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mothandpidgeon · 2 months

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Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

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pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you.

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller.

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely.

Her words still ring in your ears.

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life.

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said.

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you.

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart.

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder.

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says.

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask.

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room.

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid.

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you.

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better.

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now.

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say.

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture.

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say.

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh.

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles.

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her.

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there.

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time.

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face.

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy.

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself.

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze.

“Mercy?” Sarah asks.

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass.

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air.

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her.

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around.

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.”

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night.

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller.

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away.

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands.

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor.

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps.

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something.

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies.

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral.

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break.

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster.

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk.

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground.

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence.

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you.

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged.

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete.

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her.

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet.

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill.

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers.

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says.

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her.

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle.

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck.

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away.

You wait for a long time.

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now.

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes.

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine.

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare.

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you.

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family.

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope.

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning.

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday.

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt.

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you.

He left you to die but you just go on living.

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night.

You’re on your own.

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her.

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead.

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head.

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk.

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north.

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival.

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you.

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal.

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven.

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached.

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall.

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table.

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home.

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you.

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright.

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage.

“That really you?” he asks.

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope.

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife?

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner.

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller.

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up.

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become.

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up.

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel.

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival.

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago.

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath.

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall.

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened.

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks.

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out.

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes.

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says.

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you.

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious.

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself.

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder.

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark.

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back.

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say.

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing.

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall.

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel.

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today.

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine.

“You okay?” Ellie asks.

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much.

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall.

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers.

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken.

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says.

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out.

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache.

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted.

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you.

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded.

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves.

“Want some company?” you ask.

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in.

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him.

“Surprised you remember,” he says.

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.”

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living.

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything.

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck.

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down.

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.”

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him.

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says.

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear.

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him.

A thick knot forms in his throat.

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch.

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end.

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out.

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky.

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well.

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect.

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask.

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains.

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates.

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since.

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes.

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile.

“How’s she look?” you ask.

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods.

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair.

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library.

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor.

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all.

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”.

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved.

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly.

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink.

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy.

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze.

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing.

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet.

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago.

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek.

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours.

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it.

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say.

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went.

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night.

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning.

And then you kissed him.

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing.

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone.

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you.

That’s when he heard it.

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong.

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you.

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again.

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself.

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you.

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you.

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon.

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth.

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs.

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says.

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply.

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says.

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life.

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there.

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips.

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open.

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers.

“Stay,” you murmur.

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back.

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress.

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well.

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further.

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could.

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.

After a while, though, it happens.

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them.

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light.

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment.

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him.

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper.

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up.

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever.

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want.

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul.

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass.

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him.

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him.

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply.

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this.

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories.

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before.

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back.

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?”

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft.

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself.

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all.

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart.

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection.

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years.

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller fic #bfd!joel miller #jackson!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic

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i2sunric · 2 months

Text

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE part 2 (s.jy)

pairing: rich boy!jake x reader (f)

summary: after jake’s betrayal, you tried try pick up the pieces of your broken heart by replacing him with heeseung, even if they never truly fitted back together— not until your realised jake’s heart was in worse shape.

warnings: sexual tension, angst, hurt/comfort, making out, kissing, smut (blowjob, missionary, doggy, riding, creampie, hair pulling, chocking), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!) fighting, alcohol consumption, usage of weed, curse words, pet names (baby, ma cherie), hyung line (minus jake) are actually a conspiracy for jakeyn. Imk if more. PROOFREAD → READ PART 1

published: 13th May 2024

wc: 6.8k

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore (one shot) @anittamaxwynn @jvjsssnaa @slut4hee @kgneptun @nyxtwixx @laurradoesloveu @star4rin @capri-cuntz @eneyiri @samouryed @heyniki @ineedsomezzz @nanamomgmong @aishigrey @naurrjakeu @ak-aaa-li @sjakewrld @nikiswifiee @koralira-kira @daisycottage @yunhoswrldddd @smisworld @cloud-lyy @avaleyshin @soobinbunnie5 @ikeulims @tuituibzhe @starggukies @icywinter1999 [BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED]

a/n: aight this actually turned out longer than i intended and did i really write smut while listening to windows down by big time rush? yes. having a keylock doesn’t mean you’re poor btw (i also have a keylock). please REBLOG & LIKE to share! also lmk your thoughts by commenting 🎀 tysm for loving this fic!

You stared yet again at the reflection in front of you. Tear stains had ruined your makeup, your mascara that claimed to be waterproof was now coating your cheeks until your chin.

You gripped the sink in anger, your knuckles turning white at the force.

A lot of curse words flashed in your mind, but none were strong enough to represent your current state.

How could you be so oblivious? You thought Jake and you had something, something that went beyond just two people who met at a frat party.

You felt it, inside your heart, the way it tickled every time you heard his sweet chuckle leave his lips, seeming like the only light in the darkness of life.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather all the shattered pieces of your heart, laying open there. If that was how it hurt, you sure as hell weren’t going to give anyone else the key to access to it.

“What’s a pretty girl crying in the bathroom for?” A voice snapped you out of your trance. You raised your face and met a pair of known, dark eyes.

“Heeseung.” You breathed out, not even bothering to turn around. That moment almost felt like a deja vù, probably because that same bathroom was where your lips first met Jake’s.

Trying to block out all the memories of that Australian man, you turned around and leaned back on the countertop.

“Glad you still remember my name.” He said, licking his bottom lip, “Found out your prince charming wasn’t as innocent as you thought?”

You frowned at his words “How’d you know?” And Heeseung just chuckled bitterly in response “I invited you to my party in hope of having you for myself.”

His eyes roamed all over your body “Just to find out you were at it with my best friend.” You rolled your eyes. “We just made out, nothing more.”

If you thought Jake was bold, Heeseung was shameless. He was looking at you like you were a gazelle in the lion’s den, eyes scanning your body, probably imagining you without clothes.

“Well, he’s busy now.” You turned around and looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to clean the mascara stains on your face.

“With Karina?” Heeseung nodded at himself, “She was there before you.”

You turned around again, a deeply offended expression painting your features “Excuse me?”

Heeseung smirked, cleaning your cheeks with his own thumbs “You really thought Sim Jake would fall in love with a mediocre girl?” He cooed “Aw, poor you. Jake had always been greedy, he would never settle for someone who isn’t from his own neighbourhood.”

“And why are you telling me this?” You asked warily, not fully believing the words leaving his mouth. You wanted to stay with your impression of the kind and playful Jake. Not the player, not the heartbreaker.

“Because he isn’t worth your tears, pretty.” Heeseung’s voice was husky and hoarse, you couldn’t almost understand his words “But I am, when I’ll fuck you so hard.”

You pushed his chest away, “Disgusting.” But Heeseung only laughed in response, “I was kidding.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped aside of him “I’m going home.” You were almost out of the door when his big hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush on his chest.

“Or, I have a better idea.” You raised a brow. “You don’t look like someone who has nice ideas.”

“Just trust me.” He wiggled his brows “I know you’re known for seducing and then leaving.”

You scowled “If that’s my reputation on your side of the town.” His fingers trailed your arm until they reached your shoulder, caressing the bare skin “In my opinion, that’s hot.”

“I don’t remember asking.” You sighed, having heard his flattering already when he was courting you, a couple of weeks before.

“I’m saying, we go downstairs.” Heeseung bit his bottom lip, playing with the strap of your dress. “And we get a taste of each other, just let your mind drift off.” He said, lowering down to whisper in your ear.

You honestly weren’t in the mood to make out with someone, let alone be in a room full of teenagers drunk off their tits— But what could you do better to fix your broken heart?

“I hope you improved your kissing skills.”

𓆩♡𓆪

If stares could kill, then the ones Jake was giving you as you basically straddled Heeseung in the middle of his living room got you dead a few minutes before.

Your lips were attached, rarely pulling away, just enough to catch your breath while his hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you in place on his laps.

Jake was still with that pretty woman whose name you learnt was Karina. And in fact, she was deadly gorgeous, you almost didn’t blame Jake for leaving you for her. But you were Y/N, nobody should’ve dared to play with your heart that same cruel way Jake did.

“You don’t mind making out with me in front of him?” You asked on Heeseung’s lips, licking his bottom one “Nah,” He cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer “You weren’t a thing anyways, were you?”

Your heart stopped at his words, because in fact, you and Jake weren’t anything. You had never been, it was foolish of you to even hope for it.

“No, we weren’t.” You replied in a whisper, “Perfect.” Heeseung resumed kissing you, more roughly this time.

Jake needed something stronger than the mild cup of beer in his hand to forget your presence in the room. Smashing his head on the wall seemed like a good option since not only did you attend the party but were also making out with his best friend.

He called it on himself, he knew nothing good would come with playing with you, but he couldn’t erase all that he had done.

Trying to cancel the image of Heeseung with his hands all over you, he turned to the side to give his attention to the raven haired girl beside him “So, when’s your brother coming home from Paris again?”

Karina smiled at the mention “Sunghoon is coming back in two days!” She informed him, “He also wanted to invite you guys over.”

Jake beamed back at his other best friend’s older sister and nodded “That sounds good, I haven’t seen him in one month or so.”

Karina rolled her eyes “Yeah, I came back as soon as work finished but he claimed he wanted to ‘sightsee’ the city before returning here.”

He smiled “Living his best life, I see.” He patted her shoulder, the touch on her exposed skin only made him remember how your body felt when it was wrapped around his, kissing you all over.

He hoped he could have done more, to be with you longer so that he would have experienced having you laid down beneath him, in your whole essence and beauty. He wished he had a chance to do that— But the universe wasn’t on his side.

You hadn’t realised how much fun those rich kids could have. You thought they talked about horses and lake cottages in their free time but they actually were so much more than that!

Or maybe it was whatever Heeseung made you smoke that was altering your thoughts.

You were currently sitting on his laps, your back pressed against his chest as you took a drag out of the joint between your fingers.

You giggled at something one of Heeseung’s friends said, you weren't even sure why you were laughing but it sounded fun.

Heeseung caressed your back, trailing circles on your shoulder as he took a drag from his own joint “Having fun, Y/N?” He asked and you nodded “Much.”

“Mhmh, I bet you are.” He smirked, “First time smoking weed?”

You nodded again “Jake said I looked like I did it daily,” You chuckled “But I never tried.”

“Did he?” He whispered, getting close to your neck, leaving kitten licks “You talk a lot about him.”

“No.” You frowned “I don’t.” Heeseung chuckled and started sucking on your sensitive skin, making you let out a moan.

His big hand went to cover your mouth as he worked on your neck, sucking and biting enough to leave a hickey “You talked about him the whole night, haven't you even realised?”

You widened your eyes at his statement. No, you hadn’t realised, but when his name rolled out of your tongue it just sounded so right.

You just shook your head, unable to reply verbally since his hand was on your lips.

You closed your eyes, trying to block out any thought at the feeling of Heeseung’s lips on your neck and the weed clouding your mind.

“Are you mad?” A strict voice suddenly snapped you out of your state of trance as you felt yourself being ripped away from Heeseung’s grasp.

You opened your eyes just to find a very rather and deeply angry Jake standing in front of you, if he was in a cartoon you’d see his veins pulsing on his forehead.

“He’s Jake!” You exclaimed happily to Heeseung, the effect of the amount of alcohol you drank and the intoxication from weed made you act hyper “I know.” Heeseung replied calmly.

Jake pulled you behind his back “What were you thinking? Making her smoke this shit?”

You frowned “It’s good—“ But Heeseung cut you “Relax man, we were just having fun.”

“This is not having fun.” He took the joint from your hand and threw it to Heeseung “Don’t get her into your addictions.”

Heeseung raised a brow, his expression remaining stoic “She was willing.” Jake snapped back “She’s drunk!”

He took a deep breath and pointed a threatening finger toward Heeseung “Do not pull this ever again.” He stated before taking your hand in his and dragging you out of the party.

Meanwhile, Heeseung smirked as he saw the two of you walk away; Maybe that was when his best friend would finally wake up and realise all the things he was losing.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Hey!” You exclaimed, trying to pull away from his iron grip “Yunjin is still inside.” Jake let out a small groan “I’ll drive her home later.”

You pulled hard on his hand, making him stop right in front of his crimson car “Let me go.”

Jake’s eyes were full of rage, you were almost scared at their intensity “Are you angry?”

“Yes.” He stated, voice serious “At me?” You asked, your voice was so soft and quiet it made his heart jump out of his ribcage “No, not at you.”

Your eyes were red and bloodshot, your breath heavy “How many did you smoke?” He asked, trying to contain his tone.

You gulped down, lowering your gaze “Two.” Jake nodded and opened the door of his car, letting you in.

“I’m going to kill Heeseung somedays.” He mumbled, walking to the other side and entering the driver seat.

He started the engine and drove in silence, the late hours of the night not as lively as they usually were.

When you reached a stoplight, Jake opened a small bottle of water he had in his car and handed it to you “Drink, I want it all finished before we reach your house.”

You raised a brow, your mind was already puzzled and his actions only added to your confusion “Why?”

“Just listen to me.” He dismissed your question and started driving again while you drank small sips from the bottle.

You soon reached your house, this time Jake parked his car unauthorisedly in front of it, exiting the car to open the door for you.

You looked up at him, your vulnerable state making him want to protect you even more. Damn Heeseung.

“I couldn’t finish it all��” You murmured, showing him only the half-empty bottle of water.

His eyes softened. “That’s ok, at least you drank some.” You smiled up at him and stumbled a little as you tried to reach your house door.

Jake helped you, holding you up with his arms under your armpits “Shoot, Y/N. Why did you drink so much?” He let out a huff, as he was basically supporting all your weight.

You leaned on the wall and handed Jake your purse, not really in the state to open the door.

“What’s the code?” He asked and looked at your door, just to realise there was no code to access inside it, your door still needed a key to be opened.

His stomach dropped, another mental check of how different your lives were “Inside the purse.” You murmured.

Jake nodded and opened your purse, taking out the keys and opening the door, holding it open.

“You’re mad at me?” You asked again, your eyes half-lidded and you could barely hold yourself up— yet you were ever so pretty.

The moonlight shone on you, lighting up your skin, your hair falling down your face, messy but gorgeous. So dishevelled but so pretty.

“No, Y/N. I’m not mad at you.” He repeated, his tone sincere “Then… Then why you ignored me?” You asked, the pout on your lips only making him want to bite on them.

He gave you the purse back and pushed you a little so that you walked in “Go straight to bed, don’t wake your parents up. You don’t want them to see you like this.”

You nodded obediently and Jake caressed your cheek with his thumb before turning around. He stopped right in front of your door and smiled “I’m doing this for you, ma chérie.” And then closed the door.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Hey man,” Jake greeted Sunghoon as he entered his house, giving him a high five, “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah, glad to see you too.” Sunghoon nodded and closed the door behind his back.

“Am I the last one?” Jake asked, walking to the couch and sitting on it, bouncing a couple of times.

“No,” A wild Jay appeared from the kitchen where he was cooking something for dinner, already busy since late afternoon. “Heeseung texted he’d be late.”

“As always.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes and sat down beside him “I swear, he never changes.”

“Jay told me you will take over your father’s company,” Sunghoon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes “Congratulations.”

“Yeah.” Jake laughed “Thanks.” Awkward silent filled the room, the only sound being Jay’s pots as he cooked. Sunghoon eyed him up and down, leaning back on the couch and resting his head on his hand “Hadn’t you rebelled to your parents?”

“Rumours fly.” He smiled forcefully “It was just a silly thing. I actually realised I should make them proud after eveything they did for me.”

“And what exactly did they do for you, Jake?” Sunghoon’s voice was low, his gaze piercing.

Jake just cleared his throat and changed the topic “So, how was Paris?” He asked “I know you booked a hotel near the Eiffel Tower. Bet it was awesome.”

Sunghoon tsked “Indeed. I’ll show you the picture if you want.” Jake answered positively when the doorbell rang.

“You get the door, it must be Heeseung.” Sunghoon got up from the sofa and patted his pockets “I’ll search for my phone.”

Jake got up as well and walked to the door, the doorbell rang again and he sighed “Yeah, coming.” He opened it and widened his eyes when he saw another familiar figure beside Heeseung.

He took in the sight of you, wearing comfortable clothes, looking ever so dreamy.

His gaze fixed on the hickey Heeseung made you a couple of days before, now all dark and purplish. He gulped “What is she doing here?”

“I invited her.” Heeseung shrugged, stepping aside Jake and walking inside the house.

You were left with him, staring at each other’s faces, acting as if both of your hearts weren’t pounding “How’s the after effect?”

There was no context but you knew what he meant “Good, I’m a big woman. No joint can kill me.” You replied, walking beside him when no more words were exchanged. Truth to be told the next day you woke up with a throbbing headache, regretting all of your life choices— though the biggest one was the hickey on your neck.

“I thought you didn’t want to hang out on this side of the town.” Jake spoke, his tone sounding mocking. You scowled “Maybe I changed my mind.” You walked faster toward the kitchen where everyone was gathered.

You got to know Jake’s friend group. Aside from Heeseung and him, you had only seen Jay at the last party. You later found out Sunghoon was on a business trip in Paris which was why you hadn’t seen him before, but even if you did he wasn’t the happiest about your presence, so you thought you wouldn’t have been friends.

Jay, on the other end, was sophisticated and kind, the two of them looking ever so the stereotype of rich kids.

Heeseung and Jake were rather normal, they could’ve passed as the kids from your neighbourhood if you didn't know their true identities.

“I brought some snacks.” Sunghoon announced, placing a sachet on the table. He took out all kinds of sweet things, but your eyes lit up at the sight of macaroons.

You had only seen their pictures and let your mind wander at what their taste would be like, but now they were in front of you, so you reached your hand and took one.

“You like ‘em?” Heeseung asked, taking the chocolate flavoured one and eating it “I’ve never tried them.” The whole table fell silent, all the boys stopping in their tracks.

“Never?” Jay questioned and you shook your head “That’s a bummer though, I only bought four for the four of us.” Sunghoon was about to take the vanilla flavoured macaroon out of your hand when Jake slapped it away.

“I don’t like them anyways, she can have mine.” Jay frowned at his friend’s words “You love macar—“ He was shushed by a biscuit placed in his mouth by Jake “I don’t like them.” He repeated.

You bit on the small treat and your eyes formed hearts “It’s so good!” You said, munching on it. And you didn’t know it, but Jake’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of you so happy.

You continued to spend time with them, playfully beefing with Sunghoon as if you weren’t an intruder in his house until they decided to go in the free time room to play billiard.

“But I don’t know how to play billiards.” You pouted, watching all the men gather around the pool table.

“That’s ok, you can just watch.” Sunghoon dismissed you quickly, placing himself in front of you to posionate the balls inside the triangle.

You just scoffed and sat on the kitchen counter, crossing your arms on your chest.

You watched the game develop in front of your eyes, never truly understanding its rules. They were too useless and complicated and you stopped paying attention in the middle.

After what seemed like forever, where you had the time to walk around Sunghoon’s big house three times and even have a chat with his maids — cause apparently, rich kids could even afford maidens — you entered the kitchen again just to see it was empty.

You looked around, checking if anyone was there before following Sunghoon’s previous actions, placing the balls in the triangle to align them.

You didn’t know what they found interesting in billiards, and trying to understand it wasn’t going to get you killed.

You took the cue stick and positioned yourself, copying the boys’ postures.

Something must’ve gone wrong, though, because as you pushed the cue you embarrassingly missed it.

“You are too far with your back.” The same voice that haunted your dreams spoke from behind you, making you flinch.

“Chill, it’s just me.” Jake stated, munching on some chips “Heeseung wondered if you wanted something to eat.”

You smirked, leaning on the table “Heeseung or you?” Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t deny your questioning.

He gulped down his food and stared at you “You want to play pool?”

“I already said I don’t know how to do that.” You repeated, glancing back at the untouched balls “I don’t even understand the rules.”

“Here.” Jake’s accent tickled your ears as he made you turn around with his hands on your hips “Bend just a little.” You didn’t know if his voice was really that low or if he was doing it just to tease you— Whatever was his plan, you were down for it.

“Mh? Like this?” You said with your most innocent voice, bending slightly more on the table, just enough to make your ass touch his front hips.

He let out a faint groan “Yeah.” He tried not to show the effect you had on him and trailed his fingers along your arms until he reached the cue stick in your hands. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the contact.

“Then?” You asked, eager for him to touch you. “Then you place the cue like this.” He shifted your fingers so you could grip it the right way and turned his face, you could feel his breath on your skin and the tip of his nose poking your cheek.

There was also something else poking your ass cheeks, which was why you started moving, briefly. Just to tease him.

