Chapter Text
"But you belong to me."
They whispered, the hot air of their breath deliberately blowing against your ear. Chara's hand was on your face. Their thumb and index finger holding your chin, tilting it up slightly so your eyes could meet their gaze. It was gentle. Almost too tender for the consuming darkness inside of them. Their eyes were still. Focused like a predator. The same gaze that would make your heart stutter even if you know it shouldn't.
It was the color of corrupted rubies. It was red, depthless, and certain—burning with some type of unspoken desire you couldn't decode. It felt consuming. Consuming the sight of you in their memory. Memorizing the way your lips parted, the confusion and subtle naivety in your eyes, the way the temperature of your cheeks immediately raised by a few degrees, the way you just let it happen. You just let them allow you to hold you like this.
The words came out of their mouth like it was an irrevocable fact of the world. It sounded intoxicating. Ownership in the disguise of love. It should have bothered you. Should have made you back down and turn your face away. Should have glared at them with the frustrations you've been holding all this time.
But instead, your body leaned on their touch before your mind could think the absurdity of their words. Your body betraying before your mind could decide. They were taller than you now. They grew by a few inches by sophomore and they've made sure to not let you forget it, to use it to their advantage. They loomed over you, blocking the light, blocking the whole world until it shrinks you into this small state where only them could matter right at this moment.
Until there's nothing left for you but them.
How did you end up in this situation?
Your mind tried to scramble backwards, trying to relive and look back everything that has happened to you thus far. When did things starts to change and only get worse from there? What tipped the moment that made everything else lead you to this point? Was it the moment you woke up with the memories of the past and planned your measly attempts to change the future? Or the day when you woke up to the earth-shattering reality that the weird kid next door was the person that would take your life? The day you've painstakingly, and foolishly decided to befriend that same weird kid who's going to kill you to try and save your life? Was it the time when you realized you couldn't escape the narrative of falling in love with the villain?
Or was it just... always meant to lead to this?
Were you always going to end up here, pinned by those ruby eyes, owned in a way you never agreed to?
"What are you thinking about," Chara murmurs, head tilted, amusement and jealousy for something pointless pooled in their eyes. "Focus only on me, (Name). Don't think of anything else when you're with me. Don't let others get a chance to take a place in your mind."
Their voice was soft, firmed and amused, like you were the most entertaining thing to have happen to them. They traced your jaw, slow, possessive, and somehow in the most endearing way they could. "I can read you. Like a book. The way you try to find reasons to stay. Even when you know you shouldn't. I can hear how fast your heart is beating. The way you've always wanted this."
You squint your eyes, throat drying from disuse in your silence. "Chara—"
"Wanted me." They cut you off.
Their gaze never left yours, still firm, still affectionate. But you couldn't tell if it was the usual charm they wore or if it was the rare warmth they especially reserved for you, or was it that delusional thinking that had lead to this.
Chara doesn't know how to love.
Never cared to know how. They only cared about having you here, now. Of having you by their side forever, even if they'd do it with unorthodox methods.
"Stop pretending you want to leave. We both know you don't." Their voice was almost quiet. Not angry. Just strangely firm... like they're trying to correct a child.
You should argue.You should push them away. You should have walked out and got angry, and proved them that they didn't matter to you as much as they make it seem to be.
But you don't.
You stayed there. In their hold. In their space. With an unamused expression on your face. You knew them too well. You knew yourself too well.
You loved them. Very much so. Painfully so. Enough to let them do whatever they wanted with you. Enough to forget that they're supposed to kill you in the near future, and start an elaborate scheme of death games.
Chara's smile was slow and satisfied. They held your face now. Their touch was warm in a way that they could never be. They know. They always know. You'll always be there.
"That's my girl."
The words shouldn't have make you shiver. It shouldn't have made your heart treacherously flutter. Shouldn't have made your cheeks color with the warmth of maroon. They always do this. They do something diabolical. Then they'd stare at you with that specific look, whisper enticing words that they were sure would make you weak, and hold you like they won't turn away and let go. And you let them anyway. Every time. Every damn time.
"Now... stop overthinking," They leaned closer, and suddenly, their presence overwhelmed you. It was the faint scent of cinnamon of their mother's cooking, something cherry from the lollipop they'd always have on their mouth, and the intoxicating smell of their perfume mixed with their unique smell, that was strangely them. Warmth radiated from their body. "You're mine, (Name). From the moment you were introduced into my life. From the moment you started the series of pranks to try and get a reaction out of me. From the moment you decided that the broken kid who could not feel anything was worth staying for."
