Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sans is already sitting at the table when Frisk looms over the top of the stairs, slowly treading down the steps. This is a surprise to everyone, including himself, seeing how he barely lifts himself out of his bed until 5 minutes before an event where he'll just magically appear behind one of his friends.

Or something. Frisk shrugs as they pull up a chair sitting across from Sans. "Hey, Pops. Are you still mad?"

Sans stares at the child before taking a huge exhale through his nose. "I guess not. Lecturing you won't do any good, it'll go in one ear and straight out the other. Figures," he smiles in his ever-stagnant expression, "You take after your old man, after all."

"You're not that old."

"Nah, you're right. With these good looks, I might as well be 19," the skeleton grins, running his bony fingers across the side of his skull. Frisk lets out a hollow laugh.

"What happened last night?"

The question is like poison—if Sans didn't know any better, he'd think Frisk was pretending not to hear. They maintain their blank stare, the only sign of emotion or faltering resolve being how slightly they lower their head, if only by a centimeter.

"I had an episode," Frisk deadpans. The skeleton leans forward with his torso pressed against the dining table. "Then Clover brought me home and you got worried."

A beat of silence before Frisk continues, "I made you…worry."

"What?" Sans shows his bewilderment before laughing, a familiar motion over the years that moves his shoulders up and down, puffing out his chest. "Kid, that's what you're focusing on? I said it's fine—"

"But when's the last time you can say that?!" Frisk hollers, nearly standing up from their seat, the only thing stopping them being an incredible amount of force locking their feet in place. Frisk grits, "We don't know if the next time this happens you'll be here with us the next day!"

Sans has always been fragile. Frisk knows this. Papyrus knows this. Everyone who has ever had an encounter with Sans knows this. Everyone, apparently, but himself.

Sans reaches out to put his gloved hands on Frisk's fragile joints. "Hey, c'mon. I'm tough. I'm not gonna break. 'sides, I got you and Paps protecting me. You got my back, always. Don't you trust your ol' pops?"

Frisk settles, their chest heaving in and out, hyperaware of the distant whirr of the kitchen when they take Sans' hands into theirs. "Promise me, then."

"What?"

"Promise me. Promise me that, no matter what happens, you have to hold out until me and Paps are both at your side."

"Kid, I-" Sans shifts, looking to the side. "Neither of us really does promises."

Frisk grips his hands tighter. "Please."

A long moment passes until Sans squeezes their hand bank. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I pro-"

Riii—ing.

With their body continuously held down, Frisk doesn't quite get the chance to react before Papyrus scrambles down the stairs frantically, hollering with clothes still thrown over his shoulders, "I'll get it!"

Both Frisk and Sans' eyes trail, following Papyrus almost sprinting to the door and pulling it wide open. He puts his hand on his hip, "This is the Great Papyrus speaking! How can I make your day absolutely amazing?" Then he glances downwards to see a much shorter Clover, who grins up at him. "Oh, small cowboy, there you are! Come in, come in!"

"Hehe, thanks," Clover grins cheekily, rubbing their shoulders. "Sorry to intrude, I just wanted to visit."

"That's no problem at all, I assure you! And I've been meaning to thank you for taking care of Junior Bones! But now that you're here," Papyrus ushers Clover into the house, shutting the door closed and pulling the hangers off of his shoulders. "…Help a skeleton out here! On one hand, I could wear my special Cool Dude outfit, which I have flaunted many a time… Or my Demon Papyrus outfit, reserved for only the most elusive of occasions!"

Clover wedges his chin in between their thumb and index finger. "Gee, I'm not sure… They both look pretty amazing!"

"Right?!"

"Paps, you haven't worn the demon fit in ages," Sans comments, his finger twitching. With this, Frisk's anchor finally lets up, who almost immediately rises to their feet. "I think last time was the last Halloween costume party we went to since… a while."

Papyrus nearly drops the outfits trying to place his hand to his chest. "I'll have you know I emulate Demon Papyrus nothing less than 120% of the time! And besides…" Papyrus awkwardly looks off to the side before speeding through the rest of his sentence, "I have a hot date tonight so I simply must look my absolute best and dress to impress so I would really love your genuine opinion please."

