Chapter Text
A flat white sun boiled in the sky on the way to school. The trees glowed red and orange. Dull, brownish leaves crunched underfoot as Kris stepped up to the door and paused to adjust their backpack strap.
Inside, the school smelled like wax melts and dry chalk.
Inside, they made their way to their classroom, and sat down at the back desk.
Inside, the air was heavy, and the fabric of their hoodie gained thorns and hooked barbs. The cotton stung, dug, jabbed, and stabbed at their flushed, oily skin.
This body of theirs was a bad body. It had been bad for a real long time, but in this hot and stuffy space, it was just that bit more obvious. Everyone could see it. Everybody knew.
The sun pressed hot against their neck and upper back through the windows behind them. It was a thick, itchy heat that caused the hairs on their neck to prickle uncomfortably. Slick chills dripped down their spine. They reached back to scratch, but there was nothing there. The chair creaked loudly when they adjusted to scoot forward.
They felt several pairs of eyes turn towards the noise.
They bowed their head, and kept their gaze on their desk.
The grooves in the grain trembled throughout the lecture. They furrowed their brow at the shifting, ebbing whorls and blotches. Squinting, they tried to will it to all sit still, but the edges of the world blurred, and the darker stretches of the smooth wooden slab grew into yawning pits before their very eyes. They felt themself lean forward.
“Kris? Excuse m- me…?”
Their head snapped up.
Everyone was looking at them.
A wall of shadows on either side.
Walls of eyes, beaks, fangs, and snouts.
One in the middle of the hoard tapped at the board. The shape at the front of the classroom said, “I was asking you to come up and solve this, please.”
The chair shrieked when they scooted it back. The sound dragged on and on, sending a sharp tingle up their spine. They stood up and stepped to the side, but just as their foot fell forward, there was a loud ripping sound, followed by a series of oily wet splats.
Their blood went cold. Something wet was running down their stomach.
Down between their legs, too.
Oh, god. No, no, no.
Kris felt their face go grayish pale. Their hands (...hand?) hovered in front of them as they looked down. Wide eyes stretched bigger at the sight of the long, jagged, vertical seam that can split open from near the base of their collarbone all the way downwards past their navel. Blood flowed out. Acid flowed out. Black, shiny tar flowed out in an obsidian gush. The edges of the wound were thick and flayed outwards, shiny and silvery with a damp, organic wetness.
The air tasted sour. Inside the gaping crevasse, a red, heart-shaped mass throbbed brightly.
Please.
Someone starts to snicker. “Hehehe, yooo. Kris, what the fuck…”
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.
Another voice jeered, “ew, Kris! Pfhaha! What’re you thinking, just…letting it all out like that? Have some respect!”
I tried. I tried really hard to hide it. I’m not trying to be gross, I promise. I’m sorry.
“K- Kris! That is inappropriate! Y- you cannot- oh…I- I have to call your mother, now.”
It all flowed out. It trickled down their legs and formed a puddle on the floor. Kids stared and gawked and pointed and snickered. They finally remembered that they could move, and the first thing that they did was lock their arms over their chest and step back until their back hit the windows. They left a shiny, oily trail. They were a filthy, gross thing.
Their knees started to buckle. Wobble, wobble, bend. It was too late.
A pair of yellow eyes watched from the classroom door. Kris saw her turn to leave, and reached out on impulse. Instead of a hand, there was a hole at the end of their arm that leaked a fresh gout of liquid viscera onto the already slick, sullied floor.
The gore was rich with twisting shapes. Tiny white worms writhed among the watery filth. They slithered down past their thighs, landing like snow, fresh and white, upon the blackish carpet.
It was too late.
They were already on their knees.
I’m sorry.
Shadows loomed. Shadows laughed.
I don’t want this.
They looked down at their body. They looked, and they hated it.
Get me away from all of this, please.
