Chapter Text
“I mean,” says Flowey from behind their head, stem bobbing as they scramble up the fence, “don’t let me stand in the way of any criminal acts. I hardly want to stifle your independence!” The last three words curve up into a slightly mocking imitation of Toriel’s voice. “Just, maybe, when this whole thing inevitably goes horribly wrong – ow!”
Frisk hits the ground on the other side of the fence with a grunt. They clap their hands lightly to catch his attention, then sign in fluid Monster Sign Language: Maybe we shoulda left you at home in the pot. Maybe, I shouldn’t have filled a whole pocket of my backpack with dirt, ya – there’s a small pause in their signing as they search for the word – wimp! In their head, Chara giggles.
“All I’m saying is, I refuse to be held responsible for any part of this. Also: you idiots.”
“Charizard,” murmurs Chara out of Frisk’s mouth, reminding them what they’re actually on this private property for in the first place. Then they add, smugly, “wimp.”
Flowey’s angry, then, but it’s not real anger. Frisk would know. He’s mostly good, he’s – Chara provides the emotion words in their head – amused, mostly, and kind of excited. He doesn’t really hate them, not anymore. Also, he’s a little scared, which Chara thinks is funny. Ah – not scared. Nervous.
Frisk thinks they’re probably a little nervous, too – they do not like people being mad at them, and maybe chasing virtual Pokémon on their phone would be a good enough explanation for breaking and entering, but they kind of doubt it. Especially when according to most of the internet nobody’s actually played this game in like 50 years.
Somehow they left the servers up, though. Meaning there’s no one out there to stop us from taking over the whole operation, Sponge, Chara chimes inside their brain. We’re gonna be the very best, like no one ever was. They laugh at that a little bit, but Frisk’s not sure why. But they agree with Chara – there’s a Charizard up there, so yeah, of course it’s worth it! Bubbles of their own ticklish excitement rise and pop inside them, and their hands flap back and forth in their sleeves.
They pass through the scruffy courtyard, slushing through the leaf piles left over all the way from the fall, gross and slimy with snowmelt. According to the little picture on their phone, Charizard should be somewhere in or by this run-down apartment building, that would look abandoned if Frisk couldn’t feel dim pulses of human emotion from within. They investigate the door to the lobby, dusty and staffed only by a sleepy manager, and the fire escape above, an engaging construct of rusting metal, and their phone screen, showing the Charizard like eight feet away through a solid brick building are you serious.
Alas, the beast evades us still, says Chara, the amusement in their tone hiding disappointment.
Now Frisk is disappointed too, and so, they think, is Flowey, who really kind of wants them to get in trouble. They look around the courtyard, again, and up at the wiggly metal, again, and decide on impulse to find a big chunk of asphalt near the fence, and fling it up at the fire escape so the ladder comes down. They’ve called it stubbornness, they’ve called it stupidity, they’ve called it fixation, they’ve called it determination, but right now what it’s called is oh my god there’s a Charizard up there! Like hell they’re gonna give up now! The asphalt chunk collides very satisfyingly with the thingie whatever holding up the ladder to the first landing, and the ladder comes clanging down until it’s only about three feet from the ground. The manager inside notices, but to her credit, does not move at all.
Frisk grabs the sides of the ladder and pulls themself up. They’ll be able to reach Charizard from the roof, right? Right.
And they get like halfway to the roof before someone inside notices the boots ringing up their fire escape and then they gotta book it aaaaaaaaall the way back down as Flowey swears in their ear.
Which is a new record, Chara says, so they’re proud.
The gunshot realization of the man inside the apartment echoes inside their head, tinged at the edges with anger and fear. It’s loud, too loud, and it’s giving them a headache! As they clamber back over the fence and race away from the scene of the crime, they remember to do what Toriel showed them, after they’d told her (only her, always only her) that weird things their brain does. They take a deep breath, turn their face up to the sun, and let the bright light and the sound of their boots pounding on the sidewalk carry those feelings away.
They’ve always been empa – empathic – empathetic? they always forget which one is the right word – anyway, they, what they do is they feel other people’s emotions. It’s been like that for as long as they can remember, and probably before that. It’s like a current, like a tide, like a tsunami, crashing down on them from every angle, over and under and around and through their own thoughts. Concerts are electrifying. Schools are hell. The Underground was…a little bit of everything, pain and fear and love and joy, all at once. It’s excruciating, and exhilarating, and, exploding, and…it’s, a bunch of words is what it is, words they know they’ve felt before but don’t know how to say.