The Cool Guy outfit was, obviously, a tank top saying COOL DUDE, a baseball cap, neon blue shorts and a stolen pair of Sans' old sneakers. Papyrus' other arm held the Demon Papyrus outfit, a black leather jacket and black star pants, both accented with gold, and a longer cape alternative of the signature Papyrus red scarf.

"Alright, I say pull off that one then!" Clover chimes in, beaming. "I love the black, it brings out your bones."

"You really think so?" Papyrus grins wide. "Gee, if you say so! I'll keep that in mind, young cowboy."

"So you really came here just to visit?" Frisk asks, catching Clover's attention with a sad stare.

Clover bites the inside of their cheek. "No. No, I wanted to ask you something."

"I figured," Frisk comments dryly, pushing their chair in and crossing their arms behind their back.

"Hey, I-" Clover is about to snap snarkily, but they restrain themselves, nodding. "Apparently no one's seen Chara or Asriel all day yesterday. I think they may be missing, but I didn't wanna start investigating before I got your input."

All three of them turn sharply towards Clover. Frisk takes a step forward, a little panicked. "Like- Missing missing? Have you asked Asgore? Or-"

"I did," Clover nods, "'fore I could ask anything, he thought Chara spent the day with me yesterday, so I didn't pry no further. Thought you might've known something 'bout it."

Frisk frowns, folding their fingers together. "I… I guess Asriel was kind of acting weird a few days ago."

"Weird how?"

"I-" Frisk clamps their lips shut, as if remembering something they shouldn't speak about. "…Just avoidant. Wouldn't look me in the eye. Among other things."

"Vague, ain't'cha?"

"Well, if you kids are gonna go searching," Sans chimes in, leaning back in his chair, tilting his skull away, "I bet you Tori would know something about it, yeah? Why not check with her? And if push comes to shove, tell ol' Gorey the truth."

Frisk almost immediately grimaces. "Don't call him that." They are met by a weird look from Sans, who can't quite pinpoint something.

"I agree!" Papyrus proclaims. "If anyone can locate the little majesties, surely it is the two older majesties! You'll have much luck there!"

"Okay. Okay, you wanna go?" Clover extends their arm out, giving Frisk a stern look that didn't match their voice at all.

"I-" Frisk closes their mouth. "Okay. Yeah, let's go find them. Thanks, Pops, thanks Paps!"

"No problem! Please call if you need anything!" Papyrus makes his way towards the staircase up to the bedrooms as Frisk and Clover rush out the door quickly, slamming it closed.

Once the door clicks shut, Sans lifts his head up. "Guess it is true, then."

"What is?" Papyrus hollers from the bottom of the staircase.

Sans blinks, surprised at the fact that Papyrus' keen hearing slipped his mind. It shouldn't have slipped his mind. "Nothing, Paps."

"No, really, Sans, what is it?"

"I was just thinking of this old phrase I read once. That there's always going to be someone who'll miss you."

-`♡´-

Frisk leads Clover by the wrist as they pace down the streets, heading towards Toriel's house. It isn't a long walk—after all, the town is only so big, so someone could go around and knock on every house and still be home in time for breakfast.

"You can let go now," Clover remarks, to which their friend immediately retracts their grip.

"Sorry," Frisk responds as they continue down the sidewalk.

Frisk grips their arms tightly, opening an eye to take a good look at Clover. "I have to tell you—"

"Why is Toriel's door open?" Clover frowns, pointing at the elevated porch. Sure enough, the front door was wide open, and the sounds of a modern record player came out from inside.

Immediately, Frisk scans the area, nervously picking at their shirt collar. "I don't know. Nothing looks out of place…"

"Something might've happened," Clover picks up the pace, dashing inside with Frisk following shortly after. "Toriel? Miss Toriel, are you here?"

"Ah, Clover!"

"Miss Toriel?"

