Work Text:
When everyone you have ever loved is finally gone
When everything you have ever wanted is finally done with
When all of your nightmares are for a time obscured
As by a shining brainless beacon
Or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world
When you are calm and joyful
And finally entirely alone
Then in a great new darkness
You will finally execute your special plan
The buttercups had to go.
Asriel knelt in the dirt of the garden, his paws already stained yellow from the pollen. He grabbed another stem and pulled. The roots came up with a wet and wounded sound, trailing dark soil. He threw it onto the pile behind him and reached for the next one. His eyes were blurry. He wiped them with the back of his paw, which made it worse: now there was dirt in them too. He grabbed another flower and pulled.
Dad was still in bed. Three days now. Mom said he was getting better, but Asriel saw the way she looked when she came out of the bedroom. The way she held her paws together, or how she didn’t hum when she made dinner.
Another flower. Another wet ripping sound.
"You're making a mess."
Asriel didn't turn around. He knew Chara was there—had known for a while, actually. They moved quietly, like a cat, but when they were watching, it was like a cold spot on the back of his neck. "I don't care," he said. His voice came out thick and wobbly. It was because the thick and clingy pollen in the garden was making his nose stuffy, and for no other reason. "These hurt Dad."
"The flowers didn't hurt anyone." Chara spoke calmly and pleasantly, like when they helped Mom cut potatoes with the big knives. "Your father ate them. That is distinct."
Asriel's paw closed around another stem. "Because you said—"
"Buttercups, right. Not cups of butter. The recipe was not clear." A soft, quick breath that might have been a laugh. "One of those things."
Now Asriel did turn around.
The gray light of the surface filtered down through the cavern ceiling. On it, dust motes drifted like tiny stars. Perfectly still among the flowers, legs crossed, hands folded in their lap, sat Chara. They were smiling, like normal.
They weren’t smiling yesterday, when they asked to be called ‘it’ again. That was one of the only things that ever made them mad. They actually raised their voice against Mom over it, fists balled up, yelling 'anything else was just wrong.'
Well, Asriel hated it. 'It' was for rocks or flowers. 'It' was for things you didn't love. When they were together, he could force himself to say it. But in his head? No, Chara was 'they.' He wanted to say something that proved Chara was his best friend.
Humans were weird, alright.
"You laughed," Asriel said. The word came out harder than he meant them to. "When Dad fell down, in the kitchen. When he started throwing up. You laughed."
Chara tilted their chin up and blinked slowly. The smile stayed exactly the same. "Did I?"
"Yes! I was there! He was—he was shaking, and Mom was crying, and you just stood there and—" Asriel looked down at his dirty paws. They were shaking too. "I don't get why you did that."
"What is wrong with laughing?" They sounded genuinely confused.
"You don't laugh when people are hurt!" Asriel said. "That's—that's basic! Everyone knows that!"
"Oh." Chara was quiet for a moment. Their fingers found a blade of grass and started twisting it, around and around. "I see. I always thought..." They shook their head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter." The grass broke off with a crisp snap. Chara reached for another. "Your father is large. He'll survive. But now we know it works."
"What do you mean? Know what works?"
"The buttercups. We know how much it takes to make someone sick, how fast it happens. We know the symptoms." They spread their hands, like this was obvious. "It’s beneficial to know things."
Asriel’s stomach went tight and twisted, like swallowing a rock.
"You..." He didn't want to finish the sentence.
"I didn't intend for him to eat so many," Chara said. "I thought he would take one bite and stop. Humans usually notice when something tastes wrong." A pause. "I forgot he wasn't human. Foolish, really."
"Chara, that's—" Asriel's voice was rising. There were the tears again, hot and stupid. One day he would have to grow up. "That's really bad! You can't just—you can't do things to people! You can't hurt Dad to learn stuff!"
"I didn't intend to hurt him. I intended to learn. The hurt was..." Chara waved a hand. "Collateral. Incidental. A side effect."
"Those are big words for 'you messed up'!"
Chara blinked. For a moment, only a single moment, their smile flickered. Then rebounded. "I suppose they are."
They were quiet for a while. Asriel went back to pulling up buttercups, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. His paws were too big and fuzzy to grip things properly, so he fumbled everything he tried to do. Now we know it works.
Why would you need to know something like that?
"Asriel."
He didn't answer.
"Stop pulling up the flowers."
"No."
There came the sound of shuffling in the soft soil. Then a small hand closed around his, one half the size of the other.
"Stop," Chara said. "Please."
Up close, Asriel saw things he usually missed. The dark circles under their eyes. The cheekbones that stuck out a little too much. The faded pink ribbon in their hair, the one they so rarely took off.
If you're cuter, people won't hit you as hard.
That's what Chara said, once, when Asriel asked about the ribbon. It was one of the many jokes they made that he didn’t understand.