When they were little, when it got too much, their strategy used to be curling up in a ball and putting their hands over their ears and rocking back and forth hard enough that their head slammed into whatever they were closest too. Which didn’t help, but they couldn’t just not do that, because there was so much inside them they were coming apart at the seams. Mostly, they’re not little anymore, but at the same time they never ever want to step foot near a public school ever again.
The books said that hyperempathy was an autism thing, like how their face stays still and their hands don’t and their tongue sits silent and wet in their mouth. That’s what they decided it was, for the first nine or so years of their life. Oh, sure, they tried to tell people! Of course they did, of course they wanted to know they weren’t alone! But the words just got lost in translation from thought to speech to physical movement, always way too complicated, with too many moving parts. They gave up. They learned to just exist, as whatever their brain had made them.
Only then Chara, who has different autism things, woke up in their brain a year and a half ago. Chara said that most people don’t thirst after loud sights and bright sounds like water, which Frisk had kind of figured out, but that Chara liked because it made their own sensory sensitivities dim down when they passed through Frisk’s brain. Then Chara told them that yeah, having a lot of feelings that mostly belong to other people is an autism thing (if not one they had themself), but also this is kind of verging into literally psychic territory. Like the part where they don’t have to see or comprehend what emotion someone is expressing to experience it alongside them.
That’s where they got the nickname Sponge, anyway. Like, an emotional sponge.
They’re jogging past the park when Chara says phone in their head, which means that the little noise went off and they didn’t notice it. They slow to a stop and pull the phone out of their pocket. It’s a text from Toriel (or, as she’s listed in their phone, “goat mom best mom ]: )”).
goat mom best mom ]: ) :
It is nearly time to leave for the weekly meeting at the embassy. Am I right in assuming you would still like to attend, my children?
“Oh heck,” says Chara aloud, to no one in particular. “Oh, beans.”
“Can we leave the baby swears in 2015 where they belong, for once?” snaps Flowey. “When I was like 8 and physically incapable of swearing?”
“Oh shucks,” says Chara, and curves their face up in a smile.
Frisk doesn’t feel like a smile. They must have gotten distracted by the Charizard thing, that’s why it’s suddenly 20 minutes later than it should be, and they’re not close to home. Their fingers start to twitch, and feel hot and prickly and so does their face – oh no never mind her typing bubbles are popping up again.
goat mom best mom ]: ) :
If you would like, we can pick you up on the way there! I can be there in 15 minutes ]: )
15 minutes. That’s pretty perfect. Frisk and Chara’s anxiety deflates like a balloon, and the heat goes back out of their hands where it belongs. Their thick, grubby fingers smudge out a reply on the screen, and they hardly even have to backspace.
Me :
we’re at the park c:
As they type, Chara’s smile pricks up the corners of their mouth, and they rock back and forth on their toes. The park! 15 minutes by themselves in the park! And nobody else to steal the swings!!
They dump Flowey out of their backpack and he burrows into the ground, probably on his way to Asgore’s garden or wherever else he goes when he roams around the city. At first, pretty much everyone involved (meaning Chara and Frisk) was pretty sure something like this was An Astoundingly Bad Idea. He didn’t exactly have the best moral track record underground, after all, and who knew what kind of mischief he could get into up here unsupervised? They figured out some ground rules, though, and now both of them trust Flowey to behave himself as best he can. Their first ground rule, which Frisk had to ask Chara for help translating into Monster Sign, is:
1) Do not pull any evil shit or I will reset and take your ass straight back to the endless hellhole of boredom and apathy that was your existence before we broke the barrier.
It was smooth sailing after that was established.
(The reason only Frisk and Chara were the only ones ruling in on this decision was because of their second ground rule:
2) Do not tell anyone anything they don’t remember about our time underground or I will reset without hesitation.)
Frisk picks their backpack back up, slinging dirt everywhere, and races over to the swing set. They hurl themself onto the shortest swing, feeling the plastic cut into their stomach and the blood rush to their head as they dangle towards the ground, messy curls trailing on the woodchips below. Then they flip their head up, relishing the sensation of their hair rushing past their ears, and pull themself up and into the Proper Swing Position. Chara, who likes motion stuff like this the most, is already tugging at their legs and asking for control, and Frisk hands it over. They watch their feet kick up in excitement, and do their best to balance the motion with their top half. Soon they’re soaring through the air, hair just longer than they were allowed to have it before flying in their face.
They’re not required to go to embassy meetings, but they like to. Chara doesn’t and always complains a lot and makes fun of the humans, but Chara’s just a backseat driver and Frisk can do what they want. It’s one of the only times they have to interact with humans at all, considering their living with the monsters and homeschooling and everything, and they’re already starting to seem like a strange and distant culture.
