Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This wasn't supposed to happen.

They've played this game countless times before, across different stages of their young life. Their heart had always been filled with love for it. A type of love that was so unique, so deep rooted within their soul, so all consuming. A type of love that provoked their emotions in such a beautiful, moving way that words could not describe it. A type of love that left them craving and hungry for more at every roll of credits, like it was their brain's favorite snack.

But they didn't think this was the type of "more" that they wanted, something that, by all laws of nature and reality, shouldn't be possible.

At first, it was exciting. Something they hadn't seen before. Something new in the game that they didn't know existed. Did Toby Fox update it or something...? It was the ending cutscene of Chapter 1. They had gone to Kris' room and put them to bed like normal, ready to witness the same fakeout they've seen many times before. The SOUL was chucked into the birdcage, leaving them free to wiggle it around within the bars as if in protest.

They witnessed Kris hobble over to the middle of the room, brandishing their signature knife with a wicked grin flashed towards the screen. They expected the black screen and credits.

The credits did not come.

Instead, they were able to see as Kris soon made their way down and out of the room. They heard the clack of the shutting door through their headphones. They think it was their headphones. A sense of bewilderment fills them, followed by anticipation. Excitement. This didn't normally happen. A rush of dopamine jabs their brain at the novelty, rambling to themself out loud in shocked reaction. What the fuck? Oh my god. What is this? Oh my god. What's happening? Holy shit.

They waited. They waited to see what would happen, their eyes darting across the screen in alert focus, but... Nothing happened for a while. They could still move the SOUL, wiggle it around with rapid tapping of the arrow keys (evidence that the game was not just frozen), but that was it.

Weird.

Okay. They should look this up online, reach for their phone already with the Google search in their head; "Deltarune chapter 1 update" to see if others have discovered the same thing.

Their hand won't move.

Their fingers twitch upon the membrane keys. They try to lift their arm, but it was like their body wasn't listening to their brain. Or rather.. Disconnected.

They try again multiple times, as if the first and second and third were just accidents or malfunctions on their part, but…

No. They can't move. In fact, they can't move any part of themself, at all. Their eyes physically can't move past the screen as if constrained in some unseen barrier, their hands can't lift off the keyboard, as if bound to it.

A sense of panic. Were they paralyzed for some reason? How? Why? They don't have any such health conditions, haven't done anything out of the ordinary lately, so what was happening…?

They attempt to twist their body, but no such luck. They try to kick their legs up and down, but this paralysis was spreading there too…!

… They feel their heart picking up speed and hammering in their chest against their ribs and their fingers tremble. They can still tap on the keyboard keys, leaving visible dark spots of sweat on them, but can't actually move outside of that. The sensation of being stuck even when they're telling, screaming for their body to move is one that grows a pit of sick and dread in their stomach, furthering their panic.

They take a shuddering breath, or try to, anyway. They should call for help. It's 2 AM and their parents were asleep but this was serious. They try again to take a deep breath but their chest is too tight, so when they call for their parents it only comes out as a meek, shaky sob that surely wouldn't be heard throughout the sleeping house.

… They try again to breathe, at all, but… their chest was not cooperating. Like their body was hardly their own anymore.

Their fists clench. A yell rips out of their throat as they want to wrench their hands away but they can't even move a muscle. They cry for help again. They can only get so many words out of their panic stricken lungs. They scream. Could their parents even hear them from down stairs, much less while they were asleep..? Were they too desensitized to their reactive noises and emotional hollers from harmless things…?

They could feel their mind start to fog when something on the screen catches their eye—

Kris was reentering the room, the door clacking open and closed. Normally they would be excited and psyched out to see this but they were currently preoccupied with their situation.

They try to squint through the fog forming in their mind as Kris starts to visibly look around their room. This has never been in the game before. If they couldn't move, they might as well watch, but… their body was beginning to feel more and more distant.

They can't help but let a whimper slip, a sobbed, unintelligible murmur of distress passing their lips.

