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...

[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.

[Max stares down at her own drink, feeling blood drain from her face. She remembers all those things Chara used to say, things about being the demon that comes when you call its name. Through hints dropped here and there, and over time, it became quite clear that... Chara wasn't all that... alive back home. Not in the normal sense of alive.]

...But they did, while they were here... And that's kind of the point, right? The point of all of this.

They won’t remember. They could come back today, and they’d never know.

[They’d never know how much you loved me. Even if they never wanted to hear them call it love, because love is painful and horrifying and something people have always perverted for their own gain, turned into something ugly, meant to hurt.]

[But I loved you all the same.]

[Max twists her fingers together. She wishes she could reach out and hold Frisk's hands in her own, find some little way to comfort them. But she remembers how they shy away at such things.]

That doesn't change how good you were to them. For them. And if they ever come back, even if they don't remember... you can show them again.

[She looks up at them, pained to see they way they look.]

I think you two will always be... good for each other.

Is that why they felt like they ruined me?

[They could never really convince them otherwise. They could never...]

[It was always what Chara had done to poison them, to diminish them, to make them less "Frisk," as if that were a crime - as if that were a thing that Chara themself was responsible for, and not something that Frisk themself had committed to at every turn, at every moment, at every ruthless opportunity.]

...Did they?

[Her voice is small at such a dangerous question. But she doesn't believe for a moment that Chara "ruined" Frisk. Nor does she believe that Frisk is "ruined" at all.

Frisk's a person. People get hurt and scared and angry- but ruined is so... Impersonal.]

Every bad thing I've ever thought. Every bad thing I've ever felt. It was always their fault. Had to be.

[A slight bang. They set down the canister of tea leaves with more than the requisite force, until it clanks louder than it should. Too loud. That's not...they can't be that. They can't become the sort of person that throws things, that clatters pans in the sink and shatters plates against the tile.]

[Stand back. Away. Breathe.]

I could never...really change their mind.

[Max doesn't know what to say for a moment, starting a little at the clang of the canister. She twists her fingers, keenly aware of the stress and tension building up in Frisk. She looks at them with the tiniest of smiles, trying to be comforting, in a way.]

...That sounds a little like you. You two were... are always a little too hard on yourselves. You know...?

...doesn't matter now.

[They're gone. And Frisk is just as bad off. Worse, without them. Chara was the best, the only best thing about them, and now they're gone, and it's still just you.]

[The poor kid. Can she even call them a kid?]

Frisk... I know nothing can replace what you had with Chara, and I know you don't want anything to replace it... and neither do I. But if you ever need a friend, for anything... Even just talking shit. I'm here. Okay?

[Sometimes just a friend is enough. It doesn't always have to be your partner. She hopes.

She looks straight at them, and reaches out as though to touch their shoulder, but stops short. A symbolic gesture, if not a physical one.]

...Drink your tea?

[People keep saying that. They're here. They're here. They're here, if they want to talk. They're here, to listen. But when does Frisk ever have anything to say? They're not the talkative one. They're not the one who can spin long words together like silk, and smile while they do it.]

[They don't even know how to borrow * Someone else's skin for a little while. Not really.]

[So instead, they do what they're best at.]

[They shut up.]

Okay.

...Okay.

[Max feels that nothing's really been resolved or changed... But that's not the point, is it? She's trying to be there for them. And they know that. And when they're ready-... if they're ever ready, she'll be waiting.

Waiting's the hard part. But if they want to be quiet, she can do that.

She sips her tea, not quite content, but she'll give them space. And if that's all they do for the rest of this meeting, then that's fine. The two of them can drink their tea near each other, and she won't press any further- and when they want to leave, she won't protest. She'll wait however many days or weeks it takes for them to be ready to talk again.]

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