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The soft sunrays of the morning seeped into the living room, the light hitting Kris’ eyes—poking them awake. They tossed and turned around the couch, but no matter how they slept, it was either they suffocated in the cushions or the sun shined straight into their eyes. Oh well, no point trying to go back to sleep at this rate. They sat up and read the clock: 7:14am.
Damn. they thought. That’s early.
The sun was shining brighter than usual today—but considering it rained last night, they weren’t too surprised.
Kris stared at it, the silence of the house pressing down on their eardrums. Usually, by this time, the kitchen would be filled with the smell of a sweet apple pie, pancakes, or even toast for breakfast. But today, Toriel would be out of town, and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Kris was supposed to be in charge of themselves and Frisk (and Susie, because she asked to stay over and Toriel would never say no. Besides, it’d be nice for Kris and Frisk to have a friend over while she was out.)
Yesterday, they’d spent their whole day with Ralsei in the dark world—and by the time they resurfaced, they had to run back home in the rain. Their plans of sneaking back home before Toriel found out had completely been busted, considering the wet trail on her carpet completely gave the three away.
Safe to say, they all got grounded—and were banned from adventures for a few days but today, Toriel wasn’t even home, who cares if they snuck out!
Kris’ eyes skimmed the room, a blanket had been still been draped over their shoulders like a a cape, Susie was still snoring soundly on the couch, Tenna was still playing those old reruns of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire”, and Frisk was—wait. Frisk was no where in sight.
“Frisk?” they called out. No response. Maybe… Frisk was in the bathroom, and they hadn’t told Kris or Susie where they went in fear of waking the other two up. Or in the kitchen, making themselves breakfast.
Kris stood up and walked toward the kitchen. Nothing. They went over to the bathroom door and knocked on the door.
“Hey Frisk? You in there?” Still, no reply.
They opened the door to find, a bathroom with three wet towels littered across the floor from last nights shower, but no Frisk.
Ok, now something isn’t right.
“Uhh.. Suz?” Kris asked. “Seen Frisk anywhere?”
“Whadya mean dude? You’re Kris…” She sleepily grumbled, her voice trailing off into a muffled yawn as she buried her face deeper into the pillow.
“Oh my god, you dumbass.” Kris muttered under their breath, “Yeah, no shit I’m Kris, I’m asking about Frisk. Where are they?”
“Dude, ion fuckin’ know. Go check the bathroom or kitchen or somethin’.”
“That’s the thing, I did.”
Susie grumpily sat up and took a big stretch.
“FRISK! WHERE ARE YOU!” she yelled.
They waited for a bit and yet again, no response.
Normally, Frisk would yell back with “I’m here!” or something along the lines of that.
“Okay, now that’s weird,” Susie remarked, finally realizing the gravity of their situation. “Have you tried checking your mom’s room or your room?”
“…No.”
“Alright, so we do that first.”
Kris skittered up the stairs, then came the sound from across the hall—a wet, ragged cough, followed by a low, miserable whimper.
Kris’ stomach dropped. They threw back their blanket and padded hurriedly across the cold hardwood floor to their and Asriel’s bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was still slightly ajar. Inside, was Frisk, buried beneath both Kris’ and Asriel’s blanket on Kris’ bed.
They were the first other human Kris had ever seen in their entire life.
"Frisk?" Kris whispered, stepping into the room.
The bundle of blankets shifted. When Frisk pulled the duvet down, Kris’ chest tightened with a sudden, sharp spike of panic. Their cheeks were flushed a violent, mottled crimson. Their breathing was shallow and fast, their skin was pale, and their nose was red.
"Kris," they croaked, their small voice cracking. They reached a trembling hand out, their eyes glossy and unfocused. "My throat hurts. Everything hurts."
Kris froze. Their mind went entirely, terrifyingly blank. They reached out and touched their forehead; it felt like a radiator left on high.
“What do I do?” they thought, a cold sweat breaking out across their neck.
Kris was a human themselves yes, but they never got sick. How do you care for a sick human when the only other one there never gets sick? Panicking, they backed out of the room, pulled his phone from their pocket, and scrolled frantically through his contacts. Their hand hovered over Toriel’s contact—maybe she’d know what to do. No, that’s too risky—she said she’d be unavailable today and she might actually kill Kris if she found out that last nights shenanigans led to this.
