entrancelogs | standing on the edge of my broken dream, searching for some kind of peace [OPEN + CLOSED]

Entry tags:

standing on the edge of my broken dream, searching for some kind of peace [OPEN + CLOSED]

Who: Frisk, some closed starters, and then YOU
Where: By the Rabbit Hole and then in gay baby jail
When: 12/27 and onward
Rating: PG-13 and up for a suicide attempt
Summary: The world turns on and on without me. This I know well. And yet I wonder. Despite seeing the same places, the people are never in the same spot. The only thing that remains is ȟ᷾̚ö͎᷆w͒̽̎ I̟᷿᷃ f̸̴᷾ͧ̑᷾͘e̯̮͖̓᷾ͧ͊l͈̭̼̟᷅̕͞l͏̶͆ͭ͊͌ͅ.
Story:

* Alphys might work faster.

* But the old Royal Scientist, Doctor ██▓░ █▓▓░▒▋?

* One day, he vanished without a trace.

                                                       * They say he shattered across ti̶͉̐me̺̻᷇ and s͕̥̃p̈́̾̇á̪̤c̨̙̿e̐̒͑.

                                          * Ha Ha...how can I say so without fear?

                                                                                                        * I'm holding a piece of him right h̷͔͖e̮̻̍re̲̾͟.

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They only phase halfway through the wall, trying not to startle the human. The ghost coughs politely, trying to alert frisk to their presence.

".....may i come in?"

They're already inside, aren't they? There's no real point in asking. And they shouldn't say...it'd be rude to say no, go away. Rude. Rude and impolite and wrong.

Frisk is lying on the bed that they will not think of as theirs, staring absently at the ceiling. Their head only twitches faintly to acknowledge the presence of someone else in the room. No knocks on the door; no pretending Frisk has a choice in deciding whether or not they're to be approached and spoken to. Bypassing that rote display of polite rituals - it's almost better this way. More honest.

They keep gazing at the ceiling.

"If you want."

"i mean if you wanted to be alone i wouldn't blame you and i'll go away..... sometimes being alone is what you need? but um i.... i thought you might want to feel like garbage with someone? we, um, we don't have to talk or anything...."

But they're already feeling like garbage full-time, hah. Why change now? No reason for it. Frisk shrugs before remembering that they're lying down, and will have to be more obvious about it.

"Only if you want to." Frisk...has no preference, ha ha. They've learned what it means to prefer things. "I'm not busy."

"okay...."

They enter the room fully, looking around.

"they won't let you have your ukelele?" there's a disappointment in their voice as they ask, not directed towards Frisk, but at the situation.

"Nothing I could use as a weapon." They almost sound bitter, for a moment. Almost. It's gone as quickly as it comes, scrubbed out, scratched away, ERASED. "I'm a danger to myself and others."

It's easy to recite that. It's easy to remember - you're here because you're being punished, all right? Like sitting outside the principal's office with a fresh bruise and dirtied knuckles.

"that.... that stinks...."

For a moment, they wonder why Mettaton didn't do the same to them before remembering how much more fragile corporeal beings are.

"....how could you use a ukelele as a weapon anyway?"

"Creatively."

That's the only response they feel like giving. There are lots of ways that they can think of, purely off the top of their head. They could use it as a cudgel, or they could unwind the strings, or they could...

They can think of a lot of ways.

"I used lots of things as weapons Underground."

It's subtle, but they flinch a little at the reminder. A single bullet of condensed DETERMINATION out of an old rusty-looking gun was all it took to take down their cousin. Before that a worn leather glove. Even earlier, the fallen human with a ghost in their eyes stood in front of them, brandishing a stick. Frisk was nothing if not resourceful.

"but you're different now...."

"I guess." That's what everyone says. One of their hands goes to their forearm, and then drifts back down again. Can't pick at those pieces of themself while company's around. That's...hah. That's rude.

"Not as much as everyone thinks, I guess." They look away. To the side. Can't look at Napstablook directly as they admit to the thing that will probably plunge them back into whatever they were when the little ghost first arrived.

"I tried to kill Chara. Then Sans."

"oh."

The sound sticks to the back of their throat, and the full depth of what the human said has yet to sink in.

"...why?"

"I wanted LOVE," says Frisk simply. There's no good or noble answer there. There's no good reason for what they've done. They haven't done any good ACTs with their life in the last few months, and there's no way to justify what it is they've done.

"I was tired of feeling. And I wanted it to stop."

So what do you do?

You move for the easiest enemy. The humble servant.

