Magic Bullet Number Fifteen

His back was on fire. The nerves were frayed, torn, broken and it hurt. God, it hurt. Frisk opened one eye, slowly, then the other, and finally sat up. He gritted his teeth as magma rolled down his back and his spine begged him not to do any more moving for the next week, please, for the love of God…

Frisk only forced himself to stand, ignoring the burning sensation in his back. It might've hurt, but it would pass. It always did, eventually. He rolled his neck and felt a couple of his vertebrae slide back into place, or at least as close to back into place as they'd get for the foreseeable future. Then, something he realized he hadn't done in what felt like ages, he glanced down at the flowerbed under his shoes. The earth here was raised, but only slightly. He stayed there for another minute as a thought crossed his mind, a thought he didn't think he'd ever bring back up for a long, long time. "This is it. This is gonna be the magic bullet," he muttered to himself.

He looked up in surprise at his own words. He'd never found the courage to talk this early, and couldn't help but smile at himself for it. See? Things are already changing, he thought. Frisk quickly refocused, as no matter how long he stayed here, nobody ever came this far out to look for him, which he understood. This one crumbling room held more than a few bad memories for him now, too. So, he breathed in to steady himself, kept trying to ignore the pain in his back, and marched into the next room.

Frisk didn't bother looking at the walls; he'd studied them all before, and besides, the walls weren't important. What was important…

"Howdy!"

...Was that he'd have company very soon.

"I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower!" Flowey chirped. Frisk looked down at Flowey's bright, smiling face. "Say…" Flowey squinted up at Frisk for a moment before continuing, "That's a face I've never seen before! You're new here, aren'cha?"

Flowey winked cutely and Frisk felt his breath hitch. His breathing was getting shallow the more the seconds ticked on. Again. "So you wouldn't know how things work 'round here...Guess li'l old me will have to teach ya!"

The ground directly under Frisk's lowered head was getting a bit damper than normal. Flowey didn't seem to notice or care. "See, down here, you'll need LOVE to survive, and we can share LOVE through little...white…" Flowey trailed off for another moment before lying "'Friendliness pellets!'" as expected.

The droplets of brine rolling down Frisk's face didn't care either. "You ready? Okay! Move around and get as many-" Flowey suddenly went silent; probably because Frisk's sobbing was a bit louder than normal now. He wiped his eyes clear and tried to concentrate, but he couldn't bring himself to raise his head and look Flowey in the eye.

He just couldn't.

"Wait."

Flowey's flat tone at least made Frisk pay attention. It was a good indicator he was doing things different this time. "I just realized...I didn't get to explain how your SOUL works. What's happening here…?"

With no warning, Frisk barreled ahead and didn't bother looking up from the stained sleeve of his sweatshirt. He tried incredibly hard to take a wide berth around where Flowey was rooted, but couldn't risk getting caught in any vines that exploded out of the earth if Flowey reacted fast enough; never, in a thousand years, would he ever want to trample Flowey. Wittingly or otherwise.

Speaking of, he could hear Flowey yelling in confusion. "Hey, waitaminnit! Why, you little…! Get back here…!"

Frisk wanted to say "Don't worry, I'll come back!" or "I'm sorry, this is for your own good! Please don't be mad!" or "Everything's gonna be okay, Flowey!" but he couldn't. The sobs he was trying to choke back and force down wouldn't let him do much beyond breathe just to keep himself going.

"Get back here so I can kill you…!"

Frisk knew, deep down, Flowey didn't mean it. And even deeper down, he knew Flowey wouldn't hesitate to rip his soul out if given half the chance. And even deeper than that, he knew the former was still true...in one way or another. He ran forward and through the doors that led to the Ruins proper and didn't even stop to slam them closed to make sure Flowey couldn't intrude. But then again, Flowey could, realistically, intrude anywhere, closing the doors just made following Frisk harder.

Before he even realized what was happening, Frisk looked up and around to find he had slumped against the wall opposite the archway. His head had been buried in his arms, his whole body curled up in a fetal position, and his sleeves were now fairly soggy. His eyes also burned and his nose was clogged with snot. He sniffled and braced himself against the back wall and stood up. "...Must've been crying harder than I thought."

