Colors | Chara x Papyrus

Chapter Eight: Dirtied Refelction

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     Chara had never been one to look in the mirror.
     Every time she looked at herself, she saw something wrong. It's as if everything about her was.. incorrect. And unfortunately, the more she gazed upon herself, the stronger her judgement became.
     Though Papyrus made it known that it's okay to be lonely, to feel guilt or sorrow, this is different. It's similar to guilt in a way, however, but it's centered more around herself than her actions.
Well, her actions make her feel this way about herself.
     The mirror in Chara's room was full length, framed by solid white and utterly insignificant.
     She had yet to experience seeing herself even once.
     Getting dressed didn't require seeing her own appearance. However she looked was how she looked, and it was up to someone else's discernment.
     Chara habitually passed on by it, knowing it's there, ignoring her own physical characteristics.
     She wasn't used to caring about what others thought of her, but nowadays when she looks at Frisk, or feels another pair of eyes on her, her stomach cramps up. Being alive again has caused so many issues she doesn't remember having to deal with.
     Her body soon appears, reflected by the mirror. Chara grimaces; she was the spitting image of Frisk. The only differences she had going for herself were her devilish eyes, and that wasn't a pro.
     She looks demonic— that's what Frisk probably called her, a demon. They're just a constant reminder of who she is, of who she no longer wants to be. It's equivalent to a permanent scar from a curse, tainting her in the eyes of other and herself.
     Chara isn't pretty, she knows that. She is pale and thin with quite a bit of muscle but otherwise scrawny. Though she has a symmetrical face that was relatively pleasing to the eye, her own scarlet pupils ruined it.
     Frisk's eyes are enchanting, golden and calm. She has smooth, unblemished caramel skin and soft dark brown hair. Chara knew Sans hadn't taken interest in Frisk for that, but she was sure it was part of the reason, a lucky bonus.
     Sans is always glaring and sneering and giving her the cold shoulder. Of course the main reason for this is because she killed everyone he cared about, set him back, then did it all over again, then again, and again, and again.
But maybe, just maybe, part of the reason she's easy to hate is because she's unappealing.
Chara realizes she's been staring at herself for much longer than intended. There's a desperate longing to be endearing like Frisk, or even to just be normal.
Why aren't her eyes hazel or beige? Though it's not her preference, she'd even take blue or green.
Chara, in a random burst of unknown emotions, storms to her desk and plops down into the chair. She takes a pack of markers (a gift from Asgore, since she apparently enjoyed coloring (little did he know the only things she drew were pictures of monsters only to scratch them out) as a child) and sifts through it until locating the red. Chara reaches for a stray piece of paper and clicks the cap off the marker, immediately drawing a large frowning face. Afterwards, she heads back to the mirror, taping the paper where her face was to be reflected.
That's better, she thinks.

- - -

After a while of sulking on her bed and casting brief glances at her mirror, there's light knocking on her door.
"Chara? Are you awake?" Frisk's kind-toned voice calls. "I'm coming in," she says, and Chara internally grumbles at the sound of the creaking. Not wanting Frisk attempt to awake her when she already is so, Chara sits up.
Frisk is, oddly, dressed for an outing. Adorning her body is a lilac sweater, blue jeans, and black rain boots. She'd even taken the time to do her hair, shiny and neat with a glittering accessory.
It makes her want to tug the hood of her dark hoodie over the mess commonly known as her hair.
"We decided to head to the lake, it's a nice day out," Frisk informs with a natural smile.
Chara would rather stay in her room and do nothing. Something about going out in public sounds terrible, but being left alone without access to anybody sounds awful too.
Besides, she can't find it in herself to say no to Frisk anymore, after everything.
"Okay." Frisk beams and is off before Chara can ask when they're leaving. Seconds later she returns, a similar sweater to her own in hand, except it's green. It's held out to her, and Chara feels her heart momentarily swell, but it soon deflates.
She's going to look like such a disappointment next to Frisk.
Chara has a troublesome amount of difficulty holding onto and accepting that thought, and decides she won't go anymore.
"Frisk I—" but she's already down the hall.