They wrap their arms around Frisk's grubby, stained middle. Don't bother to fret over what's too tight, what's lasting too long, what's hurtful and horrible and bad. They just hold on.
Smells... well, doesn't smell great, honestly. The two of them are an awful tangle of soil and sickness and sweat. Better to not consider smell at all. But under that fact, there's the smell of the other half of their room, the scent of a body that they had to share for loop after loop after loop. A little grubby, wearing a bandage that had already been used several times, dirty from a long hike up a mountain. Damp from Snowdin and Waterfall, sticky from Hotland.
Just for a minute, they pretend they're still just a whisper inside of that shell. Pretend they don't have to exist. They press their face against Frisk's muddy shoulder, don't say a word.
...It's not fair. That's not a fair reference. Ancient cracks of sunlight filling the throne room tickle at the back of their mind. Bring back memories of weightless, carefree giggles. He'd said something about how Chara was lucky they didn't have fur, because getting mud off of skin was so much easier. Chara didn't feel lucky to have skin, but they smiled, and it wasn't a smile.
They remember the smell of his fur. He was so soft.
It's not fair.]
They loved each other with all their heart and soil.
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They wrap their arms around Frisk's grubby, stained middle. Don't bother to fret over what's too tight, what's lasting too long, what's hurtful and horrible and bad. They just hold on.
Smells... well, doesn't smell great, honestly. The two of them are an awful tangle of soil and sickness and sweat. Better to not consider smell at all. But under that fact, there's the smell of the other half of their room, the scent of a body that they had to share for loop after loop after loop. A little grubby, wearing a bandage that had already been used several times, dirty from a long hike up a mountain. Damp from Snowdin and Waterfall, sticky from Hotland.
Just for a minute, they pretend they're still just a whisper inside of that shell. Pretend they don't have to exist. They press their face against Frisk's muddy shoulder, don't say a word.
...It's not fair. That's not a fair reference. Ancient cracks of sunlight filling the throne room tickle at the back of their mind. Bring back memories of weightless, carefree giggles. He'd said something about how Chara was lucky they didn't have fur, because getting mud off of skin was so much easier. Chara didn't feel lucky to have skin, but they smiled, and it wasn't a smile.
They remember the smell of his fur. He was so soft.
It's not fair.]
They loved each other with all their heart and soil.