They decided against this, and thought it might just be better to have Susie help. Sure, she might know absolutely nothing about caring for sick humans, but her ideas might prove useful. (Although a little bit crazy and completely stupid but sometimes they work, so they’re not complaining.)
Kris practically sprinted down the staircase to find Susie still rubbing the sleepy stuff out of her eyes, waking up.
“Suz?” Kris called out.
"Kris? Dude, it is literally seven in the morning. Someone better be dead or dying."
"Suz, I need you," Kris blurted out, his voice pitching higher than they intended. They were pacing through the kitchen now. "It’s Frisk. They’re... I don't know. They’re sick. Their face is bright red, their burning up, and they’re making this weird rattling noise when they breathe. My mom is gone until tomorrow."
Susie blinked, the remaining fog of sleep instantly evaporating as the gravity of Kris’s words sank in. She stared at them for a second, her yellow eyes wide with a mix of confusion and sudden alertness.
"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Susie said, her usual gruff voice cracking slightly as she stood up from the couch, nearly tripping over an empty soda can on the floor. "Frisk is broken? Like, rattling? Are you sure they didn't just swallow a loose gear or something? Like, I guess we haven’t been the best example in terms of eating habits and what’s digestible for humans but like—"
"Susie, I'm serious," Kris pleaded, their hands trembling slightly as they gestured toward the stairs. "They're burning up. I don't know what to do."
Susie rubbed the back of her neck, a fierce scowl crossing her face as she activated her version of problem-solving mode—which usually involved a lot of improvisation and a complete disregard for conventional logic.
"Alright, look. If your mom’s out of town, we’re the bosses of this house right now. And bosses don't panic. We just gotta... fix 'em. Like a broken engine."
She marched past Kris and headed straight for the kitchen cabinets, flinging them open one by one with a series of loud bangs.
"What are you doing?" Kris asked, following her closely.
"Looking for medicine, obviously," Susie grunted, tossing a box of stale chalk-flavored crackers over her shoulder. "When I get sick, my mom just gives me a bucket of hot water and tells me to sleep it off. But humans are fragile, right? They’re made of like... eighty percent juice. If they’re burning up, we gotta cool 'em down before they evaporate."
Cool em’ down huh?
She finally slammed the last cabinet shut, holding a jar of hot sauce, a half-empty bag of marshmallows, and a bottle of generic, neon-pink liquid that looked like it had been sitting there since 2012.
"Okay, here’s the plan," Susie announced, turning around with a wicked, entirely unhelpful grin. "We pour this pink stuff down their throat. If that doesn't work, we cover 'em in ice. Like, a lot of ice. We fill the bathtub and just dump 'em in. That'll put the fire out."
"Susie, I think ice water might give them shock," Kris pointed out, though they actually stopped to consider it for a split second out of sheer desperation.
"Fine, no frozen bathtub," Susie sighed, rolling her eyes. "But we gotta do something. Take me to 'em. Let me see this rattling thing for myself. Maybe I can just shake 'em until the noise stops."
Despite the absolute absurdity of her suggestions, Kris felt a strange wave of relief washing over them. Susie's complete lack of medical knowledge was terrifying, but her absolute confidence was contagious. They nodded quickly, turning on their heel to lead the way back up the stairs.
"Just... don't shake them too hard," Kris mumbled.
"Hey, I know my own strength," Susie muttered back, flexing her claws as she followed close behind. "Mostly. Just cross your fingers they don't barf on me."
As they reached the top of the stairs, Susie slowed her pace, her heavy footsteps unusually quiet as they approached the closed bedroom door. The faint, rhythmic click-rattle of Frisk’s breathing filtered through the wood, sounding entirely wrong.
Susie stopped, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She looked down at Kris, her fierce expression softening into genuine, clueless bewilderment.
"Hey, Kris?" she asked, dropping her voice to a low whisper. "What does... being sick actually feel like for you guys? Like, do your bones melt? Do your eyes turn inside out? Or does it just feel like that?"
Kris blinked, caught off guard by the question. They stared at the floor, searching their mind for an answer, but came up completely blank.
"I... don't actually know," they admitted, their voice small. "I don't really get sick like that. Not with the fever and the rattling."
Susie snorted, though there was no real heat in it.
"Man, you're a terrible human. You don't even know how your own species works."