He wiped his nose on his sleeve and glanced around again. No one else was here, but then again, he hadn't exactly wasted too much time in that antechamber; Toriel was still probably on her way over, and judging by his own relative calculations, he had about...two minutes. More than enough time. Frisk looked down to find a stick that had probably fallen in years ago and eventually found its way into this spot. It was part of an old maple tree on the mountain, planted and raised years before the Monsters were sealed underground. It once served as a home to hundreds of bugs and many more birds until, one night, a fierce storm rolled across the mountain, and the gale-force winds snapped the branch off and launched it into the hole.

...At least, that was his story and he was sticking with it. Frisk bent down to check his leg. The bandage was still there, and it's story was far less grandiose: he'd cut his knee on some brambles on the hike up the mountain and, young fool that he was, only brought one bandage, because, "Real men don't need fucking band-aids." He sighed, remembering the days before he'd fallen down and had been able to swear up a storm. Toriel had caught onto him on run fifteen, when he was more comfortable talking to "strangers" again, and boy, had she beaten that habit out of him in a hurry. He would've been more apprehensive if she wasn't an actual godsend.

Frisk sighed and let his shoulders sink, releasing all the tension in them. Even his back was starting to feel better, which was also a miracle in and of itself. And suddenly, the third article came back to his mind, and almost as if on cue, his right pocket felt significantly heavier. Frisk quickly jammed his hand in and quickly found what he wanted to feel: smooth and round. It almost felt like polished marble. Yes. Everything according to plan.

It was then he heard a small, almost inaudible gasp from further off to his right, and he knew exactly what came next. Frisk turned his whole body around and took his hand out of his pocket to see Toriel at the far end of the corridor, covering her mouth with her hands. He couldn't help but beam to her and wave. "Hi there, miss," he said as if he'd never been crying in the first place. Seeing Toriel again wasn't the best thing he was going to see this run–he hoped–but boy, did it come close.

"Oh, my goodness!" Toriel cried as she came closer. "Child, are you well? You must have fallen through the Barrier, and yet..." She knelt down in front of him and reached out, slowly at first, before realizing that he wasn't going to run and placed her hand on his head, and then on his shoulder. "Oh, dear, you're hurt!" Frisk sighed, but kept his tired smile. Toriel was awfully good at figuring out when someone was injured; it was probably part of her secondary magical abilities. He'd seen it in action when he healed some of the kids on the playground during her time as a schoolteacher...for the few runs he had allowed himself to live on the surface for any amount of time, that is.

Suddenly, he felt some of the ache and stinging pain go away, and noticed Toriel's eyes and hands were glowing faintly with bright blue light. "There…" she said at length, "that should ease some of the pain while you heal properly." Frisk's smile came back in full force. Bless that woman! She always seemed to come through for even the tiniest of things. "Ah, but where are my manners?" Toriel stood back up, her hands clasped in front of her. "I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. I come here every day to check if any humans have fallen down." Her expression suddenly turned rather somber. It unnerved Frisk the first time it happened, and when she said, "You are the first one to have come here in a long time…" he wondered why she had been so melancholic. Her encouraging smile came right back as she said, "Come along, I will guide you through the catacombs." She extended her hand to Frisk.

And he wasted no time in bypassing her offering and hugged her as hard as his arms would allow. She gasped in surprise again, but Frisk knew already that it wasn't a sign to be afraid and pull away. It was because they were more alike than he had thought, a very long time ago; both of them had been alone. They were both incredibly sad inside. But not for much longer.

No, not much longer now.

"Ah, I…" Frisk was pulled out of his thoughts and he looked back up at Toriel's kindly countenance. Her eyes were glistening more than usual. "I didn't...You must be...You're quite the hugger," she stuttered. She quickly wiped her eyes and continued, as evenly as she could, "But that is all right! There is always time for hugs in my home."

"I'll admit, it was an acquired skill," Frisk laughed as he pulled away.

Toriel gazed down at him gently before clearing her throat and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Come along, then, my child."

"Frisk."

Toriel paused just as she was about to take the first step to the archway on the stairwell. "...What did you say?"