"And you—" Chara stopped. Something flickered in those darkened ruby eyes. Something almost vulnerable. It was there and then it was gone. So fast you almost missed it.
Then, deliberately, their free hand that weren't soothing your right cheek lifted. It slid up the back of your neck, making you feel ticklish, then slowly, their long fingers tangled in your hair. Tugging it gently to move to the side. Exposing the curve of your neck,
They stared for a moment in silence. The same ruby eyes burning with intensity.
Then they slowly leaned in, their breath exhaling at your exposed throat. You froze, finding your breathing hitched at the mere fact that the person you're painstakingly in love with was breathing against your neck.
"I don't share," Chara whispers against your skin. "I don't know how. I don't want to learn. And I don't care."
Their lips brush your neck. It felt ticklish. It felt strangely warm. Soft, lingering, and devastating in every way possible for your poor heart.
Then their mouth opens, teeth pressing against the sensitive skin, sunken into the side of your neck, and—you gasped.
It was a gentle pressure at first. Then it was a sharp and jolting, making your head fall back at the sensation.
Chara bit your neck.
A warning. A threat. A claim. You didn't know how to label it as, but it made your breath hitched. It felt pleasant but it felt painful at the same time. The action made your heart a frantic bird against your rib cage. The realization hasn't dawned on your mind yet.
Did Chara just... bite your neck?
Chara held the pressure for a long moment, teeth denting against you but not breaking your skin. Their eyes scanned for your reaction and the best you could give them was you biting your lower lip in pain and in the nervousness of this situation they brought upon you. They smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. When did Chara ever smile in that way, anyway? They enjoyed watching your squirm in their touch, their words, and their presence. That look in your face is something they're certain they owned. A look you wouldn't spare for anyone else but them.
When they finally pulled back, there's a small red mark denting on your neck. A bruise in the shape of their mouth. A love bite. You got a love bite from Chara.
You looked back at them with a stunned expression and they'd just tilt their head without seemingly caring about what they just did. They lift their hand again, placing it across your cheek with a smile of devilish certainty. Before it traced down once more.
"There," Chara murmurs, satisfaction was thick in their voice. They run their thumb over the mark they've bestowed upon you tenderly. "Now everyone knows."
You held off a glare before lifting your hand to touch the spot where they bit you. It stings. It burns. You're going to have to find a way to cover that up to prevent questions that do not need answering...
"Chara..." Your voice came like an exasperated sigh, unknowing if it's a warning or a plea. You really don't know how to react to this or what to do when they're acting like this. How great would it be if you could just pry open Chara's mind and look through whatever sort of thoughts filled that head of theirs.
Chara just hummed, that perfect smile curving their lips. The mask is back. The charming, and untouchable facade of theirs.
"Go home," they say softly. "I'll text you later."
And just like that, you're dismissed.
You stand there for a long moment, frozen in the spot where they held you. Your neck throbbed where their teeth had pressed. You still felt the tingles in your skin from their deliberate touches. Still felt the warmth in your cheeks from the scene that unfolded. Your chest ached with something that feels like longing and alarm and love all twisted together.
How did you end up in this situation?
The question repeated once more.
You still didn't have the answer.
You never do.
____
Life was simple then.
You remember being six years old, small with scraped knees, and utterly convinced the world was cupcakes and rainbows. You lived a normal childhood, not caring about the future nor the repercussions of things. You didn't worry about death games. Did not worry about future events that would lead to your death. Nor worry about how to avoid getting bodied by your childhood friend to be a plot device. You only cared about eating good food, watching weird cartoons, playing and getting sweaty outside till the sun set, and finally sleep in bed harmoniously after a tiring day of doing nothing but enjoying your simple childhood.
Until it wasn't.
The Dreemurs moved in during spring. Your new neighbors settling next to your house. It was a mansion. A mansion that reeked of old money and royalty, and everything that monsters and humans would get envious of.
You watched from the bedroom window as the moving trucks settled down. There were a lot of people. Mainly monsters. A fish lady with red hair dressed in a black tank top. A meek, nervous looking dinosaur-like woman with glasses. She kept turning red when the said fish lady was near. Two skeletons. One wearing a blue jacket with a sleepy expression and a taller one with a long red scarf enthusiastically helping moving things out of the truck. It seemed like they were here to help out a few friends.