Hands reached and poked and pointed. Look, just look. How could they NOT look? There was just so much, wasn’t there? So much. One reached out and plunged inside, just because it could. A claw or a paw tightened around a chunk of wet gore that may have been a lung, once, and a high voice shrieked with laughter as it tugged.
“What’s it like, being made of blood? What’s it like, Kris, being so gross? God, I can’t believe you just walk around like this. Can’t you hold your shit together, like…?”
Get me out, get me out, get me out.
They clawed with clawless fingers. They thrashed, and invisible strings squeezed every inch of this thing that they called their body.
They reached upwards and outwards, fingers grasping around empty air. And, yet, through the straining, they felt something begin to give.
I can’t stay like this. I just can’t.
Hands reached and grabbed. A cold set of fingers locked around their throat. Their pulse hammered against a clammy palm as a voice whispered in their ear, though they couldn’t make out the words through the churning scream that filled the whole world. Was that them, screaming like that? All high and sharp and mangled and awful, awful, awful? They felt so cold.
In the corner of their eye, they caught a glimpse of soft white static. With a wide jerk, they moved towards it. Their shoulder hit crystal. The wall began to crack. White and silver splinters spread rapidly across the cool, black surface. They pulled themself by one hand and beat at the hands that grabbed and tugged with their bleeding stump.
Get me out, get me OUT!
Red veins tightened, strained, tensed. The TV’s glow beckoned. The world was shifting layers of darkness, and all they had to go by was that solid white square. There was a rising sound all around. Voices, big and angry. They didn’t want to hear it. Hadn’t they heard it enough?
I’ve had enough. I don’t want it anymore. I want out. I want out, out, out, out.
Clawing, crawling.
Get it off of me. Get it out of me.
The worms. Inside, outside, and they wanted back in.
It was going down their throat and then down their legs.
The strings that tied them by the chest gave a final tremble of resistance. There was a terrible rush of terror, followed by a sense of airy relief. They felt an electric surge as the strings snapped with a resounding tear. They veered, tumbled, head over feet, flayed and broken, and focused on the light.
Help me, they thought pleadingly, please. It’s scary. It’s so dark. I’m scared. I miss you.
They suddenly felt very sad, very fuzzy, and very, very small.
They wanted to cry.
They wanted to be held.
It would all feel better if they could just get to the TV. They’d feel safe. They’d feel clean. Their body was far behind them, down on the floor. The worms could have it. They didn’t need it anymore. They were floating, and they were free.
~~~
Tenna wasn’t quite sure what woke him up. A sort of feeling, maybe. He didn’t even realize he’d woken up at first. He was laying under the comforter, snug and warm beneath the added pressure from the weighted blanket that Queen had suggested he try (and, of course, it was a great idea, and he was once again reminded to remember to trust Queen’s judgement in mostly all things forever), but then he suddenly found himself awake and aware of the night wind outside the window.
What time is it?
He lifted his head slightly. His screen flickered on, and through the dim, grainy haze, he could make out the fuzzy outline of the display face.
It’s too early to be awake…or is it too late not to be asleep?
He rolled over onto his back. His right shoulder let it be known that it was quite annoyed he’d put weight on it. He rolled it and felt the wires and rubber tendons inside strain around a quiet crackle-pop. He flinched. He sighed and sank against the pillows. His many, many pillows…
Why was he awake? He lifted his hands and flexed his metallic claws. The moonlight caught on each segmented joint of his delicate, polished steel-gray fingers. He turned them over, rolling his wrists, and watched shades of muted grayish blue and tinted silver rippled across his palms and knuckles. He missed his gloves. He still had his gloves, but no matter how hard he tried, whenever he put them on, it just wasn’t the same. It used to be that the gloves were by all means PART of his body. Now, whenever he slipped them on, the puffy fabric felt heavy and suffocating against his bare chassis, like a pair of half-inflated balloons that were just a bit too tight around the wrists.