"I'm Frisk," he repeated. "It's nice to meet you, Toriel."

"As a human living in the Underground…"

Frisk gazed up at Toriel, and then glanced down to the dummy behind her. "...Monsters may attack you. You will need to be prepared for this situation."

Fundamentally, this statement was true. Monsters would attack, but Frisk didn't understand until after several random encounters that they weren't so much initiating combat as they were stumbling into each other like total strangers in a pitch black room, looking for a light switch. Or, more often, he was the one stumbling into the Monsters.

"However, worry not!" Toriel continued. "The process is simple. When you encounter a monster, you will enter a FIGHT."

Frisk shook his head and grinned, but not so much that Toriel would see. FIGHTing just didn't come naturally to him any more. Even if it weren't for him, Frisk's will to physically FIGHT had long been burnt out. He wanted to tell her he couldn't FIGHT in the conventional sense if he wanted to, but…

Well, no one likes reopening old wounds.

"...And while you are in a FIGHT, strike up a friendly conversation. I will come to resolve the conflict!" Toriel concluded. She walked over to the door on the left and said, "Try talking to the dummy I have set up."

Frisk jogged over to the dummy and smiled at it. The dummy did nothing. Before Toriel could interrupt, Frisk left the dummy behind and ran over to her, and hugged her once more. She gasped again, but held him close all the same.

"My, my. You are full of surprises, Frisk."

"Thanks," Frisk said, "It's what I'm best at."

Toriel giggled and said, "Very well, then. Let's continue on, shall we?"

"'Kay."

They moved on, into the next room. Toriel explained the puzzle waiting on the east side of the room, and Frisk followed her obediently, right up until a Froggit showed up. He ran away from them as fast as he could; he always hated how uncomfortable the poor thing looked when Toriel glared them down, and once he learned there was no shame in running, he made sure to abuse it to hell and back. Of course, now that FIGHTing had no real effect on him, he didn't have to stick around if he didn't want to. Toriel was waiting, and led him through the maze of spikes by the hand. He remembered the very first time he went through it. He despised her for holding his hand like some sort of child who needed babying every minute of the day. I'm not a fucking baby, he'd thought, It's not like I'm gonna cry if I don't get my bottle, lemme go, lady!

He tried to struggle away back then, but her grip was far stronger than he'd ever expected; he wondered if she'd even noticed he was trying to break free. But that didn't matter anymore, because he'd warmed up to the idea long after the fact. Knowing that he couldn't escape helped speed his acceptance along, and said grudging acceptance gave way to actual contentedness. Up 'til now, he'd practically been taking her hand first when she'd offered to lead him through the maze.

And then there was the next room. Toriel walked out in front of him and turned back to say, "I would like you to walk to the end of this room by yourself." She paused and added solemnly, "Forgive me for this," before taking off to the other end of the corridor. The first time, it had almost looked like she'd disappeared into thin air, but the reality was she'd only jumped behind a pillar at the other end and Frisk's eyes couldn't focus that far away. He was freaked out the first time.

This time, he bounded to the end of the room as fast as he could until he reached the pillar, and slowed himself down before Toriel walked out from behind it. "Greetings, my child. Do not worry, I did not leave you." Frisk sighed. Not relief...not relief in the way Toriel was probably interpreting it. Her dialogue had been the same, save for the obvious variations brought about by evading Flowey. But same was good. Same was very good.

"I was merely behind this pillar this whole time!" She beamed as if she'd told the best joke in the world and everyone was laughing at it. Frisk couldn't help but smile, too. Bad jokes were right up her alley, and thanks to Sans, his, too. "Thank you for trusting me," she added seriously. "I wanted to test your independence."

"Were you afraid I was going to…" Frisk nodded his head over to the pillar. "Spontaneously column-bust?"

Toriel hadn't expected that. She quickly covered her mouth with one hand, after her face had shifted from confusion, to shock, to joy, all within the span of half a second. Frisk could hear her trying to stifle her laughter. She wasn't doing a very good job, though, considering he could still hear it, loud and heavy.