The mansion... Your mother had told you the house belonged to a noble monster family once, passed by generations to generations, which meant the family next to your house probably had noble origins. But that didn't mean anything. Not in this era at least. The history of the war between monsters and humans was a very distant past now, when both races learned how to be separate. Now, the house was nothing but a very big house with very tall gates and a garden that grew wild with golden flowers.
You leaned against the window with curiosity, your breath fogging against the pane.
A family stepped out of a separate car. A goat monster—tall, broad-shouldered, white fur and golden-hair—lifted a small, white-furred goat monster wearing a green striped shirt. The boy landed, high and bright while kicking his feet and already run off to bother the other monsters. A seemingly kind looking goat woman wearing a long purple robe followed with a patient smile painted on her face. They were helping another child climbed out of the backseat.
And then—
You saw them.
Small. Human. About your age. A boy? A girl? Somewhere in between? You couldn't actually tell. Their hair was a light shade of brown that seemed to be hued with red, cut in straight bangs that brushed through their eyebrows. They wore a green striped sweater just like the other fur child. Their face was perfectly still. They didn't smile unlike their family.
They looked up at the mansion. Then, slowly, their gaze drifted sideways.
Toward your window.
You ducked.
Your heart hammered against your ribs as if you had done something forbidden. Their eyes. God, their eyes... it was... terrifying. Beautiful, but utterly terrifying. You took a deep breath before peeking again. And the child was already walking forward, a cool demeanor, steps measured.
You didn't know why you felt strange. Like you were supposed to be aware of something. Like you'd swallowed something that hadn't quite settled yet. Like there was something wrong but you can't tell what is.
____
You met them three days later.
A seemingly sweet goat monster family and their adopted human child. It was alright at first. Great, even. The goat lady baked delicious pies and the goat father handed out golden flower tea leaves to your family.
Your mother had baked cookies that were slightly burnt for their own good, and marched you next door with instructions to "Be friendly, dear, they're our new neighbors. Come now, make friends with the children, they're about your age."
The Dreemur mansion was even bigger up close. Your eyes went wide. The gates were curled into shapes that might have been flowers or might have been something else. The gardens were filled with topiary with clear, unique shapes of different things... A skeleton head. You guessed that Mr. Asgore might have done this. You see him sometimes from your bedroom window, holding a big scissor and cutting the bushes to make elaborate shapes. He seemed interesting.
You snap out of your thoughts as you heard your mother press the intercom. The voice that chimed through was warm and feminine, motherly even. "Oh! Visitors! One moment, dear!"
The gates swung open.
The goat woman—Toriel, she introduced herself with a gentle smile that would have played some indie background music in the background—ushered you and your mother inside like you were old friends. Her home smelled of cinnamon and butterscotch, and something floral you couldn't name. The boy from the car named Asriel, already eight years old, already taller than you—peeked around the corner with wide eyes.
"A new friend?" he asked, and his tail wagged. Actually wagged. You'd never seen a goat tail wag before. They seemed fluffy. It made you want to squish him. But that's probably rude to do to someone older than you. You just smiled shyly instead. His brightness is a little overwhelming but it wasn't anything bad, you just perceived him as cool and intimidatingly awesome.
You held out the slightly burnt cookies like an offering. "My mom made this. It's slightly burnt but she says it's the thought that counts."
Asriel laughed adorably, their goat ears flapping. Toriel smiled widely. "Well, dear, thanks a batch!" She made a pun. A pun. She didn't seem like the type to make puns. You didn't expect that out of her but still, a small giggle left your mouth. Your mother simply made a sound somewhere between embarrassed and proud.
And then you saw them. Again.
The human child stood in the doorway to the kitchen. They weren't smiling... They didn't exude the same cheery, bright energy of the family. They simply watched. Flat. Calculating. Bored. Their eyes were the color of everything that felt dangerous. Red, deep, the kind of red that made you think of stop signs and warnings. They were beautiful. Of course, they were, but they seemed... strange. Not the bad kind of strange. Just strange.
"This is Chara," Toriel introduced, her voice softened in a way that made you understand. This one is different. This one needs more love. More patience. More understanding. "She—They're our other child. Chara, this is our new neighbor and their daughter."
Chara blinked. Once. Slow. Disinterested.
"Hello," they simply said.
Their voice was flat. Not mean toned, just... empty. Like they'd learned the word, the meanings of saying greetings, and delivered it correctly but hadn't bothered to feel it. You should have been scared or at least wary, maybe intimidated. Any sensible child would have taken a step back, would have recognized something off in those eyes.
