Chapter Text

The next few days were mostly devoid of conflict. Chara returned to their usual routine of commenting freely on the day's events, sometimes snarky, sometimes cynical, sometimes cracking puns that would have done Sans proud. One thing Frisk noticed was that they didn't complain quite so much over the next few days, nor did they issue commands. Time spent surrounded by noisy friends would usually draw low groans from the back of their mind or requests to wrap things up, but now the things Chara usually argued against were met with silence. Silence, and an energized feeling of anticipation.

As ambivalent as they tried to act about the coming Sunday, they were practically bouncing up and down in excitement for it. They would stop narrating for periods of time in which their emotions wandered through quiet musing, as though daydreaming about things they might do when given free rein. It was adorable to see—or, rather, feel them this way. The sensations put a smile on Frisk's face whenever they felt them through the barrier in their head.

But it also gave them a measure of guilt.

No one should have to be this excited just to be able to use the body they lived in. They couldn't help but wonder—what if the situation had been reversed and Frisk had been the one to have died from their own stupid choice? What if they had wound up tagging along with another human years later? Would it have still taken them so long to suggest sharing?

They tried to put those thoughts behind them whenever they came up. After their time in the Underground guilt had become an old friend; they knew, at least roughly, how to handle it by now. While some of it could be reset away there was still only one thing that could move them past it in the long run.

Keep moving. Try to do better.

So they allowed themself to enjoy the rest of their week and Saturday, hanging out with friends and pretending to be a normal teenager. It was their usual routine and it served them well, and by Saturday night, a Chara who would usually have been grumpy from all the socializing was instead radiating excitement into every corner of their mind.

They settled into bed a little earlier than usual—it wouldn't be fair to leave Chara feeling exhausted on their first day steering—and felt a general sense of contentment. Not having control of their body for a day should have sounded like a nightmare, but... it was Chara. It wasn't any scarier than falling asleep. If anything they were curious to see the world from their point of view.

"It's all yours tomorrow," Frisk said in their head, rolling comfortably to their side. "Excited?"

Chara didn't answer right away, but their emotions were tangible. Bright, vivid excitement with streaks of nervousness. Neither came through in their voice. "...yes. Thank you."

"You deserve it," Frisk said earnestly. They really wanted to ease that guilt and keep them focused on the positive. "You're a hero, Chara. I could never have saved anyone in the Underground without you. I definitely couldn't have saved Asriel."

"Hmm." Their emotions took on a different shade at the mention of Asriel. Frisk kicked themself—they knew better than that. They both had a lot of powerful emotions centered around the prince of the monsters, but Chara's were almost overwhelming. Their love was burning. Their guilt was smothering.

They were going to say something else to distract them, but Chara beat them to it. Their tone was surprisingly soft, letting a little more emotion through than usual. Affection.

"Good night, Frisk. I'll see you tomorrow."

"'Night, Chara."

They again drifted off filled with hope, feeling nothing but nervous butterflies from Chara.

Asriel... why'd Frisk have to mention Asriel?

Though they felt hope radiating from Frisk, as it always did, they were suddenly having a hard time feeling it for themself.

The SOULless didn't deserve it.

Chara refused to get out of bed the next morning.

When Frisk came to in the morning it was with a panicked presence in their head, causing them to bolt upright with a pounding heart and fists clenching their bedsheets. It took a moment to realize that all was well—no energy spears or mini robots were attacking them. No psychotic demon flowers were cackling at them for foolishly thinking it was safe to sleep. All there was was Chara. Chara, holed up in the back of their mind and trying desperately to wall off the anxiety they were flooding their shared mind with.

"Chara? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. I—Frisk, I changed my mind. You steer today. I don't want to."

Frisk blinked tiredly, wiping the sleep from their eyes with a baffled expression. "What are you talking about? You've been looking forward to this all week!"

"I was." Their voice was forced, sounding like it would have half caught in their throat if they'd been speaking out loud. "I was. But thinking about stretching my legs or enjoying the sunlight is different from actually going downstairs. Facing Mom. Going outside. Having to talk to any monster or human who wants to talk to you because they think I'm you. When I can't actually be you. When I am dead and can't just pretend to be alive-"

Frisk was completely dumbfounded. Chara never rambled like this. Their tone was always so forceful, so commanding. They'd never heard this kind of anxiety in their voice, not even back in the Underground where sudden violent death was always a few poor decisions away. They were still tired from getting up and felt like crying, not even certain whether it was their own reaction to Chara's distress or the result of that distress bleeding over to them. Taking a deep shaky breath they closed their eyes, willing their thoughts to be as forceful as they could make them.

"Chara. CALM DOWN."

The voice stopped rambling out their fears and anxieties, but they didn't calm. Their emotions were still raging like a bonfire.

"...listen," Frisk went on more gently, "You know everyone that I know as well as I do. Some of them better than me. You can talk to them just fine."

"You don't understand."

