Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The birds chirped their twittering song in the trees. On the roadside, dandelions were sprouting up between the cracks in the pavement. The day was perfect, the temperature warm, the sky clear and blue. It was the sort of day where all children felt the itch to play outside. Sunlight shone down on the entire town with a cheery gleam. A single cloud hovered in the far eastern horizon. Looking at it, Kris imagined it to be a dragon.

The little red wagon bumped and clattered along down the streets. Kris held on to the sides, careful not to fall out. Asriel hummed a cheery song. His backpack was stowed in the wagon beside Kris. For some reason, he preferred pulling the wagon, Kris and all, rather than simply wearing his backpack. They had never been sure why he didn’t like wearing it. Their own backpack felt kind of comforting on their shoulders. It was like it conferred responsibility and adulthood on them. Like instead of just a tiny second grader, they were grown up.

They jiggled the sides of the wagon. “Hurry up, Azzy.”

He looked back at them. “School doesn’t start for another ten minutes. We’ll be fine.”

Kris folded their arms. Mom did that a lot, and it made people respect her. “We were late yesterday.”

“We’re not late today. We’re halfway there already. Chill out.”

“You’re walking slow.”

“Then you can walk yourself instead of riding in the wagon.” He shrugged. “Your choice.”

Kris huffed, settling back in the wagon. They grabbed their backpack and pulled out a hardcover entitled How to Draw Dragons. Asriel had found the book on a recent trip to the library with Kris. He’d brought it to them with a beaming “Look, Kris, dragons.” He’d thumped it on the table, and Kris had snatched it up, happy to find more material on their favorite creature. They’d been delighted by the careful, glossy drawings inside. The simple diagrams detailing how to turn shapes into scaly wyrms had made their fingers itch to grab a pencil. Now, they lingered over the picture of a Hungarian Horntail. Their fingers skated over the words.

“The average Horntail’s wingspan was an estimated thirty-six feet across,” Kris read aloud. “Hey Azzy?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s pretty big, right?”

“Yeah, sure is. That’s like fitting, um... it’s like laying nine or ten of you across the pavement. Pretty big for just a pair of wings. Then again, dragons were also pretty big themselves.”

Kris nodded seriously. “Depending on the species. There are re... um, reconstructed—“ they sounded the word out carefully— “skeletons of dragons, called faerie dragons, that were about the same size as a housecat. Wingspans measured only a foot and a half across. Legends claim they were sent-i-ent, and may still exist somewhere in the world. They had telepathy and some psychic magic.”

“Did you read that in your dragon books?”

Kris shook their head. The motion made their headband jar, and they readjusted it, making sure the horns stayed upright. Even after two years of owning it, it was still a little too big. Mom used to wrap it in ribbon to make it fit their head better. “Saw it on TV. Mom said sentient means ‘capable of intelligent thought.’”

“Yeah? That’s cool, Kris. You’re pretty ‘sentient’ yourself.” He grinned at them. Kris smiled back and returned to their dragons.

Kris could tell when they got closer to school. It was easy to hear the other kids playing in the front yard of the school. It was a little loud, and they pulled up their sweater to their nose in defense. They didn’t bite it, as they once would have, instead just inhaling the clean scent of laundry soap. Their fingers kneaded the soft fabric.

Asriel parked the wagon in a little patch of grass near the school. It was specifically marked with “Wagon Patch,” posted on a small sign nearby. Kris had made it themself. He poked Kris. “Come on. You just said you didn’t want to be late.”

Kris handed him his backpack and climbed out of the wagon. They allowed his affectionate shoulder bump, and watched as he walked away. They replaced the book in their backpack and zipped it up. Already, they were planning what kind of dragons to doodle on their paper while Mr. Gerson talked. Maybe a Chinese sun dragon? Kris loved drawing those. It was the twisty, spiraling twirls of their red-gold bodies, like pieces of sauce-splattered spaghetti, that attracted them. And their sun-crowned heads were majestic. Kris repeated the word to themself, under their breath, as they fell into line to go to class. Ma-jest-ic.

“Did you say something, Kris?” Noelle asked. The fawn was standing beside them, her blond hair glossy and neat, her plaid skirt ironed with perfect pleats, fur nicely combed. Kris yearned to reach out and touch that pretty hair, but the one time they’d done that, they’d gotten in trouble for accidentally pulling too hard. They just shook their head.

“Okay.” She smiled a little bit. Kris didn’t respond, too busy looking at her shiny hair. How long must that take to get so pretty looking every morning? Noelle always had it so nicely styled and combed. Kris’ own hair was dull and tended to fly away everywhere, and although it was nice when their family brushed their hair, it usually ended up looking like a disaster if someone tried to put it in any other style than just left down. They usually would mess with the hairstyle if it got in the way of optimal headband-wearing. But Noelle seemed fine wearing her complicated braids and pigtails and curls every day. They tried not to envy how normal she always looked.

Mr. Gerson opened the classroom door. Kris’ gaze swung upwards when they heard his voice. “Come on in, kids. Good to see all of you looking bright and fresh this morning.”

Kris nodded at him. They didn’t necessarily love Mr. Gerson, but the two of them had an understanding. He didn’t ask them to talk in class, unless their hand was raised, and he didn't make them stop fidgeting in their seat. In return, Kris didn’t draw on the desks or hog the toys at recess or try to climb out the window or bite anyone or challenge Berdly to a duel of honor. They have done a few things that made him sigh, like pouring ketchup on their arms and telling Noelle it was blood, but most of the time, they weren’t bad. They didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings. And they only rarely got sent to the principal.

They sat down in their seat. Around them, the classroom was slowly filling. Kids were talking to each other. Temmie was hovering above her seat, squeaking excitedly, and it scraped against Kris’ ears. They exhaled, adjusting their headband again. The familiar pressure of it against their ears soothed them a bit.

Pretend you’re a dragon, Kris thought. Flying above the clouds. The only noises are the sound of wind. It’s chilly, so you’ve gotta flap your wings extra hard.

To complete the pretend game, Kris flapped their arms, super fast. They made a roaring sound, but it was only under their breath. Nobody was allowed to roar in class. It was one of the class rules.

“What are you doing, Kris?” Berdly asked them. He had that screwed-up look on his beak, like he smelled something really bad. Kris stuck out their tongue at him. They didn’t have to explain themself to him. He wasn’t going to understand anyway.

“Are you trying to be a bird? Because you can’t be. You’re just a human. I’m a bird, and someday I’m going to fly away from you cretins.”

That made Kris mad. They flapped their arms again, making a cawing noise, specifically to make him mad. They thought it worked, because his face got even more scrunched. “Headbands and mocking my culture aren’t going to make you fit in, Kris. You don’t even talk to anyone except your big brother. And you always hold your mommy’s hand when going inside. I bet you’re not even going to go to college when you’re grown up. You’re just going to stay at home with your mediocre abilities, pretending to be a dragon or whatever.”

Oh, that was it. The duel of honor could continue despite the rules. Kris bared their fangs, launching themself at him, roaring as loud as they could. They pushed him out of his chair and onto the ground, clawing and scratching and pulling out feathers, and they were fierce like a lion, like an erupting volcano, and they could hear screaming but they didn’t care, and Berdly’s magic cut into their hands and arms but it didn’t hurt at all because Kris was an angry dragon—

Green magic grabbed them and pushed them down into the ground. Kris couldn’t move at all, but that didn’t stop them from growling and hissing and spitting. They fought against it, but their body was cold. They couldn’t move.

“Kris, that’s quite enough,” Mr. Gerson said gruffly. He pulled them off Berdly. “Principal’s office. Go. You ain’t allowed to attack other students. Berdly, are you feelin’ okay?”

He was crying, which filled Kris with satisfaction. The power of anger shined deep in them. It drove out any bad feelings of guilt, for now. They got to their feet once Mr. Gerson let them go. The sound of Berdly’s sobbing explanation followed them all the way down the hall to the office. Feeling vindicated, they adjusted their headband. They had won this round with Berdly, for now.

***

Kris returned in time for math lessons to start. They surveyed the classroom behind their bangs. Berdly was wearing a bandage and a scowl. The other children sneaked glances at Kris as they sat down in their desk. They didn’t say anything. They kind of felt bad now. Mom was going to be upset at them, they knew. And Azzy would be disappointed. He worried about them all the time even when they were good.

Mr. Gerson handed Kris a worksheet. He clapped his leathery hands together. “Now, kids. We’re going to be discussing fractions. What can you tell me about fractions? Temmie?”

“tEM nus fractions!!” she exclaimed. “it’s WeN one numbr gOES over AnOther!”

“Wha ha ha! That’s absolutely right.”

Mr. Gerson went on, but Kris had already stopped listening. They examined the scrape on their elbow. No blood, but it kind of hurt. They picked at the edge. Ouch, now it hurt more. They inhaled through their nose, trying not to make pain noises.

Going to the principal hadn’t been fun. She wasn’t very happy that Kris had already fought someone so early in the morning. A small, tight ball of shame formed in the pit of Kris’ stomach as they thought about it, and they squirmed in their seat. Ms. Principal Lady had gone on and on about Kris needing to be better and not disappoint their mother. She’d said Kris was a special child, but they needed to make better choices. Special. Kris hated that word. But maybe they deserved it. They were bad today, after all. They shouldn’t have hit Berdly, even if he was a stupid doodoo butt.

They zoned out, watching Noelle brush her hand through her hair. Temmie was taking notes, though they were hard to read. Berdly sneezed. The clock ticked to eight forty-six.

Something like a crackle of static burst in their ears. Kris shook their head, trying to dislodge the sound, but it grew. Sound washed over their ears. Their hands stilled on the desk. Their heart beat wildly in their chest.

*Welcome to Monster Math!

Kris’ heart stilled in their chest. Just beat once, like a pebble bouncing across the lake and sinking into the water. No more beats. Their entire body went icy cold. Fear washed through their veins. What was happening?

Mr. Gerson kept talking, but the sounds washed over Kris, drowning out everything. They couldn’t stop it.

*Ready to start? Get ready to solve all these problems as fast as you can!

Kris’ hand moved without their permission, reaching out and grabbing a pencil. It felt strange and wrong and numb and they wanted to scream, but when they tried, nothing happened. Nothing. Their face didn’t even move. It felt cold, like they were already dead. Maybe they were. Their fingers wrapped around the pencil in a grip completely different from their normal way of holding it. They could hear Mr. Gerson explaining the math, but it was gone. Their breathing felt wrong and heavy. They instinctively tried to grab their sweater for comfort, but it didn’t work. What was happening?

*Ready? Start!

The pencil skated across the page, guided by Kris’ hand. Numbers were scrawled in a messy-yet-careful script. Kris wanted to scream. Nothing. Nothing. They couldn’t even struggle. It was fear like nothing they had ever felt.

*50, 49, 48, 47, 46...

The seconds kept passing, and they kept on panicking. Maybe they were dying, maybe something was wrong with them, maybe a ghost or a spirit had grabbed them and was yanking them around like a puppet. They didn’t know. They wanted it to stop.

*5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Time’s up!

Kris’ hand shot out unnaturally fast and returned the pencil to the side of the paper. They stared down at the rows of solved fractions. They honestly didn’t know which were right or wrong. It just... felt strange. Their hand shook. It was like they’d banged it on something.

*Great! Your score is 20 out of 30. Would you like to try again?

It was a cheerful voice. It reminded them a little bit of their dad. Not much, but a little. What a weird voice to be possessing them. Maybe they were actually dying? Maybe it was the Angel Kris learned about in church? They didn’t know at all. All they were, was scared.

*Yes *No

The yes was something more felt than heard. Something lurched inside Kris. It was like their body disintegrated, then reformed. They were sitting at their desk again. The pencil was in their hand. A worksheet sat in front of them. The problems were different, but it was very similar to the last one. Mr. Gerson was talking again. Noelle brushed her hand through her hair. Temmie took scribbled notes. Berdly sneezed. The clock ticked to eight forty-six.

Kris was very, very afraid.

Chapter Text

The clock over the human doctor’s head ticked to 9:20. Asgore couldn’t help but notice Kris staring at it, eyes blank under their fringe of brown hair. He reached out to hold their hand. They shied away. Their hand retreated into their lap. In the blue plastic chair, they looked absolutely tiny. Vulnerable.

Dr. Morrissey kept on talking. The human’s voice was nasally, as though he had a cold. Asgore hoped that wasn't the case; he didn’t want Kris catching anything. “Looking at Kris’ account of what happened, it seems that his—“

Asgore interrupted. “Er, their, please.”

He stuttered a bit, before righting himself. “Right. Their episode was some kind of schizophrenic episode. They already show many signs of childhood-onset schizophrenia: flat affect, difficulty engaging, slow processing rate, difficulty processing emotion, lack of empathy—“

“Lack of empathy? I’m afraid I don’t understand, Dr. Morrissey. Kris is very kind and empathetic to the family. They just have... trouble understanding people sometimes. And they don’t like talking to people they don’t know well.” He smiled down at Kris. They just stared at the clock, eyes dull. It was as though they were not even seeing anything there. It worried him.

“Be as that may. More assessments might be needed to figure out what’s happening with them, and for them to get treated for their condition. It might take several weeks. Would you like to arrange for follow-up appointments? Maybe with a human counselor?”

Asgore considered. He had already taken Kris to the monster doctors in town, after getting the call from the school that they had started screaming in class. Although what they said had sounded like old stories of psychic possession, there had been no trace of magic on them. This human doctor presumably knew how humans worked. He was qualified.

But Kris was fine the way they were. They had just had a bad fright. There was nothing wrong with them. Maybe it was just an aberration of some kind. Kris had always had a vivid imagination.

“Kris,” he asked them. “Would you like to come back and see this doctor again? He might have to run tests on you, but maybe it will stop that bad feeling from happening again.”

They shook their head. They had curled up into a small ball on the chair, nose touching their knees, arms wrapped around their legs. Asgore recognized it as their defensive posture. “No,” they said, voice muffled. “Don’t wanna.”

He patted their head. They flinched under the weight of his hand, and he withdrew it. “Sorry. I think we will be going now, Dr. Morrissey. I’ll contact you if it happens again. My wife and I will see to Kris.”

The human sighed. “Are you certain you can?"

"What do you mean?" Asgore was growing to dislike that tone.

"They are human, after all. You aren't. It's rare for monsters to adopt humans for several reasons, not the least of which being that you don't know exactly how we function. I think it's unwise for you to just let them be, without any other humans in their life. At the very least, seeing a human counselor might help them adjust to what happened."

"I am... sure you know what you are talking about. But Kris does not want to see anyone. If it happens again, my wife and I will consider making them go, but until then, I do not want to make them do anything against their will."

"All right," he said reluctantly. "Come back here later this year for Kris’ flu shots and general exams.”

“I will.” He stood, careful not to scrape his horns on the ceiling. It was quite small in this office, with its patterns of blue and white, the childish pictures on the wall. “Come along, Kris.”

“Can you carry me?” they whispered. Asgore’s heart broke at the shyness in their tone. He nodded, scooping them up into his arms. They wrapped their arms around his neck and hid their face in his shirt. He patted their back gently.

Signing out at the desk was difficult, given the child in his arms, but Asgore managed. He did his best to ignore the odd looks he was getting from the other humans around. This happened nearly every time he went into a predominantly human neighborhood with Kris. One extremely large Boss monster, one very small human. He supposed it made for quite a strange sight.

There was not really anything wrong with his child, was there? They were just... Kris. Shy, mischievous, quiet Kris. Perhaps they dozed off at their desk and had a bad nightmare. Yes, that seemed likely. It was probably just that. He considered that theory as he carried them out to the truck and helped them buckle into their booster seat. The inside of the truck smelled comforting, like mulch and fresh plants.

“How about we go to the diner and get some nice hot cocoa before going to the flower shop?” he asked them. “I think hot cocoa is just the thing after a fright.”

Kris nodded. They stuck their thumb in their mouth, which was something they hadn’t done since they were a bit younger. He didn’t correct them, as he normally did. He simply kissed their forehead and shut the truck door.

It was a long drive home, but the turning leaves were beautiful to observe. Sunshine played peek-a-boo through fluffy clouds above, dancing through leaves and shining over the long highway home. Asgore hummed along to the country music on his radio, in a much better mood than he started out with. It really was a nice day. Perhaps later he would play catch with Asriel. His son loved doing that.

“Dad?” Kris’ voice was very quiet.

He turned down the radio and glanced at them in the rear view mirror. “What, sweetheart?”

“Am I bad? Is that why this happened?”

The question made his heart crack in two. “No, Kris, no, of course not. You aren’t bad. You are certainly naughty at times, and sometimes you need to stop fighting the other children, but you are never, never, never bad. What makes you think that?”

They were silent for a while, chewing on their thumbnails. It took a while for them to speak. “The Angel punishes people who are bad. The hymn says it can make stars stop shining, and it can turn time back and determine destinies. Maybe it’s punishing me for fighting Berdly. It’s making me do math over and over as punishment.”

He shook his head. “The Angel wouldn’t do that, Kris. I promise. The Angel protects little children like you. Whatever happened, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I felt like I was dead,” they said softly. “My heart didn’t work the entire time.”

Asgore wishes he could hold them, could explain that everything would be fine, that there was nothing punishing them. But a faint feeling of dread remained in his heart. If this happened once, would it not happen again? There was a feeling of the strange and inexplicable around this event. It was the sense of something skittering in the dark, untamed, grotesque and chaotic, a parasite ready to feed. One could nearly brush up against it without knowing. It was there, an unknown blight that would make crops wither and children die.

He tried to push away the disturbing thought. “I’m sure it was nothing, sweetie. You’ll be fine tomorrow. Cross my heart.”

Instead of answering, Kris stared out the window. Their headband was crooked on their head. They did not adjust it. They did not speak or move at all for the rest of the drive home. It was a small thing, and not unusual, but it was hard to shake off the lasting dread in the face of persistent silence.

***

It was the loud scream that woke her up, the piercing, helpless wail of her child in terror. Immediately, Toriel was up and fumbling her way out of bed, turning the lamp on, calling “Coming, children, I am coming,” rubbing the sleep from her eyes, switching on the hall light. The last remnants of her dream — something about underground caverns and lost children — broke and crumbled away as she hurried out into the hallway. Her eyes adjusted slowly to reality: the softness of the carpet; the way Asgore’s snore ground to a halt when he woke, too; the harsh yellow lights of the hall. Her hand caught on the latch to the children’s room and pushed the door wide open.

Kris was wailing, curled up under the covers. Moonlight illuminated the room well enough that Toriel could see them huddled in the corner of the bed. A moment later, the faint scent of urine hit her nose. They had wet the bed again, then. It had been happening regularly over the last week. They'd been having nightmares.

Toriel trotted over to their bed. She rested a hand on their shoulder. “Kris, honey. Come on. Let’s get you out of that bed. Come on.”

They sniffled. They were clearly sleepy. After a bit of coaxing, Toriel managed to get them out of bed. She held their hand while she rummaged in their pajama drawer, selecting a clean cotton nightgown and fresh underwear. Kris just cried softly to themself. The sound made her heart melt.

Asriel stirred in his own bed. “Is Kris okay?” he asked sleepily.

“They had another nightmare. Go back to sleep.” She tucked the clothing under her arm. “Come along, baby. It is all right. I am here.”

They clung to her hand like a lifeline. She led them down the stairs, to the bathroom, and after clicking the lights on, turned on the bathtub faucet. The knob was at the exact halfway point between medium and hot, just the way Kris preferred. Water roared into the tub. Toriel placed the fresh clothes on the edge of the sink.

“Get out of your clothes and put them into the wash,” she told them. “I will be back in a minute. Do you want bubbles in your bath?”

Kris shook their head. They were still crying. “Don’t go.”

“I have to go take the sheets off your bed and put fresh ones on, honey. It will only take—“

“Don’t go! Please.”

Toriel softened. She stroked their hair. “All right. Do you need my help with your clothes?”

“No.” They were already tugging their pajama shirt off, the one with Pikachu on it. It was their favorite. It was starting to get a little small on them, actually, and Toriel anticipated that they would be upset when they could no longer wear it. Once the clothes were off, she gathered them up and placed them in the laundry hamper. She would do the laundry after she had stripped Kris’ bed.

“Did you have the same nightmare again?”

“Yeah. With the... the voice and... and things happening over and over... and my heart stopping... and... and...”

“That sounds quite frightening,” Toriel said, forestalling them from bursting into tears. “I am so sorry, my child. Perhaps we should take you to see the doctor again, after all.”

She turned around to see them shaking their head vehemently, already in the bathtub. They were curled up with their hands around their knees. “Don’t want to see the doctor.”

“I just worry about you.” Toriel knelt beside the tub. Kris’ eyes were huge and watery, choked with tears. “You have nightmares almost every night.”

They shook their head again. “No.”

She lapsed into silence, waiting for Kris to collect themself. It usually took some time, especially late at night. Once the tub was full, Toriel turned off the faucet. She reached for the human shampoo.

Kris got it before she did. “I can do it myself.”

“All right.” Toriel sat back. “Water we going to do with you, my child?”

The pun normally would have made Kris smile a little, but instead, they just dunked their head underwater. When they came up, they applied shampoo to their head carefully. They hated getting it in their eyes, Toriel knew. They hated many things.

Toriel herself hated these nightmares. Kris was so frightened in every single one, and every morning, convincing them to get up and go to school was a chore. She wished she could just make the dreams all stop, rather than continue this horrible cycle of being woken up nightly by her child screaming. She hated seeing Kris so upset.

“I couldn’t make myself stop,” they finally said. “I couldn’t move or yell, and it happened over and over and over and I couldn’t make my hand stop.”

“And how did that make you feel, honey?”

“Scared.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

“Yes.” They dunked their head again, washing the shampoo out. When they resurfaced, they scrubbed their eyes before looking at her. “Can I sleep with you and Dad after my bath? Please?”

“Of course, baby.”

Kris returned to washing themself. Toriel thought of how tired she was. How much she wanted to get a good night’s sleep, and how she had to get up and go to school in the morning. She was tempted to call in sick. She knew she could not.

Eventually, Kris finished with their bath and got out. Toriel wrapped them in a big, fluffy towel. “Are you okay to be alone while I go strip your bed?”

“Yeah.”

It took a few minutes, but she soon returned, damp sheets in hand. She placed them in the laundry hamper, letting Kris dress themself. Afterwards, she sat on the floor, brushing Kris’ hair. They were tiny in her lap, and she couldn’t help the fondness rising in her heart. Despite the struggles of raising them, she loved them more than anything.

She hoped that all this was an anomaly.

Kris snuggled into her back. “I love you, Mom.”

She smiled, hugging them. “Love you too. Try not to have another nightmare, all right? Nothing is going to get you. The Angel will watch over you.”

Chapter Text

Two and a half years passed and fell away, slowly but surely, step by step onwards. Kris never forgot what happened to them that autumn day, but the memory dulled. The day was like a slipped stitch in the pattern of reality. As time went on, it was less and less noticeable.

One year. The nightmares stopped. Kris still fought the other children sometimes, and they still scared Noelle with their stories about the possession, but, like their parents and brother, they came to believe the event was just an aberration. Winter, spring, summer, and fall again came, and Kris began third grade.

Two years. Their special interest switched to ghosts and incorporeal entities, for reasons Kris couldn’t quite explain. The memory of their heart cold in their chest scratched at the back of their mind. They studied legends of skinwalkers and mononoke, looked up articles on ghosts on the Internet. Tales of vengeance and unfinished business weaved into their mind. They learned the various symptoms of possession. They were fairly young, and their hands weren't quite suited to creating tokens against ghosts, but they did their lopsided best. They told Asriel of their findings, and he nodded seriously. He was a good brother.

Two and a half years. Kris turned ten in the spring. The birthday party was a quiet event, mostly because Kris disliked the noisiness and production of big parties. They got the pet bird they’d asked for, and under their parents’ watchful eye, they installed its cage in the corner of their and Asriel’s room. After some deliberation, they named it Marigold, given its yellow feathers. Mom and Dad didn’t seem exactly hopeful about the new pet, but Kris didn’t mind. They knew they could take good care of it. Feeding it and cleaning its cage out didn't require much.

It was the end of May. Spring was beginning to give way to the cloudless climes and starry skies of early summer. From Kris’ bedroom window at night, they could see the Big Dipper tracing its slow way across the nighttime sky. Marigold sang its chirping songs from the cage. Occasionally, when nobody was home, they would open the cage and let the bird fly around their room. It would always land on the sill of the closed window eventually, as if yearning for the sky. Kris sympathized. Sometimes they wanted to fly away and disappear into the clouds too.

***

“What are you drawing, Kris?” Asriel asked them. They were curled up under the table, the way they often did, horns perched on their head. The notepad in their lap was covered in vague watery shapes and a ghostly boat, from what he could see of it looking upside down.

They didn’t look up. “The River Styx.”

Asriel nodded seriously. Privately, he was a little wary of Kris’ morbid interests. Mythology and ghosts were interesting, of course, but his sibling was a little young to talk about death so much. His friends already found them a bit eerie. Kris had developed a tendency to spout unnerving facts about the various global traditions of death when they felt threatened. At least the other kids didn’t really bug them anymore.

He knelt so he could see better. “Is that Charon?”

“Mhmm.” Their pencil scratched a hooded figure into existence. Ghostly hands reached out to the spirit of a three-headed monster. “Do you have a coin for him?”

Asriel dug in his pocket and found a spare nickel. He placed it on top of the drawing. “Try not to nick-el it for yourself.”

They rolled their eyes, a rare smile on their face. “You’re bad as Mom.”

“I heard that!” Mom called from the living room. “Nobody is baaa-d as me.”

She laughed at her own pun. Asriel couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry, Kris. You’re outgunned. Or, as Mom would say, you’re bleat.”

Kris shook their head. With deft fingers, they pocketed the nickel. Sometimes Asriel wondered where all the coins and various objects they acquired went. Did the items just disappear into some void in their pocket? Or did Kris hide them somewhere he hadn’t located yet? “You guys are awful.”

“Yeah, kind of. You planning to come to the spring festival next week? I know it’s not exactly your thing, but there are lots of fun activities. You can get out more. Expand your comfort zone. There’s arts and crafts, dancing, a fashion show, a few sports. I’ll hang out with you if you don’t want to be there. We can help Dad with the floral sales.”

Kris got a weird look in their eyes. They lowered their head, bangs covering their eyes. Gently, they put the pencil down. They smoothed their favorite, much-patched skirt. When they spoke, their voice was slightly choked. “The fashion show sounds nice.”

“I was planning to get you some new clothes, anyway,” Mom called. “Would you like to go shopping with me tomorrow? There is a new store opening in a nearby town.”

Kris smiled. Their eyes were still hidden behind their hair. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Something about their tone made Asriel shiver. Their creepy voice again. He knew from experience that if he complained about it, they’d just get defensive. Instead, he just nodded. “Good.”

They put their notebook and pencil down, scooted forwards. “I’m going to play outside.”

Asriel patted their head once they got out from under the table. He readjusted their headband for them. They didn’t object. “Have fun.”

They grinned, meeting his eyes for once. It was a little unnerving. He was used to Kris’ eyes being averted, focusing on his nose or his horns. Had there always been so many colors in their eyes? Had that expression ever appeared there before? Why did he feel that dread slithering through his soul? It was... it was only Kris. He was used to them being weird and creepy. They didn’t mean to be strange, but he loved them in all their weirdness.

“I’ll have fun. See you, Azzy.”

When they strode away, their gait was fluid. Asriel tried to remember. Had Kris really grown up so much? He remembered them shuffling around like a little zombie when they were little. They were incredibly uncoordinated not long ago. It was endearing, although a little annoying when they’d knock his stuff over by accident. Maybe they’d grown up more. And grown away from him.

When he peeked out the window later, they were tossing a ball in the air. The ball arced into the sky over and over, but every time, they caught it perfectly. There was no hesitation in their movements. Asriel withdrew from the window when they started to turn to him. The look in their eyes was too strange.