“Take the aim.” The combination of his voice and the proximity of your bodies made your mind hazy, making it hard for you to concentrate.

You just let him guide you “And… Shoot.” You pushed the cue between your fingers and finally, all the balls moved around the green table.

One went into the hole and you jumped happily “I did it!” You exclaimed, laughing “You saw?” You asked, turning around.

Jake was staring at you with ever so deep eyes, full of emotions you didn’t quite get but felt inside of you as well “I always see you.”

𓆩♡𓆪

You weren’t sure why Heeseung invited you to yet another party, or the reason as to why you seemed to be the only girl at a boys hang out, but you weren’t going to complain.

The hotel you guys were staying in was huge, apparently it belonged to Heeseung’s parents and you could have it all for yourself the whole night.

Wearing the best dress you owned you presented yourself at the location beside the raven haired man.

You greeted his friends group and noticed there were many other people, unlike you thought, all partying and dancing together.

It was very different from the ones he usually threw at his house, this one was huge and packed, there was almost no space to go through the crowd.

“And you said I couldn’t bring Yunjin along.” You side eyed Heeseung, earning a shrug. “One girl from the other side is already enough.”

You slapped lightly on his shoulder “Rude.” Heeseung laughed and pushed your back a little. “Go have fun, I have guests to greet.”

Feeling like a mouse surrounded by cats, you made your way through the crowd, trying to ignore the thirsty stares you were receiving. Since that fateful night where you willingly let your heart out for Jake you had become more careful with your possible make outs.

As you turned your face to look at the big pool where people were swimming, you accidentally bumped someone's chest, which made you stumble backwards.

“Sorry,” You murmured, about to walk away when a hand came around your wrist. It wasn’t Jake’s, the one you were used to, it was much rougher and tighter.

You glanced up just to notice a tall guy, probably high judging from his bloodshot eyes and twitching nose. Holy Moly.

That guy lowered to match your height, his hot and smelly breath made your nose scrunch in disgust “Hey, gorgeous.”

Your whole body froze and your heart stopped beating for a few seconds “Uh… Hi.” You laughed awkwardly, trying to remove your hand from his grip.

“You bumped me by mistake?” He asked, getting dangerously close “Or did you want my attention. You didn’t have to pull that act, my attention is all yours now.” His words were so slurred you could barely understand them.

“Actually, it was a mistake.” You said and again tried to pull away from him, but the more you tried the more he got closer.

“Don’t lie.” He whispered and wrapped one arm around your waist. You were trapped, your breath hitching.

“I truly am not.” You pushed his chest away, resulting in him only tightening his grip “Come on… Let’s have fun.”

“She said it was a mistake.” A familiar voice with a thick accent, thicker than usual, commented, placing one hand on the guy’s shoulder.

The guy groaned and raised himself in all his height, turning around in slow motion — or maybe it was just your panicked vision playing tricks — toward Jake.

He stood in front of him, unfazed by how big and tall that guy was as he stared at him with a dark gaze.

“And who are you to interrupt us?” The guy asked, his voice too low for your own likings “Her guy.” Jake said as if it was the most obvious answer, raising a brow.

“So, I suggest you walk the fuck away before I throw one punch on your nose and break it.” You had never seen Jake angry, you had a few fantasies about it, but you would’ve never imagined him being so scary (and hot).

His whole aura was inky, arms crossed on his chest, showing his excessively veiny arms.

That guy was surely drunk but not enough to risk his own life. He raised his hands in a submissive manner and nodded “Alright, sorry man.” Jake tilted his head “It’s not me you have to apologise to.”

He took a moment to comprehend his words “Oh.” He then turned to you and scratched the back of his neck “I’m sorry.” He didn’t wait for your reply and just walked away.

Your eyes then met Jake’s, filled with wrath “I—“ You said but were met by his hand around your wrist, this time your body not repulsing it as that guy’s and he dragged you inside the hotel.

“Jake, let go.” You tried to fight him but he was stronger, dragging you through the corridors until he reached what would’ve been a storage room, full of pillows and sheets supplies “Let go, it hurts.”

Jake loosened his grip “You really have trouble written on your forehead.” He snapped, his breath heavy as he paced around the room “I can’t look away from you that you’re getting yourself into something bad.”

You frowned at his harsh words “That’s not true.” Jake scowled “Is it not? You either get high or almost—“ He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

“Why do you even care anyways?” You said back, brows knitted “You’re the one who used me.”

Jake stopped in his tracks “Used you?” He got closer to you.

“Yes,” You stepped forward as well. “You just used me, made me think you actually cared about me just to rebel against your parents.”

You gulped, your heart breaking again at the memory “Next thing I know, you’re ignoring me and smiling at a pretty girl.”

“Did you fuck her, Jake?” He was taken aback from your words, placing his hands on your shoulders. You shrugged him off, he still remained in your proximity without touching you.

“I think I lost something here, who was I smiling at?” You clicked your tongue, your hands on your waist as you got frustrated.

“That girl, last Saturday.” You explained “Dark hair, killer body, tall… Come on Jake, just admit it you wanted someone to fuck but I didn’t and so you went with someone else.”

“That’s really not what I did. I would never.” He blinked faintly “That girl, she’s Karina, Sunghoon’s sister.” He then added “I don’t like her, not that way.”

You wanted to scowl at him, but his tone was so serious you found yourself asking “..What?”

“You’re not the problem, Y/N.” Jake said, sighing “It’s me, it’s all my fault.”

You shook your head, confused. “What— Jake, I don’t understand.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to help me.” He backed up until his back hit the wall, running a frustrated hand in his hair “I exposed you to my parents— I—“

You moved to him, taking his face in your hand “Stop mumbling.” You ordered “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Despite the way he treated you in the past week, your touch was still gentle and you worried about him. A spark of hope lit his heart up.

Jake nodded and took a deep breath “My parents… they said that if I didn’t break up with you they’d make yours lose their job. You’d lose your house… I couldn’t do that, Y/N.”

He seemed as if he was slowly loosing his mind. You took in the sight of him, dark circles under his eyes, he looked paler wearing that white shirt. Just what on earth had he been doing?

“They’re powerful, with the amount of money they have they can easily buy your whole neighbourhood and evict you.” He gulped down “So I am preparing to take over the company, to make them happy.”

Your eyes widened at his words, “They threatened you?” You asked, removing your hands from his cheeks to stand properly.

Jake shrugged, “We weren’t together so technically I couldn’t break up with you, but I could stay away if it meant you’d be safe.” He sighed softly, “I told you I’m a bad bet since the first time we met.”

“No,” You shook your head “You aren’t bad, your parents are.”

He scoffed, “And I’m just like them.”

You fisted the collar of his shirt and brought his lips down to yours. He was shocked by your sudden action but he relaxed soon and closed his eyes, kissing you back.

“Say that again and your face will meet my fist.” You breathed out as you pulled away “You don’t get how brave you are? You were about to sacrifice your happiness to save my family… someone you met at a party.”

“You’re not just someone I met at a party.” Jake whispered “In just a couple of days you made my whole life better, you made me realise there’s so much more than what I was used to.”

He placed one hand in your hair, caressing your scalp “I never meant to hurt you, baby.”

Your heart jumped as you heard his whisper, the pet name making your head spin “Later, I want you to explain everything to me everything.” You demanded.

Jake nodded “Everything you want, queen.” Your breath quickened “But for now…” You trailed off and connected your lips again.

You kissed him, roughly and he did it back with the same intensity, having missed the taste of you, the scent of your perfume invading his nostrils, clouding his mind.

“Let me take you home,” He murmured between kisses “In your bedroom.”

You shook your head, stumbling backward and bringing him with you “Can’t wait.”

“You sure about this?” He asked as you got out of the storage room, bodies still tangled “I could be bad, worse than you think.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down on you “Then, I wanna find out.”

Jake let out a small groan and resumed kissing you, blindly reaching a doorknob and praying nobody was inside.

He dragged you in and locked the door behind your backs.

Jake pushed you against the wall as he undid the buttons of his shirt while you unbuckled his belt, your lips never leaving each other.

He discarded his shirt and helped you unzip his jeans, throwing all of them somewhere on the floor.

He then removed the straps of your dress, slowly kissing all the way down your neck to your almost exposed chest. He pulled away, enough to look at the now barely-visible hickey Heeseung did.

Jake let out a deep groan “You don’t know how much this drove me insane.” He commented, trailing his thumb over it

“Yeah?” You asked “Were you jealous?”

“I wanted to rip his head off.” He said, kissing you again “Wanted to cover your whole body with hickeys and my marks, just to let him know who you belong to.”

You nodded, “Do it,” You breathed out “Make me yours, Jake.”

He unconsciously bucked his hips to meet yours, his clothed bulge poking your pussy “Fuck baby, you can’t tell me that.” He whispered, attaching his lips on your neck again.

Jake lowered the dress until it rested on your hips, palming your breasts, growling at the feeling.

You gasped when his lips engulfed your nipple, twirling his tongue round it. Your hand went to grasp his hair while the other slowly lowered his boxers until his painful erection was free.

Jake helped you out of your dress and underwear until you were standing in front of each other naked. “I’ll worship your body another time.” He murmured, trailing his fingers down your chest “For now, I just want to fuck you rough.”

You smirked and shook your head, making Jake widen his eyes “You don’t want this? I can stop.”

“No, I want it.” You stated, slowly sinking on your knees “I just need to show you my skills first.”

That was the hottest thing anyone could’ve done to Jake, his cock twitched in front of you. It was huge, veiny and hard, his mushroom tip looking ever so delicious.

“You see, baby? This is what you do to me.” He pumped his shaft, brushing it on your lips.

“Stick out that tongue for me.” You did as told and stuck your tongue out as Jake laid his cock on it, bucking his hips back and forth. The spongy and warm texture already making it leak with precum.

You played with his balls while you took him whole in your mouth, gagging when it hit the back of your throat. The filthy sounds filled the room as he took a hold of your head, fisting your hair in a makeshift ponytail while he thrusted inside your throat.

“So good.” He panted, his head thrown back and brows knitted.

You twirled your tongue around his cock, pumping it with your hands where your lips couldn’t reach “Sucking my cock so well.”

Before you could even register, Jake pulled out and raised you from your armpits, placing you on the bed.

“I need to feel your pussy.” He stated, rubbing your clit with his thumb “Want to use a condom, baby?” He asked, “Just tell me.”

You shook your head, bringing him down onto you in a heated kiss “Fuck me raw.” He moaned in the kiss and fisted his shaft again, gathering your juices, you got so wet even by just giving him a blow.

He slowly inserted himself in you, the stretch causing you to pant. You weren’t a virgin but he was bigger than the ones you had before, so it took a moment for you to get used to it.

Jake’s thrusts were nice and slow at first, his forehead resting on yours “I can’t resist.” He breathed out, giving a deeper thrust “Please, can I move?”

You nodded your head, trying to breathe steadily. Jake raised from you and spread your legs open while he moved inside you. You grasped your tits, palming them while maintaining eye contact with Jake.

“You don’t know how much I wanted this,” He groaned, pulling out just to spit on your hole to fill it again “Pussy so tight can barely move.”

Your hand went down to rub circles on your clit, trying to make it wetter as his thrusts gained speed.

Jake slapped your hand and commanded “Hands around your ankles.” And so you complied.

He leaned down and kissed you sloppily, his hips moving back and forth at a delicious rhythm. You moaned out loud.

Holding your head up to rest his forehead on it, your eyes still locked with the others as your body connected fanatically, Jake twitched inside of you and halted his movements.

“Fuckk, almost came.” He chuckled, pulling out of you.

“Want to last longer than this.” He took your body and turned you around, you raised yourself on your arms and leaned your ass up.

“You like being fucked in doggy, mh?” He spammed your ass “Looking so eager to be fucked dumb, you won’t think about anything but my cock in you.”

Jake pushed himself inside of you again, making you moan out his name “Yes, that’s me.” He groaned “Say it again.”

“Jake.” You gasped, he fisted your hair, making you arch your back while he rutted your body “Oh, Y/N.” He moaned as well.

Putting one hand around your neck, he squeezed it as he threw his own head back, lost in the pleasure your warm walls were giving you.

“Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last long.” He panted, stopping his movements to edge himself “Just fuck me.” You pleaded, frustrated by your own denied orgasm every time he stopped.

“Sorry,” He chuckled, spanking your ass and leaning down to kiss the back of your shoulder “You want to cum?”

You nodded, raising yourself to kiss him passionately as he slowly thrusted inside you “Can you ride me, baby? Pretty please?”

Jake looked so hot, messy bangs sticking to his forehead and heavy breath, you couldn’t do anything but agree to everything he said.

You waited for him to lay down, his back pressed against the headboard of the bed as you straddled him.

You rubbed your wet folds on his hard-on, Jake reached for your tits and squeezed them “Have I ever told you you’re so fucking hot?” He asked.

You chuckled “No, but I already know that.” You winked and raised yourself on your knees, slowly sinking down on his cock.

The stretch was still a little painful, but nothing compared to the pleasure his dick was giving you.

You moved on him, up and down at a slow but deep rhythm, feeling him all as he hit your cervix with each thrust.

Jake moved your hair out of your face, his lips attaching to your boob as if he was a toddler in desperate need of milk.

You moaned, your hands grasping his shoulders as you moved back and forth at a quick speed.

“Oh yes.” He put his hands behind his head and watched as you rode him, your mouth agape, gasping for air while shaky moans escaped your lips “Feels good.”

Your legs started to shake and you could barely keep yourself up as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten “I’ve got you.” Jake noticed and made you lay on his chest, his hands spreading your ass cheeks as he started rutting inside you, his pace so quick you didn’t know it was possible.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, creaming him as you fell apart, your moans loud and whole body shaking.

Jake didn’t stop, he chased his own orgasm which was so close.

“You're just made to please me.” He panted, giving a few more thrusts “You're made to squeeze every drop of cum from my cock.” His eyes rolled back with a low groan as he shot his load, his cock twitching until it emptied in you.

You both stayed there for a while, just trying to steady your breaths and calm your racing hearts.

Jake slowly traced your back with his fingers, a featherlight touch sending shivers all dove your spine.

He pulled out, his cum dripping down from your pussy to your thighs and bedsheets.

Jake helped you sit up and removed a few strands of hair that got stuck to your face “You look gorgeous.” He whispered, earning a smile from you “And you did amazing.”

He cleaned you up and threw the dirty sheets on the floor “I’m sorry for whoever will have to clean them tomorrow.” You commented, grimacing.

“Don’t worry about it,” He soothed, settling himself beside you and holding you on his chest, gently caressing your bare shoulder.

You looked up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You should start making choices for your own happiness, Jake.” You murmured

Jake let out a small sigh “Indeed, I should.” He pressed a kiss on your brow “I want to choose you, not my parents, not anyone else. Only you.” You smiled, “I only want you, too.”

“I’ll find a way to fight my parents, I promise I’ll be stronger this time.” Your eyes softened at his words, you caressed his cheek and he leaned on your palm, melting “Oh Jake, you’re the strongest person I know.” You confessed.

“Really?” He asked, looking like a lost boy, “Really.” You confirmed.

Suddenly, your stomach growled loudly. Jake glanced at his phone he had found in his forgotten jeans and put on the bedside table “It’s late night, ma chérie. You’re hungry?”

You nodded, “I want steak.” Jake snorted at your joke “And I want a burger.” He said back.

“Hanging out with a girl from the other side of the town changed you.” You smirked, nudging his shoulders

“Yeah. For the better.”

THE END.

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variantia · 1 year

Text

BELLUM. OKAY AS PROMISED !! some scenes from my adult Chara x reader fic, showing how I write them and their sibs as adults, as well as showcasing things that they’re STILL dealing with as an adult that they also dealt with as a child ... some lore about the cult ... and like. some scenes / dialogue just because I’m fucking proud of it ok

for context : initially Reader-chan starts out as a recently graduated college friend of Asriel’s, who he offers an office job to at the Monster Embassy. after spending A LOT of time around monsters with TONS of magic ... that kickstarts her own magical potential, and after a few months, Asriel offers her a permanent job as his adviser. she has the ability to CHECK, letting her analyze people and situations. (Frisk had a weak form of this ability during their adventure, but it’s not their main magic so it vanished after they left the Underground.) current more advanced techniques are her EMPATHIZE, which allows her to literally go into someone’s mind (allowing her to see memories and / or a general mindscape interpretation of their thoughts and feelings at any given moment) and CONFIDE, which allows her to let someone else into her mind. both EMPATHIZE and CONFIDE use up more magic and leave her drained, though, especially if using them for more than 2-3 minutes at a time. the bold text outside of any quotation marks is her CHECK giving her text to read. (or, inside a memory, it’s a manifestation of the thoughts of whoever’s head she’s inside of within that memory.)

also for context, Serena and Wen are Frisk’s boyfriend and girlfriend ~

there’s a lil bit here and BIG TRIGGER WARNINGS for stuff like child abuse, suicidal thoughts / behavior, and the like, so stay safe !

but if none of that is triggering for you and you’re curious ... please give me ur thoughts on my personal favorite parts of this MONSTER of a fic I am writing uwu <3

ALSO IT’S A LOT I’M SORRY, I HAVE A LOT OF FAVORITE PARTS WHERE I WANT TO SHOW OFF CHARA AND THEIR SIBS AND AAAAAA

these scenes go in chronological order, as well, so they’re easy to follow !

When Asriel makes his way over to Chara, they’re snickering uncontrollably. Their eyes are open again and fixed on you as you try to disentangle yourself from the same flood of reporters that nearly drowned their brother.

“Phew, man,” Asriel sighs as he settles into the space where you were just a moment ago, “(Name) came just at the right time. It was starting to get bad over there. I mean, how many pictures do those people want?”

He doesn’t get an answer save for an endless stream of giggling, prompting him to look over at his sibling with a raised eyebrow. “Chara? What’s so funny?”

One thin finger lifts, pointing at your futile struggle. With their other hand, they mime wiping a tear from their eye.

“She fell for it. Now she is trapped.”

Thankfully, unbeknownst to you, you’ve also passed their first test.

The unfortunate part is that it’s far from their last.

“I want to make sure you know this in no uncertain terms,” they begin, “mostly because you have everyone else fooled. Even yourself. And perhaps I was too polite the first time we met. However, allow me to make it very clear. You are not worthy of being friends with my brother. Nor are you worthy of being friends with Frisk. And you never will be.”

They tuck a lock of hair behind their ear. “As I mentioned before, humans have tricked themselves into believing they are good and deserve good things simply because they have shown the smallest modicum of respectability. We are all so very flawed. Just like all other humans, you cannot escape your faults. It is only a matter of time before you show my family or I just how selfish, cruel, cowardly, and merciless you are. And when you do, I will not stand idly by and let you hurt Asriel or Frisk with your flaws.”

There are a few heartbeats’ worth of silence, during which you could swear everything in the world has stopped. It feels like you and they are the only things moving.

It almost feels like you can’t even catch a breath.

Finally, they speak up again. Their voice is quieter this time, but no less full of rage. “Frisk is too optimistic to think anything bad of you before they see it for themself. And Asriel… despite how humans have hurt him, he still thinks there is good in humanity. They are both naive, and they are both dead wrong.”

Their eyes snap back to you. Blood red irises bore directly into your SOUL, and it’s as if they can see every single mistake you’ve ever made.

For half a second, there’s a flicker… like a glitch in a video game. For that half a second, you could swear their eyes turned pitch black.

The illusion ― or whatever it was ― is gone as soon as it came, though. You’re surprised you didn’t feel the need to let out some kind of ungodly shriek, because that face was terrifying.

“I will say this only once,” Chara continues, slowly. That smile of theirs grows more and more unnerving with every word. “If you keep your head down and leave my siblings be, you will have at least proven that you are not a fool. If you refrain from getting closer to either of them than you already are, you will have proven that you care about them in some small capacity.”

That same face flashes again, and their voice lowers.

“But if you hurt either of them, I promise, not only will I d e s t r o y y o u, I will enjoy doing so.”

Then, as an afterthought, “And do not even think about trying to get close to me. You and I? We are not friends. We are not buddies or pals or chums. You are a menace to the peaceful life my family is trying to live. You are a disaster waiting to happen, and I am too broken for you to even comprehend, let alone fix. There is not enough DETERMINATION in the world, if you have any in the first place, for you to bother trying with me. So do not.”

“… Thank you for the flowers,” they finally say. Even with that, you doubt that your earlier chrysanthemums will end up in their garden, and they probably won’t keep these longer than it takes to get you out of the room. However, you note that their voice is a touch softer than it usually is. “I must admit, I certainly did not expect you to go home and start studying floriography based on my comments. It is also odd that you managed to put together an arrangement that I read incorrectly.”

“Not really incorrectly…” You give a small shrug. “I-I mean, all the stuff you thought wasn’t, um, what I wanted it to mean… but you know better than I do that, uh… those flowers still mean the other things. You just, um, seemed to ― k-kind of jump to the worst meanings before… any of the other ones.”

