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The TV flickers in the dark, the brightest source of light in the otherwise dim room. There’s a blur of grass as the holder of the camera runs, the lens pointed towards the ground, and the sound of panting is distorted ever so slightly through the old speakers.
“Hey! Wait up!”
The camera lifts.
///
“Uh, you- you do know how to use thing, right?”
“Of course I do, sweet cheeks!” Undyne revs the motor violently, the noise making nausea crawl up your stomach and settle somewhere way too far up your throat, and your arms tighten around her middle more out of pure reflex than anything...else. Although-- her bare abs shift under your arms, and the heat that rises hot enough you’re sure she can feel it where your face is pressed up against her back makes you wonder if she didn’t plan this. “I’m ready to shred some fuckin’ waves!!”
“M-m-maybe take it a little slow! Please!”
She twists a little to look at you over her shoulder. Her expression doesn’t soften, but her eye crinkles until it’s nearly shut, her grin widening impossibly into Reassuring Smile #2. “Pfft, of course! I’m only gonna go all out once I’m sure this thing can handle ME!” She cackles.
You’re already inhaling to shriek when she propels the jet ski across the water.
It only takes 10 minutes for you to be thrown from the vehicle and into the lake. You barely avoid Undyne deciding it’s an excellent time for an aquatic training session by Papyrus betting he could beat her in a swimming race, and you drag yourself to shore to the sound of aggressive splashing, surprisingly un-miserable for being so waterlogged. Passing a momentary critical eye over Mettaton’s form where he’s set out on a towel (the retractable solar panels was definitely one of your better ideas, he kind of looks like a boxy, sunbathing cat), you plod upshore to find a dry towel to use.
“I refuse to drink that soda. Take a Sprite.”
///
A human child in a green, mudstained sweater is already hiding their face when they come into frame. “Oh my god, seriously? You’re wasting all your tape.”
“I’m not wasting it, dummy.” The angle shifts as the camera is set onto the ground, leaves and flowers obscuring most of the lens. “One day we’re gonna look back on these and you’ll see how important this stuff is, watch.”
“I’m sure,” comes a thin, dry voice from behind the plantlife. “When Froggits fly, mayb--”
Click.
///
“I don’t care if it’s a shitty pun!” says a high, childlike voice, and you really, really shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but there’s only one person that could be and they never talk and... your curiousity was always your downfall. “It’s not funny, it’s morbid-- okay, maybe it’s kind of funny, but my point stands.”
Frisk is leaning into the water cooler, their back to you. Either you’re being very quiet (ha, as if) or they’re too absorbed in what they’re doing to notice you; either way, they don’t hear you as you approach.
“Ha!” they bark, breaking a short silence and nearly making you jump out of your skin. “Nice try, I’ll skip my turn to pick when Froggits fly.”
They fold their arms, tapping their foot against the ground. You’ve heard too much. Heart in your throat, you step back a few paces, and when you’re an acceptable distance away, you sweep your tail over the ground to make the rocks scatter.
Frisk turns, startled by the noise. You wave, unable to hold back a nervous chuckle as you approach, and for a second they just look at you, and you’re so sure they’re going to call you out--
‘Hey, Alphys,’ they sign, a grin spreading over their face. They point to the table a few feet away where a pile of towels are stacked on top of each other. ‘You can dry off over there.’
“Oh, th-thank you,” you stutter, trying not to be too obvious about the breath you let out when you take one from the top of the pile and wrap it around yourself. You’re an awful friend, aren’t you? “This place is really nice! But, uh. I’m not really the best with, um, water, y’know?”
They pat your arm reassuringly when you go to stand next to them. Peering into the cooler, you only need to glance over your choices for a few seconds before you reach in and pull out a Mountain Dew.
Frisk makes a noise next to you that quickly turns into a cough. Startled, you turn to them, concern already waiting on your tongue, but they shake their head.
‘Good choice,’ is all they say, smiling as they crack open a Sprite.