Instead, you grinned.
A new friend.
"I'm (Name)! Do you want to play?"
Chara did not want to play.
You realized this quickly. The first week, you showed up in their big gate and Toriel would welcome you in. You knocked on their door every afternoon with a big smile on your face with the determination of a fallen child. Asriel always answered first with a beam, always eager to play with you, already holding a ball, a board game, a gadget, or anything that might have piqued your interest. You'd play together in the garden, surrounded by Asgore's weird architectural bush art, running until you draw ragged breaths. Until Toriel called both of you inside for some delicious pie and chocolate milk that she's mentioned that Chara liked.
Chara never joined.
They'd sit on the porch steps, sometimes reading, sometimes just sitting, sometimes watching everything with some feeling of boredom you couldn't name. Their ruby eyes would track you and Asriel across the lawn. Always watching.
"Chara doesn't like me," you whispered bluntly to Asriel one day, your body deflated in defeat with a small frown plastered on your face. You didn't know why it bothered you so much. It's been a few months since they moved in, but they rarely acknowledged you, like you were a mildly interesting leaf in their eyes. They never smiled at you. Never spoke a word nor they even greet you when you're visiting. They're just there. Being them.
Asriel's face crumpled with sympathy, a slightly encouraging smile painted his face. He's always so understanding. "They don't really like anyone. It's hard to break their walls. But they're not mean. They're just—" He struggled, frantically moving his hands to think of the right word for it. "Silent."
You frowned tugged deeper but Asriel just gave you a smile that persevered, patting reassuringly your back. "I'm sure they'll come around! They already tolerate you. That's the first step!" He beamed, as if that made things any better, but it was enough to bring determination. You didn't have to befriend them. You didn't even know why you're so persistent on befriending them. But it felt like a challenge.
They're all brooding and mysterious. And you're diagnosed with a curiosity for dangerous things. Just what goes through that head of theirs? What thoughts follow the trail of their ruby gaze? Why are they always so quiet?
And that's enough to keep you going. You were going to befriend them! You're not gonna give up on them! You're (Name) (Last Name)! Giving up is not written in your name!
And so, you persevered.
They weren't as quiet as you'd thought they'd be. You learned that too.
The first time Chara spoke to you directly, you were seven. A year since they moved in next to your home. A year into something that doesn't quite resemble a friendship. They never usually acknowledged your presence beyond what is required. You barely heard their voice unless they were talking to Asriel. At least they had started to respond back, short words and subtle insults usually, but it was enough to convince yourself that you were making progress.
You'd brought them a drawing. A clumsy crayon portrait of the Dreemur family, all horns, all fur and smiles and a tiny human figure in a green sweater with red scribbled for eyes. You'd spent an hour on it. You drew it with the thought that they might appreciate it and finally accept you as their friend.
You held it out, cheeks pink with an embarrassed smile, finger scratching your cheek. "I made this for you."
Chara took it. Looked at it. Held the paper drawing with a careful gaze. Their expression didn't change.
"The drawing is crooked," they simply muttered.
The excitement in your eyes faltered, your grin tightened by a fraction. "I—I can fix it—"
"And you gave me too many teeth." They tilted their head, and for a moment, just a split moment, something flickered in those red eyes. Not warmth. Something sharper. Something that screamed they're a little amused, but not the good kind. "It's ugly."
You didn't cry. You couldn't cry. But your eyes were close to watering. You'd learned not to cry in front of them, because the first time you had... They wore an expression you weren't sure you liked.
The first time was a week earlier. Chara had told you, very calmly, very bluntly, that Santa Claus wasn't real, that your parents had been lying to you, that the presents under the tree were bought from a store like everything else. You stared at them with disbelief, but the expression in their face made it clear that it was real. You'd run home sobbing, and demanded answers from your mother, and when she'd confirmed it with a sad smile, you'd felt something crack inside your chest.
When you told Chara the next day, your voice still wobbly, they'd just stared at you. Their ruby eyes flickered with a fascination you couldn't comprehend. And for a split second, their lips had curved. A smile. Not really, but close to it. Just a twitch. Like they were tasting something sweet. Like seeing you cry was the most amusing thing that had happened to them. They were playing with you. Not the fun kind. But playing with you. You hadn't understood then, but it made your stomach hurt. They smiled just like you've wanted but that wasn't the kind of smile you wanted to bring out of them.