"Why do you want me to stop?" he said in a small voice.
Chara craned their neck to look around the garden, even though they were alone. "Do you know why I climbed the mountain?"
He shook his head. He'd asked before, lots of times, but never got an answer.
"Everyone said it was cursed." They let go and scooted up next to him in the dirt. It was about the closest they ever got to anyone. "They said monsters lived up there. They said anyone who climbed it would never come back."
"And you climbed it anyway?"
"That’s why I climbed it." Chara pulled their knees up to their chest and wrapped their arms around them. They were still smiling, but it looked more like something they'd forgotten to take it off. "I thought... I’ll climb this mountain, and..."
They trailed off.
"Then what?" Asriel asked.
Chara looked down. Their eyes were dull in the light filtering through the Barrier. "I just wanted everyone to be happy," they said.
"But—how would coming here help? You'd just be gone. That's sad."
"Is it?" Softly. "I don't know if it would have been sad. I wasn't... good. Not the way you are." They tapped their chest, on the right side. "Everyone could tell. They treated me like I was... well. Scary. ‘Not even human.’"
"That's dumb. You're not scary. Except when you do your creepy face."
Chara bumped their shoulder against Asriel. "You are the only person to ever say that to me."
"Well, it's true! You're my best friend. Best friends aren't scary."
They faced away and rooted around for another blade of grass. "Do you know what I realized, when I fell down here? When you found me?"
Asriel shook his head.
"Monsters are kinder than humans." Chara's voice was flat and factual. Like they were talking about breakfast. "Your father carried me to bed. Your mother made me soup. You sat with me for hours, talking, even though I couldn't answer because my throat hurt. Nobody told me that I should stop smiling."
"Chara..."
"And I thought: the monsters are sealed underground because humans feared them. Yet, they are kinder than the humans who sealed them away. What does that say about humans?" The smile grew thin. "What does humanity deserve, Azzy?"
The question hung in the air. Asriel fumbled around for something to say. ‘Deserve’ was one of those words that felt slippery in your hand. Every time he thought he could pin down what it meant, people used it in a new way.
"I think..." He swallowed. "Mom always says you can't judge someone, not even a human, by—"
"I’m not talking about humans. I’m talking about humanity." The word was flat and hard. "I've read things, you know. I've read everything in the royal library. History books. Laws, journals, treatises. Do you know what I found?"
Asriel shook his head again.
"Patterns." Chara's fingers twisted the grass into a little green ring. It looked like the magic rings soldiers in the Royal Guard wore to increase their DEF. "The same patterns, over and over, for as long as the records go back. Humans hurt whoever they meet, and if there’s nobody else, they hurt themselves. It's what they are."
"That's... that can't be true. Not all of them."
"Not all of them would. But any of them could." Chara slipped the grass ring onto their finger, examining it in the light that filtered through the Barrier. They paused, and something in them loosened. Their shoulders fell. "Don't you ever think, Azzy, about… how much simpler it would be? If everyone just went away?"
Asriel's stomach lurched. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." Their voice drew unusually low and almost dreamy. Even when falling asleep, Chara was totally precise with their words, like the air was waiting to hear them. "If it was just us. You and me. Nobody else in the world."
"That sounds..." Asriel didn't want to say. "Lonely?"
"I'd like it." Chara's eyes caught his from under a fringe of brown hair. "I wouldn't have to pretend anymore. I wouldn't have to think about how to talk with anyone, or do the right things at the right times. Not if it was just us. And. And. Nobody would be able to hurt anyone anymore. Nobody would get hurt again."
The grass ring gleamed on their finger. An unmagic charm.
"You’re being weird again," Asriel said quietly. "I love Mom and Dad. I love the monsters in the kingdom. All of them."
"Like who?"
Asriel flinched. He didn’t have many friends, besides Chara. He wanted to, but the royal residence was far away from the parts of New Home where other monsters lived, and when he went down to them, everyone started bowing and calling him ‘my prince’. Sometimes Dad spoke about sending him to school so he could be around other kids his age, but Mom got worried and headachey when he was away from home.
Asriel picked at a clump of dirt on his paw. He had to say something. Otherwise Chara would win this argument, like they won all of them. "I don't know I could be happy if everyone was gone. It’s like, like… looking at all the rows of flowers, and asking, where’s the garden? But they’re the same thing."
Chara fell quiet, and stayed quiet. A long minute dragged on, and then another. Their face grew slack, along with their shoulders, and their breathing became very slow. This happened sometimes, when they were talking: it was like a wind-up toy running down. Asriel could never predict it. In other times, better times, it was peaceful. He would lean back on his hands and close his eyes, listening to their joined-up breathing, and grin at getting to exist in the same place.
"You're a good person, Azzy," they eventually mumbled. "You're so good I can’t understand it."
"Is that a bad thing?"