///
“--told you you’d run out,” grumbles a voice, and a pale, frowning face flickers to life. They make a noise in the back of their throat. “Look, it’s not broken, you crybaby, it’s working just fine.”
The camera turns around, and a blurry, white face comes into frame. The small Boss Monster’s eyes are red from crying, and he whines as he covers them with his hands.
“Charaaaa,” he says, “don’t take a video of me like this, it’s embarrassing.”
“Now you know what it feels like.” The tone is mocking, but they sigh. “Okay, okay, I’m shutting it--”
Click.
///
Toriel is laughing from somewhere suspiciously kitchen-wards, and you’d be nervous about how loudly Papyrus is shrieking at whatever pun she and Sans are exchanging now if you weren’t too busy being wrapped up in your girlfriend’s arms. Well, okay, you’re never too busy to be nervous, but sharing a blanket with Undyne on the couch in front of the fireplace definitely makes it a little easier to deal with.
You’ve always had a hard time feeling like you belonged anywhere. But sitting in a warm and cozy house with the smell of baking things and laughter wreathing around you, it’s... It’s nice. It’s really nice.
You only realize you’re starting to doze when movement on the couch next to you wakes you up. Blinking your eyes open, you see Frisk leaning back into the couch, and they wince slightly when your eyes meet.
‘Sorry for waking you,’ they say, and you shake your head just slightly.
‘It’s OK, I wasn’t asleep.’ You sign back, not wanting to wake Undyne. She started snoring 10 minutes after you sat down. You’re not really surprised; she pushed herself hard today, even for her. Frisk doesn’t look entirely convinced, but they don’t question it, instead just settling back further and watching the flames flicker in the fireplace.
Glancing over the couch, you can just see Toriel in the kitchen mixing the filling. You start to sign again, and Frisk’s eyes gravitate to your moving hands. ‘Not that I’m asking you to leave or anything, but I’m surprised you’re over here instead of helping with the pie.’
The change is instantaneous. The small smile on their face becomes strained, trying to pull itself wider for a second before it nearly falls flat entirely, and their hands fist into the fabric of their sweater. It’s awful, and your mouth goes dry, and it’s gone so quickly you would have no problem convincing yourself it’s just your messed up brain seeing things again if it wasn’t for they way they avert their eyes. Guiltily, almost.
‘I’m not very good in the kitchen,’ is all they say.
Despite that, you can’t help but feel like you’ve almost crossed a line.
Another handful of minutes and Frisk is asleep, too. There’s a half-formed, impossible, unthinkable idea growing in your mind like the smallest of flowers.
Or a weed.
///
“Oh, yeah, I remember. When we tried to make the butterscotch pie for Dad, right? The recipe asked for cups of butter. But we accidentally put in buttercups instead.”
...
“Those flowers got him really sick.”
Click.
///
“Frisk, I do not think it is a good idea for you to wander off on your own. Who knows what’s in these woods.”
‘Pleeeaaase?’ they ask, pouting for all they’re worth. ‘This place is so new, and I wanna go exploring, and I’ll have my phone on me and I won’t even go far!’
It’s a convincing argument, but Toriel doesn’t look swayed, and you find yourself taking a breath to speak before you even realize you’re doing it. “I can go with them,” you offer, and you shrink when Toriel’s gaze swivels over to you. “I mean, I- I was hoping to document some of the plant life and bring some specimens back to my lab to- to analyze them, um, anyway, and I haven’t had a chance t-t-to do that yet, so...” More like you promised to bring back some wildflowers for Asgore’s garden. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“...Are you sure?” Toriel asks, but there’s a thinly-veiled layer of bite under her words, and you wince. Can you handle it, she’s really asking. Can I trust you with my child after what you did to the people who were last entrusted to your care, is what she means. You tear your gaze away from hers.
“...N-n--”
“Of COURSE she’s sure!!” Undyne swings her arm around Toriel’s shoulders, grinning a little too widely. “No need to worry, Mrs-- er, Miss Toriel! Alphys can handle whatever it is you’re worried about or I’ll eat my favorite spear. For breakfast.”