Human royalty, they know, don’t live in big apartments at the top of old, scheduled-for-demolition buildings. Tons of their kingdom don’t live right under them, either, and their buildings definitely aren’t held up by hopes and dreams and everything else that held New Home so solidly together for so long. The city let them have the complex more or less for free – or, free by monster standards, who use pure gold coins as pocket change – and in the five or so months they’d been on the surface, they’d all fixed it up and learned to call it home. (Well, technically, it’s called the Delta Complex. That’s because Toriel didn’t let Asgore name it this time.)
The rest of monsterkind spread into the surrounding city, buying places to live where they could and building them where they couldn’t, and now that whole part of town always smells like monster food and feels like exactly where they belong. Some of Frisk’s friends live there – MK, who’s still working on finding a new name that fits their transitioned self, and Shyren, who is like In A Band now (!!!), and that entire village of Temmies who somehow managed to all squish into one tiny apartment. Lots of them, though, live in the Complex, so that’s where Frisk spends most of their time. Most of Frisk’s friends (family?) also work at the embassy as diplomats and representatives of the monster kingdom, but after it became apparent that public school was absolutely not an option for them, everyone except Asgore takes one day off a week to babysit take care of them while they work on their online schooling. (It’s not babysitting, Chara, on account of I’m not a baby. Maybe if they were only watching you!)
Wake up, get dressed, brush their teeth, head over to whoever’s apartment for breakfast. Do their schoolwork sprawled on their stomach in the middle of the floor, or tucked into a beanbag chair that almost swallows them whole, or on a cleared space on Alphys’s desk as she talks about math and anime and helps them out more than she probably should. Then go on a walk (well, usually a race) to the park, or learn how to cook without setting the kitchen on fire, or watch old space documentaries with Sans. No tumult of screaming loud emotions, no inscrutable bullies or classwork that moves too fast or teachers whose disappointment presses down on them like wet concrete. Only their frie – well, okay. Only their family, who isn’t any of those things. Except the loud emotions, which are kind of fun when they’re loud about puzzles or music instead of late assignments and sick anxiety. Frisk is pretty sure they couldn’t be happier.
Friday is Toriel’s day to watch them, so Toriel is the one who is in charge of getting them to the weekly embassy meetings. She always asks whether they want to go, in that sweet caring way of hers, but Frisk always says yes. Soon enough it’s 4:40 pm, right exactly at Leaving Time, and Toriel’s mom-van pulls up in front of the park. Sans, who works at somewhere between 1 and 4 hot dog stands throughout the city, waves at them from the front seat. Alphys is on her laptop in the back, tongue poked out, probably editing the latest video on combining monster and human technology for her Youtube channel. Chara smiles and relinquishes their legs, and Frisk takes a flying leap off the swing. They grab their backpack from where they tossed it against the swing set, brush off the woodchips at Chara’s insistence, and run to jump into the van.
Toriel was worried at first that they would get hurt, or lost, or worse, in the big and new city, and hesitant to let them go out alone, but over time she became more confident in their capabilities. Now they’re allowed to walk pretty much anywhere they like when they finish with school, as long as they take their phone and their backpack. Frisk isn’t worried about forgetting either of these things – they love texting their friend-family, and they never go anywhere without their trusty backpack anyways.
Things that are in Frisk’s trusty backpack:
· Human food (like crunchy granola bars and chocolate for Chara)
· Monster food (like monster candy and cinnamon buns, mostly
· Water bottle
· Portable phone charger
· iPad (because most humans don’t understand Monster Sign)
· 117 g
· $21.53
· Headphones (for when things got too overwhelming for Chara)
· Spare sweater and socks
· Worn dagger (Chara’s comfort item)
· Heart locket (also Chara’s comfort item, Frisk doesn’t like things around their neck)
· Swiss army knife (with a billion little tools)
· Sketchpad
· Probably too many writing utensils
· Binoculars
· Four stim toys
· Waterproof poncho
· Brightly colored band-aids
· Camera
· Kazoo
· Day planner
· Monster education pamphlets
· Dirt
· Not Flowey anymore
They’re unquestionably prepared for any situation.
“Hello there, children!” says Toriel, smiling inside and out, as they plop down in their seat and close the door. “How did your adventure go today?”
Frisk’s hands are busy with the seatbelt, so they let Chara take this one. “Fun,” they say, decisively. “It’s really turning into spring, which feels nice. Also, we almost caught a Charizard, but it got away. So that was disappointing.”
