Chapter Text
Kris did not want to wake up.
For a while, they considered pretending they hadn't. It was an easy thing to do. The blankets were warm, the mattress was familiar, and the world outside could continue without them.
There were muffled sounds downstairs. A cupboard opening. Footsteps crossing the floor. The faint clink of dishes. Mom was awake.
Kris could almost picture her moving around the kitchen, preparing breakfast and checking the clock every few minutes. She would notice the time. She would notice that Kris hadn't come downstairs. Eventually, she would probably come knocking.
The thought made Kris pull the blanket a little higher.
They kept their eyes closed for a little while longer, listening to the quiet of the house. Somewhere beyond their bedroom, Hometown was already beginning to stir. The Festival was waiting for them. The entire town seemed to have somewhere to be.
Kris had nowhere they wanted to go.
They did not want to think. They did not want to dwell on everything that had happened lately, not to them, not to Noelle, not to anyone.
At least, that was what they told themselves.
The truth was, Kris wanted to think about it.
More than that, they wanted to understand. They wanted to understand the SOUL inside them: what it wanted, what it was trying to accomplish, and why its desires seemed to burn so intensely beneath the surface. There was something almost wicked about the urge to find out what the SOUL would do if it were allowed to follow those desires to their very end.
Kris could feel it.
Sometimes it felt distant, like something watching from the other side of a window. Other times, it felt impossibly close. So close that Kris couldn't tell where their own thoughts ended and the SOUL's influence began.
There were moments when Kris would suddenly become aware of their own hands. They would stare at their fingers, flexing them one at a time, wondering which movements belonged to them and which had been decided somewhere beyond their understanding.
It was an absurd question. Their hands were their hands. Their body was their body. Their thoughts were their thoughts.
At least, that was how things were supposed to work.
They spent hours trying to make sense of that feeling, trying to reach past the noise in their own mind and grasp whatever the SOUL was reaching for. Sometimes, they thought they were close. Close enough to almost understand it. Close enough to feel something resembling a connection between themselves and the SOUL's desires.
Those attempts never ended well. The closer Kris came, the less certain they became of where they stood. It was like trying to remember a dream while still dreaming it. Every answer seemed to create another question. Every question seemed to pull them deeper.
Those moments were always the worst.
Because whenever Kris got close to understanding, the feeling became stronger. The SOUL seemed almost eager to be understood.
Eventually, Kris came to one conclusion.
It wanted to meet someone.
But who?
Kris had gone through every possibility they could think of. Someone from Hometown. Someone they had never met. Someone they had forgotten. Someone the SOUL knew even if Kris didn't.
Sometimes they wondered if the person was already nearby.
Sometimes they wondered if the SOUL was waiting for a particular moment.
Every time they tried to pursue the thought, a terrible migraine would seize their head, cutting the train of thought short and leaving them unable to reach whatever lay beyond it.
So Kris stopped asking.
Instead, they began wondering how far the SOUL would go to reach its goal.
That question was easier.
Would it tear through everything standing in its way? Would it spread through Hometown like a storm or perhaps a hurricane, leaving calamity in its wake?
Kris imagined the town as they knew it disappearing beneath something they couldn't name. The familiar streets. The school. The library. The little shops. The houses with their warm windows and carefully tended gardens.
It would be a tragedy.
There was shame in that realisation, but there was also curiosity. A terrible, quiet curiosity.
Deep down, Kris wanted to see it happen.
They hated that part of themselves.
Or perhaps they hated that they couldn't hate it enough.
Something was fascinating about imagining the impossible becoming real. Something almost liberating about wondering what would happen if every restraint disappeared.
No consequences. No hesitation. No pretending that everything was normal.
Just the SOUL, finally reaching whatever it had been reaching for.
It was an awful thing to think about, wasn't it?
Just horrible. Dreadful. Cruel.
Not that Kris would ever admit to thinking that way. Not aloud, anyway. Not to anyone, not to Toriel, not to Susie, not to Noelle. Especially not Noelle. That name was enough to make something twist unpleasantly inside Kris's chest. They remembered her expression. The uncertainty in her voice. The way she had looked at them when things stopped feeling like they belonged to either of them anymore.