"Can you help me understand? 'Cause you're having a meltdown over something you really wanted yesterday."

"I just can't, Frisk. I said no. I'm turning down your gift. That is the end."

"But you've been planning-"

"Stop it. Everything I have ever planned has ended horribly. Just for once in my life I am deciding to win the game by not playing."

Frisk was silent and crestfallen, before a solemn look crossed their face. Fine. If Chara needed a push to get going, Frisk would roll up their sleeves and shove.

They flopped right back into bed. They could smell breakfast downstairs, but they refused to get up. Chara didn't speak again but Frisk could sense a flash of irritation from them.

Sunday was not going to be another Frisk day. Even if they had to lie here counting the bumps on their ceiling until sunset.

"Frisk!" It was Toriel's melodic voice calling from downstairs. She sounded bright and cheery today. "Breakfast is ready, dear."

Chara's voice returned to their mind with its usual crisp command. "Get up. She's going to think you're sick if you stay in bed."

Frisk folded their arms defiantly. "It's a Chara day, so that sounds more like a you problem."

"For the love of—I am NOT steering," Chara snapped. "I refuse to have this. It was a bad idea."

"It wasn't. You're just being a baby again."

"Really. I am being a baby. You are the one refusing to get out of bed out of stubbornness."

"You say stubbornness, I say determination."

"...Frisk?" Toriel's voice had already picked up its dreaded spike of concern. Heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.

"Frisk!" That frantic anxious edge was coming back. "Frisk, get up already! She's going to be terrified if you won't even talk to her."

"Yeah, no shit!" Frisk shot back. "She's had her kids just up and die in bed before!"

Chara's spike of emotion was accompanied only by strangled, half-formed words. Frisk winced, kicking themself thoroughly. Again? They'd done it again? Why were they like this? Why did they always wind up being the cruelest to people they cared about?

Stubbornness, panic, and most of all guilt flooded through both of their minds, scrunching up their shared face and practically short-circuiting their brain. And so it was that two teenagers in one body were laying flat on their back in bed, staring up at the ceiling and involuntarily making radically conflicting facial expressions when Toriel burst in through the door.

"Frisk—my child, are you alright?" She was by their bedside in an instant, feeling their forehead and clearly overflowing with concern. Her hand was so warm and so gentle, yet shaky at the same time. "Please, talk to me. How are you feeling? Is there anything you need? I'll call the doctor-"

"I am fine, Mom."

Frisk's own voice stunned them coming out of their mouth. They'd never heard it like this before—hearing it loud and clear, but not having willed it to speak. They felt themself sit back up in bed, stretching as though just having come awake.

Toriel let out a sigh of relief, followed by a nervous chuckle. "Oh... of course. I'm sorry, Frisk. Just the nature of a fussy old woman at work. Unless you are feeling ill at all? If so merely speak and I will-"

Frisk's body suddenly leaned forward, hugging the old boss monster tightly. She breathed out in surprise, but was quick to return the embrace.

"I said I'm fine," said Chara. Their voice was muffled in the hug, and strained by a peculiar tightness. Frisk wasn't sure they had words for the emotions they were sensing from within. "Just... just didn't feel like getting out of bed this morning."

The embrace lasted for what felt like a while longer before Chara finally pulled away, leaving a bemused and still very much concerned Toriel.

"Well... it is a Sunday. If you are feeling that way I would be remiss not to give you your space. Would you like me to bring some breakfast upstairs?"

Still choked by some emotion, Chara spoke softly again. "No. I will come down shortly. It's a nice day and I don't want to spend it in my room." They hesitated before a smile spread out over their face. "Thank you... Mom."

"Anything for you, dear." She stood up with a warm smile of her own, eyes slightly watering. She hid her face immediately, masking it by striding to the window and pulling open the curtains to let in beams of radiant sunlight. "And you are absolutely right. It is a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. It is the kind of day that should be enjoyed."

She turned back to face them, a trace of seriousness returning to her expression. "But still. If there is anything you wish to talk to me about—anything at all—please do not hesitate."

"I won't. I'm just going to shower and change and then I'll be down for breakfast."

"Very well. I'll keep it warm for you." Though she still looked unconvinced that nothing was the matter, she still smiled warmly and left the room. Once she was gone Chara let out a long, deep breath before speaking only in their head.

"You are an asshole, Frisk."

Frisk replied back guiltily. "I have my moments. What I said was really nasty though. I'm sorry."

Chara gave a non-commital 'hmm.' "You told Snowdrake no one would ever love him for who he is. I am relatively unscathed."

They took a moment to get fully out of bed, moving their body experimentally. They flexed their toes as their feet touched the smooth wooden floor. They pulled their arms close, wrapping them tightly around themself as though it were the only way to confirm they were real. They took a long, deep breath, filling Frisk's lungs and exhaling with the ragged sigh of someone long dead.

"But... maybe that was the kind of guilt I needed just then. I forgive you."

