Colors | Chara x Papyrus

Chapter Four: Assistance

• • •

Chara stared at the flashing TV with great disinterest.
     The colors flickered and reflected off Mettaton's shiny body. He was covered in sequins, strutting about the stage like a hot pink disco ball. The whole show was basically an expressive automaton posing theatrically in order to gain gallingly loud screams from his fans.
     Chara doesn't get it and isn't sure if she ever will. She personally couldn't stand his aggravating robotic voice and insanely long legs, but everyone else seemed to love him. Due to that fact, Chara felt an underlying need to try and enjoy his productions too, but that didn't seem to be happening.
Chara fiddled with the white adjusters of her brand new black hoodie. She'd found it near the bottom of the bag Frisk had given her, along with jeans and a pair of black socks.
The thought brought her hand to her right cheek. The obvious bruise had long faded, but there was still pain active underneath.
She was horrible, yet Frisk showed her kindness... after giving her multiple, unpleasant, but justified strikes. Perhaps it was her way of physically apologizing for physically hurting her. If that were true then it also means she doesn't regret what she said, and Chara doesn't blame her.
She's sick of the way she always feels whenever thinking of Frisk, and she's tired of being tired of it. Her brain rambles with self-loathing and sometimes Chara just needs it to end. Usually it won't, and it builds up, becoming much, much worse until she's in tears.

Chara turns to lie down on her back, eyes to the ceiling. It's vast and white above her, blank, just as she is.
     The door opens, there's a rush of cold air before it's closed and overshadowed by warmth. Chara had been whisked away by her mind, unaware of Frisk, who walked over to her.
     "I'm glad you decided to change, they look nice on you," she said fondly and Chara flung herself upward, nearly hitting Frisk on her way. She faced her lookalike with a shocked expression, cheeks deepening in shade.
They look nice on you, replays in her head. A compliment? For her? Frisk is either unwell or delusional.
Chara should respond, but she can't. Her mouth is screwed shut, and all she can do is dart her eyes aimlessly around the room as Frisk comes to sit next to her. She's still forcefully occupying her own attention when Frisk rests a hand on her shoulder.
     "Hey."
Chara flinches. She recoils as if Frisk's hand is engulfed in flames. It burns through the black cotton and scathes her.
     That same hand had cracked across her cheek with intended vengeance and hate. That hand was misused against its will, forced to slay monsters until it was caked in dust, trembling.

     "I brought you something," Frisk's other hand held a baggie secured with a purple ribbon. The small bag stored about four brownies, tiny, beaming spiders decorating the plastic.
     "They're from Muffet's new bakery up here. We stopped by and I figured you might want some," Frisk says, and Chara promptly shakes her head.
     "No!" She yelled, and at the sight of Frisk's raised brows quickly clears her throat. "No, I won't— I won't take anything else from you," Chara wavers, her voice jittery.
     "Chara, what—?" The door creaks open once more, Sans and Papyrus murmuring to each other as they enter. In their hands are numerous grocery bags.
    It's as if the second their feet touch the wood flooring, they enter another realm.
The tension is evident. It's easy to spot Frisk's concerned expression and Chara's lack of interaction. Her eyes are glued to the couch, and her hands are a quivering mess.
     Sans is quick to walk up to Frisk, running a hand down her back.
"Hey," he's careful not to sound cynical, but Chara hears the distrust loud and clear. She doesn't have to look up to know his eyes are fixed on her, analyzing the situation, finding ways to blame her.
     "HELLO OTHER HUMAN!" Chara regrets ever leaving her room. "I'M SURE YOU ARE ALREADY AWARE THAT FRISK WAS GONE THIS MORNING! YOU SEE—"
     "I needed to do some shopping. You were still asleep by the time I left," Frisk explains, and Chara doesn't vocalize her gratitude. Instead, she lifts herself from the couch and mumbles an "alright" before attempting to escape back to her quarters.
      Of course, she's denied the luxury of seclusion.
     "HUMAN CHARA!"
     "It's just Chara."
     "CHARA! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD LIKE YOU TO ACCOMPANY HIM!" Chara feels a strong desire to increase her speed.
     "IN OTHER WORDS: PLEASE STOP WALKING TOWARDS YOUR ROOM."
     "No."
     "Chara," she pauses, that voice could stop her in the middle of a crowded street.
     "Hey now, if she's not up for an outing don't force her," Sans chimes in, earning a glare from Frisk.
Chara nearly loses her balance when Frisk continues: "You should try to get along with them since you'll be seeing each other everyday for a while."
A strained "I'm sorry?" is all she can muster.
"Sans and Papyrus are.. moving in," Frisk reveals with much less enthusiasm.
Chara doesn't hide her grimace.
Papyrus is nothing but noise and his brother is all scowls. Overall, the two put her on a place of unavoidable discomfort.
Of course she's acutely aware of how badly she'd hurt Sans alongside Frisk, but his attitude stops her from feeling any ounce of regret.
"I don't want them staying here."
"I know this is already a really.. bizarre situation, but it's not up for debate," Frisk asserts, but her eyes read something completely different. Chara took it as an apology, one she didn't accept. Still, she nods.
Sans must've seen her shortage of genuine acceptance. His expression is dark behind Frisk.
"The decision has been made, afraid there's not much you can do about it, bud."
What I'd give to hack all your bones to dust, she thinks, but it doesn't make her feel any better, probably worse.
"Whatever." She turns to walk away once more, but her arms are suddenly looped in long, bony ones.
"GREAT! NOW THAT WE'VE EARNED YOUR ACCEPTANCE, LET'S GO!" Papyrus says, elated, and begins dragging her towards the front door.
"Papyrus, I'm not wearing shoes."