fulllifeconsequences

[They'd like to hope it's somebody here to visit Toriel. Shepard, maybe. It'd be nice for her to have a break with a friend, or something.

Ha ha, guess what happens when you hope!

They open the door.

They see it's Frisk.

They move to close the door.]

[Frisk catches the door. They don't dare look hopeful, but maybe a bit if it creeps into their expression. A fraction of HoPe, just a shade. But their grip on the door is firm.]

I want to talk.

* But there was nothing to say.

[They apply a bit of pressure. Just enough to be a warning. Just enough to push back against the door a little.

They - they know. Remember. Frisk and their mirror. Going for the fingers. Know how a slamming door can snap careless fingers. Not going to slam, just - going to scare them into thinking they might. Just going to scare them.]

[They could lay a SAVE into motion. They could force them to listen. But they'd really rather not, and - there's no point in abusing everything they've gained now that it's returned.

The door jerks beneath their hands. They simply tighten their grip. If Chara wants to -

They can. They have no reason to stop them.]

There's lots to say.

[There was a thought, just yesterday. What was it?]

Orpheus.

Do you really expect to sway me to anything by waxing sentimental? That's just a pointless story you told me after I tried to shotgun the contents of a flowerbed.

[They don't let go of the door. They don't take the hint. Don't get scared.

Irritating. They don't... have much more than the bluff. Aren't going to reinforce anything the Surface taught them, aren't going to hurt Frisk more than they have already. Have to stick to chasing them off with words, maybe.]

Yet you followed me.

[Norman was not very discrete about finding their body. And that had been the giveaway. The dead giveaway, even.

Chara can claim they don't care all they like. The fact remains that they still wear Green. They cannot escape their own promises, and the fact that they saw fit to keep them.]

Well, you know me. When have I ever turned down a chance to die?

[Badum-tssht. Hilarious, right? Jokes about a kid who slept in the soil are the best jokes they've got.]

You timed it very well.

[They must have seen their body. And Leonard...would not leave them alone. They might know it was him who did it. Do they know how they forgive him? How they -

Well. They can take this one step at a time. More important is the fact that they are talking to Frisk again, albeit with their typical, casual cut-and-riposte of conversation, idly deflecting and then derailing.]

You followed Eurydice.

We don't all see promises as disposable things, Frisk. Even we no longer like the people we made them to.

[They're doing everything they can to drive them away. It's good to know that all those parts of them still work, at least. Pain, frustration, hurt, betrayal - they've been cycling through all of them very briefly. Nice to know that those faculties are still in place.

Still, they keep their expression locked.]

And I'm supposed to believe you don't care?

I don't. I just adhere to the rules I've set.

[Two very different things. Yellowness is not greenness, right? They didn't need a SOUL of their own to still know they had to obey the rules of the Underground. Your turn, my turn. Don't attack shopkeepers. Homes and settlements like Snowdin are safe places. Can't attack the people there. Have to yield your stats when someone tries to * Check, unless you're the kind of self-centered prick who only says their DF is "HIGH."]

I don't care about you, but I care about doing what I say I'll do.

[A pause as they digest the words quietly. Then they shake their head.]

No.

[Said lightly, flatly, as easily as if they were refuting a claim about the color of the sky or the nature of a rainbow, with the lift of pitch that implies they're about to correct a particularly glaring error.]

I don't believe you.

You're doing exactly what you always do. It won't work this time.

Actually, I'm quite confident that it will. We spent a month without so much as glancing at each other, and I certainly wasn't drained of anything in particular. Made no particular difference to me, did it?

No. I do not need you, Frisk.

[They can parrot back Frisk's matter-of-fact tone just fine. Same air of pointing out some patently obvious fact, because it is a fact, isn't it? They didn't lose anything of worth from all of this, and yet they carried on. Proves they're fine. Doesn't it? Proves they don't need anyone.]

Yeah. You're doing so great for yourself.

[The difference between matter-of-fact and sarcastic observation is just a slight tonal twist.]

It didn't work with Asriel. It won't work with me.

Sarcasm isn't funny.

Nor is your insistence on using Asriel against me, for that matter. Remind me how constantly bringing up my miserably-failed attempts at forming relationships with others is supposed to make me want to rekindle one with you?

That's not what I meant.

[And you know it, Chara.]

You told everyone he didn't want to see you. He didn't care, right? But we both know that was wrong. You left and refused to talk to him, and it just hurt him and everyone else.

[A lift of their eyebrow, vaguely hinting at their exasperation.]

Chara, I love you, but you can be such a butt sometimes. You can keep pretending there's no way people can love you, but it's not true.

[This is stupid. Only reason Asriel was hurt was because someone immediately decided not to keep their promise. Refused to let them actually be gone. Arguing, too, feels pointless. Been over that too many times.]

Maybe you would do well to take the hint, then. I am not saying that you don't love me. I'm saying that I do not love you, whatever you may insist. You cannot dictate what I feel or what I want, no matter how insistent you seem to be that you know it better than I do.

[And still, they do not close the door. They must know how easily that would - hurt their fingers, give rise to so many memories that will boil beneath their skin. That's something. It's not very much at all, but it is something. They hold fast to it.