“That’s too bad, kiddo. Maybe next time you’ll have better luck with your Seaking,” grins Sans from the passenger seat. There’s a beat of silence as both kids mentally riffle through over 700 Pokemon names.
Seakings are boring, Frisk replies, at the same time that Chara says “Sans, there’s over 700 Pokemon. You can do better than that.”
“Hey, no Shaymin trying,” he says with a wink. Alphys snorts.
“You don’t even play this game?! I don’t understand?!?” Chara exclaims. Frisk kicks the back of Toriel’s seat and signs Book it, Mom!
She laughs and does, peeling out into the street in a way that leaves Alphys squeaking and clutching her laptop and Chara giggling. It would be dangerous if she wasn’t the only one on the road, and also, maybe even more capable of a driver than Papyrus. Sans turns the radio to the new and only monster-pop station in town, and she starts singing along to songs about dandelions and having a crush on someone three times your size. Sans joins in, then Chara and Alphys, and the music takes hold of the car and doesn’t let it go.
Frisk starts rocking excitedly to the beat, their entire body buzzing and Chara’s words spilling from their throat. They make the sign for louder, and let their hands do it again, LOUDER LOUDER LOUDER, getting lost in the motion, LOUDER!! LOUDER!! LOUDER!!!! and NOTHING is LOUD ENOUGH and the music’s filling the CAR and filling their HEAD and their SOUL and they SQUISH their EYES SHUT so there can be MORE ROOM FOR MUSIC and ROCK AND ROCK AND ROCK AND ROCK AND –
THEY’RE SO HAPPY!!!!!
They’re so HAPPY they don’t notice the car pulling into a parking space outside the mayor’s office, but they notice when the music shuts off. They don’t stop rocking for a while, just to keep the edges of the feeling circulating in their veins, until Toriel opens their door and Chara gives some of their internal smile to her.
She smiles back, and they feel it in the small surge of affection towards them among the greater constant field, a sudden wave in the middle of a serene ocean.
Okay. They think that they’re what Undyne would call psyched up, now.
The embassy is on the 4th floor of the mayor’s office, which is easily the most official building any of them have ever been in. That’s even counting the king’s castle. It’s like this guy is trying or something, Frisk says with mock confusion to Chara, who replies with that’s probably the most accurate assessment of his personality you could hope for.
They’re right, as usual. Of course Frisk wants to take part in their species’ integration with the monsters, like a good mascot junior ambassador actually Chara. Of course they want to know about the current events in both of their communities and how they’re being handled. But as they cross the marbled lobby to the elevators, gazing around at the hugeness that they never tire of, they can’t help but feel a tiny bit not-quite-excited for tonight.
The mayor – Mr. Harris, they’re supposed to call him – he always wants. He wants things to stay the same. He wants things to be easy. He wants people to agree with him. And he doesn’t like it when those things don’t happen. And then sometimes Frisk has to leave before his anger and disgust get too overwhelming for them to bear.
Undyne’s face splits into a grin when the elevator doors open, and she bounds over to pick up her girlfriend in a spinning hug. They do this every time, but it’s still pretty adorable. Papyrus is hot on her heels with a “HELLO HUMANS!!”, bending down to pick Frisk up as they throw their arms around his neck. They hug him tightly, relishing the pressure of his bony arms around them and the coolness of his skull beneath their cheek.
He puts them down so they can continue the tradition of hugging everyone in greeting – Undyne as a sneak attack from behind, Asgore in a flying leap – and once those necessary prefaces have been completed, everyone settles down around the table. It’s 4:58, but they can count on about 15 minutes of time to talk and go over the agenda before Mr. Harris shows up.
Chara ends up in a deep and one-sided conversation with Asgore about how you can actually eat dandelions, probably, that Frisk’s not listening to. They feel shivery tinges of worry from the back of Asgore’s mind and are about to tell Chara to change the subject when the door opens and a wave of shame, mistrust and anger enters the room.
Frisk shudders and clenches their hands in their hair, snapping their jaw closed and tense. Chara opens their eyes wide and stares up at the wave of bad feelings. It’s shaped like a young teenage boy, with pale skin and short brown hair and a suit like Mr. Harris. His tie is yellow, they note detachedly, while Mr. Harris’s is purple. A just soul, not perseverant like the mayor. Frisk rips their eyes from Chara’s grasp and aims them at their hands. They can handle looking at faces when it’s Chara doing the looking, Chara whose default expression is a stare, but with this boy it’s too hard.
