Work Text:
there is a monster in frisk's head. they have to assume the monster is in their head, anyways; the flower didn't try to attack them, and nice miss toriel doesn't respond when they reach out towards her, and neither of them seem like the type to ignore someone so fragile.
i am not, the monster snarls, offended. their tail lashes behind them before they flash their fangs, and frisk makes patting motions to try to soothe them. they back off, but keep growling anyways, you are the fragile one, crying over a little dust- we did not even kill the froggit and you sobbed like a little baby.
'okay, okay, monster. sorry.' they sign, even though the monster can hear when they think… they think. or maybe it's only some thoughts. or just loud thoughts? or maybe it's only when the monster is paying attention, because their rambling is ignored in favour of their monster staring around the room miss toriel is letting them use.
frisk does feel a little bad about pretending to sleep. miss toriel is so nice, but they just needed some time to… they don't know what, exactly, but they need time to do it, and if she had seen them curling their hands into their sweatshirt and hunkering down, she probably would have asked questions, or tried to touch them, and they would have cried again.
they hate how often they feel like crying. falling down here was supposed to stop that.
oh, that never works. falling down here never fixes anything forever. the monster's voice is more bitter than the dark chocolate they saw in the fridge, but then it softens as they trace claws over the bedsheets. at least it is better than up there. that, frisk can agree with wholeheartedly. they nod so hard their hair bounces, and the monster laughs. so you are not a complete fool.
frisk frees a hand to wave their stick at the monster, and they lean just out of range, not even having the good grace to cower dramatically from the mighty weapon. they huff at the monster, then return to hugging themself, leaning back against the firm wall. it's too hard to let go of their shirt again, so this time, they try to focus their thoughts. you aren't very nice.
i am not. it took you this long to realise it? maybe i should re-evaluate my idea of your foolishness.
why are you mean? the other monsters aren't mean. except flowey. are you friends?
the monster recoils from them, a flinch they can feel somewhere in their head, almost like a yank on their soul, pulling on whatever is tethering the monster to them. they turn their back on frisk, shoulders stiff. no. he is a LIAR. and i HATE LIARS! the monster snaps out, snarling fury, but their tail thrashes twice and tucks between their legs like a scared cat. not everyone can be nice, frisk. being nice does not fix anything. it never fixes ANYTHING.
hm… frisk mulls that over, letting the monster calm themself down. they smooth down their green sweater, then push their hair out of their eyes where it's fallen and fluffed up. if i had been mean to miss toriel, she wouldn't've given me pie. frisk nods firmly. so being nice fixed me not having pie.
she most certainly would have given it to you anyways. a lost thing like you? you could have done anything short of cutting her soul out, and she would have pat you on the head. the monster tosses their head a little. m- …toriel loves kids.
you knew her? know her? really? is she- is she really safe? like. am i-
she would not hurt you. not really. not even if you deserve it. she. she is too…
nice?
nice. hmph. their tail flicks out from where it was tucked. yes. i knew her. before she got other children. they wave a paw towards the box of mismatched shoes, but frisk doesn't look long, caught off guard by-
other kids? you mean, she's your mom?
what, is that so hard to believe? she loves fallen children. until they leave.
but you didn't leave, you're still here. i should tell her! she won't be too mad i pretended i think-
frisk starts to push themself up from the bed, but is pinned in place by the monster snarling in their face, claws sinking past their skin in a way that feels worse than just pain, soul caught on the jagged tips. NO! NO! you CANNOT tell her, i will not let you, i will tear this timeline apart if you try, i swear by the angels and demons and every bloody thing under the sun-
let me go! frisk shouts with their thoughts, so hard they whine out loud, trying to jerk away from the claws. i won't tell, i'll be good, monster, i promise, i won't!
the monster snaps their teeth in front of frisk's face once, then unclenches their paws, the fabric of their being smoothing once they're released. frisk scrambles into the corner, clutching their shoulders where the monster dug in like they can press the feeling out, but it's fading on its own stubborn pace.
she cannot know, the monster whispers, the heat in their voice gone. she does not know, so she- she cannot know. where frisk's sweater is still whole and unrumpled, the monster's is torn down the shoulders, and there's scraps of cloth on their claws. it would hurt her, they say even quieter, retreating to sit on the floor, head tucked to the side.
frisk shudders all over, then breathes out the panic, letting it go. they're not hurt. the weird feeling is going away. the monster looks like they hurt themself more than frisk, really, they just- wanted to scare them, apparently, and did a pretty good job. i won't- i won't tell, promise, monster. not unless you tell me to. but i think she'd want to know anyways.
…why do you call me that. are you making fun of me, human? the monster only watches them out of the corner of their eye, a sliver of red peeking between their lowered bangs.
frisk shrugs a little. they wave one hand vaguely, before hugging themself tighter. you didn't tell me your name, and i don't really know what kind of monster you are. so i gotta call you something.
what kind- for a moment, frisk is overwhelmed by some kind of emotion they don't know, one that knots their stomach and makes their head swim. frisk, i only got to be a monster when- when i died. for a little while. only really, i mean, i am- i'm a monster, they snap, but they stumble over their words a little, i am, but no one- but i was stuck looking like a human, looking like you, and then i died, and everyone saw i was a monster, they all knew and it felt so good and then he refused to go through with the plan and i was nothing- i was nothing for so long and it was better than being alive like THAT and now i have to feel- i have to feel THIS-
one of frisk's arms tugs away from their chest against their will, fingers twisting around themselves clumsily, and then the hand is pressed to their face. frisk scowls at the monster, then bites at their own hand to make them stop. don't do that i don't LIKE IT.
…i am sorry. i should not have done that. i just- i- stop making fun of me. i know what i looked like to other people. their tail curls tighter around their legs.
i'm not making fun of you. you look like a baby toriel. i just thought you were the same kind, but i don't really know what that's called, either, so, um, i didn't call you that. frisk thinks hard, then rubs their arm, focusing on it as much as they can. across the room, the monster's sleeve moves a little, and they blink at it. you look like a monster. i wasn't trying to be mean. some of the monsters just call me human, or child, and calling another kid child sounds weird, so.
i… look like... mother? finally, the monster uncurls from their ball, just a little. she's a boss monster.
a boss monster, then, yeah! but with some dark fur. your hair, and, um, here, frisk gestures under their eyes, then to their hands. and kinda faded here. like, dark at your beans, and lighter up under your sleeves. and dark on the tip of your tail. it's cute when you aren't being scary or mean. like, um, like a fluffy goat-lion monster.
for the first time, the monster seems struck silent, just staring at frisk. frisk just shrugs back, lifting one hand to chew on their sleeve.
…i. um. ah. my name. is chara. chara dreemurr. you can- call me that.
okay, chara! you can be my monster friend, and you can help me eat the pie, as long as you aren't too mean. i don't wanna be mean.
chara is quiet for a long moment, then tilts their head in a slight nod, horns glinting in the faint nightlight. that is… acceptable, frisk.