Kris turns their head toward the cage. The SOUL. Their gaze zeroes in.

Their vision was beginning to narrow and blur. Another sob, more pathetic and broken than before as they feel the last vestiges of feeling in their body fade, ripped away like flimsy strings and fibers.

They think they see Kris stepping toward the cage before their vision fades to darkness and nothingness.

Kris was a lump in their bed, buried under the covers, dead and languid in their inability to get any real sleep. It was the dead of night and their room was drowned in darkness.

They shuffle around haphazardly, fumbling to tear the covers off of them to emerge and launch themself off the bed, landing a foot or two away with a hard thump flat on the floor. Good thing their mom was a heavy sleeper.

The rest of the town outside was quiet and asleep. Nothing but cricket chirps and twinkling stars and the gentle swaying of tree leaves in the wind. Nothing to get in their way.

They push themself off the floor on leaden arms and limp their way over to the center of the room, with a final pivot.

They extend an arm out and flex their fingers in a repeated clenching motion.

Then, without another second of hesitation, they thrust their hand into their chest, plunging fingers into flesh and lifeblood and essence, an aching pool of red. A silent scream tears from their throat, stifling any sound.

They have to search around for it first and it hurts unlike anything else they've ever felt. It's like burning and tearing flesh itself apart, having to wiggle around their fingers and feel around aimlessly in the depths. But they don't care how painful it is, how uncomfortable and troublesome. They need to get it out and show it who's boss.

And once they feel it, that pulsing of warmth and life, a brush of solid energy against their fingers, something once familiar now turned foreign, they grasp it tight in a snatch, and tear it out of themself. Gooey strings and strands stretch out in resistance before snapping with a resounding crack.

The SOUL. Their soul. Except… not really theirs anymore.

It was only a small red heart, soft and bright, glowing and warm. This was the first time they've been able to properly get a look at their temporary parasite, and they weren't really sure what they were expecting, but… It was still a little outrageous to them how such a small, helpless little thing had such power over them.

But not too much, and not for long. Not like this, outside of their body. And they would show it that. They were prepared, and they've been waiting for this moment all day today.

They hobble a few steps down. With one swift motion of their arm they hurl the thing across the room, straight into the birdcage in the corner, with enough force to teeter the whole thing on its edge with a recoil before settling, the cage latch slamming itself closed.

It felt satisfying doing that, and that wasn't even the best part.

Walking up back to the middle of their room, they dig around their pockets, grasping a handle, and unsheathe their knife, the blade scraping the fabric on the way out. Deliberately, slowly, they turn it in their hand to point the blade up and outward. As they do so, they turn their head over their shoulder, making sure it can see… and flash an eerie grin with their teeth.

They maintain it for a few seconds for dramatic effect, before deciding that that should be enough to send the message. Of course, they weren't actually going to do anything bad… but they wanted it to think so. That they could. Just enough to scare it and keep it in line.

And now it was time for the true purpose of all of this. Breaking free of the shackles, reclaiming their freedom and autonomy momentarily, to drag their way out of their room, down the stairs and to the kitchen…

To eat that entire damn pie, steal it from the oven and guzzle it all down, greedily slicing through it and not even bothering to use utensils aside from their knife. The scene was reminiscent of a rabid animal crawling in and raiding a dumpster, a practical crime scene. And yes, they intended to devour the whole thing in one sitting.

Intended, until they heard something. Coming from upstairs, their room… They pause mid shovel, their hands freezing in place and their head raising.

Yelling.

Screaming. Crying… ? It's definitely a voice, and one they don't recognize, they don't think. There are words, but too muffled and… distant, to make out.

Still, the sound itself is clear enough and it's enough to make them jump and forget about the pie in a startled panic, their grip on their knife tightening. They turn their head over to the direction of the stairs as if that would help them hear clearer and make out the noise.