“Evening, all,” Mr. Harris says, his displeasure straining against his formal tone. “This is my son, Talley. He’ll be sitting in on our meeting tonight.”
No more explanation. Asgore nods his head, and Toriel smiles. Papyrus offers him a handshake and a “Nice to meet you! I’m Ambassador Papyrus!” but Talley only looks at the hand for a few seconds and sits down. Frisk gets the feeling he doesn’t want to be here. Also, for some reason he thinks Papyrus’s hand will feel slimy?? He’s a skeleton???
Talley sits on the exact opposite side of the table as Frisk and tries not to look scared and stares at his phone. Frisk shuffles through their backpack for five minutes, desperately searching for their tangle stim toy. They find a dead bug at the very bottom, but even the stress of that being there is overshadowed by the stress of Talley Harris.
As the meeting goes on, Talley’s discomfort only gets worse, and so does Frisk’s. They don’t listen to the meeting, and follow along on the agenda, and take part in the discussion. Chara does that, as helpful as they ever are at meetings; which is to say they just get increasingly angrier. It bubbles in their shared stomach and Chara feels it like a rush but Frisk just feels sick. They sit closely huddled into Asgore’s warm and loving side, winding their tangle around their fingers and trying not to hate themself in the wake of the Harrises’ distaste. Mr. Harris is saying something about not knowing anything about how monsters function or who they are, and Undyne makes a snarky remark about that being obvious. There’s a flash of anger from Mr. Harris and Talley’s eyes flick up as his father’s voice rises. Asgore tries to keep the peace, suggesting monster history classes, maybe television spots – but Mr. Harris snaps back impatiently, calling him impractical.
Talley’s chair screeches as he stands up abruptly. “I’m going to go walk around,” he announces into the silence.
It’s like a coat of wet cement has been lifted from Frisk’s chest. They stop hunching over in their chair, glance around the table and trying to see where they are on the agenda. Now that Talley’s gone, they can feel the strong currents of love flowing from every monster around the table to them, and they count their breaths as they let it ground them. They’re safe, he’s gone, they’re loved, and they can breathe again.
While you were gone, the mayor called us all simple again, and implied that Asgore wasn’t fit to rule. He also blamed the widespread human suspicion on our ambassadors, and neglected to mention his publicly terrible stances on the matter, Chara fills them in.
Oh, Frisk replies. Did that really happen?
Well…Not in so little words. But that was the general message.
The meeting ends with nothing resolved and no one satisfied. It’s disappointing, but Frisk is used to it. That’s why these meetings keep having to be a weekly event, after all. The mayor departs, with his strange effect of having the rest of them feeling left in an echo chamber, and they’re alone in the conference room.
As soon as the door swings closed behind him, Undyne perches on the edge of the table and flops back with an extended groan. “Uuuuuuuuuughhhhhh. When’s he gettin’ re-elected or whatever?”
“That isn’t the problem right now,” says Asgore, who hasn’t gotten up. His paws move slowly and the lines around his eyes are deep. He’s tired. “We’ve tried negotiations. We’ve tried publicity, we’ve tried social media – “
The door creaks back open, and Talley Harris peeks through the gap.
Frisk and Chara both think several words they shouldn’t know.
“Have you…seen my dad?” It’s the first time they’ve heard him speak. It’s quiet, and Frisk has to strain to hear it. Not brash and grating like Chara always complains the mayor’s is.
“No…we haven’t, I’m sorry,” replies Toriel, already concerned. Chara squeaks in outrage that that emotion is now in their head, and redoubles their hatred.
“Didn’t he already go home?” asks Undyne.
“He pretty much always gets out of here as fast as he can,” Sans agrees.
“Seriously?!” Talley exclaims, whirling around and pulling out his phone with more force than necessary. His shock and irritation hide a sudden swell of fear, and he quickly turns back so he’s facing the monsters. “Why didn’t his driver notify him? I’m going to get this sorted out right now. Hello, Dad? Yeah. I’m still at the embassy.”
“We’d be pleased to give you a ride home, Talley! It’d be no trouble at all!” Papyrus offers. Talley just glares at him, and another stab of Chara’s anger burns in Frisk’s stomach.
“I mean,” he continues, his voice slightly more restrained, “you left without me. I need someone to come pick me up.”
Asgore collects official documents from where they’ve scattered across the table. Frisk hops up to help, climbing over Undyne, who hasn’t moved.
“What? I was just – “ Talley bites his lip and listens for a long time, anxiety and shame ramping up. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was my fault. So – “ He listens again, and his anxiety slowly turns into dread. “Dad – no! No, come pick me up before you go home, please! I don’t want to wait here for like an hour!”