"O-oh…" She was trying to wipe the tears from her eyes, trying to pass it off as something else. "Oh, my goodness…" She had to pause a second, and then she looked down at Frisk. She was beaming. "So full of surprises."

Frisk only grinned at her.

Frisk lightly poked a ghost who was pretending to sleep on the ground with the toe of his shoe. In response, he rose up.

Here comes Napstablook.

Frisk didn't have any time to waste. He immediately gave Napstablook a reassuring wave.

"...hm? Oh….hi," the ghost murmured. "i didn't see you there….."

Frisk smiled and replied, "It's okay. I heard you like coming here sometimes. I wanted to tell you a joke." Without skipping a beat, Frisk recited, "Why didn't the ghost go to prom?"

"...he didn't have any 'body' to go with….?"

Frisk giggled. "No, he didn't have a ghoul-friend!"

Napstablook didn't say anything. He was quiet for so long that Frisk began to wonder if he even heard the punchline. Then, faintly, barely audible, he heard Napstablook utter a low, monotone "...heh."

Frisk only smiled again and gave him a thumbs-up, and he waited for Napstablook's response. It took a couple minutes before the ghost stared down at the ground in a pensive manner and then quietly spoke again. "...let me try….."

Napstablook began crying again, except the tears drifted upward in all defiance of sound logic and reason, and quickly formed into a very spiffy top hat. "i call it 'dapper blook.' do you like it…?"

"I think it looks great on you," Frisk said.

"...thanks." Napstablook looked around before continuing, "i like coming down to the Ruins. there's nobody around…..but today, i met someone nice….." Napstablook sunk to the ground and added, "oh no, i'm rambling again…" even though Frisk knew for a fact the ghost couldn't yammer on even if he tried. Certainly not like Mettaton. "...i'll get out of your way."

Napstablook faded from view and Frisk hurried onward to the next room. He almost immediately ran into two Froggits and a Migosp. Dealing with them was easy, of course; Frisk could probably do it in his sleep if he wanted to.

"Swing your arms, baby!"

Frisk only chuckled and let Migosp do their little happy dance while he moved on. He was about to jump into the next room before he remembered to check his pockets. Not only did he have seven Gold, but he still had his ace in the hole. It would never hurt to check; he couldn't be sure if Flowey knew he had it and wanted to pickpocket it from him with a stray vine. All the same, he ran back to the spider bake sale and left his Gold in the web on the left. A horde of spiders raced out, took the money, and left some homemade Spider Cider in its place, which Frisk gladly picked up.

He had to admit, Spider Cider was an acquired taste, but it had grown on him.

Soldiering on, Frisk crossed into the next room with it's six different pits. Considering he felt kind of hungry–especially after coming out of that last run–he fell into Vegetoid's hole on purpose, and was rewarded with a snack. Not exactly the best tasting snack in the whole Underground, but he wasn't about to be picky. Also, he had taken about two points of damage and only healed one, so...minor losses. He went back to the correct pit, flipped the switch, crawled back out through the holes in the wall, and continued on to the "switch stairwell," as he called it.

He only thanked whatever God was out there that the puzzles weren't the likes of which he'd read in some of the adventure comic books he read. If he was ever faced with puzzles of a similar caliber, he'd rather lie down and accept death; not even determination could help him power through that.

He was about to flip the red one when something bumped into him from around the corner of the pillar, and he soon found himself face-to-lack of face with a Loox. They were probably the one monster he was actually cautious around, though it was mostly because of appearance; nobody wants to stare down a giant eyeball with horns, two arms, and two legs. But Frisk decided he needed to tell someone else of his plan, and maybe Loox was the Monster to pull it off. It couldn't hurt to ask, but he was getting tired of going through it over and over and over again.

And God only knew he wouldn't resort to getting the knives out anymore.

"Hey, uh...Mister Loox...?" Frisk began hesitantly. The loox recoiled in surprise, slightly, but obviously enough to mean that they hadn't been expecting Frisk to talk to them in a straightforward manner. "Would you, um...like, you know...would you help we with like...leaving…?"