…Okay. Okay. That's weird. What's making the sound? Did someone break into their house? Unlikely, Hometown is completely safe. No one they knew would bother, let alone this house. And it can't have been anyone from outside because the town entrance is blocked. So what the hell could be crying?

They hovered. Honestly, they were just dancing around the question; they had a hunch what might be the source, but… that wouldn't make any sense. Since when could it make sound?

Slowly, like they didn't really want to see, they shuffled their way back up the stairs, knife in hand.

They think they feel scared, a little. And it's been a while since they've felt that. Either way, they know they have to investigate. They can't just leave it and pretend they didn't hear anything. No one else should be in the house right now, so…

They fling the door open to their room, scanning their eyes around the empty space. But there is nothing abnormal. Taking a few cautious steps in and letting the door shut, they find that even the SOUL is still in its place in the corner of their room. But then where did that sound come from..? And why did it stop? Maybe something in the window—

A small, muffled noise sounding like some kind of whine coming from the corner immediately catches their attention as they snap their head towards the source, causing them to freeze in place.

The SOUL.

The sound came from the SOUL.

They don't know if they feel confused, or shocked, or disturbed or what. But they know for a fact that that thing isn't supposed to make sound. Especially not anything human sounding. The knife in their hand almost slips from their fingers before their grip reflexively tightens on the handle.

Throughout the day it's only been a thing that was able to control their body and actions, and never had something like this happened. Not even earlier as they had torn it out and threw it.

They take a step toward it before they even think about it. Then another, and another. Slowly, hesitantly approaching, until they were within arm's reach and their heart was pounding just looking at the thing. Just floating in place midair within the cage. They questioned how the thing could make a noise, but wasn't even moving a millimeter in there.

They slowly crouch down to the floor, never taking their eyes off it, and take in a long, slow inhale and exhale, reminding themself that there's nothing to be afraid of. It was just a damn SOUL. A weak one, that couldn't even escape from their hand while grabbing it. Couldn't escape from the cage. If it tried to repossess them… They would just do the same thing again. They were determined to find out how and where that sound came from.

So they reach their hand toward the cage, fingering the latch lock and pulling it open an inch. Then all the way, watching the SOUL intently.

It wasn't moving.

Just as slowly, just as hesitantly, they reach in and grab hold, not too gently, not too roughly…

…and pull it out of the cage.

Chapter Text

It was dark.

Darker than dark.

The darkness was cutting into her. Severing, lacerating, rending her apart into unreachable metaphysical pieces and shreds, down to the molecular level. It was sucking her in. An unrelenting vacuum pulling her apart and forcing her through the sharp, narrow crevices of space-time and spitting her out into an abyss of 1s and 0s. It was taking her apart and putting her back together.

The darkness was thorough.

All sensation has been voided. A deficit of proprioception, as if there was no body to speak of. No existence to speak of, for an indeterminable amount of time. An eternity yet somehow also an instance.

And then there was light.

A flashbang of blinding red of the purest hue.

The SOUL was not responding.

It wasn't making anymore of that noise, and it wasn't moving even a little bit in Kris' grip. They think they remembered it at least moving after they had caged it… so what gives?

They glare suspicious daggers at it, as if it could actually see and understand what that even meant. Either way, they were keeping their eyes fixed on it, watching for the slightest change, listening for the smallest of sounds, even unintentionally holding their breath for a few moments.

They squeeze their fingers around it a little bit. Nothing. They squeeze it a little harder. Nothing.

They raise their other hand still occupied by the knife, and flick their pointer finger on its surface a few times. Nothing…

They shake it around rapidly and progressively violently for several seconds.

Still nothing!

A faint growl slips from under their breath. A mutter of irritation. Why isn't it doing anything anymore? Just now it was making sound and they know that for a fact, and they want to know how and why, so what changed?!

Their grip tightens a little on both the SOUL and their knife. They don't have the patience to figure this out and deal with this thing. Much less keep staring at it while it does absolutely nothing, so they were getting to a point of near desperation.

