Feeling Blue - Oneshot

Feeling Blue

Frisk stares.

This run has been shorter than the others. The urge to meet everyone, to talk and sing and play, it's faded. They no longer seek out every monster they've met before - the last time they've had a proper conversation with anyone was almost five resets ago. It had been fun, sitting at the dinner table with Sans and Papyrus, their joke-off failing to bring tears to Frisk's eyes like it normally did. It had been that night, after Toriel came to get them, that the decision had been made.

There's no real reason to it, so why did they have to keep doing this? They used to cry, watching everyone fade into pixels with frozen expressions of joy and laughter. Frisk always had a few minutes after the start of the reset to walk around, see everyone a final time before it all fell again. They used to cry so hard, hugging everyone and lamenting to themselves. 

 They used to cry. These last few times? Frisk has regarded their friends, the closest people in their lives, with a cold indifference. Sans would often be crying, hiding his destroyed expression from the people he loved. He knew, he knew what was happening, what that roll of his stomach and shiver down his spine was, and he was scared. Frisk could feel it whenever the two were together -- he was afraid to bring the subject up, hoping against hope they would let the present lay. 

And they hadn't. If anything, the skeleton's fear made them. . . made them. . . more eager to finish the run. That look of terror whenever their eyes (or sockets) met, it excited them. 

They used to cry. 

When was the last time Papyrus had joyously offered Frisk a bowl of spaghetti, or any other food for that matter? He didn't remember the resets, Frisk knew that for a fact, but there was an air of sorrow about him. He no longer carried that same boisterous, excited tone about everything. Instead, he sounded perpetually cautious, perpetually scared. 

They used to cry. 

Undyne, too, hadn't been the same in a while. She no longer acted the noble hero she once was, no longer sought to first purge the Underground of humans, then to protect them. She seemed simply. . . disinterested. Not wanting to do anything, not wanting to be involved. Hell, Frisk had to go seek her out these past few runs! Undyne's focus these days seemed to be protecting herself - and Alphys, of course. 

They used to cry. 

Alphys no longer had a drive for learning, exploring. Hell, as far as Frisk knew, Alphys hadn't even gotten into anime recently, so low was her morale. Frisk hadn't even realized how different, how dead her friends had become. When they thought about it a little more, they realized they didn't care as much as they oughta. There was concern, sure, but not enough to make Frisk regret what they had done. 

They used to cry. 

Asgore was secluded in his castle. According to the locals, when they asked, Asgore had always been a more reserved king, rarely interacting with his subjects. At least Undyne still went out, tried to put a smile on her face, spoke on behalf of the king when she had to. 

They used to cry.

Toriel didn't come to Frisk's rescue, anymore. Flowey hadn't even bothered to attack, just gave Frisk a disinterested look and left. Frisk had walked down corridor after corridor -- had the path changed, now that Toriel wasn't there to guide them? -- in silence. No monsters, no spiders, no ghosts, no break from the silence. The more Frisk thought about it, the more they realized their recent runs had been primarily composed of silence. 

They used to cry. 

Mettaton had lost his glamour. He hadn't aired his show the last few runs, hadn't even changed form. Frisk had to seek him out, and the fights had been short-lived. It was so boring, now. He threw a bomb dog at Frisk, Frisk took a few steps to the side, Mettaton walked away. They'd contemplate going after him, but never had enough of a reason too. 

They used to cry. 

Frisk's time was almost up. They took a final look around; Flowey was no where to be seen. That wasn't new, anymore. 

They used to cry. 

Sans, hood drawn up and head down, tears frozen on his cheeks. 

They used to cry. 

Undyne, arm protectively around Alphys, leaning down to whisper something. They were both grinning, something Frisk hadn't seen in a while. 

They used to cry. 

Papyrus was chatting with Mettaton, chattering excitedly about his new-found recipe for cupcakes. They were both snickering over some joke Mettaton had made - Frisk hadn't heard, and they never would. 

They used to cry. 

Toriel and Asgore were ignoring each other, looking away, faces betraying no emotion. Frisk wondered if that's why Flowey had stopped showing up, if he couldn't handle seeing his parents in such an abysmal state anymore. 

They remembered one time, right after falling. Looking up, first at the sky, then down to the flowers they'd fallen in. Many of them were dead. Slowly picking themselves up, dusting dirt away, Frisk looked around in boredom. Flowey was there, staring at them in disgust. "Why," he asked, voice broken. He wasn't going to cry, not as far as Frisk could tell. Confusion, rage, exhaustion - that was the impression they got. That was the last time they'd seen Flowey, almost seven resets ago, if not more. 

Frisk didn't care much, if they were honest. No, no, they did care. They did. 

Flowey was there, too, hiding in the shadows. His face was full of rage and anguish, of a million emotions Frisk couldn't name. 

Frisk stepped back, taking a final look at their friends --  broke down, dead, pathetic.

They used to cry. 

But for the first time, in a long time, Frisk smiled.