You attack the people who least expect it.

"i......i understand."

They look at the floor quietly for a long second.

"i mean... i don't know what LOVE feels like but i.....

i know.... the other feeling."

For the best, if they don't know how LOVE feels. For the best for everyone, the fewer people that know how it feels. It's their own fault for setting out to obtain it in the first place. Though Chara, of course, would say it's due to their influence.

They'd be wrong.

"Yeah," says Frisk, quietly. "I know."

Not wanting to feel anymore. Wanting to just...disappear. Then it occurs to them that, not so long ago - it couldn't have been very long ago, no. And they ask, without preamble or apology:

"Did you ever go through with it?"

The ghost looks up at the child with big, mournful eyes

"no i.....m-mettaton....."

and that's all it takes, they burst into tears.

"mettaton couldn't stop me a-and he... he said he'd do it with me if i didn't stop and i... and i... i couldn't let him and i still want to but i'm scared of m-m-making him d-do it and i can't...."

Their voice quakes with emotion.

"i'm sorry i'm supposed to be h-helping but i c-can't even..."

It's like a balloon swelling and bursting, and the effect is instantaneous. They burst into tears, trembling fiercely, and something in their SOUL twinges. As flat and dulled as everything's gotten to be, they can't truly shut themself away from something like this. Not completely.

Frisk swallows and shuts their eyes and regrets asking.

"It's okay." The words are soft. They rise from the bed and step closer, slowly. "That's the only thing that's kept me here."

Intervention, and the voices of people who said they would follow.

It's hard to put into words the bittersweet comfort in knowing that you're not alone, that it's not just something wrong with you specifically.

The ghost looks up at the human, still crying, eyes wide and slightly scared of how vulnerable they feel.

"i'm sorry i should have- i should have been there too. not just then but also wh-when your mirror-i... i'm sorry i, i'm making this about me and i...."

Frisk waits for them to stop stumbling over their words, even if it takes a moment. They don't have the energy to override them, but they have the patience to make their way through.

"It's okay," they say quietly. Keep their voice pitched low and gentle. Comforting.

"I understand."

Of course they understand.

They were ready and willing to walk into the cauldron to Hell, weren't they?

"it's just.... it's my fault and now he's- well he's still talking to me it's changed.... he he doesn't confide in me anymore and it's all my fault and maybe if i didn't feel like i shouldn't be here but i can't stop feeling like i shouldn't be here....
a a and i shouldn't be telling you this you have enough going on but i haven't talked to anyone about this since.... since i tried and i just.... it's my fault and i shouldn't want to be gone but i do, isn't that the .... the logical conclusion at this point?"

They're sobbing openly now. What is it about the human that makes it so easy to talk about their emotions?

"he hasn't.... even talked to me about it.... since it happened..... i can tell he's keeping an eye on me but we never really talk anymore and it's my fault for feeling this way...."

Edited 2017-01-26 02:20 (UTC)

It all comes gushing out, just like their great ectoplasmic tears. At least there's no bullet box. They're tired, they're tired, but...there can be something nice in helping anther person. In seeing another person get better.

Frisk reaches out gently with one hand to give the little ghost a tentative pat - assuming they can. They're not altogether sure how solid Napstablook has to be for this to work.

"Mettaton doesn't talk to people about things a lot," they say quietly. "He's really very bad at it. That's not your fault. You feel...like you're imposing if you bring it up. Right?"

They look up and nod, looking away. They said too much, didn't they?

They thought so, yes. They don't say anything else for a moment, and they don't look at them either. They drop their hand and let it fall to their side once more, brushing the tips of bandaged fingers against their pants, stained and torn and unwashed.

"He doesn't talk to a lot of people about anything. We stopped being friends, you know. Me and him." And they make it about themself again, don't they? Of course they do. They keep talking, the words dull and even, before they can allow that train of thought to steal them away. "It was easier. We just didn't have to say anything to each other."

"oh.

oh, that's sad...

i'm sorry..."

A long silence.

"i'm sorry i brought him up...."

Frisk shrugs. "It's all right."

It matters very little, in the long run. It's impossible to avoid him, especially now. Things will have to progress to their natural end, like it or not. They'll continue. Over and over, we get up and we start the day anew.

"It's not just you. That's all I meant."

"i.... i guess that's good then.... or at least it's better...."

They stare at the floor, body still tense and still on edge from crying.

"thank you... .for listenin g..."

They swallow down another apology.

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napstablook is an A+ recovery counselor

they're trying their best and that's what matters

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gentle cw:depression talk

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