***

Toriel saw little of Kris at all the next day. It was like they were in the periphery, there and not there, quiet as usual. If they said anything, it was not important enough for her to remember. She saw them once, in the hall between classes. They were talking to Temmie. It made Toriel smile. Kris used to hate seeing Temmie in any sort of context. The fact that they were talking to them at all made her chest warm. Perhaps her youngest was finally becoming less finicky.

When they showed up in her classroom at the end of the day, hair tied back in pigtails with red ribbons, she greeted them with a hug. “Greetings, my child. How was your day?”

Kris beamed. “It was good.”

“Let’s go. Are you ready to shop?”

“Yeah!”

They went willingly to the car, and buckled in without Toriel even reminding them. Toriel wove between the end-of-day traffic, careful to avoid any of the children or parents on the road. “Have you found your book that you need to return to the library yet? I keep getting overdraft fee notices for it. You will have to pay for it yourself, remember? Personal responsibility for your choices.”

“I think I can find it.”

Now that Toriel was really listening, she could detect a strange quality to Kris’ voice. She hoped they were not coming down with a cold. The last time they were sick, it was a bit of a disaster. They were laid up in bed for almost a week before they got better. High fevers, coughing, complaining of headaches, and all the while, they could not be left home alone, so Asgore had to care for them in his shop. He accidentally gave them the wrong medicine. Results were not pretty.

Kris remained silent most of the ride to the neighboring town. Toriel consulted her phone’s map system many times, until they arrived at a large department store in a strip mall complex. The sign above the store title said Opening Today! Once inside, Toriel looked around. Mannequins clothed in the latest fashions stood in artful poses. The entire store was cool, and the tiles clean. She only saw a few monsters among the people browsing the different store areas. The air smelled new and fresh.

Toriel led her child to the children’s section. “You may pick ten new things to buy,” she told them. "Try to choose something practical. Something you will wear every day."

Kris skipped off down the aisles. Toriel sat down on a nearby bench. Generally, Kris took a while to find things they liked. They had a strong aversion to certain textures of fabric, and even once they found something that felt nice to them, they had to try it on to make sure it felt fine on their body. Shopping with them tended to be a bit of an ordeal. They had had meltdowns before because something they wanted didn’t fit quite right. And it was loud in here, with so many shoppers. Toriel readied herself for Kris’ inevitable emotional fatigue.

As she was grading the papers she had brought with her, ten minutes later, a soft clearing of the throat caught her attention. She looked up. Kris was standing there, several hangers slung over their arm. A rainbow of colorful fabric exploded outward from the row of hangers. “I’m ready to try things on.”

“Are you sure?” She could see that the skirt of one of the dresses had tulle on it, a fabric Kris generally hated. Another jacket they had was covered with rhinestones. There were jeans, which was another garment they often disliked. It concerned Toriel a bit. Had their tastes changed so much recently?

Kris nodded, skipping towards the dressing rooms. Toriel sighed and packed up her things, following them. There were many people heading in and out of the dressing room area. From experience, Toriel knew that Kris most likely would not want to show off their clothing to her in front of so many people. The noise was likely already getting to them.

After a few minutes, Kris emerged, carrying the clothing in their arms. They nodded at her. “I like them. Let’s go.”

Toriel examined the clothing again. So much of it was brightly colored and richly textured. It was the sort of thing that would probably annoy Kris quite a bit on one of their worse days. “Are you sure you will wear these, my child?” she asked them. “Not all of them look like something you would be comfortable in all the time.”

Kris met her eyes. It sent a shiver down her spine, for reasons she did not quite understand. “I know what I’ll be most comfortable in,” they said. Their voice was harsh, like there was a bug in their throat. “I want these.”

Toriel glanced away. “If you say so. Let’s go purchase them.”

Even as she was checking out, chatting amiably to the clerk, the thrill of fear did not leave her heart. Was Kris all right? Were they sick? They were bouncing on their toes beside her. They usually did not do that. They usually did not make eye contact, did not seem happy in large crowds, did not speak the way they spoke today.

It is still my child, she told herself. It is just Kris. There is no reason to be frightened. They are fine. They are happy. There is no need to worry for them.

Still. Worry had a way of persisting. It persisted through the long, silent car ride. It persisted through her grading papers and watching over her children as they played. It persisted over dinner, watching the way they laughed open-mouthed and did not mention a ghost, not even once.

Kris had changed. Toriel was not sure if it was for the better.

Chapter Text

Kris wanted to scream.

It had been half a week, half a week of being trapped in their own body, unable to move or speak or do anything. Their nerves were itching with all the overwhelming, horrible input they were receiving. The scratchy fabric of the shirt they wore today. The noise of the people around them. Temmie’s loud and shrill voice. The scent of cheap perfume from the older girls. It all assaulted their senses, over and over. Their heart was cold and still as stone inside their body. Their fingertips, nose, toes, all were frozen and numb. They wanted to bend over, put their hands to their ears, rock back and forth, chew on the collar of their shirt, adjust their headband. Something. Anything. But their arms remained traitorously at their sides. Their gaze stared into Temmie’s eyes, unblinking. A smile curled unnaturally around their mouth. And their headband was gone. The ghost had dropped it into the trash yesterday.

Kris had wanted to scream loudest then. They had chanted all the exorcism spells they knew inside their head. Latin chants from Catholic tradition. Father Alvin’s prayers. Spells from Native American tribes, from Japan, Nigeria, Ireland, China, the Philippines. Over and over, willing this demon ghost spirit thing to get out of them, but it didn’t happen their choices didn’t matter nothing mattered and they couldn’t get the goddamn Voice to stop talking.

*You threw the Monster Headband away, it had said. *Keep playing dress up?

And Kris’ throat had gone tight and their eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t come but then they were walking to school the next day, memory of the last night blank as fresh paper, and they were wearing this scratchy shirt and too-tight pants, and they wanted to tear their hair out from the roots, and the world seemed much too bright and loud and smelly and overwhelming. Their head felt too light without the headband.

Is this punishment for being bad? they thought. Their mouth was moving, and the Voice continued narrating, but Kris no longer paid attention. They imagined themself tucked into a little ball, safe and hidden underneath the table. It was dark there, and quiet. Nobody could touch them there. Is it my fault this demon and this Voice are here?

They’d never heard any stories about any ghosts that paired with a guiding Voice that offered them choices. None of their mythology or case studies or anything they could find prepared them for this. They’d interviewed the ghost that recently moved to town. They’d asked Mr. Gerson about everything he knew. They wore iron necklaces, kept salt nearby most of the time, wrote spells to erase any negative spiritual energy and left them scattered around the house. All that preparation in case something happened, and none of it mattered. None of their choices mattered. Nothing was safe. The thing could destroy all their favorite objects and act like it belonged there, and Kris couldn’t do a thing to help themselves. Not a single thing.

“so TeM brOUt nu ribbonz For u, Kwisp!” Temmie squealed. Kris tried to clap their hands over their ears. Nothing worked. Their grating voice kept invading their ear canal. “HErE!!”

Kris’ hands automatically reached out and took them. They tucked the white silk ribbons into their pocket.

*You received the Ribbons.
*You thank Temmie.

“Thank you.” Their vocal cords rattled with the voice that wasn’t quite theirs. Kris hated it. “I’ll put them to good use. See you at the festival in two days.”

Temmie beamed and bounced away, off down the hallways of the school. Kris stood there a moment. They took in the sights and sounds of the familiar place. Light slanting through the windows. The yellow mustard color of the wall paint. Kids streaming through the halls, all oblivious to the awful energy inside them. Their limbs moved, and they were walking along to class. Unnatural grace suffused every movement. It was like the pilot taking over their body didn’t even care for the passenger inside. It didn’t hunch their shoulders in self-defense the way Kris normally would have. It left them feeling much too exposed to the barrage of sight and sound and smell around them. Their fingertips and toes and nose were freezing, the same temperature as their stilled heart.

The world went black for a bit, and suddenly, they heard the Voice again. It was giving the other one choices and information, as always.

*You’ve had a great day at school! After school, your friend Noelle asked you to come over and work on your fashion show things. You agreed. Now you can help her design the dress she wants to wear.

The blackness dissolved, and they were sitting on the floor of a small bedroom. Colorful fabric and different dress patterns sprawled on the floor. The Holidays’ place. They’d been here a million times, of course. Playing with Noelle and Azzy, going to parties, family visits with the Holidays. They smelled cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. Normally it would be comforting, but the panicked feeling was difficult to erase.

Noelle was moving around the room, grabbing different things. “Thanks for coming over and helping me out. I’d usually ask my mom, but she’s so busy these days. Your mom said you help her make quilts and stuff sometimes. I bet you’ll be great!”

Kris’ head bobbed. An agreement they didn’t agree with. Their throat felt tight.

“So, um, I couldn’t really decide a color. I like all of them way too much. What do you think?”

Their cold hands moved again, pointing to a swatch of fabric in pale blue. “I like this one,” their mouth said. Kris manifestly did not like it, mostly because the entity did. The Voice continued giving instructions, but Kris was no longer paying attention.

They focused on what they knew, eyes absent and staring at the sunshine in the windows. Tried to analyze what was happening, though the days of near-constant overstimulation and panic had worn them thin. The Voice guided, the other controlled. It was like... kind of like a video game, come to think of it. The way time rewound every once in a while. The way time skipped forward like a cutscene in a game.

Did that mean everything in their world was a video game to something else?

They didn’t want to think about that.

Scissors in their hand. They were cutting out a dress pattern, following the Voice’s guidance. The scissors bit easily through fabric. They handed the cut out pieces to Noelle.

What had they missed in the times they couldn’t remember? Had they fed Marigold? Had Asriel or Mom or Dad said or done something important? Kris was uncertain. All they could do was worry. They wished they were somewhere else, instead of stuck in their body. They wished they could have their headband back on.

Noelle turned and smiled at them. Her voice was soft, but in Kris’ current state, they hated everything about it. “That looks great! I’ll use the sewing machine. It’ll take just a few minutes. Don’t worry, it’s safe, I’ve been doing it forever.”

Staring directly into her eyeballs made Kris feel creepy. How did other people stand doing it all the time? Their head nodded. As they sat there, it seemed like things were happening much too fast. It freaked them out, because within what felt like a minute, Noelle was standing in front of them, wearing the pale blue dress. She was smiling. The dress barely reached her knees, and had a flared skirt and elbow sleeves. Kris thought she looked kind of pretty, even if they hated the blue.

“I like it a lot,” Noelle said. “I think it’s missing something though, don’t you?”

*You give Noelle the ribbons.

Their hands reached into their pockets. They handed the length of silky white ribbons to her. “Here.”

She examined the ribbon. “Yeah, this would be pretty as a sash. Thanks.”

She tied it around her waist into a large bow and examined herself in the mirror. She smiled. “It’s perfect. Oh, here, I just remembered. Asriel left his phone here at the family dinner a few days ago. Can you bring it to him?”

*You acquired the Phone. The Voice scratched against their ears. Frustration was starting to flicker in their chest, hot and uncomfortable. Everything needed to stop. It was too much.

Their hands accepted it. Their head nodded. “Okay! See you later, Noelle. I gotta go.”

“Bye,” she said cheerfully.

They got up, mouth fixed in an unnatural smile. Steps led them outside the Holiday house and down the pathways to their house. Thankfully, nobody stopped or bothered them along the way. It was relatively quiet outside. The chaos inside them stilled a little bit.

As they opened the door, they could hear Mom’s raised voice. It was that tone she got right before she’d hand out time outs or extra chores. Kris wanted to stay back, but their feet kept carrying them forward through the door.

“No, I do not know where they are every hour of the day! Have you tried calling Asriel? They might be somewhere with him. Don’t pull that tone on me.” Mom was holding the house phone, talking into the receiver. Her face was all scrunched up. She noticed Kris standing there, and her expression turned softer. “They just walked in. Yes, I will tell them.”

She hung up the phone. “There you are, honey.” Her angry tone was still there, but it wasn’t a lot. She was looking at them with a lot of love in her eyes. Kris wished they could tell her everything. “Your father called. He asked where you were. You were supposed to meet him after school to work with the flowers, remember? Where were you? Were you at the hospital?”

“With Noelle,” the entity said through Kris. “Sorry. I’ll go see him now.”

Mom smiled. “I’m glad to see you spending time with friends. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah. Do you know where Azzy is?”

“He is by the lake with his friends, helping set up all the festival things. He is such a helpful child, is he not? I am proud of him, even if both of you are growing up a little faster than I’d like!” She laughed, but her face turned different soon. Kris wished they could tell what was going on with her. She changed the subject quickly. “I am making dinner. Will you be home in time for it?”

The entity nodded and smiled, turning heel. “Bye.”

Wait, Kris wanted to cry out. Mom. Help me. I’m stuck in my own body. I’m not acting normal; look at me, talk to me, look, my headband’s gone, I’m talking and moving different, stop ignoring me, please, please. But it was useless. Any choice they made was useless.

They were outside now, walking to the flower shop. The air wasn’t cold. They still wanted to shiver. It felt like their body was slowly freezing from the inside out. And on the outside, all their senses were burning still. Too-scratchy shirt. The seam of a sock stuck between their toes. Pants too tight. The air too stagnant. Everything too loud. The whole world a game waiting to be reset. At least the Voice was gone, even if they had no control at all still.

The shop bell tinkled. The inside of the shop was nice, as it always was. Familiar scents of dirt and manure pervaded the air, and the smell of fresh, growing things. The lighting was comfortably dim, and it was clean, and the flower colors were never too bright. It was the environment that would normally calm them the most. Today, not really. “Dad?” the thing called. Kris burned with resentment.

“Just a moment,” he called from upstairs. They heard the floorboards creak, and there he was, in his silly Hawaiian shirt and worn jeans. Dirt turned the white fur of his hands a deep brown. He was carrying a few empty flowerpots, and he smiled when he saw Kris. “Oh, good. What happened?”

*You tell him about Noelle.

“Noelle wanted my help with something. Sorry.”

“Oh. I see.” He put the pots on the counter and strode over. His hug was gentle. He had remembered today, and Kris was grateful for that. He didn’t always remember that they weren’t always happy with huge hugs. Today, though, despite their already overstimulated brain, they wished the hug would last longer. They craved any form of being loved.

Too soon, Dad let them go. He was smiling at them. “I am glad you are stepping up to help other people. I’m proud of you. Even if you did forget a little bit.”

Their shoulders shrugged. “Did I miss out on helping you with the flowers?”

“No, not at all. Most of the arrangements are done and ready to go, but you can put together a few bouquets with me.”

“I’d like that.”

The narration started again. Kris just tried to focus on the scent and feel of the flowers in their hands. Whatever kind of sick game this all was, at least the flowers were nice, and it was quieter here. And Dad seemed happy with them. He was humming a little bit while he trimmed leaves and arranged bouquets.

The entity presented him with a bouquet. Daisies and bluebells were all wound up together, a little messy, but pretty inside the sheath of plastic wrapping. A white ribbon wound around the stems, holding it all together. Their smile stretched their face like putty. “I’m done.”

*You give him your bouquet.

He took it, smiling. “Oh! It’s different than your usual style, isn’t it?”

Yes! Yes, it’s different, I’m different, notice it, please, they screamed out. But their mouth stayed still. Their vocal cords did nothing. And Dad talked on. He didn’t notice the stranger inside their body.

“It is very pretty. I’ll be sure to display it in front of all the others at the festival.” He placed it on the counter. “You know, we all love you very much. It’s okay if you want to try different things. Your mother might be concerned for you, but you are fine like this, do you understand? I’m proud of the way you’ve grown up so much. You handled the news last night very well.”

What? What happened last night? Kris yearned to ask. They couldn’t remember it. None of it. The memories were just a blank space, empty and dark.

*Asriel’s Phone rang.

The phone in their pocket buzzed. It was Asriel’s favorite song, a bouncy pop tune. Their hand plunged into their pocket and pulled the phone out. The entity pressed the answer button with cold fingertips. “Hello?”

A bizarre burst of static and weird digital noises greeted them. The phone remained by their ear for a minute. Kris wanted to claw their own ear off. The noise was awful, like several ghosts screamed into a mic and then it was put through a glitching digital converter.

*Must have been a wrong number. You hang up.

Mercifully, the noise ended. The phone went back in their pocket. Kris was still shaken. What was that?

“Who was it?”

“Wrong number, I think.”

“You have Asriel’s phone? So that’s why he didn’t answer when I called him,” Dad realized. “Where was it?”

“He left it at the Holidays’. Noelle found it and gave it to me. I’ve gotta get it back to him.”

“That boy. He can be so forgetful. He’s a lot like I was, when I was his age. Did I tell you about the time—“

The entity interrupted. “Actually, I should go now. Thanks, Dad.”

His mouth shaped into a little frown, just a little bit disappointed. Kris felt awful. They loved hearing his stories, and the entity apparently didn’t like them. It made them angrier. How dare it hurt Dad’s feelings? How dare it pretend to be them, when it wasn’t like them at all? It was wrong, everything about it was wrong. If Kris could rip it out of themself, they would. Inside their chest, the coldness of their frozen heart radiated out, making their fingertips cold and their throat tight. Their hands trembled with anger. It wasn’t conscious, but Kris reveled in the fact that they could control at least a little bit of what was happening. Their face was still perfectly still. But at least they could do this.

Dad recovered and kissed their head. “All right. I love you. Have fun with Asriel.”

*You go to the lake.

“I will.” Their feet took off in a sprint, much faster than Kris themself would normally run. It wasn’t long before they were nearing the lake. Further down the lake shore, in a big clearing, they could see a few white tents being set up. They spotted Asriel walking around near the tents. It wasn’t long before their body had made it to them.

Asriel turned when he saw them approach. He grinned. “Hey, you didn’t trip over any of those branches this time! Good job.”

Their shoulders shrugged. “Yeah. Here.”

*You give Asriel the Phone.

He looked surprised when he accepted it. “That’s weird. Could have sworn I had it... hey, why’re your hands so cold?”

“It’s still spring, Azzy,” the entity pointed out. It sounded so affectionate. Kris wished they could punch it. “I don’t have fur. It’s chilly out.”

“I guess. But still, that can’t be good. Where’d you get my phone, anyway? I told you not to steal my stuff. Were you taking photos of Marigold again?”

“You left it at the Holidays’ when we were there the other day. Noelle asked me to bring it to you.”

“Noelle hung out with you? That’s cool. I would have thought she’d be mad, after the whole hiding under her bed thing,” he laughed. “That really wasn’t nice of you.”

It had been a joke, mostly. Kris thought it was funny when Noelle got scared. And she was always still nice to them after, so they were clearly still friends. Mom had taken them aside and told them not to scare her anymore. The wagon incident really had gone too far, and this was just going to make Mayor Holiday stop inviting their family over. Mr. Holiday had just laughed and made jokes about Kris being creepy ever since they were a baby. Kris kind of didn’t like him.

If they could turn time over, the way the entity and the Voice could — or one or the other? They didn’t know how the game worked — Kris wouldn’t have done it. They would have been good. They would have stopped telling Noelle scary stories and taking Asriel’s phone and yelling at Berdly. They would have been more helpful. Maybe being good would make this stop.

Asriel patted their head. “What happened to the headband?”

“I’m a big kid now. I don’t need it.”

“If you say so. Wanna help me set up the tents?”

Their face beamed. They didn’t stop looking directly in Asriel’s eyes. “Yeah!”

***

In their dreams, Kris was falling. Air whistled past their ears. It was an impossible distance, minutes passing. There was darkness all around. They didn’t know which way was up. Everything about them was cold and hard. With a shock, Kris realized their body had turned to marble. They couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe even. Their arms, legs, torso, everything was cold and hard stone, like a statue. A chaos of sound crackled around them, bursting into the darkness. Kris wanted to hide from it, but the horrible screeching just kept repeating. There was no sense to any of it.

Far below, a gray floor came into view. It was fast approaching. Fear filled them. They could not survive such a fall, even hardened like a statue. They would crack into tiny pieces. But they couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to soften the fall. The floor rose to meet them. The angry sounds built to a crescendo.

And they were waking up in their bed, and their breath came fast and choking, and their hands were grasping at the sheets. Moonlight glinted off the window panes. Asriel was a lump on his bed. Marigold’s little chirps whistled through the room. It was a soothing noise. Kris sat up and brought their hand up to their head, racing it through their sweaty hair. Their legs tucked close to their body. It was just a dream. Everything was fine, it was just a dream.

Wait. They could move. They could move. Nothing was stopping them. Kris patted themself all over to test it. Held their breath, let it out. The relief brought tears to their eyes. They were okay. It was over.

It was over.

Kris buried their face in their hands and sobbed. All the tension of the last days bled into it. They’d been so overstrung, so tired. They could let it out now.

A soft noise from the other bed. “Kris? You okay?” Asriel. They could hear him get out of bed and approach them. Kris couldn’t stop sobbing. They heard him sigh, and then the squeak of springs when he sat on the end of their bed. “Bad dreams?”

Kris shook their head, unable to speak. Their mouth felt cemented shut. They were unused to using it. All they could do was sob. The tears scalded rolling down their cold face.

Asriel sighed. “I know it’s tough, what happened with Mr. Gerson. It was pretty sudden. It’s kind of scary that people can just fall down at any time, isn’t it?”

What?

He kept talking, unaware of Kris’ shock. They could hear him scooting closer. “He was really old. He had a good life. Remember all those stories he told us as kids? He was a good teacher. I’m sure he’d be glad that you miss him.”

He fell down and they... missed it? Why? Why would the entity make them miss it? Would that disrupt the game it was playing? And what happened to him?

A terrible possibility occurred to them. Had the thing made them... kill him? Many ghosts did that, controlled people, made them hurt others. This one didn’t follow the established patterns of most ghosts, but it was possible, wasn’t it? They could have seriously hurt someone in the time they didn’t remember. They could have hurt everyone. The entity had already made them get rid of the most important item they owned. It could have done a lot more.

Their hand felt for their heart. It was still cold. It wasn’t moving. Perhaps they were dead, too. Maybe everyone was. Maybe everything was. The thought broke a ragged sob out of their throat. This entire world was a game to something else. Everything was helpless.

Asriel scooted to their side, wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t say anything, just rubbed their back in little circles. He was soft and warm against their frozen body. His heartbeat pounded against them, and although it wasn’t their own, it seemed to fill up an empty space in them. They couldn’t seem to stop crying. They felt lost, and even Asriel’s presence couldn’t change that.

“You’re cold,” he murmured, stroking his hand through their hair. “Have you been sleeping in a bucket of ice or something? Cause that’s not exactly ice for your health.”

They managed a watery chuckle. “Mm.”

He was silent for a while, just letting them sob into their hands. Finally, he spoke again. “You getting rid of the headband wasn’t just about wanting to look like a bigger kid, was it, Kris? It was something else.”

“Yes,” they sobbed out in relief. “I... I...”

“Hush. Breathe. Take a deep breath.”

They gulped in air and lifted their head. “Azzy, I, I haven’t been...”

Kris’ heart seized in their chest, ice radiating through their veins. Their body stiffened against their will. In their throat, their voice choked. Their tongue stilled. Control evaporated like water.

Asriel was looking at them with concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

The entire world glitched. Blackness surrounded them. Kris cried out, but all there was around them was silence. It was empty and cold. There was only void and nothing more. They were a prisoner again.

No, they screamed into the blackness. No! No! Let me talk to him! Let me stop this! I don’t want it to happen anymore! Let me go! I’ll be good, I swear I’ll be good. Please.

Nothing. No answer.

Please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry all of this happened, please, I’ll leave you offerings, I’ll send you rituals, I’ll do whatever you want. Please. Please. Leave me alone.

Nothing. All was silence and freezing cold. No heartbeats, no way to measure time at all. Just Kris, bodiless, alone, and fear coursing through every bit of their soul. There was no air for breath and no lungs to breathe. No heartbeat. No sound. Nothing. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the last few days, but Kris felt that they’d rather have any sensation back over this endless terror and cold. Even pain would be better than any of this.

And then they were washing back into their body. They were standing at the entrance to the festival green. People were bustling around, laughing. Music was playing. Kris could see their family. And the Voice started up again. Nothing had changed. Things had just gone on without them.

Kris wanted to scream.

Chapter Text

Asgore hummed a quiet melody. It was a counterpoint to the bouncy strains of the pop music echoing throughout the festival grounds. His voice was not beautiful — far from it, actually — but it was instinctive for him to hum as he fiddled with the cash register. His oversized hands made it a bit difficult for him to handle the coins. Eventually, he counted out the correct amount of change and handed it to his customer. “There you are.”

Rudy Holiday pocketed the coins with a wide, careless grin. The gap in his teeth flashed bright in the spring sunshine. He hefted the bouquet of poinsettias. “Thanks, man. How’s everything going?”

Asgore barely managed to conceal a wince. “It is, uh. Going well,” he lied.

He and Toriel had been fighting recently, in fact. Small things, like him leaving dishes unwashed in the sink. Bigger things, like her expectations for the children. It had been a bad month for the both of them. It was not like they had not gotten in disagreements before, far from it, but there was something festering in the air between them recently. He felt bad about it, truly he did, but it was difficult to know how to placate his wife sometimes. She didn't like to speak to him when she was angry at him. Since she had not said a word to him yet today, Asgore was left wondering what he did wrong, and how to fix it. It felt awful, honestly.

Rudy scanned his face and laughed. “Fighting with Tori again, huh?”

Asgore could not resist a small smile at that. “You know me too well.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’ll cool off eventually. She’s always been a bit of a spitfire. Remember that time in college when her friend got cheated on by that Stanhope guy? She stormed into the party and threatened to set him on fire!” He laughed. It was an easy, familiar sound, and it made Asgore smile a little more. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been more scared than when she glared at me on that day, Asgore. She’s good at making people fear for their lives if she has to.”

“Yes. Truth be told, I am still scared of her sometimes.”

“And you should be! The day a man no longer fears Toriel Dreemurr is the day he’s managed to defeat the Angel themself. She’s a force of nature. A force of nature.” He laughed to himself again, rapping his knuckles on the makeshift plastic counter. “She’ll come around. What are you guys even fighting about? Something dumb like not unloading the dishwasher? My wife got mad at me for that last week. She was right, of course, but it still seems like a pretty unreasonable thing to get mad about, seems to me. I’m not too good at the all the minutiae of running a household. Or running a town, come to think of it. Don’t think I was exactly cut out to be a mayor’s spouse.”

“Neither am I. I do not think I would be a good leader,” he sighed. “It is little things, mostly. We have both been irritable lately. She’s on one of her silent treatments today, and honestly, I have no idea what I did wrong. I wish she would just yell at me, or hit me, or do anything. I hate it when she does this.”

“Yeah. Oof, man. I don’t know. She’s tough to understand.”

“That she is.”

The music changed, and Rudy straightened up. His ear flicked as he looked towards the center of the green. “Looks like the kiddos are starting up their little fashion show. Gotta hustle over there, give these flowers to Noelle after the show. She’ll be thrilled.”

“I’ll come with you.” Asgore reached behind the counter and got out a little sign with a ‘busy’ notice on it. As he stood up again, he had to be careful to keep his horns from knocking something over. He loved the spring festival, and the sales tended to bring in some good income, but this little tent was much too small for a monster as big as he was. It was difficult to move about without accidentally scattering baby’s breath or daisies about.

He placed the sign on the counter and followed his friend to the center of the field. There was a small stage there, raised above the grass. People were gathered about, milling around, some watching, most not. The sun was warm, but the spring air still had a chilly bite to it. The air smelled of flowers and baked goods. Asgore cast his gaze around, looking for his children, but saw no sign of them. He hoped Kris had not gotten into any trouble behind stage.

“Can’t believe Noelle and Kris are participating,” Rudy commented. “Noelle’s a shy one. She seemed real happy to do this, but you know how she gets. I hope she’s not freaking out back there. And this sort of thing never seemed like what Kris would like. It's a small thing, but to a little kid? This sort of thing is enormous. Scary for kids like Kris and Noelle."