You feel a little like your soul is about to burst out of your chest and a lot like you’re going to die on the spot, but Toriel looks from Undyne to your sweaty face to Frisk’s hopeful expression and sighs, resigned.
“Oh, alright,” she says, Frisk already fist-pumping as the words leave her mouth. “But I expect to be notified if anything goes wrong, and check back in if you haven’t joined us again by noon.”
“R-right!” You nod earnestly, earning a slightly more sympathetic look from Toriel, and Undyne gives you a thumbs up as Frisk practically drags you off the trail.
The woods are certainly beautiful. There are so many trees, and they’re all healthy and green and free to grow as tall as they’re able without a cavern roof to get in the way. It still astounds you just how much growing things there are up here, sometimes.
You’d probably be able to enjoy it more if you weren’t so out of shape, though. Then again, you probably wouldn’t be so out of shape if you were motivated to leave your house more in the first place, instead of sitting at your desk all day coding and watching cartoons.
Nobody can say you aren’t living the high life.
You do your best to gather as many flowers as you can, trying not to disturb their root systems too much, but when it comes down to it, Frisk is a preteen who managed to burn through the length of the entire Underground in one day and you’re an anxious nerd who thinks making the trip from the couch to the sink is too much trouble sometimes, and soon enough it’s taking almost all you have to keep up with them. They try to pace themselves for your sake -- you can tell because they keep doubling back, looking far too energetic -- but they’re off again every time they see something new. Kids, huh? Heh...
Huffing, you clamber over ivy in an attempt to catch up with them. They’re out of sight again; you’re not sure what it is that’s caught their attention this time, but if it’s anything like that huge spiderweb or the strangely pristine rodent skull they picked off the ground earlier, you’re sure it’ll be exciting.
You gasp the second they come into view.
“Oh hell!” you say, because they’re kneeling in the grass and there’s yellow flowers in their hands and their skin is already blistering, oh god, oh god, and the sudden fear rises so strong in your chest that you don’t even think when you take them by the arm and pull them away from the field of buttercups.
They flinch bodily, jerking away from you, and you flinch in turn. Both of you are breathing hard.
“Um,” you start, and then you’ve dropped your own backpack to the ground as you start to rifle through it furiously. “Okay, okay, it’s fine! It- it- it’s in here somewhere, I just- oh god, okay- h- here!” You rip the bag from its designated pocket, your claws shaking only a little bit. “This is a magical salve, it sh- it’ll heal your, uh, your hands!”
They take it from you, slowly. Their fingers are trembling, but you can tell the exact moment the magic in the ointment starts to take effect; the tension leaks from their body like a slowly deflating balloon.
Until you blurt out “Did you eat any?” and they recoil like they’ve been struck.
“S-sorry!” you say, pressing your eyes closed, but you open them again after a moment, afraid that they’ll take the opportunity to run. “B-but I- I need to know, these flowers are- um...” You fidget with your fingers anxiously. “Did you?”
After a moment, they shake their head, thrusting the salve back at you. You put it back hastily, and when you straighten up again, Frisk is already waiting at the spot where you came from. Neither of you say anything, but it’s obvious when they start walking again that they intend to lead the way back.
Silence wasn’t in short supply during the beginning of the journey, but it just weighs on you heavily now.
You catch them rubbing their fingers over each other on the way back more than once. You don’t bring it up.
///
“I’ll go get the flowers.”
///
You’ve been trying really hard to be a better person.
Maybe it’s a lost cause, and maybe you’re just delaying the inevitable when it comes to letting everyone down, but you’re trying, even though it’s hard. Even though you can’t see the point, sometimes. You owe it to everybody, though. You owe it to your friends to try and make up for all your mistakes, so you keep on going where you would’ve given up long ago if it’d just been for your sake.
So you owe this to them. You owe it to them to at least try.
You spend several hours typing out a script that ends up a couple thousand words too long. No no no, delete. Attempting to make a shorter one leaves you with only a few words on your page, and you breathe through the tightness coiling in your chest. What would Undyne do, you find yourself thinking.
