Chapter Text
Kris really wishes they brought a ladder.
They just had to spend hours skulking around in the dark and talking to flowers, of all things, and now they have to climb up the side of their house while actively dying? Give them a break. If they didn’t know the climb as well as they do, they’d probably just lose their grip, fall, and break their neck, and that would be the end of Kris Dreemurr. They could definitely think of a few better ways than that to go out. Luckily, they manage to use what little strength they have left to yank themselves through the window and tumble into their bedroom. The blanket they used to cover their SOUL is, thank the Angel, still where they left it. They could never be sure, not after the bullshit they had to put up with in the Holiday manor (how the FUCK did it keep getting in the vents?!).
Kris tries to stand up. They fail.
Mental note: Stop cutting it so damn close.
They resort to crawling over to the cage. Undignified, but effective. After what feels like hours but was probably only around five seconds, they reach the wagon and throw the blanket off, accidentally flinging the cage onto the floor. It doesn’t break, but the SOUL does impact the steel bars quite hard with a metallic CLANG. Unfortunately for Kris, this puts it about as far from them as it can get without leaving the cage. They drag themselves over to the offending steel enclosure and hoist themselves on top of it, collapsing quite uncomfortably onto the bars. Kris reaches into the cage in an attempt to grab their SOUL. Then they try again. And again.
Damn you, short arms!
After more extremely undignified struggling, Kris finally gets a good grip on their SOUL and pulls it out of the cage, raising it into the air before plunging it back into their chest, where, to their extreme annoyance, it belongs. They feel a bit of their strength return, but instead of being forced upright, they fall off the cage and hit the floor. To Kris’s shock, a loud, hoarse voice echoes in their mind.
“It’s ABOUT FUCKING TIME! I was there for HOURS! What the fuck is going on?!”
Kris frantically looks around for the source of the voice. It speaks again, distracted and evidently distressed.
“Can you please say something? I’ve been floating in an endless void for three hours and I’m starting to think I’m going to go insane.”
Kris tries to manage a “Shut up,” but all that comes out of their half-dead mouth is “Shyup.”
The voice holds back a pained laugh.
Wait a minute. Kris can talk. Somehow, right now, the SOUL isn’t controlling them. Immediately, Kris’s brain starts ticking, and they instantly realize what’s going on.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
This is bad.
Kris slowly manages to climb onto their bed and promptly collapses, dazedly realizing they can still move on their own, too.
Fuck.
The thing controlling them is here, and it can communicate. This is really, really bad. This throws a gigantic wrench into the plan. Fuck, Carol is going to be so pissed.
Also, not only is it here, but it will not stop talking.
“Hey, next time let’s put YOU in the endless void of hazy nothingness and we’ll see how you handle it! It isn’t fun!”
Kris is too exhausted to tell if it’s expecting a response or not. They hope it’s the latter so they can keep ignoring it. It’s not.
“I’m not stupid; I know you can still hear me. Stop ignoring me.”
Kris sighs deeply and manages a mumble.
“…what’ll you do if I don’t?”
“I will get very sad and very loud and I have a feeling you won’t like that very much. Also, you already did.”
“Fuck you.”
“…can’t say that’s not warranted.”
Kris gets straight to the point.
“Leave.”
“You think I haven’t been trying? I told you, I’ve been here for hours! What makes you think that wouldn’t be the first thing I’d try to do?!”
It unfortunately makes a good argument. If it could leave, it would have already.
To the dismay of both Kris and the SOUL, it’s trapped. Trapped, and apparently blind.
“Seriously, I need you to talk more. All I can do is hear right now and it’s FREAKING ME OUT!”
Kris groans, exasperated.
“Maybe I would if you’d just shut up.”
The voice responds with a quiet “…sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that, just stop talking.”
The voice manages a small laugh.
“I’m Canadian. Telling me not to apologize is like if I told you not to breathe.”
Now this is new information. Not that the SOUL is Canadian (well, that is new information, it’s just not important), but that it’s not a demon or a spirit or whatever, it’s a person.
“You’re what?”
“Oh, I forgot to mention that, didn’t I? I’m a human. Or, I was until a few hours ago, I guess...”
Just Kris’s luck. Of course it’s a human. Honestly, Kris would have preferred the demon. At least demons are interesting.
Wait. Did it say it was a human?
“What do you mean, “was”?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Can I have a minute?”
Kris sighs but decides not to press further. This is conflicting, to say the least. Yes, they hate whoever this voice is; it’s spent the past four days controlling their every move and its presence here completely fucks up the plan, but it’s not as easy to hate anymore. This is a person, someone very clearly ripped from whatever life they lived before and forced into a world they don’t belong to. Someone very clearly scared, panicked. Kris would be lying if they said they couldn’t relate, at least metaphorically. Grilling the voice can be saved for another time. With enough of their strength returned to them, Kris stands up and slowly makes their way out of their bedroom, deciding on a whim to check the hallway mirror before going downstairs (making extremely sure to stay far away from the drawer containing a certain book).
