Undertale Scenarios

Hush These Voices

TW: Suicide, and themes of death

Hush These Voices:

~×~

Alphys:
You bite your lip, fold your hands. You wasted words - they fall like sand.
Who would think that at some point they would witness a hit-and-run? Someone sadistic, perhaps. Someone wishing to inflict pain on others. If that driver had been a sadist, they were a doing a damn fine job at accomplishing their darkest desires. She held your crumpled body in her short arms, crying as she yelled at you to wake up. A smile was on your lips as her pleas fell on deaf ears, but your eyes were misting over. A crowd had gathered on the street, circling around the scene as if to protect and shield your corpse. A man was yelling into his phone while he spoke with a 911 operator, and his wife was crying. A few scattered monsters stood silently, trying to process the situation. To her, time seemed to have slowed, and she could feel her heart beating - the pounding in her ears. Her cheeks were wet with tears, hands trembling as she moved to cradle your head in the crook of her arm. The unoccupied hand moved to brush away hair from your eyes, and she desperately tried to get them to move. No matter how she turned your face, you still would not look at her. As she dug her face into your collar bone, she knew you would never look at her again.

~+~

Asgore:
You share your love in the dark. You watch your prayers fall apart.
So long ago it seemed that he had treated Frisk with a bedtime story of the prophesied angel from the surface. They had giggled when he tickled their stomach and told them that, that angel had always been them. He had believed it for so long, too: that Frisk was his savior. He had believed it until he saw you, lying in the garden, limp. When he rushed over, thorny vines were wrapped tightly around your neck, small droplets of blood running from some of their incisions. Your skin was bruising around the plant, and he desperately clawed at them, no matter how useless it was. Even as they were removed and your sensitive flesh was left a bloody, purple mess, you weren't quite there. He cried out for you, reminding you of how beautiful a day it was - a tragedy could never happen in weather that was perfect for a game of catch. And yet, that was proved wrong. Your face was expressionless as your head rolled to the side while he carefully lifted you into his lap. Hushing you for no reason in particular - perhaps he was hushing himself - he closed your eyes and pressed you tightly against his chest. He wept as he realized the angel had never been Frisk. The angel, his savior, his heroine, his reason for the throne. It had always been you.

~+~

Asriel:
Baby, bless your heart. These walls are painted with your scars.
It had all been in good fun. So often had you climbed trees with him, seeing who could reach the top the quickest. He always won, which left you complaining each and every time. How unfortunate that you became erratic in your hand gestures and thrown yourself off balance. He screamed as you fell into the bed of flowers below. He stared in panic until he heard your laughing. He scaled the tree quickly, landing just on the other side of the tree from you. His feet padded heavily on the ground as he neared you, only to see a terrible sight. Although you had been chuckling, it meant nothing good. It was like a scene from a horror movie, and he stood in paralysis as he surveyed the rusted fence post that had gone straight through your chest.
"All in good fun, right, Asriel?" you choked out, hands wrapping around the metal of the pole as you grimaced. "It was all fun. Just fun." You coughed, sobs of pure agony ringing out between each wheeze. He found himself unsteady and rocking as he walked closer. You watched him carefully, and when he tripped over a rock and immediately fell by your side, you smiled. Blood dribbled out from the corner of your lips. That's when you went still. It wasn't fun anymore.