“Follow ur heart!!” says the little Undyne in your head.
Thanks, Undyne.
“Hey, Frisk, c-can I... can I talk to you?”
Although, on second thought, maybe you should go to the real deal before following head!Undyne’s advice.
Frisk glances up at you from where they’re making a box stitch lanyard at the table. They nod before turning back to the slowly growing inch of plastic in their hands, and you take a small breath. Should you sit down? No, that’d make it too awkward.
“Do you remember, back when we first met, um, when I thought you were the one who wrote me that letter and I took you to the dump?”
They don’t look up, but their neutral expression twitches into a small smile as they nood. Good. That’s good.
“Well, I just wanted to say that- that what I realized back then. About telling the truth. I...” You wring your hands together, trying to gather your thoughts. “I never, um. I know what it’s like, to feel like you need to hide something, and- and there’s nothing wrong with being scared! But I know how it feels to think there’s no one you can talk to, and I just wanted you to know that- that you don’t have to be alone,” you breathe, all the words stumbling out at once. You’re very careful to not look at their face, but their hands have gone still. “And- and if there’s anything you ever want, or need, to uh, to talk about, or get off your chest, I can’t promise to understand, but, I can at least promise to be here for you, and help you in any way I can.” Pushing your glasses up your nose, you ignore the sweat beading on your forehead and give them a shaky smile. “Okay?”
They don’t look up. The smile is gone, usual passive frown in its place, and for a second you’re not sure if they’re even breathing. Oh no. You messed up. You shouldn’t have said anything, you should have just left them alone, god-- but then they pat the space at the table across from them, and you nearly stumble in your haste to sit.
After several long minutes of waiting, wondering if they’re waiting for you to talk first, they drop the lanyard, and their hands begin to move.
///
“Chara! You have to stay determined! You can’t give up! You are the future of humans and monsters...”
Click.
///
“So... the entire time... you could do all of this?”
You’re itching for a pen and paper, but you’re here as a friend, not a scientist, and your claws are shaking too hard to hold a writing utensil right now anyway. Frisk nods, rubbing a thumb into their palm.
You went into this expecting... Well, you don’t know what you were expecting, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t time travel.
“Oh, Frisk, I--” You stop yourself, taking a breath. “I don’t, um, really know what to say about all this, to be honest. I’m not... I’m not the best with words. Obviously, haha. But. Thank you? For trusting me with this. I mean, the biggest secrets are the hardest to tell, and this is huge.”
‘Please don’t tell anybody,’ they say, eyebrows drawn. ‘Nobody else can know. Please.’
You shake your head, “No, no, of course not! Your secret is safe with me!” You don’t think it’s helping them, to keep it all to themself like this, but the last thing you’re going to do right now is try to convince them to tell anyone else.
‘Thank you.’ They bite their lip, and after a moment, they shake their head as if to clear their thoughts, looking to the side. ‘But that’s not all. There’s something else you should know.’
You blink. “O-oh?”
‘I have--’
They freeze. Their arms are shaking, like they’re straining against something, but their hands don’t move and their face twists in frustration and anger and something else. They look like- like they’re at war with themself almost, and you know this is when you should tell them it’s okay, that they don’t have to tell you anything, but...
“It’s Chara,” you say instead, “isn’t it.”
They’re frozen, but for an entirely different reason, now. For a couple of seconds, all they do is stare at you, eyes wide, until they burst into a flurry of signs. ‘How do you know about Chara?’
You tap a claw against the table, wishing desperately that this was a conversation you could have over text. “Well, I- I assume...you’ve seen the tapes. The ones in the old lab. But there’s, um, there’s more where that came from. Enough that I was kind of able to guess what’s going on...?” You laugh, awkwardly. “A-anyway, sorry. It’s really none of my business, I just--”
“You’re right,” Frisk says, “It’s none of your business at all.”
All you can do is stare at them, but they jerk back the second the words leave their mouth. ‘Sorry!’ they say, and then “I’m not,” and ‘Shut up!!’