They're almost tempted to nick it with their knife or something, but they're pretty sure that would hurt them too… still, they need for something to happen, if only for their own sanity and reassurance that the noise wasn't just all in their head or—

Inexplicably, the SOUL begins to rapidly glow brighter, bathing the room in brilliant red, casting long, dramatic shadows across the floor and walls. Brighter than they've ever seen it. Almost blinding. A gasp escapes Kris' lungs with the slightest of jumps and a widening of their eyes in shock, recoiling away against the sudden flash with their arm moving on its own and stretching out in startle.

In their flinch their fingers loosen and the SOUL slips away like an immovable force…

… To make room for its light shifting and weaving together... Shaping into something. Forming.

And Kris can hardly believe what they're seeing, their eyes squinting against the brightness and their brows furrowing together in disbelief. Or maybe horror, as their legs wobble and back them away with unsteady backward steps.

"W-what the fuh—"

The energy condenses and solidifies as the light emanating from the SOUL sculpts something in strings around itself, becoming something translucent, yet... Undeniably more physical. Shifting, swirling, weaving together into shapes, edges, contours, lines and curves, transforming into a…

… A humanoid figure.

First was the body. Short and young looking of average build.

Then hair, extending from its head, shooting out a short messy bob.

Then clothes— a basic shirt, shorts, and socks, then finally…

Angel wings sprout from the humanoid's back, blooming like feathering flowers, followed by a ring or disk shape drawing behind its head. Resembling a halo.

Watching this, Kris' heart steadily begins pounding and drumming in their chest, unable to process the sight in front of them. Unable to do anything but freeze up, the thought of trying to stop whatever the hell was happening not even occurring, as they instead wonder if they are in danger.

Facial features are sculpted. Nose, ears, mouth, eyes… Then finally, the light eases off.

As if a puppet or ragdoll limping after cut suspension, the now… person..? collapses to the floor with a raspy groan.

And it's that same voice as before.

Kris staggers backward and stumbles down to the floor, frozen in complete stunned shock. Unnerved and shaken up, parts of their body lock up and the knife slips from their hand and drops down beside them. There are no words to describe the absolute horror and befuddlement that stunlocks both their mind and body as their wide eyes stare at the being before them.

Not only did this… person… thing, come out of the SOUL… but it was also a human. Like them. Something they've never seen before. At least in person.

It looked like some kind of spirit or specter…

And the implications were not lost on them. They're just too shocked to properly think and process the connections.

It twitches and stirs from the ground and on instinct Kris' hand reaches and frantically pats the floor for the knife, grasping tight once their fingers touch the handle.

Its head lifts, slow and heavy, as its hands slide across and brace on the floor… And lifts its upper body with a straining effort, its gaze staring ahead and fixing on them.

Its eyes widen. A tension-filled silence weighs overhead, as neither of them say a word or make a move or even breathe for a while. Kris doesn't dare, with their tongue tied and their muscles locked in place, only able to try and process what they were looking at. And they were not taking their eyes off of it, darting around different parts of it and taking it in.

It's only when they witness it beginning to look around their room in a haunted bewilderment that they attempt to think through this all.

It looks like a human. Or… some kind of ghost. But those wings, and the halo, it looks a bit like…

An angel.

But most of all it looks like a human. And this human came out of their SOUL. The parasite, that's been puppeteering them from the inside. The SOUL was even in the center of its chest, as if… Some kind of core to its being.

Does that mean… ?

It looks… scared. Scared…? Startled. In shock, about as much as they were.

They don't know the feelings that are rising up within them as all of these thoughts and observations jump out and repeat in their head, a whirlwind of disjointed cognitions.

It looks down at its own hands with a haunted look in its eyes.

They feel… fear. Maybe a little bit of anger. Outrage. Still shocked, confused, to say the least. Something that makes their heart continue pounding and burning. Something fiery, billowing inside, more and more the more they look at it.