But Kris wasn't listening anymore. The muffled sound of Frisk’s coughing from inside the room had triggered a sudden, vivid memory, pulling them back years into the past.
They remembered a winter when the house was buried under heavy snow, and their older brother, Asriel, had come down with something terrible. Asriel, who was usually loud and full of energy, had been reduced to a shivering, pathetic bundle of green-and-yellow striped blankets. He had looked so small, his fur all matted and rough, making a terrible wet wheezing sound every time he tried to speak.
Kris had been terrified that their brother was broken permanently. But Toriel hadn't panicked.
Kris remembered the steady, comforting weight of their mother's presence. She had spent hours in the kitchen, the sweet, earthy smell of cinnamon and baked apples filling the entire house. She had brewed a special hot tea made from golden flower petals and squeezed fresh juice into a mug, sitting by Asriel's bedside and gently humming a soft, rhythmic melody while rubbing his back.
They remembered Asriel crying when their mom tried to cool him off with ice water; his wet fur sticking into his forehead and the sheer spike in temperature difference between the ice and the little goat boy was too much to handle—a sensory nightmare for a small sickly child. To cool his forehead, she hadn't used a frozen bathtub; she had used a soft washcloth soaked in lukewarm water, wringing it out carefully so it was just cool enough to soothe the heat without shocking his system.
By the next evening, Asriel was sitting up, asking for a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, his fur fluffy again.
"Kris? Hello? Krismas, you there?" Susie’s voice broke the silence, waving a clawed hand in front of their face. "You just kinda blanked out on me. Did your brain short-circuit?"
Kris shook their head, the memory clearing away a massive layer of the panic that had been paralyzing them. They looked up at Susie, their eyes focused and determined.
"No," Kris said firmly. "I know what we need to do. No ice, no weird pink stuff, and definitely no shaking."
Susie raised an eyebrow, lowering her hand from the doorknob. "Oh yeah? What's the master plan, Dr. Kris?"
"We need lukewarm water," Kris instructed, already turning back toward the bathroom down the hall to find a clean washcloth. "And we need to make some tea. With a lot of honey."
Susie followed Kris down the hallway, her heavy boots clicking softly against the floorboards as she tried—and largely failed—to adopt a stealthy, caretaking demeanor. Together, they raided the upstairs bathroom. Kris grabbed a clean, ivory-colored washcloth from the linen closet, while Susie, determined to be useful, handled the water.
"So, like, not boiling, right?" Susie asked, testing the tap with a clawed finger, her face twisted in intense concentration. "Just... lukewarm? Like a puddle that’s been sitting in the sun too long?"
"Yeah," Kris nodded, watching as Susie carefully saturated the cloth, wringing it out with a surprising amount of restraint so she wouldn't rip the fabric to shreds.
With the first part of the plan secured, they crept back down to the kitchen. While Susie stood guard by the stove, watching the kettle with a fierce intensity as if she could intimidate the water into boiling faster, Kris searched the pantry. They bypassed the stale crackers and the ancient pink medicine, reaching instead for the glass jar of golden flower honey Toriel kept on the top shelf. They dropped a bag of herbal chamomile tea into a mismatched mug, pouring the hot water over it the second the kettle began to whistle, and stirred in a generous, thick dollop of honey until the liquid turned a rich, amber hue.
"Alright," Susie whispered, holding the damp cloth like a sacred relic. "We got the juice and the rag. Let's go fix the kid."
They tiptoed back upstairs and gently pushed the bedroom door open.
The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the harsh morning sun. Frisk was a small, shivering shape buried beneath a mountain of blankets. Their face was flushed a deep, unnatural crimson, and the rattling sound in their chest was even more pronounced up close.
Susie stopped at the edge of the bed, suddenly looking massive and entirely out of place in the quiet, fragile space. "Man," she whispered, her yellow eyes wide. "They really do look like they’re vibrating. You sure they aren't gonna explode?"
"They're just cold," Kris said softly.
Kris sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. They took the warm washcloth from Susie and gently parted the blankets, revealing Frisk’s sweaty forehead. As soon as the damp, warm cloth touched Frisk’s skin, a long, shaky sigh escaped the younger human's lips. The rattling in their chest seemed to ease, just a fraction, responding to the soothing warmth exactly the way Asriel had all those years ago.