So you didn't cry this time. You swallowed it down. You breathed out and forced a wobbly smile. "I can make a new one."
Chara handed the drawing back with disinterest, their hand gestured in mild annoyance. "Don't bother."
They walked inside without glancing back. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
You stood there for a long moment, holding your "crooked, and ugly" drawing. You pouted. The tears threatening to fall. You turned around and quickly brushed the tears in your eyes with the back of your forearm. You're not gonna cry. You're a big girl now! The afternoon sun was warm on your shoulders. Your chest felt an ache, but you've always been stubborn. Too stubborn for your own good.
Somewhere in the garden, Asriel was calling your name, asking if you wanted to see the cool stick he'd found.
You went to find him.
The next day, you knocked on the Dreemur door again.
You don't know why you kept trying.
That's what you ask yourself now, looking back. Why did you keep coming back? Why were you so persistent to be friends? Chara was cold. Chara was mean. Chara did not care. Chara had told you your drawing was ugly, your hair was stupid, your laugh was too loud, your questions were annoying, and was very clear of their indifference towards you. They'd tricked you into eating a spoonful of cinnamon because they said it tasted good. They'd hidden your shoes and watched you search for an hour. They'd broken your toy "accidentally" and watched how hard you tried to not get angry. They'd told you that your parents would get tired of you eventually, that everyone did, and something in the certainty in their voice had made you believe them for one terrible second.
And yet.
You kept showing up.
Maybe it was Asriel's hopeful face every time you appeared in their gates. Maybe it was Toriel's warm hand on your shoulder, and her soft, comforting smile. The way she'd whisper "Thank you for being their friend, dear." Maybe it was the way Asgore gave you a thumbs up. Or maybe it was something else. Something you couldn't name even now, something familiar in your chest that you couldn't name, with the memories of another life layered over your own.
Maybe you saw something in Chara that no one else did. Something buried. Something that only surfaced in the rare moments. Something beneath their bored expression. Something you felt when your gaze lingered on them. You watched how fascinated they seemed with watching the ant trails, the way they're strangely knowledgeable of biology, or the way they could read whatever emotion the other was feeling. They're really smart. Too advanced. Like they're always expecting for something bad to happen. They're like a puzzle you couldn't solve. And you wanted more. You wanted to know more. You wanted to see how it'd be if they wore other expressions. You thought you were someone who could understand them.
Or maybe, you were just a child who didn't know when to stop.
_____
You're almost eight years old, and for the first time, Chara answered your question. It was nothing special. Stupid, even.
"What are you reading?" You blurted out without thinking like you always did. You'd peek over to see what they were reading, sitting close enough to try and see the book they're holding, but not close enough that would earn a glare from them. It was the same old routine. You annoy them, you keep talking, you sit close to them, while they stay silent and tolerate your presence. Barely.
You expected the usual silence—not caring enough to dignify you with a response—or the blank stare that was borderline insulting that likely meant that you were an annoying bug they couldn't seem to swat off. But this time, Chara glanced up slowly from their book. Their red eyes meet yours. You blinked multiple times and they tilt their head in slight amusement.
"It's about insects." they answered.
You blink. "Oh."
They hold up the cover. It's an encyclopedia. A kids' book...? It has vivid and detailed pictures of insects. "...Some wasps lay their eggs inside living caterpillars." They flip to another page. What followed was a close-up image of a paralyzed caterpillar with tiny larvae burrowed unter its skin. "The eggs hatch. The babies eat the caterpillar from the inside out. It stays alive the whole time. They can't move. They can't fight. They just... feel it."
Then, almost imperceptibly, the corners of their mouth twitched. Like the gruesome fact was more fascinating than disturbing. The first time you had seen something else flicker in their eyes other than boredom.
You stared at them for a split second before staring back at the picture. Something in your stomach twisted. "That's... really gross," You muttered, but you don't look away.
Chara watched your face. They were smiling now. The usual creepy smile that would bring a laugh out of Asriel. But that didn't bother you. At least they were smiling. Even if it was not as genuine as you'd want it to be.
"They don't kill it right away," they continued, their voice casual, like they were just mentioning the weather. "They keep it alive. So the meat stays fresh, efficient and smart, and they get to extort as much as they could before the host finally surrender."
You should probably be scared... Or confused... Or tell your mom. You probably are. You just didn't want to let go of the only chance Chara talked about something they were interested in. The sight of their fascination was addicting. A drop of water in a desert after the months of seeing their expression be motionless and bored.
