Colors | Chara x Papyrus

Chapter Thirteen: Embrace Every Color

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Frisk spoke to her about it, briefly, and Chara confided in her because who else was she going to talk to, honestly? Her main line is now the current source of her problems.
Love. She likes the emotion even less than she used too. Definitely too sickly sweet. Chara feels as if she'll throw up every time she experiences it. It hurts too, a dull ache right in the center of her heart. As if someone dragged a blade right down the middle. Like it was previously broken and someone unskilled attempted to sow it back together. Every prick from the needle is a moment, a smile from Papyrus, a sample of his laughter, an example of his kindness and acceptance. With every beat it worsens, and Chara's just tried of it now.
     Unfortunately, a part of her doesn't want to give up, a part of her is willing to try and be with him because she's come too far to just drop it. Feelings have never worked out in her favor anyways. Especially now, because despite the fact that she wants to alter their relationship to something a little more meaningful, a pang of orange and a mix of sweat, rose-tinted cheeks and a swelling heart are vicious disincentives.
     Personally, anything without some form of sentience shouldn't have so much influence over Chara's actions and thoughts. It's as aggravating as it is natural.
     "You have to ignore that Chara, treat them like obstacles to hurdle over," she remembers Frisk explaining, all determined because of course. "Then you just say it: I love you, like it's no big deal but like it is at the same time."
     Did Chara mention she was tired? Not from lack of sleep, but because of how often she'll look at Papyrus and chant I love you in her head, over and over.

I love you.

Papyrus, I love you.

I love you, Papyrus.

     Ridiculous, useless iteration. What good are those tender enchantments, popping like hot oil in the corners of her mind, always wanting to bubble over, to slip through the cracks and make a heart-shaped mess on the floor?
     She can't help but recite them though, because it's the closest thing she has to reality. In her brain it's on the highest shelf. A fragile little thing, too loose, precariously balanced. But matter how hard she tries, no amount of ruthless shaking can knock it over, shatter the glass, have the words come tumbling out of her mouth all heavy with feeling and relief.

- - -

     A few days ago Chara was sitting on the couch one day, upside down, feet inching up the walls as gracefully as one can manage in slippery purple socks. She figured looking at the world from a different angle would be beneficial, force her to view things in a new light. The only thing she discovered was how stupid that sounded when quoted. She did, however, learn that if she was to be upside down for too long, her body —starting with her face— would begin to grow numb.
     She enjoyed the sensation, because it took away from everything her heart was producing. Instead, her body shouted at her to re-adjust herself before she inevitably shut down. Not ideal, but better.
     Papyrus discovered Chara in that position once, complemented her 'apparent flexibility' then smiled at her all genuine and sweet as if he knew it would disassemble her. Her heart overcame the numbness then, and she passed out.
     Chara knew he would be at her side when she woke. He was.

- - -

     Do you love me, Papyrus?

     Came to mind during one of her confession recitals, loud and incorrect as if she hit the wrong key. Not even a minor slip up. She fell off her seat, she shrieked the final note, she slammed the guitar onto the stage to imitate some cheap rockstar movie that nobody liked.
     Chara's exhausted, because that brought up so much more baggage. She swore she'd made it to the last three remaining stacks, then someone piled hundreds more in front of her, wearing the kind of soft smile you couldn't deny.
     She's angry, because she doesn't know how Papyrus feels, and all her worrying and rehearsing and internal suffering could actually be for nothing.
     She's sad, because there's a high possibility he only sees her as a friend, an honor, really, but not a high enough rank to satisfy her.
     She's lonely, because there's no one for her to hold or smile endlessly for. No one to whisper to or place every ounce of her trust in instead of leaving bits and pieces of it with different people, scattered and a mess.
     She's envious of Sans and Frisk, more than she should be. Can she just have it now? What's this whole process that everyone is intended to go though before entering a relationship? Can't it all just work itself out?
     She's guilty of avoiding Papyrus like the plague, treating him the exact opposite of how couples ought to treat each other.
     She's overly conscious of everything. Of their friendship that may grow fragile if she keeps this up. Of her feelings because they're obvious like bright fireworks in a starless sky. If he looked up, if he saw how they strongly they illuminated, what would he say?
     She's afraid of her feelings for him, because they might, could, will destroy her. Chara didn't even ask for them, and now the life she proudly built may never be as it used to.
     She's embarrassed, almost every day when he looks at her, speaks to her, grins at her wide and inviting. She's being held up, right in front of the sun. It burns through her flesh, white hot and scorching but nothing shows on the outside. Nothing except a vivid path, starting at one cheek and crossing the bridge of her nose to mark the other.
     She's in love, and that about sums it up.