. Not even happiness- she doubts she could manage that- but just feel a little like the weight has eased.

She sits at the table and fiddles with her tea.]

You know when I first... uh. Do you... do you mind if I talk about Chara for a bit?

...okay.

[She was always going to talk about it. No one else really has, but they said that they would be here, to talk about stuff like that if she ever wanted. And now she does - it'd be cruel to turn her down.]

[She wants to talk about them.]

[She should be allowed to.]

[The slight hesitation there makes Max pause. By now she thinks she knows enough about Frisk to guess what's going on. They do have that streak of just... agreeing to whatever she says.]

...Is it really? It's okay to say no.

I said I’d be here. If you wanted to talk.

[It seems rude to renege on that promise now. They can’t say they’ve ever done much for you, Partner, but at least they can do this. They can try and be better than they ever were for you. They can try and keep promises, for once. ]

[Better late than never.]

...

[Max feels a little pang in her chest as she hears those words. That's definitely not how she wanted that promise to be used.]

I only wanna talk if you actually want to hear it, Frisk. It's just... when Chloe left I had no one to talk to about it, and...

[She shrugs.]

And I don't want you to feel the same way.

[So she wants to talk about them. That's all right. Everyone wants to, in some way or another, though they don't say it aloud. It's all in the way they look at them. Like they're fragile. Like they might break, any second, as soon as they're mentioned.]

It's okay. You can...

It's okay.

[Max regards them with worry, before glancing aside and deciding to press on. She wraps her fingers around the hot cup of tea.]

When I first arrived they threatened me with a knife.

[She smiles a little.]

I think they wanted to scare me. And I was freaked the hell out.

They tried to scare most people.

[Tried. Past tense. They still would try, even when the intensity of their arrival eased, but - not anymore. They can’t anynore. They can’t do anything anymore but wait, the unlit porch light flickering for someone to come home. ]

[Max nods in agreement. It was pretty integral to Chara's character.]

Then we had that whole nutso incident. You know? I can hardly even remember why they were mad at me.

[But the memory of standing in that patch of flower, painfully aware of how her life was on the line, is very clear. She shakes her head almost in amusement.]

It was like some sort of... friendship rite of passage.

They were mad at the world.

[She just happened to be in it, the same way Frisk was. Complicit in the way everything twisted a child beyond recognition and fashioned them into the demon they claimed they were. Breathing life into something terrible, and complaining when it does exactly as you asked.]

[Max lets that sit for a moment. She weighs her words carefully, keenly aware that she can't rewind her way out of a bad situation.]

...Not so much in their last few months, I think.

[A vague little shrug of their shoulders. They wouldn't know, really. They didn't talk so much, then. Not enough to tell what was coming, if that was even possible. Not enough to say everything, anything, that truly mattered before they disappeared forever.]

I don't know. [You never realize how much you've never asked someone until they're gone.]

[You just assumed they'd be there forever.]

I never really knew enough.

...Really? [It takes Max by surprise. Chara and Frisk always seemed like they knew everything about each other. Even when they didn't.] You probably did- do. You just don't realize it.

I should have.

[It's not until someone disappears that you realize how little you knew. How much more they should have asked. Were they really happy here? Was there anything Frisk could be doing better? What do you want to do today, Chara?]

[Big kids don't cry. But there's an itch in the back of their throat and a stinging in their eyes that they can't escape.]

I should have asked more.

Just cuz you didn't ask... doesn't mean you didn't know. [But she's not going to push that point further. She thinks she understands where Frisk is coming from- the feeling of disappointment in themself.] Chara... might not have liked you asking, anyway.

[She sighs.]

You're a good friend, Frisk. A great friend. Chara knew that.

[...]

[They've forgotten about the tea.]

[They take to spooning the loose leaves into the strainer, heating the water in the kettle. The ritual should be soothing. Instead, it's just reminiscent of things they should never have allowed to come to pass.]

They won't know anymore.

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