So instead, you chose to scoot closer on the porch step. "Does it hurt the caterpillar?" What a dumb question it was. It probably did.
Chara's expression flickered into something almost like surprise, then it was gone. They probably didn't expect that response from you. They probably expected you to be creeped out, weirded out, cry about it, or any of that variation—not show interest in it.
"It hurts them for... a while," they threaded slowly. "Then it probably stops feeling anything at all."
"That's sad." You frowned, finding your gaze back to your fingers now, fiddling subconsciously without notice.
Chara tilts their head in curiosity, like they were trying to understand how the normal people would perceive it. "Is it?"
But you don't know how to answer that. You're seven. You didn't understand grown-up talks like they did. You don't know why Chara is showing you this, or why they're watching you so closely, like your answer matters. They probably showed it to you to mess with you. To make you cry. To make you have nightmares. But you find yourself not caring about the little details anymore.
"I wouldn't want to be the caterpillar," you finally sighed. It's what you truly felt.
Chara looks at you for a long moment, inspecting your reaction closely. They waited. Like they expected you to run away or to cry.
You don't.
"No," they agree slowly, head nodding. Then, a pause, and what followed was a softened voice you wouldn't have thought could ever come out of them. "No, you wouldn't."
They close the book. The image of the caterpillar disappears, but they don't tell you to leave. They didn't call you stupid or dumb.
"Can I see the rest?" you glance back with reluctance, staring at them with hopeful eyes, that they would somehow agree to your request. You didn't really care much about hearing the bug and insect facts—you just cared more about what they cared about.
Chara's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close, which counts as a win in your books.
"Don't tell your mom," they muttered with finality.
You nodded eagerly.
_____
Chara, against all odds, started to change.
Not suddenly. Not all at once. Chara did not transform into a different person overnight. They're still mean, still cold, still make you feel stupid sometimes, on purpose, just to watch you squirm.
But now... Now they answer your questions, sometimes. A shrug, a single word, a glance that lasts half a second longer than it used to be. The change of heart was almost miraculously overwhelming, when they used to not even give you the slightest hint of acknowledgement.
"What's your favorite color?"
"Red."
"Like your eyes?"
They didn't bother to answer, but they didn't tell you to shut up either.
"Do you want to play tag?"
"No."
"What about hide and seek?"
"...No."
"I'll give you my chocolate bar if you managed to seek me."
"..."
They find you in thirty seconds anyway. You're pretty sure they cheated, or you're just painfully obvious with your hiding spots...
"Why do you always sit here?"
"It's silent... and peaceful."
"Can I sit with you?"
There was a pause. They stared back at you with slightly widened red eyes with budding irritation. "You're going to talk, aren't you."
"Yes!" you chirped.
They squint their eyes in mild annoyance, and after a small pause of contemplation, they surrendered. "Fine."
You sit there and start yapping about everything and anything you could think of. They don't listen—or maybe they do, because sometimes they correct you when you get something wrong. "The earth is not flat. Don't be an idiot."
But they said it while looking at your face, and they didn't ignore you now.
That's progress.
____
The first time they make you laugh—actually laugh—warmth engulfed you even though that wasn't their intention.
You'd been rambling about something random. A cartoon you'd watched earlier that morning while your mom made breakfast. A character who fell down a hole–who didn't fall yet before they looked down because of cartoon logic—couldn't get out.
Chara, who'd been staring at the sky with that blank expression and default smile, suddenly said something. "Sounds like you."
"What...?" You stopped talking, blinking multiple times.
"You seem to have a habit of falling down a lot. You fell off the swing last week. You tripped over an unsuspecting rock." They stopped to count their fingers. "Three times."
"That was... the rocks were conspiring against me!"
"Rocks aren't sentient beings. They don't conspire."
"Maybe the ones in your house do!"
Chara looked at you, entirely done with your logic, then, very quietly, very dryly. "Maybe you're just stupid."
You should have been offended. A few months ago, you would have cried or frown very deeply, but something about the way they said it... The flatness of their voice, the softness hinted with it, the fed up red eyes that accompanied it, and the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of their mouth.
You snorted.
You glanced at them again before finally laughing. You didn't know why you were laughing either. There was nothing funny. But still, you laughed, the kind that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water.
Chara just watched you. Still no emotion behind their face, but they seemed... puzzled, then amused.
"You're weird," they mentioned.
"You smiled," you grinned.