Oh noooooo, someone’s gotta sit alone in the dark for a while, Chara smirks. What a terrible fate. I can’t imagine anything worse, can you, Sponge?
Shush, Frisk replies, now listening intently to the half of the conversation they can hear.
Talley’s ashamed again, but this time it’s not at the others but himself. “Of course, this is my fault. I apologize. I shouldn’t have talked back. I’ll see you in an hour.” He hangs up the phone and looks around.
“Ssssooo…” He lets out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Is that, uh, ride home…still on the table?”
Frisk feels a stab of panic. No, no, no, they sign without thinking. We have to go home and eat together. You live too far away, it’ll just mess everything up.
“Why is he doing that?” Talley says, openly staring at their hands. Frisk bites down hard to keep Chara from taking their mouth and saying something awful.
“Frisk needs a routine, and that routine includes us all having supper next. We’d love to take you, but we only have two cars between us, and we can’t afford to have half of us deviate that much from the schedule. I really am sorry,” Toriel explains.
“We had no idea you lived so far away!” Papyrus adds. “Otherwise, it would have been no problem!”
“Seriously?! Just because that – that messed-up dumb kid says he wants to go home, you’re suddenly gonna drop everything to tend to his every need?! What’s wrong with all of you?!” Talley explodes.
“Nothing is wrong with us, or them,” Toriel replies soothingly, but Frisk can feel something dark and defensive rising inside her. “I am sure we can find a reasonable solution to this.”
“Would you like to come to dinner with us?” Asgore offers.
There’s a beat of silence. Asgore’s not stupid. He isn’t tone-deaf, either. Frisk can tell the offer is calculated, but heartfelt. In short, exactly an Asgore move. Asgore doesn’t know, but Frisk thinks he can tell, that Talley’s too scared (but not of them) to immediately refuse.
And he’s right. Talley’s breath catches, and he glances at the darkness outside the room. His fear spikes up and then subsides, replaced with resignation and a subtle determination. He’s more scared of staying here, alone, in the dark, than of the monsters his whole species has been conditioned to fear.
He looks Asgore in the eye and squares his shoulders. “Alright. I’ll tell my driver to pick me up at your…uh, place.”
“We live in the Delta Complex, on the southwestern edge of town.” Toriel provides.
“Did you seriously not know that? That’s like, monster 101,” Undyne says.
“W-we just had a, a w-whole m-meeting discussing this, Undyne,” Alphys replies.
Talley ends up in Toriel’s van, with Undyne, Alphys and Frisk. Frisk is in their spot behind the driver’s seat near the window, but Talley is in the front seat instead of Undyne, who is lying with her feet up across the back seats and probably not even wearing her seatbelt. Frisk starts humming, low in their throat, to try and offset some of the wrongness. They watch Alphys’s claws click nervously together, her snout twitching as she glances around with sharp, jerky movements. Talley keeps his body still, but spreads prickly nervousness and discomfort through the whole van.
Nobody is talking. This is weird. It’s too weird and Frisk doesn’t want to draw Talley’s attention but they are DYING in the silence! Finally, when Toriel stops at a red light, they clap and ask her to turn on the radio through the mirror. Usually they’d just have Chara ask, but letting Chara talk around other humans is never ever a good idea.
“Of course, my child!” Toriel reaches for the dial too fast, also relieved to have something else to focus on. She turns the station to a human pop station, the one that Undyne and Alphys have playing all the time in their apartment, and smiles when the chorus of a popular song fills the space.
“YEAH!!! I love this song!!!” yells Undyne, bouncing out of her seat in excitement. “You’re my sweet, baby, you’re so sooooouuurr – “
“You’re bittersweet, baby, every hoouuurrr!” Toriel joins in. Chara grins, and Frisk starts rocking back and forth in their seat.
“My tears are saltyyy, don’t make me cryyyy – “ sings Alphys softly, voice almost lost under Undyne shouting right in her ear. “I don’t waaanna say goodbyyyee – “
Talley fixes her with a stare in the rearview mirror, and she stops, embarrassed.
“Do you know this song, Talley?” Toriel asks, oblivious to Talley’s weird ass staring thing leave her the hell alone human. “My favorite part is coming up!”
Talley doesn’t respond. Frisk is getting a weird amount of emotions from him. He’s confused, and kind of scared, but – he likes this song. And he feels less nervous after that.