The Monster made no indication that they didn't want to listen to what Frisk had to say, so he continued, "'Cause, like...I mean, I like it here, but Toriel's, like...really...really stubborn? So could you, um...like, after she locks the door to Snowdin up, maybe, uh...sneak around her and...uh, y'know...like, unlock it?" The silence between them was so thick, Frisk wished he had Mettaton's chainsaw to cut it. "...Please…?" he finished awkwardly.

Loox only gazed at him, but eventually, they muttered "...Only if you promise not to pick on me."

Frisk was so taken aback he almost forgot to swear on it. He quickly crossed his finger over his heart. "Promise."

Loox was silent for a moment before they rolled their singular eye. "Finally, someone gets it," they sighed in relief. They left without another word, but Frisk continued to stand there awkwardly, until a renewed sense of purpose came knocking on the door to his mind. He wiped the vacant expression off his face and marched out of the room to meet Toriel again.

⭐The thought of avoiding conflict altogether fills you with determination.⭐

Consciousness oozed back to Frisk. It was a slow process, obviously, but when he awoke, he felt himself covered in wool blankets and linen sheets and the lights in his room were off. He never liked it when they were off, though. The first time he had slept in this bed, he felt uncomfortable, like someone was watching him. Now he understood it better: he felt like an intruder, like the room didn't belong to him.

Which was a fair assumption, because it didn't.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swung himself out of bed, still dressed in his sweater and shorts. There was pie waiting for him on the floor. Frisk smiled. The more he played this little game, the more he appreciated the smaller things, and no matter how many times he ran through the Underground, Toriel's cinnamon-butterscotch pie always tasted fantastic. He picked up the slice of pie and ate it quickly, but not fast enough for it to be considered "wolfed down," and he left his room and went back down the hall. Frisk came to the living room, where Toriel was sitting in her chair in front of a roaring fire, busy reading one of the few books she had brought with her, years and years after she had left New Home. Frisk had read them all, at some point or another, but he'd never stayed longer than two weeks. Nothing changed no matter how long he stayed, another boundary he couldn't break within the rules of the Underground.

But even though he couldn't break all of them, his boundaries had opened up considerably.

"Ah, up already, I see?" Toriel looked up from her book, but trailed off before continuing, "Um, I want you to know how glad I am to have someone here...I have so many old books I want to share!" Frisk walked up and gingerly got up on the recliner to sit on her knee. He looked like an oversized baby, but he really didn't care. It's not like anyone was watching, anyway. "And I want to show you my favorite bug-hunting spot."

Frisk smiled up at her. "That sounds fun!"

She paused a minute before she hesitantly said, "I've also prepared a curriculum for your education." Toriel probably expected Frisk to groan. No one under the age of forty enjoys school; if they did, that's probably because they were either using it just to see their friends...or they were a business major. Frisk didn't voice any displeasure, mainly because Toriel was a great teacher, and also because he'd heard her repeat that phrase more than a hundred times before.

"I expected that," he shrugged.

"Oh!" She looked a little surprised. Maybe she had expected a more subdued response from the girls that had passed through her care, but Frisk was certain by now that whoever owned the old boxing gloves and six-shooter were not the kind of people who would want to stay cooped up in a classroom all day. "Well...good! It may come as a surprise to you, but I have always wanted to become a teacher…" She trailed off again. "Well, perhaps that isn't very surprising."

"Still…"

Frisk spluttered and tried to keep himself from laughing at Toriel's disgruntled expression. "I am glad to have you living here." She looked down into Frisk's eyes, and sensing something once more, asked, "Oh! Did you want something...?"

Frisk didn't move for a moment...but he shook his head. Then he paused, as if weighing his options, and reconsidered. "Actually, when's lunch?"

Toriel broke out into laughter. "Ah, dear…" she said wistfully, "I should have known. You must be at that age when little boys will happily eat whatever they can so they can keep growing." Frisk chuckled. "In that case..." she said as she moved to get up; Frisk happily jumped off her. "Perhaps I can spend today teaching you some of my homemade recipes. I am certain there will come a point I will be off doing my errands and won't be home before it's time to cook a meal, so perhaps it is best if I taught you first."

"Ooh! Can you teach my how to make that butterscotch-cinnamon pie?" Frisk asked excitedly.