“I-is that--”
“Greetings!” they say, entirely too cheerful, “It’s me, Chara, the kid whose brother you turned into a soulless flower and doomed to an eternity of suffering. Lovely weather today, isn’t it?”
Frisk buries their face in their hands.
Your soul sinks into your stomach. You can just tell your face has blanched, because you may not understand what’s going on exactly, but of course they’d blame you for that; why wouldn’t they? Your regret radiates so sharply you can feel the ache in your fingers, and you take a breath.
“You’re right,” you say. “That is m-my fault. He never would’ve ended up like that if- if it weren’t for me, and I deserve a-all of your judgement, okay? So if there’s- anything I can do to help you. Either of you. Just. Let me know? Please?”
Frisk (or is it?) peers up at you from between their fingers, and you bite your lip. You wouldn’t blame them if they rejected your offer; why would they ever want help from you? But they sigh, and say, “You said you have more tapes.”
///
“Asriel smells,” Chara whispers into the echo flower, and there’s a soft Hey! as Asriel pushes them lightly.
“Chara smells more!” he says. The screen blurs, and it settles on Chara as they stick their tongue out.
“Dork.” They brush themself off as they stand. “Come on, let’s go back. Mom said she’s making Butts Pie tonight.”
“Okay!” The camera turns around to focus on Asriel’s serious face, and he leans in close to the lens, whispering solemnly, “Butts Pie is serious business.”
Click.
The TV shuts off as the tape ends, and there’s only silence for several seconds.
“That’s all of them,” you say, voice sounding too loud in the small room. “All of the ones th-that I found, anyway.”
They haven’t looked away from the screen since the tapes started playing, and they don’t look away now, hands clasped together tightly in their lap. It’s too dark to tell without the extra light from the TV, but you think you spotted a few tears tracking down their face. You’re not sure they’ve noticed.
“...Thank you,” they say after a while. “I thought... I didn’t know there were more.”
“I found them in the library inside the castle,” you supply when they don’t continue. “I don’t, um. I don’t think Asgore’s watched them.”
“Good,” they say, not hesitating at all.
“Don’t you think he deserves to know? And Toriel too?” you say, and they turn to you then, smiling viciously.
“Would you like to be the one to tell them? ‘Here’s a bunch of tapes proving one of your kids committed fucking suicide and dragged the other one down with them, jumpstarting another war that ended with six children dead!’’ There voice rises in volume sharply, and they laugh when you wince, ducking your head. “I thought so. You can’t do it, and I won’t put that on Frisk, and they- they can’t know I’m still here.”
You don’t look at them as they wipe at their face. “Why not?” you ask, and then more hesitantly, “...Don’t you miss them?”
They pause. “Of course I do,” they say quietly. “But, I. I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve them. How can I look them in the face after everything that happened?”
Looking at their shape in the dark, you’re struck, suddenly, by how young they sound. They’re just a child. A kid should never have to deal with the things they’ve gone through, should never have to think the things they’re saying now.
“I know how that feels,” you start, voice soft. “After everything that happened with the Amalagamates. And... and Asriel. Even if no one else knows about the last part, I thought for sure everyone would hate me for the first, but... they forgave me. A-and I don’t deserve that. I really don’t. B-b-but it’s not up to us to decide what we deserve!” You square your jaw, unable to gauge their expression in the low light. “I won’t try to convince you, but I want you to know that if you ever decide to come forward, I’m here to support you all the way!”
There’s silence for a second. Then, “You’ve been watching too much anime,” they say, hopping off the couch. “You still have any instant noodles?”
Spluttering, you move to follow them out of the room. It’s way too much of a reach to think they like you, and you have no doubt it’ll take an even longer time for them to trust you, but. You’re willing to get to know them better for as long as they’ll allow. Maybe, if they let you, over time you can show them you actually have a lot of things in common.
Smiling against the nervous flutter in your chest, you shut off the flickering light as you exit the room.
Click.