"Here," Kris murmured, gently lifting Frisk’s head to help them take a few small, slow sips of the sweet chamomile tea. Frisk blinked open bleary, exhausted eyes, recognizing Kris through the feverish haze, and swallowed the warm liquid gratefully before sinking back into the pillows.
Susie watched the exchange, her shoulders dropping as the tension left her frame. She let out a quiet huff, a small, genuine smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Huh. Guess the mom-method actually works. No ice cubes required." She patted Kris heavily on the shoulder, nearly knocking them forward. "Look, I’m gonna go downstairs and keep watch. If they start rattling again, or if you need me to fight the fever, just yell."
"Thanks, Suz," Kris said quietly.
Susie gave a rough nod, turning on her heel and slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Left in the quiet safety of the bedroom, Kris kicked off their shoes and carefully slid beneath the heavy blankets. Frisk immediately gravitated toward the new source of warmth, shifting closer until their head rested against Kris’s chest.
Kris wrapped their arms around their younger sibling, pulling them tight against the chill.
Frisk shifted, buried deep beneath the mountain of blankets, and let out a small, weak groan. They blinked their eyes open just a crack, the fever making their gaze hazy and unfocused.
"Kris...?" Frisk mumbled, their voice scratchy and small.
"Yeah. I'm here," Kris whispered, adjusting the warm washcloth on Frisk's forehead so it wouldn't slip. "How are you feeling?"
"Like... a soggy marshmallow," Frisk breathed out, a tiny, exhausted smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. They leaned their head heavier against Kris's chest. "My throat feels like it has rocks in it."
"Susie wanted to put you in a bathtub full of ice to put the fire out," Kris said dryly, their chest rumbling slightly with a quiet chuckle. "I told her no."
Frisk let out a weak, raspy laugh, instantly wincing a little as it turned into a soft cough. "Good choice. Thanks." They went quiet for a moment, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of Kris's heart. "Mom's not home, is she?"
"Not until tomorrow. But we've got it handled. You just need to rest."
Kris began to hum—a low, slow, rhythmic melody that they had stolen straight from Toriel’s kitchen years ago. It was a monster’s lullaby, meant for fur and magic, but as Kris held Frisk close, the familiar tune seemed to weave a quiet safety around them both.
"I like that song," Frisk murmured, their eyelids growing heavy again as the warmth of the tea and the blankets finally started to settle deep into their bones. "Sounds like... home."
"It's what Mom did for Asriel when he was sick," Kris whispered back, resting their chin gently on top of Frisk’s messy hair. "It always worked."
"Mmm..." Frisk hummed in response, their breathing gradually slowing down. The harsh, frightening rattle in their chest finally began to soften, smoothing out into a quiet, peaceful snore.
Kris kept their arms wrapped securely around them, watching the steady rise and fall of their sibling's shoulders, before finally letting their own eyes close against the quiet dark of the room.
The room fell into a deep, heavy stillness, broken only by the quiet tick of the alarm clock on the nightstand and the soft, steady rhythm of Frisk’s breathing. The frightening rattle in their chest had finally faded, replaced by the peaceful, easy sighs of a restorative sleep.
In the quiet dark, Kris lay wide awake for a little while longer, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling.
For as long as they could remember, their own existence had felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. Growing up as the only human in a town full of monsters, humanity had always felt less like a biology and more like an isolation sentence. When people asked them what it was like to be human, or expected them to know how their own strange, magicless body worked, Kris usually just closed up. They didn't know the exact science of a human fever. They didn't know why their skin ran so hot or why their chest made such terrifying noises when the cold caught up to them. They were the only point of comparison they had, and most of the time, they felt entirely in the dark.
But feeling the small, solid warmth of Frisk tucked securely against their side, Kris felt that old, quiet anxiety start to untangle.
Maybe they didn't need to be an expert on humanity. Maybe they didn't need to have a perfect, textbook answer for what they were.
Kris tightened their grip around Frisk just a fraction, pulling the heavy blankets up over both of their shoulders to seal out the morning chill. They didn't have all the answers, and tomorrow they would still just be two strange, fragile humans navigating a world that wasn't quite built for them. But right now, in the quiet safety of the bedroom, listening to the steady, matching rhythm of their hearts beating in tandem, they had everything they needed.
Closing their eyes, Kris let their own breathing match Frisk’s, drifting off to sleep as the fever finally broke.