“People change,” Asgore said absently, only half-listening. The shifting colors of the many people made it hard to see anyone. He stood head and shoulders over most monsters, yes, but the sheer amount of people here made it difficult to pick faces out.

“Sometimes, yeah. Glad that Kris has grown out of their biting people phase, at least!”

Asgore finally spotted his wife. She was talking to the new teacher, the substitute brought in from the next town over. Her face had that particular cast that he knew meant trouble. He wondered, again, what he had done wrong. Maybe it was someone else. He wouldn’t know. He hoped everything was all right.

The music became loud and bombastic, blaring through the field, and he instinctively looked around for Kris. They usually hated that type of sound. It took a moment for him to realize that they were not near him this year. It made him both sad and proud. He was used to them clinging to either his or Toriel’s hand during town meetings, used to sneaking them candies while the proceedings went on, used to sweeping them away when they started to get overwhelmed. They would usually go on walks around the lakes with him once the noise and crowd started to get to them. Toriel would generally be too busy to do it, and Asriel too engaged with playing with friends. He hadn’t realized until just now that he was going to miss that little tradition.

Still. Kris was not going to stay a child forever. He was proud of them for getting past their limitations recently. Just because they were changing did not mean that it was bad. Asgore sometimes thought Toriel was too concerned with keeping their children safe. It was fine for Asriel and Kris to become different people over time; natural, even. Soon enough Asriel would be graduating and leaving home, and afterwards, Kris would as well. The children had to grow up some time or another.

Rudy nudged him, and Asgore realized he had slipped into a reverie. His gaze shot to the stage. He’d missed at least part of it, but clearly not much. There was Monster Kid, teetering across the stage in an old-fashioned knight outfit. It made him smile. The kids were all so cute. He’d have to congratulate all of them later. The fashion show was just a tradition, something cute for the kids and parents, no prizes, no winners, but it was brave of all of the little ones to put themselves out there. As a child, Asgore likely would have died if he had been made to do something like this.

Monster Kid struck a pose — or, well, as much a pose as one could strike with no arms. “Yo! I’m a knight, yo! I’m gonna beat up all the bad guys with my knight powers.”

A ripple of laughter rose from the people watching. The mayor smiled down at Monster Kid. “And where did you get the idea for the costume, brave knight?”

“I like knights. They’re really awesome. My parents made the costume for me. Hey, guess what? My sword’s made of Styrofoam, but it hits stuff really well. I made Kris try hitting me with it before I went onstage. Now I’ve got bruises, haha.”

“And... why would you do that?”

“To test the limits of being brave and stuff! Yo, Kris! Come hit me with the sword in front of everyone so everyone can see how awesome I am!”

“I think we’re going to call it here,” the mayor said quickly. Asgore could barely hear her over Rudy’s loud laughter. “Thank you, Kid. Go play with your friends now. Next up, Noelle.”

Monster Kid careened offstage. Asgore was mildly worried they would trip with the speed of their run, but they made it to behind the curtains just fine. He hoped they wouldn’t break anything offstage. So far, they had been in the hospital twice this year, by what he had heard. Once from climbing on the roof in the middle of the night, and once from the whole wagon incident last summer. Kris still had a scar on their chin from that.

Mayor Holiday cleared her throat again. “Noelle?”

“Aw, damn,” Rudy said. He tried to peer over the crowd. “Poor fawn’s probably back there, freaking out. Come on, sweetheart. You’ve got this. You’re a big girl.”

The pop music blaring was conspicuously loud. No movement rustled the curtains. The mayor waited a moment, then put the microphone on the stand. She took a step towards the curtain, but before she got there, it parted. Noelle was shaking visibly, tiny steps wobbly. The blue dress she wore was adorable, but Asgore couldn’t help but feel bad for her. She was so shy. This had to be hard for her.

“Yeah! Noelle!” Rudy whooped. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

Her eyes scanned the group. When she spotted her father, she relaxed a little. Her mother handed her the microphone. Noelle gulped.

“I, um,” she whispered. “I made this dress. My dad and Kris Dreemurr helped me.”

“And how did you come up with the idea?” the mayor prompted.

“I wanted to, um. To do s-something myself, not just... not just buy it somewhere.” She fiddled with the white sash around her waist. Her entire face screamed shyness. “I liked making it.”

“Well, good.” Mayor Holiday patted Noelle’s head. “It’s beautiful. Good job.”

As soon as she could, Noelle hurried offstage. Rudy whooped and cheered, and Asgore clapped. He hoped that Kris was not going to bother Noelle at all back there. They loved pranking her.

“Next up—“

But before she could finish, the curtain parted. Kris danced out, a huge smile on their face. Asgore could not help but stare. They looked so... different than normal. Their hair was pulled away from their face in a ponytail and tied with a ribbon. The smile on their face strained at their cheeks. They looked happy, at ease, and their steps were light and quick, nothing like their normal shuffling walk. A hectic pink flushed their cheeks. Bright eyes scanned the crowd.

But the most striking difference was their dress.

It was... big. And poofy. Bright, bright yellow, sequins bouncing off the sides and hem. Sleeves that poofed and clung. The skirt flared with layers of mesh-looking material. It was the sort of thing that would normally drive Kris absolutely crazy. They hated glitter and scratchy material. But they had bought it, and they were wearing it now, with that huge smile that spoke of happiness and ease. Asgore noticed, with a small shock, that they were wearing red shoes with tiny heels underneath. How could they even balance in those? They usually fell over even walking over flat surfaces.

Kris took the microphone without even prompting. They were beaming. “Hi, everyone.”

Their voice rang out loud and clear, not mumbled, not muttered. It rang out over the music. He had never seen his child so confident. Looking around, he could see on a few others’ faces that the change surprised them, too. When had Kris grown up so much?

Mayor Holiday gave Kris a smile. “You look nice. Where did you get the idea for the outfit?”

“Bought it at the store. I wanted to feel like royalty. I think it’s pretty.”

“It is pretty. Great job.”

Kris grinned, posing with their chin in the air. Asgore felt his face slowly shape into a smile, pride growing in his heart. They looked so confident and grown-up on that stage. So different than the little child they were not long ago. He would miss that child, yes, but he couldn’t help but be a little in awe of the person they had become. He would have to tell them, after they received their awards, how proud he was of them, how lovely they looked in their new outfit. He did not know much about fashion, but he was certain his child was one of the best ones up there this year. They reminded him of a sunflower, all yellow and brown and sunny.

Kris pranced offstage. The little show proceeded, but Asgore’s mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of the first day he had met Kris. They had been just a little child then, barely two years old. It had been a surprise to hear how loudly they screamed, with all the determination their young soul could produce. But the adoption agent had handed the child over to Toriel, and she had hummed to them, and petted their head, and gradually, they quieted as she spoke with the agent.

Asgore had been surprised at how angelic they looked when they were contented. It was as though their tears had never existed. He had seen human children before, of course, but never one with quite the same expression in their eyes. It was as though Kris was concentrating very, very hard on something he could not see. He and Toriel had agreed, later that day, that the two of them would adopt the human. It was as much the screaming as the expression when quiet that convinced him. This child needed all that he and Toriel could offer, and they needed it very badly.

He hoped he had given them all that, to the best of his ability.

At the end of the show, the children stood on stage. Kris was beaming, bouncing on their toes, looking content as could be. As the mayor handed them a gold plastic medal, Asgore clapped as loudly as he could. He could nearly burst with pride for them.

The medal winked on their chest. The music continued, and other children were taking bows, and Rudy was cheering and rushing the stage with the flowers for Noelle, but from where he stood, Asgore could see the smile sliding off Kris’ face like butter off a hot griddle. Their eyes shifted. A hand reached up for their chest, settling over their heart, as if swearing an oath. Their eyebrows wrinkled. They looked troubled, overstimulated, tired, sick, and their spare hand absently ran down the side of their dress, as if they had forgotten it was there. Sunlight glared in their eyes. Their skin was paler than Asgore had seen it in a long time.

And then they bent over double, and vomited all over the stage.

Everyone’s reaction was nearly instantaneous. Noelle turned away, hiding her face in her father’s leg. Monster Kid shrieked. Temmie’s loud “oh NOES” split the air. And Asgore was hurrying to the stage, pushing past sickened parents and loud children, climbing up onto the platform, crouching beside them. The thick scent made his own stomach queasy, but he put his hand on their back. “Kris?”

They wiped their mouth, still bent over. They shook their head. Their response was inaudible over all the noise.

He rubbed their back through the scratchy fabric. “Come with me, Kris. It is all right. Breathe through your mouth.”

They nodded, inhaling deeply, exhaling once again. He took their hand, and they grabbed on tight. He maneuvered them around the puddle of vomit, ignoring all the people in the way. Under his breath, he whispered encouragements to them. It took a while for them to get off the stage. Their steps were stumbling and slow.

Toriel was standing near, her brow pinched with worry. “Are they all right?”

“I think they just had a bout of delayed stage fright. Are you still feeling ill, Kris?”

They nodded once. Their face was even more difficult to read than usual. “I want to go home.”

“You did well, honey,” Toriel told them warmly. “I am very proud of you. You look beautiful today.”

Kris just clung to his hand. Asgore patted their head. “I will take them home, Tori. Hopefully I will be back before the end of the festival.”

She looked at him, and her eyes softened. Whatever problem she had with him, it seemed to have been forgiven. She leaned in and gave his nose an affectionate nuzzle. “All right. I will run the flower tent until you return.”

“I do not think you can make a flower tent run. Move at a slow crawl, perhaps, but it is not going to win any marathons soon,” he joked.

Her mouth tilted up at the corners. He was reminded, again, of why he loved her so much. It was that expression of genuine mirth that first caught his interest. “Do not underestimate me, husband of mine. Iris-pect your expertise, but this will not be the first time I rose to the challenge.”

He chuckled. “If you say so. I expect the tent to be jogging laps by the time I return.”

She laughed, walking away. He watched her for a moment, then returned his gaze to Kris. “Do you want me to carry you, sweetie?”

They nodded, lifting their arms. He had not carried them in a while, but they still fit in his arms perfectly. They were a bit heavy and still smelled a little bad under their perfume, of course, but he did not mind a bit. Oddly, their skin was cold, as if they had gotten a chill. He hoped it was simply nerves.

As the sounds of the festival faded behind them, he rubbed their back in gentle circles. They squirmed, and he quit. Instead, he focused on the road ahead of him, the gentle thud of their heartbeat, the way the sun shone.

“It is all right if you had stage fright,” he said eventually. “You did very well. I am proud of you.”

Kris just made a ‘hmm’ noise into his shoulder. Their arms tightened around his neck. Silence.

“I thought you looked lovely in your new outfit. And you performed very well. Nerves sometimes get to people. Why, even your mother used to get nervous giving presentations in college, if you can believe it. She said she hated the idea of failing in front of her professor.”

Again, they were silent for a while. “Yeah,” they finally said. Their voice had an odd, halting tone, but that was not uncommon with Kris. Their tone and face and body language did not always match up with what they were attempting to express. Often, their face was a little difficult to read. “Yeah. I guess that’s what it was.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“A little bit. My heart’s beating really fast.”

It was, indeed, beating fast, like a bird fluttering in a cage. Asgore wondered if they were sick. They felt so cold, and with that heart rate, everything couldn’t be normal. He patted their back in sympathy. “It is just nerves. You'll be fine.”

“I’m glad it’s back.” Their tone was harsher. They buried their face in his shoulder. He couldn’t catch their next words. Instead, he just kept walking, rocking them back and forth.

They were nearing the house. He walked up the driveway, adjusting them on his hip, and opened the door. The entire house was bathed in warm light, and still smelled of the pies Toriel had baked this morning. He set Kris down on the floor. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change? I will make you a nice cup of tea. It will make you feel better.”

They nodded, trotting up the stairs. Their gait was lurching, slow, uneven, and despite the familiarity of it, it worried him a bit. They had been walking so well this week. Maybe it was just the heels that made it difficult for them now. But no, that could not be. They had walked fine earlier. Perhaps it was their illness.

He hummed as he filled the kettle with hot water. The steam rose in tiny spirals off the surface of the liquid. Asgore watched, not really paying attention to anything, stuck in the zen mode brought about by doing a simple task. The simple song he hummed was gentle and soft. The sunlight floated into the sink and suffused everything with gold light.

A scream suddenly, from upstairs. Fear and terror and sadness. “Dad! Dad!”

He dropped the kettle, ignoring the way hot water splashed into the sink. He grabbed a dish towel and dried his hands as he ran to the stairs. “Kris! Kris, what is it?”

All that greeted him was an incoherent wail. Fatherly instincts took over. He raced to the door of their bedroom, ready to solve any problem, deal with any crisis. His footfalls were heavy against the floor. “I’m coming, I’m coming, do not cry, I—“

He opened the door. The scent of perfume struck his nose, pungent and overly strong, like someone had emptied an entire bottle in the room. Kris was standing by Asriel’s bed, hunched and crying. The dress pooled around them like a shroud. Their wail rose when they saw him. A shaking finger pointed to their side of the room. “It’s Marigold.”

He followed their finger. The cage hung from the ceiling, as always, swaying gently, like a corpse on a hangman’s rope. The inside was a frenzy of golden feathers. They littered the sides, the floor, everywhere, as if the bird had flung itself against the walls of the cage trying to escape. Asgore could not suppress a soft gasp. It was all so ghastly. It seemed out of place in this children’s bedroom, near the battered toy wagon, with the stars stuck to the ceiling, toys and books littered carelessly on the floor. Wrong.

The instinct to comfort took over. He turned to his distraught child, gathered them up in his arms. They offered no resistance. Their cries were loud as the toddler they once were. It was a heartbroken sound, and he found himself murmuring, “shh, shh,” to them, the way he would when they were younger. It was fine. Everything was fine.

But in his mind’s eye, he could still see the yellow body of the bird in the cage. Dead, lifeless. Feathers littering the ground. It was as if it had been driven mad. It was as if it had died of fear. It was as if the insidious feelings creeping through their house had become tangible, and in doing so, left behind a victim in its wake. Every child sees their innocence start to decay at some point. Asgore was left with the terrible feeling that this was just the beginning for Kris.

Chapter Text

Asriel woke. For a moment, he lay in the soft expanse of his blankets, wondering what had woken him. He could see sunshine through his eyelids. It was warm in his blankets, and he didn’t want to face that chill in the air. For a moment he considered going back to sleep. It was spring break, after all. He could get as much rest as he felt like.

And then he heard Kris’ feet stomping around over the floor. A clatter. A squeak. A soft thump noise. The floorboards creaked as they approached his bed. Suddenly, a knee was planted on his left arm, firm and heavy. He yelped. “Hey!”

Kris was perched on his bed, reaching over him to grab something off his shelf. Asriel’s sleep-blurred eyes didn’t catch much. He moved his arm, practically shoving them off. They made a disgruntled noise and snatched something off the shelf. In half-apology, they patted his head. It was a stiff movement. “Sorry, Azzy.”

He rolled over to see them better, using a hand to brush his ear off his cheek. “What are you doing, Kris?”

Kris climbed off the bed with clumsy movements. Asriel rubbed his eyes to clear them, taking them in. A small wooden square was clutched in their hand: the warding charm they’d made for him two years ago. As he watched, they knelt by a half-full trash bag. The background of the room solidified in his view. With a shock, he realized that they’d torn it apart. The toy chest on Kris’ side of the room was gutted, thrown halfway across the floor and sprawling on the rug. Nothing remained inside. Torn pieces of paper decorated the floorboards. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor. Their decorations had all disappeared off the shelves above their bed. One shelf rested crookedly on another, as if someone had torn it off the wall in their haste to destroy. Two more full trash bags slumped near the door. Asriel couldn’t help but stare. Did he sleep through all this?

Kris didn’t look at him. Their eyes had dark circles under them, and their mouth was set in a thin line. “I don’t want this stuff anymore.”

He recognized their favorite stuffed bunny near them. As he watched, they stuffed it in the bag with a quick, vindictive motion. It made him frown. “Don’t want it anymore?”

“No.” They grabbed another handful of toys and stuffed them in. Their movements were stiff.

Asriel sat up. “Hey. I know it’s been rough lately, but you don’t need to do that. What if you want it all later? And why’d you tear the room apart like that? We can talk about this.”

Kris banged their hand on the floor. Distress was etched into the thin line of their shoulders. “I told you. I don’t want it. Go away.”

“It’s my room too, remember?”

“And it’s my stuff to throw away!”

Asriel rubbed his eyes. None of the family had gone to bed early last night, what with everything that happened. Asriel himself was sad about the bird — he’d cried too — but Kris was inconsolable. It had taken a long time to coax them to go inside after they had buried Marigold. They had stayed by the makeshift grave, wailing, digging their hands in the dirt. It had taken hours for Dad to convince them to come in. By then, Asriel was nearly asleep on his feet.

He tried to think around the lingering grogginess. “Why’d you grab that charm you made me?”

“Because it’s useless,” they said around clenched teeth, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. More toys in the bag. “It doesn’t do anything.”

Kris had done strange things before, enough to fill an entire scrapbook of photos and anecdotes. They’d collected teeth from all the other children in the neighborhood and buried them all in the front yard. They’d put salt on their toy dollhouse, worn the same pair of socks for a week, dismantled their old action figures and replaced the heads with those of other toys. Asriel’s personal favorite thing was the time they had licked the subway pole on a trip into the city. But this was different. Kris’ motives were often incomprehensible, but Asriel was sure they weren’t doing it because it made them feel happy or safe.

“Listen, Kris,” he said. “I know you’ve been having a tough time recently, with Mr. Gerson’s death and what happened with Marigold—“

“I don’t want to hear it!” They inhaled. The bag was nearly full now. “It... it... I don’t want it anymore! That’s all! You can’t keep stuff forever.”

“Okay. Okay. Breathe. It’s okay. Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe! Just go. Go away. I don’t want you here.”

“I’m trying to help. Do you need me to get Mom or Dad to help?”

“No! Let me be alone!”

“Please.” He kept his voice soft and even, as if soothing a skittish animal. “You’re tearing the room apart. You’re trying to throw your things away. And you’ve been acting really, uh...”

He couldn’t say strange. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings. After an awkward pause, he continued. “...Different. Please, just use your words and tell me what’s going on. You’ve been good at that lately.”

Kris barked out a laugh. It was so uncharacteristically dark, so humorless, that Asriel couldn’t help but jump a little. Their voice cracked in the middle. “Do you like me better like that? When I use my words?”

“What?” He crossed over to them. Up close, he could see that their eyes were bloodshot. Their skin was pale as paper. “Kris, what do you even mean by that?”

They glanced at him, glanced away. Their teeth tugged at their bottom lip. A hand came up and settled protectively over their chest. The anger seemed to seep out of their shoulders, making them curve inwards. It was ridiculous, they were only ten, but in that moment, Kris looked old. Older than anything. It made Asriel’s protective instincts surge. It was like getting punched in the throat, that look on their face.

When they finally found their words, the anger was gone. Their voice was very quiet. “What did I say to you the other night? When I was telling you what was bothering me. I can’t remember.”

“You said, um... I think you said you wanted to be different now.” Right? He was pretty sure that was right. “Was that it?”

They heaved a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

They weren’t looking at him at all. The hand over their chest was kneading restlessly at the fabric. The bag lay on their lap, forgotten. Kris wasn’t the most expressive person, but the sadness on their face shouted loud and clear at Asriel. He stroked his hand through their hair. “Well, you did well. You seemed... completely different. And I was proud of you. Really. I thought you were just great, and different like you said, and it was what you wanted so, um, of course I’m happy for you. Even if you did end up vomiting at the end. But hey, everyone gets stage fright sometimes.”

They glanced at him. He had to resist the urge not to blink too much. Mom always said he did that when he was lying. It must not have worked, because their spine stiffened. They shoved his hand off. Their mouth peeked open, moving with words he couldn’t quite catch, before slamming shut. Silence.

“So, um. Yeah.”

“I don’t think I want you here right now, Azzy.” Their voice was low. “You’re not helping.”

“But I—“

“Get out.” They picked up more toys and put them in the bag. The floor was empty of anything but torn paper now. With clumsy hands, they started tying off the top of the bag. “Let me do this.”

“You don’t need to—“

"I do need to! Get out! Leave me alone!"

"Kris--"

The blow came suddenly, shocking him with the amount of violent intent in it. It hurt. For a second, all Asriel could register was the pain in his shoulder. A yelp scraped its way out of his throat. He reeled back.

They’d hit him.

Kris had hit him.

They were standing above him, face twisted in a scowl. Anger frayed their voice into high-pitched shreds of sound. “Just let me make a choice! Just let me do this! You don’t understand, you’re not sad, you’re not even trying to be! You’re just trying to control me because you don’t like me like this!” They stamped a foot on the ground. It shook the floorboards. “I don’t want you here! I don’t want you to make me keep stuff that’s gonna get thrown away anyway! Is that enough words? Is that clear now? Is it?”

Asriel couldn’t speak. Words half-formed filled his mouth, and then slipped away. More than the pain, the deep sense of wrongness he felt disarmed him. He’d seen them on bad days before. He’d thought he could deal with them. But if Kris was so upset that they would lash out on this scale, then something had changed in them, right under his nose. He knew suddenly, with a bones-deep certainty, that this was not the Kris he knew last month, nor the one he knew last week. It wasn’t just grief plaguing them. It was something so much darker. The thought made his fur prickle.

“Children?” Mom called from downstairs. “Children, you are not fighting in there, are you?”

Kris and Asriel stared at each other for a long moment. Asriel was the quickest to respond. “It’s okay. We’re fine,” he called. He never removed his eyes from his sibling’s face.

“Do I need to come up there?"

"No. We're okay."

Kris glanced away first. Asriel wasn’t sure what he expected — more anger, fear, maybe another bizarre reaction — but shame spread across their face like ink in water. A hand pressed against their mouth. Almost to themself, they mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t answer.

For a while, Kris and Asriel sat next to one another. Asriel’s shoulder throbbed. Thankfully, they didn’t try to touch it or to apologize more. The wrongness still strangled his throat, bitter and slick as bile. He tried to find more words. Nothing. Was this what Kris felt like all the time? Like they were imprisoned inside their own mind, like every little thing near them was slicing an already-open wound? He felt as if the weight of the world was crushing him.

Finally, he let out a deep breath. “The getting rid of stuff. Isn’t that a grief ritual somewhere? To stop a ghost from possessing your possessions or something?”

Kris shook their head. “It’s just mine.”

More silence.

“Are you going to burn it or something?”

“Huh?”

“Your stuff.”

“No. I just... I’m gonna throw it away.”

“Mom won’t be happy.”

“I don’t care.”

Silence again. It was cold in here, not quite enough to make him shiver. Now that he was paying attention, he could see that Kris had left the window open. Gusts of chilly wind blew in occasionally. He could hear Kris’ careful breaths beside him, the little scratch of their nails against their skin. Mom was playing one of her favorite hymn playlists downstairs. She always loved the Angel’s Lullaby in particular. Asriel tried to lose himself in that familiar sound, but it felt wrong. He missed Marigold’s little chirps and whistles.

“Do you want me to help you get the room cleaned up and everything thrown away?” he finally asked. It felt wrong, but it was the only thing he could think of that could halfway solve anything. Kris was clammed up. Something told him he wouldn’t pry their secrets out of them anytime soon. All he could do was help them cope a little, and contain their damage as much as possible.

Kris finally looked at him. They’d been staring at a spot on the floor since they sat down. Now their eyes settled on his face. Their expression relaxed the slightest fraction. “Thanks, Azzy.”

“No problem, sib.” He nudged their shoulder, careful not to bump them too hard. "Let’s get this fixed.”

The two of them worked in silent harmony. The room was a mess, but with both of them, it didn’t take long to get everything tidy again. Finally, Asriel looked at the birdcage. The hook it was hanging from was much too high for Kris to reach, which was probably why they hadn’t tried to take it down earlier. He gestured to it. “Want me to get this?”

Kris studied it for a long moment. Finally, they nodded. “But don’t throw it away. Hide it somewhere safe instead. Somewhere I can’t find it.”

“Why?”

“She needs a home to come back to, if she wants. I don’t want her to be angry at me if she decides to be a ghost.” They spoke with that serious authority they only mustered when talking about their ghost stories. It made the knot in Asriel’s chest loosen, ever so slightly. Maybe they weren’t a stranger after all.

Asriel patted their shoulder. “You were really good at owning her. I’m sure she wouldn’t be mad at you.”

“I don’t know. Just do it, please.”

He dragged Kris’ toy chest over so he could stand on it. It took a bit of reaching, but he managed it. The cage was, fortunately, clean, since Dad had gotten all the feathers and feeding dishes out last night. It dropped to the ground with a clang. He bent and picked it up. The thin wire felt almost brittle under his fingers. “Got it.”

“Thanks. Can you bring the trash bags when you go downstairs, too? And throw away my red wagon along with it? It’s outside the front door.”

He frowned. “Kris, you love your wagon.”

“I know.” They didn’t sound frustrated, just tired. “But I’m gonna have to get rid of it someday anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

He hesitated, and then put down the cage. He crossed to Kris and gave them a light hug. They felt warm, almost feverish, in his arms. Their heartbeat pounded hard against his chest. “I love you, Kris.”

Don’t be sad, he did not say. Tell me what’s actually wrong, he did not say. They’d made their silence pretty clear.

“I love you too, Azzy,” they mumbled. They pushed him away. “Now go hide it.”

He half smiled. It felt fake on his face, just a collection of insincere muscles. “Is it like hide and seek? If you find it, you lose?”

They smiled weakly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Okay. I’ll take these out to the garbage while I’m hiding it, too, then.” He tucked the cage under his arm, grabbing the trash bags. “Be back in a bit.”

Mom was in the kitchen, singing along to the hymns on the TV. She glanced at him when he entered. “What are you doing? You and Kris are not arguing, are you?”

“No. We’re playing a game, now.” He tried not to blink too much. “I’ll be back soon after I hide these.”

She scrutinized him. “You know you can always tell me when something is wrong, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Mom.” He hurried out the door. He could feel her gaze on his back.

He loaded the bags and the cage into the wagon. Instead of going to the garbage cans at the end of the driveway, though, he went around the side of the house and into the woods. The small wagon bumped and clattered along behind him. The wind blew cold straight through his thin pajamas, but he didn’t mind much. It wasn’t a long walk through the trees to find where he wanted.

Years ago, when Kris was around four, Asriel had gotten it into his head that he wanted to build a tree house. It had taken a lot of persuasion and lectures from Mom about “safety with sharp objects” and “splinters” and “Asgore, you are not going to let our son climb tall trees, are you?” Eventually, though, she’d agreed, and he and his dad had spent the summer puzzling over diagrams and haphazardly nailing wood together. The result was a small, snug structure, perched in an old oak. Asriel and Kris had played there all the time when they were a bit younger, but Asriel hadn’t been back here in over two years. It looked a little less sturdy now. Dead leaves were strewn over the top of the roof. The names ‘Asriel’ and ‘Kris’ were fading from the lowest ladder rung. Rot had set its teeth gently into every board.

Asriel took the items up one at a time. The inside of the tree house smelled like wet wood. It was so much smaller than he remembered, and completely empty. When he moved, the floor creaked. He’d grown out of this place. It made him a little sad. Still, it was as good a place as any to put Kris’ stuff until they calmed down and wanted it back. Once everything was safely stowed in the corner of the room, he stood back, evaluating. It seemed... forlorn, somehow. The smallness of the room, the way the bags slumped against one another. The cage sat stranded inside the rusty wagon, door hanging half open. An empty vessel, waiting.

He thought of Kris, their bizarre behavior, and all they’d done recently. The wrongness still choked him. It was impossible to shrug off. Helpless. All of it made him feel so very helpless. It wasn’t in his nature to simply watch Kris tear themself up inside.

It’s just grief, he tried to tell himself. They’ll recover. Don’t be a crybaby about it. You’ll make things worse by pushing them. Be what they need. You're good at pretending.