"I didn't."
"You did! I saw it!"
"You're imagining things."
Then they turned around and left.
_____
You go home that day walking on clouds. You couldn't believe it. Chara actually smiled genuinely, it was barely a smile, but still...! Chara mentioned about something that reminded them of you! They didn't tell you to go away either!
You told your mom that Chara was your best friend now, along with Asriel. She looks surprised for a moment, then pleased, then says something about how wonderful it is that you're finally getting along. It seemed like she could see how determined you were to get close to them.
You don't tell her about the insect book, or the time Chara "accidentally" broke your toy, or the time they told you pessimistic things to make you cry. Or the way they sometimes... look at you like they're imagining what would happen if you stopped breathing.
Those things don't matter. Not really. Because Chara is changing. You can feel it. They're learning how to be a friend, and you're the one teaching them.
You fall asleep that night with a smile on your face, convinced that everything is finally going right, and that Chara was finally your friend.
You have no idea what's coming.
_____
The rock came out of nowhere.
Well, no. That wasn't true. The rock had been there the whole time. Probably one of the rocks in their garden that conspired against you. It was half-buried in the dirt behind Asgore's precious garden, worn smooth by rain and footsteps.
You hadn't seen it, because you were too busy thinking of new games you could play with Asriel... or too busy looking at Chara. You were always too busy looking at Chara.
One second you were running and giggling with your arms outstretched to chase Chara. They had said something mean about your braids or the clothes you wore, but really, you were just pretending to be mad because you wanted to chase them. You just wanted to hear them laugh. You just wanted to seem them smile. You just wanted to be a reason those ruby eyes would flicker with something else other than boredom, even for a second.
The next second, your foot got caught for the hundredth time this week. The world tilted, and then—
Crack.
You fell and you tried to extend your arms to try and save yourself. But unluckily, your head hit the ground first. It was something sharp. Another rock. Of course, maybe the rocks conspiring against you wasn't a joke after all.
For a moment, everything was dizzying. The pain came hot and unhurried behind your eyes. Your head felt like it was gonna break apart. Then, you heard yourself winced in pain, a small, wet, and terrified sound. You forcibly raise your head to look over the shadow that loomed.
Chara was there, standing over you with their presence, looking down with an expression you couldn't read. The both of you shared the same height, but at this moment, it felt like they loomed over you terrifyingly.
"You're bleeding," Chara muttered the obvious fact. Flat and observational, like you were a bug they'd stepped on and was now examining.
You blinked slowly, your vision blurring from every second that had passed. The blood felt warm on your forehead, you could feel it trickling down hour face.
You tried to keep your eyes open, tried to stay awake, but the darkness slowly consumed your vision.
It was dark but it wasn't the empty type of darkness.
It felt strange. You weren't awake, not really, but you didn't lose full consciousness either. Your mind was running off to a different place. Somewhere else. Somewhere that felt like watching a screen with your eyes closed. Like you were in too deep in imagining scenarios.
Images flashed rapidly.
And then... screaming.
The screaming did not feel like it came from your surroundings. It did not seem to come from you either. Something was playing in your head, like it was a distant memory you were reliving.
There were pages turning. A manga panel unfolded in your brain. It was a body, dismembered, arranged almost artistically. A girl sprawled across the ground, eyes rolling back, mouth slightly parted and utterly drenched in blood. There was a stylized text beside her. "The first victim. A sacrifice to raise the stakes."
The body was... you...?
And in the corner of the panel, a girl with short and straight light brown hued with red hair, standing with their back to the scene, not looking at the body but looking at someone else.
Looking at—
Frisk.
The name hit you like a punch to the gut.
Frisk Serif. Golden eyes. Kind smile. "We'll avenge them, partner."
"Dearest Partner." You knew that name. That was the title of a manga. You'd read it, you'd loved it, you'd waited for new episodes of the anime every week. But why now...?
The scene slid back to the face at the corner of the panel. Ruby eyes. That same red, but softer in the manga, kinder, drawn with lashes and gentle shading. A smile that made thousands of readers swoon. "Chara Dreemur."
Your friend.
Another scene. It was in a snowy cabin. Two figures leaning close. Almost kissing. Red eyes gazed back at golden irises. You remembered that scene breaking the whole fandom. You remembered screaming at your pillow for it.
Then as its conclusion. There was an intensely tensioned confrontation. Yellow eyes, sharp, accusing looked back at their red ones. Then, a voice. "It's you. It's always been you."
