Chapter Three: Definitely, Partially, Possibly, Alone

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     Her door slams shut. It echos roughly into the room, and Frisk can't stop herself from flinching. As her eyes subtly scan the room, she notices that everyone seemed to jump a little. The silence was heavy with discomfort, but someone had to make sure it didn't last.
     "WE SHOULD ALL GO OUT SOMEWHERE!" Papyrus declares. "IT'S BAD TO BE COOPED UP WHEN YOU DON'T FEEL WELL," he concludes, raising his pointer finger.
     "Nah. Just let her keep to herself." Frisk hears Sans mutter hatefully, but rather quietly.
"Maybe we should, if left alone for too long she could do something... irrational," Alphys adds and Frisk's lips press into a thin line.

Can't there be an option somewhere in the middle? She can't imagine having Chara accompany them outdoors. They act as if it's so simple.
     Why not? Let's just bring the girl who hates humanity, who's shamelessly murdered everyone in this room. It's not a risk at all!
Frisk can't help the apprehension that overcomes her whenever she thinks of Chara. That little girl who gave everyone who hurt her in the Underground a second chance is still there. She's well aware of the resent her heart kept for Chara, but she doesn't want to leave it there, not forever.
Still, it's all too much right now. Frisk needs time to go about her feelings, time to adjust to rooming with the person who scarred her.

"I think we can all agree, that this is a lot to take in," Toriel's words are firm, and suddenly it's final.
It's a lot for us too, Frisk wants to strike back, but she lets the world spin on without her. Maybe this is what Chara needs. Maybe this is what they both need.

- - -

Chara listens to the trees sway outside her window, leaves brushing gently against each other.
When she first entered the room, she'd hardly noticed any of the furniture. The bed only came into view when the floor grew unbearable for her back. Today, she stumbled upon a desk and chair, centered conveniently with a window that she soon opened.
Her head was still against the painted white wood. She can feel the sun's warm hand on her scalp, and light lay across her body in streaks.
     Once the air goes quiet and the tress stop dancing, her mind begins to flow.
Chara's hand subconsciously reaches up to touch her cheek.

     Had she really caused Frisk that much pain? Who did she think she was? To use a person as a pawn for her own purposes—it's sadistic, and yet she hadn't seen it.
Chara managed to ignore every aspect of compassion and mercy. What had led her to become such a monster? To find justification in the pain of others?
     Chara can't remember what life was like before Frisk. She had a life, then it was over. Suddenly it's back, but now she's empty. There's no feeling anywhere, just hurt. She's been dug out from the inside.
     If she'd known being hollow was this painful, she would've stayed etched in the dirt. She would have ignored the pull of Frisk's SOUL.
She wouldn't have woken up.

     Chara's grown tired of that awful churning in the pit of her stomach, of that sting behind her eyes, of the wet spots staining her pillow. She just wants it all to go away, but it doesn't. It won't.

     She shuts her eyes tight and tries to close herself off, but the inside of her head was persistent. Her brain is always filled to the brim with penetrating thoughts. They were insufferable, painful, and too much.
     Chara grips her head, gritting her teeth. "Go away," she hisses.
     She hated how the thoughts pushed tears from her eyes, how the wretched feeling was indescribable, how any feeling was indescribable.

     There's a knock on the door. The sound that's normally quiet and simple is now loud and invading. Chara snaps her head up, thankfully released from the turmoil. Her breathing is rapid, and her heart is pounding audibly against her chest
     Without waiting for a response, the door opens.
     "Hey, we're getting ready to head out and—" Frisk's head peeks through, and once Chara's in her line of sight, she tenses. Sweat dotted Chara's forehead and her fingers were making a tangled mess of her hair.
     "Chara, what's—"
     "Nothing." Chara is quick to fix her light brown disarray, hurriedly running her fingers through the knots once she pries them from her strands. Frisk is still standing there when she's done.
     ".. what do you want?" Chara tries not to sound rude, to be polite. Beside that she sounds meek, pitiful, a tone she'd been repeatedly reduced to since arriving.
     "We're going into to the city, just to walk and shop a little."
     "No thanks," she replies quickly. In truth, she would much rather die again than spend time with Frisk and her friends.
     That's when she catches Frisk's golden eyes narrow, and realizes she never asked if Chara wants to go or not.
     "Can't you just—" Frisk cuts herself off. She looks unstable for a mere second, angry, confused. And it's all directed at Chara.
     "FRISK! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAS DECIDED TO ASSIST YOU IN PERSUADING THE OTHER HUMAN!" Papyrus soon barges in, but they don't break eye contact.
     "HUMAN, CHARA, PLEASE CONSIDER—"
     "Okay."
     "WOWIE! I MUST BE SOME KIND OF MASTER-PERSUADER! THE GREAT PAPYRUS TRULY IS GREAT!" Frisk finally looks away from her, turning to walk out the door.

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