Somehow, it’s you.
Kris nearly falls on their way down the stairs, but gets to the bottom eventually and surveys the ground floor. Strangely, the house is in excellent condition, considering the events of the previous night. The sink is clean, the trash has been taken out, and, after a quick check, the fridge appears to be restocked (with the absence of ketchup). Sans must have cleaned up before leaving. A form of apology, maybe?
Thinking about Sans still makes Kris’s blood boil, so they put the skeleton out of their mind.
The first thing Kris sees in the living room is their mother laying sideways in a chair. Evidently, she had been there quite a while, given the fact that she had seemingly been drooling on the armrest. Ew. When Toriel notices her child, she perks up slightly.
“…Kris. Could you be a dear and put some toast on?”
Well, it’s not like they have anything better to do.
“Sure.”
“Thank you, dear… and, don’t forget to put honey on it, okay, honey?”
Kris sighs to themselves and walks over to the microwave, toast in hand. The voice in their head pipes up offhandedly.
“You must be starving. Make a second piece for yourself.”
Begrudgingly, Kris agrees, putting an extra piece of toast in the microwave. They set it to “toast” and stand back for ten seconds. It is an extremely long ten seconds, and seems to get longer whenever they look at the microwave. They resort to turning around and staring at the wall until they hear the ding of the microwave finishing. Kris opens the door, retrieves the spoils of their patience, and carefully spreads honey on both pieces. They wolf down the first one without much thought, and take the second piece over to their mother. Toriel readily accepts the toast and begins to eat it, with little to no regard for the crumbs rapidly collecting on the floor.
“Thank you for the honey, honey.
…Kris… how did you sleep last night, honey?”
Kris is about to lie when the voice speaks up again.
“Tell the truth. For your own sake.”
“…Terrible.”
Toriel looks regretful.
“…I see. I should have expected you were upset. There’s only about 80% as much honey on this as normal.” She laughs to herself, then looks regretful again. “…I got a bit carried away last night, didn’t I?”
Kris nods slightly, uncomfortable. Toriel sighs.
“…My apologies, Kris. To be honest, I was surprised to not see you home. You do know where the spare key is, do you not?”
Kris knows, but the voice evidently did not.
“…Shit.”
Toriel continues.
“I did try calling you, but you never picked up.”
Kris tries to think up a lie that will work.
“Sorry. It must not have gotten through. You know the reception's sometimes spotty on the outskirts of town.”
…Good enough. It’s technically true, anyways; their phone doesn’t work in the Dark World.
“I do admit I should have tried harder. I… don’t remember much of last night, but I assume you and Susie were uncomfortable. I hope she still feels like she can come over…” Kris doesn’t think she does, but they don’t want to upset their mother. “Speaking of Susie, you two are going to the festival together, are you not?”
Kris looks away.
“…She’s going with Noelle.”
Toriel smiles.
“Don’t let that make you think you aren’t wanted, my child. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you with them regardless.”
“…Thanks, Mom.”
“Have fun, honey.”
Kris manages a small smile and walks out the door, making sure to shut it behind them despite their exhaustion. It’s still early in the morning, so most of the town is either still asleep or getting ready for the festival. The only one out right now, besides Kris, is Asgore. He’s standing with his back turned, tending to his flowers. Kris doesn’t really want to talk to him, though. He is their father, of course, and they love him, but there’s been a certain… oddness about him lately. Plus, they really do just want to talk to Susie. It’ll be nice to talk to someone who genuinely considers Kris a friend rather than a tool to be used (or, in the voice’s case, a mental lifeline; something Kris does not have the patience for). They’ve had to deal with far too much of that lately.
There are crates and piles of assorted items blocking most of the streets, so they find themselves funneled towards the school. They can only assume Susie is in the Dark World right now, given her distaste towards the idea of going to her apartment the night before, so Kris opens the school doors and steps inside. As they walk down the hallway, they make sure to wipe the toast crumbs from their mouth. Don’t want them becoming the Indomitable Army of Carbohydrate Minions when they enter Castle Town. Against their better judgement, Kris speaks to the voice in their head.
“Hey. You still there?”
“…Yeah. Just… thinking.”
“What do you think will happen when you’re in the Dark World?”
“No idea. Worst case is nothing changes.”
Kris grimaces. Technically, that would be the best case scenario for the plan, but definitely the worst case for both the voice and Kris themselves.
“Let’s hope it’s not that, for the sake of both your sanity and mine.”
With that, Kris flings open the doors to Castle Town, steps back, and leaps in.