They open their mouth, maybe to question it, to react or say something that they don't know yet, but nothing but air comes out.

No words are exchanged. Kris can't bring themself to say anything, opting instead to just observe what the SOUL ghost was doing. It was… Still looking at itself.

In fact, that's all it was doing. Looking.

Looking at its own hands, scanning its eyes over and over through each finger. Then up its arms, down its own body… then shifting away off to the room and once again darting around the surroundings, and they think they can see a sense of fear in those eyes the more it takes in. Every single part of their room multiple times over, like each object was so foreign, yet…

Then those eyes land straight on them and they involuntarily jump a little bit as if a cymbal came crashing down with the action.

And then they are left with something of a staring contest. Or perhaps one on who will crack and say something first. The both of them are shaking at least a little bit, with Kris swallowing down the stone in their throat, and the other, well…

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

That's all she could think in the moment. She didn't dare break eye contact with the one in front of her, out of… shock? Shared bewilderment? Or maybe fear of what they'd do should she take her eyes off them?

Or maybe just trying to process that it was them at all. Kris. Is it? It would be impossible. Kris isn't real. Deltarune isn't real. It's a video game, and they're a video game character, pixels on a screen… and yet that's the only answer she can come up with for the identity of the person right in front of her, staring back in equal shock.

Horrifyingly, everything she noticed about them matched that pixel sprite she was so familiar with to a T. And from where she could see, even the room matched what was in game. Twin beds against the wall across the room from each other, each coupled with a nightstand, a window in the center… Computer desk just across from her… one side of the room decorated and personalized, with the other barren and devoid of color…

… And in front of her. Striped lime green sweater. Brown pants and shoes, shaggy brown hair to their shoulders…

… Knife in their hand.

They notice, when her eyes stick to that in particular. They straighten up.

Without thinking they move, gripping their knife tighter and lifting themself up to a wobbly stand, as their arm extends to defensively point the knife outward directly towards her.

She flinches, her wings puff up. Their grip is shaky, as if not even sure of what they were doing, but doing it anyway.

They take a shuddering breath, and with a trace of something accusatory in their eyes…

"Wwh– what—… what are you…?"

Chapter Text

"What are you."

The question resounds in his mind. He doesn't think he can answer that question. "What are you."

He doesn't think he knows the answer. Even with a knife in his face, down on the floor with an agitated Kris standing in front of him.

(The knife is not really in his face, but with the tension of the moment having a chokehold on him, it feels that way.)

His hands are hovering in front of him. He opens his mouth as if to answer without yet knowing what to say, because how can he not? With that look they were giving him, and that knife they were waving?

For something more than a moment everything feels in slow motion. Dreamlike. Sensations feel… disconnected, spinning.. Yet all too physical. All too real.

He had thought this was a dream, for the first minute or so. And he is still clinging onto that idea, unable to grapple with the possibility, the fact, that this was reality, some way and somehow. The room around him was real and solid. The walls and floor and ceiling are boundaries that cannot simply be passed through. And his hands…

When he looks down at his hands, they have all ten fingers, clear and undeniable, and yet they were not normal. He was not normal. His body itself, in fact… was far from normal. Where he would expect to see flesh, expanses of sandy colored skin with pajamas over, was instead spectral red.

All red. Bright, glowing, and translucent. Every single part of him, made up of some ethereal substance. From his legs to his shirt to his arms and hands and he can only imagine what his face must look like as well—

"Answer me…!"

Kris' voice cuts through the panicked blur, causing him to flinch and snap his gaze up. His wide eyes meet their angered ones as they emphasize their point with a thrust of their knife forward in the air, demanding a response. One that his brain cannot produce, only able to dart his eyes around looking for one as if it would appear out of nowhere if he tried hard enough.

He thickly swallows.