"Over here!" The old lady crows from the kitchen, westwards of the staircase, the first thing they see and look up when they enter the house. Going towards the kitchen, Frisk and Clover spot Toriel, who has her hands buried in the sink—washing one too many dishes for one person to handle. "And Frisk! What good news. Children, do you think you could let my son down from his chair? I simply don't have the hands right now and he's still too scared, hehe."

"Oh, is…" Clover sighs a long breath of relief. "Asriel's here?"

"What? Ahaha… No, if Asriel still had to use a high chair, I'd be telling the entire town! I meant Togore."

Slowly, Frisk and Clover both turn their heads to the dining table. On a toddler kitchen chair sits a small white goat monster, a little large for the chair itself. The monster has a bit of a longer face and sharp blue-and-yellow eyes, but the resemblance is uncanny.

A much younger, much smaller Asriel.

"Togore," Frisk quickly chokes out, chiming brightly by the back end of the unfamiliar name. "C'mon, let's get you out of there!"

"Um, wh- I-" Clover stammers for a bit, teetering back and forth when his eyes catch on Frisk lifting Togore out of the high chair, turning their head towards Clover, mouthing a firm Don't.

Their throat feels dry. "Um… Miss Toriel, what happened?"

"What happened?" Toriel hums, a bit more confused than Clover. "Oh! Well, Asriel and Chara are still at Gorey's place! That's what I presume you mean to say?"

"…Asgore?" Frisk speaks up, putting Togore back down on the ground before taking a peek at their phone. Countless missed texts and calls to Asriel and Chara still go unanswered. "They're at Asgore's?"

"They should be…" The old goat wipes her hands off at the towel rack. "Oh, but speaking of… Could I ask a tall request of you two? I simply must take off to the school in a half hour and it would mean wonders to me if you could watch over Togore until my husband can pick him up!"

Clover takes an uncomfortably long look at Togore then back at Toriel. "I mean, we kind of— Sorry, husband?"

"Oh, you will?" Toriel claps her hands together harmoniously. "That's wonderful news! Luckily I already have his baby basket prepared if you need anything, he is also very well behaved out on the town as you might remember, I hope you kids have fun!"

And all of a sudden, Frisk and Clover are walking out of Toriel's house with Togore and his essentials in hand.

"I hate overwrites," Frisk grimaces. "I hate overwrites so bad."

Clover jerks their head towards Frisk. "Overwrites? That's what you were talking about? Really? I kind of imagined, sorta…" They wave their hand towards Togore. "Not… this?"

Frisk pats Togore's head, who does not change his expression much at all. "Hey, don't… He's still just a kid—F-A-K-E or not," Frisk says, emphasizing each letter with a slight whisper.

The cowboy frowns. "Sure. Yeah. Should we even be…talking about this in front of him?"

"Hm. I have an idea!" As they reach the curb near the street, Frisk grasps Togore's shoulders, going down on their knees. "Hi, Togore. Do you know me?"

Togore nods. "Hi, Frisky."

"I-" Frisk chuckles. "Okay. Yeah, it's me, Frisky, and that's Clover, right?"

Togore points at where his eyes trail, once at Frisk, "Uncle Frisky," and then once at Clover. "Auntie Cloves."

Clover gulps, a twinge of a smile appearing on his face.

Frisk nods. "Yeah, we got you. Hey, what do you say we play a game? It's going to take a long time, like… More than a few days long! Is that okay?"

Togore nods, his feet shuffling side to side. Frisk lets go of his shoulders, noticing the goat's anxiety.

"Okay, that's good. Wanna see something cool?" Frisk watches Togore's expression carefully, watching how his eyebrows raise slightly when Frisk opens one of their eyes fully. "Cool, right?"

Togore opens his mouth slightly, examining the bright glowing cyan in Frisk's eyes. "Mhm. Cool."

"Yeah, cool. So how this game works is that, whenever you see this eye open, the three of us are having 'Secret Time'. This means whatever we talk to each other about, we can't tell anyone else. Not your brother, not your parents—"

Frisk stops, feeling Clover and Togore's eyes linger on them intensely. "…And especially not Chara. Can you do that for me?"

"Ok," Togore notes curtly. "Secret time. I got it."