And Chara stood there with feigned confusion, still smiling that default kind smile they've mastered over the years. Then slowly... the light in their eyes faded. They wore a cold expression for a moment, before they finally smiled. Tilted head. It wasn't the soft smile they reserved for Frisk. Not the kind one they feigned with everyone. A real smile. Sharp. Hungry. Cruel.
"Took you long enough."
You tried to scream. You tried to wake up. You tried to understand why your own death was playing behind your eyelids, why you could see the panel of your dismembered body so clearly, why it felt like remembering instead of dreaming.
The images kept coming. Faster. Darker. Terrifying in many ways.
The death games that killed many. The conspired betrayals between characters. The traps that took many lives. The manipulation. The bodies artistically drawn gruesomely.
Chara, orchestrating everything, their red eyes never missing a detail, and they were smiling through it all. Frisk's golden eyes shattered with betrayal. Their "dear partner," the one they have been with throughout this whole survival journey was the same one that orchestrated it. Clover's yellow ones burning with hatred and love, the deep denial they had to go through, to try and protect their feelings for Chara.
And at the center of this whole thing was still you. You were a footnote to raise the stakes. A plot device meant to make the main characters closer. Chara's childhood bestfriend. So they could cry over you and soften the audience's hearts and make them second guess. You were just a character who died first to show the audience that anyone could go. A character who seemingly haunted the narrative but you weren't even significant to them.
And at the end of the panel was a caption underneath.
"Whatever Chara wants, Chara gets."
"No—!" The word came out as a whimper. Your eyes shot up, your hands scrambled in the dirt, trying to push yourself up, but your arms wouldn't function right. The world was still spinning. The garden felt suffocating. Chara was still standing there, still watching while you lose consciousness. You looked up at them with your eyes, pained and glistened—at Chara—and saw something flicker in those red eyes once more.
It neither concern nor fear.
It was... interest.
"You're acting weird," Chara observed, spoken in feigned concern. They crouched down in front of you, tilting their head. They were smiling. Their red eyes boring through your skull. "Is it the blood? Does your head hurt?"
Yes. No. You didn't know. You remembered watching your death. You remembered living another life before this. You remembered reading about Chara. You remembered how truly insignificant you were to them.
"You're crying," Chara blinked slowly.
You hadn't noticed it. Your tears were mixing with blood, something hot and salty, and felt thoroughly betrayed. You were seven years old. You were seven years old and you remembered your own death and you were looking at the person that would arrange it. And they were just... staring at you with the same fascination they reserved for watching insects.
"The only thing that ever scares them is the fact that maybe they aren't genuine to the people they 'loved.'"
That was from the wiki. You had read that on a forum at 2 AM, scrolling through theories, while waiting patiently for the next episode. You'd thought it was sad. You'd thought it was romantic, even. The cold villain with the hidden heart.
Now, looking up at seven-year-old Chara, at the child who hadn't killed anyone yet, who hadn't orchestrated anything yet, who was just watching you bleed with those empty, and curious eyes.
You felt something cold settle. Your hands were trembling. Your eyes kept trickling with tears. You couldn't say anything else to them.
They don't feel this. They don't feel any of this. They're just... observing.
"(Name)." Chara's voice called out. It was soft, in the most gentle way they could. They reached out, small hand hovering near your face, and for one horrible second you thought they were going to touch the blood. Feel it. Anything.
Instead, Chara's fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your wound, their touch was careful, and their expression shifted into something else. Just slightly. The corner of their mouth twitched upward.
"You look funny when you cry," they simply muttered.
And you, (Name) (Last Name), seven years old with a head wound and memories of a death that hadn't happened yet, stared up at your best friend and felt two things at once.
Terror, and something else buried underneath where you couldn't reach it, the feeling that belonged to someone else. Something you couldn't explain as of now.
Oh no.
Asriel came running out of the house, eyes filled with worry, shouted for their mother.
Chara just continued to watch you with those ruby-red eyes.
I'm still going to love them. Aren't I? Even knowing. Even now.
You were seven, and seven-year-olds don't think in complete sentences like that.
So instead, you just closed your eyes and let yourself cry.
You heard Asriel scream your name.
You heard Toriel's footsteps thundering against the ground, running.
The adults picked you up.
Chara's gaze burn into your skin long after you couldn't see it anymore.
In the garden, alone now, Chara looked down at the blood on the rock.
Looked at it for a long, long time.
Then they smiled.
fin.