Squeezing his fingers shut for a few seconds, he slowly released and then wiggled them absently. It was a bit chilly. He’d turn the thermostat up a few ticks once it was time to get breakfast started. His gaze wandered over towards the window, and Tenna wondered wistfully when they’d see their first snowfall for the year.
He was also worried that it wouldn’t be so nice.
He thought about snow piling up, and he could see himself strewn among the white drifts, metal torn, suit in tatters, and wires all flayed and exposed to the cold and the dark and the wet.
Why did something as wonderful as snow have to be ruined for him? It felt unfair. It really was just terribly unfair.
A soft sigh trembled in his throat. He rolled his head back over and looked up at his claws. His screen bunched slightly, and, confused, he adjusted and sat upright to get a clearer look of the bedroom door.
“...what the…”
He saw a heart-shaped glow, and his chest buzzed with static.
Then, just as he started to panic, he looked again, and saw that its glow was pink, not red. Terror quickly became confusion, then, worry.
“...K…Kris…?”
A pink soul hovered at the foot of the bed. It bobbed steadily, and pulsed with a steady rhythm. Tenna pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned forward, mindful of his volume as he looked at it, and said very slowly, “...Kris…? Hon, is…can you…hear me…?”
In reply, the soul twitched. It silently began to drift over towards the bed.
What happened? Where’s the rest of you? Did something happen? Did it come back and forced itself back inside of you? Oh god. Oh god, oh god.
Tenna tried in vain to hold himself steady. This had to be a dream, right? An awful, twisted dream. But the weight of the comforter was real where it pooled over his legs. The chill against his shoulders when the comforter slipped down was real. The tender pink glow that throbbed in Kris’ soul, so soft, so bright, that was real, and so was the scream threatening to build in the bottom of his stomach.
“Kris?” he repeated their name as the soul drifted over. It was just this terribly small thing. Barely a few inches. Like an organic heart, it was roughly the size of a tightly closed fist. It didn’t weigh anything, yet he still felt the sensation when the little heart came to hover at rest between his outstretched palms. It was like holding a miniature, lukewarm pink sun.
Something happened, he thought, something happened to you, again, even after all of that, and now you’re-
Tenna was frankly amazed that he wasn’t crying.
This was the sort of thing that used to make him cry.
Was it bad? That he wasn’t crying?
Mostly, he just felt so sad, and so very afraid. My baby, my poor baby. What happened to my poor sweet baby this time…?
Soft pink light pooled in his claws. He cradled them close to his screen. “Hi…” he whispered, “hey…you okay, sweetheart?”
They ebbed gently. He struggled to keep the smile on his blackened screen steady. Of course, he needed to get moving and go to Toriel, or to at least head next door to see what had happened to…the rest of them. His stomach twisted at all the possibilities.
Is it out there, wearing you again? Did it sneak in while you were all cozied up in your little bed…? Did you call for someone, and nobody came? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
“Let’s go and see what the rest of you is up to, hmm? How’s that sound?”
They fluttered. Kris’ soul bumped against the glass of his screen. A small burst of warm prickles ebbed out from the spot where they nudged him. Or was it their attempt at a little kiss?
Something thorny and brambled twisted in his gut. Oh, because you want this tiny child to kiss you, yes? Oh, because you WANT-
Mentally taking a comically large mallet to that train of thought (he was supposed to let it pass and sit with it and let the emotions run their course), Tenna nuzzled back. His antennas bobbled and wobbled. The acidic fear that coated his mind began to fade.
I’m safe. Kris is safe. I want to help Kris and get their soul back with their body. I won’t hurt Kris just by holding them…I don’t WANT to hurt Kris. But just because I don’t want to doesn’t mean I won’t-
Another warm brush against his screen snapped him into focus. Focus. Focus, focus, focus.