Chara looked down at the grass ring on their finger.
Asriel knew that when you did wrong, you got punished. Everyone knew that. When he was a kid, he’d once tracked in mud all over the floors of New Home, and Mom was so mad she took his stuffed toys away for a week, even though he cried and cried. It hurt, but it meant he never did it again. What did it mean for humanity to deserve something bad?
Now we know it works.
"Chara?" he asked. "Why did you want to know about the buttercups?"
Chara smiled. It was soft like a flat plain of untouched snow. "You'll understand soon," they said. "I have a special plan for this world. A way to make things right." They stood jerkily, coming back to life, brushing dirt from their clothes. They stuck out a hand to help Asriel up. "Do you trust me, Azzy?"
Their hand was small and pale against the gray light. Chara always figured things out before he did. Always reading, always thinking, always three steps ahead.
"Y-yeah," he said, taking their hand. "I trust you. Always."
"Good," they said. "Because I'm going to need your help. When the time comes, I'm going to need you to be brave, OK?"
"I can be brave."
"I know you can." Chara squeezed his hand once, then let go. "That's why you’re my friend, Azzy. Out of everyone in the Underground. You're the only one who could do this."
"Do what?"
But Chara was already walking away, back toward the castle. The flowers swayed as they passed, catching the weak light like little pieces of the surface up above. Asriel looked at the pile of uprooted buttercups. Besides them were ones still growing, bright and yellow, unaware of the dying.
I won't let you down, he thought.
If not him, who else was there?
Asriel couldn't sleep that night.
He lay in bed and stared at the wall, his back to the room. From behind him came the soft sound of pages turning. Chara was reading again. They always read before bed—sometimes for hours, until Asriel woke up past midnight and saw the glow of their flashlight under the covers.
The room was quiet except for the pages. Two beds, two dressers, and two boxes gift-wrapped with red bows. Mom put those out when Chara first arrived, but they never opened theirs, and so neither did Asriel. Tucked behind his bed were the stuffed animals he’d called his friends when he was a little kid, and above, stuck to the wall, were the plasticky glow-in-the-dark stars they grew in Waterfall. Chara's side had books. Stacks and stacks of books, borrowed from the royal library, piled on the dresser and the floor.
Mom came in earlier to say goodnight. Dad was doing better: sitting up now, drinking water, making jokes about never wanting to see butter again. She'd smiled in a tired way and kissed them both on the forehead, Asriel first and then Chara, and Chara went stiff, the way they did when someone touched them.
Asriel pulled his blanket up to his chin. The wall in front of him was blank. For the ten hundredth time, he wished he was still in Home, not this drab and colorless copy of it. They’d moved when he was young, maybe a year before Chara fell, but even so, he remembered how warm it was there. Warm and simple. A tiny crack in the stone met his eye.
Just say something, he told himself. Just turn around and ask.
Another page turned.
Ask about the buttercups. Ask what the special plan is.
His paws were sweating under the blanket. He wiped them against the fur of his thighs. A bad habit, something only kids did.
Ask why they laughed.
The words were in his throat like cold snails. Chara was right there.
Come on. Come on, come on, come on.
"Azzy?"
Asriel's heart hit his throat. "Y-yeah?"
"You're breathing weird." Chara's voice was calm. Curious. "Are you okay?"
No, I'm scared. I'm scared of the way you talked about everyone going away.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"About Dad," he said quietly. "I'm glad he's getting better."
A pause. Then: "Okay."
The crack in the wall looked like an ugly cut in the stone. As if someone took a knife to the world itself and slashed, slashed, slashed.
"Chara?"
"Mm?"
Ask. Ask ask ask ask.
"...G’night."
Another page turned. "Goodnight, Azzy."
Asriel squeezed his eyes shut. His chest pressed in on itself, crushing him from the inside-out. Was this what growing up felt like? Knowing what you needed to do, and not doing it, and hating not doing it? Wishing you could go back in time, even just a few days?
Now a softer voice cut through the dark.
"Hey. What's the stupidest thing a human ever invented?"
"...What?"
"Come on. You know this one."
He did know. It was their game—one Chara started months ago, when Asriel was sad about something pointless and childish he couldn’t remember now.
"Um." He sniffed. "Shoes?"
"Wrong. Guess again."
"...Hats?"
"Much worse. Keep going."
Asriel shuffled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Chara was in the side of his eye: a shape in the dark, propped up on one elbow, watching him. Like this, you couldn’t tell if they were a human, a monster, or something else.
"I don't know. What?"
"Toll booths."
"What's a toll booth?"
"It's a little building where humans sit and make you pay money to use a road." Chara's voice took on that dry edge they used when they were being deliberately funny. "A road that's already there, and they didn't build. They place a building in the middle of it and demand money."
"That's so dumb."
"I know."
"What if you don't have money?"