Soon enough, they arrive back in what Chara calls the Monster District and Frisk just calls home. They pass by identical, cramped houses painted in bright colors, clusters of shacks in vacant lots, families eating together at rows of picnic tables pushed together. Talley stares out at all of it. Frisk realizes that, he’s rich, he probably lives in a mansion with a huge lawn and rich neighbors. He’s never seen people living like this, pressed so close together but also so happy.
They pull into the largely empty parking lot outside the Delta Complex, just behind the car holding Papyrus, Sans and Asgore, and pile out onto the cracked pavement. Talley follows at the back of the group, looking up at the towering building above and wrapping his arms around himself even though it’s not cold.
The doormonster leaps up and smiles as they pass, pulling their slimy form into something that stands upright more easily. Asgore waves and grins back, and Frisk takes the monster candy they offer them. They hand a piece to Talley too, who sniffs it and watches Frisk shove theirs in their mouth before hesitantly unwrapping his. They take the elevator up to the top floor, split between Toriel’s and Asgore’s twin apartments, and Asgore holds the door for everyone as they file into his place. It’s not as crowded as you’d think, and definitely not as crowded as some of the places Frisk has lived.
Frisk and Chara don’t get to stay in Asgore’s apartment very much – as the king, he has to work full time at the embassy, so he can’t watch them during the week. It’s still one of their favorite places. Houseplants, from tiny succulents to great big ferns, fill every corner and swing gently in pots hung from the ceiling. The bookshelves are stocked with volumes of monster history and gardening guides, and you can always smell the smoky hint of fire magic and sweet pollen of the flowers. Chara’s hatred for Talley fades away, replaced by the contentment they always feel in Asgore’s apartment. It’s the perfect place for both of their special interests, monster culture and gardening, to collide.
Crunched in their favorite corner, reading a monster anthropology textbook and rubbing at the smooth leaf of a fern with one hand, Frisk and Chara pass the time until supper without interacting with anyone. This would be exhausting for Frisk, but Talley is here so everything is exhausting anyway, and Chara desperately needs some unsocial time by now. Being angry at every human ever to exist is tiring, apparently. At one point, Flowey pops up in the pot holding Chara’s fern, sees Talley, and shoots back into the ground in surprise.
Frisk listens as Chara reads, as the chaos around them moves into the kitchen. Everyone helps Asgore with dinner, except for Talley, and Sans of course. They end up on the same couch, not looking at each other. Sans turns on the television. Talley glances up for a second, then goes back to his phone.
Frisk isn’t feeling fear from him anymore. Just a strong, unpleasant sense of confused awkwardness.
The meal (fixed with two portions of human food this time, instead of just one) is far more strained than usual, with even Papyrus and Undyne not yelling or trying to start a food fight. The atmosphere in the apartment is so tense Frisk can feel it prickling their skin. The point of these meals, though, is to talk about the meeting, so maybe now Frisk can learn about what actually happened instead of what Chara told them?
“They don’t know us,” Toriel starts, finally, after a longer period of silence than any of them ever bother with. “We’re here, and that’s all we’ve ever wanted. But it’s not enough, is it?”
“We were so fixated on breaking the barrier…” Asgore sighs, resting his massive head in one paw. “We never thought…about what would come after.”
“People don’t know who we ARE!!” shouts Undyne, slamming her fist on the table and making everyone jump. “And…” Her voice softens into something approaching weakness. “I’m not sure how to show them.”
“What could we possibly be missing?” Papyrus exclaims. “We even have active social media presences!!”
“They don’t need to just know we’re here, they need to know who we are,” Asgore says.
“I’m gonna veto the concept of a meet-and-greet right now,” Sans deadpans.
Chara has a quiet idea in their head, birthed straight from the monster anthropology book. Frisk moves their hands, slowly, bringing it to reality. What about something, like…arty?
“What do you mean by something arty, Frisk?” Toriel asks. She usually never repeats what Frisk says, but they suspect she’s doing it for Talley’s benefit. Who just snorts.
Everyone’s gazes flick to him for a second. “Do go on, dear,” Toriel says to Frisk.
There’s…there’s always music here? With you? And, and since I came here I’ve started humming as a stim a lot more, and people join in. Like – Sans and Papyrus, you’re always humming your songs, do you notice that you do that?
“So what if they do?” Undyne asks, just a little bit protectively. “It’s just their songs.”
Yes!! Exactly!! We don’t have those, and you do, and – They have to stop signing as their brain starts to explode with Chara’s excitement. Your songs – aagh! The last part comes out as a frustrated flap of their hands, and Chara bursts impatiently from their mouth.