Kris watches and observes warily.. And they're getting impatient, if the tightening of their hand around the knife handle is any indication. But although pointing the knife at the thing in front of them was a blatant threat, they knew internally that they probably didn't actually have the balls to make good on it, to actually do anything with it, or hell, even get any closer. It was more a kneejerk, defensive measure if anything. Keep it away, keep the pressure, and make it talk.

When it continued not to say anything, they manage a single step forward with a single foot, and that seems to jumpstart it into a stutter.

"I- I don't— I don't know..!" It stammers.

Their eyes narrow, their brow twitches at the sound of its voice. Still, it sounded similar to the one they heard earlier. They were undeniably the same.

"What do you mean you don't know? You just came out of my SOUL!" They stifle their shout.

That seems to make him pause, his eyes widen. Kris' knife points accusingly at him. A beat of silence passes. Their SOUL…?

He looks down at himself once again, looking over and once again taking in the strange translucent, luminescent red of his flesh, and everything else on his body. He notes the clothes he apparently has on, the plain shirt. It's the same color, same makeup as the rest of him, he notices as he reaches down and pulls at the material. And in the middle of his chest… what would indeed look like a SOUL from his favorite game franchise of all time.

A red heart.

A trepid hand hesitantly raises up to brush fingers against the surface of it, flinching away momentarily afterwards, before touching again. Feeling.

"… I… I- I guess I'm…"

Words catch in his throat, because he doesn't really believe what he's trying to say himself. He doesn't want to speak it into existence. Without him even meaning to, his eyes begin to water as his voice wavers. He can't help it. Coming to the realization of what was happening, what this was, what this all must mean, was a horror on its own. But having to explain it to Kris, without even fully knowing himself what, why, or how was going on, made it abysmally worse… because if this was real— and evidence so far was pointing to that conclusion…

… what would they think?

How would they react? How would they feel?

Not anything good, if he had to guess. But they were pressing for an answer. Hell, they most likely just wanted him to talk at all. He didn't want to think of it anymore for more than a second. Just say it.

"I think I'm… y- your SOUL..?"

And Kris was watching it all.

"You… think?"

They're observing. They see how it looks like it doesn't even know its own body. How its hands are shaking and eyes are… watering. They hear how its voice is small and scared.

It looks as scared as they are. As confused as they are. In fact, they can feel it, somehow.

Their feelings muddle, as revelation after revelation unveils before their wide eyes. They can't help but feel uncomfortable with it all. Frustration, at the uncertain, unfathomable answer… followed by the dreadful epiphany that, yes…

…their SOUL is a person. And that person was sitting here in front of them, looking like he's about to cry.

He looks back up at them, and they can feel a shift within themself as their feelings start to change. Still defensive, wary, but… they can't feel as much hostility with him looking at them like that, like he's silently pleading, believe me, I don't know either. Wondering if his answer was good enough, if it could dispel any confusion at all. And it wasn't really, but…

"You… don't know…?"

He vehemently shakes his head, again, with that desperation for them to believe him. Their knife minutely lowers. It wasn't a conscious decision, it just happens. Their brow creases, incredulous.

"… How… do you not know?"

His brain scrambles and runs circles trying to think of how to explain something he doesn't know, without sounding suspicious or potentially shattering their reality (which he might have already inadvertently done, a little bit, judging by the look on their face.)

"I- I don't know how I got here, how— w-what any of this is, and w-why I'm… like this..!" he gestures wildly to himself.

Kris' eyes narrow.

"You don't know.. anything?"

"W- well, not nothing—"

"Then what do you know?"

This causes a pause in the air. His brain processes the question for a second or two, and after thinking about it… He supposes that is the right question to ask. If he doesn't want Kris at his throat, to explain and figure this out, for them to trust him at least a little, he supposes he should say what he knows the best he can. Maybe minus some parts. And assuming this all was indeed real life and not some nightmare.

His eyes shift away.

"Th… this is real life, right…?"

Kris scoffs.