"Thanks, buddy." Frisk rises to their feet, a bright smile on their face to match their eye. "Wanna keep walking?"

Togore nods, and holds onto Frisk's hand with Clover trailing slightly behind. "Okay. Then… Tell me about your… magic? What's going on there?"

"Will you tell me how you remember before the overwrites now?" Frisk turns their head towards Clover. "You've never remembered before."

"I don't know," Clover shrugs. "Maybe it's because of last night?"

"Last night?"

"Yeah, when you… told me everything. Maybe whatever's happening here is making an exception for me because of the fact that I know about all your baggage now…" Clover opens their palm, staring at the empty space, "But other than that, I'm not too sure…"

"It could also be because of your soul trait in addition," Frisk comments dryly.

"Whatddya mean?"

"Well—" They pause. "You have a strong sense of justice, after all."

Clover frowns, reaching for Frisk's arm. "Hey-"

"HEY, HEY, HEY!"

The three look up when they turn the corner, bombarded by three particularly eccentric mugs. Clover particularly perks up, a smile growing on their face.

"Hey, it's Rephil, Toast, and Swig!"

"Hey, is that Clover?" The middle monster, likely the leader, exclaims. "The ambassador and the Dreemurrs' youngest too, well! What brings y'all out today?"

Clover clenches his jaw before coming up with a response. "We're on babysitting duty, and tryna' investigate something."

"Aw, that's real nice," Toast shoots a grin towards Togore, who ducks behind Frisk's leg. "What would you happen to be investigating?"

Frisk pats Togore's head before questioning, "Have you guys seen Chara or Asriel in the last 24 hours?"

"I'm afraid not, kid," Rephil frowns. "Why? Did something happen?"

Clover waves their hands around nervously. "We just haven't seen them in a day or so and they've kinda gone socially MIA! I'm sure they're just goofin' around somewhere and their phones died, no biggie."

"I sure hope that's the case. In our case, we best be off! Isn't that right, boys?" The other two monsters give affirmative grunts in unison and the three perform a strangely flashy set of poses. "We've got Shuffler stuff to do. I wish you kids the best of luck on your babysitting and your search, yeah?"

Clover tips their hat off to the group and Frisk waves them off as they hop away past them and down the street, likely towards the train station.

"Okay," Frisk exhales. "Should be—"

"I saw your eyes glow when we were talking to them," Clover states plainly. "What's up with that?"

Frisk stands up straight. Something complex flashes over their face. Togore shuffles in place.

"My magic," Frisk murmurs. "I use it like this sometimes. I just wanted to make them calmer, so they didn't get too worried or ask too many questions."

Clover's stomach doesn't settle. "And how does that stuff work, exactly? I mean, up 'til now, I was thinkin' you couldn't use it."

"I don't use it like you or Asriel do. I definitely can use it for self defense or environmental stuff, but I find myself using it to tweak…emotions. It kind of only works if I myself don't feel any extreme emotions, or the severity of my magic increases."

"Mm," Clover hums affirmingly. "That's kinda sorta manipulative, Frisk."

"I—" Frisk stammers, balling up their fist. "It's not like I use it on a day-to-day basis!"

"Pardon me? You said—"

"I know what I said!" They exclaim. "I meant that I use it sparingly but when I do use it, it's mostly if not always used for influence—"

"Just because you don't do it often," Clover's voice booms, "Doesn't mean it's not bad."

Frisk bites their lip and opens their mouth to say something, but Togore tugs on their sleeve first.

Both older kids look down at the toddler shamefully. They definitely forgot he was here.

"Yeah? What's up, buddy?" Frisk smiles innocently.

"Keep walking?" Togore asks.

Eventually, the trio makes their way to the town park, where Frisk and Clover sit down at the bench in uncomfortable silence.

It's a wonderful day outside, Frisk notes when rising their head to the sky. Birds chirping, flowers blooming…

Wonderful day for an outdoor nap.

They shut their eyes. Clover notices, and doesn't comment on the way their mouth hangs when their head falls back.

They do snicker about it, though.

Clover turns their head towards the fountain in the center of the park, where Togore sits at the eastern point of it, dipping his fingers into the glistening waters.