They hum once more and stand up; their head moves just a bit to beckon you toward their desk where they’re walking. “In any case, I believe I can accept the apology, at least. The purple hydrangeas were still a mistake, but if you want to try to squeeze blood from a rock, that is your funeral. You will never understand me; watching you try is simply free entertainment for the rest of us.”

The bouquet is set down… and Chara plucks from it one each of the blue hyacinths and blue hydrangeas. Keeping their arm at a strange angle that you guess is meant to dissuade any accidental touch, they hold both flowers out to you.

“Asriel made me aware that my behavior that evening was on the lighter side of rude. I cannot say I care if I offended you, and I still do not want you around… but for the time being, until you do something to prove your nature, my brother considers you a friend. He cares about your feelings. In the interest of ensuring his happiness, I want to apologize for the way I reacted.”

They pause, seeming to think about whether they want to add anything to that… then apparently decide that they do. “It… had more to do with me than to do with you. Or anyone else. For Asriel’s sake, I am sorry about my comments and storming out that night. I do not require forgiveness from you; all I need is for you to acknowledge that you will not hold my behavior against Asriel.”

The apology stuns you for a moment. It’s so… genuine while still being hollow. That kind of thing shouldn’t make sense, but that’s definitely Chara for you.

Obviously you know they continue to not give two shits about your feelings. They’re just concerned with keeping Asriel happy, and they think that apologizing to you, in the clear hopes that you won’t be upset about what happened, will help keep him happy.

It’s also a little on the weird side that they think (without any provocation or evidence?) that you might take out any hard feelings toward them on Asriel.

Just like your power says, they don’t look happy. They look… angry.

“That is not funny,” they finally say after a long few seconds of silence.

You reach up and rub your arm. “It… was j-just a dumb prank. We were all s-stupid kids.”

“You are speaking about it as if you have let them off the hook for what they did.” They only seem be getting angrier with every word. That in itself is crazy… this is the same person who said they don’t care about you or your feelings, getting pissed on your behalf over something that happened like ten years ago. “They terrified you to the point of tears, and these were your friends?”

“W… well… they were… I… kind of stopped hanging out with them, um, after that.” You give a weak shrug. “I-it’s okay, Chara.”

“It is not,” they snap. “You are a living, breathing doormat, but you must at least know that it is okay to be angry when someone has hurt you. And they hurt you.”

You shake your head. “I-I was mad back then, sure! But I… just, you know, um… it was a w-while ago. Being mad now… i-isn’t gonna solve anything. I’d… rather just… t-try to be happy today… than be mad o-over something that happened a l-long time ago.”

Whatever’s going on in their mind, it’s probably better that you don’t know. If that stare of theirs was a laser, there would be two smoking holes in the floor. After what feels like years, they take a deep breath. “Well. You are a better person than I am, then.”

You don’t get too long to bask in it, because almost immediately you’re rolled to the ground in an overeager hug. “(Name)!!”

“Ah! Frisk!” Luckily you’ve been startled less and less easily and the impact didn’t hurt thanks to the rug on the floor. Instead of being annoyed, you’re excited to see them even despite the long day you just had with Chara. You return their hug immediately… and decide to press a kiss to their cheek just like they’ve been doing to you. “H-hi! How was your day?”

“Paperwork suuuucks,” they whine, burying their face in your shoulder. “Where did you and Chara go? Did you have fun?”

Asriel snickers as Chara settles into one of the chairs. “Frisk, dude, don’t tackle the company.”

You lift a hand to wave him off. “I-it’s okay, they’re fine! I like it.” You make a big show of resuming the hug, tightly, and rocking from side to side with them. “My frieeeeend!”

Frisk smothers another fit of giggles into your neck. They seem pretty pleased by your reaction. “My friend!” they declare while squeezing you just shy of suffocation.

Once the two of you are done being silly, you both simply go limp on the floor, chilling out. “Oh, we, um, went to Puzzle Palace,” you speak up in reply to their question. “Then we got some coffee with our prize and… went for a walk. I-it was a lot of fun!”

“Oooh, Puzzle Palace.” They lift their head. “Azzy, since we finished what we needed to do today, can we go there tomorrow?”

“Frisk―”

“You owe me! I’m gonna be seeing that paperwork in my nightmares for weeks!”

Asriel shakes his head with a short laugh. “We need reservations for Puzzle Palace. Maybe next weekend. Didn’t you wanna talk to (Name), anyway? Why are you hitting me up for your fix instead of doing that, you fun addict?”

“― Oh! That’s right!!” They push themself up and pat at the ground with their sweater paws. “(Name), do you have any plans tomorrow?”

Also… did Chara just come to your defense? Without being asked? Chastising their brother and best friend as they did so? Wow. They really don’t pull punches even with people they like. In a way, that kind of honesty is refreshing.

And… they were trying to help you out. No prompting, no reward for it, just the assertion that they think you should say something for yourself instead of letting Asriel and Frisk decide for you.

As you consider what might be best, your hand strokes lightly over Frisk’s hair, which, judging by the way they lean into it, they greatly appreciate. “Uhhhh, well… is it okay if we, um, wrap the lessons together? I-I… assume you won’t, haha, be throwing anything… too crazy at me on Monday night, Asriel, s-so… hopefully there’ll be time for everything.”

Frisk and Asriel share a silent conversation, then Frisk nods. “Yeah, that’s totally fine! It gives our, haha, budding guest star a chance to get prepared anyway.”

For reasons you don’t quite understand, Chara groans. “Frisk, oh, my God, you are insufferable.”

“Sure am, thanks for noticing!”

Asriel shakes his head at the both of them with another small laugh. “In any case, guys. We’ll get things straightened out for Monday. And if there’s anything that changes, we can talk during work.”

“Aaaah,” Frisk hums, “the sweet benefits of working in the same building as my siblings and best magic human friend.”

You raise an eyebrow at them and move to get up. “Uhm… Frisk… a-aren’t I, like, your only magic human friend…?”

Frisk sticks their tongue out at you (it must be a family trait despite the fact that they and Chara are adopted) and with their next sentence mimics Chara’s normal syntax. “That is entirely irrelevant!”

“Oh, pleaaaase,” Frisk drawls, draping themself in such a way that you have to hold your arms out to support their weight. “Mom already said that if you don’t stay for dinner, she’s putting it in a to-go box for you. So you need to do us a favor and just stay! Oh, yeah, and now that she knows you like them, she’s gonna make snails more often. Thanks for that!”

Chara gives a scoff as they lean against the side of the rail. “Do not blame her for having good taste, Frisk. This just means you can sneak your food onto her plate and you will end up with double mashed potatoes.”

Frisk’s eyes pop open and they look over at Asgore, adopting the most fake-looking ‘innocent’ expression you’ve ever seen. “… I don’t do that!”

“Geez, Frisk. You did it last time, you’re planning to do it this time, and you’re gonna do it every time for the foreseeable future.” Asriel gives them a light punch in the shoulder. “Stop lying and let’s get (Name)’s lesson underway.”

��Wha ― well, how dare you, Azzy!” Frisk does start to move, though, gesturing for you to follow the group back up the stairs. “I’m a good child! I don’t lie! Do you think Mom would call me her little angel if I lied? You’re the one making things up! So rude! I’m offended and I demand your mashed potatoes as payment for my pain and suffering unless you wanna see me in food court!”

“Oh, yeah, food court, huh? What are you gonna do, put me in soli-tarragon confinement? Sentence me to 25 to 60 in the oven?”

“No, no, no,” Frisk muses, “you’ll get the chair, Azzy. The highchair!”

“Good grief…”

Chara sweeps their arms toward the railing and, once you’ve taken a few steps up, comes up behind you. “Honestly, (Name), do not let Frisk and their silliness fool you,” they hum to you. “They are a beacon of horrible decisions. If we were still in high school, your mother would forbid you from hanging out with them because she’d say they are a bad influence.”

“Me, a bad influence?! You and I should just change our names to Pot and Kettle!”

You reach forward and hook your arms around Frisk’s neck as you walk. “Aw, leave them alone. M-maybe I like bad influences!”

Frisk snorts. “Oh, I bet you do! Say, speaking of that, did Chara tell you what they were like in high school? Because if you like bad influences, you should hear the story about Mom finding a pack of Torrids in their jacket pocket… but Flowey, he’s even worse! If Chara smoked a cigarette, he’d smoke the whole pack! I’ll say this once, okay? Don’t fall for him! I’d be so heartbroken that you abandoned Chara so quickly, I think I’d have to disown you… no more friendship kisses for you… stay strong, Frisk…!”

Oh. Well. They certainly turned that around on you. “U-umm, uh…!!”

Your face is suddenly very hot. What are you supposed to say to that?!

As soon as you all reach the top of the stairs, you bury your face in Frisk’s shoulder. You can hear Chara trying and failing to hold back laughter behind you.

You’ve barely taken a step before they have the knife raised. It’s not a cool and calculated movement, and in fact nothing about their demeanor right now is cool and calculated. They aren’t displaying any real sadism or even hatred for you.

Instead, they remind you a bit of a trapped animal. They have an escape route, they could flee down the stairs, because you’re not blocking that… and yet, it seems they still feel like they don’t have a way out. They look desperate and frightened, as if they’re convinced you’re going to try and hurt them even if they run.

“Don’t you dare take another step!” they snap. You notice that Chara’s hands are shaking. You don’t think they really want to hurt you. “Ahah… unlike my siblings… I do not have magic to defend myself. Do you know what I do have? A knife. Now… I am not particularly craving a reason to use it. But if I must…”

“But you don’t have to use it!” you answer. “I didn’t mean to… to start this! I don’t wanna h-hurt you!”

Their smile looks more like a sneer. “Pretty words. Pretty… useless… lies. If you do not want to hurt me, then end the FIGHT.”

You look around for anything, a menu, some rules, something. Asriel’s words from your first lesson with him come back to you. When you were in the FIGHT with him, he set ‘conditions’. You couldn’t SPARE him until you met those conditions, and if you didn’t SPARE him, your only options were FIGHT, ACT, or ITEMS.

Although you’re not sure how, and you didn’t mean to, you probably set some conditions of your own when you started the FIGHT.

“I… I can’t? I don’t know how! We haven’t covered that!” You keep your hands up, just so they can see you aren’t going to move to try and attack them. “You, um… y-you could try SPARING me?”

“And how am I supposed to do that? What do you want from me?!”

“I-I still like you, Chara!” It takes you a moment before the laughter dies down, and for someone who laughs in almost every situation, they seem a bit baffled by the sudden outburst. “Listen, I… I get why you did what you did. You were scared… w-we both kind of just made the situation worse. It’s not… I mean… y-you said it yourself, pulling out a knife is… kind of… y-you know, it’s not weird in a FIGHT.”

They give you a funny sort of smile, then shake their head. “Yes, well, being upset and anxious does not give one the right to just do whatever they want. That fact does not change simply because I was the one displaying such behavior. If I were in your position, I do not think I would be nearly as forgiving. Certainly, I would not still have feelings for the person who pulled a knife on me. But we have already established that you are a doormat given the will to live.”

They shift from one foot to the other, then turn their eyes down again. “So, well. If only for the sake of my family and their relationships with you… are we… ‘good’?”

You can’t help but giggle as you dig your keys out. “Yeah. We’re good. I’m… I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’ll… try not to start any more FIGHTs with you, okay?”

They nod. “And I will try to remember that if you do, it was most likely an accident. Also, I will… attempt to listen to what you say instead of listening to what my ‘worst-case-scenario’ voice is telling me. Apologies in advance if that is… a bit difficult for me, however.”

You’ve spoken to Chara one-on-one a few more times. They seem to like it when you confide in them, particularly about magic-related matters… they understand some of the struggles you’re going through. Often it strikes you that you’re not ‘leveling up’ your power as quickly as Frisk did theirs, even though everyone thinks you’re doing great. Chara hasn’t been able to manifest magic at all, so they get the inadequacy and frustration you feel, despite the fact that those feelings aren’t necessarily the truth.

They manage to be surprisingly comforting in regards to your progress. After a particularly challenging lesson, they sit outside on the swing with you as you cry and berate yourself, saying a few unpleasant things about yourself that later you wish you could take back. They pluck one of the few flowers from the back garden that are still growing, and tuck it behind your ear.

“You would not think a daisy was useless for not growing as fast as the one beside it, would you?” they say to you. “You and Frisk are different people. The only comparison that matters is the one between you today and you yesterday. And even that is… sometimes irrelevant. You may not even be a daisy like Frisk. You may be a bush or a tree, and those plants take years to grow. As a gardener… I think it would be a waste if a tree gave up growing simply because it did not pop up like a daisy.”

It’s true that Chara doesn’t let you hold them again. However, they do allow you to rest your head on their shoulder during that moment. The wind howls gently around you, the cold air stings when you breathe in, your tears freeze on your cheeks, and the moon is so bright and the sky is so dark and you can pretend nothing else exists but the two of you.

It’s one of those memories you don’t think you’ll forget as long as you live.

“Ah… (Name).” Rather than exclaim at you as it seems like they want to do, they evidently force themself to be calm. Their smile is back up in a second as if they’re afraid to be caught without it. It looks even faker than usual, ready to fall apart at the seams, and you get the sense that their smile is the only thing holding their composure together right now. “Well, it is nice of you to rejoin the world of the living, Sleeping Beauty.”

You give a weak wheeze of a giggle. How is it possible they always make you laugh? “Hehe… I’m glad to see you.” Almost instinctively, you reach out your hand in search for theirs. “Oh… there’s… there’s something stuck in my hand. Will you, um… take that out for me? Please?”

They laugh, but it sounds more like they’re about to cry. Within only a second or two, their hand is slipped into yours. It’s warm and familiar and it feels more comforting than anything you can think of. “No, no, no. I am afraid that needs to stay in your hand. It is an IV giving you pain medication.”

“Oh…” You blink a few times. “But… but I don’t feel much pain. I feel okay.”

“Yes, well,” they snort, “you will not if I take it out and you are no longer getting the medication.”

“… Y-you knew after the first time what was gonna happen, Chara.” Your voice still breaks when you speak. The thought of Chara having any kind of feelings that would lead them to want to be hit by that thing is… upsetting to you. “Asriel moved out of the way. But you… you kept stepping in front of it. Even w-when there was… there was nobody to… p-protect by doing that. Why?”

When you look back at them, their jaw is clenched tightly. Their usual smile is there, but it seems like they’re trying very hard not to cry. You notice dark lines under their eyes, likely from sleeping poorly, and suddenly they actually look their age. “Why do you not tell me your guess as to why? You have become rather perceptive.”

You stare at them for a long moment. It’s as if you’re not trying to CHECK; just trying to read them from what you’ve learned about them. They had a terrible childhood that they refuse to give details about, they’re hiding their pain, and they’ve just displayed an astonishingly worrying behavior.

You think Chara doesn’t like themself very much. You think somebody close to them hurt them, maybe more than one somebody.

You think that whatever happened in their past, it made them believe they’re a bad person who doesn’t deserve anything good.

You think it’s not a stretch that they might go from thinking ‘I’m a bad person’ to ‘I’m better off dead’.

You think they’re suicidal. You think maybe it hasn’t choked their being entirely, but their putting themself into a situation where they would have been killed if not for someone else’s actions, multiple times, proves that those feelings are without a doubt embedded in them like thorns.

… More than anything, you think that’s very sad for someone to think so low of themself.

It strikes you as unfair for someone to believe that the world would be just fine if they killed themself.

You reach up to take their hand, and this time, unfortunately, the instant your fingers touch theirs, they yank their hand away from yours. It’s not the same violent action as the one time they were lost in that memory; it’s telling, though.

“D-do you… really think you… deserve t-to die?” The wind nearly swallows your voice.

Their silence tells you more than anything they could possibly say.

“Chara. Chara! We’re literally at the hospital. W-we can…” You try to push yourself up so you can stand. “Let’s go b-back in… we’ll… we’ll tell them…”

“We will not,” they snap, accompanied by a sort of breathless-in-the-worst-way laugh. They go so far as to put their hand on your shoulder and physically push you back down into the chair ― gently, but firmly, in a way which reminds you of Toriel. You don’t think they even mean to sound as nasty as they do right now. “I am not going to march in there and tell them I have tried to kill myself several times, only to be told that I am crazy or exaggerating.”

You reach for their hand again. This time they allow you to take it, but it’s limp in yours. “Y-you’re not… they’re not gonna…”

Wait.

Did they just say several times?

This isn’t the first time they’ve shown suicidal behavior?

… Is that what Toriel was going to say when she told you Chara has had ‘problems’ with something?

That means their family knows. And their family wouldn’t just stand by, do nothing, let Chara suffer. They would try to help.

You think Chara won’t let anyone help them.

“It’s a long story,” Asriel sighs, “and I don’t think I should talk about it… you know, much. Chara’s already told you what they’re willing to tell you. They wouldn’t be too happy with me talking about what happened. They’ve had other problems since then, since we came back, other attempts, but… I-I mean, thankfully, the few times they’ve tried, they’ve picked… I don’t know, stuff that might not actually kill them.”

He runs a hand through the tufts of hair atop his head with a shrug. “It hasn’t happened too often, between the time we left the Underground to now, but when they’ve done it, it doesn’t… seem like they fully, actually want to die. Those few times it seemed more like… like a…”

“… A cry for help?” you offer softly.

He closes his eyes and gets up to pace around the room. “Yeah… yeah, I guess that’s what I’d call it. Except, every time we try to get them help, try to take them to the hospital or to a therapist… they fight it.”

Obviously you hoped that he’d tell you something like that; that they’ve all tried to get Chara to seek help. Everyone loves Chara so much, it’s unthinkable that they’d all sit and not try to do something.

It really is just a pity that none of the help has stuck. Chara seems to understand that they have a problem, that suicide attempts aren’t normal or healthy, and yet they aren’t ready to take steps to make themself healthier. Most likely because they know it’s going to hurt worse before it gets better, and they’re unwilling to face that pain.

“I mean,” he continues with a smile that’s only half amused, “we took them to a therapist once. They had to leave ten minutes into the session, without giving her anything to work with, because they made her cry!”

Without even thinking, you decide to take a page from Frisk’s book. “Oof.”

The tension is broken almost immediately. Asriel snorts and shakes his head a few times. “Oof is right. It’s… been a couple years since the last time they did anything truly suicidal. And when they do end up doing something, we can usually handle it, so we just… handle it.”

He shakes his head. “Besides, what are we supposed to do? No matter how hard we try to talk to them, they don’t wanna talk about their deeper feelings. And we can’t force them to go to the hospital unless they’re literally unconscious and can’t make a decision on their own. So we just… try to take care of them if they do anything harmful to themself.”

That’s a little reassuring, of course. Still… Asriel agreed with your description that their previous attempts have appeared like a cry for help. And last month, your CHECK used that phrase to describe their opening up to you about being scared you would force them into a kiss.

It evidently wasn’t their first cry for help. They’ve been crying for help, but nobody knows how to help them, because they won’t accept the help they need and that’s offered. Your only guess for that is they’ve lived with those feelings for so long that any change, even an improvement, is terrifying to them. ‘Better the devil you know,’ isn’t that how it goes?

Your heart breaks to think that there’s probably nothing you can do to encourage them to seek help. Nothing they’ll take to heart, at least. They already rejected your urging to go back into the hospital and tell doctors. If they won’t listen to their family, why the hell would they listen to you?

What else can you do except continue to treat them with kindness?

Frisk grins. “You haven’t seen it yet?? Oh, man! It aired last week for the beginning of the holiday season, and we’re finally getting around to watching it. Okay, Chara, sorry, I’m gonna rewind! She’s gotta see this.”

“Mhm, agreed. I usually find holiday specials rather trite. This one is palatable, however.” They run their thumb lightly over the back of your hand. It’s so easy to relax with them now. Even though you’ve not known each other for long, they appear to be adjusting more to being physical with you. “Fallen is one of my favorite series of his in general. You said you have seen all of it, (Name)?”

You nod, smiling when you feel the top of your head knock gently against their chin. “O-oh, yeah. The writing’s great. I… I really feel for Sparks. His creator’s s-so mean to him! Like… she didn’t, you know, have to make him… just to do nothing but hurt him. I… I don’t really get it, haha.”

Their free hand begins to sift through your hair. When they speak, it’s soft and wistful, and you get the sense that their mind isn’t entirely on the show anymore. “Mm. I do not understand it, either.” Then they giggle, making a patch of your scalp tingle. “It is okay, though. This special might have a happy ending, judging by what we have seen so far. At least, Sparks will―”

“Aaaah, no!” You lean back against them, tilting your head up. “Shhh, no spoilers, haha.”