He shivered. It was cold out here. He needed to get back before Kris got suspicious. Maybe later he’d try to talk to them. For now, all he could do was watch, and wait, and hope they would want their things back someday.

He still wanted to cry.

Chapter Text

Rain stuck to Kris’ hair and clothes like unwanted burrs. It was cold. They shivered as they felt drops sliding down their back. Already, their shirt was clinging to their skin like an anxious child. They wished they could peel it off, but the café was crowded, and they knew walking around shirtless wasn’t acceptable, tempting as it was. Six months ago, they would have done it regardless, but things had changed. They had changed.

“It came down fast, didn’t it?” Dad was saying, smiling at everyone. Mom was talking to the human at the desk, trying to get everyone seated. Asriel was peering outside at the pouring rain. Water dripped off his horns and onto his hoodie. The whole café was full of people talking under the quiet patter of raindrops. Color and sound and motion swirled everywhere they looked. It was bright, inviting, but just now, Kris would have liked everything to be still and quiet. They forced themself to stand straight, rather than tucking themself into a ball or throwing a fit. It hurt to return Dad’s smile.

Asriel shook himself. Water sprayed all over Kris. They made an inarticulate noise of protest, and he glanced at them. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

A spark of anger leaped in their throat, but Kris forced it back. They’d grown adept at that recently. Fists clenched, posture straight, eyes ahead. Ignoring the sound and color and sensation threatening to set them off. “It’s okay.”

Don’t get mad at him again, they chanted. They chewed on their lower lip. Even if the sensation was painful, it was oddly comforting, in a way. Don’t get frustrated. It’s okay. Be good. He didn’t mean it.

Three weeks had passed since Kris had thrown their possessions away, and things still weren’t great between Kris and Asriel. The two of them had barely spoken to one another in all that time. It was probably for the best he wasn’t talking to them, it was easier to avoid conflict that way, but the distance ached. They didn’t know if he was angry or upset or just didn’t like them anymore. He had seemed proud of them when they were being possessed. And he wasn’t the only one. The thought made them angrier, but they pushed it down. Mom was following the human to a table. Kris trotted behind the rest of the family. The table had hard chairs, the kind made of wood and not softened with cushions. They sat cross-legged as a form of silent protest.

“Well, despite the rain, it seems that everyone is having a pretty good time today,” Mom said cheerfully, looking through her menu. “How would you all rate the new museum? I think it was a nine out of ten.”

“I’d give it a seven,” Asriel answered. “I liked the natural history exhibit, but the astronomy exhibit was kind of boring. What’s the point in staring at star charts? It’s not like we don’t already see stars every night.”

“Kris liked that one, though, didn’t you, Kris?”

They shrugged a shoulder, uncomfortably aware of everyone’s eyes on them. Their wet shirt clung to their shoulder, then released, and they hunched their shoulders to stop the sensation. “It was fine.”

Truthfully, they hadn’t liked it much, either. Playing with the models of planets had been pretty fun. Finding constellations in star clusters was interesting. But looking at the huge computer screen shimmering with galaxies and stars and comets had reminded them how very, very tiny they were in the vast scheme of things. It was too terrifying to consider in detail. They’d hurried past, instead choosing to look at the fossil exhibits.

“I thought the entire museum was fun,” Dad rumbled. “The butterfly wall was especially beautiful. Ten out of ten.”

Mom was looking at them expectantly. They averted their eyes. A hand reached for their hair, but stopped before putting any strands in their mouth. “Eight.”

“Hello there,” a cheerful voice said near the table. Kris jumped, turning to look. The speaker was a human in a dark shirt and apron. Curly hair threatened to spring loose from an enormous bun. Bright eyes crinkled at the corners. She was smiling around her words. “I’m Heidi. I’ll be your waitress today. Can I start you all out with some drinks today?”

Her eyes lingered on Kris as everyone placed their drink order. Kris was used to that, being a human child with a monster family, but that didn’t stop them from disliking it every time it happened. Even with their face bent to the menu, they could feel her gaze on them. They scratched their nose and tried to not mumble when their turn came. “Hot chocolate.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, what was that?”

“Hot chocolate, please,” they said again, a bit too loud. The sound was a dissonant chord in the quiet chatter in the café. They hid their face, not wanting to attract any more attention. They wished the water soaking their clothes would dry up faster. It was making them too sensitive.

After a moment, the notebook snapped shut. “I’ll have those right out for you in a jiffy. And hey, kiddo, do you want a crayon and some paper? You can totally draw while you wait.”

Kris extracted their face from their hands. The waitress had a nice smile on. Even if there wasn’t much variation in smiles to Kris, they could tell this one was nice. There was something inherently likable about this lady. Tentatively, they nodded.

With a flourish, Heidi extracted a red crayon from her apron. She opened her notebook to a blank page and tore it out. With another flourish, she set the items in front of Kris. “There. Draw yourself a nice picture. I’d love to see it when I get back.”

“Say thank you, Kris,” Mom prompted.

“Thank you,” they whispered, staring at the lines on the paper.

“I’ll be back soon with those drinks for you.”

Kris reached for the crayon. Already, they were thinking about what they wanted to draw. A phantom from the far edges of the world... but no, they’d put that aside. It twinged their heart like a buried splinter. They cast their mind about, looking for something else to draw, ignoring the pain. Mom and Dad were talking. They didn’t want to listen. It didn’t matter, anyway.

Something happy. A sunflower, with six petals and a round, open center. After a moment of deliberation, they added a smile to the blank circle in the center. There. Something cute and happy. In the other corners of the paper, they doodled abstract shapes. Spirals and squares. They’d half finished a messy portrait of their brother when a mug of hot chocolate plunked down in front of them. A perilous tower of whipped cream tilted alarmingly before righting itself. Kris instinctively grabbed at the mug to keep it from wobbling.

“There you are, sweetie,” Heidi said cheerily. She peered down at the drawing. An empty tray was balanced expertly on her arm. It didn’t even move at all as she bent to get a better look. “Oh, how cute! Is that a picture of your brother?”

Kris nodded shyly, taking a careful sip of their chocolate. It burned their tongue, and they barely managed to avoid spitting it out. The pain remained even after they’d swallowed their sip. Gently, they put the mug on the table. “Except it’s all red, and doesn’t really look like him.”

That made Mom chuckle, followed by everyone else. “Well I, for one, think it looks exactly like him.”

Asriel stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have hands that big, Mom. Or stick figure legs.”

“I did my best,” Kris said, stung. Several sets of eyes turned to them. Asriel’s look seemed especially harsh to them. Instinctively, they hid their eyes behind their bangs. They tried again. “I mean. It’s kind of hard to draw in crayon.”

“Of course,” Dad said kindly. His knee bumped theirs under the table. They didn’t look up at him.

“Are you all ready to order?” Heidi said, breaking the awkward moment. “I can come back later.”

“No, I think we are ready. I would like a turkey sandwich, please. And a side salad.”

“I’d like a grilled cheese,” Kris told Heidi. “And tomato garlic soup.”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” she said. Her pen skated over the paper. “I—“

Her voice cracked suddenly. Kris looked up at her. Her throat was working, but no sound came out. On the notepad, her fingers shook. The smile on her face disappeared. Fear filled her eyes for a brief moment. It was like watching a lighter flare to life, then go out just as suddenly. The pen fell to the floor. Her face slackened. A hand rose to her chest. Fingers curled like claws.

A slow chill climbed Kris’ back, unrelated to the rainwater on their clothes. “Are you okay?” they asked.

Her eyes fastened on them. They were foreign. The chill on their back turned to ice. Those colors in her eyes weren’t there before. And the expression in them was one they recognized. Her voice came slow and quiet. “I apologize. I will be fine.”

Mom and Dad were saying other things, but Kris no longer made out the blurred words, They couldn’t stop staring at her glassy eyes. Their heart rushed in their ears. Everything seemed bright and sharp suddenly. Breaths stabbed in their lungs and throat.

They recognized that look. Clear as they’d seen in mirrors.

She was being possessed, too.

Asriel touched their shoulder. His voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. “Are you cold? You’re shaking.”

“Bathroom,” they managed. They slid off their chair. They stumbled, nearly falling into Heidi, but managed to get up. The sound of water outside transferred directly into their ears now. They couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. The bathroom door was in front of them now. They fumbled at it, and once inside, locked the door. They were on the floor before they registered that their legs had collapsed under them. Everything seemed far away and distant. Their vision shifted like like a kaleidoscope.

They weren’t the only one.

Were there more? More people who lived with their wills locked away? They had thought it was an anomaly unique to them but it wasn’t there were more people were they all human or were they monsters—

They were shaking so hard they thought they’d break into splinters. With a start, they realized that high-pitched whine in their ears was their own voice. I’m going crazy, they thought.

Their breaths clawed at their lungs. The moments dragged on, despite the frenzy of panic. Somehow they weren’t dead. They were still here, even if they couldn’t breathe or think. It took a moment for them to remember to put their head between their knees. They concentrated on what they could feel. As sharp and hard as the world was, it grounded them to focus on each sensation. Hard tile underneath them. Fingernails pressing painful half-crescents into their palms. White bathroom walls. The sound of clinking dishes and quiet talking outside. The rain water starting to dry on their clothes. The scent of wet hair. Their skin was cold in the naked air, but it was a living cold. Their heart was still beating at a frightful pace. They weren’t possessed. They weren’t dying. They were themself.

Thoughts stopped skidding out of control. Kris picked through the wreckage. What they found frightened them, but it wasn’t the tsunami-like fear of earlier. Their breaths were slowing. They would be okay. They clung to that idea as hard as they could.

A million people might be living their lives like that, they thought. None of them ever know when it’s gonna strike. It could be the whole human race. Maybe we’re all avatars of some forgotten gods or ghosts. I just haven’t heard of it before now because I don’t know any humans beside me.

The notion seemed insane. A whole world of people, living with their free wills locked away. It was terrifying to consider. But Kris steeled themself and forced themself to look the idea directly in the face without flinching. Yes, that could be it. It was horrible, but what about this whole thing wasn’t? It was no less awful than the fact that at any moment, their body might cease to be theirs. It just meant they weren’t alone.

Kris pictured a million people, living their lives day in and day out with their souls screaming inside. Every second scraping along like a blade against a bruise. None of their hopes or dreams would be fulfilled. And if they ever made progress towards the things they wanted, everything could be snatched away without warning. Maybe it was why so many unfulfilled ghosts haunted the earth. A plague of entities had taken their lives away from them before they got to live them. And now, desperate to let their spirits be known, they lingered on after their body had decayed. So many people could be cheated out of their own lives, if Kris was right and there were many more people like them. It was a wonder there weren’t more ghosts.

Kris finally rose to their feet. Their legs felt shaky. They made it over to the sink. Under the harsh bathroom light, their face seemed pale and harsh. Sweat clung to their temples. They turned the sink on and splashed water on their face. It felt awful, being all damp, but the cool water helped ground them. The last jagged pieces of their mind set into place.

They could hide this revelation, as well. Their family didn’t need to know about the whole possession thing. Besides, what could their parents do? Rip the soul out of Kris’ body? Tear the entities out of every single afflicted person? The idea was laughable. No, there wasn’t a way to help them. All the amulets and tokens and incantations in the world hasn’t made the entity go away in that hellish week. The only way forward was to hide it and continue pretending so they could make everyone proud. Their hands shook, and Kris forced them to still. No. No more freaking out. Even if it was crushing them inside, they couldn’t burden Asriel or Mom and Dad with this. It wouldn’t be fair. They already had to deal with all the broken things about Kris. They didn’t need to know that the new, shiny version of themself made them miserable.

You have to be brave, they told their reflection. The child in the mirror looked so strained and pale, it was almost hard to believe it was Kris and not some stranger. They watched the child’s mouth set into a firm line. Tears threatened their vision, but they held them back. You’re going to keep going. Even if it’s lonely. And hard. And awful. Even if there’s no point. You have to make them happy. You have to.

They wiped their face. A brittle, empty feeling settled over them. This changed very little, they knew. It just made it a little more horrible. Just another twist of the knife. They already knew there was no use resisting it. Mr. Gerson and Marigold wouldn’t be dead if there was. Whatever punishment humanity was paying for, Kris wouldn’t give up in the face of it. They clung to that with a bitter certainty. They still had Asriel and Mom and Dad to keep happy. It was enough.

It had to be enough.

A knock on the door. Mom’s voice. “Kris, dear? Are you all right in there?”

“Fine.” Their voice was hoarse, and they swallowed, wiping their face. “I’m fine.”

“It has been twenty minutes.”

“I...” A tremor in their tone broke in. They wrapped their arms around themself. No. No more freaking out. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Another glance in the mirror. They set their shoulders, lifted their chin. There. Now, they were brave enough to face anything. They looked like a survivor. They looked like the protagonist of a TV show, not the scared little kid they felt themself to be.

The last tremors wore off. And when they returned to their family, their face of stone betrayed nothing. No sign of turmoil. And that was how it would be from now on.

Chapter Text

It was all smooth sailing and clear skies, day after day, melting and blurring into each other. Another A, another prize won, another friend made, admirers clustering around. Admiration from peers. Pride from parents. Late nights doing homework. Perfect. Effortless.

At least, that’s what it looked like from the outside.

Asriel sighed, stretching out his hands and popping his knuckles. He was being overdramatic, probably. He was a flawed person like anyone else. Kris commented just last week that he still cried way too easily. It wasn’t like he was on a pedestal or anything. Still, people were starting to watch him, now. College scouts had started to email him. Now, more than ever, it was critical that he did everything just right.

He stretched, looking idly over the homework spread out on the kitchen table. Math was done. English, done. Biology, done. He had a project due in world civilizations, but he’d already worked on that today, so he would be fine. There was a test next week in magical studies. He really needed to review his notes. He was still shaky on elemental magic theory. Funny, as that was the type of magic he himself had, but, well. Sometimes people were most ignorant about themselves, right?

The door opened. He glanced over and was greeted by the sight of Kris staggering in, caked in snow. For a second, he was alarmed by the way they were walking, before realizing that their backpack was stuffed full. It dropped to the floor with a heavy clunk. Kris’ sigh of relief was loud.

“Kris, is that a weed?” Asriel asked.

They shot a fingergun at him with their free hand. The other was occupied unzipping their winter coat. “Nah, it’s crayons.”

“I’m calling the police.” He got up. “Seriously, though. Since when do you have so many books?”

“Went to the library while you were out at basketball practice. Just got back.” Their breezy sigh was almost convincing. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s out. Grocery shopping. She realized we didn’t have all the ingredients for dinner.

“Great.”

Asriel studied Kris. They were smiling, as usual, and as usual, their eyes were empty. At least the status quo hadn’t changed again. At least they didn’t seem miserable today.

He’d never considered himself extremely perceptive. Smart, sure. Some would describe him as charismatic. He didn’t have the troubles his dad or Kris had connecting with people. But he didn’t just look at a person and easily dissect their problems, either. Most of the time, he wasn’t looking hard enough to notice. When Burg got turned down by the girl he liked, it took Asriel almost a week to realize that something was wrong with his friend. He was too busy with... well, everything.

It was different with Kris. He’d never been able to pinpoint the exact cause of their sudden personality change. Sure, he knew that it had something to do with their bird dying. But he didn’t understand why they’d thrown out everything, or why they’d simply change the subject when he tried to pry. But he could see that, despite how proud his parents were of them, they were struggling. It had been over a year and still they hadn’t returned to their old ways. A year, and they hadn’t stopped whimpering in nightmares, or pushing him away when he tried to comfort them. A year, and he was still the only person who really noticed how hard they tried to get people to like them.

A familiar, bittersweet emotion welled up in him. He swallowed it back. “What kind of books did you get?”

“I’m not gonna let you steal them, Azzy.” It was a slight barb. A bit playful, but he could hear the storm clouds gathering in their words. It was pretty easy for him to make them upset these days. He thought (he hoped) it was just a side effect of puberty. A soft, bruised place in his heart still worried that they hated him.

“I know. I just wanna see. Hey, did you pass that test the other day?”

They nodded. “Got an A.”

“Really? That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them stared at each other for a little too long before Kris glanced away. They’d taken off and put away all their snow gear already, but their hands still toyed with the zipper on their hoodie. “I think Mom’s gonna be proud.”

“Yeah. She usually is. If you don’t look out, you’re gonna end up getting higher scores than me on the SAT.”

They grinned. “That’s the plan. I’m gonna be smarter than you, even.”

“Angel above, I hope so. Did I tell you that I almost crashed the car last week?”

“No. Really?”

“Really.”

He’d been terrified. He’d only recently gotten his license, and during the brief second that he’d skidded on the ice, visions of a wrecked car and his parents’ disappointment had swum in his head. He’d had to pull over and rest his head against the steering wheel after, trying not to vomit. The sick feeling of failure had lingered for a while.

Like he’d thought earlier. It was tough, feeling sick with every little thing he messed up.

He grinned, shaking off the memory. “It was dumb. I got distracted, that’s all. I’m lucky that everything was fine.”

“You sure are. Dummy.” They rolled their eyes. The gesture was starting to look almost natural on them. The light-hearted insults and saying things they didn’t quite mean still faltered, sometimes, coming out of their mouth. It worked to get them friends, though, which is why Asriel assumed they’d picked it up.

“I sure am,” he agreed. “So. What books did you get?”

They sighed, giving in to the inevitable. “Ghost stories. I wanted to see if I’d like them as much as I used to.”

He tried to hide his excitement. An old interest of theirs. They hadn’t done almost any of the things they used to do in such a long time. They’d given up almost everything. Maybe this was a sign they were finally turning around. “Really? Did you read any of them yet?”

“One. It was pretty lame.”

“You seem embarrassed by it.”

“I was a dumb kid. It’s annoying to see you used to like dumb things.” They gathered up their backpack. “Anyway. I’m going to our room.”

“Okay.”

They disappeared up the stairs, and Asriel gave a quiet sigh of relief. Finally. Maybe they’d stop looking so stone-faced and sad-eyed all the time. Maybe they’d finally stop reading those books about human tragedies. Maybe, finally, they’d open up to him again, and finally tell him why they’d suddenly changed. He didn’t know this new Kris very well. He missed the old one.

But when he checked on them later that evening, they were curled up on their bed, rocking slightly back and forth, earbuds in. Their fingers drummed a rhythm on their collarbone. Books were scattered on the bed and on the floor. It was conspicuous in the emptiness of their half of the room.

Asriel tapped the doorframe. “Hey. Dinner’s ready.”

They turned to look at him, pausing their rocking and drumming. They didn’t turn off their music. “Okay.”

“Did you read those books?”

They sighed. “Yeah. They were okay.”

Asriel frowned. Something was bugging them, clearly, but he couldn’t figure it out. It was a recurring theme in his life these days. “Just okay?”

They nodded and didn’t elaborate. Gently, they took their earbuds out. “What’s for dinner?”

“Shepherd’s pie. And roasted veggies. Smells good, doesn’t it?”

“I can barely smell right now. I’ve got a cold.” Kris stretched. “Guess I shouldn’t have gone out in the snowstorm for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You used to love those things.”

They shrugged one shoulder, climbing off the bed. “Yeah, well. I used to be an idiot. Remember how I used to challenge other kids to duels of honor? And how I would flap my hands whenever something excited me? I wasn’t exactly the best judge of stuff, Azzy.”

He followed them into the corridor. “I thought your hand-flapping was cute. You were so excited about stuff—“

“Dad!” Kris cried out happily, like they didn’t even hear Asriel. They rushed through the kitchen to stand in front of Dad. “You’re home early.”

Dad gave Kris such a crushing hug that Asriel winced. He knew that Kris hated big hugs, and hated being touched when they didn’t initiate it. But they stayed there, limp like a doll. No protest.

It was funny. Asriel would think that with so much wrongness, he’d eventually stop noticing, and get used to the fact that Kris had changed. But he could never shake that sense of awfulness when he saw Kris acting differently than they had done their entire life. He couldn’t help but think his anxiety to be perfect had influenced them. Maybe to some degree, it was his fault. Maybe he should talk to someone about how worried he was for them. They weren’t happy, despite all appearances, he was sure of it.

But when he looked into his father’s proud face looking down at his sibling, he couldn’t do it. Kris would never forgive him. Mom and Dad were so proud of Kris like this; he didn’t need to do that to the two of them. The best he could do was try to convince them that he liked them better when they weren’t suppressing everything. The failure of all of it stung.

He thought uncomfortably of the bags of clothes and the rusting cage in the treehouse. He went back and checked to see if they’d been found yet, a few times, but the items were always still there. Kris really had never gone looking for their things. And they’d outgrow the clothing soon. It would be better to throw it all away, but it felt like admitting defeat. Kris would be happy again. Kris would love things again someday. He just needed to wait.

“Dad, guess what?” Kris told him. “I got an A on the test.”

“You did? I am very impressed, Kris.”

Mom smiled at Asriel. “How about you, Asriel? Did you pass your test in science on Friday?”

“Oh yeah. A plus.”

“Great! The two of you are doing excellently.”

Asriel sighed. “We sure are, Mom. We sure are.”

Chapter Text

“It is not that I don’t like your generosity,” Toriel said. She rubbed the wet rag against the blurry windowpane harder, as if cleaning it could scrub away her problems. “It’s a fine thing. But you are going to lose the flower shop if you do not make more sales.”

It was a cold winter evening, and snowflakes were falling outside, and she and Asgore were deep cleaning the house to prepare for the holidays. The soft squeak of his own rag against another window stopped. “Tori, Snowdrake just lost his wife. It would not be fair to make him pay to give her a beautiful send-off.”

Perhaps not, but the incredulous disbelief in his voice only sharpened her irritation with him. Slowly, as if explaining a concept to one of the schoolchildren, she said, “Perhaps you can offer him a discount, then. Or suggest a less ornate flower arrangement. There are ways to be kind without giving everything away for free.”

“It just seems unfair to ask him that,” Asgore persisted. “The medical expenses following her fall were bad enough for him. He has his son to think about.”

“And we have our children to think about. You are hardly a villain for maintaining your livelihood. I know you are soft-hearted, but surely you see that if you give away all of your flowers, at this rate, we will have to mortgage the house in order to keep paying rent on the shop. Or we will have to shut the shop down. Neither is a good option.”

“I will find a way to make extra sales, then. Perhaps I can start growing some new types of flower—“

“With what money?” Her irritation broke through in her voice. For a moment, she was glad that the children were already in their rooms for the night. She cleared her throat and turned to him. “Your shop has not been successful for years, Asgore. I know you would like to think it can be again, but you must face facts eventually. Even with cutting back on all the little luxuries, even while bargaining up and down for food and buying the cheapest things possible, we do not have enough money to pay for everything next month on simply my salary. Either your shop brings in money or we lose it. And I do not want you to lose it.”

He was hurt, she could see that. He struggled for words for a moment before saying, “Then what do I tell him? That he needs to pay money he doesn’t have to send off his wife? I can’t do that to him.”

“You can’t do that to anyone, no matter the situation!” Toriel’s patience snapped. “I don’t want to be angry at you, but you give away more flowers than you sell! Someone wants flowers for their granddaughter? You hand them over. A young woman wants flowers for his sweetheart? You’re happy to just give them away! We’ve been losing money for years because you don’t have backbone enough to tell your customers that you’re running a business!”

Her voice rose. She was aware that she was shouting. Something wild and savage had broken loose in her, something she wasn’t entirely familiar with. A tiny piece of her whispered to stop, but she didn’t. “I work day in and day out to put food on the table and to keep our children healthy and educated. I enjoy my job, but that does not stop me from being exhausted by it! And it does not change the fact that I am being paid very little! I come home at the end of every long day to grade tests and feed our children and keep our house clean, while you continue puttering around with flowers and being foolish with our hard-earned money once again! I am sick and tired of pulling all the weight around here!”

Asgore remained very still throughout his wife’s tirade. She was suddenly aware of how very out of character it was. Since when did they argue like this? She had never shouted at him like that before. For a very brief moment, she was ashamed. Then pride barreled on. She could feel bad about it later. Right now, petty as it was, she wanted him to admit that he was wrong.

“I get it. You think that I’m a deadweight to this family,” he said, clearly wounded. “I will—“

“That is emotional manipulation and you know it,” she said angrily. “I do not think that. What I do think is that you need to do your job properly.”

“What do you suggest I do? Go back on my word? That is an awful thing to do.” He was also starting to get angry. “How am I supposed to look a grieving monster in the eye and tell him that I need money more than he needs peace of mind? What kind of example does that set for our children?”

“Then maybe don’t set the example of being a damn doormat first so you don’t get backed into this situation! And next time, change your behavior! You care so much about people liking you that you are neglecting your family’s needs!”

“Is that what you assume? That I do it because I want people to like me? Not all of us are as calculating as you, Toriel. I have integrity. I have kindness. If you cannot comprehend that, then you should go back to the kindergarten you teach at!”

There was a creak on the stairs. The two of them locked eyes for a second, half-guilty co-conspirators. It was as if they were children caught in a fight. In an instant, Toriel had banished the biting remark swelling on her tongue, driven the anger from her face and voice, and had turned to look at the stairs.

Kris was standing there, expression neutral. If they had heard their parents arguing, they showed no sign of it. “Hi, Mom and Dad.”

“What are you doing up, sweetie?”

“Bathroom.” They were a small, pale ghost in their white pajamas, all sallow skin and unhealthy pallor. Toriel noticed that the pajama shirt they were wearing was a bit too small, and she could see the outline of their ribs under the fabric. Her concern grew. How did she not notice that before? Were they sick? “Also I want some water.”

“Then go ahead.”

They disappeared into the bathroom. Toriel heard the click of the door. The silence in the house sat thick and clammy around her. Shame burned hot in her chest. It was fine to argue, every couple argued, but if it worried Kris...

“I am going to bed,” Asgore said. He put his rag on the counter. “We can talk about it later. Hopefully without arguing.”

“Fine,” was all Toriel could say.

He disappeared up the stairs.

Toriel was left with the solid silence, and the embers of anger and shame slowly dying away in her chest. The feeling was soon replaced with a kind of cold emptiness. The two of them had never argued like that before. It should not have felt so momentous. Every couple she knew fought every so often. It wasn’t the sign of failure her heart believed it to be. Yet, somehow, it felt like a bad portent. Disaster waited just around the corner.

Ridiculous, she told herself, picking up the rag again. Things will be fine tomorrow. You will be less angry, and he will be less ridiculous, and everything will turn out alright, and there will be nonstop sunshine and daisies.

She was nearly finished with the last window when her child emerged from the bathroom. They surprised her by walking right up to her and wrapping their arms around her waist. She reached down and rested a hand on their head. “What is it, honey? Something wrong?”

“No, I just feel bad for you,” they mumbled. “You’re worried and he’s being stupid about it.”

The validation sent a guilty wave of satisfaction through her, but she stifled it. “You heard?”

“Yeah.”

She stroked her hand through their hair, thinking. How best to approach this? “Your father and I love each other very much, as you know. Just because we have an argument every once in a while doesn’t change that.”

“I know. He’s still being stupid, though. You’re worried about real things. I don’t think he’s ever worried about a real thing in his life.”

“That isn’t a nice thing to say about your father.”

“Not if it’s true.” They lifted their face to look at her. For once, they were making eye contact. She was caught in how strange their eyes were, the shards of dancing, multicolored light in them. Had they always been like that? She tried to think back, but she couldn’t remember. “Don’t you think it’s true?”

Toriel experienced a moment of extraordinary strangeness. Reality splintered into a thousand fragments, rearranged around her child’s face. She was caught between two worlds, the one she normally inhabited and.... what was it? Something much stranger. Something as chilly and fragile as her child’s arms around her. Her Soul tugged momentarily in her chest. She could see the image of her child talking to Asgore, telling him that she was wrong, but the image faded quickly. Two realities, laid over one another.

Slowly, Toriel nodded. “Somewhat. But do not let him hear you say that.”

“Oh, I won’t.” That smile. Was there something different in that smile? She tried to think, but there was fuzz clouding her brain. “Just because I heard the argument doesn’t mean you should give up on it forever. Honestly, you deserve better than how he’s treated you.”

