Echotale - Thought So (G!sansxFrisk)

Midnight Conversations

*Frisk's POV*

Finding out why Grillby never touched people or living things, was not a pleasureful experience.

Not that I expected it to be, I just didn't enjoy the feeling of his fiery flicking hands grabbing the cuffs around my wrist, the heat burning through the tight metal which caused me to hiss and whisper, "Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch," to myself while he pulled G and I out of the dinning hall, the doors shutting sharply behind us.

Grillby held G's arm right on the bone, and I almost felt bad but I was too focused on the stinging heat that ached my wrist through the metal.

Though I had to give Grillby some pity and credit, he was being as cautious as he could with me by grabbing the metal around my wrists instead of my actual skin, which would have caused me to scream.

Of course, when the heat from the metal got too much, I did scream and I screamed loud.

Knowing just what to do, Grillby pulled me into the woman's bathroom as if he had done this before.

He left G outside, which left a bad feeling in my stomach, considering all the chaos he created and I was just a sidekick.

Why was I being punished?

Though when the cold water from the sink hit my stinging wrist, the thought of punishment rolled down the drain along with the water and the sigh off my tongue.

The feeling was wonderful, but my mind was distracted with Grillby's body that stayed away from the faucet, his eyes low, an emotionless space that seemed to be thinking over his mistakes.

I knew that feeling all too well, and I realized it was the same feeling and look I have when I get regret.

Pity overwhelmed me and I turned my head away from him, feeling guilt tickle me as well.

Water running was all that could be heard in the girl's bathroom, and I was glad no one else could see Grillby inside with me.

Who knows what that could do to his reputation.

Finally, after a long while of letting my wrist soak, Grillby nodded to the lever that started and stopped the faucet.

Not wanting to give up the water so quickly, enjoying the feeling of it roll off my skin, I looked at Grillby and asked in a quiet, guilty voice, "Will you please?"

Shaking his head, Grillby replied softly, his eyes staring into the flow of water, "I can't touch that stuff...."

Shame and guilt followed the same rushing water as it filled me, and I shut it off quickly, rubbing my hands on my shorts (Trying to avoid the parts that were splattered with pastry.

While I dried my hands, I continued speaking, trying to remove my feelings of guilt and talk to Grillby as if the whole thing never happened.

"We shouldn't leave him out alone," I said, looking at Grillby's sad empty eyes.

Had they ever been full of life?

Why was I just noticing now?

"I know..." He cooed, his voice still it's wispy flicker.

Silence filled the room again, as I lost thought on what I should say.

Nothing came to mind, and I turned my head to the side, placing my hands together behind me, trying to figure out how I could be polite in this situation.

My expression turned to the same one Grillby had: Regret.

Finally, Grillby walked back out and I could hear him speak softly to G.