Chapter Twenty | Ooo (Part 1 of 2)

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Alternate Chapter Title

Before the Clock Strikes Midnight

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Knock-knock.

However common, the sound makes you jolt. You stop everything you're doing to check on your schedule, needing to consult with it first to better establish yourself into reality. It takes a few pages and some seconds of reading for you to determine you don't expect any visitors today.

Knock-knock.

"One moment," you shout; stress spikes as you fail to wrap things up quicker, having to bring the stew into a boil before turning it off.

You're not sure what to anticipate from the one waiting at the door, nor why it's worrying your thoughts as much as it is. A knock was nothing to be afraid of, as wasn't receiving a surprise visit if you were to consider how tidy your home was and how up-to-date you were with your responsibilities. Regardless, the sound of the door opening sends all meditating techniques aside and panic replaces your search for serenity and reasoning. You rush off to the living room and get ready to face whoever's there, though not without letting that alert state show through your posture and the way you hold on tight to the knife you used for cutting the vegetables. 

"Who's-"

Warmth leaves your body the second you see who the person is; the knife almost falls, yet the visitor rescues it by its handle and gives it back to you afterwards. Your offensive stance vanishes and you find yourself incapable of storing the weapon away without making yourself seem like an anxious mess. The man stares at you throughout -- making matters worse, no doubt.

"G- God, I'm sorry!" you blurt out, frowning. "I thought you were-"

"I've had worse welcomes into strangers' homes," Bubbles says, remaining unfazed. "Though that still doesn't excuse the… oddity of your actions." He greets Frisk -- now closing the door of the living room -- with a nod and a smile. He then takes a small step forward and closer to you, cornering you in place without doing much about it. "Is there something wrong, (L/N)? You appear different from the first time we met."

You gulp tension away and attempt a smile. 

"It's been a rough couple of months, so I've grown... worried about bad things happening," you reply, taking a breath. "N- Not even those two months without Frisk were as scary as these new changes. Back then, I had little to lose -- I'd already lost my own child; there wasn't much left around for me to keep living for. No reason for it. Frisk wasn't with me anymore, and… And I destroyed all my other relationships, so -- in the end -- I was alone and I didn't have anywhere to go." You huff and follow it up with a shudder. "But now… Now I've got plenty to lose and barely any ideas on how to prevent that from happening. I don't want to lose the progress I've made until now, and I… I don't want to keep screwing up so much, either."

"You should seek some sort of counseling, if so." 

He takes a step back and sits on the couch when Frisk offers him to. 

You copy the man's actions, choosing the recliner opposite to his seat to maintain eye contact with him. 

"There's a fine line between fear and paranoia, and I believe you're crossing the latter now," he adds, frowning. "Or do you consider it normal to come running all the way from the kitchen to the living room, pointing a knife at me -- and looking as on-edge as you were just a moment ago?" He stops for a minute. "I understand you're being cautious, and that you're worried over Frisk opening the door to anyone who knocks on it, but your reaction just now was much different from the first day we met -- in a few ways positive, but in most ways not."

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