“I... I suppose.” Why did she feel so strange? It was just her child. It was just an argument.

Her child let go. “I’m going to bed. Good night, Mom.”

Their name — no. His name. She’d known it ever since the day she started looking for a child to adopt. It came easily to her tongue. She’s said it a million times before, after all. “Sleep well, Thomas. Love you.”

He nodded, smiling. “I love you too.”

The strange feeling faded entirely as she watched him walk upstairs. Soon enough, it disappeared wholly from her mind. Something is out of joint in the world, a subconscious part of her suggested, but she dismissed it entirely. Thomas was the same as he’d always been. She and Asgore could work out their issues. The world was just as it should be.

Toriel resumed wiping down the window. The faster she completed the chore, the faster she could go to bed. She was looking forward to it. She probably needed a rest, high tensions and all that.

She still had the nagging feeling that she had forgotten something.

Chapter Text

Relationship value five, the gauge in the corner read, but Kris was far too numb to read it. There was so much their stunned mind didn't --  no, couldn't process. Again, limbs locked down. Again, a body cold as ice, a heart that didn't beat. A voice narrating their every move. It would be enough to send them into sensory shutdown on its own. It already mostly had. 

But the thing, the thing that came back over and over to their mind, was a simple thought.

It's erased me.

Kris barely even noticed the other things. They felt certain that the thing controlling them caused a fight between their parents. They had felt time split into two different paths. They weren't sure which path stuck. It didn't matter. They didn't have time to dissect it anyway. The words seemed to circle above their stunned head like birds in a cartoon.

It's erased me. I don't have my own name anymore.

A small thing, compared to the enormity of everything else that had happened. They shouldn't have felt so awful over it. After all, a part of them whispered, they'd been steadily erasing themself over the better part of three years. But it happened, and now their parents were using a different name, and just like that, Kris no longer existed. They had never realized just how much of their self was wrapped up in their name.

I'm not even a person anymore, their stunned brain repeated. I don't exist as a concept. My body is stolen. It's taken everything, even my name, even my identity, everything I love.

The thought should have made Kris want to cry. But like last time, they couldn't even control their eyes, where they looked, how they blinked. Their throat didn't even tighten. It was pointless to even want it, so they let their feelings numb and freeze into nothingness. Something in them died when they did, but hollowness was better than pain.

"Thomas," or whatever the hell its name was, trudged to the bed. If Kris wasn't so numb, they would have paid more attention to the voice narrating the option to sleep. The strange visual hallucinations were unbelievably wrong. It was a piece of another reality grafted onto their own. All Kris could feel was dull surprise. It didn't matter in the slightest what happened to them anymore.

Because after all, they didn't exist anymore.

For the three second window where the world was black around them, Kris wondered if this was where they would die. If, now that every last bit of their identity had been conquered, it would mean that their soul would cease to exist. It wouldn't surprise them. In their stunned state, they didn't even particularly care. 

The world lit up again. Kris did not die. It seemed to be morning, impossibly enough. Their body was cold, despite the mound of blankets. Asriel's alarm was going off. Their sheets were twisted around them.  The sensations dug into Kris like nails in an open wound. Their body lurched out of bed and surveyed a menu of options. 

*Save

*Inventory

*Stats

*Log

Kris couldn't care less.

Asriel smiled at them. "Hey, Thomas. It's another lovely day."

Their head bobbed up and down. Their face stretched into a crude approximation of a smile. "Morning."

The thing piloting their body turned to the dresser. Clothes slithered against their hands. Cotton, denim, wool. Shades of muted colors, olive green and pale yellow, white and beige and black and grey. Nothing Kris was too attached to. They'd made sure of that. They hadn't let themself care about objects for years. 

"Morning, Thomas," Mom said cheerfully when they came down to breakfast. Dad was already sitting there, eating his oatmeal and reading the news, as he always did. He didn't seem mad. Kris remembered comforting Mom.  Didn't they comfort Dad, too? How did that happen? The words save and reload flickered to mind. It…

Didn't they feel time split? 

It already was so confusing. They weren't smart enough to parse it, they decided. It didn't matter. If it happened, their parents certainly didn't show signs of it now. It must not have happened. Things were already so weird. Their memories being wrong was just another part of the wrongness. 

"Did you sleep well, honey?"

The thing piloting them nodded. It shoveled more oatmeal into their mouth. The food was unbearably bland to Kris, and the texture was gross, but they couldn't choke on it at all. Sensation seemed to be sharpened to an exquisitely fine point. It hurt. 

"Good." Dad glanced at Mom. "I worry about him. So much has happened."

"He is right here and he answered you. If he says that he is fine, then he is."

"Why wouldn't he be fine?" Asriel said. When Kris' eyes flicked to him, he was shoveling down his food as usual. The fondness they felt stabbed at them. He was the same, always. "Thomas is always fine."

The conversation sped up. Kris couldn't even fully register what their family was saying. They got the sense some choice was being presented. They couldn't possibly decode what was picked. Things went black. All of a sudden, they were at school.

Kris had experienced the sensation before. It wasn't terrifying. They had no emotion to be terrified with, anyway. 

Time passed in a blurred haze. Some things repeated. Some things stayed the same. Most things that happened barely registered with them. It was hard to… make themself care, especially since things were rewritten. A conversation with Asriel ended abruptly, only to catapult to the beginning again. Time peaked and sloped and broke around them. Kris rode its nauseous stream for a while. They couldn't say how long it took. 

A handful of things stuck out to them. Asriel's relationship value, whatever it was, kept climbing, and those scenes weren't rewritten. They kept fetching things for Mom, and that wasn't rewritten either. Once they bullied Snowdrake. Another time they threw a rock at Susie, the school bully. Those actions both made a few numbers plummet. Kris could grasp the edges of a system, but they couldn't quite parse it out. It would have concerned them if there weren't so many other things to process.

Sunset outside. Dinner on the table. Their dad was smiling. Their mom wasn't. Night would soon fall. The snow outside the window was crisp and cold, and although logically they should have been warm, Kris' body still felt like ice.

*Save

*Reload

*Quit

The voice narrated it. A choice was made. Liquid blackness poured over and slid around them. Blessedly, it was silent. They were no longer cold.

For a good while, Kris relaxed in the stillness. They couldn't feel their body anymore. Maybe they didn't have one. If this was death, they didn't mind very much. It was so much better than the constant sensation they felt before. Their fear ebbed. It was a relief not to think or feel.

Disconnected from their body, disjointed from time and space, the shock of it all faded. Kris picked through their feelings carefully. The amount of pain they felt was crushing, but… it was stupid to hurt so badly over losing their identity. It seemed an inevitability. A last logical step, completing what they'd been doing to themself over several years. They'd tried so hard to be perfect. Now this thing could be perfect.

Apathy was so, so easy. Kris knew that in stories, souls and people usually ended with a bang. People fought and begged and wept for their lives. But Kris' soul surrendered with not even a whimper. There was no voice to whimper with. 

I can't be trusted to make my own choices. So, this better version of me will make them for me. It could be a good thing. And they laughed, bitterly, voicelessly. If anyone had heard that laugh, they would have heard the distinct creak of Kris' sanity finally cracking. I shouldn't have looked at this with so much horror. I'm finally exactly what my family will love, without the pain I've felt these last years. So what if it comes with video game dialogue and a weird voice and someone overriding who I am? It's just how things are now. Why shouldn't it be this way? Why shouldn't I be happy with it?

Like I ever deserved to be happy.

They laughed again. Something in them -- call it hope, call it emotion -- snapped its ties from their soul and floated away. Kris didn't care at all. Less feelings meant less pain.

Time started again after an indeterminate amount of not-time passed. It was easier for Kris then. Morning came. The cold didn't freeze their fingertips this time. It was like nothing could touch them. Even Asriel using the wrong pronouns couldn't sting. Emptiness was bulletproof because it simply swallowed all bullets that came its way. It was all so much easier like this; why didn't Kris do it earlier? 

And… it helped people. Thomas. That day, and every day after that. He was better at being them, as they'd always suspected. He made the people they loved happy. He never said anything wrong. Or, if he did, he erased it, and started over. Kris didn't need to exist; he was doing so much better at it than they ever did. After that first week (maybe? Kris could never exactly tell how much time was passing) he never antagonized anyone again. The relationship values in the corner of their eyes, tagged with the names of every person they knew, just kept climbing. Eventually Kris derived a strange sort of happiness from it. Eventually, the emptiness gave way to fragile peace.

He helped Dad make sales at the shop. He fetched things for Mom. He became closer with Noelle. He befriended Susie, the school bully. He was the protagonist in a game, after all. He was perfect.

"I… I always wanted to be perfect," Asriel cried one evening. It was the beginning of February. He was sprawled on the couch. He was crying out the aftermath of a breakup. Thomas was holding his hand. "You know?"

Thomas nodded. His hair didn't brush his shoulders anymore. He'd cut it recently and dyed it red. Kris missed it, as they missed a lot of things. But it was… nice. Nice that they didn't have to choose anymore. They'd come to realize that. The hollow space in them still ached. They ignored it.

"I needed everyone to love me. I… I can't deal with the idea of not being loved. When you were hurting a while ago, I couldn't -- could help you. I was scared you wouldn't love me if I couldn't actually help you."

*You don't have to be perfect to be loved.

*You're an idiot.

The first one was absolutely a lie, but Kris didn't say that. Not that they could control anything well enough to speak.

"You don't have to be perfect to be loved," Thomas said. "I already love you. You're my brother. And if she couldn't see that, she's dumb."

"Thanks," Asriel sniffled. "But I hated myself for it, you know? I'm spineless. At my heart, I've always been spineless. God, I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"You're not spineless."

"I am. I'm a coward. And I cry way too easily, and I… I can't be everything she wanted. I can't be all that everyone wants."

*You can't. And that's okay.

*You already are.

"You can't and that's okay. You don't have to please everyone."

Thomas was better at talking to people than Kris had ever been. But the sound effect buzzed, and Asriel looked upset. Instantly time rewound.

*You can't and that's okay.

*You already are.

"You already are. To everyone that matters, at least. Even if you are a coward." Thomas punched Asriel lightly. "You're my big bro. And you're the best big brother I could ever want."

Finally a smile. "Thanks."

"Don't change yourself, all right? I think you're great."

"I-I'll try." Asriel hugged him. Kris soaked the sensation up. Even a flawed, forgotten ghost of a person wanted to feel sort of loved sometimes. They hoped Thomas understood how lucky he was. "You're the best little brother ever."

Black screen. Interface. Asriel's relationship value went up. Kris was pretty certain by this point that their world was a video game. If it wasn't one in the literal sense, with code and everything, Thomas and entities like him -- Kris was imagining it to be sort of Lovecraftian, with eldritch creatures looking in on their world from a higher dimension -- interacted with the world through some lens that made it seem like it was. Kris had dubbed them Players. It seemed appropriate.

Kris probably wasn't supposed to exist or even be aware of what was happening, come to think of it. Maybe they were just a glitch. It was funny what a person can come to accept, given enough time and conditioning. They were simply lucky that Thomas was nice. It would have been awful if they were fully aware of everything and he was out to hurt people. As it was, he was a better Kris than Kris was. They were a flawed prototype; he the perfect and shining model. The hollow spaces in them still ached when they thought about it.

Mom. Getting her relationship stat to max out led to her becoming more optimistic, less anxious and harsh. She smiled more often. Told Thomas and Asriel and Dad more often that she was proud of them. Won Teacher of the Year. 

Dad. His flower shop prospered. Thomas performed a lot of fetch quests to get him to start selling more. Played so many minigames getting the flowers to sprout. Lots of harsh noise, and Kris hated it, but the results were worth it. Dad was so happy. So pleased with his own efforts. He gave away flowers still, but his kindness didn't prevent him from blooming and growing as a successful shop owner.

Noelle Holiday. She grew so much more confident in herself. She was always kind and polite, but it became more uninhibited over time. She grew braver. During one memorable adventure with several other kids, she fought off a bear using a stick and her wits, with Thomas' help of course. She was frightened, but she told Thomas that she wasn't about to let her friends be hurt. Kris gained new respect for her that day.

Susie, the town bully. Admitted that she had issues at home. Sometimes fought with Thomas. Foulmouthed and short tempered, but loyal. She stopped being so much a bully. 

Ms. Alphys. Thomas engineered a very cute romance between her and Officer Undyne. Kris silently cheered it on. It was nice, seeing her happy.

Asriel became the town's shining star, of course. There was no reason for him not to be. He had always been the best and brightest person Kris knew. He excelled in every sport, shined on the school leadership council. Girls and guys and nonbinary people alike swooned over him. He was friends with everyone. Kris admired him immensely. The hollow place burned with jealousy.

More and more people, a whole town's worth. The months passed by and they were insanely busy. Thomas was always running around, always helping people, always delivering fetch quests. Always smiling. Kris ignored that it was a poor approximation of such. What did it matter when everyone loved him?

It was in the middle of June. Kris' fourteenth birthday had passed recently, but nobody acknowledged it. They didn't care much.  Thomas had just gotten in bed. He opened up the menu.

*Save

*Reload

*Quit

He quit. Kris anticipated the warm, liquid blackness they'd grown used to. It was relaxing. Their soul sometimes felt warmer, which was nice. But in their ears, a loud noise sounded. A distorted song. Intermixed glitching screams. Their vision hazed green and red and blue for a second. Pixels danced. They had barely enough time to wonder what was happening before they were slammed into their body.

A thousand points of sensation lit up. Kris' mental barriers had been so thorough up until this point that they'd stopped noticing all but the most basic sensations. Now it was all so overwhelming. Pajamas sliding against their skin. The slightly colder skin at the bottom of their feet. The scents of flowers and dew and earth through the open window. Their head against the pillow. The faint light of the moon. The hum of appliances downstairs. Many more.

It was overwhelming and it hurt, all these senses. They'd forgotten how itchy some fabrics were. They'd forgotten so many things. Noise buzzed in their ears. The slight movement of air on their skin and the tags on their clothes were all overwhelming. They tried not to cry out. It came out as a strangled hiccup. They clutched at their head, but the sensation of hair against their fingers just made it worse. Air rushed in and out of their lungs. It hurt. The whole world was painful.

Kris curled up on their side. Please, make it stop. Come back. I don't like this. You can have my body back now, please. Tears stung their cheeks. They were only vaguely aware that they were hyperventilating. Every bit of sensation was acutely painful. Come back. Come back. My heart isn't beating. It means you'll come back eventually, right? Right? 

They never thought they would yearn for autonomy to be stripped away again. They'd hated every time it happened before. But now, all they wanted was darkness. There was way too much feeling involved with existing.

The distorted noises rang in their head again. Kris whimpered and hugged their knees closer. Whatever glitch in the system this was, it was awful. They'd thought themself bulletproof. Now, stripped of any defending apathy, all they could do was curl up and whimper, like a weak and useless child. Pathetic. They were supposed to be so much stronger than this.

I accept it already, okay? I'm not supposed to be here. My existence just hurts people. Stop punishing me. I've already accepted that I'm not supposed to want anything! I get it! I'm flawed and bad and disappointing and… And…

And you've won your game. Apathy flowed over them again. It was a relief. I don't even care what happens to me anymore. So please, take me back. Let me be disconnected again. Let me die, if that's what you want. I don't care.

The turmoil inside them ceased. Slowly, their spine uncurled. They rested their cheek against the pillow and let it soak up the last of their tears. Sensation no longer crushed them, and every breath came a little easier. This was what comfort felt like, right? This numbness, like a dislocated limb. So much better than agony. Hollowed out again, Kris couldn't help but think that nonexistence really was the best choice. They'd forgotten how badly every breath could hurt.

So when darkness closed around them, they welcomed it, in the deep hollows of their heart. Their body drifted away and shifted into motion. Kris let it.

There was no reason to fight back.

Chapter Text

"Yeah," Asriel beamed. "I'm not sure what I'm studying yet, but I'm excited."

Mr. Holiday grinned back. Even in the near-sunset light of the backyard, the dark circles under his eyes were incredibly prominent. "Well. You're a smart boy. You'll go far in life, that's for sure." He clapped Asriel on the shoulder. "Five thousand dollars in scholarship money is certainly nothing to sneeze at!"

"Yeah. Yeah, it isn't." 

Mr. Holiday moved on, and Asriel took a moment to assess the mood. Happy. Proud. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the food and chatting and looking at Dad's flowers. A good party so far. Not necessarily his speed -- he preferred more dancing and general chaos, not this genteel adult chatting -- but considering that this party was more for his family's benefit, he couldn't complain. It was kind of nice to have all this proud attention from adults. Really nice, actually. 

"Oh my god, Azzy." Catty tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. He realized suddenly that he'd just been standing by a tree with his cup in his hand, like an idiot. "Hey. You look, like, super nice tonight."

"Oh, um. Thanks. You too."

She giggled like he'd told an amazing joke. "Well, of course I do, silly! It's, like, your party. I've gotta give you a nice send off. And like, make you think of our old flame and stuff."

Asriel smiled, a genuine one. "What, you mean our five minute face eating session at prom earlier this year? I'm not sure that exactly counts as an old flame."

"Well, if you don't think so, fine. But remember how your mom like, totally freaked out? It's a good story."

"Right. That was funny."

It hasn't been at the time. He'd been grounded for weeks. But if nothing else, it had made a good story, and if he embellished the details when telling it, well, it was nobody's business. A little extra attention in exchange for mild lies was a good trade.

"It was!" she agreed. "And your little brother was like, such a dork about it. He told me that he would like, totally ruin my life if I messed with you. It was sort of creepy. I felt like the world like, stopped for a bit around me when he said that. And he doesn't even have any magic, I think."

"He did? I didn't know that."

"Yeah. He totally did. You should like, have a talk with him before you leave. Cause he sort of ruined any chance I had with you." She pouted, whiskers twitching. "I really wanted you to be my boyfriend, you know? Cause you're the cool funny jock guy. And now you're leaving and we can't have that."

Asriel winked. "There's an abandoned treehouse in the woods, you know. Good for some privacy. I won't tell if you don't."

She giggled. Her paws came up to cover her mouth. A bit of a flush was visible, even under her thick fur. "Oh my god, you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" 

He relished the effect he was having on her. It was cute to see how flustered she was. He didn't like her much, romantically speaking, but toying with her was always fun. His smile grew even more as she struggled to find words.

Finally, she lightly slapped his shoulder. "You're such a flirt! Seriously, quit messing with people like that. It's unfair. You're all hot and popular and stuff. It's made you a total creep!"

He winked again. "Yeah, but a hot one."

"Shut up! Oh my god. You should have stayed an ugly loser like you were in middle school. I should have known better than to talk to the most popular guy in town. You're just a player who wants to manipulate people."

He laughed. "I'm not that bad, am I? I'd like to think I'm not a total jerk."

"You are." She pouted again. "I'm gonna eat some cake. Go have fun at college, or whatever. I'm sure you'll do good and have lots of girlfriends and boyfriends and stuff. And like, win awards for sports."

"Sure. You stay out of trouble."

"Ew, and now you sound like my dad. Moment totally over."

She walked off. The music on the radio fuzzed out, and then resumed. Asriel took a sip of his punch. He looked over the small group again, scanning face after face. Kids from his high school. Their parents. His parent's friends. Mom and Dad, sitting in a group and discussing something. He didn't see Thomas, though. Maybe he was in the bathroom? 

Like his thoughts had summoned him, Asriel's brother appeared nearby. He grinned, teeth gleaming brightly, kaleidoscopic eyes dancing in the dimming light. "You're quite the man of the hour."

Asriel's eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because for half a second, it seemed like an electric green filter coated everything. It faded quickly. Asriel tried to gather his thoughts. "Everyone wants a piece of me for a souvenir, it seems. It's nothing new." 

Thomas cocked his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

"Of course I do," he laughed. "It's just kind of a lot sometimes."

"Mm. Hey. I gotta tell you something."

"Yeah, what is it?"

Thomas leaned in. This close, his eyes were strangely dull despite the refracting colors. "I'm proud of you. Really. You were the absolute best."

Asriel laughed, startled. "Thanks."

"I mean it! I'm glad we're brothers. It's nice having someone so good near me. I feel like you're going to be the most successful, most amazing person in the world."

Asriel smiled back. Thomas was always so positive. "Well, I wouldn't be anything without my little bro, now would I? You're the best." 

He reached out and ruffled the red hair. It felt like Thomas should have ducked away. Didn't they hate it when people touched their scalp before--?

No, that was wrong. Asriel dismissed it as a false memory. Thomas had always been like this. He'd always laughed playfully, with that note catching in his voice. Whatever Asriel was thinking, it was wrong. That was all there was to it. No reason to think otherwise.

No reason at all.

Thomas laughed. "Yeah. You're right."

The smile was a little too wide, but Asriel matched it, smiling wide too. "Hey. I mean it. I feel like… like you being in my life changed me a lot. For the better. I never would have been the person I am today. I can't explain it, but you really made me who I am…"

He trailed off, realizing how cliché it was, and laughed again. "Et cetera, et cetera. You probably don't want to hear that canned stuff. Still, for what it's worth. I love you and I'm lucky to have you as my sibling." 

"Love you too." His eyes suddenly flashed different colors and went dark. Asriel looked away, listening to the tinny music. This happened sometimes. It was fine. That was just how things had always been.

When Asriel looked back, he was gone, as if he had never been there. Asriel shrugged, finishing his cake in silence.

(There was something… something he wasn't remembering. Something vital. He tried to think on it in the spaces outside of the strange music on the radio, but all he got was static, and maybe if he tried a bit harder he would--)

"Everyone," Mom said, loud enough to cut across the suddenly-softer music. "May I have your attention."

Asriel turned to look at her. She was standing up from her spot, easily seen from almost everywhere in the yard. Her voice was strong. "I would like to thank everyone for coming. I'm glad that all of you support my son so very much. He truly is this town's brightest star, and at the risk of embarrassing him, I'd like to tell everyone how very proud I am of him."

Her eyes found him. "Asriel, you have grown into such a fine young man. And when you are halfway across the country, studying whatever you choose to study, I hope you hold true to the principles your father and I have taught you. I hope you remain kind and brave and sensitive and determined to do good, as you have always been. No matter what you do. I am proud of you."

Dad stood up, and Asriel could tell that he was already close to tears. His voice wavered and cracked in the words. "So am I. There is so much I admire about you, son. You are such a supportive older brother and caring child. I wish every parent would be so lucky as to have children like ours."

"Aww, Dad," Asriel said.

"I mean it. I remember when you were a little boy. We had just adopted Thomas, and he would run around everywhere and fall often. You cried so much every time Thomas would get hurt. Once I found you crying in his room next to his crib as he slept. I asked you, what's wrong? And in tears, you replied. 'He's having a bad dream. I don't want to wake him up because that's bad, but I wish I could hold his hand in his dreams.'"

Dad started to cry in earnest. There was something so odd and touching about it. Dad was such an enormous monster; seeing him moved to tears gave Asriel the sense of something unbearably precious. Mom, apparently sensing it too, held Dad's hand.

 "You had such a sympathetic heart. It's what I will miss about you. It's no wonder everyone loves you. There is so much about you to love." He sniffled. "I will miss you, son. More than I can say. And I'm prouder of you than anything can express."

"Me too," Thomas suddenly piped up. He was at Asriel's elbow again. "It will suck to have you gone."

Asriel smiled at him. "Yeah, but the town will still have you, won't it? You can be awesome in my stead. In fact, you already are awesome."

His head grew muzzy for a second, as if he'd stood up too fast. Warm feelings of love and joy raced through him even as his stomach clenched. The music drowned out his father's soft crying. He turned to the crowd, voice coming out a little too loud. "Hey. While we're celebrating, why don't we celebrate Thomas? He made this all possible. He's helped us all out in so many ways."

"He like, brought me all those snack cakes!" Bratty said.

"Yeah. And helped me be more confident." Noelle Holiday said. Her colors seemed brighter than before. The whole world did, in fact, as if someone had dialed the brightness up. "I owe him a lot."

"He helped me find my lost kitty!"

"And made this town cleaner by picking up all that trash."

More and more voices chimed in, but Asriel wasn't listening. The muzzy feelings grew stronger. He focused on his brother, that warm plastic smile with sharp white teeth. No braces. Should he have braces? Asriel couldn't remember.

(A part of him knew that it was wrong. He was forgetting something, he was forgetting something so very important--)

No, this is how things are supposed to be, he told himself. His parents were chiming in on cue now, delivering their lines with perfect accuracy. They weren't focusing on dumb things like multicolored eyes and sharp, sharp teeth. That smile was fine. That smile was normal. His brother was perfect as he was. If the world felt two-dimensional, so what? This was… this was his reality. Even more soft and warm feelings washed over him. Pride, fraternal affection.

Exactly on cue, Asriel grinned down at his brother. "See? Everyone is proud of you. You've done everything right."

He clasped Thomas' shoulders. They were hard edged under his hands. The pixels were cold and sharp to the touch, he was finding. He held on despite himself. "In fact, Thomas, I'm turning this town over to you. In my absence, I know you'll make everything better and better. Everyone loves you, after all. You've succeeded in everything."

White pixels, dancing in pale teeth. The smile grew more and more plastic by the moment. Asriel blinked once to clear his vision, and continued. "So. From the bottom of my heart, for everyone in this town. Thank you. You are truly worthy of being called the best."

Music swelled. Asriel closed his eyes, job finally done. His hands felt cold. His heartbeat grew shallower in his ears. Cheers rang out, and he participated, but his vision was getting dimmer and dimmer. The eight-bit music filled his ears until all thought was obliterated. The world bled out around him. Mercifully, the final traces of apprehension lifted away. When the words THE END appeared, all he felt was relief. He fell into the darkness and did not rise again.

***

Kris considered the words. An ending. Now that it was over, the Player would probably leave their body. No more effortlessly earning love. No more shelter against the world. They wanted to draw their knees up against their body, but there was no body to move, not in this void. There was only blackness and the bright words on the screen.

So, they thought dully. I guess this is it. Thanks, Thomas, if that is actually your real name. I'm glad I got out of pretending for a year.

No response. Maybe he had logged off.

It was nice, seeing Azzy so happy. I hope he's happy at college, too. I hope he forgets about me and never sees me. I wouldn't want to disappoint him. I will miss him, though.

The words on the screen changed. Kris watched with mild interest.

Would you like to restart the game?

*Yes

*No

Restart? Kris hadn't realized that was an option. It would erase all this progress. They would be weird and unliked again, Azzy wouldn't be popular, Mom and Dad wouldn't be as happy, the flower shop would be failing. They'd have to live an entire year exactly the same again. The thought was depressing. It would be pretty boring.

Better than being themself again, they supposed.

* Yes.

The world went blank.

Chapter Text

You don’t have backbone enough to tell your customers that you’re running a business.

Asgore turned those words around in his mind as he would handle a thorny plant. His hands were clenched into fists. He hadn't felt so angry over unreasonable things for years. It was just a small fight, and not even a very serious one; the shop was in no real danger, after all. Yet, the thought circled his mind over and over.

How dare she treat me like a child.

Toriel did that so often. She was far smarter than he was; it made sense that she would sometimes get wrapped up in her own head and forget he wasn't one of her students. But it stung every single time. He was an adult, not some wayward five-year-old. He was her spouse , for the Angel's sake, shouldn't she treat him as an equal--

He got up off the bed and paced, trying to work off some of the restlessness. He tried to breathe. It helped to imagine that he was in the greenhouse, and so he did. It was a much calmer environment than this cold bedroom. He imagined himself tending his golden flowers. They were K̵̹̟͕̤̈̇̍͘r̴͚̜̠̃̕i̸̻͋͒ś̸̥̗̌̑̇'̴̬̇ ̸̧̼̪͖̇͒ḟ̷̠͝ǎ̸̙̯͊͝v̷̲͓̄̓o̴̢͔̭͚r̶̥̜̗̞̐̅̕ì̴͔t̶̺̅͒͋é̷͙̂

They were nobody's favorite in particular. He just liked them. They were vibrant and hardy. Unlike certain people in the house, they appreciated any effort he put into cultivating them. 