"I am your humble servant," Frisk said awkwardly. "Um... you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I forgot how... well..."

"How emotionally ill-adjusted I am about literally every single thing in my cursed un-life?"

"I wasn't going to say it like that, but sure, why not?" Frisk joked. "I forgot how crazy you are."

They could feel Chara's amusement both from inside of their head and as the ghost of a chuckle escaping from their lips. It was so strange to have actual body sensations to go along with Chara's feelings. Strange, but... nice. They continued on a little more seriously, trying to sound assuring.

"But... really, Chara. If anything's too much, I can take over for you. Just until you're feeling okay again."

Chara didn't answer for a moment, and they could feel them considering the offer. Slowly they shook their head. It felt weird to be interpreting that expression from the inside. "Talking to Tor—to Mom wasn't as bad as I was afraid it would be."

"It felt like it meant a lot to you."

"...yeah. In fact I was kind of thinking... it'd be nice to talk to Dad again too."

"He'd love it if we stopped by!"

"And maybe I could help out in his garden..."

"Yeah! We could garden!" Frisk cut off. If they had total control over their face right now they'd have wrinkled their nose—a little bit of the expression might have bled over anyway. "Wait, garden? Like, in the dirt? With plants? That's what you want to do on your day?"

"You said I could do anything." The words were simple and matter of fact, but they sounded accusing. Frisk backed off from the comment as quickly as they could.

"Of course you can. I'm just surprised, is all. Also I hate gardening."

"Well I hate socializing, so we'll be even," Chara said, roughly split down the middle between irritation and smugness. They seemed to be feeling a little better, and Frisk for the most part remained silent as Chara began the same morning routine they'd been watching day after day from the back seat of their mind.

It was strange, but Chara wasn't yet sure what to think of inhabiting a body again. It was at once freeing and paralyzing.

They'd expected to have a lot more trouble with the mechanics of it than they did. Walking turned out to be just as easy as they remembered it, as did the more delicate acts of taking off clothes and putting new ones on. They'd been slightly anxious over that—their situation was entirely devoid of privacy and the act of changing clothes in front of each other had long since lost all embarrassment, but Frisk's internal laughter would have been unbearable if they'd fallen over while trying to put on a pair of pants. As it turned out they needn't have worried. They piloted a human body like a natural.

The terrifying part came in when it came to all the myriad choices there were in the world. That was the part they'd forgotten. Finding the words to speak to their own mother had felt almost impossible, and even now, just standing in front of Frisk's open wardrobe, the choices ahead of them were nearly overwhelming. They wound up taking their sweet time with it, trying to ignore the impatience emanating from Frisk's half of their brain. If they had had the saint-like patience to not have a meltdown when Frisk had wanted to examine every last snow poff in existence, Frisk could deal with this for a bit longer.

...right? As much as they knew Frisk wanted them to enjoy their day guilt-free, that was easier said than done.

They finally settled on a set of clothes that had long existed in the very back of Frisk's wardrobe. There wasn't anything wrong with these clothes, but they'd been some of Toriel's bargain purchases and didn't suit Frisk's tastes at all. Chara picked a shirt with a collar and a touch of green and headed for the mirror.

Looking at themself in the mirror made it so glaringly obvious they weren't Frisk. Their face had settled into the same constant, some would say creepy smile they'd always found themself wearing in life. The remnant of an early life where openly wearing the anger and misery they felt would have ended poorly. That smile had always been inextricably linked to their own face, and though they knew it had bled over to Frisk's expression from time to time, actually looking at it felt unnatural. As did their stance for that matter, much more rigidly formal than the slouch that Frisk was usually content with. Even something about their eyes felt wrong. They weren't red—thank goodness for that—but their mere gaze felt like a dead giveaway. If the eyes were the windows into the SOUL, then what would people see if they looked closely into Chara's?

This was a mistake. Any time at all spent like this would clue everyone in that a SOULless undead parasite was puppeteering Frisk's body. They were an abomination and it was so abundantly obvious and they really should have-

"It's you!"

Frisk's tone was surprised. Surprised, but somehow... delighted. They interrupted Chara's downwardly spiraling thoughts with a chipper enthusiasm that they could scarcely understand. They blinked in surprise, replying slowly.

"...technically, Frisk, it's still you."

"No it's not." They sounded thoughtful, but still happy. "The smile, the clothes, the eyes... everything's you. I've only seen your face in photos before!"

They sounded so excited by what they were seeing. Why? It was such a confusing perspective. Since when was being able to see the Chara in their eyes a good thing? As strange of a sentiment as it was, though... Chara found they liked it. A little bit of a blush made its way to their cheeks. The warm feeling from Frisk increased in turn, and it filled them with determination.

They messed up their life last time, but... maybe it really could be different this time around. They definitely wanted to try. With a renewed vigor they made their way downstairs for breakfast.

Breakfast was quiche, and it was delicious.