They probably wouldn't even admit it to themselves.
Ah.
But they had just admitted it, hadn't they?
It was all so complicated.
Truthfully, Kris didn't know what to do. Hah. They didn't even know what to think.
There was something strangely comforting about having the SOUL make all the choices for them. About having something else move their hands, choose their words, decide where they went and what they did. It was terrifying, obviously. Wrong. There were so many things the SOUL had done that Kris could never have chosen for themselves.
And yet...
At least they weren't the one choosing.
That was the comforting part.
Kris turned their head slightly toward the window.
Outside, the Festival was beginning. Even from upstairs, they could hear distant voices drifting through the streets. Someone laughed. Somewhere farther away, music played for a few seconds before becoming too faint to distinguish.
The whole town was moving.
Kris wasn't.
They wondered if anyone would miss them immediately.
Susie probably would.
Toriel definitely would.
Toriel...
Kris stopped that thought before it could finish.
Kris stared at the ceiling.
There was something almost peaceful about surrendering responsibility. If they didn't choose, then they couldn't choose incorrectly. If their hands moved without their permission, then whatever those hands did belonged to someone else.
It was a convenient distinction.
Perhaps too convenient.
Kris knew that somewhere. They knew there was a flaw in the reasoning, something obvious that they were deliberately refusing to look at. But knowing something and accepting it were different things.
They could keep pretending. They had to keep pretending.
If the SOUL made them do something horrible, then it wasn't really Kris's fault, was it? If it decided where they went, what they said, what happened to Noelle, if it kept pushing and pushing until there was no room left to turn back, then Kris could simply tell themselves that they had never wanted any of it.
They could say it wasn't them.
And maybe that was the lie they needed.
Maybe it didn't matter whether it was true.
Maybe responsibility was easier to bear when it could be placed on something else.
Kris closed their eyes again.
For one brief moment, they imagined what it would feel like if the SOUL simply disappeared.
No pressure. No presence. No invisible hand waiting behind every decision.
Just silence.
The thought should have been comforting.
Instead, Kris felt strangely empty at the idea.
Because if the SOUL disappeared, there would be no one else to blame.
Every choice would belong to Kris again.
Maybe that was why they found themselves lying in bed on the day of the Festival, staring blankly at the ceiling and letting the hours slip away.
They could hear the house becoming quieter. Breakfast had probably been put away by now. The footsteps downstairs had changed. Mom was likely wondering whether to wake them.
Kris imagined her standing outside the bedroom door.
A gentle knock. Their name spoken softly. A reminder that they would be late.
They almost wanted it to happen.
Almost.
The room was dim despite the morning light outside. Kris had left the curtains mostly closed. A thin strip of sunlight had found its way across the floor, slowly moving as the hours passed. They watched it.
Time continued whether they participated in it or not.
They could have gotten up.
They could have gone downstairs. They could have met everyone. They could have done what they were supposed to do.
They could already imagine Susie's reaction. She would probably complain about Kris being late, then act as though she hadn't been worried.
The imagined annoyance was strangely reassuring. It was normal. Familiar. Safe.
But why bother?
The SOUL would decide eventually.
It always did.
No matter how long Kris waited, eventually something would happen. Eventually the SOUL would pull them toward another decision. Eventually their body would move. Eventually they would be somewhere they hadn't intended to go, saying something they hadn't intended to say.
So Kris stayed where they were, wasting away beneath the covers, waiting for that familiar presence to return.
Waiting for the SOUL to make the next choice for them.
The room remained silent.
Kris counted the seconds without meaning to.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then they stopped counting.
Something inside their chest shifted.
Not physically. Not quite.
It was simply that familiar sensation returning. The feeling of being watched from somewhere impossibly close.
Kris opened their eyes.
For the first time that morning, they looked directly toward the door.
Nothing had changed.
The door was still closed. The sunlight still stretched across the floor. The house was still quiet.
And yet Kris knew.
The waiting was over.
Whatever the SOUL wanted, it was ready to begin.