Chara had always had a problem with people - and often, people had a problem with them. Not that they cared: they were beyond caring a long time ago. What little faith in the world they once had seemed to have been crushed within days of their arrival into it.
But it didn’t matter to them.
It never did.
They never held much courage, much drive. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that all changed on the day they met them : poor, innocent creatures that had been sealed away from the eyes of humanity and left to rot. Until that point, all of Chara’s hatred, their lack of faith was all simply building inside of them. But now, now ...
They had purpose, reason, determination .
It was all for them .
For him .
They made the decision that they were going to save them on day one, and they never faltered from their task at any point.
That’s why it hurt so much to hear him say those words.
“Chara wasn’t really the greatest person.”
After everything they had done: every cut they took, every flower they’d forced down their own throat - and they still weren’t good enough for him.
For them .
Yet, somehow, they were.
Some child suddenly falls down, decades after them, and simply draws the lines between the dots that were already set out long ago - and suddenly they’re a hero: the friend he wished he’d always had.
How typical of a human.
The room was dimly lit. The sunlight above gently glistened against the golden flowers. Somewhere underneath the dirt lay their body: the vessel they hadn’t possessed in such a long time. There was a beautiful sadness about it. How many years had it been?
They couldn’t help but notice how neither of them would step onto the flowers. Asriel stood next to the bed: but wouldn’t touch a single bud. It was like he was trying to preserve the grave. That in itself was enough to make them laugh.
But Frisk wasn’t, either. They stood, half in the shadows, with the sunlight only slightly cast over their face - like they, too, were too afraid to leave the comfort of the darkness.
Chara knew by now that neither of them knew they were there. Well, Asriel definitely didn’t. Frisk… they weren’t sure about. Throughout their entire journey, Chara felt like Frisk was… aware. But they’d never interacted with, or even taken a moment to acknowledge Chara’s presence. Yet, Frisk had an aura about them that seemed to say “I can feel you”. It almost made them feel like they weren’t alone - which was a foolish thing to believe in. Of course they were alone.
They made the choice to be alone the moment they stepped off the ledge. Then again when they ate the flowers. They had nobody to blame but themselves. But Asriel never made that choice. No. He’d never chosen to be alone - he’d been forced to.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe they really weren’t the greatest person.
For the first time in a long time, they felt something. A burning. An anger. A sadness. Like someone had taken a match to their soul: a soul they didn’t know they still possessed.
Maybe this bad energy was just something that would always follow them around.
Maybe they were the problem.
They felt something slide down their cheek. Taking a hand to their face, they wiped away the dark red moisture - but it wouldn’t go. It kept on coming and they couldn’t make it stop. It was almost like they were crying.
This couldn’t be right.
Their soul was gone long ago. So why… why were they feeling so much?
It was all the human’s fault.
They’d stolen everything from them: their family, their legacy, their determination.
And yet… they’d managed to do what Chara had never been able to.
They should just be happy that the job had finally been done - but they couldn’t be. They were so filled with hate that they’d forgotten how. The last person on this Earth they could trust was Asriel, and now even he hated them.
They only had one remaining option.
Asriel stood in the doorway of the bedroom. The lamp was glowing dimly so it’s light just barely reflected off of the ball of greasy brown hair lying on the pillow in the corner of the room. He was too scared to go any further inside, as if something would hurt him if he did.
Chara would laugh at him if he told them that.
They were always so brave: but he never could be.
His paw hovered over the side of the doorway.
“Chara?” he whispered, scared to raise his voice, “Chara, I’m scared…”
There was no response from the lifeless human.
For a moment, he panicked. What if Chara had died already while he wasn’t there? That would mean the plan was over. He failed and Chara’s death was for nothing. He wouldn’t know how to live with himself if that were the case.
But then he saw it: the gentle rise of their chest. He exhaled a sigh of relief - the adrenaline of his sudden panic giving him the courage to step into the room.
“I promise I won’t let you down Chara.” he felt his tears sinking into his fur, “I’ll try not to…”
“It was all a trick, see?”
Frisk stared blankly at the flower that meant nothing to them. Nothing meant anything to them.
Chara had done it. In a flurry of hatred they’d reset the timeline - even after the flower begged them not to. It was funny, really, to see how close they’d come to salvation - but that was all in vain because of one selfish, curious, hate-filled monster. They couldn’t stand a world in which they couldn’t rule, so they tore apart the world that they’d worked so hard to build and swapped it for one that was more interesting.
If everyone thought they were a monster, then they might as well be.
“After all, it’s me, you’re best friend.”
“I’m helpful. I can be useful to you.”
He’d already betrayed them once. Twice, even. Why should they have to listen to a foolish vessel just because it has his memories?
“Please don’t kill me…”
What the hell were they thinking?
They could never-
He was right. They were the problem.