They chuckle and comb your hair in such a way that it moves your head back down. “Oh, dear. I suppose that is fair. Well, if Frisk ever gets this rewound all the way to the beginning, feel free to have some of the popcorn while we watch.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing toward the scattered kernels before looking at Frisk. “You guys w-wasted half of it with that… what did you call it? Popcorn Goalie?”

Frisk pointedly taps the rewind button harder while flashing you a grin that makes them look like the cat that swallowed the canary. “Don’t worry! Mom’s gonna bring us some hot chocolate in a little bit, so we don’t really need the popcorn anyway.”

“W-well, in that case, I think I have to rescue it from you guys.” You reach over to take a small handful. After popping a few pieces into your mouth, you raise your hand in order to offer one to Chara.

With a hum that seems to imply a sort of why not? attitude, they stop playing with your hair in order to pluck a piece from your hand. “Thank you. Speaking of Mettaton, by the way,” they say around their tiny mouthful, “will we be seeing that garish bucket of bolts tomorrow?”

“Oh… yeah. He’s, um, coming over to do the interview… b-because he doesn’t want a studio to stress me out. He’s… got a big head, but he’s pretty nice.”

Chara scoffs. “You are entitled to your wrong opinion.”

“Oh, let it go,” Frisk groans. “We all know you’re not still mad, you butt. Now calm down because I think I got it back to the beginning! Everybody get back into cuddle puddle position for the next hour.”

A door slams open and you freeze. The sound reminds you of a gunshot, like the attack a few days ago. “Chara!”

“Ah!” It’s almost a squeak, and instantly they’re standing with their hands behind their back. “I-I am sorry…”

Coming through the door is a man. You can’t see anything except vague features like an outline. It seems like he’s wearing similar clothing to Chara, but everything else is blurred. You feel embarrassed, like you’ve been doing something you weren’t supposed to.

You get a vague sense of unease from this man’s… energy. There’s a twinge in your stomach, and your vision swims briefly, as if someone has just spun you around while blindfolded.

“Just like every other time, I’m sure. Go sit back down; I do not need you getting into trouble while I’m gone.”

They nod and practically scurry back to their spot beside you. As the man passes in front of them, they pipe up. “Before you go… will you… will you wind it up? Please?”

The man sighs, but stops in front of the fireplace. He takes the trinket off the mantel, and there’s the sound of gears clicking. As soon as he sets it back down, the same melody Chara was humming begins to play. “Just this once, Chara. Now, I’ll be back soon. Behave while I’m gone, understand? You are to sit or lie there and not move. You may pray if you would like.”

“Yes, sir. Goodbye.” Chara bobs their head, then shifts to lie down on the floor.

The man is gone out the front door in a moment, and Chara looks over at you in confusion. “Should you not go, too?”

You look toward the door for a few seconds before glancing back at Chara. You’re not sure what’s going on, really. This is a memory, maybe. Possibly. It all feels staticky and like it could break apart at any second.

Finally, you lie down next to them. “No… I-I think I’d rather stay with you. Is that okay?”

They smile. It’s a bit different than their usual one; it lights up their whole face and they look genuinely happy. They laugh and roll over close to you, grasping at your hand. “Yes, I would like that! I have never had anyone to listen to the music with.”

“Oh… really?” You’re surprised by the way they nestle into you readily. This isn’t like them. It’s nice, but it isn’t like them. “I… I’d love to listen with you.”

You close your eyes as they try to get even closer to you. They’re making themself smaller, curling in, and humming to the tune.

The harmony is vaguely haunting, although the music box makes it sound like a sweet lullaby. It wraps you up and makes you feel calm.

When you open your eyes, you’re no longer holding the adult Chara you know. In their place is a child who looks like a younger Chara, with baggy clothes and dark lines under their eyes and a body that feels too skinny in your arms.

“You should not be here,” they murmur, while making no attempt to pull themself from you. “You’re too close. Get out. Please. I don’t want anyone to see me. Not like this. Not you. Not anyone. Leave… leave…”

The sound of harsh coughing catches your attention, breaking apart any focus you might have had on getting yourself out of here. You turn toward the noise to find Chara in a bed ― just as you know them, except with those baggy clothes and longer hair. They’re leaned back against the pillow, hair fanned out and seeming awfully tangled.

And there’s that man again, next to their bedside holding an old-fashioned mercury thermometer. His features are still unknown to you, little more than a blurry silhouette with some muted blobs of color. “Well,” he says, and his voice sounds so loud, “your temperature’s a bit high. We’ll see how you are in the morning, though, alright?”

Chara looks exhausted. To you, their face reads as someone who hasn’t gotten much sleep in a few days. When they speak, it sounds like they’re trying to speak around a throatful of broken glass. “But… but Daddy… I feel r-really bad.” Both hands swallowed by their sleeves come up to cover their mouth as another round of coughing starts.

It’s several seconds before they can talk again, their hands moving down to clutch at their chest. “It hurts…” They lift their eyes toward the man in a clear attempt at silent pleading. “I-I read there is… stuff you can take when you are sick… that m-makes you feel better?”

“For others, yes, but not for you.” This man ― their father? ― makes you feel very, very uneasy. There is something not right about him. Although he wasn’t kind in the first memory you saw, here his aura is even darker. It’s like a black cloud that makes you feel nauseous.

He leans down to their level, setting a hand on their head. That small gesture sets off the worst kind of alarm bells for you. “This illness is a punishment for you, Chara. You must bear it without any assistance, to atone for whatever sin you’ve committed.”

His voice borders on something serene, something that’s completely at odds with the actual words he’s saying, and the touch that accompanies it seems gentle. It’s a hugely dissonant energy, which sets you on edge.

You can’t think of too many things crueler than denying someone medicine while telling them they deserve to suffer and that it’s their fault they’re ill.

Chara looks up at him with a look in their eyes that reflects a hope shattered into a million pieces. Something exists that might ease the discomfort they’re in, and they can’t have it. After a second they begin to cough again, practically doubling over from the force. It sounds like each one is trying to rip their lungs apart like tissue paper.

“But… but…” They try to speak between their breathless coughs. “What… did I do… wrong…?”

“You know that’s a question you must ask yourself.” He gives their head one last rub before straightening up. “You have all night, so think about it.”

Just like last time, he’s gone quickly, walking out the door and shutting it. You think you hear a lock click.

You can’t recall anything you’ve done bad lately.

Maybe you should think harder. You must have done something to justify feeling so poorly

Mercifully, before you can say anything, there’s a knock on the door before a humanoid monster who appears to be made entirely out of jelly walks into the room. “Okay, Mx. Dreemurr… oh! Haha, I didn’t know you had a lovely young lady visiting you. Sorry to interrupt, but I’ll try to keep things brief.” She gives both of you a smile as she steps in. “I’m Dr. Borden, the emergency physician in charge of your case. Remember me at all? It’s okay if you don’t; you were pretty out of it earlier.”

“Mhh… my apologies. I do not recall not much outside the memory of you and your nurses forcing me to swallow an entire cup of horrid black sludge. Speaking of―” They wave at you, gesturing you toward the door. “(Name), you should go relax and get something to eat. It has been an eventful day for all of us. I will get some sleep after speaking with the doctor, so do not worry, alright?”

Easier said than done. Still, you nod, then lean over to brush a light kiss over their forehead, and give their hand one more gentle squeeze. “O-okay. Make sure to take it easy and, um, stay out of trouble, okay?”

They flutter their eyes closed and all but press themself into the contact, their smile growing just a little more genuine. When they open their eyes again, they squeeze your hand back in kind. “You do the same on both counts, haha. I will talk to you as soon as I am allowed out of here.”

On your way out the door, you hear Dr. Borden chuckle softly as though they’ve just told her the best joke she’s heard all year and they don’t realize it. “Actually, Mx. Dreemurr, about that…”

You don’t quite make out the wording she uses as you slip outside, because she doesn’t speak very loudly. However, Chara’s response is more than enough to echo behind you while you and Asriel start back to the waiting room.

“Excuse me?! You cannot keep me here. I am an independent adult and capable of making my own decisions. Wha ― self-induced poisoning?! You are the one who treated me in the emergency room. Do you happen to remember what the supposed poison was? It was cold medicine! I have a cold!”

“H-hey, it’s okay. I… I get it. It… can be hard to know who to trust, sometimes. Even for me.” Things fall quiet as you move one hand to play with their hair again. Finally, you break the silence. “That man in your memories… that was your dad? Um… I mean…”

“Yes, my birth father. He raised me in that tiny village by the mountain.” Their lips fall into a straight line, and for a moment, their smile disappears. It almost looks like they’ve just sucked all the juice out of a lemon. Maybe with an undercurrent of melancholy. “… I hate him. More than any other human. I despise him and he terrifies me.”

Everything about Chara’s childhood memories stands out to you, particularly the second one you were inside of. The dark emanation from their father, that aura that made you feel nauseous and disoriented, his stunningly callous behavior. How could anyone treat their child that way?

It was stronger in the second memory, maybe because he wasn’t acting very cruel in the first one, or maybe because you were more agitated during the second one. Even in the first memory, he was dismissive of Chara. You don’t want to ask about him, because you’re sure too much poking will cause them to shut you out. You’re not keen on getting another cold shoulder after you’ve just got them back.

You press a kiss to their temple. “I’m sorry. From what I saw, I, um… I don’t blame you. He scared me, too. While I was in that second memory… I-I don’t know. Being around him made me feel… sick to my stomach and… off-balance.”

“Mh.” They close their eyes. “That does not shock me. Being as you are, your SOUL is sensitive not only to malicious intent, but strong magic. My birth father had both… in spades. His magic was powerful, with so many different techniques that did not seem like an extension of any one ability. Many different spells, I would assume. His magic is the most impressive I have ever seen from another human. That is why he led us.”

You notice them shiver and give them a gentle squeeze before drawing away so you can put their coat around them. The last thing they need right now is to get any sicker just as they’re on the mend. “Uh… led you?”

Huh. So, even with all the shit they’ve been through lately, they’re willing to have you on top of them to cuddle. Does that mean they enjoyed it when you were both cuddled up with Frisk that one night? “Oh, well…”

Having the weight of another person leaning on them doesn’t seem like the wisest idea at the moment, though. They’re feeling better, but… just the same as being outside in the cold for too long might hinder their recovery, you don’t think having pressure on their chest would be a good idea right now. You can just imagine accidentally nuzzling a bit too close and aggravating their cough.

“Um, h-how about… you can lie against me instead?” Your face is probably on fire from the mere suggestion. You relax a little against the arm of the couch and give a few small, reluctant pats to your lap as a silent invitation. “I… I don’t wanna, um, y-you know… hurt you.”

The look they give you is awfully funny. Although they’re still smiling, as almost always, their bottom eyelids curve up and their eyebrows knit together. They look sort of inquisitive or puzzled. In the end, they chuckle, which turns into a brief handful of coughs. “Ahahah… oh, dear, (Name). You have mistaken me for something delicate.”

You laugh with them, though you don’t think it’s all that humorous. Usually they can make you laugh without even trying… so what if you’re trying to be careful with them? Is that a bad thing? Don’t they deserve to be treated considerately? “N-no, I just…” Your face flushes even more. It must be spread out horribly by now, because your ears and neck feel like they’re burning. “… Thought I could… you know… t-take care of you.”

“Ahah, awww.” They hum and, after a minute of thought, they hesitantly scoot closer to you. “I suppose fair is fair. We have done this one way, so having another perspective may be interesting.” Their hand pauses halfway toward yours, then they suddenly snap their eyes up to meet yours. “Pose me.”

Immediately your nerves dry up to leave only bewilderment. “W… what? Pose you??”

“Yes.” They stretch their arm out. “You must be thinking of a certain position. So… help me into that position. Show me what you would like.”

Oh. That’s, uh. What??? Why do they want you to do that? “But… I-I want it to be comfortable for you, Chara. I… wanna know what you want.”

“If I am not comfortable in whatever position you place me, I will adjust myself. I know it seems strange… haha… just indulge my curiosity, will you not? Please? Come, think about it… I have just returned home from the hospital… I have been through the wringer lately… do you not want to make me happy? It is such a small thing, so…”

Your confusion is broken and you can’t help but snort. “W-wow, first your own brother, now me? I didn’t, um… pack for a guilt trip.” Although you didn’t have any doubts, here’s the proof that they can be just as manipulative as Flowey when they want to be. “Okay… I guess.”

If that’s what they really want, where’s the harm? It’s not like you’re going to put them in a painful position or take advantage.

You move yourself a bit closer, then carefully circle your arms around them. One around their shoulders, one around their waist… similarly to how you held them when you visited them in the hospital. You hang on to them, and slowly lean yourself back until you’re propped up against the arm of the couch, with the rest of you lying pretty flat.

The action has left Chara only somewhat pressed against you. They’re sort of watching you, and you can feel them breathing in a sort of pattern, probably to keep their anxiety down. You keep your touch light and tender as you tug them down, so that they’re lying flush against you. You guide their head to your chest, resting on your collarbone. It feels like your heart is trying to beat right out.

You mimic their patterned breathing for a moment, feeling them tensed up and hoping to calm the both of you down. “I-it’s okay,” you find yourself murmuring. You brush your lips over the top of their head. “It’s okay. If you wanna move…”

“No. No, no, no… I…” Their voice is small and hoarse from being sick, so much that it almost disappears. They shift around just a little, arching their back in order to move themself up… just enough to tuck their head under your chin. One of their arms folds in against their chest, and one wraps loosely around your waist. “… I am okay. I am… very okay.”

Toriel’s face lights up. “Oh, my child! So, does that mean…?”

They hum. “Yes… if she agrees to accompany me, then I will do the flower activity at your school.”

The next course of action, predictably, is for Toriel to turn her pleading eyes on you. Boy. You can see where Frisk learned that particular facial expression. She doesn’t even have to really say anything.

“O-okay, yeah!” The words are out before you can even think about stopping them. Doesn’t it sound like a nice day, after all? You’d get to spend Valentine’s Day with Chara, helping them teach kids about plants. “Oh, gosh… is Valentine’s Day on a weekday this year? I think… I’ll, um. Have to see if Grace can get me that day off, but… but it shouldn’t be a problem! Sign me up.”

Asriel leans over to give you a hug, grinning as Toriel gives you a wide smile. “If it wasn’t clear, y’know, she’s really happy. I mean…” He gestures toward Chara before ruffling their hair. “Her oldest baby… stepping out into the world… socializing… pfffffff, I think I’m gonna cry!”

“Ugh! Asriel! Get your boozed-up hand off of me!” Despite their laughter, they try to push their brother’s hand away. “Stop! Stop, you are ruining my hair!”

“Ooooh, right. Right. I forgot, you gotta look pretty for (Name)! You’ll be the… whaddaya call it… house spouse?”

“Asriel! Go home, you are drunk!!”

“I am home, you chocoholic! You gonna carry me upstairs across the threshold into my room?”

“Perhaps I am a chocoholic, but do you know what you are?”

“Charming and handsome with a dramatic profile and a smile that lights up a room?”

“… No, that is also me. You, brother, are a child!”

You can hear Toriel trying and failing to hold back a fit of giggles. “Well, he certainly is a kid! Haha!”

Everyone else erupts into laughter, including Asriel who does his absolute damnedest to hide his face. It’s a useless attempt and everyone knows it and none of you can even try not to laugh.

Your legs turn wobbly as the strummed chords of the next song start to take over. It’s bad enough that you’re basically pressed against Chara, who chuckles and does their best to hold you up.

“Please,” they murmur, their own arms shaking from your combined weight, “did I not warn you about falling for me?”

For a long moment, all you can do is stare wide-eyed at them. It’s weird… like they’re trying to be funny while simultaneously reminding you of all the things they’ve said before about getting close to them.

Your mind, for whatever reason, flashes you back to the first day you came to work at the Embassy. They warned you not to try getting close to them. They told you that you didn’t have the DETERMINATION to handle their jagged pieces. They said they were too broken for you to fix. To not bother trying.

They keep saying things like that. They seem to think they really are broken. That whatever else they may be, there’s nothing there for anyone to love.

You don’t believe that. You can’t.

They look like a line from a song about falling in love, like someone has picked the most romantic, evocative lines from a poem and given them life.

“Yes,” they sigh. “Often I can handle it for a short time. In this situation, however… the risk is very great. Frisk cannot watch out for me because they are rather drunk. Asriel is attempting to oversee the party as a whole, so he cannot stick by my side. And as much as I try to do for myself… my anxiety spikes around crowds.”

You can see your own actions in the window, and they open their eyes to watch you briefly. They don’t stop you when you raise your hand, so you set it on their shoulder. “If you’re okay with it, um… you and I can hang in here for a while.”

Their smile reflects back at you. “I would like that.” Then their head tilts up toward the sky outside. “Look. Did you know there is a star that shares my name?”

Your eyes are pulled toward the sky. It’s pitch-black, the only sources of light being the streetlamps and the sparkling pinpoints of the stars. “O-oh, no way. A star named Chara?”

“Mhm. Its Bayer designation, a certain way to which stars are referred, is Beta Canum Venaticorum. It is located in a small northern constellation called Canus Venatici ― mhh, often translated to… ‘hunting dogs’, I believe. But the star is also known as Chara or Asterion. For the purposes of brevity, I would assume,” they laugh.

You can’t help but smile. “That’s… that’s so cool. Do you… know anything about it?”

They nod. “Only a bit. My father told me that this was what my mother named me after… a star. Something distant and cold and unpredictable. This star, though… from what I read, its star system is one of the most likely to host planets with extraterrestrial life.” Their smile tightens briefly, then relaxes. “I suppose there is hope for me, then.”

This must be why their SOUL chose to appear to you as a star. Maybe that’s how they see themself; a far off being, but wanting to mean something to someone.

… Wishing that they mean something to you.

“There’s more than hope,” you murmur, running your hand down their arm. After a few seconds you reach their hand, and after setting yours inside it, they squeeze lightly. “He was wrong about you. Stars… stars aren’t cold. They’re literally, um, made of hot swirling… like, hydrogen and helium, I-I think? They’re always… producing light and heat. You’re not cold.”

An eyebrow is raised in your direction. “Haha. What about ‘distant’ and ‘unpredictable’, then?”

You give a shrug. “I’m just saying… if he was wrong about one part of that… w-what else could he have been wrong about? You’re… you’re great, Chara.”

“Mmh, well, thank you for your consistently strange opinion.” They shift their legs down, swung over the side of the bookshelf and heels tapping lightly against it. Their gaze is still focused outside. “When I was young… sometimes I dreamed about being able to see the stars so clearly. I knew they were there, because I read about them, but… I had never seen them before I left my village. The night I did was the first time I had ever laid eyes on a star. Or, a whole sky full of them, as it was that night.”

They’re awfully sentimental right now. You gently nudge their legs further over the edge so you can sit next to them and they readily make room for you. Similar to something Frisk does, they arch their ankle to brush their foot against yours. You’re sorely tempted to reach down and yank your shoes off so you can fully appreciate the gesture. “Wow…”

“Before you ask,” they chuckle, “I do not really want to talk about any of that. And I do not want you in my mind to look at it, either. This is just… me reflecting on life after another year as the next one is about to start. I find it amusing that, well… the very thing I was named after, I spent the first ten years of my life without seeing. Ironic in a way, I suppose.”

Despite that you wouldn’t enter their mind without permission, you can’t help but picture that kind of a scene in your mind. This small child, having been pushed to their breaking point and running away from everything they knew… probably crying, as they looked up to the sky, their namesake reflected in wide eyes as they see a glittering starscape for the first time in their life.

You imagine being there next to them as a child yourself ― like you did on the drive after picking them up from the hospital when you thought about your younger self listening to the music box with them.

You can almost feel the cool chill of night air on your skin, the resolution with which Chara might take your hand, the violent whispers of, “Let’s never go back, okay?” and “We’ll take care of each other” and “I’ll always be here for you” that you might have exchanged.

Asriel’s voice drifts in from the main room. “Okay, guys, thirty seconds to midnight! Get ready for the countdown!”

Chara gingerly pushes themself up on their tiptoes. They’re close enough that if one of you moves suddenly, you’d bump noses. “How about another set of quotes? Your turn.”

“U-um, oh…” Another few roll around in your mind before you settle on one that’s been running through your head lately; particularly when you think about Chara. You let your hand slip down to cup their cheek. It feels so vulnerable to do this, to look in their tired eyes… it’s what you want, though. For them to let you do something so affectionate. “‘You’ve got a new story to write. And it looks nothing like your past.’ Danielle LaPorte.”

Maybe it crosses your mind when thinking about yourself, too? So much has changed, both for you and for Chara, in such a short time. There’s still a lot in the future you might not know how to deal with, because neither of you have dealt with anything happening in the present so far. It’s been one day at a time for several months now, with new things going on so fast you can barely keep track of them.