They always hold fast to it.]

But you seem to think that you know what I want more than I do. Seeing as my "real" partner must be...some other Chara, I guess.

Because you decided it must be.

You can't have it both ways, Frisk. The LOVE-hungry threat that was so eager to tear down anyone it saw... was that me, or was it not? Exactly who were you trying to become when you stole one of my shirts?

[Can't keep trying to bend reality to fit what they want it to be. Can't act like none of what happened matters, can't just - can't undo this. They're not going to just brush it off. Not when the consequences were this heavy. Can't keep things poised in this in-between state, with the door neither open nor shut.

And that's all it is, after all. Chara's the one at fault, so they have no right to make it about themself, about their selfish, thin-skinned little problems. Boo hoo, the demon that comes doesn't know what it is anymore. Poor baby gets all uncomfortable when their precious safe space recreates them down to the letter, cries a big stupid river about not knowing they're real. Like that's even a problem at all when they nearly tore Frisk apart at the seams, nearly made them compromise on the moral principle they hold dearest: don't kill.]

[They need someone to blame, of course. And Chara has to have it be themself. Of course. All the time. It's far, far easier to punish themself than to punish anyone else. It's far easier to hate themself.

Frisk knows that as well as anyone.]

It was something that could have been. Would have been. But wasn't.

Am I to blame for the things my Mirror does?

[Chara made it clear that they weren't, a long time ago. Maybe it wasn't so long ago, but it - hah, it certainly feels it, doesn' it?]

You know how Wonderland works. It reflects things, but it distorts them too. It's a funhouse mirror.

[And here's the punchline:

In this case, it worked.]

[Funhouse mirror. Yeah, everyone here's having fun, aren't they?

It really is just that easy for Frisk. For Sans. For everyone. Isn't that big of a struggle to realize there are Other Frisks or Other Charas and sort out whether that even means they're a Chara at all. Don't have to question whether they're the figment of Wonderland and the one who can still exist inside of Frisk's SOUL is the real thing. Their grip on who Chara was... it was thin even before circumstances blew it all to pieces.

They really are the only one who's struggling to grasp it. The only one who can't just be confident they're real at all.

Always were a messed-up one, weren't they?

Always were.]

...It wasn't a funhouse mirror that cracked you into fragments. You can't deny who's to blame for that.

Who gave you the Orb in the first place?

[They remember it, still. They remember feeling like that, feeling - invincible, almost, like nothing could touch them. Safe and content in LV 19, feeling nothing, nothing, nothing at all. There was the swish and the arc of a blade and the cut, the reddish crescent carved into the air.

They'd gone after Chara cruelly, savagely. They'd been fighting to kill.]

I don't blame you, Chara. How am I supposed to blame you for how you feel about yourself? I was trying to kill you. I was...

[Distorted. So, so distorted. To the point that not even their Mirror would act as such.]

I know you wouldn't have if you knew.

[How are they supposed to blame Chara for how they feel about themself? Ha. Ask Sans, he found a way. There's an important life lesson in here, right? About how selfish it is to hate yourself. About how maybe... it's smarter to not love anyone at all if you'll never manage loving yourself, because all you'll do is drag them down.]

I ought to have known. I'd turned into my costume once already. I should have understood right away.

[They're the smart one. The clear-thinking one. The one who's so clever for their age, and age is just a number anyway, Chara, isn't it? The one smart enough to cleverly deceive an entire race into moving its capital. The one who was supposed to have been intelligent enough to know that buttercups might be named after food, but aren't actually safe to eat.

But they were so eager to hurt themself, they acted childishly. Not like a rational, reasonable adult. Like an animal, not a human being.]

You got hurt regardless. Could have done literally anything but fight, right? But instead, I destroyed you.

You wanted to die, Frisk. You hurt so bad you would have rather been dead.

I watched you turn into your costume. I should have considered it could happen.

[But they took that risk. And they took that risk well knowing that Chara has never reacted well to seeing themself, not any version of themself, and yet - they went ahead with it anyway. Foolishly. Selfishly.

They say it like it's news. It hurt so badly they'd rather be dead. They remember that. And then - they smile, very slightly, a small and wry upward quirk of the lips.]

And how is that different from how we are normally?

[A little joke. Ha ha. We both hate ourselves and secretly crave the embrace of death, only death is just too good for them. Too good, and too brief. And not enough.

Never enough.]

That kind of humour doesn't suit you.

[This is no time to laugh. Laughing about it's creepy. It's for people who joke about a kid who slept in the soil. People who are giggling, even though it's not funny because Dad is really sick, Chara, you're going to make Mom even more mad if you're laughing about this, wh-why won't you stop laughing about this, Chara?]

Just because we talk about it doesn't make it okay. It's not supposed to be normal. I'm not supposed to be encouraging it.

[Not like it matters much, anyway. This ended with both of them being on their second death, ha ha.]

Suppose Sans and Alphys didn't know how to fix you. What then?

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cw hella suicide ideation

Business As Usual am I right ha ha ha (distant sobbing)