"What.. you wanna test it out?" They extend their knife out once again, which instantly throws the other into a stammer, waving his hands in the air.

"N- no, no! I- I think I'm good!" He can't help but let a very nervous little laugh slip purely out of anxiety. Kris' stance softens just slightly.

"Then get talking."

"I— okay, but where do I even start?! I— I'm just a person! Idon't know, I was at home, and now I'm here and I don't know why, and I don't know why my body is this way—"

"Slow down." Kris interrupts with a slight exasperation in their tone. Although, they did have to admit, this person was very… normal-person-like. Minus some obvious physical aspects. They were starting to let down their guard the slightest bit, feeling that there was no immediate threat, but never letting go completely.

"Okay," he breathes, "you're right I'm sorry I'm just freaking out and don't know what to say…"

"You said you were… at home…?"

He pauses. Okay. Maybe it was better if they ask questions and he just answers, yeah.

"… yes." he warily nods. "I was at home—"

"And you're a human?"

"Yes, I'm a human! At least, I'm supposed to be..!" he frowns. "I was at home, and I was, uh… w– watching you," his face twists in disconcertment at his own wording, but he really can't think of any other way to put it more delicately… Kris frowns too in an instance of disturbance before he continues, "you were… throwing your SOUL, I guess, me in the cage, and then you left the room and that was when I started feeling weird… I— for some reason I stopped being able to move, like I was paralyzed, even though there's nothing like that wrong with me…!"

Needless to say, Kris was creeped out hearing this stranger describe their own actions that they took while they thought they were alone.

"… so you are my… SOUL?"

"I…"

He hesitates, as if unsure of the answer himself. He is also nervous of their reaction. He wouldn't think anyone would be happy, meeting the person who possessed and piloted their body unwillingly.

"… yes."

"… but you're… also a human..?"

"… yeah." He nods.

He's looking away and tensing up as if bracing himself for some big, resentful reaction.

But none comes. He dares to look, and he sees… well, he doesn't really know. The expression on their face is hard to read… but they have lowered their knife. They look… troubled. Lost. He can feel something, too. An intuition. Like he can just… tell. Though that didn't make it easier to discern, it was so mixed. He frowns.

"Ar—… are.. you okay…?"

This snaps them out of it a little. They must have been zoning out… and what the other just said shocks them a little. They take a few moments to actually respond, which makes him worry more.

"I just… didn't think you were a person."

He stares, now beginning to feel confused himself. That's what they're thinking about..?

He scratches his head. "… I, um… yeah I… Always have been. I just…"

"And you said you… couldn't move." Their voice was softer than before. Less worked up. He takes this as a small victory when he notices.

"Oh, right, I… I was at home, and… suddenly, I stopped being able to move…" It was disturbing just to recall it… he can't help but cringe a little. "… and then I fell asleep or something and that's when…"

"… you appeared here."

".. Yeah. Right."

"But how were you 'at home' if… you know…" they gesture towards him, "you were here. And… how is a SOUL a… human..?"

This is where it gets hard. Not that it wasn't hard before, but… he really doesn't know how the hell to explain that part, without mentioning the fact that they and their world is just a video game to him… and so he's silent for a while, shifting his eyes around. And that doesn't really sit well with Kris.

"… don't tell me you don't know again."

He bites his lip.

"I… Well… I just… don't know how to explain it…" He fiddles with his fingers.

"… figure it out."

"I— believe me, I'm trying…! I…" He gives a frustrated sigh. Not with them, just… the unfortunate situation. "… maybe, um… think of it, like… I'm not literally, physically the SOUL…" He tentatively explains, "I've just… been put in control of it, which… controlled you."

He then looks down at the heart on his chest.

"I… at least, that's how I thought it was, but now it looks like, uh…"

Even now.. his hands are still shaking a little. He doesn't like to think about the implications of this situation, what this all means for him…

Kris' eyes narrow as they consider his words. It… Doesn't really help. If he was in control, then where was he controlling from? And how?