"Dad?"

Thomas' voice. Asgore exhaled, trying to rein in his emotions. He squeezed his fists one last time. His face was a close enough approximation of calmness when he opened the door. "Yes, son?"

Thomas looked… different than he should. Odd. He hadn't always had red hair. Or eyes like that. Memories jumped and skittered through Asgore's mind like startled mice, fleeing before he could pin any of them down. He had the odd thought, it wasn't like this at all last time . Before he could parse out what precisely his mind could mean, his son spoke.

"She's wrong." His voice was full of emotion, but something about it hit wrong. It had a strange quality to it, something Asgore wasn't meant to hear. "It takes more backbone to stick to your morals than not."

"Oh." Slightly taken aback, Asgore opened the door wider. Thomas' voice deeply unsettled him for some reason. He felt like he needed to escape. "You overheard our argument? I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you. But you… agree with me?"

There was a short pause. The space of that pause was filled with unbearable wrongness, but Asgore couldn't look away from his child. He was rooted in place, staring into those eyes.

"You deserve better than to be treated like a kid. You're my dad. I think it's good that you stick to your morals. Helping people is better than money, anyway. Mom is dumb for thinking otherwise."

Asgore nodded helplessly. It was a manufactured movement, an obligation, and he felt more than ever that something was amiss. That voice, though… something in it affected him deeply. The anger he had been suppressing rose as easily as blood from a cut. "I am glad you think so, but…"

He grasped for the words. "But she is your mother, and it is wrong for you to speak badly of her. This is a private argument, son."

Thomas tilted his head to the side. The movement reminded Asgore of early CGI. "Shouldn't a kid support their father?"

Asgore stared. Something in that statement struck him as deeply wrong. Manipulative. It--

Reality splintered.

"This is a private argument, son."

"Sorry. I just think it's cool that you want to be so kind even at your own expense. It's too bad Mom doesn't feel the same way."

What was that? What was wrong in the world? Reality was still reforming around him. He could see hard-edged squares making up the world. Something was underlying this world, something vital, and he nearly grasped it. And just like that, it was gone once again.

The anger grew. Asgore couldn't help but frown because of it. "Your mother does not, ah, always understand that doing the right thing is better than turning a profit. It is a shame, really. Kindness is important, even when it comes at your own cost."

"Right. It really is."

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" It was a desperate bid for some control. "Young men should probably get plenty of sleep."

"Of course. Good night, Dad."

He was gone as quickly as he appeared. Asgore retreated into his room again. The odd feelings evaporated. Thomas was right, after all. Toriel simply didn't understand feelings the way he did. 

When Toriel came in for the night, Asgore pointedly ignored her. He was looking up seed catalogues, considering what to plant next. Orchids, maybe. He had never grown them before. His floral arrangements were always beautiful, but even he could admit that they were made from very common flowers. Customers paid a lot for orchids. Maybe it could draw in more wealthy clients. He never felt bad about charging those who had plenty of money. (He ignored the fact that he rarely, if ever, charged the Holidays.)

"What are you doing?" Toriel asked him.

"Reading. Is a man not allowed to read now?"

"Don't snap at me. It was a question."

"'Don't snap at me?' That is a bit hypocritical."

She was clearly offended, and it only spurred his anger at her. Thomas's words echoed in his mind. It takes more backbone to stick to your morals than not. Asgore clung to that idea like a weapon. She was the one who was wrong. She had to be. Otherwise…

Otherwise what? The script would fall apart?

Again, he had no time to determine the nature of that thought. Toriel's angry voice cut away all distractions. "I did not want to argue any more tonight. But if you must push me--"

"I am not pushing you into anything, Toriel. You started it with that tone of yours. I hate it when you talk to me as if I am a child!"

"I do not treat you like a child!"

"Yes! Yes, you do! You are doing it now! Listen to yourself!"

They were shouting again, Asgore realized, and he made a conscious effort to lower his voice. It came out more like an angry hiss. "I am a grown man and you still take that tone with me. I do not often get angry, but you infuriate me. You clearly do not see me as an equal."

"I don't see you as an equal? Then why are you the one who never consults me in your decisions?" She got off the bed and grabbed her pajamas from a drawer. Her back was ramrod-straight. "I tell you nearly everything. What I am considering doing, what our budget is, what I plan to do in coming weeks. I value your input, though I never need it. And you never extend me the same courtesy! You continue to spend money we do not have and give away your livelihood and go places with the children without telling me!"

"Yes, because I do not think it is necessary. Not everyone talks as much as you do. I was certain you understood the situations without me explaining everything to you. It is still the same issue of you treating me as a child! I can understand things without you telling me absolutely everything! And I can make my own decisions without needing your guidance!"

Toriel was silent for a brief moment. Finally, she said, "If you understand so well, why do you continue to give away flowers so much?"

"You're unbelievable," Asgore said. He dragged his hands through his hair, trying to contain the anger. "You're unbelievable! Just because you explain things does not mean I have to agree with them completely! I understand perfectly well what you say! I simply refuse to be the sort of person you are!"

He hadn't meant to say that, but it was true. Toriel was exactly the type of person he tried hard not to be. She did not care if people suffered financially, so long as business did well. He did what he did for the simple love of it, and cultivated because it brought him and others joy. Toriel simply helped children so her own children could grow. In the moment, under the crushing (unnatural?) anger, he felt as if she was the antithesis of everything he had ever stood for. 

She was wrong, about him being spineless. He had more backbone than she ever would. At least he stood up for his dreams.

"The sort of person I am?" She was very quiet. "Please explain."

He readied an answer.

T̵͈͍̏̉͌̔̾̚̕ḧ̵͕̫̞͚͕͉̰̺́̊́͗̾̈͜ę̸͈͓̙̮̮̅̍̂͑͐̓ ̸͍͖͕̞͚͔̖̰͓̲̀̇͒̋w̶̡̧͙̗̜̪͚͋̎̚o̷̢͙̯͉̫̾̅̉̍̈̉̈̈́͘r̸̺̔͐̅́͗̈́̌͠l̴̻̼̮͌̉̓̽̂̋͆͐̈́͒̅͠d̷͇̩̮̃̌͘͝ ̸̧͕̌̏̎̌͜g̷̭͚̖͇͓͊l̶̡̨̛̖͍̹̗̠͇̑̃̃́̄͆͝ͅȋ̸̛̗̤͕̺̦̼͑̏͊͒͒͑͒͐͛̕t̷̢̲͔̞̺̗͖̭̜͇̣̳͓͖͜c̸̹̰̹̫͚̬̦͚͇̟̙̩̝͓̯̀̑̏̇͌̆͆͠h̶̢̢̨̯͎̞͇̪̜̥̹͂̌͜ḝ̸̨̛̣͎͙̬͍̙̖̥͙̬͚̣̾̈́̌̇ḋ̶͇͎̮͚̗̳̤͈̦̲ͅ.̴̡̘̬̼̩̱̮̪͈͐̈́̐͠͝ͅ

...

"No," he said. "I do not think I will. I am going to bed."

"Asgore--"

"We are both tired," he said. "Just leave me alone. We both have work in the morning."

He was spent. The anger had disappeared suddenly, replaced by a dull exhaustion. The world around him was more solid now. The fight suddenly seemed a bit silly. It was annoying, yes, but they would both get over it. They always did.

Toriel's mouth thinned. She looked away. Still, she sounded so much more like herself when she said, "Fine. We can talk about this later."

The two of them didn't say a word to each other the rest of the night.

***

Something must have been wrong with Asgore's vision, for he kept seeing odd things. His living room would crackle with static, then reappear. Sometimes his golden flowers had faces. A pair of hands would appear in the corner of his eye, then disappear when he tried to look. And always, whenever he was trying to do something vital, Thomas would appear at his elbow. Thomas always helped, of course. He gave words of advice and a helpful hand with the flowers. The uneasy feelings he always brought nearly always faded after he left. It was fine.

Asgore chalked the oddness up to lack of rest. He hadn't slept well lately. It was strange; he and Toriel had rarely fought at all in their many years of marriage, but now, he found himself arguing with her nearly every night. There was always something. The way she was strict with Asriel. How he wore his hair. The dishes left unwashed in the sink. The constant irritation left him worn out and dissatisfied. What was wrong with her -- with both of them?

It was like something was wrong about the house. He had never really ascribed to the idea of lingering energies, but now, he was starting to wonder. A whole day could pass peacefully in his shop. He would tend to the new orchids he ordered, arrange orders, talk to anyone who came in the shop. And then, he would walk in the front door at home, and everything would change. It was like something unnatural walked those halls. Like the old ghost stories that K̴̼͍̇̌̍̂̌͠ͅr̷̢̭̱͇̮̝̝̫̝̪̳͖͍͉̟̐͘į̷̨̩̣̭͍͓̭̗̰̰̼̥̺̯̟̺͍̥͉͑͗̅̆͐̆̆͆̿̄s̵͚̱̥͉͗̓͐̿͆̕͝ ̴̨̖̟͓̞̤͈̮̬̟̪͍͉̣̩͓̰͎͔̳̔͒̾̒̉̽͒̍́̃̓̾͛̏͂̊̈̚t̵̡̨̢̧͖̞̝̬̜͚̺͇̣̩͙͇̜ͅǒ̶̩̣͙̦̈́̀̈̄̑̐̓̾̓̔̉̈́͑͗͆̈l̸̨̰̱̟̳̼̤̘͚͂̒̓̀̓̇͒͋́̓̈̅̀̒̓̂̔͗͠ḑ̷̧̛̺̞̱̟͉͓͚̣̺͓̩̻̙͕̻̟̪̋̍̈̃͐̊̀͛͛̎̇͘͘̚̚͝-̴͇͉̈́̾̓́͋̃-̸̡̪̜̦̦̭̗͕̳̟̳͔̱̾̀̂̓̓͠

Memories kept slipping his mind. He would swear he was on the edge of some great revelation. If he simply looked, he would discern the underlying order of the universe. An odd thing to think for a simple florist, but it was a thought he could not shake. If he managed to pin down the faces and hands in his peripheral vision, and rein in those runaway memories, he was certain he would find a truth nobody else had ever seen. The thought intrigued him as much as it scared him. 

He was busy. The flower arrangements for the funeral took many hours to create. He was responsible for sending off a beloved member of the community, after all. It seemed wrong to let even a few flowers be out of place. And, though he hated to admit it to himself, it was a point of pride. Let Toriel see how good he was at his job, despite their finances. It was unlike him to be spiteful, but he let himself be spiteful anyway. It would not hurt anyone.

After the funeral, which was beautiful, if a bit chilly, Snowdrake Sr. approached him. The smaller monster's face was brittle, but his smile was as real as it could get. "Thank you. The flowers… they were real nice. I don't think I can repay you. It.."

"It was no trouble," Asgore lied with a wave of his hand. "I am so sorry for your loss."

"I… I feel awful, ya know? Because this is exactly what she loved. She woulda loved to see all these pretty flowers. And now I can't even repay you at all--"

"You do not have to." Angel above, but Asgore was likely going to cry too if this continued. He had been close during the burial. He suddenly felt awful for all his pettiness. Here he was, arguing with his wife, when this man had lost his own. Asgore hadn't even made the arrangements beautiful out of altruism. "I understand."

"If there's anything I can ever do for ya, give me the word. I mean it. The town is lucky to have a nice guy like you."

"Thank--"

Thomas popped up, so suddenly that Asgore's heart lurched into the pit of his stomach. The teenager was appropriately somber in a black suit, and he looked ordinary as ever, but Asgore couldn't shake the fear closing its hands round his throat. There was something in the corner of his eye again. He didn't dare look. 

Did Thomas even leave footprints in the snow?

"Actually, there is something you can do for us," Thomas said, in his strangely emotive voice. He didn't seem to notice Asgore's sudden tension. "Azzy wants to get a stage built at school."

"Oh. It would be my honah to help you kiddos out, then. You know, I… I used to be a pretty funny comedian back when I was young. Maybe I could be on that stage with ya sometime." 

Thomas chuckled. His eyes slid over to Asgore. "Mom wants to talk to you. She seemed kind of upset."

And just like that, he was irritated again. What could she possibly want? "I will be over in a moment. Thank you, son."

As soon as he had his back turned to his son, he smoothed down his suit. It did not fit well -- he hadn't worn it in years -- but he suspected that he would find it uncomfortable anyway. The last feelings of fear ebbed away with that simple motion. He could not remember what he had found so scary. Instead, all that was left was swift-growing irritation. He crunched on through the snow.

Toriel was standing near the grave. She did not seem angry, but he knew his wife well. She was not the sort to start a scene in public. No, she just stood there, looking around, her expression somber. He tried to match her level of self-control, suspecting he wasn't doing it very well. His voice came out even enough. "Toriel."

She turned to him. "I saw something during the funeral. And it made me worry. I want to know what you think."

"Why do you care what I think?"

A frown crept onto her face. Her tone turned sharper. "If you do not want to know, fine. I noticed, well. Asgore, how long have Thomas' eyes been that color?"

He tried to think. He couldn't. "What color?"

"I do not know. I cannot define it. But… listen. I know it sounds odd. But my chest hurts as if I am missing something. Things have not always been like this."

"Someone died, Toriel. That emotion, I believe, is called grief."

Exasperation. "See! You never used to do this. You were never sarcastic with me before. I did not think you even had it in you to be sarcastic, much less unkind."

He rubbed his head. A headache was growing. She was so aggravating. "Fine. If you say so. You are missing something. Did you misplace it somehow?"

"No. I did not." She folded her arms. "But if you insist, I will be silent about my problems. Like you are. Would that help?"

He couldn't help it. "You are such a child."

Toriel's gaze was steely. Her mouth snapped shut. She turned from him, a silent dismissal. 

A few static snowflakes fell down before his eyes, then disappeared, strange enough that he had to blink. The irritation vanished. Toriel may have had a point. Things were odd lately. Still, he had his pride. Admitting she was right felt like admitting defeat. He was left staring at her, her black clothes against the white snow, the solid binary of white fur and black dress. Something solid. Something real.

Asriel nudged him. "Dad, Mom. Are you guys ready to go home?"

He blinked again, trying to erase the persistent shadows in his periphery. Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked. "Of course. Are you?"

"Yeah. I'll find Thomas."

Asgore glanced at his wife again, but she was not looking at him. She still had her back turned, her arms still crossed. Her head was tilted up. She was looking away from him, straight into the sky. It was a flawless blue. No sign of clouds anywhere at all. Nowhere for snow to fall from.

Chapter Text

The creature in the road was indescribable. In the headlights of the police car, it was a corkscrewing monstrosity of feathers and scales, wings and tail and beaks and teeth. Limbs were disconnected and yet oddly connected, as a magic weapon would be invisibly tethered to its monster. Blood flecked the ice where it had fallen. All these captured a few ideas of what it looked like, but none of them encapsulated it completely. There were parts of it the eye simply skipped over, unable to process. It would be terrifying to find out how it moved. Fortunately, it was still.

"This is the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Officer Undyne was saying, shaking her head. She prodded the monstrosity with a blue spear. The spear flickered. "Hey! What the hell?"

The thing was flickering too, rearranging its pieces. The impossible bits flew about. It was like holes had been punched in the fabric of reality. An uncanny screech rose in the air, and then deadened. It settled again in a different configuration.

"What the hell," she repeated. She looked shocked. "Is it alive? You said it was dead."

"It should be dead," Asriel said. His fingers were going numb. He'd been standing there for fifteen minutes without a coat, waiting for her to arrive and deal with this. Normally, his fur would be enough to stave off the falling snow, but he'd been persistently ill for a while. He felt chilly even indoors some days. 

"Yeah, you don't say. Some kind of magic doing this? You playing a prank on me?"

"No, officer."

"You better not! I'd beat you into a pulp, punk!" She cracked her knuckles. Some color had returned to her face. When she grinned, rows of teeth bristled from her mouth. "Nobody has ever taken me on and won! So bring it on!"

"I didn't do it. I don't think anyone in town has magic enough to make something that horrible."

"I guess. Yeah, you're right." She poked the thing again. Nothing happened. "Huh. Maybe it is dead now. You said you hit it with your car? Was it like that when you hit it?"

"I honestly don't know. I didn't see it. I just heard the thump, saw it, and called the police."

Snow was falling. The flakes blew around like normal, but a few simply fell straight down, ignoring air resistance. They never fell on the dead creature, Asriel noticed. If Undyne saw it, she didn't comment on how weird it was. It was pretty dark; his eyes could have been playing tricks on him.

"Huh. Okay. Maybe some weird genetic mutation… or something. I don't know sh-- uh, crap about science. But that doesn't matter! I'll get it cleaned up! And file a report on those fancy new report documents we got!"

"Thanks."

"Oh, actually, wait a minute." Suddenly her face was serious. She looked him directly in the eye. "I don't get scared of anything, get it? I'm an officer of the law! But, this town has been awfully strange this month. Snow falling when there shouldn't be snow, and then it's gone the next morning. Things disappearing. People getting into weird accidents. You know? And if there's spooky magic going on, and you've seen it, maybe there's a mystery there. A mystery I can beat up! So if you have anything else to tell me, tell me right now."

The dread dormant in his belly coiled tighter. Half-erased memories fluttered about his mind. Something hard-edged in his grasp, bright music coming down sharp on his ears. Falling into endless darkness. A lack of footprints in snow. The volume of his parents' voices when they argued. The way things sometimes jumped and blurred in his vision. How his brother treated him these days. Asriel grasped at these disparate pieces, trying to turn them into something coherent, but like the creature laying dead at his feet, they were too scattered to make sense. He felt sicker the more he tried. Unaccountably, tears burned in his eyes.

"You okay, kid?"

She looked more concerned than she had any right to be. Did she think he was weird? Did she think there was something wrong with him? His voice came out strangled. "It's fine."

"Is someone hurting you? Did something bad happen?" Undyne demanded. 

"I- I- I'm, um. I'm okay. I'm just sick. I guess there's something going around." He forced a smile. He was blinking too much, he realized, and tried to stop. His chest hurt. 

"If someone is messing with you, I swear I'll beat them so hard they don't know what hit 'em!" She thumped her spear for emphasis. It flickered again. "Dammit!"

He thought of Thomas, waiting for him to get home. "No, it's okay. Nobody is hurting me. Things are just kind of weird. Like you said, the town has been sort of strange lately."

"You sure? You're absolutely certain?" 

He sensed she just wanted to fight someone. The thought was funny enough to banish his tears. He shook his head. "Thanks. But I swear there's nobody you can fight."

"Nothing I can do?"

"I promise I'm fine. I need to go home, actually. It's late."

"Fine. See you later, then, punk."

He got into his car. His hands were numb, and he fumbled a bit with the ignition. Turning the heat up high helped a little. It didn't fix the issue, but it made driving home more comfortable.

He could hear the raised voices from the porch. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, considering. The party was over, but he was sure he could find a friend who would let him crash on their couch. He could make up some story, say he had decided it would be fun to continue partying. He was popular enough these days that nobody would question that. Anything was better than staying in this house and listening to his parents air each other's inadequacies at the top of their lungs. Anything was better than facing his brother's barbed words.

He had to come home. He'd stayed away enough. With a sigh, Asriel resigned himself to reality. He grabbed the doorknob.

It vanished under his hand. He stared, trying to process. The wood of the door was patchy with color where the knob had been, but it simply wasn't there anymore. It couldn't have been vanishing or teleporting magic; that would have left a hole in the door where the doorknob was. It wouldn't have made the jangling bits of color that now covered the empty space. 

His head hurt more the longer he looked. He exhaled, the steam puffing away in the night air. Fine. They didn't have a doorknob now. That was okay. Whatever. He knocked instead.

His mom opened the door. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying angry tears. Still, she smiled at him. "Hi, honey."

"Hi, Mom." Asriel hoped his voice was level. He stepped inside and kicked off his shoes.

"Oh, get rid of the snow on those things before you put them away, please. And wear a coat next time. You look frozen solid."

"Stop picking at the boy, Toriel," Dad said from the couch. Asriel cringed internally at the edge in his voice. "He is not going to freeze."

"I know," she retorted. "It was advice."

Asriel quickly knocked the snow off onto the rug and stowed his shoes in the hall closet. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight. I love you."

Neither of his parents responded. They were glaring at each other. Asriel beat a hasty retreat. He could hear their voices rising again as soon as he was out of their sight.

"--can't believe you would do something like that--"

"I was trying to do what was best!"

Asriel shivered, still cold. Once, the constant fighting would have upset him much more, but the distress had bled out of it over time. He just wanted to climb into his bed and shut his ears to the sounds of his parents hating each other.

Thomas was sitting on his own bed when Asriel came in. His lines blurred, then resolved again, settling into the shape of a human teenager. Eye tricks again. Asriel's body tensed instinctively as Thomas gave him a once-over. The dread in him slithered up again. He remembered the real reason he hadn't wanted to go home. "You look ridiculous."

Asriel looked down at his outfit. Jeans, a plain black shirt, a hoodie. He didn't think it looked abnormal. "What's ridiculous about it?"

"Your haircut. It looks like a blind person--"  His voice cut out, stuttered, then resumed. "Hacked your fur off with a rusty gardening knife."

The words sent a jolt of shame straight to his belly. He ran a hand through his hair. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"It is," his brother said cheerily. "I'm surprised anybody likes you when you look like that."

Another ugly wave of shame. It pricked his already fragile feelings, prompting his throat to close and his eyes to sting. He turned his back to change into his pajamas. Surreptitiously, he wiped his eyes with his shirt as he took it off. It flickered with the wrong colors.

"Aww, hurt by that?" Thomas mocked. "Are you so used to girls calling you handsome that you can't handle someone telling you the truth about it?"

Silence.

"You always look like you haven't slept in a week. And you always act like you're about to cry. I'm completely shocked anyone likes you. You barely even have a personality outside of sports and parties."

Silence again.

"You know," Thomas continued. His voice was calm, but the malice underneath cut Asriel deep. "You spend so much time at those parties. Or at the track field. Or at someone else's house. Or at the library studying. Anywhere but here. Are you trying to avoid me?"

Along with the shame, a sudden spike of fear. The disappointment in Thomas' voice spelled trouble. Asriel said nothing. He fumbled with his pajama shirt. And still the awful voice spoke.

"You are. You flinch when you see me. Am I so awful, Azzy? Do you hate me?"

Again, silence.

"I think you do. Know what else I think? I think you're compensating for something. Being nice to so many people, making yourself indispensable to them, making everyone love you. If it wasn't you doing it, I would think it was altruism. But it isn't in your case. You just want someone to need you. Nobody here does."

It hit like a sucker punch. Asriel had to fight to suppress the tears now. He wanted, more than ever, to climb into bed and cover his ears. He was cold. He was tired. He was worn down by weeks of being treated like this. And, as much as he didn't want to be, he was afraid of the person on the other bed.

"And all those trophies you have. You take such good care of them. Do they make you feel better about yourself? Can't save our parents' marriage, so you've got to be the town's golden boy, is that it? And you're right. When it falls apart, everyone will give you sympathy. They'll pretend they don't know it was your fault."

"Stop it," Asriel said quietly. A tear slipped through his defenses. His teeth were clenched tight enough to hurt. Every beat of his heart was another strike against him. Thomas had never been so cruel before. "Please."

"I'm only telling you the truth."

Asriel knew that he was. If he hadn't run from every sign of trouble, if he had stuck around and soothed his parents more, their family wouldn't be broken like this. He needed to stop being a coward and running away from his consequences. Mom's hate, Dad's hate, Thomas' hate -- all of it stemmed from this, from him. The truth was like a burning hand round his throat.

The floor wobbled. Asriel's left knee clipped through the carpet. He didn't care. He couldn't hear the voices downstairs anymore.

He was completely alone with this.

"Here's another inconvenient truth," that horrible voice said. "One I bet you've never told anyone. You've hidden everything from all your friends anyway. Your insecurities, your fears, the way you cry like a little kid when you're alone. They only know the fake you. But I know this about you. I know the real you."

"Please--" Asriel choked out, hating his own cowardice. The sobs were tearing free now. "Please let me go--"

"The truth is, Azzy, I know that you want it to be over," the thing shaped like his sibling said mercilessly. Static spit and hissed through its words. "You want Mom and Dad to hurry up and split so you don't have to hurt anymore. It will be impossible to ever fix. But you want it to happen. You think it would be better than this awful fighting."

It scorched through him like nothing else ever had. Cut through him like the glitching carpet couldn't. His ears roared with terrible music. He felt like the creature on the road, unnatural, flayed open, wrong. His vision raged with static blackness. Thought ruptured under the pain. He was colder than he'd ever been. His heart beat a frantic rhythm. His lungs seized for any air, but there was no oxygen here. Nothing. Nothing at all. He'd never felt smaller in his life.

Time slowed. Pain dragged in every heartbeat.

He'd only consciously thought it a few times, was the thing. He'd always stuffed it away. He'd known how awful the wish was, and how weak he was for even thinking it. But it had lurked. Every harsh word, every glare his parents exchanged, it was there. Always present, always a half formed thought of this again? and when will it end? He'd never have laid the full thought out like Thomas did. But here it was, and its ugliness stripped Asriel down to the core. He couldn't deny it any longer.

He was an awful person.

"Most people would step in, but you? You would rather see them be miserable forever. You're too afraid of messing up. You'd rather just fail altogether. The only thing you've ever wanted was your family's happiness, but you know what? You ruined that. You were a coward. And now none of us need you anymore. You could disappear and nothing would change."

A hand cold as death landed on his shoulder. The particles of his clothing changed texture when it did. "Stop running away, Asriel. Look at me."  

Oh please, no more. Please. I can't handle being ripped open again. I can't stand to look.

He looked anyway.

It was hardly a face at all. Patches of it blurred into light. Underneath, bright eyes and sharp teeth and skin much too animated to be real. Its coloring blinked in and out, one moment flushed, the next sallow. Red hair, then brown. The body was made of clockwork numbers. It was a patchwork doll animated by invisible hands. It was pixels, it was static. It was a puppet for something awful. The pit of his stomach dropped. He couldn't breathe before, but now his lungs burned with every gasp. His mind was shorting out. He couldn't see straight anymore. It was like falling into the endless blackness again. Like dying. The watch face had been ripped off; he could see the horrible machinery beneath.

"When you leave for college, I'll be glad to see you go." The voice slithered under his skin and into the spaces between his joints. The floor under him was no longer real. His heart was going to burst. "I'm tired of seeing someone as pathetic as you overshadow me. Everyone thinks you're so brave. Everyone thinks I should be more like you. I would die before I would be more like you. You're pathetic. You're miserable. You're needy and disgusting and if the town knew the truth, they would hate you too. We're better off without you. I--"

Static killed its words. The room fuzzed. The earth jolted. Suddenly, the skin was real again, and the eyes looking into his no longer wanted to swallow him up. The hand on his shoulder was still cold, but it was alive. There were tears running down the cold cheeks.

One word came back. He couldn't speak it, breathless as he was, but it comforted him. No static obscured its sound.

Kris.

It meant nothing to him. There was comfort in it, all the same.

The cold still held his body in a vice grip, but he felt it start to lift. His mind ticked back to life. There was horror in the revelations he was unfolding, but it couldn't be worse than what he had just felt. He was somehow certain he wasn't alone. The pieces started clicking together.

Memories that glitched. No footprints in the snow. The perpetual fighting. How cold Thomas felt. How cold Asriel always felt. The dead animal in the woods. Thomas's voice, how it wriggled right through everyone's defenses. The way his influence turned everyone into their worst selves. The way Thomas' face and smile always looked like plastic. The way he moved: too fluidly, like every step was choreographed. His hair, how it never seemed to change in the slightest, defiant to the laws of physics. Asriel had seen his true face just now. It wasn't human at all.