He really looks carefree, Clover notes. From his little blank wondrous stare and sensory exploration to the two unfamiliar teens walking up to him…

Clover shoots up to a standing position abruptly, scaring Frisk in the process. "Oh, shit, stranger danger," he murmurs before dashing towards the small group.

Togore gestures to them when they pull over, "I'm with Auntie Clover."

The two new faces turn to Clover. One of them is a tall deer monster, with a stature much like December Holiday, whom Clover prominently remembers as their athletic rival for nearly all of high school. She's dressed rather cutely in light colors, in strong contrast to the one beside her.

They are unmistakably human, and wear a rather unflattering forest green hoodie coupled with another dirty black hoodie wrapped around their waist. They raise a weak hand to Clover, signifying a greeting.

"Hello, Clover," the girl smiles along, obviously quite more extroverted than her companion.

Clover awkwardly shuffles right next to Togore, kneeling down.. "Um, hey. Sorry, do I know you?"

"Oh," She nervously shrinks in on herself, like a shy child would around unfamiliar family members. Ah. "We're, um… I'm Noelle… this is Kris…"

"Noelle," the human says when pointing to their friend. They then point to themselves. "Kris. We're Susie's friends. She's Dess' sister. We greet you in the hallways at school."

Clover wants to face palm. They greet so many people in the school hallways! But come to think of it, Clover's seen these two around December once or twice. Yeah, that sounds right.

"Oh, sorry, must've, uh, slipped my mind. Yeah, I remember you. Were you saying hi to Togore?"

"It's not exactly— Well, he was halfway about to fall into the water," Noelle states worryingly.

Clover grimaces. It can't have been that long since they've taken care of a younger sibling.

"Hey," Frisk's voice hovers over them. Clover looks up and around, met with their exhausted gaze. They can see a faint blue glow emanating from their left eye. "Are you saying hi to the Holidays, Togore?"

Togore nods when Frisk makes a motion to pat his shoulder, without actually making physical contact at any point. He adds an affirmative grunt.

Clover looks back at the two. Noelle and Kris Holiday. That definitely seems like something they'd remember.

The cowboy looks up at the ambassador. They quietly shake their head at him, pressing their lips into a thin line.

Right.

Clover rises to his feet and lets Frisk talk their way around the two kids. Despite the first initial look, Frisk looks practiced, familiar with talking to strangers as if they've known each other their entire lives.

It's kind of sad.

"That sounds fun. Doesn't it, Clover?" Frisk turns to their companion, who evidently misses the memo. Frisk saves him from the embarrassment and adds on, "Wanna go shopping downtown?"

Clover is quiet for a second, looking them in the eye. Then they flash a cheeky grin, beaming. "Yeah, alright! Why the heck not?"

Frisk blinks as their friend chuckles brightly, taking Togore in hand and following the younger teens around the corner.

"Coming, Frisk?" Clover smiles, a little snidely.

Frisk lowers their head when nodding, trailing a little ways behind.

It's getting increasingly easier for Clover to read Frisk's carefully crafted expressions.

.ೃ࿔ ⌂*:･

"You guys go get what you want," Frisk tells the younger group of three when they reach the merchandise store. "I'll cover it. But don't get, like…too much?" They chuckle.

"Okay!" Says Noelle, and she drags along Togore and Kris into the other end of the store while Frisk and Clover stay behind near the front of the entrance.

"They're real young," Clover notes as Frisk comes next to them at the window seat, tipping their hat up. "The Holidays, I mean. They're just about Susie's age. A little older than Kanako, maybe."

"Kanako hasn't exactly been aging either," Frisk comments before seeing the twinge in Clover's face. "Sorry."

"It's fine," they respond, their accent picking back up, though Frisk barely even noticed the drop. "I've been seein' her more recently. Kanako, she's doin' alright. That amalgamate's got a lot of kind monsters shoved into one, and they get along swell with each other. Ceroba can… agree to disagree, heh."

"Mm. That's good, then," Frisk hums, tapping their index finger on their lips. "Yeah, I saw you around with her last week, didn't I? You were showing off that new dress of yours."