You’re grateful you have supportive people in your life. Chara is by your side even if they’re still standing at a bit of a distance. Asriel and Frisk are always next to you, and you know you have Toriel and Asgore behind you regardless of anything else.

You don’t think you would be learning to be as confident as you’re learning to be without any of them.

You don’t think your life would be as good as it is right now without any of them.

“Okay, ready, everyone? Ten… nine… eight…”

Chara’s lips curl up further. There’s something unidentifiable in their eyes, like a mix of relief and sadness and euphoria and pain.

Their hand tightens in yours. “‘Never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart.’ Charles Dickens.”

You can feel your heart starting to pound again. They’re almost right on top of you now. Kissing them is something you’ve been fantasizing about since you realized you were attracted to them. It’s something you want more than anything.

Things have to go slow between the two of you, not pushing each other, not jumping right into something too strong. That might scare them and it might scare you and either one of those things would put a strain on any budding relationship.

Are they… ready for this? Are you?

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Chara…?”

They give you a shy smile and push themself up further.

“The song now just… hit something in me, I suppose, that made me think… how it is so funny, in a sad way, that…”

They look down, tracing their thumbs over the backs of your hands. “Everything I craved when I was a child, that protection, and for someone to care about me… you want so badly to give it to me. I have pushed it away for a while, and I… I am trying to accept it. It is hard, and I know sometimes I am difficult and that I shut you out. The things you want to give me, I have them now, with my family, and it is sometimes… not so easy to believe that someone outside my family could want to invest that kind of energy in me.”

Another sigh leaves them, and they sound so weighed down. “It is an uphill climb for another human to convince me that they mean me no harm, that they… just want to care for me. You are the first who has even put serious dents in my hatred for humanity. I… I just feel like I must tell you that it… means a lot to me that you are still climbing.”

“… I do have to stop to, um, rest sometimes,” you tease, but rock forward to press your forehead against theirs. God, do they really think they’re, like… not worth it or something? How much pain has poor Chara had to bear? And why do they think they have to bear it all alone like this instead of telling someone about it all?

You tilt your head up just a little to brush a quick kiss to their nose. “But… maybe I just… like climbing, I guess, hah. You’re a special person, Chara. I… like getting to know you, even if it’s, um… in baby steps. Anybody who doesn’t is missing out. And… and you deserve to have people taking care of you. I… I don’t understand how your mother could have thought what she did, or… or, but… but she was wrong about that. You’re not… I-I mean, she… you’re just…”

You squeeze their hands, and out of nowhere you become aware that you’re crying, too. “… I’m really glad I met you. My life is a lot better because you’re in it.”

They laugh. “Aaah. Surely you cannot mean that?”

“I do,” you mumble, loosening one hand so you can comb their hair back. “If you weren’t in my life, I… I think… it would feel like something was missing. A lot of things have changed, a-and it’s really fast… I never thought I’d… you know… be where I am today, and… and be looking at the future I’m looking at.”

Your mind flashes back to the first several weeks and months of your relationship with Chara. It started out so rocky. They barely wanted to speak to you, threatened you several times, and didn’t want you in their siblings’ lives, to say nothing of their own life.

You still don’t know how that changed in less than six months. It seems like it’s been so long in some ways, and barely a blink in other ways.

When you get Chara out of the car and are walking up the steps, you can practically feel the incredulity rolling off them in waves. They really can’t say much, given that they took you to what was basically three escape rooms for their first pick several months ago.

Of course, not being able to say much doesn’t stop them from saying anything. “We are going to the science museum for our date?”

“Yep,” you hum cheerfully. A small part of you feels bad for not giving them more information. It’s supposed to be a surprise, though. If they really didn’t want to be surprised like this, they’re not shy about telling you so.

They sigh, but it’s not a truly irritated sound. “Will you at least give me a hint? If I bat my eyelashes and say please?”

You swing your hand with theirs and think about it. “We’re almost there. Y-you can wait two more minutes, can’t you?”

“… Considering you have made it sound like I am a petulant child for asking, I suppose I can.”

The two of you giggle at each other as you lead them down the hall you need to be going to. “Okay,” you laugh, “I’ll give you a tiny hint. It’s, um, it’s a newer exhibit.”

They blow out a long breath. “That does not help me. As much as I enjoy learning, I have not been here in… mh, a year, I think. Anything new in the last year is new to me.”

It takes a lot of willpower not to cry when you really, really feel like crying. You feel tears pricking at your eyes, and to your surprise, a thin, calloused thumb reaches to gingerly brush them away.

“I-I don’t know,” you sigh, and let your head lean against the top of Chara’s. “The last couple weeks have been so… so great. You and I are good with each other, a-and… and we kissed, and… things feel like we can all just breathe, but…”

A low hum leaves their throat. “… But things going well in the short-term does not mean there are not more worrisome things on the horizon. I understand that. It serves us well to plan for the future, and sometimes… the future is not pleasant.”

True to their word, they push themself up to brush a small peck over your lips. It tastes just like the soda you handed them, sticky and sweet, but with an undertone of their same unabashed self. “There is nothing I or anyone else can say to take away your worry. Because the truth is, anything kind I say would just be a placation.”

“I already know how you feel about those,” you murmur.

They chuckle. “Exactly. Even if I told you, ‘there, there, it will all be okay’, you would still worry, and my words would be for nothing. They would be empty, because I do not know for certain that it will be okay.”

Their fingers creep into the spaces between yours, giving you a squeeze that helps ground you here in the moment. It reminds you that the past and future don’t yet exist. Even though you should learn from the past and plan for the future, you shouldn’t let those things ruin the present.

“What I can tell you,” they add, “is that no matter what happens from this point on, I know that you do not roll over and give up. You may be a doormat most of the time, but you are a hurricane when it counts. I have seen it for myself.”

When you look down at them, you think you see their smile relax into something less sure for half a second. “… It is frightening, is it not? I am sorry that I… do not think I can be of any real comfort.” Their head gestures up, where the stars continue to churn above you. “The universe is a big place. It pains me to admit it, but in the grand scheme of things, every individual has a relatively small amount of control. And handling a lack of control as poorly as I do, I have learned that… well.”

They squeeze your hand again. “The unfortunate truth is that sometimes, there is nothing that can truly make it better. The only small, inconsequential comfort is to sit with someone else and figure out what little we have control of.”

Chara chuckles. “Yes, that is correct. Photosynthesis has the side effect of producing oxygen… something which all humans and many monsters need to survive. Very good. What else do plants need to grow? It is also something that we drink.”

Another little girl raises her hand. “Water! My mom says my granddad drinks like a fish, so I think that means he drinks lots of water!”

It looks like Chara has to bite down on their lip to keep from bursting out in laughter. “I, er, I suppose, haha. But, you are also right. The vast majority of complex living things, like plants and animals, need water to survive. Those are the basic things plants require ― soil, sunlight, and water. So I… yes, Patience?”

When you glance over from where you are at the beginning of the second row, she’s got her hand up again. “Um, my daddy says his gardenias grow so good because… because he talks to them! Is that like people? I mean, liiiiike… people need to talk to each other to be, um… to have inside their heads be good, right? What about plants? They grow really better if you talk to them, don’t they?”

Most of the class snickers, but Chara offers a sharp, “Ahem!” that reminds you of the way Toriel does it to get her children’s attention. They head toward the front of the next row, carefully depositing another cup of soil into that child’s pot.

“Do any of you think laughing at an unusual idea is a particularly kind choice to make?” they hum. “Now, talking to plants may seem like a strange one, but in fact, Patience is not entirely off the mark. There have been some scientific studies which suggest plants are capable of hearing, to put it simply, and that plants exposed to music might display an increased growth rate compared to plants which do not ‘hear’ any music.”

The two of you finish filling the students’ pots with soil in silence, and Chara returns to the front of the room. Clasping their hands behind their back for a moment, they almost remind you of the first time you met them at the coronation.

You have to note, their smile is less fake than it was back then.

Maybe that’s just because plants are involved, so they truly are a little happier to be gardening. Or… gardening adjacent.

Or maybe it’s something else. Regardless, they look quite a bit softer right now than they did the day you met them.

“What I want you all to understand more than anything else,” they say, “is that plants are living things. They are not like rocks or metal or plastic. Plants can feel pain and joy just like we can. They are alive, perhaps alive in a way that we find hard to understand… but while you are growing your marigolds, think of them as pets. Take good care of them, the same way you would take care of a pet.”

The song is interrupted by a child shouting, the sound of plastic banging on the tile floor, and Chara’s exclamation of, “Oh, dear!” Your attention is pulled away to see that a little scaly-winged monster boy has, evidently, knocked his flowerpot onto the ground. Even though it isn’t pottery and didn’t shatter, so isn’t dangerous, there’s a crack in its side and soil has spilled all over the floor. Probably most heartbreaking is that the poor kid has started to wail, clearly upset that he ‘ruined’ his project.

“There, there… it is okay.” Chara is on their knees immediately, grabbing the pot and scooping what soil they can into it. Despite the crack, they’re doing their best, and a pretty damn good job, holding it so it doesn’t come pouring back out.

“I know it is frustrating, so I will not tell you not to cry. But I promise this is not the end of the world, alright? There are very few mistakes that cannot be fixed, little one.”

They’re pretty fast, too. Within just a handful of seconds most of the dirt’s been cleaned up. “(Name), will you please come get him started with a new pot while I finish taking care of this?”

“Y-yeah, sure, I’m coming!” Ah, well, so much for your curiosity. Maybe now that you know a few lyrics of that song, you can search it up and see if there are any sources with a full version.

Before you head off, you take a quick glance at Patience’s name paper for her pot, and give her a thumbs up. “Looks great! I’ll, um, I’ll be back in a second, okay?”

Once you get over to the little boy with a new pot full of soil (and a couple tissues from the box on the teacher’s desk), you bend down on the opposite side from where Chara is. “Hey, it’s okay, honey.” You hand him the tissues and set the pot down on his desk. You keep an eye on his wings, suspecting that perhaps that was how he accidentally knocked it over the first time.

“This is why Mx. Dreemurr b-brought extras of things,” you offer gently. You reach over to run a light touch through his hair, intending to pull away if it seems like he doesn’t want to be touched. Thankfully, your instincts gave you the right idea, because he leans forward in a very eager bid for a hug.

“There we go, there… it’s okay, I-I gotcha…” You hold him close for a minute, rubbing his back. When you pull away, despite some tear tracks, he looks a little bit calmer. “Like Mx. Dreemurr said, there’s, um, not many mistakes that can’t be fixed, yeah? Besides,” you add with a wink, “don’t worry. I know where they bought everything, and… and it was all… haha… dirt cheap!’”

The rest of the class, including the little boy, start to laugh, and when you look over to where Chara is, they’re barely restraining their laughter.

“Yes, well,” they manage to choke out, “even if it was a bit expensive, there is no need to worry; after all, I am not dirt poor!”

The kids lose it, and you give the little winged boy one more pat to the head before you go over to help Chara finish cleaning up. You bend down, only for them to grab your hand and squeeze it under the guise of picking up a handful of dirt.

They lightly bump your shoulder, giving you a wink. “Well, well… your lowbrow humor is good for something, after all.”

You shake your head. “I don’t even wanna know w-what you promised her… I love this! It’s… it’s been a while since we’ve actually… you know, like, um… spent time alone, totally in private. It’s, um, it’s kind of nice when it’s just… me and you.”

“… I cannot help myself,” they groan, “it is ‘you and I’!”

… WAIT! Hold on! You’ve got them!

“I-it can be ‘me and you’!” you offer in defense. “Both are, like… equally valid in this case, aren’t they?” You give a teasing poke to their arm. “You’re wrooooong!”

Their eyes snap wide in shock, as if the very idea of being wrong about grammar has thrown them into a fucking existential crisis. It reminds you of being on that not-date with them, when the two of you were talking about that one girl Asriel went out with, and their reaction when you asked them how they knew she didn’t flirt with Toriel.

They let their head fall against the top of yours. When they speak, their tone comes out in a half-whine. “How could you?? You could not just let me have that, could you? Oh… my trust… it is irrevocably shattered… I must hand over my crown of intelligence to someone who thought I would gift her socks for Christmas…”

Just as you’ve turned to the first real page, they speak up again. Lowly, in a conspiratorial whisper that suggests they wouldn’t want anyone to overhear. “If you must know, (Name)… you are an exception. If there is to be any redemption for humanity, it is because of people like you and Frisk. I… apologize if I upset you.”

They stretch upward to press a brief kiss to your cheek. “What is the exaggerated sound effect Frisk uses…? ‘Mwah’? Haha, well. Mwah. In any case, whenever I say something about my hate for humanity… you are free to give me a kiss to shut me up. When I speak about it, I… I would like you to know that I consider you separate from the rest of humanity.”

You glance down at them with a tilt of your head. Although it probably looks doubtful, the truth is that you just… don’t really know how to respond to that.

“I do not hate you,” they say softly. “If you believe nothing else I say, please believe that.”

You want to believe them so badly.

They’ve always been honest with you, even if that honesty wasn’t always pretty or nice.

So you don’t have any reason not to believe them.

Even more than that… God. God. The way they say that to you cuts right to your SOUL.

They don’t hate you.

They used to, you think, on the simple basis of you being human.

But they don’t anymore.

You bury your face in their hair for a moment. Sometimes you’re not sure, because they have so much anger toward other humans, and you know they still have that fear in the back of their mind that one day they’ll turn around and you’ll shove a knife into their spine. How could somebody not hate a person they think is going to betray them?

And they don’t hate you, though!

The fact that they felt the need to say it out loud, despite that they’ve said it before in several silent ways, suggests they think you needed to hear it.

Did you?

“Th… thanks.” Your voice comes out shakier than you would have liked, but you’re grateful that you don’t start crying again. That’s the kind of thing you probably could cry for hours over. Coming from them, “I don’t hate you” is borderline a confession of love.

Your smile takes shape in their hair. “I-I’m glad you don’t h-hate me… because… because I really like you.”

“Oh, my,” they sigh dramatically, lolling their head against your chest. “You cannot go more than five minutes without saying so. I know it is Valentine’s Day, but please, you are spoiling me. I might get used to hearing that.”

When you pull back, you’re still smiling. “So? Maybe I… haha… maybe I w-wanna get you used to it! It’s nice, huh? I really like you, Chara. I-I like you, I like you…”

“Oh, my God!” They’re laughing now. “Stop! Now you are just being silly!”

You leave an invisible lip mark on their temple. “I like youuuuu… I like you a-and there’s… there’s nothing you can do about iiiiit…”

Damn, you love the sound of their laughter. “Honestly!! If I say it back, will you stop?”

That’s what makes you freeze. Your eyes go wide, your smile turns hopeful, and you look right at them with an expression you’re sure reads as, … Would you?

The pink flush that rises in their face reaches down their neck. What comes out is an anxious laugh, but… it doesn’t sound bad-anxious. More like they’ve got butterflies in their stomach.

“I… haha… I am… I feel… ahahahah… I-I am… I am unbearably romantic for you. And I am so sorry for that!”

You can’t stop yourself from joining them, resting your head atop theirs as you giggle.

Well, what else were you expecting?

Actually, you think you prefer the way they say it to a simple “I like you”.

There’s nothing simple about Chara Dreemurr… and aside from their pain, you wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Now, (Name)… say it… say the words.”

“What??”

“What?? Surely if you like me, you must have something to tell me on this day!”

“O… oh…”

“Say the words, (Name).”

“Pffft… h-happy Valentine’s Day, Chara!”

“Ooooh. I enjoyed that. Can I make you say it again, I wonder?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Chara.”

“Would a third time be testing my luck?”

“I-I think… I think you should say it to me…!”

“Oh, my… what does Asriel call that? Uno Reverse???”

This book is never getting read.

And you think you’re just fine with that.

He nods, nodding for you to walk with him a minute. “Yeah, no, I bet you went to the schools that had already been established for a while. And they don’t teach any monster history aside from legends about Mt. Ebott, right?”

“Yeah…” Your mind is filled with all kinds of magic images. You can picture spells being cast, so many different colors that you wonder if there are as many magic abilities as there are variations of colors in the world. How many would that be? Thousands? Millions? “I wish… I wish they would’ve taught this stuff.”

“It doesn’t surprise me, you know? I hate to say it,” he scoffs, “but the people who founded Ebott did a good job covering up that it was their little monster-hating, rain-dancing, circle-drumming colony who created the barrier. It’s like every trace of monsters got removed or painted over or whatever, and barely any history books mention that we were ever here.”

That’s. More than a little fucked up.

You’re blurting it out before you can stop yourself. “Oh, my God, that’s f-fucked up!”

Asriel offers a bleating laugh and a one-armed hug, the habit of which you can see he definitely gets from Asgore. “Yeah, kinda. But hey, we’re making progress, so I can’t say kids today aren’t getting the stuff you missed out on!” He grinds to a halt again, blinking. “… Oh, my God. Did I really just say ‘kids today’? Holy shit. I probably need another MagiGo.”

“If you do that, I’m… I’m pretty sure Chara’s gonna kill you.”

“Yeah, I thought you might be at least a little interested. You’re such a magic geek,” he tease. “But, yeah, I’ll pass that on and you just think about it, okay? Now, I gotta talk to Frisk for a minute, so…” His expression shifts to something comically stern. Despite this, he’s clearly trying not to bust up laughing. “Get… get back to work!”

Your reaction is probably about what he expected ― that is, you’re incredibly obvious in trying to bite back your own laughter. “N-no, no, my boss told me I can take a break whenever I need to! And my… my best friend just hit me with a lot of info! I’m stressed!”

Can he blame you for not being fooled? Asriel isn’t a big fuzzy pushover by any means, but he’s the most laidback boss you’ve ever had. The only time you’ve ever seen him yell or bark orders was when you were shot at the press conference.

“Gee, okaaaaaaaay. Go talk to your misanthropic datemate, why don’tcha? Pretty sure they’re out doing planting around the sides of the building. Have fun, you crazy kids.” With that, he gives a small knock on Frisk’s door before pushing it open, given that it’s already partially open. “… Frisk! Again, seriously? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you… if you wear a suit jacket to work, you gotta wear at least semi-matching pants or a skirt, not a ruffly hot-pink tutu!”

“Azzyyyyyyy!” you hear your friend whine from inside. “I’m having an office ballerina day, and anyway, Serena dared me!”

“Then you need to stop taking dares, especially from your girlfriend! I love you, dude, but this outfit looks unprofessional!”

“Unprofessional? Azzy’s gonna lecture me on professionalism? Milk came out your nose at breakfast today ‘cause you were laughing at a fart joke!”

“Yeah, that you told! And it didn’t happen in a meeting!”

“I don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so if I’m not in front of people, I can wear whatever I want!”

“Sure, and what happens if I call an emergency meeting?”

“Stop asking reasonable questions!! You know those give me an existential crisis!”

You slip quietly away, though not before your CHECK gets a barb in at Frisk’s expense.

You’re glad to see those treatments for Frisk’s voice are working fabulously.

As you reach to touch Chara’s shoulder, you make sure to call out a soft, “Just me,” so that they don’t get startled. Though you can see them stiffen up for half a second, they calm immediately once your voice meets their ears.

They’re pushing themself up leisurely before you know it, dusting off their hands after what you assume is a hard morning’s work. Their cheeks are even more flushed than usual from the slightly chilly air coupled with the increased blood flow to their face from bending down. “Well, well. If it is not someone very adorable!”

You giggle and lean to brush a kiss over their lips. “H-hey, beautiful.”

“… Ah!” Their face turns even redder. Although they happily return the kiss, their hand quickly reaches up as if they can scrub the pink from their cheeks. “Please, you are making me blush!”

“Haha… well… good! You’re really cute when you blush.” Oh, boy, you just said that out loud. No turning back from it. So you double down instead, taking their hand with one of yours, and using the other to stroke two fingers over their cheek. True to their word, not only is their face bright red, it’s also warm. “Uh-huuuuh,” you hum as if you’re a scientist confirming her hypothesis, “j-just as I thought. I’ve never seen a case so severe… Mx. Dreemurr… your cuteness, it’s… it’s terminal… I’m so sorry…”

Oh, geez. That snort of theirs when they find something exceedingly funny never fails to put a smile on your face. “My goodness! Is this why I have not seen much of you this morning? You have been neglecting your duties in order to think up more ways to romantically antagonize me?”

You give them another kiss, this time on the cheek. “H-hey, hey… you should be throwing me a parade, okay? I just got Asriel to take a break for a few minutes.”

“Did you? Thank God. At least it is not nearly as bad as it was when he was first crowned, but I swear he has forgotten the meaning of the word ‘break’ in the last few months.”

“Well,” you add with a blush of your own, “I had to, um… bribe him with an energy drink, but…”

“Aha! So I am not the only one whose weaknesses you exploit. Tsk, tsk.” They shake their head. “You are such a doormat. Someone mentions something they like, even if it is perhaps not the best thing for them, and you fold like a bad hand of cards because you want them to like you.”