More. The first pieces were things Asriel had been able to see. He had to dig deeper for these next bits. Thomas's absence in the more mundane moments of life, and the fact that Asriel had never noticed it. How their parents fought each time he left a room they'd all been in. How when he was around, physical objects tended to distort. The way Asriel always forgot how unsettled Thomas made him. The way his emotions always felt amplified in his presence. Asriel's mind had glossed over all those things. He was certain none of it was an accident.

The truth came together. It was obvious, really. He should have realized it before now.

This thing wasn't his sibling at all.

His heart was beating slower now. He was afraid, of course, but the panic attack evaporated. His mind was clear, finally. And he was warm again. 

It was some kind of demon. Something Asriel couldn't comprehend, pretending to be a human. It was here to hurt, to ruin everything it could. It had erased memories. It would erase more. Nobody was safe from it. Given its powers, he was certain it could kill everyone in this town if left unchecked. It would devour everything and move on to destroy more.

There had to be some way to stop it. He thought back on what someone used to say about stopping ghosts. Something about silver knives. Something about iron and spells. Solving unfinished business. He had no idea what would apply. He thought harder. Tried to remember what they said.

What Ǩ̷̯̫͖̮̝͙̘̾͋͋̈́̉͗̋̍͆̐̔̄̿̎̐̕̚r̸͖̭̺̗̙̟̲͖̙̙̞̥̘̳̮͌̔̽ͅī̴̧̻̞̲̰͖̻͕͙͊́͋̕̕ṣ̴̢̣̦̺͇̭̋̔͂̓̉̑͆̈̈̊̽̈́̅͑̍̕̚̚͜͝͝ said--

The name evaporated.

Terror made his fur prickle. Already, the thoughts he was thinking began to blur. One thing. One piece of information. He couldn't lose all of it. He had to keep his family safe from this. He had to hold on. For Mom. For Dad. For someone else he couldn't remember. His claws cut deep into his palms. The pain barely registered.

I can remember one thing, come on, just one thing, just one thing before it's all gone, before this glitch ends, hold on, just hold on…

"I'm better off without you."

Asriel gazed into a pair of bright eyes. The colors shifted with every passing moment. The face that held them had waxy skin, but the emotions were expressed well enough. Right now, it was contorted, hate radiating through every frown. Asriel felt he should have been crying. He should have been crushed under the weight of despair. Tears he couldn't remember crying were already drying on his face. Yet, he felt warm. The only emotion he felt was unease. The same unease he felt when looking at the dead animal. It was the feeling of staring at something unnatural.

"Okay." His voice was surprisingly level. "I'm going to bed."

Thomas blinked. He seemed at a total loss for words. The malice evaporated. Confusion remained. It was like Asriel had missed a line in a script. He fumbled for more cruelty and found none. Finally, he nodded. His skin and clothes were blurring again.

Asriel removed his knee from the floor and got into bed. He wrapped the blankets tight to ward off the chill. He ignored the light clicking off, and the yelling from downstairs. A single revelation, one that refused to die, reverberated through his mind.

That thing wasn't his brother.

He was afraid; terrified, actually, of what it might mean. His memories were blurry, but Asriel remembered a bird dead in a cage. There was no way Thomas would be content just destroying the family. Once his parents divorced, the game Thomas played wouldn't end. It would eventually grow to the whole town. He could kill everyone. He could kill Asriel. The possibility made Asriel's entire body tense. 

But he was done being a coward.

The night was restless, but the dawn was clear. Over breakfast, in the same tone she would use to tell him someone had died, Mom informed him she and Dad were divorcing. Asriel simply looked across the table at the imposter. He thought of the animal splayed across the road. Just collateral damage, turned wrong by some terrible influence. Just something else broken.

The news didn't hurt, just as he knew it wouldn't. It just strengthened his resolve to stop whatever was happening. He'd have time for grief later. 

"Asriel?" Dad prompted. His eyes were hollow. "Do you have anything to say?"

He shook his head. "I'll be okay." The words echoed like water dripping into an empty well. "I'm sorry."

He had lost this battle. He would not lose the next.

Chapter Text

Spring should have arrived, and yet no flowers bloomed in the woods. The trees were empty of birdsong. Snow still coated the frozen earth, killing any new plant's chance to take root. No animals crossed the path. If they were there, they were hiding, likely afraid of the monstrosity shambling through their home. All was lifeless, except for the faint whisper of wind through the icy branches. The human's form winked in and out of the dim light as they walked. No footprints disturbed the quiet snow.

A new sight slid into their focus. The treehouse was covered in snow, and worn from years of disuse. It towered, a monolith built of dead boards and living tree, looming over their small body. The music in their ears grew anticipatory. When they stepped onto the first rung of the ladder, the wood creaked. Splinters drove into their bare hands where they grasped at the wooden boards. Still, their body moved onwards. They climbed the ladder, pushed the trapdoor aside.

It was small inside. The shutter covering the small window had gotten open at some point. Snow lay on the ground around the opening. It was an unremarkable place, mostly. Plain gray boards, a hushed soundtrack. No decorations on the walls. 

The only interesting things in the room were the items dumped into a corner. There were two trash bags, torn open by the elements. The contents inside were a faded array of clothes and toys. Rot had set in, and it was easy to see that some small animal had made its home inside one of the bags. A small wagon sat next to the heap. Inside, a birdcage with rusted limbs perched, door half open. The metal shone in places, but it was otherwise lifeless. No ghosts had made their home there, after all.

Their heart ached, momentarily.

Their body stilled. Thomas' Stats menu came up. Asriel's relationship value was right at the top: a bright red -100. The cursor lingered over it, selected his name. His information popped up. The screen shook a few times before settling.

Your older brother.

That was it. One line of text. Nothing about who he was, his hopes and dreams, his fears, his passions, his flaws. It said nothing about his kindness or his worry, how smart he was, how he tried so hard at every little thing he did. His perfectionism. His compassion. His need to be flawlessly loved, and how it broke something in him when he wasn't. He was so many things: soft hugs, warm smiles, late nights playing video games, a broken sob on the other side of the bathroom door. This game reduced all of him to a single line.

Thomas--

No. He didn't deserve a name. It didn't deserve a name. It wasn't worthy of being called anything that might make it seem like a person, not after what it had done. It was the Player, and it had destroyed their family for the sake of entertainment. It didn't matter whether the Player was a person on the other side of the screen or not. They would no longer think of the entity as anything other than a parasite.

The Player hit Save. The soundtrack paused as the game did. When the music returned, it was heavy with anticipation. The wintry air crackled once and fell still. 

Their body took a step towards the trapdoor.

A creak sounded on the ladder. The trapdoor lifted. And their heart lifted into their throat, only to slam down into their belly. It was Asriel, of course.

His motions were deliberate as he pulled himself into the room. He stood and nudged the trapdoor closed with a booted foot, not saying anything. Asriel was shivering, gloved hands shaking, but the determination in his eyes burned. 

Lines of text scrolled across the bottom of their vision. They couldn't break eye contact. He shouldn't have come here. He should be at home. He should be far away from this thing. 

They could hear the soundtrack better. A soft piano track, yes, but the underlying beat dragged like the pulse under a bruise. The notes hung sharp over their head, ready to fall.

"You got my note," he said. 

"I did."

"Are you ready to have a talk?"

*Yes.

*No.

It paused barely half a second before picking one.

"Yes."

The screen changed slightly. Colors brighter, the lines that made up Asriel clearer. A cutscene.

"Dad moved out this morning. And I know you had something to do with it." His voice shook, despite the even tone. Rage.

If their hands could clench, their nails would be drawing blood from their palms by now. The anger made it hard for them to breathe.

"You've done something to Mom and Dad. To all of us. Why?"

The soundtrack stuttered over a few bars as the word scrolled over the screen. The Player stayed silent.

"The whole town is in chaos. People are suffering. Husbands and wives divorcing, animals turning up dead, friends hating each other, everyone always cold and afraid, inexplicable events happening out in the woods. I know you're the one responsible. I need to know why you did all this."

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because I want to see if you'll show even a shred of remorse for what you've done. You've hurt me and my family. I deserve an explanation."

"You think I owe you anything?"

"Considering that you just ripped apart my family? Considering that you pretended to be my sibling for so long? I do."

It held eye contact with him. They could see their body reflected there: an unnatural thing, made up of wavering particles. If he could have heard the music ringing in their ears, he would have run. He should have already known he shouldn't be here. But he stood, trembling with anger, unaware of the glitches tearing the treehouse from the inside out. Determination radiated from every strand of his fur. Brave. Stupid. Immensely, incalculably precious.

The beat dragged on, inexorable. The wind shook the treehouse. The pixels in the floorboards turned momentarily to carpet. The Delta Rune rug on their bedroom floor shone bright, then faded. The lines between places and times were blurring. The birdcage's hinges sang.

"You want tǫ̶̆ know the real reason for all this. Are you sure you c̵̤̏a̵̼̾n̴͝ handle it?"

"It can't be worse than what you've already done."

"Ã̶̴̫̦̯̤̼͆̑ll righ̶̛̼͛t" Against their will, their mouth twisted into a grotesque smile. "I did it bȩ̴̟̰̂͊c̷̭̀́̉aǘ̷́se̷̐̚ I c̷͒͑͆̕o̷̘̫͚͗̽́ú̴̱̜̮̊̌ld̵̗̺̓̆̑͠͝."N̸̡̋̄o o̸th̷̅ḛ̵͎͛̑̄ͅṙ̸̮̥ re̸̩͉̞̹̔̆̏̊̃̚͜à̸̈́s̸on."

"That's it? That's really it?"

"̶̡̉Ha. D̸i̴͉͛d y̸̬͘ö̶̹́u̴̒ th̷i̷n̵̛̻k t̴͖̑he̷͔͒re̵̸̗̽̃ was a hǐ̴̠g̵̞̑he̷͔̿r ̵̢̃purpo̵͎̓s̴̺̃e? You̶'re st̸̫̉i̷̖̋l̴̹͝l̴͇̔ so naive, As̴r̴̺̾iě̷͉l̷͔̈́. T̴͑ḫ̷͘is ̷͖͛w̵̰͂or̷̕ld exists so I cā̷̹͈̤͘n do whatever I want. It's no̶̥͑t built for you or anyone eḻ̷͙̘̚se. Yŏ̴̬ụ̴̅ and ̷͝your fam̶̜͆i̷̼̎ḽ̸͠y ä̶̫́r̴̯͝e̸ mẏ̴̲ ̷̃ plâ̵̩yt̸̲̃h̷i̷̖̚n̶̜̾gs̶͙͌.̸̬͊

"That-- so that really is how you think. Playthings. No remorse? Do you even realize how much pain you've caused? Do you even see what you've done?"

"I know exactly wḩ̸͑a̵̛̭t I've done. You're such an ȉ̶͎͙̉̓d̴̦̈́́̓e̴͐a̴ḻ̵̳̞͛͊i̶ŝ̶t, you stupid bȍ̸̦͝y. You're thinking you can stop me by reminding me I'm better t̷̹͓̑͝ḧ̶̢̩͈̤̹̖͓̘̼̘͎͓͈̥́̇̂͗̌̈́̃̇͆͒̚͠a̶̡̢̛͈̙̱̻͖̟̺̓̃̈́͊̐͝n this. The fact that we've gȍ̸̦͝tten to this point is proof that I'm not."

It took a step towards him. He flinched. They realized, too late, that they'd projected their own emotions onto him. His trembling hadn't been anger.

It had been fear.

"I'm the villain t̷̹͓̑͝ḧ̶̢̩͈̤̹̖͓̘̼̘͎͓͈̥́̇̂͗̌̈́̃̇͆͒̚͠is time around because it was ȩ̸͋̾̓̍̔͑͝nte̸͋̾͝rtaining. I li̴̎̌ḵ̸̭͂̐̓̃̕e̶͑͌̾̕͠d seeing your suffering. All of yo̶̘͐ů̵͔ are such interesting toys onc̵̥̠̯͌̎e̵̼̺̍͗ the masks are t̷͉̖͕͕͊̇̎̕orn off."

"That can't be all there is to you. Y-you must feel something for us."

"Don't bother denying it. You've known si̴͇̗̿n̶͎͚̓͋ce you wrote that note. You just don't want to believe it, b̷̛̏͂͒̐̐ecause that would mean you have to grow a spi̴͇̗̿n̶e and deal with me."

He had no reply to that. His composure was slipping more by the moment. The false bravado had completely worn away. Fear was slipping into terror. The glitches started to wear away.

"Still, I've gotten b̷̧̛͙̏͂͒̐̐ored with you. I've seen all of you there is to see. I'm ready to move on."

"I-- I'll stop you. I won't let you leave. You can't hurt anyone else. I won't-- I refuse to let you." 

"That won't stick. You'll get out of my way. I'll make you get out of my way."

"No!" His voice cracked. He was trembling hard enough to shatter. A single step, and one of his feet was standing on the trapdoor. Its wood creaked. The winter air, heavy with static, nearly obscured the sound. "I won't let you hurt a-anyone else. I refuse! It doesn't m-matter what you are, or how powerful you are! You aren't leaving here."

The Player laughed. They hated the way the sound crunched through their throat. "Move out of my way, Asriel. Yo̶̘͐ů̵͔'ve lost. I like that you've gotten less cowardly, here at the end, but digging in your heels won't do anyone any good. Your choices don't matter. Only mine do. Your job now is to move out of my way before I crush you."

"No." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. The sheath clattered on the floor. Underneath, the blade was curved, like a ribbon frozen into silver. The beat grew louder. He pointed the knife at the Player. "I-- I don't want to do this. I'm not a violent person. But if you threaten my family--"

"You're threatening me? You. Asriel Dreemurr, the coward. You are threatening me."

They wanted to strangle their own throat. That tone was so dismissive.

"Yes! Is it-- so hard to believe I could? I can. I will. I'll hurt you. B-but if you-- if you come quietly, then--"

"What are you going to do, Azzy ?" The name, spoken like an endearment, burned their mouth. They swallowed the fury that threatened to scorch them from the inside out. "Are you going to take me down to the police station? Officer Undyne is one of the better ones. I doubt she'd arrest me for the crime of being human. Nobody will believe your story."

"I-- I know that! I'll t-take you to the s-storage shed behind the flower shop, a-and l-l-lock you in til I figure out what to do with you."

"And when your dad needs to get something from there? What will you do? You can't keep him away forever. Someday he'll unlock the shed and find me there, crying that Asriel locked me inside. And that's assuming I can't find a way out on my own."

"I-- I--"

Oh, Azzy.

"You idiot. You didn't think your plan through at all, did you? So eager to rush in and be a hero that you didn't think through the obvious. Or maybe you're just afraid to get your hands bloody."

"I will d-do it if you leave me no other ch-choices. I will kill you."

"Your hands are trembling too much for me to believe that. Stupid boy. Let me guess, it's silver? So you can destroy this demon?"

"Y-yeah! So-- so don't come any cl-closer. I'm not afraid. I can do it." He was fighting tears. Despite his best efforts, he looked utterly terrified. 

The Player laughed. The sound tore through the newly glitching air. Their feet dragged across unreal floorboards. Closer, closer. "̷̢̠̈Ÿ̵̛́o̸ù̴̪͕̠͝'̶̛rē̴̖̾͠ n̸̝̬̘͋̋ę̷͖̇̄a̶͑̑͠͝rly ̴̘̃c̴̨̺̪͇̽̓̾r̵̛̭̞̕ỳ̵in̷̝̮̝̫͐̊͠͝͠g̸."

He swiped at his eyes. "Th-that doesn't matter. I'll stop you."

"Yo̴u̴ ̷w̴o̸u̴l̴d̷n̵'̸t̶--"

Asriel lunged.

It was a clumsy motion. They had enough time for their anger to give way to fear, to anticipate the pain, but their body was already in motion. It stepped to the left. The motion was smooth, as graceful as their brother was not. The floorboards trembled. Asriel stumbled on past. They were unscathed.

"N̷̓͜ö̷̩́̐̋t̶̼̓ ̸͓͉̙̾͝b̶͕̳̯͐̌á̴͇̗̥͋d̸̡̞̥͑̄̒."

He turned. Again, the knife came down, and again, they stepped aside. Again. Again. The Player laughed more. The sound shook the air, made Asriel's body momentarily burst into an array of pixels. It was almost like a dance. Back, back, side, back, around and around the treehouse. The beat crashed through the walls. It felt as if their body would burst into pixels too. There was so much happening. 

"T̵̻͐̒h̴͈͛e̴̻̟̎̍r̶͈͔͗̀e̷̻̟̍'̸̨̤͋̇s ̴̠͊̾͜n̴̠̊o̷̘̅̃ ̷̱̋͐w̶aỷ̴̫̈ ̷͓͇͒y̷̻̒̿ͅọ̷͛́ụ̷͆ ̴̣̺͑̕c̵̣̋̚á̶̫̣n ̶̦̿w̷̨̄i̷̞͒̿n̸̫͋,̷̝̐ ̴͈̰͘Ä̸́s̴͝ͅr̶͍̓i̷e̴̲̿̓l̸̰." The laugh shook them to the marrow. "G̵̜̓i̶̖̎vé̴̮ ̸͓̋u̷͆͜p..̸̳͋ ̴̥̏Ẏ̵̻ỏ̷̖u̸̜̅'̷͙̿r̶̖ě̵͍ ̵̛̯p̵̮͛ow̸̞̑ḙ̴̒rl̵͓͠e̶͋ͅs̵͐s̵̚͜."

The knife whistled past their left arm. His lunges were getting more erratic. Tears fell freely from his eyes. He lunged, so full of force that he didn't care if he stumbled. Their body wasn't fast enough this time. He grabbed their shirt collar, slammed them back against the wall. Pain lit up their spine. The thin wood creaked under their back. Breath fled. Adrenaline spiked. Their feet weren't touching the floor. 

Asriel pressed the tip of the knife against their throat. The metal was freezing. His tremors shook the blade until it cut their skin. Instinct drove them to get away from the knife, but their limbs were locked down. All they had was their terror and no way to act on it. They didn't even have a heartbeat to express it.

Silence. Silence. The knife stayed where it was. Blood welled from the wound. He didn't push it deeper.

"Ỵ̶̯o̶̲͋u̶̞̽͝ ̸̝̩̇͝c̴̼̊ä̴̞̔ǹ̵'̵̮̿̓t ̵̘̈͆d̴̻͖̈ō̴͈̖̆ ̷̣̝̓i̶͖̦͌̿t̵̙̋̏, ̴̪̳͐c̵̟̋̄a̸n̶̳̑ ̷͍̾ŷ̵̦̱̕o̶ủ̸̮͝?̴̩̫͊͝" The Player stared into his wet eyes. A laugh snarled out. "Y̴̧͕͗̑o̶͂u̵̢̳͋ ĉ̷̻̱̄a̶̒n̵͍̗̈́̒'̴̟͎̿t̵̞͐ k̷͈͋i̶͈̽l̵̹̓̆l̶͖͆̕ a̷͚̖͊n̶̡̼͛y̵͊͠ͅȍ̷͖̖͠n̷͖̣̏ȇ̷̡̻͝.̸̣̹̑ L̵͎̝̽̄e̸͙̊a̵̘̥͒s̵̝͓̀t̶͆̏ ̷͙͓̋ö̸̫́f̶̪̠͊ a̸̬͕͋l̶̰̈́l̵̍ ̴͈y̸̢̛̠o̸̥̅ư̵͎̮͝r̷̙̔ ̷̹̰̿ǫ̴̞̂̚w̷̖̥̓̆n̷͌ s̷̲̾̚i̷̘̟b̸̟͐͜l̵̡̟͂͘in̴̄̔g̶̪̲̀."

He hiccuped. He looked young again, the soft boy who used to hide from thunderstorms. Just as scared as they were. Just as young. "Y-y-you aren't my sibling."

They'd spent all this time disappearing, denying they were a person at all. As it turned out, when push came to shove, a primal part of them didn't want to truly die. Their life had narrowed down to a single point, balanced on the blade's edge, running cold down their neck. They didn't want it to end here. They didn't want to stare into their brother's eyes while he snuffed them out. They didn't want his remorse to be the last thing they knew.

Asriel. The thought was instinctive as breathing. There was no anger. The only emotion left in them was fear. Asriel, don't do this. Please.

Glitches spread across the wood behind them. Asriel's face was nearly obscured by flickering color. The static filled their ears until they couldn't think. Soundtrack, off-key. Cold metal. Thin walls. Boards digging into their back. They couldn't feel their lungs moving anymore. Yet the voice spoke on.

"Y̸̰͐o̶̬̅͋ṵ̵̧̔'̸͎̋̉ͅr̶̥̘̓͛è̴ ä̸̗́ w̸̰̹̄͒e̴̻̒a̵͂k̷̳̝̂l̷͓̽ĭ̴̄n̸g̴͍̜̈," it taunted. "T̵̮̃o̶͈̓o̶̡̚ ̸̲͑ċ̶̙o̵̲wa̶͎r̵̯̄d̸̦̋l̶͙͑y̸̓ to̶̱ e̵̩̿v̴͎̕ē̴̗n̷̽ cr̴̖̾u̴̦͝s̷͕͗h̸͛ ä̷̫ f̶͕̑l̵͚͠y̴̢̽.̴̺͘ ̵̤͌Y̵̧̑o̶̘̅ü̸ ċ̶̗á̶̖ņ̵̊'̸̡̌t k̵͍̔i̵̙̿l̶͕͊l̶̛̻.̵̜͒ Y̸̧͝o̴͒͜u̵ j̵̡͋ų̶͝s̵̻̑t ḑ̷͐o̵̗̐n̶̟'̵̢͒t̶̥͠ ha̷̳͘v̵͇͆e̸͔͑ i̸̚t̴̘͂ i̸̢̛ń̶̟ yơ̶͓ű̶̦.̶̲̐ Aň̷͎d̴ ̶̻̔ṯ̶̇h̴̘̎a̴t̶̲̑'̸͓̽š̵̝ ̷̥̓g̶̮̑ǒ̶̡i̸̯̓n̷͇͝g̵̪͂ t̶͔̐o̷̖̍ be̵̙̋ y̶̰̾o̵̳̽ū̴͉r̸͋ ̶̘̈́r̷̭̔u̵̟̿ì̶̡ṋ̸̈."

Their lips pushed into a grotesque smile. It hurt. Their face was too small to contain that level of malice. Cold burned in every cell. The room around them grew less real by the second. Every moment ached. The blood trickled, sluggish, down their neck. They were going to die here at their brother's hands. Nobody would miss them.

A single tear fell down their cheek. 

His hands shook even more. The moment stretched out. The tear clung to the edge of their jaw, dropped to the floor. Their teeth remained bared. Blood dripped down their neck. His grip loosened.

"You--" His voice faltered. "Fine. C-call me a coward if you want. I don't care."

The knife pulled away from their neck. They heard a clatter, difficult to detect underneath all the noise. Relief flooded them. "I'll just find a different s-solution."

A hand closed around their throat. Before he could tighten his grip, their hands shot up and broke his grip. Their shirt tore. Their feet hit the ground. The beat rose to a crescendo. With more strength than someone of their size should have been able to muster, they pushed. They felt more than heard the floorboards shake. 

Reality was blurring. The soundtrack looped. Time stretched out. They couldn't see. They dodged and spun and tried to ignore the blurring colors in front of their eyes. Under their feet, the boards were cracking. Asriel's feet pounded behind them. Fear crackled along every nerve. Lunge, dodge, stop--

Everything went white. The music stopped.

And it returned.

Their back was against the wall again. He stood in front of them, eyes dripping with tears. His green jacket was an army built out of imperfect pixels. Determination was written all over his face. His hands trembled. The left one bore a streak of red across the palm. He was so vital that every bit of them ached. 

The beat dragged across his words. "This ends here, Thomas."

A smirk twisted their lips. It laughed.

Asriel lunged at them. He was all the force of his years in various sports, all the weight of his muscle, all the strength he'd accumulated, launching towards them with outstretched hands. He was their heart rising in their throat. He was determination itself. He had no thought to how he would land, his only goal catching the demon.

Their body bent. Stepped to the side. Cold metal slipped into their hand. The knife.

Asriel stumbled straight into the wall.

His disorientation was temporary. He turned to face them. Before he could notice what was in their hand, before they could scream, the Player made them rise. Their arm stretched up. The blade stabbed directly into his chest.

His eyes widened.

Their soul was leaving their body. They couldn't feel their hands anymore. Like a distant observer, they watched the knife's silver disappear into Asriel. Watched him stumble backward. He didn't scream, only made that small, familiar bleat of pain they remembered from childhood. The noise he would make when he scraped his knee, or hit his nose on something. A small pain. Not something as enormous as this.

"Told you," it laughed. It drove the blade in deeper, as merciless as Asriel was not. He stumbled, tripped backward and landed on one of the rotting bags. His hands grabbed at the knife. His eyes were shocked. He looked up at them with how could you? burning bright in his face. "You idiot. You should have stabbed me when you had the chance."

He squeezed his eyes shut. His face blurred, then reformed. That soft sound escaped him again. More tears streaked down his face. "I-- I--"

They wished they could reach out and touch him. They were able to, last time they saw him cry. This was a thousand times worse. They should have been able to touch him. But they were numb. They could only stare at the knife sticking out of his chest. Could only think Asriel, Asriel, Asriel . Their thoughts were dying with a dying fall beneath the music. 

They could hear the soundtrack again. A simple, gentle piano tune. If they were free, they could play it without much trouble. The notes echoed, as if coming from a further room.

"I-- I-- I'm. I'm not. Not sorry." His breathing was labored. He squeezed his hands into fists. Every word shivered in the winter air. "N-n-not s-s-sorry I d-didn't hurt y-you."

"You'd rather die an innocent," it scoffed. At the noise, fury settled their shaken wits. How dare it do this to him. "Pathetic."

Asriel's next muffled noise was almost a laugh. He was shivering so hard they could hear his teeth rattle. "Y-y-yeah. I-- I guess that w-was it. R-r-rather kill than be k-killed. 'S easier th-that way. D-don't wanna-- w-wanna go home and, and, and d-d-disappoint Mom. N-n-never wanted t-that."

"You were a disappointment either way. You've always been one." It cackled. "And you've always been terrified of it. Ever since you were a little boy."

"Y-yes. Always. N-never w-w-wanted anyone t-t-to be h-hurt because of... because of m-me." He laughed again. Dust dribbled from the corner of his mouth. The pain in his eyes threatened to send them under. In his last moments, he was too honest. It hurt to watch. "G-g-guess you do kn-know me after all, Th-Thomas."

No.

The rejection was small. A distant thought. A lifeline in the grief-filled sea. 

No. You don't know him. You don't know anything about him. You don't get to say those things about him. You just saw how brave he was.

Tears filled their eyes. They could feel their body like it was their own again. Slowly, their hands turned to fists.

"I do," the Player said gleefully. "Now I've learned everything about you. You can shut up and die now. I'm ready to move on."

Asriel had been brave. Braver than they had ever been. Kinder. Better. He'd come up here knowing he could die. He'd shown mercy anyway. And that thing, that evil spineless thing, had killed him.

The anger that had lain dormant in their belly woke. The ice left their blood. They were barely aware of their face contorting. 

I won't let him die.

A single pixel on the far wall turned the wrong color. 

"G-g-go ahead," Asriel said. He was shivering even harder. Dust stained his coat. Every bit of him was folding inwards, becoming small. "G-g-guess I c-c-can't stop you now, haha."

Determination roared through their veins. The soundtrack glitched.

They'd made time go back once, with their apathy; they could do it again with anger. Glitches weren't supposed to exist, just like them. They could harness the glitches. All they had to do was focus. The floor was already becoming unreal. Enough power, and they could punch through time. They could make it so this whole cursed timeline never happened.

The room trembled. They pictured themself banging against lines of code, bringing their fists down until they shattered the world. Just like Asriel, they were shaking. They hadn't thought they could feel so much hate.

