songs for the fallen

chara asks a question.

Chara
_____

 This house has many faces. The one they see now is smiling. It is not a smile of false pretenses, not a mask, not a shield. It is a happy memory. A memory still in the making.

Frisk meanders through the halls, pointing out every tiny thing they see and demanding that Chara explain it. It's a bureau, they say as Frisk pokes their head into Asgore's closet. There's a Santa Claus outfit inside. Then, as they ruffle around in the bookcase: There are photo albums...scrapbooks...books on how to make tea...they all seem very worn. Then, as they inspect a label on a package of snails for the millionth time: Incredible. Showstopping. You've certainly never seen a package of snails before...not the first time you checked them, nor the fifth, nor the hundredth. Do you have beeswax in your head or something?

"Why do you gotta insult me like Warrior Cats?" Frisk huffs, sticking their hands in their pockets.

You know Warrior Cats? If Chara had a body, they'd jump for joy. This is the best thing that has happened to them in their entire death.

"Uh...I read like the first three books. But I couldn't keep track of all the cats and I kinda forgot how it went." That's okay. Chara can work with that.

Well, there's a kittypet named Rusty. A house cat, you know? A pet. His owners are going to take him to the vet to have him "fixed," so he runs away to the woods and joins a band of vicious, warmongering wildcats called ThunderClan. Then he becomes an apprentice, and receives his first warrior name, Firepaw... They realize only once they've gotten that far that Frisk probably doesn't actually care. But once they shake themself out of their rambling, they find the body they are now far too close to sharing completely is cozied up in Asgore's reading chair with a blanket and a cup of tea.

"Well, are you gonna tell me more?" Frisk asks, wrinkling up their face as they try to take a sip of tea. Chara can taste it too. It's not very good.

You didn't let it steep for long enough. Tastes like water, Chara thinks, projecting a roll of their eyes at Frisk. Well...I suppose. If you really want me to.

"I do," Frisk says, holding their teacup close to their chest. It's warm. "I like hearing you talk."

Well...here goes. There's a warrior named Tigerclaw, and he's a bit of a bully...

They don't know how long they keep talking. It isn't long enough. It could never be long enough. There were days, sometimes even weeks, when they felt almost normal. When they and Asriel played in the garden, got mud on their clothes, did their lessons for school, ate their dinner, and curled up on the floor before the fireplace without incident. They didn't think about the surface. They didn't think about the reasons they'd climbed Mt. Ebott to begin with. They didn't want to disappear. Those days and weeks were few and far between, but towards the end, they grew more frequent. If it hadn't been for that stupid pie, if they hadn't made such a foolish mistake...

This is the closest they've felt to normal since that day.

Frisk? they think after a long silence.

Yeah? Frisk thinks back.

We should get going. It isn't what they want to say. But those words evade them still. Perhaps they always will. Perhaps they will dance around them for the rest of their and Frisk's life. But they have no doubt in their mind that Frisk knows they mean them. Strange, looking back on it. Only a few hours ago, they were reluctant to call Frisk their friend.

They will not let this end the way it did last time. Regarding the way it ended last time...maybe it's best Frisk doesn't know. They already know about Asriel, of course. They know Chara is human. But they don't need to know about that. Not now, at least. Chara can keep their last secret for a little while longer.