He didn’t even think to put a shirt on. His legs didn’t want to, but he hauled them and the rest of his sore body out from beneath the weighted bliss of his bed to drag himself out into the hall. He kept Kris’ soul close to his chest. The light fluttering of their pulse against his chassis felt so, so heavy. None of it felt real. But it was. It was.
Soon enough, he was at the door. He’d grabbed the spare key from his nightstand on the way. There was no time to linger and bask in the sickly bittersweet nostalgia the living room bore. He crept up in stares with a practiced carefulness, and a moment later, he was nudging the bedroom door open with his shoulder. This was a bad idea, bodily speaking, but he did not care.
Ow ow fuck ow fuck I hate having a body that sucks and is bad. Okay, where’s my baby’s corp…
Tenna did not want to finish that thought, actually.
Why did he think that’d be a funny thought?
He focused right away on the positives. Kris’ body was RIGHT THERE on their bed. Not only that, but with a quick glance around the room, he was fairly certain that the angel, if it had returned to torment them all, wasn’t nearby. Which! Great! Asriel was also snoring like a wildebeest with a headcold, which wasn’t so great, but well…!
You’re breathing…!
Tenna’s body went stiff when he reached the side of Kris’ bed and saw that their chest was rising and falling steadily. Relief, raw, pure relief, so thick and so beautiful, his legs threatened to give out beneath him, hit him like a steel beam to the ribs. His own chest surged as he huffed, and leaned over the bed with one hand on the mattress to steady himself. With the other he brought Kris’ soul near his screen and looked down at them, his smile beaming.
“Y…you’re okay,” he said between puffs. His voice rattled with delight. “You’re alright. You didn’t…you’re just…”
Tenna looked at them, body and soul, and now found himself downright puzzled.
What WAS he looking at?
Kris was asleep, obviously. They were laying on their side with their arms tucked near their chest. They slept with their left arm tucked under the pillow, while their right hand twitched and gripped at the bedsheets absently every few seconds. Their thick brown curls fell over the pillow, drawing his gaze towards their eyelids.
There’d been a documentary about the science behind dreams, once. The smartly dressed people with soft, pleasant voices had explained that dreams happened during a period of sleep called REM- Rapid Eye Movement.
“...you’re…dreaming…?” Tenna chuckled a bit. He looked back down at Kris’ soul and quirked the top of his screen. “So you’re…sleepwalkin’? Is that what I’m looking at, here, hon, or…do you…?”
…of course they didn’t know. Kris was asleep. They were asleep with their soul outside of their body, but they were, by all means, fast asleep.
Tenna had often wondered if this was the case when he’d carried them through the Citadel. He couldn’t remember much of that ‘adventure’ himself. Kris said that they remembered what their body had experienced there, but when he asked them, they just shook their head when he asked if they remembered anything from their soul. And he was glad, he supposed…though, he knew it was rather selfish of him to find relief in this.
He shook his head. Focus, focus.
“Okay, Kris. Let’s…get you back in your place, yeah? I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable, bein’ out here like this. It’s too cold!”
Tenna snickered at the mental image of their little pink soul all swaddled in a scarf and a winter coat. When he laughed, they bobbed up, then down, and then rocked from side-to-side. Would they remember any of it this time?
I just think that you’ve had enough of this sort of thing, is the thing. You’ve gone through so much already. And yes, I know that you’re strong, and I know you’ll be okay, but can I be selfish, and just for once hope that things can go easy for you? I think you deserve a break. I think you’re owed an easy life after everything.
And it was stupid and foolish and naive of him to feel this so strongly. And inevitably, things would happen to his sweet baby, and he’d have to accept that. Because life was often cruel. Life wasn’t safe in the way a TV show was. There was no script. It wouldn’t all end tied up, all loose strands resolved in a neat, comfortable bow. Things just happened, sometimes, even to people who’d suffered plenty already. And why did people need to suffer at all? Why was life allowed to be so violent, and sometimes right out of the gate?
