black then white are all i see in my infancy [closed + open]

[determinedest]

Who: Frisk and a few closed prompts + a few open ones!
Where: Alphys's lab, by the vendors, maybe more?
When: 11/01 - 11/08-ish (may be subject to change)
Rating: PG-13 for children in peril, suicide ideation, depressive mindset, and bad decisions
Summary: Shit happened. Someone give this cast an intervention.
The Story:

[A hot oil-slick of numbers running through their mind in a burning cacophony does not lend itself to anything but pain, bright and blazing. It cuts into their teeth and their tongue and the inside of their cheeks - or maybe that is simply them biting deep into the flesh in their mouth to taste the warm tang of it to remind themself that they are not simply numbers they are not simply numbers they are not simply numbers they are real.

It crests in a burgeoning wave. There is no tide there is no pattern there is no regularity there is no respite it simply is and it tears through them, every jerk and wrench of their body shuddering in its place like hot marks shearing them open.

They can taste blood.

Is it yours?

Or mine?

It does not matter.]

Comments

[determinedest]

They...

[Should they make that a question? That'd be polite, wouldn't it? To say that they really need more friends or something. But it'd be ruder to push back against that pronouncement, because Mettaton's right, they know he is, because he's older than them and he knows better than them and he's Napstablook's cousin, so of course he'd know best for them.

They should agree.]

...do. They do.

[mettatonvevo]

[Mettaton doesn't know the mental gymnastics Frisk is jumping through to try and be the "perfect" child. All he knows is the quiet pain of this conversation, as he finally stops strumming the ukulele. The notes wither and die in the autumn air as he looks out over the gardens.]

Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep you for much longer.

[He places the ukulele down next to Frisk.]

Eventually you'll be able to enjoy playing this again. Maybe not now, but eventually.

[He wants to believe that they will.]

[determinedest]

[Keep them from what? They're not sure what he'd be keeping them from, but...that's all right, isn't it? It doesn't really matter anyway. He's probably right.

They stare down at the ukulele and dip their chin faintly in a vague nod.]

Okay.

[They'd say that they'll try, since he seems to want them to, but that'd be a promise they're not sure they can keep. They can't try much of anything right now.]

[mettatonvevo]

[He looks to them a bit sadly, trying not to make this more painful for either of them. Frisk may not be able to feel anything now, but eventually they will. Eventually these memories will cause them pain upon reflection and he hopes that this one won't sting quite as much.]

Good bye for now, Frisk. Take care of yourself.

[It feels odd to be making the same walk back to his room after the last time he spoke to Frisk in the gardens. Now, however, he wonders what is worse: their argument, or this gaping void they have stretched between them.]

[determinedest]

[Take care of yourself.

They suppose they should. Better than they have been, anyway. If they took better care of themself, they wouldn't have ended up in this mess. They've really messed things up, haven't they?

Oh well. Can't care about it. It's happened, and now they're just...here.

So they nod.]

Okay.

[And they let him go.]