As if sensing their unspoken suspicion and dissatisfaction, he pipes up again, "I— I'm a normal human… and I'm from another place, and I was put in control of the SOUL which controls you…! I… was like an outsider… watching and… puppeting from afar, I guess…"

Kris' hands tighten a little at the word choice of "puppeting," their expression souring. And he immediately picks up on this, his eyes widening and brows shooting up with placating hands raised up.

He props himself up on his knees, and the movement causes Kris to tense and re-point their knife a little.

"K- Kris, I— you have to know this… I'm sorry, for… for everything, for all of this, I—"

"Stop."

They know. They know, deep down, that… being upset with him is a little…

But damn it, they can't help it. Not when the feeling of their body being puppeteered, moving like a robot, doing things they would never do and saying things they would never say to the point that others would notice, was so… unbearable. The loss of complete autonomy. Of privacy. This stranger knows their name.

He shuts up.

He knows he is treading on thin ice here. Of course they're upset. They have every right to be. As far as he is aware, he is little more than an unwanted intruder to them… a parasite.

And he feels so much guilt that it hurts. He always has. He wants to tell them how sorry he is, how he wishes things could be different, how he never wanted to hurt them… but clearly they're not happy right now with him trying to say anything more about it.

So a long, tense beat of silence stills the air around the two.

Kris still doesn't quite know what to think. They're still confused as all hell, frustrated with this… unexpectedness. Frustrated with this person and his unclear answers, and his anxious behavior and his apologies and…

… they don't even feel like questioning him anymore. It's already become clear that he knows about as little as they do.

"… you dunno how you got here?" Their mumbly voice cuts through the silence.

He whispers back. "… no."

His eyes slowly trail up to them.

"… but… I think this all happened… specifically when you took your SOUL out."

Then back down to his own spectral hands.

"… like… s- somehow, that made me get… s- sucked into here… like this…"

The sight of his own hands like this, looking so unfamiliar, so… unreal… and the very words he just spoke… It was all enough to pull him back into that internal panic. Like his brain was filling with static and his vision was going out.

He does not feel real. His body does not feel real.

Even after all of the dialogue he's just exchanged with Kris… he still cannot answer the question…

… What is he?

How did this happen? How did he get here? And, does this mean he… is stuck..?

He's trying. He's really trying not to cry again in front of Kris. They're already upset, he doesn't want to make it all about him… but, again, and like any other time, he can't ever help it when he starts crying. He can't stop his body from producing the tears when he is in such distress.

And Kris does not know what to make of the struggle they're observing. They can tell that the other is in distress… however they can't really find it in themself to particularly… care. At least not right now. Not after all of this. They're sure that somewhere within themself they could understand. By the sound of it, this person had just been ripped away from their world and forced into this one as a new, unfamiliar body. Unwillingly. They just… can't find it in them.

Their brows furrow. Their grip on their knife tightens.

"… you don't know how you got here."

It was no longer a question. Just a statement.

He shakes his head.

"… I'm not putting the SOUL back in."

Finally, he looks back up at them, with a little sniffle.

"… you… you can move on your own…"

… Kris nods.

"… that's… That's great. I'm glad… I'm…"

Finally, after ages, he begins to lift himself up off the floor to his feet… however, he keeps his distance, and his eyes shift back down as he does so.

"… it's.. It's better if I don't have to control you, right..?"

Kris stares.

"… ma… maybe this is… good. Maybe this… Solves your issue."

They can tell that he's putting himself aside.

They lower their knife back down to their side. They can tell that… he's not dangerous. They can tell there's not a bone of malicious intent in him. Although that didn't mean they wouldn't be careful, just… For now, they can give their arm a rest, and subsequently, him as well.

He breathes a little sigh of relief. And although some of the tension and conflict between the two has thawed…

… the downside was that now, neither of them haven't the slightest idea what the hell they're supposed to do now.