"Then you can't use the road."
"But the road is right there!"
"I know."
Asriel couldn't help but smile. "Humans are so weird."
"The worst," Chara agreed. But they said it lightly, almost fondly. Like the word meant something different when it was their game.
"Okay, my turn," Asriel said. "What's the stupidest thing a monster ever invented?"
"Easy. The CORE."
"What? The CORE's not stupid! It powers the whole Underground!"
"It's a giant machine that runs on geothermal energy extracted from magical magma, and they built it right next to a hotel." Chara's voice was flat, but Asriel imagined a smile in it. "One wrong move and the entire resort gets vaporized. Stupid."
"That's not—" Asriel started giggling. "That's not the same kind of stupid!"
"Stupid is stupid, Azzy."
He was giggling now, really laughing, the tightness in his chest loosening. Chara too—quick huffs of air that most people wouldn't even recognize as laughter. But Asriel knew all of Chara's sounds.
"Okay, okay." He caught his breath. "Okay. Your turn again."
"Hmm." Chara was quiet. "What's the stupidest thing in the whole world? Human or monster."
"I don't know. What?"
"You, for still being awake."
"Hey!"
"Go to sleep, Azzy," Chara said. "We can play more tomorrow."
Asriel grinned at the ceiling. The crack in the wall was still there, but now it was only a crack.
"Okay," he said. "G’night."
"Goodnight."
The room settled into the kind of quiet that happened when people don't need to talk.
Tomorrow, Asriel told himself. I'll ask tomorrow.
When Asriel shuffled into the garden the next morning, Chara was already there. They were sitting among the buttercups Asriel hadn't pulled up. A book was open in their lap, but they were gazing at the flowers.
"Howdy," Asriel said.
"Greetings."
He sat down next to them, careful not to crush any buttercups. Even if they were poisonous, they were still pretty. It didn't feel right to destroy something pretty just because it could hurt you.
"What’cha thinking about?" he asked.
Chara deliberately closed the book and set it aside.
"I'm thinking about what it will be like," they said. "On the surface. When we break the barrier."
Asriel's heart jumped. In the time it took to say a sentence, his world grew ten times bigger. He didn’t know much about the surface, except what Mom and Dad told him: that it was beautiful and wide and warm. That you could grow any kind of plant there, not just different kinds of mushrooms. "Is that your… your special plan? But, Dad said that was impossible. The humans used up all their magic making it."
"They did. Foolish of them, really." Chara’s eyes were bright. Excited. It was the most alive Asriel had ever seen them. "They made it with soul power, Azzy. That means that with enough souls, we can shatter it. And it won’t even take many. Six. Six human souls. That's all we’ll need."
"Six? But, Dad said, seven—and, where would we even get…"
"Shh. I know how." Chara reached out and took his hand. Their fingers wrapped around his. "I need you to promise me something first."
"What?"
"Promise me you'll see it through. No matter what. Promise me you won't get scared and back out. You have to promise before I tell you."
"What if..." He swallowed. "Is it a bad plan? Are people going to get hurt?"
"Some things are worth hurting for, Azzy. That's something humans don’t comprehend. They just do it for fun. But, if it’s to save the ones you love? Or to free an entire people? That is different."
And all at once the wrongness was back in Asriel’s chest like a stone.
A single clear thought came out of the mud in his mind. Chara called the humans foolish for making the Barrier in the same way they talked about toll booths, the same way they talked about the CORE vaporizing people, and the same way they talked about almost killing Dad.
He looked at the ribbon in Chara’s hair. If there was one thing he knew, it was that nobody deserved to be hurt.
"I… I don’t know."
Chara squeezed his hand. "Trust me. This is the correct course. When it's over, nobody will be able to hurt anyone anymore. Everyone will be free. All the monsters will be able to live on the surface. Toriel and Asgore, too. Isn't that worth it?"
Asriel thought about his parents. About how Mom got a faraway look in her eyes when she talked about the stars. How Dad grew flowers, because they were the only thing that reminded him of the place he was born, and never talked about.
"I…" he said. "I guess so."
"Good." Chara took a deep breath. "Then promise me. No matter what happens, no matter how scared you get, you won't back down."
Asriel thought about ribbons. He thought about buttercups. He thought about now we know it works. And slowly, carefully, he made a decision. "I promise," he said. "I'll do whatever it takes."
But in his head, in a secret place, he added something else.
I'll help you free everyone.
But I won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. Not even humans. When it's over, I'll tell Mom and Dad everything, and I'll take whatever punishment they give me. They can ground me for a million years, and I won’t cry about it once.
That's my promise. To myself.
Chara was still holding his hand. Flowers swayed around them. The air was thick with pollen: the smell of life.
"Thank you, Azzy," Chara said. "You're the best friend I've ever had."
"You're my best friend too."
And Asriel meant it.