Work Text:
Fandom: Undertale
Prompt: “Take it easy, won’t you?”
Sometimes Frisk goes quiet.
No, no, not like that, everyone knows they don’t really talk, at least not out loud, but they’re always around, always engaged, always communicating, whether or not that be verbal.
But sometimes they go quiet. They don’t move. They don’t talk. They don’t even twitch. It’s hard to tell if they’re still breathing sometimes.
The first time it happened, Toriel had dropped the plate of cinnamon butterscotch pie she’d been holding, rushing to the child’s side, not knowing what to do. She’d spent about ten minutes crouched their, calling worriedly, until Frisk blinked at sat up, wrapping their little arms around her and letting her fuss over them. When she pressed for details, they just shrugged and said it sometimes happened. They would be unable to move their body, something in their brain cutting off the responses from their muscles.
No one had ever noticed it before, and no one had ever tried to explain it.
Dr. Alphys wasn’t much help when they went to ask her to have a look at Frisk. It wasn’t her fault, humans and monsters aren’t exactly similar species. The only insight she was able to offer was that it was related to stress in some components.
Well. Wasn’t that a shock.
Asgore had never seen anything like it before. Sans didn’t remember it from any other reset, and Frisk was pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with Chara, not that they told anyone that.
The only person who could offer anything other than a vague suggestion was Grillby.
Frisk and Sans were having lunch at Grillby’s one day, a big plate of fries in front of them when Frisk slumped midway through one of Sans’ jokes about the way Grillby’s new menu item seemed to chip away at his potato supply. Sans instinctively caught hold of their SOUL using blue magic, glancing around to make sure no one else had done anything to Frisk that may have caused this. Grillby had made eye contact with another monster with fuzzy purple paws and slid out from behind the bar, coming over to Frisk’s side and crouching down a little.
Sans had looked on, astonished, as Grillby started to murmur something to Frisk. He was too far away to hear it, but Frisk’s SOUL, which had always gone frighteningly silent during these episodes, started slowly warming up in his hold. It didn’t burn, it never burned, but is grew warm, like cupping his hand around a mug of tea. Grillby kept talking, nice and quiet, the flame at the top of his head flickering slowly until Frisk blinked, turning and reaching for him. The fire elemental caught Frisk in an embrace, their small figure almost disappearing behind Grillby’s arms.
Frisk turned to Sans, reaching out for him too, tangling their fingers in his and giving his hand a squeeze.
“uh, hey, kid,” Sans had muttered, “you doing okay?”
Frisk had nodded, going back to eating. Grillby had taken his place behind the bar again, motioning for Sans to wait until everyone else had left and they could talk alone.
Grillby finished wiping down the bar after the last patron left and moved them over to one of the booths with the rounded edge, letting Frisk crawl into his lap and rest their head against his bow tie. Sans sat next to them.
“…………………………Frisk?”
Frisk looked up at him.
“Is it alright if we talk a bit about what happened?”
Frisk nodded. Grillby patted their back and looked up at Sans.
“How long,” he asked lowly, “has this been happening?”
Sans shrugged. “few weeks after we got to the surface is the first time tori noticed it.”
Grillby nodded. “Has Frisk ever offered any explanation?” He glanced down at Frisk. “HAs anyone ever given you any explanation?”
Both Sans and Frisk shook their heads.
Grillby sighed. Adjusted his grip on Frisk. “There is something I saw a long time ago,” he said quietly, “about something that happens when people undergo traumatic events.”
At this, Sans stiffened a little bit and Frisk whined, curling further into Grillby. Grillby lay a comforting hand on Frisk’s back.
“We do not have to talk about this now if you are not feeling up to it,” he rumbled.
Frisk wrapped a hand around Grillby’s wrist and squeezed.
“Very well.” Grillby looked back at Sans. “I remember sometimes, one of my men would not be able to move. They would be perfectly fine, and then they would freeze. They never provided any explanation as to how it was simply as if their body had stopped responding.”
Sans nodded. That was what was happening to Frisk, wasn’t it?
“I am afraid to admit I never found an explanation,” Grillby continued, “nor did anyone else I knew. But we did figure out a way to make it a little easier.”
Sans nodded eagerly. Grillby looked down at Frisk, raising their chin with a gentle finger.
“May I ask you some questions about what happens, Frisk? You need not respond more than a nod or a shake of your head.”
Frisk nodded. Grillby nodded his head in thanks.
“These…episodes,” he said carefully, “have a tendency to drain your energy, despite your inability to move, correct?”
Frisk nodded.
“They do not seem to have any noticeable cause. Nothing that always makes them happen, do they?”
Frisk shook their head.
Grillby nodded. “When they happen, does it feel as if you should be able to move and you cannot?”
Frisk nodded.
“And when you try to force yourself to move, does it feel as if no matter what you do, your body just gets heavier?”
Frisk nodded. They curled up further in Grillby’s lap, worn out. Grillby patted their back soothingly.
“Thank you, Frisk. Good job.”
Sans smiled as Frisk relaxed a little more. He looked back at Grillby.
“Because the mind cannot understand why the body is no longer responding,” Grillby said quietly, “it…stresses itself out more, trying to fix it. This, in turn, prevents the body from moving.”
“so how do we fix it?”
“Patience,” Grillby said, smiling a little when Sans grumbled, “both on your part and on Frisk’s. The important thing to remember is that it is temporary. It will pass. You must simply wait.”
“and what if waiting don’t work?”
“Frisk,” Grillby asked, “after these episodes, do you seek physical comfort as you did today?”
Frisk nodded.
“Would you be alright with physical contact during the episode?”
Frisk hesitated.
“Take it easy," Grillby murmured when Frisk started to ball their fists in their lap. Sans leaned forward, worried.
"You do not have to know that answer right now,” Grillby reassured, “but if you think of it, please, share it.”
Frisk nodded.
“Talk to them,” Grillby murmured as Frisk started dozing in his lap, “reassure them that everything is alright. They must breathe, relax as much as they can. It is okay. Everything is okay.”
Sans had to admit it, the soothing rumble of Grillby’s voice was enough to put him to sleep. He nodded, watching Frisk yawn and cuddle into Grillby.
“thanks, grillbz,” Sans said, “for everything.”
“You do not need to thank me,” Grillby rumbled, “it is the least I can do to help Frisk.”
“you got that right.”
Sometimes Frisk goes quiet. And that’s okay. After all they’ve gone through, they’ve earned a little quiet.