“Music is so incredibly embedded in monster culture. You have personal theme songs that everyone hears – in their head but still – if the situation’s important enough to the listener. Your fighting styles are less fights and more a cross between emotional expression and dance. Humans aren’t like that!! I don’t have a song, Frisk doesn’t have a song! You’re storytellers! You’re musicians! That’s what they don’t know, that’s you!” Frisk flaps excitedly, swept away by the rare undiluted joy spilling from their mouth. “So what if – “
“A musical!” Undyne shouts, leaping out of her chair. “We could make a musical about us!”
“Exactly!” Chara beams. Frisk makes finger guns at her for emphasis. “We could, we could talk about how we met each other, and what the underground is really like! And how you’re not evil! And I bet Mettaton would help write it!”
“Hold on,” Talley interrupts. He’s weird again and it’s messing up Frisk’s vibe. (Contemptuous, Chara says, and clicks their mouth shut and curls their toes in anger.) He turns to Toriel and points at them, sneering, “He can actually talk?”
Chara’s face snaps back defensively into their default expression, wide staring eyes and a small blank smile. Everything behind that face just feels pulled taut. Still smiling, they bite out, “Shut the fuck up.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Undyne lets out a howl of laughter loud enough to make the flowerpots tremble. A wave of scandal ripples away from them like they’re a stone dropped in a pond. Toriel is outraged, but mostly at Undyne; Asgore’s mouth hangs open with shock and his hand is over his chest. Alphys dropped her fork and is feeling very very guilty about all those animes she showed them that maybe weren’t originally made for kids. Papyrus has sort of frozen up – bluescreened, Chara giggles, already feeling better – and Sans is just snickering, but very, very quietly.
Talley’s just a maelstrom of confusion, rage, and embarrassment, and that makes Chara feel even better than the unspoken outpouring of support from the monsters around the table. Their relief and amusement override whatever Talley’s feeling, and after all, that was pretty freakin’ awesome so Frisk is pumped too. WE FLIPPED YOUR SCRIPT! WE FLIPPED YOUR TERRIBLE SCRIPT! Frisk screams inside their head. HOW’S IT FEEL TO BE THE EMBARRASSED ONE NOW!! YOU ASSHOLE!!
We probably shouldn’t be this excited about this, Chara giggles, with the air of someone who just got finished laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.
ASSHOLE’S NEVER GONNA LAUGH AT US AGAIN, Frisk yells back. HOW YOU LIKE THAT!! HOW YOU LIKE THAT!!! AAAAAAHH!!
You’re excitable today.
Talley, whole face red like Hotland lava, stands up and makes for the door. “My dad’s here,” he turns back to say before leaving and slamming the door behind him. That was probably a lie. He’s just awful and doesn’t want to spend any more time with THE LITERAL BEST PEOPLE ON EARTH, GOOD RIDDANCE!! Frisk waves at the closed door, double-handed and almost spiteful. The slam brings after it a wave of relief everyone feels and pretends that they don’t.
“In all seriousness, Chara, please don’t use that word,” Toriel says.
“That was an extenuating circumstance.”
“SO HOW BOUT THAT MUSICAL HUH,” blurts Undyne, who is still slightly afraid of Toriel’s rage. “PRETTY COOL IDEA HUH.”
“Oh my goodness, I can’t WAIT!!” Papyrus kicks his feet and bounces up and down with excitement. “The fame! The fortune! The devious and deadly traps I will recreate in musical form!! I can feel it calling to me already!!”
“I-I can call Mettaton after supper,” Alphys says brightly. “H-he loves writing songs a-and stuff, he’ll – he’ll love to h-help.”
“YEAH!! Just so long as he doesn’t end up stealing the whole spotlight,” Undyne adds. “Cause I need to have at least one dramatic monologue!! Like in anime!!! Is someone writing all this down?!?!”
The answer is no, but quickly turns into yes as the idea gains traction. At one point, Papyrus jumps on the table to improvise a speech as Undyne scribbles it down furiously, and Alphys half-accidentally signs up to be completely in charge of special effects. As soon as Alphys tells him the idea, Mettaton demands video participation, and ends up calling Frisk’s iPad from his studio. He has ideas, of course he does, about costumes and set pieces and “darling little pieces of choreography,” and relays them all at high speed and volume. As evening turns into night, and the plan takes shape around them, Chara marvels at what’s become of their very own idea.
This is a good plan, right, Sponge? they ask, suddenly self-conscious about receiving this much attention.
Oh, yeah, Frisk reassures them, sending as much excitement and pride towards their brainsibling as they can. Everyone thinks so, and everyone’s gonna love it – take it from me, this is going to be absolutely fantastic!!