"That isn't fair to say that. It's not fair to me and it's not fair to you." They sit up a little straighter. Obligingly, they let their knees drop so the temptation to paw at the scabs there falls away somewhat, and their hands drop to their sides to brace against the roughness of the rug underfoot.
They hate that they can be like this, now. Gaze sharper, more astute. Direct in a way they never were before. It's pointed, and it's pointed in a way that always hurts people.
"We've both done bad things. It wasn't just you or just me. It can't have been. Not knowing what we know."
No chocolate. (You took the key and put it on your phone's key-chain.) (I unlocked the chain.) You felt your sins crawling on your back.
Together, we eradicated the enemy and became strong.
"If we're both doomed," says Frisk, the words dropping in pitch, in volume, until they're almost whispered, paired with thin crimson slits peeking out over the ridges of their cheeks, "then we're both doomed."
no subject
They hate that they can be like this, now. Gaze sharper, more astute. Direct in a way they never were before. It's pointed, and it's pointed in a way that always hurts people.
"We've both done bad things. It wasn't just you or just me. It can't have been. Not knowing what we know."
No chocolate. (You took the key and put it on your phone's key-chain.) (I unlocked the chain.) You felt your sins crawling on your back.
Together, we eradicated the enemy and became strong.
A little bit of carelessness? Or something more?
"If we're both doomed," says Frisk, the words dropping in pitch, in volume, until they're almost whispered, paired with thin crimson slits peeking out over the ridges of their cheeks, "then we're both doomed."