You lay with panting breaths and another hole to your chest on the cliffs overseeing the sea, the Arctic air suffocating you as you close your eyes. Away from here. Away from him and his form that stood over you. To a simpler time-where everything was a lie was in actuality the truth and nothing hurt. Only to open your eyes, a hearty gasp in your lungs as you sit up from an uncomfortable rickety chair. Documents astray and coffee spilled to the side. Aviators that hid his eyes assessed you as he distantly asked a "What's wrong, kid?" And it hurts because he just-just a moment ago he- You died on March 15th, 1981. You come back on February 24th the same year. . . . I love Undertale. And I love angst. Sue me.
4 parts