You give them a pout. “Aaaand… w-what does it say about you that you keep encouraging me by taking the chocolate every time? Y-you’re like a fish who keeps biting the end of a lure!”

They roll their eyes up to the sky. “Hmmm… well, I suppose I am no better than you, haha. Regardless, thank you not only for forcing my brother to take a break, but also for informing me about the energy drink. Now he cannot lie to me and say it is his first one when I catch him drinking another after dinner.”

“Hm, true. Guess I, uh, saved the day! Oh, actually, now that I convinced him to take a break… I-I’m here to convince you to take a break.”

“Ah, is that right?” They tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “Do you believe I have been working as hard as Asriel?”

You reach over and take their hand, holding it up to be at eye level. “Dirt under your fingernails. Ummm… calluses still there. And your face is red from being bent over. B-besides… Asriel’s my best friend, so, I know what working hard looks like. You’ve definitely been working hard.”

They somehow manage to stick their tongue out at you without losing their sunny smile. “Well, I am not just a pretty face, you know! In any case, I do not believe I will need much convincing…” Their thin fingers twist to fill your hand’s empty spaces. “Let us see what you have got, though.”

Ever prepared (and maybe a little predictable), your other hand reaches into your pocket. “I’ve got chocolate.”

“… That will do it.” No sooner have you taken the candy bar out of your pocket, than it’s been snatched from your fingers. And, of course, no sooner is it in their hand than it’s been unwrapped and they’ve sunk their teeth into it. “Mmm. I am quickly becoming accustomed to this brand, I think. Although even bad chocolate is still good… this is the only human-made brand I actually enjoy.”

Almost as if proving it, they offer it in your direction. “My apologies, I have forgotten my manners. Would you like a bite?”

“N-nah, it’s all you.”

“How generous.” Their hand swings a bit as they tug you gently, guiding you toward the concrete. A silent bid for a walk around the building as they take a brief respite from their work. “You must want something.”

You can’t help but laugh and go along with them. “Why does everyone think I’m bribing them today?? C-can’t a girl just be nice?”

It’s no big shock that the chocolate is already gone, so Chara tosses the wrapper into the trash can when you pass by it. “Oh, dear, you know how suspicious a denial like that makes me. However, I have accepted the bribe, so as a matter of honor, I must at least hear you out.”

Do they… really want you to closely share a memory with them that badly? Even though you know they like you, you never really thought they might want to unravel your mind the way you do theirs.

“Yes, yes, you are correct. Hm. It is intriguing.” They twirl a lock of hair around their finger. “If you would like to share it with me… if you are still interested… you are coming over for dinner, are you not? And Mother would love to have you stay the night. We would have several hours to try it after dinner and before bedtime.”

Idly you wonder if Chara truly considers themself as having a ‘bedtime’ now that they’re an adult, but it’s funny anyway. And it makes you very nervous to think about trying a new technique on them without doing it with anyone else, when last time it caused them to freeze you out for two weeks.

Then again, they let you use that same technique on them again, with some planning and boundaries. They seem much better with the idea of a first use if they know it’s coming and it isn’t just this thing that randomly happens.

And. You do want to share with them like they’ve been willing to share small pieces with you.

“If… if you’re sure…” You make sure to keep your distance at the moment, though. CHECK doesn’t require touch, EMPATHIZE first flared up through touch, and so it’s a wild card as to whether this new… CONFIDE… might start up if you get too close. If that happens, you can kiss any bonding tonight goodbye.

“Yes, well, we will see if I stay of the same mind later. However, this kind of thing,” they laugh, “might be the closest I ever get to using magic, even if it is not actually me performing the magic. I believe it would be a… well, a learning experience.”

That does make sense. Not that you think they wouldn’t want to take whatever you’re willing to share anyway, but surely they would be more excited to do it in a way that might feel to them like they’re doing magic.

It makes you a little sad, somehow.

You remember their reaction when the rest of their family was oohing and aahing over being happy to teach you when yours first manifested. They have a chip on their shoulder about not being able to do magic.

Are they desperate to know what it feels like? A bit too curious?

Or… do they really think they’re not worth anything because they can’t?

Well… you can straighten all that out some other time.

The smile slips entirely from Chara’s face for a moment. It’s enough to make them step away from the barely-open door, and their whole being writhes in disgust.

This was one of the places you stayed? These people are more interested in arguing with each other than in your wellbeing.

You said you stayed with your friends’ parents. If that were the case, they think they might hear some other person in the house, or at least these people would mention their own biological child.

Instead, it sounds like perhaps you were less than truthful with them. This doesn’t seem like you were staying with a friend’s family; this sounds like you were in a foster home, with ‘parents’ you didn’t really know and who didn’t know you at all.

Why wouldn’t you mention it? Why would you only choose to show it now? You’ve always been far more of an open book than they are.

The idea that you have things you want to hide as well, just like they do… for some reason, that upsets them.

Not for the fact that you haven’t told them before now, because there are still so many things they haven’t told or shown you. It’s just upsetting that you’ve suffered in ways you feel like you have to hide. Things that hurt so much you’re ashamed of that pain, hurt so much you’ve been afraid to show people until now.

It’s almost like looking in a mirror. That is exactly what they’ve been doing.

“Good grief,” they mutter, “that is concerning behavior.”

If they realize at all the obvious, Um, duh! that hangs in the air, they shove it down and try not to think about the implication that it means it’s concerning when they do it as well.

Chara scoffs. “Why, I have never heard anything so ridiculous.” Their mind flashes back to something you said to them months ago, when they got home from the hospital. And they don’t know why, but it comes shooting right out of their mouth, phrased in their own way. “Just because someone cannot or refuses to see your worth does not mean you have none.”

“… I-I can’t imagine what I could be worth to anyone.” You sniffle and drag your sleeve over your eyes. “I wanna run away. I hate m-my stupid life.”

Whoa. Whoa, what did you just say?

Before now, Chara couldn’t have even conceived of the word ‘hate’ coming from your lips.

It’s… jarring. They find that they really, truly do not care for it at all.

Your voice sounds so raw and spent, like you’ve been crying for hours and nobody has noticed. No one has sat up and seen that you need help. You’ve been left to drown by yourself; either no one in your life cares, or they don’t know what to do, or you…

… Won’t let them in so they can help.

There is a tired rage on your shoulders, something akin to a dying fire. You’ve been so brightly angry, such intensity for a relatively short amount of time, threatening to burn your entire self away. They can see it in your face that you want to stop feeling like this, but you do not know how.

God, they don’t even know what to do. Like they have so many times, they reach for your hand. That always works, for one of you to ground the other.

Almost like their fingers are the fangs of a snake ready to strike, you pull your hand away from them. That’s so startling, their eyes widen in disbelief. You… have never done that before. You always adore having physical contact with them. Whatever they’ve been willing to give you, you lean into it without too much hesitation unless you’re afraid you’ll hurt them.

The way you yank your hand back sparks a memory. Your very first magic lesson with Asriel, you opened the door for them after to lead them into the house. They remember where their mind was, and they must have looked dazed enough that you touched their shoulder to shake them out of it.

You reacted now the exact same way they did, and they did not even actually touch you.

“C-can you not?” they hear you choke out. “Please?” Although your tone is much softer than they might expect, you wince at your own words. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

They shake their head. “Think nothing of it. You do not need to apologize for not wanting to be touched right now.”

Your shoulders shake, and your voice cracks as you continue to cry. Chara wishes more than anything that they could take you in their arms to comfort you. This is the most pain they’ve ever seen you in, and you’ve felt like you had to hide it all this time? Are you even healed from this?

Those moments when you’re so surprised that someone is grateful for you. When you press in against Chara like you’re glad not to be alone. When you blush a little too hard at simple acts of affection like you’ve scarcely had them before. When you told them it’s hard to know who you can trust too, after they told you straight-up that trust is difficult for them.

Are those your scars from everything that’s been done to you?

Worse, from everything that hasn’t been done?

They think maybe they should hold this information very gently.

You chose to show them this specifically, something they could easily use against you. They could poke your scars or rip open your old wounds that might have healed, and they could make you have to heal all over again.

God, no. How could they even think about doing that to you?

“I have nobody,” you sob, ducking your head down into your arms. “No one cares about me! I’m all alone! It h-hurts so bad and I just want my parents back, but they’re gone! I can’t even count on my f-friends, ‘cause they’re all assholes!”

Are those the same ‘friends’ who locked you in an escape room closet, then laughed at the anxiety attack which reduced you to tears? Though Chara themself would try to find a more sophisticated word, the one you chose is at least incredibly accurate.

It’s frustrating beyond all measure that they can’t hold you while this happens. They remember being held in the first two of their memories that you saw. It was peaceful. They can’t bring themself to touch you if you don’t want to be touched, however.

The sound of your strained, weak-blaze wailing might follow them into their dreams. Your anger has faded, exposing the pain which brought that fury into existence.

They hear your breath hitch, followed by a meek query that’s almost swallowed up by the wind. “W-why… why doesn’t anyone want me?”

It’s almost enough for Chara to choke on every less than kind word they’ve ever said about you.

No wonder you persisted in your friendship with not only Asriel but Frisk, despite their warning you to leave their family alone in the early days. No wonder you cling to any scrap of praise and approval anyone gives you. No wonder you seem to worry that your presence is unwanted or people are simply inviting you to things to be polite; that you sometimes have trouble believing people enjoy your company.

A long time ago, people threw you away like garbage, and you started to believe they were right to do so.

You might be healed from the worst of it, with your wounds scarred over, but pain like that never disappears entirely, even if it doesn’t control you anymore.

Their nerves crackle as they recall certain things they’ve said to you, particularly in the beginning. Things they knew might chase you off… but things they didn’t know would hurt you as deeply as they probably did.

Maybe… you just want them to understand. You want to show them your past, just like they’ve been trying to give you pieces of theirs.

You want to show them the things about you that you don’t necessarily like, things they could probably exploit to hurt you if they wanted to… and you’re trusting that they won’t.

You’ve never done a damn thing to hurt them on purpose.

Why are they so afraid that might suddenly change? Why do they still think, after over six months of knowing you, that you want to hurt them? You took a bullet for them after less than ninety days of knowing them.

If you would do that for them, if you would open up like this for them, why would they ever think about hurting you?

Is that the way you feel about them? That the thought of hurting them is so incomprehensible you can’t picture yourself doing it deliberately?

They… think they understand you a bit better now.

“I want you,” they murmur. They can’t get too close, but they can at least say that. Even if it won’t change the memory. Despite the fact that it doesn’t change what happened, they know from experience that what comes to pass in the memory while they’re here is something you’ll remember.

Even though it won’t change the past, it will make a difference to you. Your actions in their memories made a difference to them. Because if it doesn’t truly matter what they do, then all that matters is what they choose to do.

And it’s… easier, somehow, to do it here in the mindspace. Magic flows through them, giving them confidence, softening their sharp edges so it’s not as hard to break through their own walls to be honest with you. “You have become dear to me, (Name). I do not let go of dear things so easily.” It’s still whispered, still tentative. It feels so loud and intimate, like they’re shouting some kind of declaration of love from the top of a mountain.

Their fingers twitch, buzzing with the itch of wanting to touch you. “You are not some unwanted burden. If people think of you that way, they are very ignorant, and it is their loss. I… I am glad that you are in my life.”

Their heart doesn’t know whether to be broken or relieved that you begin to cry harder.

They think you are ready for them to leave.

“It is alright now, (Name).” It comes out surer when they repeat it. “That time of your life is over. I meant it; I want you in my life. So do my siblings and my parents. You are not unwanted or a problem to us. I do not…” They have to swallow, hard, because tears are threatening, and it won’t do you any good if they fall apart too.

“I do not want you to ever feel that way again. If your mind tries to tell you any of those things, it is lying to you. You are better than to simply take being lied to, even by yourself. Do you understand what I am saying?”

You nod against them, and your hand comes down to lay on top of their chest. Your fingers clutch the fabric of their shirt like they’re the only thing you can depend on right now.

They let out a heavy sigh, their head falling to rest atop yours. Once there, they ghost gentle kisses over you. Hopefully they didn’t sound demanding or harsh… it just twists their stomach in knots to think that you suffered like you have.

No one is perfect. They know that from personal experience.

But you were crying out for help, and nobody came.

The world failed you. People failed you. There were at least four adults who didn’t care what you needed, and several so-called ‘friends’ of yours who actively made things worse.

They knew you weren’t lying when you said you had no one, that you felt alone and got used to being alone.

Being there and seeing, feeling, firsthand what it did to you was different than hearing you talk about it.

How can you still have any kind of faith in anyone after everyone who should have helped you just ignored you?

“Hey, flower child, do you normally talk to the foliage like it’s a person? You know plants can’t drink, right? They don’t have mouths. The fuck is Chara teaching you?”

Though you flinch slightly at the abrupt voice, it registers immediately as Flowey, so you don’t startle like you might have a few months ago. You’ve gotten fairly used to his presence by now, especially for the fact like he likes to pop up when you and Chara are working in the Dreemurrs’ back garden.

You look over from the hellebore just in time to see him disappear and sprout back up only a few feet from you. “Hi, Flowey. Coming to visit your harem?”

He scoffs. “Eat shit, (Name)! The crappy flower harem anime’s been canceled. I’m committed to Clementine now.”

“… Clementine??”

“A-duh! The blue clematis in my room? She’s better than a million daisies. Ya know, with all this talk about marriage and Goddamn spring fever and shit, I’m thinking maybe I’m ready to take the plunge. Tie the knot. Weigh myself down with the old ball and chain.”

For a second you wonder if he’s delusional, or if that clematis actually is like… his girlfriend. He’s technically a plant, and Chara’s told you that plants are able to communicate with each other in weird ways that don’t involve speech. With the addition of magic, it’s not a huge leap to think he could talk to it ― uh, her?

Of course, it’s infinitely more likely that Flowey is just trolling. As usual. “Enough of you sticking your nose in my personal life! Where’s my pain-in-the-ass, other-half brother?”

“Asriel? Um, in the office. He and Frisk had some extra paperwork to do.”

“Uuuuugh. He’s never fucking around when I need him!”

“W-well, Asriel doesn’t usually fuck around, I dunno if you should be surprised…”

“Oh, my GOD! SHUT UP! I’m done with you and Frisk and Mom and all your shitty puns!! If I hear one more, ‘Hi, Hungry, I am Mom’, I’m gonna lose it!”

You reach over to pet the top of his petals. “Can’t lose what you never had, hehe.”

“Fuck off! Okay, so if those two yokels aren’t home, then where’s Chara? You’ve always got tabs on them, at least.”

“O-oh, I do not.” Just for that crack, you pull your hand away to pretend resuming your attention toward the hellebore instead. “Just to prove that, um… I have no idea where they are right now.”

Flowey makes a show of flopping himself back into the dirt. “Godddd, why are all my siblings so useless?!”

Flowey rolls his eyes. “Cut the weak-ass manipulation attempts, sugarbee. When it comes to me, you know you can’t play ball. Now, Chara’s told us all a little about it. No damn details. But I know they’ve shown you memories of what life was like in that village, because I was there that one time, and they told Azzy you saw stuff they don’t talk about. So. What. Did. They. Do. For. Show. And. Tell?!”

You frown. Although you don’t know that he’s going to use the information for anything sinister, telling him anything you’ve seen that he doesn’t already know would be a betrayal of Chara’s trust. You’re not going to do that. They haven’t told their family about any of it for a reason. “I… I can’t tell you that, Flowey! Why do you think they don’t talk about it? They’re not, um, ready to talk to you guys about it…”

“Are you kidding me?! Over fifteen living years they’ve known us, we’re family, and they’re ‘not ready’, but they’re ready to talk to someone they haven’t even known a whole year?! Fuck! You’d think they didn’t love us!”

Oh. Maybe that’s what this is about… Flowey feels like Chara’s reluctance to talk about their past means they don’t love or trust their family. From experience you know that isn’t true at all. They love their family more than anything else and would literally, well and truly, die for any of their parents or siblings.

You do, however, know what that feeling is like. It hit you every time you tried to get Chara to open up even a little before things got complicated. And the only reason, you think, they’re sharing with you is because things got complicated. Without that, you’d probably be just as in the dark about their past as Flowey.

Flowey gives an exaggerated groan and launches himself out of your lap. “You two are making me sick, oh, my God! What is this nonsense, Chara? Beginning of November you ran away at the thought of kissing her, now you can’t keep your hands off each other? You’re a mess, dude!”

“Ugh, stop that.” Chara visibly recoils. “Frisk may not mind that term, but how many times have I told you I prefer not to be called, ugh, ‘dude’? Or ‘chick’, for that matter. They are both disgustingly informal.”

“Okay, then, whatcha wanna be called? Your Highness? My liege? Their Majesty? Take your pick, you stuffy little brat!”

“Hmm… you know, any of those would work just fine. I am still technically a princex, after all. And they are all much more preferable to ‘dude’ or ‘chick’. If you like, instead of any of that, you may simply call me by ― gasp ― my name.”

“God, you guys both suck! I’m outta here!” He disappears into the ground, then pops back up a second later. “Ooh, oh, (Name), so do we have a deal or what? I guess I’ll owe you, but only if you don’t ask for anything super dumb!”

You giggle, shifting around now that you no longer have a giant flower monster in your lap. “I’ll, um, I’ll think about it and let you know soon, okay?”

“Fine, but you better not take too long!” He points a leaf at you, then Chara. “Now, you two take your alone time and shove it! I’m gonna go decompress with Clementine!”

With that, he’s once more gone like a thief in the night.

You turn to Chara, and within seconds you’re both laughing. Chara laughs so hard they have to pull their handkerchief out of their pocket to wipe their eyes. “Haha, my goodness! What kind of deal are you making with him, anyway? I do not think I need to warn you that making deals with Flowey requires quite a bit of caution.”

“Y-yeah, I know that,” you hum. Although you don’t want to lie to them, Flowey needs this to be a surprise, and you want to preserve that. Maybe you can tell them without telling them? “He’s… trying to get your birthday present mapped out, and he, um, asked for my help. For some reason, he thinks my CHECK will be a big assist in… like, you know, finding just the right thing.”

There! That’s not lying, is it? Flowey did ask for help getting a gift for Chara’s birthday, and he does think your CHECK will be useful for that.

You think you’d pass a polygraph test, at least. You didn’t tell them details, but you also didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

“Is that all? He is willing to owe you over something that small?” They laugh again, reaching to smooth out the soil around the hellebore’s stems. “My birthday is September 9th. Does he truly want to get it ready this early? All that will happen is that he will misplace the gift. One year, I received a box of staples from him on my birthday, then when he finally found the actual gift, he gave me gardening gloves for Halloween. You do not know how disappointed I was that he did not give me chocolate.”

They sigh, brushing a kiss over your head. “With any luck, but do not fret about it. And I do mean it; if you are ever so inclined, you may CONFIDE in me again, haha. Your magic was… mh, well, an intoxicating sensation.”

“Aw, you think? I… guess I’m mostly used to it by now a-and it just feels normal to me.” You let your thumb run gingerly over their thigh, back and forth, like you sometimes do when you hold their hand. “Um, hey. About that first time I used CONFIDE with you…”

“Aah, yes? I should apologize again for that ― I fear I stayed a bit too long and exhausted you.”

You shake your head. “Oh, no, you don’t have to be sorry about that! I… I didn’t mind. I got to fall asleep in your arms once it was over,” you giggle. “It’s just, um… I wanted to apologize, actually.”

Their eyes go a bit wide, though their smile doesn’t fade. “You want to apologize to me for that? Ahahaha, why, may I ask?”

“W-well, I know I got really emotional in there… unlike that EMPATHIZE session we had on Valentine’s Day, I, um, didn’t really have a plan about what memory I wanted to show you. It… just sorta happened. And Flowey said it… m-made you really mad… to see me hurting like that.”

After all, while you know you aren’t responsible for anyone else’s emotions, the last thing you ever want to do is cause Chara any stress, and anger is stressful. That seems to be their default emotion when something is upsetting to them. Maybe because it’s easier and more satisfying than sadness or fear or pain.

On the other hand, when they hurt, you don’t get furious. You’re angry that they’re in pain, sure, but you feel sad for them more than anything.

You see how they try to cover their anger up, even when everyone knows it’s there. They staple on a smile that’s fake at least half the time. They laugh to cope with whatever unpleasantness is rearing its ugly head. They pose diversions or bluntly say they don’t want to talk about it. Even while their anger is boiling their insides alive, they keep a lid very tightly on it. So they don’t lose control.

Maybe that’s why they’re almost underweight, huh?

They spend a lot of effort not only on being angry to avoid feeling sad or afraid or hurt, but on trying to hide their anger itself.

Being so angry so often must take up a lot of energy.