"Y̴o̶u̴ c̵a̵n̸'̶t̴," it said. The words flickered. Their mouth wasn't moving. "G̵͚̫̓͝o̶̘̒ŏ̵̡̮̏d̶͑ḇ̸̢̈́ỷ̸̡̅͜e, ̵̙͐A̵̰͐͒s̷̮̽̽ȓ̶͉̖i̶̘̲̓e̵̢̔l̶͓̪͆͝.̷ ̷̢̱͋̈W̷̛̙͎̊ẖ̶̪̀e̸̢̓ň̴̹͘ yo̶̟̩͑̕ų̶̖͒'̷̨̙̂r̵̟͠e̶̚ ̷̖̀͋i̷͎ǹ̵̞͖̌ y̴̭̭͛́o̴͉͐u̸͇͎̍r̷̼͐ c̸̱̦̒ő̶̿ẅ̶̳͙́͐ȃ̸r̸̞͠d̸'̴̜͉̆ṣ̵͑͛ h̸͔͊ẽ̵̲̕a̷͎͘͝v̷̤̭̐e̸̱̼͐͘n̵̠͔̈́,̶͎͙̐̃ I ḧ̴̦́o̷͙p̵̣͘͠e̵͛ ̶̢͇͗̀y̶̮̩̔͂ơ̴̱͇̈u̶͍̤͌̅--"

"Shut up."

Rage howled through them. The sound tore their throat raw. Glitches ravaged their body. It hurt. They didn't care. They slammed their determination down like they would hit a button.

Asriel was staring at them. His fingertips were turning to dust. His mouth moved. A familiar shape. 

"I am not letting you die," they growled. "Not if I can help it."

More and more glitches. They couldn't feel their body anymore. Time and space grew thin. They ripped through it as easily as tissue paper. Their anger was enough to erupt a volcano, enough to destroy an entire world. Enough to make this end. 

Something shattered. Colors flashed in front of their lids. Their body disconnected from their consciousness. They couldn't hear Asriel's breathing anymore. A few bars of broken music broke in. A glitching song.

Reset, come on, reset already--

Everything went black.

Kris fell backwards.

Chapter Text

The blackness had always been liquid before. Now, it had evaporated, and Kris plummeted backwards through the void. Nothing above them. Nothing below. The soul in their chest was cold enough to burn. 

There was no fear. All they felt was determination.

They fell past cliffs and black waterfalls, past a dark castle looming over a blue town. The air whistled a soft melody into their ears. The soul inside them tugged towards the castle, but their descent didn't change direction. They passed right by a cliff, just out of reach of their grasping fingers. Deeper into darkness, where it was silent once again. 

Darker. They couldn't see anything anymore. The pressure around them built, as if they had dived to the bottom of a swimming pool. Their ears were filled with static. Wind rushed past them. The cold in their chest built until they could barely stand it. The sensation robbed something from them. Something indefinable.

It's the Player, they realized, finding the thoughts amid the sensory overload. It's this focus here. My heart doesn't beat because this thing is stopping it.

They put their hand to their chest, and a jolt of pain shocked their entire system. They had to pull their hand back. It was like ice had stabbed crystals through every nerve.

It doesn't want me messing with it. 

Good, then. That was a sure sign they were doing something right. Hopefully, this plummet through darkness signified that they'd managed to reset time. The order of things had reversed. If the Player's last bit of control was trying to stop them from touching the area, then they would go ahead and rip the damn thing out of their chest. It would serve the Player right. 

They were falling faster, faster, into a place even further from the light from the last. Pressure built until it felt like they would implode. The blackness itself seemed alive here, like if they reached out, they could feel it breathe. Darker yet darker, faces peering through the void. They thought they heard a voice. They couldn't understand it.

They thought of Asriel, the way his hands shook when a knife was at their neck. The betrayal in his eyes when he was stabbed. How he said he wasn't sorry that he hadn't hurt them. Terror and pained resignation on his face. Kris gritted their teeth.

They reached for their chest. Felt something give. Pain rocketed through them. The void swallowed up their screams. Impulse commanded them to pull their hand away, but they pressed harder. If this killed them, so be it.

Asriel's dust, staining his hands. His wheezing laugh. How hard he shivered, and how that shivering broke off pieces of him. His determination when he came to stop the Player. The way it laughed when it murdered him. I can't let it win. I won't.

They were shaking almost as hard as Asriel had. They weren't sure if they were real, if it was flesh or just a manifestation of flesh, but whatever their hand was boring through felt profoundly wrong. It squirmed under their touch. Every piece of them felt about to collapse from the sheer pressure. They faltered.

No, they thought, letting their anger sear through the pain. I won't be afraid of it. I won't let it stop me. It's taken too much. It won't take any more from me. 

Kris thought of the child they used to be. Compressed, simple, unapologetic energy, rocketing through every day. Unashamed. Embarrassing. Red horns, bright eyes, dragons and ghosts and odd turns of speech. They had left that person behind and not looked back. But now, falling through the void, pain bolting every cell down, Kris was angry for the self they had never once mourned. That child had been murdered by the Player as surely as Asriel had. A slow poison, perhaps, not the abrupt knife in the chest. But murder all the same.

Their fingers hit something hard. The center. They grabbed at it, ignoring how it cut their palm. They weren't breathing anymore. They couldn't.

Years of depression. Time spent erasing themself. Hiding secrets that threatened to crack them from the inside out. Despair so heavy that they'd begged the Player to erase themself permanently. It wasn't just Asriel or Mom or Dad that they were doing this for. It was their past self. They'd forgotten who they were for so long. They would never do it again.

Every piece of themself they'd pushed down. Every item they'd thrown away. Every word repressed, every uncomfortable sensation they'd forced themself to endure, every instant they were untrue to themself, all of it flared bright as the sun. Kris' yell was no longer the sound of pain. It was a battle cry.

The wind was howling now, furious as Kris was. It nearly sounded like a song. Cheering them on, helping them. Kris could barely think through the pain. More life slipped from them the longer they touched it. They tugged anyway.

The soul ripped free.

The fall abruptly cut short. Kris' back slammed into something hard. Impact shuddered their body. Agony overtook any thought. Darkness scattered, replaced by shards of light burrowing into the back of their skull. Their lungs seized so intensely that they feared they'd rupture. A frenzied moment of terror, then Kris drew a breath. Their chest lifted. Dropped. A tear froze to their lashes. 

Deep within, their heartbeat lurched back to life.

Their ears were ringing. Each beat sounded like a drum. After months of silence, it was a relief. They belonged to themself again. 

I… survived.

The soul fluttered in their hand. They closed their fist instinctively, feeling hard edges against their fingers. It no longer cut them, but it was unpleasant to the touch. Their hand was going numb.

The hole in their chest-- they'd ripped it out--

Kris fumbled their free hand to their chest. The skin was solid. Healed, as if it had never happened. Pain still breathed through every bit of them, but they weren't bleeding out. They weren't going to die. They exhaled a shaky breath and opened their eyes.

They were in the tree house still. The wood quality in the boards above was different now. Everything had been made out of pixels when they first came here. Now, everything looked ordinary. They sat up and looked at the bags. No dust. No sign of Asriel. 

Time had reset. Not far back enough. Not enough to overwrite all the Player did. But Asriel was alive. They were certain of that. His life would have to be enough. 

The soul fluttered again. Kris grabbed it harder, using their free hand to help. Red light oozed through their fingers. The soul was made of pixels where the rest of the world was not, hard and cold like a gem. It kept tugging towards their chest while they held it at bay. Their arms shook. They were going numb.

They needed to put it somewhere. 

Asriel had brought the cage here, a sign of his hope for them. All these years later, it would finally pay off. The hinges on the door creaked when Kris opened it. They shoved the soul inside and slammed the door shut before it could escape. No ghosts stopped them. The soul remained where they'd put it.

Their heart was still speeding in their chest. Every cell still hurt, but it had died down to a dull ache. Kris put a numb hand to their chest, feeling their heartbeat. They were shivering, they realized. Their body had not thawed a single degree. Every inch of them felt as if it had been thrown through a food processor. Their limbs were unsteady. But at least it was all Kris now.

The soul stayed there. Like it had done nothing wrong. Like it hadn't made them kill. 

"You don't get to use me anymore." Their own voice was halting and unfamiliar in their ears. It sounded flat, wrong. Inflectionless. They'd grown used to hearing their voice enlivened with the Player's emotions. Kris swallowed the lump in their throat and focused on anger instead. "I'm not a toy."

If it understood, it made no indication.

Kris knelt, gripping the sides of the cage. If the Player could still see through it, they wanted it to see them truly. They set their expression into something fierce. "My name is Kris Dreemurr. I'm fourteen years old. I'm nonbinary. I'm human, though my family is all monsters. I like wool sweaters and books and butterscotch pie and playing the piano and knitting and helping my dad garden. I'm horrible at math, but I'm good at biology. I love my big brother more than anything else in the world. I'm a real person. And I'm not your plaything."

Their voice scratched the cold air. They still had no inflection, but they put as much force in it as they could muster. "When you possessed me the first time, I was terrified. Did you know that? I was seven. It was only ten minutes. I had nightmares for years. The second time lasted a week. You made me think my family loved me more when I wasn't myself. I threw everything I cared about away because I knew you could take it away. Stopped being myself, just so I would have less to lose the next time around. And it hurt. It hurt worse than tearing out my own soul. But this time proved me right. You had the capacity to take everything from me. And I hate you for using it."

Their words weren't for the Player anymore. Kris was face-to-face with their younger self again, watching them swallow slow poison. This room, this cage, were that person's grave. This wasn't just a call to accountability. It was a requiem.

"I hated myself for years. I wanted you to control me because I thought you'd do a better job. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to die. And I turned the timeline back just so I wouldn't have to live as myself anymore. But I won't let it happen anymore. You don't deserve that kind of power. Nobody does. I'm never going to bend to anything besides myself, ever again." 

Their gaze was enough to burn a hole through the soul. Their lips touched the cold metal. "Touch me or my family again, and I'll find a way to crawl through that screen and strangle you with my bare hands. I don't care what you are. I don't care what your motives are. Nothing could excuse what you did to me and my family. You come back and I'll make a ruin of you."

Maybe they were shaking, maybe not. Their heart beat the rhythm of alive, alive, alive. Kris had been silent for so long. The words leaving their mouth tasted like victory. They were Kris now. They would always be Kris.

The soul stayed where it was. That was fine. Kris was done with it. They'd leave it here to think about what it had done. If it was smart, it would learn its lesson. If it didn't, Kris was more than willing to follow through on their threat. They rose to their feet and turned their back on the cage.

The ladder creaked.

Kris' heartbeat spiked. The trapdoor opened. White fur, green jacket, worried expression. Not a broken heap on the ground, clutching at a knife. Not dust scattering the floorboards. It was Asriel, alive and well, shining like the sun, with empty hands and a worried expression. Tears blurred Kris' vision.

They'd saved him after all.

He frowned slightly, confused. "Kris?"

Their name. He knew their name.

Kris barreled into their brother, throwing their arms around him. Softness and warmth and vitality infused every bit of him. He was solid, so familiar they couldn't help the sob that broke loose.

He was alive. He was okay. He knew who they were. The nightmare was over. The dawn was breaking.

He hugged them back. "Kris," he said again, confusion in his voice. "What's going on?"

They hugged him tighter. 

"You don't have a coat on," he realized. "You're freezing -- here, take my jacket. I -- what is that thing in the corner? Why are you crying?"

They laughed, half sobbing. They let him go, let him bundle them into his jacket. The material settled on their shoulders. It was warmer than anything they'd experienced in months. Their hands were shaking, so Asriel zipped it up for them like they were a child again. His expression was filled with loving concern.

"Hey," he said. "Can you talk to me?"

Kris laughed again. Their heart was so full that they thought it would rip out the same way their soul had. The last bits of rage ebbed, leaving a half-hysterical joy. They hugged him again. "What are you doing here, Azzy?"

"I…" He frowned, rubbed his forehead. "I don't know. Something… I just felt like I should come here. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Yes. And no. Everything was okay. Nothing would be the same again. Mom and Dad were probably still divorced. Even if Asriel couldn't remember fully, he'd still been abused. But if there was anyone in the world Kris could trust, it was their older brother. 

They thought of how he'd been with them for all the years they'd hid. The old plea: talk to me, talk to me, talk to me. He'd put their things here in hopes that the old Kris would return. He'd trusted them no matter what they did. If they refused to tell him, he'd help them hide it. He always would. 

They'd carried their burden alone too long. They weren't going to lie to Asriel any longer. He deserved better than that. And, although it was an unfamiliar train of thought, Kris deserved better too.

"Here," Kris said, and their voice soared like a bird uncaged. "I'll explain it."

They told Asriel everything.

Chapter Text

"So anyway, I nearly threw out my back helping Dad move all the stuff into the back of the shop. And I lift weights and all, you know, so I'm not weak or anything. But man, all that mulch was heavy." Asriel laughed. "And I've still got to load all my boxes into the car tonight. I'm going to be walking like an old man by the time I arrive on campus tomorrow."

"Mmm." Kris sipped at their cocoa. The drink warmed their icy insides, so when they breathed on the window glass, it fogged up. They drew a smiling face in the mist. They weren't completely listening. It was enough to hear him talk on about nothing at all. Their chest ached as usual, but they could almost ignore that pain today. Their pulse was a steady thrum.

"And it's so hot outside. Angel above. I'm gonna be miserable when I unpack. I hope they have air conditioning."

"I'd give you my perpetual cold if I could."

He chuckled. "Yeah. That would be ice."

They shook their head. Their hair escaped from behind their ear, and they tucked it back. "What am I going to do without your wit."

"I have no idea. You'll have to pick up another hobby besides eye rolling when I'm gone."

Right on cue, Kris rolled their eyes. "But I'm so good at it. I've honed my skills so well."

"I know. You're just going to have to find something else to be good at. Think of it as expanding your portfolio."

"You say that like I'm not already perfect. I can flush bath bombs down the toilet and eat a whole pie in one sitting. What other talent does anyone need to have?"

Asriel laughed again. "You're right. You're the epitome of perfection. Watch out, cause they're going to be banging down your door in a few years."

"That's ominous. Who are 'they,' exactly?"

"Cute classmates wanting your number. Employers. Talent scouts. Colleges. We should look into getting you a pie-eating scholarship. Everyone is going to want a piece of that."

They rolled their eyes again. "Your puns suck."

"You're grinning."

"It's a pity grin."

"Close enough."

There was a companionable silence. Kris sipped their cocoa more. They had to be careful; the heat tended to shock their perpetually cold tongue. Another drawing in the mist. A heart, encased inside a jar. Their feet tapped against the floor.

This diner, their brother's presence, the back-and-forth rhythm of their banter. Simple pleasures, easy to forget about, but more precious than anything now. Kris closed their eyes and tipped their head back to catch a little more light from the window. Breathed in, breathed out, just to savor their control over their body. 

"So," Asriel finally said. His demeanor shifted, becoming more nervous. Kris returned their attention to him. "There's something I wanna discuss with you."

"Yeah?"

"Well, uh… the game ended tonight, the first time around. And we think that your soul should be your own again when that happens. What if it doesn't work out that way?"

They glanced at the wagon parked in the corner, the white covering over the birdcage. "I'll keep lugging the thing around, I guess."

They'd tried to leave the birdcage in the tree house. After only a few hundred feet, they could barely walk for the pain in their chest. Asriel had eventually picked them up and carried them back. The books they'd found had said nothing about possession, of course, but the effects pointed to a clear conclusion. The soul was their own. It was simply possessed. 

Since then, they'd just brought the wagon with them everywhere. Nobody questioned it. It seemed the Player's mental distortion still held up for most people. They'd caught Mom staring at the cage, but since she never touched their stuff anymore, it didn't really bother them.

(Mostly. The hole in their chest still contracted every time they thought of how she'd changed. Less kind. More suspicious. She'd been afraid of them when they were possessed. It was no wonder she didn't treat them the same anymore.)

They'd put the soul back in twice, just to see what would happen. They'd fallen into that blackness again. Something strange had spoken to them there. They'd ripped the soul back out before it said much. They didn't really like what it had to say. Something about fate. Something about choices. The words still echoed in their mind, much as Kris tried to ignore it.

Hopefully, the fact that there was blackness meant the Player had logged out. Hopefully, it meant it wouldn't be coming back. They didn't want to make good on their threat.

"Kris, it can't be healthy to keep leaving it out--"

They held a hand up to stop him. "Yes, I know. Permanent effects on me from its prolonged absence. Stunted growth, less vitality, permanent body heat issues, more weakness to illness and offensive magic, maybe a shortened lifespan. I'm in near-constant pain without it. The game might be the only thing keeping me from collapsing. Trust me. I know. But it's better than getting overwritten again. And hey, at least I can get an interesting career this way. They can put me directly into Ice-E's slushy machine to keep the slush cold."

He got a pinched look around his eyes. "You're so frank about it."

"No, I'm Kris about it. Get it right." They sighed at his worried look. "Listen, I know the costs. We've had this conversation. You worry way too much, Azzy. It's not ideal, but I can take it."

"But what if--"

"There is no what if. I'm not going to watch you die again."

He winced at the word die. Kris had described his death in graphic detail. Maybe a little too graphic, come to think of it. They regretted that now -- he suffered enough anxiety without knowing all that -- but they couldn't take it back. "I just… hate seeing how much pain you're in."

"You won't. You'll be away."

"You know what I mean. I don't like knowing that you're suffering."

"I appreciate it. But it'll probably go away tonight. If not, like I said. I can live with the cost."

More silence, less comfortable. Kris finished their mug. Their fingers drummed on their collarbone. It was an old stim, one they'd started doing again lately. It calmed them. Under their two sweaters, their core was growing cold again. Even hot chocolate only had a fleeting effect on their temperature. It was annoying.

"Another thing," Asriel finally said. He reached into a pocket. "Found this while I was packing up my stuff."

He laid it on the table. Kris stiffened. The fragile calm they'd accumulated slashed in half. They could almost feel the trickle of blood down their neck, and the cold metal at their throat. Thoughts of Asriel's dust hung heavy in the air.

"I wanted to ask you," Asriel said into the charged silence. Kris' gaze was glued to the ribbon of metal. So calm, encased in an unassuming sheath. Their fingers were drumming harder now. They twisted their free hand into the fabric of their skirt. Soft cotton. Gentle enough to soothe them. "What do you think I should do with it?"

Throw it out, they wanted to say, but their tongue felt heavy in their mouth. They focused on their heartbeat speeding in their chest. The pain radiating outward was worse now. It was getting tougher to breathe.

"Hey," Asriel said. He reached across the table and touched the hand resting on their chest. They didn't quit tapping. "I can put it away if you need me to."

Their hands plunging the knife into his chest. The dust on his fingers. His body shivering into nothingness. Best not to think of that. Best to ignore it entirely. Asriel was alive. They were being irrational. It was simply a knife. Nothing wrong with it. Kris needed to be rational about it. They'd never heal otherwise.

"No," they finally said. They exhaled, trying to get rid of the tension. Slowly, they reached across the table and picked it up.

Their hands shook. They ignored it. The knife was a heavy weight in their hands. It felt… almost nice, actually. The handle fit perfectly in their palm. If the Player hadn't made them kill Asriel with it, they would probably have thought the weapon was cool. They traced their fingers over the sheath. 

"Are you sure you're okay holding that, Kris?"

They tried to keep their voice steady. Sarcastic. They could do sarcastic. "I'm not going to turn evil and stab the waitress, if that's what you're asking."

He withdrew his hand from theirs. He wasn't laughing. "Please don't hide your feelings from me. If you need me to take it back, I will."

"Sorry. Old habits… die hard." They unsheathed the knife. The silver reflected their own eyes back at them. No multicolored irises. It was just them. Just Kris. The breath they exhaled felt more authentic. "I don't want to be afraid of it anymore. I need to hold it so I can heal. But thank you."

He nodded. His expression gentled. "Just don't push yourself. Are you hurting?"

"Yeah," they said quietly. "But it's not bad. I can walk home today. You won't have to carry me."

"I never mind carrying you."

A simple statement, but one that made their icy core suddenly feel much warmer. They accepted it with a nod. 

They kept examining the knife. It was simple, with no engravings or embellishments. The only thing odd about it was the curving blade. Gingerly, they ran a finger along the edge. Sharp. No blood welled up, but there was a little pain as the knife cut their skin. They didn't flinch. Their shaking hands began to slow. It was fine. Everything was fine.

"Huh. That's funny."

"Hmm?" They glanced at him. He was wearing the frown that meant he'd encountered another hole in his memory.

"The type of knife. I just remembered. It's called a kris. I think… that's why I bought it."

"A kris," they repeated, incredulous.

"Yeah. Knives with curving blades like that are called krises."

Their gaze dropped down to the knife again. They remembered a winter night, the bedroom glitching, their hand on his shoulder. A laugh was caught somewhere in their throat. "You must have remembered my name was important."

He'd remembered a bit of them, even when they were erased. Even when there was no logical reason he should. Even when nobody else did. A smile pushed at the corners of their mouth. Their brother was incredible.

They sheathed the knife. "Here."

Asriel didn't take it. "It's got the same name as you. I think it should be yours."

"You sure? It must have been expensive."

"If it's too traumatic for you to have, I'll sell it back to the antique store I bought it at. Otherwise, no. I think it's fate that you have it."

Kris couldn't help but grin. They slipped the knife into their skirt pocket. Their hands had nearly stopped shaking. "Fine then. Dork. I'll sleep with it under my pillow until I'm not scared of it anymore. Then I'll sell it for that sweet, sweet cash. Buy a ton of water balloons and fill the school hallways."

His returning smile was much gentler than theirs. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm proud of you, sib."

They shot fingerguns at him. "Back at you, Mr. College Goat."

He chuckled. "Let's go home. I've got to spend some time with Mom before I leave. I've been running around like a crazy man these last couple days."

They nodded. Standing made them acutely aware of the pain in their chest, but they could handle it. They grabbed the handle of the wagon and followed Asriel out into the late-summer sunshine. As usual, nobody commented on the wagon as they left. They'd grown used to it. Being ignored wasn't the best, but it offered certain advantages, prank-wise. It had become normal to them.

Asriel took their hand. Neither said anything. Neither needed to. The two walked home, a pair of siblings and a wagon in the summer heat. Old times, repeated. Kris' chest still hurt. They squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

***

Night came. Kris turned off the lights in their bedroom. They parked themself on the rug, the wagon right in front of them. The only light in the room came from the soul's red core, and the fake stars on Asriel's ceiling. Silently, Asriel slid off his bed and joined them. They leaned against his side. It was easy to make-believe that they were just watching a campfire. The illusion would have been perfect if their body wasn't so tense.

"Do you remember the time it happened?" Asriel asked. He didn't bother keeping his voice down. Mom was a heavy sleeper these days.

"No." They toyed with the buttons on their pajama shirt. It was easier than looking at him. They were hurting badly enough that speaking was difficult. "But it was the night before you left."

That night. Pressing reset, making this whole mess happen, selfishly thinking everything would be fine. It was the simple mistake of a scared child, and they'd long since forgiven themself, but the memory made them wince still. They could no more erase the choice's effects than they could grow a pair of horns. All they could do was hope everything would eventually even out.

"We could wait for hours. You're in pain-- you shouldn't be staying up like this. Maybe you should just put it back in right now--"

"No. Don't worry like that. Everything will be fine."

Silence. His grip on them was a little too tight. They allowed it. They were already in pain, anyway. They were rocking in place, ever so slightly.

If Asriel was right, and their soul didn't become their own again, they just had to live with it, they told themself. It was worth it. It was worth being Kris, no matter how much pain they were in, no matter how short their life might end up being. They'd keep going forward. They always would.

Their heart thumped in their chest. A glitching song echoed through the air. For a second, the shadows cut darker. Kris' ears rang. Their hand tightened over their chest. 

Their soul transformed.

One moment, it was crimson, made of hard-edged pixels. The next, the red bled out of it. The edges softened. Blue light replaced the bloody crimson. It wasn't nearly as bright, but it was more honest. Beautiful, even.

Kris sat up straighter, surprised.  Relief rushed through them. It was strong enough that tears nearly came to their eyes. "It's mine again."

"Yeah." His voice caught on the word. "Can you put it back in?"

"We'll see."

They'd sat close to the cage so they could reach it easily. The hinges squeaked when they unlocked it. Carefully, they closed their hand around their soul. It felt… warm. Asriel's hands settled on their shoulders. His presence steadied them. They inhaled.

They didn't need to lift up their shirt, didn't need to make a hole in their chest. When they put the soul to the area above their heart, it slipped into them as if they were made of water. It settled in, beating in sync with their heart.

Warmth expanded outward from the point, washing away the pain they'd lived with for months. It was like stretching after a long sleep. They hadn't realized how horrible their body had felt until all the discomfort suddenly vanished. The world seemed clearer, colors brighter, emotions starker. They weren't frozen anymore. They could breathe easier.

It was only them. At last, it was only them.

"Did it work?"

Their smile was wide enough to make their cheeks hurt. "Yep. It worked." 

"I'm glad. I'm really, really… really glad."

He sniffled. They scooted closer so they could hug him. He'd always been such a gentle person, their brother, so easily swayed by strong emotion. They'd forgotten how soft his tears made their heart feel. Their soul was so full of love it was nearly a physical pain.

"Don't cry, Azzy," they mumbled. "You're gonna make me cry too."

"I'm just… I'm just… golly. I'm relieved. I didn't want you to be hurting anymore. I was so worried you'd be stuck like that forever." 

They hugged him tighter. "It's over now. I'm okay."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know you are."

Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. The sound of a heartbeat pushing blood through their veins. Teardrops fell onto their hair. They patted Asriel on the back.

"Hey, Kris. You're… you're warming up."

They were. The chill had started to leave their bones. Warmth was making its slow way through them. Savoring the sensation, they closed their eyes. "Goodbye, career as a slushy machine."

Kris more felt than heard him laugh. "Is the pain gone?"

"Yep. I feel really great."

Another sniffle. "I'm glad."

If this kept up, they were really going to cry. They pressed their face into his chest. His heartbeat was faster than theirs, as it had always been. The sound reassured them. 

"I don't want to let go," he finally said, half laughing.

"Then don't."

They let their brother hold them in the growing darkness. On the other side of the wall, they knew their mother was sleeping, deaf to the scene. Dad was alone in his shop, likely dreaming of better days. Tomorrow, Asriel would leave, and they would be alone again. Maybe their mom would love them again. Maybe their dad would hug them the way they used to. Maybe the holes the Player had torn in reality would mend, and Kris would finally tell their parents the truth, and the world would revolve in a new and unforeseen fashion. Maybe not. Maybe everything would continue the same. Maybe some things were irreparable. Maybe the Player would return, and they'd have to rip their soul out once again. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The possibilities were endless.

Kris accepted all possibilities. It wasn't the time to worry. Right now was the time to let their heart beat as one with their brother's. Warmth exhaled through every limb. They held the embrace like it was the last they would ever have. A few tears gathered in their eyes. They let them fall.

Time passed, heartbeat following heartbeat. Asriel finally quit crying. Still he held on. They didn't let him go.

"Hey, Asriel?"

"Yeah."

"I love you. More than anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I love you too."

"Can… can we make a pillow fort on the floor and sleep there? Like we're kids again."

He chuckled. Slowly, he let them go. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. As long as you don't kick me in your sleep."

It was easy to smile. Easy to laugh, to banish the last lurking sadness that slept in them. They met his eyes. Briefly. Always briefly. Practice for when they had to meet people they trusted less than him. "No promises. It is me, after all."

He laughed. The sound soared through the room. "Despite everything, you haven't changed a bit."

A kind lie. They let him ruffle their hair. Let him tickle them, let themself laugh. The two quickly became a pair of children, young again, untouched by trauma, throwing pillows and giggles through the hot summer air. 

No pain still lived in Kris' chest. The other kris sleeping under their pillow had no power to harm them. Every moment brought them farther and farther away from the Player. They did not worry about tomorrow. It was enough to smile and know that the muscles were their own. It was enough to laugh and be a child again. It was enough to know they were loved. Their soul was light.

Kris was content. They were healing. They weren't alone.

That would always be enough for them.