Clover blinks. "You… did?"

"Mhm. I was over by Starlo's ranch on business," They nod. Then they turn their body partly towards Clover with a teasing smile, "You look good in white frills."

Clover's shoulders shrug upwards and they clear their throat. "Um," the cowboy struggles, "Thank you. That's…very nice of you to say."

Frisk tilts their head at Clover's awkwardness until a realization hits their face.

"Ah—Um, I didn't mean it like that, uh, I—" Frisk stammers, fidgeting with the cuffs of their sleeves. "No, I meant to say… um…"

Clover lets their mouth open and close in confusion. Eventually, Frisk settles, putting their palms up.

"I meant that you look really nice in more feminine clothes, no? You look happy. More like yourself."

"More like myself," Clover scoffs, leaning back against the table. "Is that the magic talking or are you just gassing me up?"

"Neither!" Frisk exclaims almost defensively. Putting their hand on their chest, they continue, "It's my natural charm."

"Right."

"Is every other conversation we have from now on going to be you suspicious of me using magic?"

"I'm just trying to see if I can trust you."

If they didn't know any better, Clover would say that Frisk shrinks in on themselves. Frisk speaks up again, "I don't know. Can you?"

"Frisk…" Clover sighs, putting their hand on Frisk's forearm. "We used to be close. We used to be friends. When was the last time we were friends?" Clover watches the shorter human's expression shift. Then, they add, "When was the last time you had friends?"

"I have friends," Frisk grits. "I have— Asriel, and Susie, and I'm surrounded by people all the time—"

"Friends," Clover emphasizes, "who you spend time with just because you want to. Not out of obligation, not to make sure nothing goes wrong, not because you have to—but because they're your friends."

Frisk quiets, bumping their shoulder against Clover's. "I'm getting mixed signals here. Are you worried about me or are you trying to make sure I'm not up to no good?"

"I dunno," Clover shrugs, squeezing Frisk's other shoulder. "I'll get back to you on that one."

"Okay, alright, fine," Frisk wiggles out of the cowboy's grasp and looks around, their eyes locking on the front desk. "C'mon, we should probably get something for Togore!"

"Alrighty," Clover whistles, trailing behind Frisk as they rest their arm on the counter.

"Hey, Miss Kacie," Frisk greets with a smile to the person working the register. She looks up and smiles at them.

"Hey, if it isn't the ambassador. You want me to get your brother's tab for you?" She says, reaching under the desk.

"If you don't mind," Frisk nods. "But also, got any recommendations to get your nephew to like you better?"

"I've got a few suggestions for a hot case of bad-with-kids," The clerk taps the desk impatiently, looking towards the plush showcase. "We have the Toothpaste Boy lineup."

Clover and Frisk both turn their heads in tandem to stare at the oddly remarkable black goat monster plush toys wearing green witch hats and robes. The stamp on the box says MTT Approved! Of course.

Frisk sighs, taking out their lucky pen. "Yeah, go ahead and put that on Papyrus' tab too."

The clerk smiles. Kacie, Clover remembers Frisk saying. They sure do know a lot of monsters. The monster in question slides a sheet of paper over to Frisk, on it a chart that was half-full with Sans and Frisk's signatures. Clover can tell because they've seen Frisk spend hours perfecting their signature for their politics debacles and, well, Sans' signature is just plain sans in perfect Comic Sans font.

"Who're you here with?"

"Oh, we're here with Toriel's youngest and December's younger siblings."

"Mm," Kacie nods. "I see them over in the corner looking at clothes and cosmetics. It'd be wise to keep an eye on them."

"Eh," Frisk waves their hand around aimlessly. "They're old enough to handle themselves and Togore. I'm just paying for them and being an unlicensed supervisor."

"I see. Does your friend over there want anything?" Kacie nods her head to gesture over to Clover.

"Hm…" Frisk hums. "Oh! If you still have those steampunk-themed cookies, I'm sure she'd love one."

Clover's head raises and turns to look at Frisk. Frisk's heart stops a little.

"Uh, um, I mean—" Frisk stammers, turning to look at Clover.