All the chocolate in the world couldn’t fuel their anger well enough to keep it from burning up practically every calorie they eat.

This is killing them in more ways than one, isn’t it?

Of course, pretending you’re not still angry about pieces of your own pain hasn’t done you any favors, either. You and Chara have gone in equal, opposite, parallel directions with your trauma.

You hope that means the two of you can help each other find a balance when it comes to anger. God knows they need to be less angry, and you perhaps need to be a tiny bit more angry sometimes.

Before they can finish their sentence, the door suddenly bursts open. In comes Asriel first, with his reading glasses propped up in his horns, then Frisk following along behind him. “Mooooom! Frisk and I are home! I’m really sorry we stayed at the office so long!”

“Well, it is about time, my children! Young man and young enby, are you two aware you are late for dinner?” Boy, she says that like it’s some sort of war crime. It’s the same voice parents use when they find out you have an F on your report card, and it strikes fear into your heart.

“Go easy on us, Mommyyyyyy,” Frisk whines… as they proceed to literally flop down into your and Chara’s laps. They seem entirely nonplussed about cuddling against you both, even undeterred by the squeaks they get from the two of you. Whatever else is true, they do look incredibly devoid of their typical energy. “There was so much paperwork… oh, my God, my hands are cramped from typing… I can barely move my little baby wrists… I think I’m dead…”

“Aww, Frisk!” You’re not willing to move away from Chara entirely, but you do gently disentangle your hand from theirs atop their thigh so you can stroke your friend’s hair. “P-poor thing, did mean, old Asriel overwork you?”

“Heyyy, (Name)! Betrayal! Mean, old Asriel overworked himself, too!”

“Oh, God… so it’s worse than I thought. Toriel!! I-I can confirm it ― they’re both dead! You can’t deny them pie, I think that’s the only thing that’ll save them!”

Frisk moans not unlike a starved, desperate zombie, “Pieeeeeeeee…”

Asriel’s response is to snort and lean over the couch to get a hug from Chara, then voice what you’re thinking. “Frisk, dude, you sound like a zombie.”

“Ah, well, zombies only eat brains, do they not?” Chara smirks. “At least you and (Name) are safe, brother.”

You give them a poke to their stomach, which earns you another squeak from them. “Y-you, on the other hand, better get running.”

Neither of you get to say a word, because a commanding, “Ahem!” from the kitchen doorway gets your collective focus. There’s Toriel with a spatula in one hand and the other curled into a fist on her hip.

“Oh, have I got your attention now?” She’s still smiling, indicating that she’s mostly teasing you all. “For you children to play around while dinner gets cold is unacceptable, especially since two of you are already late.” She points her spatula at each of you in turn. “Asriel, go get your father from the garden so he can wash up. Frisk, go take an aspirin for your hands. Chara and (Name), would you two mind setting the table?”

Asriel huffs, though he heads toward the back door anyway. “Why do they get asked while me and Frisk get bossed around?”

Toriel raises an eyebrow at her son, regarding him with a cool expression. “They were not late for dinner.”

Chara looks stunning, so no surprise there. They’re wearing that black suit they mentioned, perfectly tailored to their body, and if Chilleen thinks you look sharp, well, has she seen them? It suits them (PUN INTENDED!) way more than it does you. The sleeves are fitted well, your eye easily follows the seam line of their trousers up their legs, and they’ve got a pair of strappy silver heels on. They look so put-together, so refined, with a plain stainless steel ring on one finger and a pale blue handkerchief (or, is it a pocket square??) tucked into their breast pocket and a layer of deep red lipstick.

And their nose in a book, as usual, while Asriel chats to whoever’s on the other side of him.

You lower yourself into the chair beside Chara, then reach over to playfully, slowly pull their book down into their lap. “Heya, handsome. Reading anything good?”

They blink owlishly at you several times, almost like they can’t believe you just did that. Something in their eyes looks amused, though. “Well, no, not anymore, haha.” They dog-ear the page before letting their hands close the book… and immediately press a kiss to your cheek. As if they would rather focus on you. “I prefer this view, actually. Greetings, my dear. How has your morning been?”

“Ah, please.” Their eyes roll up to the ceiling. “Even though none of us are actually working today, he is still in king mode. He is unbearably social, and I believe I would just make things worse for him. Do you remember the coronation party? I am terrible in these kinds of settings.”

Honestly, Asriel’s coronation feels like a million years ago; how long has he been king for? Ten months? Not even a full year, though pretty close. That you’ve known Chara for coming up on a year is kind of exciting to you.

“I do remember it,” you say softly. “A-and you may say that, but… you were still interesting to me even back then. After the party, I know I, um, thought about you a lot. I can remember looking at you and thinking…”

“Haha, you must have been thinking, ‘I wish I had not ended up standing next to this misanthropic bastard’, were you not?”

You give them the most exasperated look you can muster, followed by a squeeze to their hand. “N-no! Oh, my God. I was thinking, ‘Wow, look at them, they’re so fucking out of my league’.”

God, the way pink blossoms over their face is the most gorgeous image. That’s one of your absolute favorite things in life. Along with jumping to high-five Frisk and getting flour flicked onto your cheek when you cook with Toriel and burning your tongue when you drink tea with Asgore and seeing Asriel pretend-wince when you get into an elbowing war with him, one of the best things is watching Chara blush.

“Ahahahah… do not pull my leg. I was awful to you! The way I treated you was not ‘out of someone’s league’, that is called ‘hideously unapproachable’, haha.”

“Mmmm. Definitely not hideous…”

“Are you attempting a world record today for how many times you can make me blush within the span of twenty-four hours?”

“Huh, maybe? I-I mean, I like it when you blush, so…”

They snort in a way that prompts them to almost smack a hand over their mouth. In the most elegant way, of course. “So you have said on more than one occasion! This means you are actively manipulating my reactions! Have you no shame?”

You purse your lips for a moment as if in thought… and lift their hand up so you can kiss their knuckles. “Ummm. I guess not.”

“Oh, my God… what are you even…” With their book balanced on their lap, their other hand lifts up and tries to cover their face completely. Even then, they can’t hide the deepening blush creeping past their cheeks. “Is it possible for one to develop heatstroke from the high temperature of a blush? Because if it is, I am blaming you.”

You grin and kiss their hand again. “Aww, what… h-haven’t had enough of me visiting you in the hospital?”

Their fingers tighten around yours, like they’re fighting for control of the gesture. “Did I not tell you something about low blows not three weeks ago?” They’re laughing, though, and not in the way they do when something upsetting is going on. “However, I suppose I should be grateful you can joke about it, should I not? I recall you being quite angry that I did not apologize to myself during that particular conversation.”

… Oh. Were you angry? You can remember not necessarily being happy, but if they think you were angry, they’re the expert on anger. “I… I was? Well…”

“You were.” Their voice lowers, presumably so anyone close doesn’t hear. They don’t like talking about this kind of thing, especially in public, you’ve noticed. They’ve only just worked up to being romantic with you around other people. “I am not such a fool as to have no idea why you were angry. Regardless, I am glad it has not left an indelible mark on you such that neither of us can laugh about it.”

They tug their hand away from you, except they bring your hand with theirs, and press a kiss to the back of it. “They do say laughter is the best medicine, correct? It is how I personally cope with most things, so I am glad you are able to make use of humor as well.”

Although it could be simply that they speak very properly, and you know this by now, the word they used, ‘cope’, that’s a very specific word. Not many people would use it outside of certain contexts.

You think they must know the way they handle things isn’t always 100% healthy.

It’s certainly not something you can talk about right now, though. Too heavy a discussion for a day like this. Zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket.

Your gaze shifts over to Chara, not least of all because they’ve set their hand over yours now that you’ve sat down. “Chara… are we… I mean… do you… d-do you wanna dance now, or… or later…?” You curl your fingers around theirs. God, you promised yourself and them that you wouldn’t put labels on this right away. That you didn’t have to jump into a relationship. Even if you’ve thought about it…

Your bond with them has deepened since then, hasn’t it?

It’s not like you can help the way you see them. The way you want to be with them, even if you’re taking it slow.

You didn’t push. You just asked a question. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Plus, it’s been five months since the two of you plainly confessed your feelings to each other and agreed to explore those feelings. Thinking of putting a label on this after five months isn’t necessarily ‘right away’.

And besides, they don’t seem angry.

“They did say ‘special someones’,” Chara hums. In a rare twist, it’s them getting up first and pulling you to your feet. Their eyes offer you a mischievous sparkle. “You are indeed a very special someone. Am I also a special someone?”

You don’t think you’ve ever moved toward them so fast in your life.

Chara’s fingers mimic your earlier movement on their back, tapping against the base of your neck. “Well, that is awfully easy to answer. (Name), come now, you are an intelligent woman. Of course, if you… ahem.” They pause to clear their throat, blushing a bit harder. Seems they can’t meet your eyes either, because they suddenly find the floor super interesting. “If you were my girlfriend, then I would be your…”

They stop short, eyes widening as they look back up toward you. “… Oh. Ah. Hm. I see the problem.”

“I-I just don’t know what word to use, is all.” God, this whole topic is just making the two of you all flustered. Although it’s not like you didn’t expect there to be challenges in dating someone like Chara (they literally said so themself, after all), it’s one thing to realize that and another to go right up against those things.

That said, you’re a little relieved that one of your biggest challenges is what you might call them if the two of you were an item.

“Like,” you try to clarify, “how I would, um, introduce you to other people, you know? This is my ‘blank’, Chara. I know Frisk uses ‘lover’, but…”

They shake their head. “Oh, no, no. I do not think I would like that one for myself. Frisk is very much a lover in the sense that they simply… love, without a lot of difficulty. They fall in love quickly, they love effortlessly, and that is… not how I think of myself.”

You give them a nod as best you can without looking directly at them. “Yeah… that makes sense, I guess. How about, um… y-you like formal things, so… I dunno, ‘significant other’?”

“Aah, that is… quite a mouthful, though.”

You laugh. They’re worried about their label in a romance being a mouthful? With the loquacious way they speak? “I… yeah, kinda, but if that’s what you’d wanna be called, I-I’d use it.”

“No, no, no… that is too, mmh ― clinical.” When you manage to look over at them, they’re giving that smiley-pout they do sometimes. Cute. “I must confess, I should be more knowledgeable about gender-neutral terms… but in a romantic context, I have never truly had much need for them. Surely there must be more than those two? How about, ah… ‘paramour’?”

Though with that, they almost immediately wrinkle their nose in uncertainty. “Oh, God, no. It sounded lovely in my head, but out loud… it is much too Victorian even for my tastes. Hmm. Do you know any other ones?”

While you continue to sway with them in your arms, you rack your brain for any other descriptions you know that aren’t gender-specific or anything. “Ummm… I know people use ‘spouse’, but that’s, like, kinda for… married people.”

“Ahaha… yes, well, that is true. Although Asriel called me as such in one of his jokes during Gyftmas… he was drunk. We give drunk Asriel words no weight.”

“Pff… p-probably a good idea.” You play with their hair for another several seconds, then as soon as a new possibility hits you, you slide your hand to their cheek in an attempt to return their gaze to you. “Hey, wait… what about ‘partner’?”

The gesture works, because their attention is back on you in a heartbeat. They’re all wide eyes and curious smile. “Oh, hm… ‘partner’. That one is… not bad. I like it better than the other options. After all, what is a romantic relationship ― or any relationship ― but a team effort? I believe ‘partner’ is what I would prefer to be called.”

Between you all that exists for a moment after that is the melody, with both of you filling the rest of the space with silence. You know they’re smart enough to recognize subtext, and you think that like usual, you’ll need to be the bold one It’s only fair since you brought it up.

However, in a twist, just as you’re getting ready to open your mouth, Chara speaks up softly.

“(Name)… this is not just a hypothetical conversation… is it?”

Before you can reply to that ― though you’d hope the wistful look on your face speaks for itself ― suddenly the two of you are bombarded by Asriel, Frisk, Serena, and Wen. Despite that you aren’t overly familiar with Frisk’s lovers, you’re glad the two of them press in against you rather than Chara.

“Look at these two lovebirds,” Asriel hums.

Frisk giggles. “Yeah, so lost in each other’s eyes, it’s like… they’re the only people in the room!”

“Like something out of a romance movie,” Wen chuckles.

Serena props her elbow up on your head. “Should I tell them or someone else wanna do the honors?”

It really only took a second of Asriel leaning in before Chara started smacking at his hands. If you’re not mistaken, the blush on their cheeks creeps out to fill the rest of their face in an instant. “Asriel! Frisk! Serena! Wen! May we help you or are you willfully antagonizing us for exactly no reason at all?”

“If we didn’t do that sometimes, we wouldn’t be your siblings,” Asriel grins. “You guys are distracted and probably didn’t notice, but the reception’s over. Everybody did one final pass to, y’know, hug and congratulate the happy couple, and now the royal family and their significant others are gonna lead them out to their cute little ‘Just Married’ limo.”

Frisk drapes themself over Chara’s shoulder. “And, (Naaaaaame), you get to join us! Even though you and Chara aren’t official, you’re totally close enough, so c’mon!”

It’s hard to argue when Serena and Wen are already tugging you to your feet, and Chara’s already up on theirs. You give Chara a pleading look, to which they offer a fake-exasperated eye roll and a nod, so you shift your eyes to Frisk. “Well, Frisk, actually…”

Immediately Frisk’s face lights up, and they can’t seem to decide whether to look at you, Chara, Asriel, or their partners. “Wait, you mean―? Oh, my God! Azzy! Our little Chara has a girlfriend!”

“Excuse me, Frisk, what do you mean, ‘little’? In case you need to be reminded, I am older than both of you!”

“Ooooooh, yeah? Maybe your growth spurts didn’t get that memo. But this is so exciting… Serena, Wen, do you guys have any more tissues? I’m gonna cry again!!”

“Chara!” You’re on your knees in an instant, as close as you think they’ll let you. “Chara, hey, hey, I’m here. Talk to me, okay?”

It sounds hard for them to speak, because what they manage to choke out is a raspy, “I-I saw him…! It was him, (Name)… he was so close… he is here…” More tears drip down their cheeks, landing on your hands as you reach for them. “I thought I was never going to s-see him again! But he’s here!”

They don’t fight you when you get nearer and pull them in, burying their face in your chest. The way they cling to you, it feels like they want to shut the whole world out. “I have been away for him for fifteen years being alive, nineteen being dead, and he is still hurting me!”

“Chara… f-fuck…” You hold them as close as you can without worrying that you’re going to break them. You can feel how much they’re struggling to breathe, and if they don’t calm down, you think they’re going to pass out right here in your arms.

Their tears dampen your clothes and skin, pressed in against you like they are. Their whole body is shaking, breaths scraping their throat as the air forces its way in through sharp, desperate gasps.

“I cannot do this,” they wail. When you put a hand in their hair, your fingertips come away bloody. They’re so anxious and in pain that they’re hurting themself more. Their panic has risen so much it’s preventing them from getting a normal breath in. “I-I cannot calm down!” They look up at you with this horrible, begging look in their eyes. “Help me, (Name)… p-please… please help me…!”

“Please!” they sob as they try in vain to wrench themself free. They’re only a little shorter than he is, as an adult, and perhaps fifty pounds lighter, but you know by now that appearance in the memories means nothing. Everything you’re seeing, with regard to him, happened when they were a child. Of course they don’t stand a chance against him.

“I will be better!” Though you don’t think they started out crying, tears are rolling down their face now. “Please, Daddy! I do not want to go down there! I am sorry! I will not do it again! I will be good! I promise!”

His face stands out more now. It’s almost similar to their face ― soft curves, without a lot of angles, looking younger than he likely is. His hair is a slightly lighter brown than theirs, and falls well past his shoulders. If you saw him on the street, you wouldn’t give him another glance. He looks normal.

Just like Chara’s clothing, his is all white. And you can see now that his clothing is a robe, with a hood attached that he doesn’t have over his head.

The black cloud of his aura moves through you again. Bile rises in your throat, and you swallow it back. It’s not as bad as it was when you were around him back in the physical world, at least, meaning it doesn’t stop you from moving.

You know what you did wrong this time.

It wasn’t a huge transgression. And an apology should lessen the punishment.

But he’s not listening.

He doesn’t want your apology; but what else could you do to make him stop?

As he drags Chara to an ominous-looking door, you realize that this isn’t the house you’ve seen in their previous cult memories. It’s some sort of abstract space in their mind, somewhere you can’t escape from by running to another room.

He’s stone-faced opening the door. His voice is just as soft as you remember, just as disturbing. “I’m sorry, too, Chara. Do you think I want to do this? It’s the only way you’ll learn. You don’t want to go down here? Then you will try harder to manifest your magic next time, and you will not talk back to me.”

“No! No, please, please, please!” Their screaming is breaking your heart. Even more than that, they actually try to run.

They manage to break away from their father, only to get three steps before he picks them up. He’s not messing with just their arm anymore; he takes them in his arms and holds an arm taut across their chest, the other grabbing their legs to prevent their kicking.

You think they may have been a little older when this happened, maybe seven or eight, simply because they’re trying to fight back rather than just accept that it’s going to happen.

Or maybe they’re younger, meaning they haven’t yet learned what kinds of horrible things happen when they do fight back.

Either way, much as they try, the cult leader still has them restrained. He’s bigger and stronger than they are and their effort means nothing to someone like him.

“Daddy!! No! No, no, please, Daddy, no! Please, please―!”

With one fluid motion, he opens the door, throws his child inside, and slams it shut.

He vanishes immediately, leaving you to stare in horror at the spot where he dissipated. You whirl around to face the door before attempting to open it. The knob won’t budge, though, so you start to pound on it.

Your fists beat with all the strength you can muster, so hard and fast your hands might be bruised when you go back to the real world. Tears sting your eyes, your entire being overcome with a cold dread. “Chara! CHARA!”

“H-help me! Please!” Their voice is muffled by the door. It sounds a million miles away, and it’s devolved into the voice you remember from their child self. “Help me! It’s s-so dark in here! I’m scared! Please, please, help me! Please!”

… But you can’t.

You frown when you get the delayed taste of the water Chara drank. It coats your mouth, bitter… bitter and sweet, like an artificial bubblegum flavoring covering something else.

Water shouldn’t have any taste, especially a taste like this.

It tastes like… weak medicine.

A glimpse into the glass tells you all you need to know, with a faint pink film clinging to the bottom and sides of it. Like there was something mixed into it that tinted and thickened the water.

… Like maybe a liquid antihistamine. Like maybe the kind which has MAY CAUSE DROWSINESS on the warning label.

Before your eyes, Chara practically collapses onto the table, arms splayed out in front of them, their cheek laying there as they face you. “Oh, God,” they murmur. Their eyes flutter, as if they’re trying to do battle with the sudden fatigue. “I want to take a nap.”

You set a hand on their back, and in response they give you a sort of hum-sigh. “Will you nap with me?” They look so tired, but they do have a smile now. “I think it would be better to sleep with someone else than by myself. Daddy is gone, so I am all alone… and so sleepy…”

“I-I dunno if I can nap with you… but… but I’ll stay. You’re not alone, okay? I’m here.” You try to keep your voice soft. It’s not easy; all you want to do is cry and scream about how unfair this is.

What, were they not defenseless enough for him by virtue of being a child?

He was capable of picking them up and locking them in a closet, yet he had to make them even more vulnerable by drugging them?

He told them before they couldn’t have medicine, when they were so sick they couldn’t breathe from coughing.

Now in this memory, when they didn’t need it, he slipped it to them so they would fall asleep.

You are so much easier to control this way.

You rub their back, and with every stroke they fade more and more back into a child. This time it shocks you how small they are. When did this memory happen? They couldn’t have been more than five, maybe six, in the memory where he denied them medicine.

You don’t think they can’t be more than three or four in this one.

Tears pool at the bottoms of your eyes as you take them in your arms. They’re practically dead weight now, almost fully asleep, slipping their tiny arms around your neck.

Why?

Why would someone do this to an innocent child?

How could anyone do this to an innocent child?

They’re just a little thing. Too small. Fragile.

Forget the morals of giving a child (or anyone under your care) medicine they don’t need just so you don’t have to take care of them.

Medication is dangerous, even non-prescription medication, as you saw from Chara’s overdose on cold medicine that they presumably bought over the counter.

If he’d given them too much of this medication, whether accidentally or on purpose, he could have killed them.

Carrying them feels like carrying a rock.

The only things which break the pale pattern are the multitude of bruises which decorate their skin, everywhere except for their face. Even there on their chest.

Those are the things you focus on, more than anything else. The bruises are in various stages of healing; some of them are fresh and red, some of them are amaranthine, black and blue, and some of them have drained away into sickly green and yellow.

They’re everywhere. Along Chara’s ankles, their wrists, thighs and forearms and waist and shoulders. Most of them aren’t big and there aren’t enough to make you think they were struck multiple times, over and over and over. But it’s still too many.