For just this moment, though, Tenna could let himself believe in easy-cut, cozy happy endings.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and carefully hooked his arm around Kris’ shoulder to prop them upright. He found himself scooting over so that he was hugging their body to his side, where their head lulled into the crook between his chest and shoulder.
Tenna brushed the hair out of their face. He brought his other claw to their chest with their soul in his palm.
“Okay,” he whispered, “in ya go…!”
But the soul just bobbed there.
Tenna’s nose crunched slightly when he sniffed. “Uh…Kris? You gotta…hop back in, haahaa…! Do you need me to…?”
He cupped his fingers over them, and slowly pushed them into the center of their chest. Gosh, this was a bit confusing, wasn’t it? Was this helping? Sharp slivers of hot pink light pierced outwards from in between the gaps of Tenna’s fingers. Their soul was warming up. The flutter of their pulse slowly shifted towards more of a heavy throb.
“Just…there you go…there you go. Doesn’t that feel better?”
Then, the soul slammed against Tenna’s palm. It didn’t hurt, but it shocked him enough that he jumped in surprise, yelped, and pulled his claw away on impulse. Tenna’s feelers sprung upright as in a blur of blazing pink light, Kris’ soul shot outwards towards the end of the bed like a heart-shaped, neon comet.
“K- Kris!”
They zigged around sharply to the right. Tenna whipped his screen ‘round just in time to watch as they darted over to the computer desk, and then whizzed in a fast arc past Asriel’s bed. His own soul plummeted when he saw where they were headed.
The window. Oh, my fucking g-
It was closed, thank goodness. Tenna dropped Kris’ body, wincing even at the soft impact when their head bounced on the pillows. All he could see was a tiny, delicate soul making a beeline for a hard, glass window: and either outcome for such a thing, folks, would be terrible all around.
Tenna hurled himself off of the bed into a short sprint. He slid in front of the window with his arms outstretched and his fingers fanned outwards. He was just in the nick of time!
The little pink ball of fire hurtled into his chest.
Something bitter welled in the back of his throat. He went rigid around the weight where it pressed and burrowed into the plasticky panel that covered his VHS port.
It burned. Tenna winced and clenched his fangs together tight.
Then, as he looked down, he watched as the soul’s light phased through the thick metal-plastic of his chassis. For a split second he feared that they’d phase right through him and keep going until they smashed through the window.
Instead, though, when Kris’ soul sank partway into his chest, where the heat washed out through his upper torso, he also felt a tingly sense of…tenderness. And with it came in a halogen-tinged burst of color that fell over his thoughts like a curtain-
NO NO NO, I DON’T WANT TO, I DON’T WANT TO. DON’T PUT ME BACK, I CAN’T GO BACK. IT’S BAD, IT’S ALL BAD. IT’S AWFUL AND IT’S HEAVY AND IT HURTS AND IT DOESN’T HELP ME. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THE BLOOD AND THE WATER AND THE MARKS AND THE WEIGHT. I DON’T WANT TO BE MEAT ANYMORE. I DON’T WANT THAT BODY ANYMORE. DON’T PUT ME BACK.
He stepped back. His shoulderblades hit the window.
Oh. Oh, honey.
His claws swooped and clapped shut together around the trembling pink heart.
I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.
He then shuddered, and let his head fall forward. He curled in on himself and over and around them, hoping in stupid vain that maybe he could just hold them like this forever. Maybe he could tuck them away, somewhere, and this time, the world wouldn’t be able to hurt them, anymore.
But I did that. And I just ended up hurting you even more, didn’t I?
It was all just so cruel. Tenna just really, deeply wanted to cry and scream and have a little fit about it, but he couldn’t. Not until Kris was back in one piece.
“I’m sorry. But…you just can’t stay out here, Kris. It’s not safe.”
The weight of their soul sank down heavily. They felt…tired. They’d worn themself out. Poor thing. His poor, sweet Kris.