Upon closer inspection, they don't look angry or scared.

Just a little perplexed.

"…N-not the steampunk ones, those strange little cog-and-gear things, you know?"

"Those are the same things, Frisk," Kacie smiles before nodding and walking off. "Alright, you got it. I think we still have some in the freezer."

"You're the best!" Frisk hollers, watching Clover's head drop again with their arms crossed.

Clover quietly scoots closer to Frisk, bumping shoulders with them. Frisk faces the register counter and Clover faces away towards the open store.

For a long moment, they're nervous. They're quiet. They're content—until Frisk starts to snicker.

"Pfft, I—Oh my god. Clover."

"What?" Clover whispers, low and careful, very careful. Frisk wouldn't be the type to laugh at insecurity or faults, surely, and Clover keeps repeating this idea, never looking away from the ground.

"Th- The anom-" Frisk sheepishly tugs on Clover's poncho, giggling into their friend's shoulder. "Come here, look."

"What?" Clover sighs. "What's wrong with— No…"

"I'm… Pfft!" Frisk grins wide, pointing at the repetitive name written in print on the document, a notable surname attached to their own. "Frisk Femur…"

"I actually hate you," Clover scoffs lightheartedly, shoving Frisk aside. "That's enough of that."

"No, no, that's actually really— Haha, Clover, wait!"

A little ways away from the small scene, Togore sits on a stool placed right next to a clothing rack, swinging his legs. Noelle told him to stay put while she goes and finds Kris, who was probably out trying to blow up the toilets.

A shop worker comes up to him to start a conversation. Luckily, by living in a small town, no one teaches you that it's bad to talk to strangers because there are no strangers.

"You out here alone, Dreemurr?"

Togore shakes his head, looking up at the lady with wide eyes. She chuckles. "Who are you here with?"

Togore first points towards the restrooms. Seeing as no one appeared to be there, they then point in the direction of the register where Clover and Frisk bicker.

"Are those yer caretakers?" The shop worker puts a hand on her hip. "You should stay close to them, little guy. There's some real weirdos out there."

Togore nods curtly. "I know. Uncle Frisky and Auntie Cloves are just flirting right now…"

"Togore!?"

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

After Togore, Frisk and Clover wave Noelle and Kris off, they notice it's just about midday or afternoon. Toriel should be getting off of work by now.

Togore holds onto Frisk and Clover's hands as they take the path back home. They're bickering again, more lighthearted than before. Togore smiles a bit. He's glad.

All of a sudden, his peaceful childhood moment is ruined by the sharp ringtone. It's not unusually loud like his mom's or strange like Chara's, but it's alarming nonetheless. Oh hey, maybe that's why it's called an alarm.

Frisk digs into their shirt pocket, pulling out their cell. "Oh, it's your dad, Togore!" Togore beams excitedly.

"Put him on speaker," Clover suggests, squeezing Togore's hand when Frisk lets go.

The ringing stops, and replaced by it is Asgore's voice.

"Hello, Frisk?"

"Asgore," Frisk smiles. "Are you calling about Togore, or..?"

"Ah, my boy. No, no, I was… Have you heard from Chara and Asriel at all?"

Clover and Frisk's attitudes completely change. Clover lets go of Togore's hand, though the monster still holds on.

Frisk presses, gripping the phone tighter. "N-no, we haven't. We were actually planning to look for them today cause they haven't been responding to our texts. Why, did something happen?"

"That is what I worried," Asgore's voice wavers from the other line. "Frisk, I had assumed, if anyone, you would quell my worries, but…"

"But?" Clover frowns.

"Do you recall Sir Whimsalot?"

"Yeah, always frantically, um," Frisk pauses to catch their breath. "Whimsalot patrols the mountain, still?"

"That's correct. Just this morning it called me about… Something it saw, that is, that worried the both of us."

"That is?" Clover urges further. It scares Togore.

"Well, you see—" Asgore wavers again. "Whimsalot was telling me that it had a little gap in its memory yesternoon, but it distinctly remembers seeing one of Asriel's translucent vines retract from out of the ground."