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“Breathe,” Chara whispers in your ear.
You stare at Sans, forcing your feet forward to meet him at the end of the corridor.
“Just breathe,” Chara whispers.
You take a deep breath, stopping just feet away from Sans. Your anxiety shrieks, telling you to turn around, to go back to the Ruins and forget about the Barrier, forget about the surface, and just let Toriel stroke your hair and tuck you into bed.
“Things are different this time,” Chara says, voice barely louder than before. “You didn’t hurt anyone.” You feel hate radiating from Chara as death after death flashes through your mind, none of them yours, though each time ending with Sans grinning down at you with his haunting, glowing eye.
Your hands tremble, gripping the stick tightly in your hands. Sans doesn’t attack, doesn’t chew you out, but you still feel your sins crawl up your back as he looks at you with empty eyes but talks with kind words.
“i knew you’d make it, kiddo,” he says, grin bright and eyes dark. You almost miss what he says next under his breath when your eyes dart around, waiting for bones to break through the floor and skewer you, heart beating in your ears. His gaze was still fixed on your figure, but he seemed to be looking deeper into you. “we missed you.”
--
“Chara,” you whisper to the soul in your conscience.
Asriel is crying. You hope everything will be okay this time. “Just let me win!” he screams. Tears run down his cheeks and drip off his chin. You wish you knew him, knew him the way Chara did to console him. Your limbs feel heavy. You feel guilty when you look at him.
“Chara!”
You try to dodge as a flurry of pure power storms past you from both sides. Something in the pit of your stomach- or was it your heart?- aches, tugs and tugs and hurts . Memories, memories that you can’t recall ever having, race through your mind.
“Chara, please,” you beg, screaming into your mind. “Help me!”
Your knees hit the cold, hard ground, wind knocked from your lungs. You hear crying, sobbing. It’s not just from Asriel this time. You realise that you’re on your own to save him. You realise he’s not the only one that needs saving. You feel the rush of determination lift you up as you wrap your arms around Asriel’s waist. He clings to you, and you feel vengeful energy leave his shaking form and he’s in your arms, the same Asriel you had memories of, memories that weren’t your own. You feel hot tears run down your face and sting in the open cut on your cheek.
“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?” he says, sobbing into your shoulder.
--
You sit in the midst of the bed of golden flowers, poking the dirt with a stick, hugging your legs to your chest. The sun was shining and clouds rolled by, but you feel gloomy. Chara hasn’t talked to you ever since the day the Barrier was destroyed. You aren’t used to having your body and mind back to yourself. It feels suffocating, heavy. You miss Chara’s witty remarks, reminders to keep calm and breathe, urges to keep moving forward and finish things. You even miss their violent tendencies, wishes to just punch that kid in the face for talking down to you for signing when it was hard to speak.
“Chara,” you meekly mutter, voice hoarse from lack of use.
You nudge a clump of soil with the stick. It breaks into smaller lumps by your feet. You feel a tingle run up your spine. “Looks a lot like dust,” you- no, Chara, thinks for the first time in weeks that you’re aware of.
“Chara,” you say again.
You hear a small sniffle.You almost resort back to yelling at Chara with your thoughts again, to evoke some sort of reaction, but you know they won’t answer if you did.
“Chara,” you say again, a crack in your voice surfacing by the end of their name.
“Frisk, please just leave me alone,” Chara weakly says, voice echoing in your head. You can see Chara, huddled in a dark corner of your mind, in a similar position as you. Their cheeks are rosier, wetter, than normal, matching the puffy skin around their eyes.
You rest your chin on your knees. You let the stick fall to the ground, fingers drumming against your kneecaps. You wish Chara was here next to you, sitting with you in the garden, so you could reach out to them, hold them tightly. You feel a familiar tug at you heart. You wish someone would reach out and hug you close to them.
“How can I help if you won’t let me talk to you?” you ask. Your voice is soft and raw. You lower your eyes to your tanned, dirt-covered fingers. The bandage on your index finger is starting to peel itself off. You wonder if Chara is still listening.
You hear sniffling. You aren’t sure which one of you it’s coming from.
--
“Don’t worry,” you tell Chara in the back of your mind.
You creep down the stairs in search of Toriel. Your hand grazes the wooden railing, the veneer smooth against your fingertips. The warm scent of cinnamon-butterscotch pie tickles your nose. You wonder if Asriel can smell it in your room.
“Just breathe.”
Chara takes a deep breath. “Are you sure things will be okay?” they ask.
“Things are different this time,” you say. “You were only thinking of them.”
You catch Toriel’s attention once you pad across the room. She looks up from her book, closing it and smiling when she sees you. You smile at her. You hope everything will be okay this time.
“My child,” she says.
"Mom,” you sign, “there’s someone you need to talk to.”