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Frisk lay supine, limbs splayed like a starfish, their gaze fixed upon the ethereal expanse above them. The ceiling, adorned with distant glimmering crystals resembling a night sky, differed from the surface stars; it lacked the clustering and motion of its earthly counterpart. The celestial jewels remained motionless, unwavering in their luminescence. This ‘sky’ lacked the profound depth that the surface sky possessed, too. The surface sky, with its velvety darkness, seemed boundless as it endlessly turned, while this celestial imitation abruptly ceased. Beautiful, yet hollow.
Chara's translucent visage materialized, gently smiling with crinkled eyes as they arched an eyebrow. “Hanging in there, partner?”
Frisk emitted a groan, waving a hand in a feeble attempt to convey their state of being.
Invisible hands, as if an army, pinched and squeezed across Frisk's body, throbbing with a dull agony. Joints stiffened and locked, emitting cracks with the slightest movement. The damp ground seeped through their sweater and undershirt, promising discomfort once they stood. But at present, Frisk couldn't care less. All they yearned for was to transform into a mushroom, vanishing from the world for a few precious hours. A humble request, please, and thank you.
As they lay there, Frisk allowed their thoughts to wander freely, refusing to tether any notion down with names. Warm hues flooded their consciousness, evoking images of crackling fireplaces and delectable homemade pies that melted upon the tongue. A soft mattress, enticing one to surrender and slumber indefinitely. Serenity. Comfort. Tranquility.
Perhaps leaving had been a mistake. In that realm, they found security and contentment. They possessed everything they could desire, willingly forsaken for what? Could they simply... No. They had to return home. Their life and family awaited them on the surface. Abandoning such a reality for opulence was inconceivable. Frisk was resolved; they would go home, without question.
Still, living with Toriel had been a gentle respite. The crackling fireplace bestowed warmth and comfort upon the abode, while the soft, weighty blankets welcomed Frisk in their embrace. And the culinary results that emerged from Toriel's kitchen? Simply divine! Although none of it surpassed their dad's cooking—no one could outdo their papá's Asado. However, the most enchanting aspect was the mellifluous songs that permeated the air. As Frisk traversed the golden hour corridors, an irresistible hum escaped their lips. If they were to describe the melody in a single word, it would be ‘home.’ A place that exuded solace, warmth, and a sense of belonging. Toriel never mentioned it, so perhaps it was merely an intrinsic facet of life beneath the mountain.
The song tickled the recesses of Frisk's throat, yearning to spread its wings and soar, enchanting all who cared enough to listen. How could Frisk deny its beckoning call? The air pulsated with a gentle hum as Frisk liberated the melody from their mind, releasing it into the world. Their body relaxed, the melody permeating the atmosphere, eradicating their worries as if Toriel were right beside them, assuring them that everything would be alright. For a fleeting moment, Frisk allowed themselves to believe her.
Upon opening their eyes, Frisk realized that Chara had vanished. Their gaze darted from left to right until they spotted their ghostly companion seated on the ground nearby, their head tilted back, gazing at the ‘stars.’ A smile adorned Chara's lips, yet it failed to reach their eyes. Their brows furrowed with a troubled countenance, their reddish eyes fixated on an indeterminate point. The edges of their smile flickered as they stared upward at the distant ceiling.
Frisk sat upright, their sulking forgotten as they turned their attention to their friend. “Chara?”
“Huh?” Chara's head swiveled towards Frisk, but their gaze seemed to pierce through them rather than meet their eyes. “Oh, are you done being a moss patch?”
“Are you alright?”
Chara averted their gaze, their shoulders inching upwards. “I'm fine, Frisk. I just...haven't heard that song in a long time.” Their eyes flitted past Frisk, unfocused. “It struck a nerve I wasn't prepared for, that's all. Nothing to worry about.”
“What song?” The one you were just humming, idiot. “The one I was humming?”
“Yeah, that one. That theme always played when…” Chara's voice caught, their response cut short. “When Toriel was around, and everyone could...just relax.”
“Wait. Theme?” Frisk's voice trembled with curiosity.
“Of course,” Chara replied, making a dismissive gesture as if it were common knowledge. “Every monster has one.”
Frisk stared at Chara, their eyes widening as if they just sprouted a second head.
Chara's gaze locked onto Frisk's, their lips curling at the corner. “Don't tell me you've been wandering through the Underground for weeks without noticing the music that accompanies each monster. Seriously?”
“I—” How does one articulate this? “It's not like I hear it, hear it—it's more like when a song gets stuck in my head, and I have this urge to hum it or whistle it...or sing it.”
“Yes!” Chara gestured broadly. “Those are themes!”
“So, that's just a thing here?” Frisk inquired. “Monsters just have music playing...all the time?”
“Well,” Chara shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah.”
“Doesn't that get annoying?”
“Have you felt annoyed by it?” Chara quirked an eyebrow.
Frisk turned their head to gaze at the wall, huffing softly as they crossed their arms. “No.”
“Then no, it doesn't become annoying. It's simply a fact of life down here—just as your soul possesses a color, monster souls possess music.”
“That's…” Frisk found themselves smiling. "Pretty cool, actually."
Chara placed a hand behind their ear, leaning closer to Frisk with a mischievous upturned smirk. “What was that?”
“It's cool! I think it's cool.”
“Well, it goes far beyond sounding nice,” Chara began. “There's a complex system of assets that all weave together to create a theme unique to each monster.”
Frisk shifted their body, sitting cross-legged as they rested their elbows on their knees and propped their chin on their hands. “Go on.”
Chara let out a short laugh. “Alright, since you asked so politely.”