You note, with a nausea entirely unrelated to their father’s black aura, that many of them are fingerprint bruises… from being grabbed. The ones which aren’t fingerprint bruises are either longer, from being held and restrained, or big ones as if from single hits with a blunt object.

Dear God, is the only thing your mind can come up with. What the fuck did he do to them?

Poor Chara is trying to curl up into a ball, crying with only their voice and dried trails along both cheeks. Their breath shudders with every inhale, and they’re shivering violently. Every few seconds they tug at the chain that connects them to the bed. It’s in vain, of course.

When you gingerly touch their other hand, they flinch and look over at you. You can feel their mind pressing against you, trying to keep you from seeing this ― yet so frantic in the need to calm down that they’re showing you everything that’s going through their mind, even things they might not really be ready to show you.

Where is he? You’re so hungry.

How long has it been?

An intense hunger pang reverberates through you, and Chara whimpers in response to it, feeling the exact same thing.

You have been so bad.

You deserve this, don’t you?

They’re staring at you with desperation in their eyes, pleading with you to do something. It makes you feel so useless, because you don’t know what to do. You don’t even fully understand what’s going on.

“You do not have any food, do you?” they ask, and their voice is so feeble. They have circles under their eyes, chapped lips, and when another pang hits them, you don’t feel it as much as hear their stomach growling. Their face scrunches up in agony, the hunger crashing over them, relentlessly, as if it’s a series of waves pounding the shore of a beach. “I do not know when he is coming back…”

A story that’s eerily familiar to another memory and just as terrible starts to unfold in your mind.

Your CHECK is painting a picture for you. You hate what it’s telling you.

If he left you to die of hunger or cold, maybe he was right to do so.

You shouldn’t be alive in the first place, should you?

That message mortifies you. Is that really how they were thinking, even back then? How old are they in this memory?

You look over toward the door, then at Chara’s cuffed wrist. Maybe you can get that thing off…? They’re so thin, it might slip off with a little fiddling. “Is the door unlocked?”

They shake their head. “N-no, I… I do not think so? H-he always locks it.”

“I bet I could… get it open.” You move your hand down to the cuff and give it a tug. “Let’s… let’s try to get this off, a-and then we’ll go out and find you something to eat…”

“N-n-no!” They try to pull their hand away. The chain attached to the headboard rattles almost in a sync with another shiver wracking their body. “No, no, no… if he finds me out of the room and eating from the kitchen, th-things will be even worse!” They sniffle, and aside from their crying, you notice that both their cheeks and their nose are bright red due to the cold.

“This is m-my punishment… he knows best… I-I should listen and take it without complaint… e-even though it is uncomfortable… I m-m-must repent… without help…”

‘Uncomfortable’ would be sitting in a time-out chair for ten minutes, or losing dessert privileges for a few nights. And maybe as a real punishment, for something done wrong. You find it hard to believe that Chara did anything that warranted even an actual punishment, much less this.

Humiliation, restraints, starvation, and hypothermia are not uncomfortable punishments or repentance for wrongs, they’re torture tactics.

They ran away from all this eventually. Why are they so scared to try now? Now, when they’re in danger of freezing or starving to death?

Because they’re scared of him? Scared of what other punishments he might give them?

How much fucking worse could it get?!

Are these the memories they think about when they think of him? The ones that make them feel helpless and terrified? This is what’s running through their mind after seeing him?

Their need for control already made sense to you before.

Seeing all the ways control was taken from them in their early childhood, you can’t imagine how the desire to never lose it again doesn’t consume their every waking moment.

Maybe it does.

Maybe seeing him, knowing that he’s still alive and being less than ten feet away from him, made them think he’s going to take away what little control they’ve managed to cling to.

They lean in against you, clearly seeking comfort. “B-but… I know what I did wrong. I did not listen to him, and I tried t-to go outside while he was gone. Th-the village cannot tolerate my presence among them all… no one can… I-I am a curse. He has to k-keep me in here… I cannot be around o-other people, but I did not listen. I d-disobeyed him, and I must pray and r-repent and… and suffer to be forgiven…”

When they press their face into your shoulder, you feel them shrink back into a child as you hold them. They’re swallowed up by your jacket, both hands trembling at the front to keep it closed. You don’t think they particularly enjoy being seen like this; you don’t blame them. This kind of vulnerability, especially with regards to their past, is difficult for them, and they are incredibly vulnerable right now.

“I just don’t know why I must suffer in so many ways at once,” they cry. “Would one not be enough? And i-it’s been so long… when do I stop suffering? How do I know when it has been enough? Why d-does forgiveness require suffering, anyway? F-Father says this is how the gods want it to be… to s-suffer for forgiveness… but…”

Their breath hitches, more tears dampening your shoulder. “H-how do I believe in and respect something like that? Gods are all-powerful, are they not? W-why do they need my suffering? What k-kind of God would not simply accept me saying a prayer that I’m sorry and know that I am?”

You give their shoulder a careful rub, and run your fingers through their hair. They’re so little… is this perhaps why they have trouble gaining weight now? Because they weren’t always fed properly as a child? If this man starved them as punishment once, he did it more than once. It would make sense; people have difficulty growing even as adults if they aren’t well cared for during their formative years.

It breaks your heart to think, but maybe Chara’s right. The cult leader has been out of their life for so long and he’s still hurting them. Even when they’re ready to try healing, some of these scars might never go away.

Even though you don’t consider them weird or bad or think there’s really anything ‘wrong’ with them, they don’t have an easy time going about things with all this trauma on their shoulders. If life were a video game, their shitty excuse for a father has made sure they have to play it on hard mode.

It makes you angry, more than anything.

You are so selfish, and a heretic.

Demon child.

No wonder your mother killed herself after seeing what she brought into the world.

“I know,” they sigh, pressing their face into your shoulder. “I am just… I am so scared. I am so scared, all the time, about so many things, but this…”

They never truly thought this would happen.

Much as they thought about it, worried about it, they didn’t think he would ever actually come back.

“This is so bad,” they finish tearfully. “You felt it, did you not? The hatred in his heart? The incredible strength he possesses? We do not stand a chance against someone like him if he uses his full power! I do not want all the people I care about destroyed… but he could…”

The atmosphere is still so heavy, blue and purple pulling you down, down, like a ball and chain tied to your ankle, so strong it feels inescapable. They feel like they can’t fight this, don’t they? Like they have no choice.

Like they’re back to being a powerless child who can’t stop their father from doing anything ― hurting them, hurting others, leading a march of violence that will end with all monsters dead.

“― Well, well, welly, well, well! Look who has to come save everyone’s asses! Or maybe it’s just you two.”

Holy crap, you have never been so happy to hear that voice.

When you look over toward one of the windows, Flowey is peeking in, clearly having grown his stem from the soil outside. “Chara! Oh, thank God, Flowey’s here!”

Their brother is propping himself up on the window sill, tilting his head while looking in. “In the flesh, sugarbee! Or, y’know, whatever passes for flesh in a flower. Not usually the reaction I get, though. Guess you clowns must be desperate.”

“Are you… quite finished?” Although their voice is a bit thready, Chara still manages to speak up. “I-is everyone alright outside?”

A funny look flashes across Flowey’s face. “… Huh.” You think it’s been a while, if ever, since he’s heard Chara stammer like that. “Yeah, far as I can tell. The happy couple and their parents are locked up in the car, and everyone who did get hurt’s just about healed up.”

Then his face changes again, to a chilling grin. “But, boy… is Azzy pissed.”

“And you’re not?” you huff, pulling Chara closer against you. “Th-this shouldn’t have happened!”

“Yeah, no, no, I don’t like it any more than you guys do! Sheesh. I have a heart, y’know.” Flowey drums his leaves against the windowsill. “This is just angrier than I’ve seen Azzy in a loooong time. He usually doesn’t have the heart for it. But he’s giving you a run for your money right now, Chara. Then again, you’re too busy being scared to be angry at the moment, huh?”

They give him a hard, almost cold look. “Flowey, i-if you do not back off this subject right now… I will never forgive you.”

He quickly spreads his leaves out the same way a person would spread their hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fuck, I’m shutting my big mouth! You’re so touchy. Fine… I’ll let Azzy know he can come in. He just wasn’t sure if you’d wanna see him right now, Chara.”

“Of course I do,” they murmur. You can tell they’re still anxious and afraid and a million other things… but the fact that they’re speaking more normally is a good sign. Hopefully. They’re not just faking being okay; they’re trying very hard to calm down. “I just did not want him to see…”

Flowey scoffs. “You know, you could tell us shit, Chara! You didn’t want any of us seeing whatever you showed (Name). How come only she gets to see it? You can’t show all of us? We’re your family, dumbass!”

Chara’s face turns bright red, and the expression they give is the one that someone gives before they burst into angry tears. “J-just send Asriel and leave, please,” is all they say.

“… Whatever,” Flowey hisses. Although he looked stunned and almost hurt for a second, he’s focusing that into anger instead of anything else. Maybe because he knows that no matter what he says, Chara isn’t going to show him anything they showed you. Maybe because he knows he can’t express that he’s hurt without being hurtful himself.

Either way… “Your favorite brother will be here in like half a second, I’m sure! Enjoy your pity party of two, and if you ever decide you do wanna talk, don’t be surprised when I don’t listen!”

“Flowey!” For once, your voice is firm, your hand pressing against your partner’s head. “I know you’re mad, but that’s enough right now. Try again later.”

He gives you an absolutely wicked look before pulling himself off the window and falling down, probably to disappear back into the dirt.

With that you turn your attention back to Chara, cradling them against your chest. “It’s okay, Chara… Asriel’s coming.”

“Th… that was so horrible of me.” The anxiety has caught back up with them, it seems. They’ve started to cry again, though thankfully it lacks the wild, hyperventilating quality it had when you first found them. “W-why did I do that? Why did I tell him to leave?”

“B-because he started to get mean,” you assure them gently. “He was trying to… make you talk about stuff you’re… you’re not ready to talk about.”

“But he has a point.” Their hands are curled up into fists against their chest, and they make a feeble attempt to push against your chest. As if they already know they don’t want to leave, however, it’s nowhere near strong enough to extricate themself. “I have shared so many things with you that I swore I… I would never tell anyone. And if I shared them with anyone… should it not b-be my family first?”

“(Name)…” Chara mumbles. “I do not w-want to talk about… anything you saw. Not… not now.” From this angle, you can see big tears welling up in their eyes. “I cannot take it. I am a-ashamed that you saw those things.”

They shouldn’t be.

That’s so sad.

Their father hurt them so badly, and they shouldn’t feel ashamed to have someone know how much pain they’re holding inside.

They aren’t the one who did anything wrong.

God, if only you could hold them any closer. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” You keep your voice quiet. “But let me just… say one thing, okay? You remember when… when you said you were glad you saw the stuff I showed you? E-even though you didn’t like what I went through?”

“Yes…?”

“I’m glad I saw all the stuff I did just now.” You can hear footsteps coming down the hall, gentle but urgent. Good. Here comes my best friend. “You shouldn’t… have to hide it, like… like, you shouldn’t have to walk around keeping all this inside a-and it keeps hurting you because you feel like you can’t tell anyone and…”

You still have a hand on their head, so you carefully guide them to rest against your neck. To their part, they seem overwhelmingly fine with that.

“… He’s the one who should be ashamed, Chara. You are not what he did to you.” Fuck. You wish there was some way you could engrave that onto their entire being.

Maybe if you say it enough times, it will stay with them.

It feels like they fall apart in your arms again, letting out a shuddering breath. “(Name), please…”

He’s just as worked up as everyone else, even though he’s clearly trying hard to appear calm and in control. “Hey, (Name), you doing okay?”

“Y… yeah, I think so.” You’re not sure. He doesn’t need to hear that, though. You’re starting to feel a bit less anxious, so that’s enough. “What about you?”

With your eyes closed, focusing on the energy of his SOUL, you can kind of get a feel for how he’s doing. Like everybody, he’s doing his best not to freak out. He sighs, however, a puff of air on the side of your head as he pulls away a little. “I’m… dealing. Thanks for everything; you’re a big help in all the chaos.”

You give him a gentle squeeze in return. “How’s everybody else? Fuku and Grillby are okay, right? And everyone that got hit by the attack?”

“Ah, yeah… I think Fuku’s a little shaken up, but everybody’s gonna be fine. That attack… man…” He shakes his head, drawing his arms away from you. “It was water, so it would have extinguished Fuku and Grillby’s flames… but it was hot water. If the whole attack had gotten dumped on Chilleen… it would have melted her the same way it would have extinguished Fuku or Grillby. And it was enough to give the rest of us burns. Not to mention…” A clawed hand runs down his face as he lets out a deep breath. “Dumb question, but remember when you got shot?”

Almost as if on cue, your shoulder aches a bit. Even though the injury happened six months ago and has been fully healed for at least three, it still acts up sometimes. “Y… yeah.”

He rubs a hand over his forehead. “Remember when you woke up in the hospital, and I told you that whoever fired the shot used magic that repelled healing? That water attack… it did the same thing. Mom, Dad, and I had to work hard to get everyone healed. We might have done it, but the pain’s still kinda here despite that there’s no more actual physical injuries. This guy did his homework and thought of every detail.”

You sort of understood the information earlier, when you came face to face with the cult leader and inside Chara’s mind. Now that all the anxiety is coming down and Asriel is spelling it out like that, it hits you like a truck.

Their father is the same one who launched the attack on the press conference. He’s the one who tried to kill Asriel and ended up shooting you.

More tears well up in your eyes. You feel so guilty. If that man had wanted to kidnap Chara, he would have easily been able to do it while you were incapacitated by his LOVE.

You don’t understand how no one else could feel it. Didn’t everyone tell you before that humans who can do full magic like you are super susceptible to violent intent? Why couldn’t Frisk feel it too? They’re even more powerful than you are.

“Chara wouldn’t have been able to… since they’re not capable of magic.” Asriel sighs, leaning back on the couch. “And Frisk… Frisk’s never been able to feel that stuff before being attacked. Any attack by someone with a high LV would hurt them more than it would another human without magic, but… they can’t tell who has a high LV. They could while they had CHECK as a side power in the Underground… not anymore, though.”

He rubs a hand over his face, and suddenly, he doesn’t look like the youngest Dreemurr sibling anymore. If you didn’t know any of their ages, you’d think he was the oldest. “It might be something to do with your magic. Or this specific guy. I… I don’t know, (Name).” When he moves his hand down, you notice that he looks overwhelmed.

He’s had to deal with a lot in the last year. His first press conference ending in an assassination attempt, where he or his siblings could have been killed and you ended up getting hurt. Chara’s accidental overdose and suicide watch. And now this, a concerted effort at killing a wedding full of monsters and humans, many of whom he’s close to.

Not only all that, there’s the day-to-day stress of being king of monsterkind, having the whole weight of an entire community on his shoulders.

No wonder he’s two energy drink withdrawals away from cracking under the pressure and sobbing about how everything’s gone to hell since he became king.

“I don’t know anything. I don’t have all the answers.” His voice falters with the admission as he pushes himself to straighten up. “I wish I did, I pretend like I do, but I don’t. I don’t know how to keep my people safe, I don’t know how to get my big sibling to talk to us about stuff that’s hurting them, I… I don’t…”

With that, he buries his face in his hands. “I don’t know how to be a good little brother, or a good friend, or a good king.” When he tries to breathe, his whole self shudders. You can feel his SOUL this close, glittering like a rainbow prism like you always see it… but in the worst way possible. It’s erratic, too manic, like he just can’t calm down.

Like he’s trying to be too many things for too many people, and just like Chara, he hasn’t let anyone know how much he’s struggling.

“Dad said it would get easier,” he sniffles, “but instead, everything just keeps getting harder. I act like I’ve got everything together, but, I’m a mess. I… I’m so afraid, (Name).”

It hits them like a truck.

They knew Asriel was a crybaby as a child… they teased him about it, even. They may have even manipulated that trait of his. (To their great regret, obviously.)

Ever since the two of them grew up, however, they can count on one hand the times they’ve seen him cry. They haven’t witnessed a single tear or crack in his resolve since he became king.

It sounds as if it’s been taking its toll more than anyone realized… simply because he was holding it all inside. Because he didn’t want any of them to know just how bad it had gotten.

Something twists inside Chara’s chest when they see you reach over to hug Asriel, and when they see the way that their baby brother crumples into your touch. Not only does it remind them of the way they themself act when you comfort them, it also kicks their protective instincts into overdrive even though they’re exhausted.

They’re the oldest for a reason, aren’t they? It shouldn’t fall to you to comfort everyone, especially when Chara knows you’ve overworked yourself. Even if you want to.

This day has been a challenge for everyone. Chara feels like their worst nightmare is coming into being. Their biggest fear transitioning from a silly thing that could never happen to something tangible that’s come right to their doorstep.

Maybe bad things are going to happen. Maybe the world is in danger because of that man’s power, or maybe he will return to hurt them or try to hurt their family.

That future, the only one they see right now, is terrifying.

But they cannot let it steal the present. Not from them or from anyone else.

They have their own well of DETERMINATION to draw from.

That man is not going to get the better of them. Not while he isn’t actually here. He will not stop them from helping their family and their girlfriend.

They might be scared and in the haze of some post-traumatic stress aftermath. Their hands might still be shaking. They might still feel weak and worthless. They might still be in pain.

Your words and the echo of everything their family has done for them spur them forward, though. I will not let him prevent me from being there for the people I care about.

He caused me so much pain. He ignored me while I was suffering. He did not care.

I care. I would rather die than ignore Asriel and (Name)’s suffering.

I would rather die than be like him.

Even if Chara doesn’t know who they are other than a violently angry, misanthropic, distrustful person… at least they know who they are not.

Asriel tries to blink the tears away, rubbing at his face like he doesn’t want them to see him like this. In some ways, they think he’s overcompensating for not wanting to be the child he used to be, so paralyzed with fear that all he could do was cry. He might even be remembering the way that Chara knew exactly how to use that fear… it makes them sick, how they can see the parallels between themself and their brother.

It’s another thing they both do, they think. A family trait ― thinking some vulnerability shown will be weaponized and used to hurt them. It’s to the extreme with Chara that they think any vulnerability is a bullet in someone’s gun, unless they’ve gotten close to someone. In Asriel’s case, it’s crying, and Chara truly could kick themself for the fact that their actions when the two of them were young potentially exacerbated it.

Well, as they have done every time they’ve seen Asriel cry, they plan to seek whatever redemption is there for what they did as a child.

“You may be afraid, Asriel. But… you are not alone.”

The way the weight comes falling off his shoulders is palpable to both Chara and you. At least, they think you can feel it too. How can you not? Something just snaps, and suddenly Asriel is leaning against their shoulder. It’s not really the kind of intense sobbing that they often do when they cry; all the same, it’s undeniable that, yes, he is crying into their shoulder.

Gingerly, they move their arm away from you so that they can put both arms around Asriel. As if it’s some kind of cycle of comfort, in turn you carefully slip your arms around their waist. (The urge to ask you if you’re trying to monitor their weight crosses their mind. Ultimately, however, they decide it would ruin the moment they’ve tried so hard to make Asriel comfortable inside of.)

Instead of anything else, they just relax. Everything is not okay, but it is okay.

They’ve definitely got a fierce protective streak with regard to their family, but this is the first time in a while that they’ve really felt like a big sibling. No anger, no threatening other people who get close. Just… being there for their little brother. They’d almost forgotten how fulfilling it is to be a force of comfort rather than a force of vengeance.

And… there you are, nestled against them from behind, with your cheek resting against their back between their shoulder blades.

Asriel pressing in against them for support is a quiet reminder of, You’ve become a really, really great big sibling.

The presence of you at their back, somehow being both being comforted by them and being a source of comfort yourself, whispers, And you’re starting off as a pretty good partner, too.

#child abuse tw #suicide tw #suicidal ideation tw #ptsd tw #my favoritest pastime ! ( BELLUM WRITES. )#what's up‚ buttercup ? ( CHARA. )#wimpy loser with a big heart. ( FRISK. )#I always was a crybaby ; wasn’t I ? ( ASRIEL. )#(( with the exception of memories shown they're adults in all this #it's just when Reader goes into Chara's memories that she sees them as a child #ANYWAY THIS IS BOTH HORRIFIC AND HEARTWARMING #WE'VE GOT LORE ! WE'VE GOT ANGST ! WE'VE GOT HURT / COMFORT !#STEP RIGHT UP STEP RIGHT UP I'VE FIGURED OUT SO MUCH OF MY CHARACTERIZATION OF CHARA BY WRITING THIS FIC #............... it's a lot tho even tho it's maybe 1 / 10th of the full fic dfjakfjklsa #I'M JUST GONNA GENTLY SET IT DOWN HERE AND LET Y'ALL LOOK AT IT AT YOUR OWN LEISURE ))

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