Tenna slid back onto the mattress. He lifted their body once more, and once again held their soul to their chest. This time, they moved on their own. The soul drifted over until it started to phase into the silky fabric of Kris’ nightgown. The soft pink light spilled over the pale blue, where it reflected on the sheen of the gown like sunlight on ice, coating it in the colors of a winter’s sunset, before it sank in entirely and vanished, taking the light with it.
Kris’ chest heaved. They inhaled sharply. A tiny noise gurgled in their throat, before they suddenly grunted, and slumped forward.
“Oh! Hey, hey. Easy…easy, starshine…” Tenna managed a weary half-chuckle as he wrapped his arms around them tight to hold them steady. He rubbed at their shoulder while they groaned and shook their head. “Hey…hey…I’ve gotcha…it’s okay…”
Kris lifted their head slightly. Their bangs parted enough to reveal one heavy, tired red eye. They looked up at him for a few moments, their chest wheezing with every breath as they gathered their energy to speak. “...what’d…did I do something…?”
Their voice cracked. Tenna’s shoulders fell. “You…I suppose, we’d call it sleepwalking! You…your soul…how much do you remember, hon?”
“I was havin’ a nightmare,” they said, “an’...got really scared. Felt stuck. ‘N then I was out of it, and I went to whatever felt safe, and…why’s your bedroom so messy?” They brushed the rest of the hair out of their face, leaving both eyes exposed as Kris glared up at him judgmentally.
Gasping, Tenna balked. He pressed a claw to his VHS slot. “MESSY? Why…I think the clothes on the floor add a touch of character…!”
Kris ignored him. They leaned to peer around him. Tenna turned. They were both staring at the window.
“...sorry,” Kris said.
“Oh, no. It’s alright, hon. I’m just…” Tenna gnawed at the tip of his tongue for a moment, then sighed. He allowed himself to feel relieved. “...I’m just glad you didn’t go splat, heehee! Like a little fly on a windshield!”
Kris’ face scrunched up unhappily.
Tenna stared at them with a silent, unmoving smile.
They wrinkled their nose. Their eyes narrowed. “...nevermind. Not sorry. I’m goin’ bed.”
They slipped out of his arms, and flopped backwards onto the pillows. Tenna began to slide off of the mattress, but paused when Asriel let out a long, wet snore. He glanced over, and then looked back down at Kris. The glow of his screen cast a white spotlight on their face.
“...we oughta talk about this, ya know. In the morning, I mean.”
Kris’ lips became a tight, thin line. They sighed. “Fine,” they said, and then rolled over to face the wall. Tenna safely assumed that was the most he’d be getting from them for the moment as they pulled the comforter over their head.
“Okay. Night, Kris. Love ya.”
They mumbled something he safely figured was, “I love you, too.”
With his system QUITE frazzled and his shoulders VERY PISSED OFF after all of that panic and rushing so early-or-was-it-so-late, Tenna wandered back over next door. While he was in the living room, he went ahead and nudged the thermostat up by a few degrees. He then huffed as he used the railing to pull himself upstairs, and before long, finally, at last, he flopped back into bed, and once again got himself so, so very snug under the covers.
I love my weighted blanket. My baby’s soul detached from their body and almost smashed through their bedroom window. It’s fine. Ohhh, I love my weighted blanket.
Tenna basked in his cocooned world of fuzzy comfort. Blissfully, he sighed, and sank into a deeper, snugglier dream…
…
…did I lock the door behind me…when I left the house…?
I need to check that. I should check, if I locked the door behind me.
But also, I am so cozy. And I have to get out of bed if I want to check that. Someone could break in. Someone could walk right on in, and it’ll be MY FAULT, for forgetting to lock the door behind me.
Did I even forget? Maybe I didn’t. Maybe it’s fine…but what if I DID forget? Oh, what if I FORGOT to LOCK the DAMN DOOR?!
A strained, staticky scream was muffled by layers and layers of blankets. Somewhere, an owl crooned.