This only earned him a wry grin from Toriel. "Just so you could make it when I am not home and eat it all?" she chuckled, "I don't believe even a human should have such power."

Frisk continued laughing as they made their way into the kitchen, and Toriel brought out all the pie tins and ingredients to start the lesson.

He was supposed to be asleep hours ago, but Frisk had other things to worry about. Mainly how he was supposed to see himself writing in the darkness of his room, but even that wasn't as bad as how he was going to word this note.

"...I'll...be out...for–gah, no!" he fumed as quietly as he could. He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the wastebasket next to him, dragged out a new clean sheet, and started again. "Dear...Miss...Toriel…" He shook his head without realizing it. It was so hard not to call her "Mom." Especially after all this time. "I'm...really...sorry...you had to….learn...this...way…" he continued. His pencil stritch-skritch-scratched against the paper, and he didn't like it. It felt like even the tiniest sounds would wake her, and explaining all this would be way too difficult. He shook his head again. Resetting now was doable, but man, it would be a punch in the gut. "...But I...have...to go...to...Snowdin…" Frisk put the eraser in between his lips as the thought before continuing, "...But I'm...not...going...to...leave...the Underground…"

He stopped and stared up at the ceiling. He hoped someone was watching; if not the doctor, then maybe God, or whatever higher power was out there. He silently prayed for this plan to work. This was his last resort. If this failed, he'd…

Frisk cleared his head, going so far as to slap himself. This will work, and if it didn't...well, he'd just keep trying until he got it right.

The magic bullet.

"...I'll...come back...with a surprise...for you...okay…?" Frisk picked up the paper and read the message over. He reread it. He read it again. He read it several more times before he hastily added, "Please...don't be...mad...at me…" He must have checked it over fifty times before he decided it was good enough and got out some tape. He got up and cracked his door open slightly; the hall was dark.

Frisk stuck the tape to the paper and reached up as high as he could to stick the paper to the door before he crept out into the hall and slowly, carefully, shut the door behind him. Inch by laborious inch.

When it closed with a click, he tensed up and whirled his head around wildly. Nothing else moved. "...Okay. Okay, good…" he whispered to himself. His sweater was getting damp. He turned toward the foyer and took one last look behind him. The hall was still dark and bare, and somewhere close to the end, he heard a faint buzzing noise that sounded like it was coming through the walls. "Alright...cool…" he told himself, "Nothing to worry about…"

He crept down the rest of the hallway. Every floorboard creaked when he stepped on it, and the way his ears were now working at hyperspeed, Frisk swore he could pick out a mote of dust settling on a coffee table. He looked back over his shoulder; nothing moved in the corridor behind him. He entered the foyer and shuffled around the railing to the stairs, and when he came to the first one, he checked it with one foot.

It sounded like the beams of the house were bending.

Frisk froze and whipped his head around behind him. No movement. No other sound.

Must've been in my head.

He tried again. It still sounded like a breaking wooden beam with a megaphone in front of it, but Frisk tried to ignore it. The second step didn't sound much better. It sounded like two-hundred foot oak tree was being felled in the middle of a thunderstorm. The third step sounded like steel being bent with a ball-peen hammer. Frisk ignored all of it, repeating You're only being paranoid, over and over in his head as he went down into the basement.

Once he hit the stone floor at the bottom, he took one, two, three steps before breaking into a full sprint.

He didn't bother to look behind him. It would be better to focus ahead and not worry about what would happen if he got caught. Toriel might be disappointed, but the worst part was that he'd have to reset. Still, he could barely concentrate on moving forward with the sound of footsteps echoing off the stone. Were they his? Were they Toriel's? Did they belong to someone else? Frisk didn't know. He just ran.

He ran until he saw the exit of the Ruins ahead of him, and only then did he slow down.

By the time he collapsed up against the heavy-set stone doors, he felt like his lungs were going to burst and his legs were on fire. He only sat with his back to the door, panting heavily; it remained that way for a few minutes before Frisk worked up the courage to glance behind him. He really didn't want to. He knew what was waiting for him: a very angry Toriel, arms crossed and squinting down at him. Tapping foot was optional, but expected.

So he guessed he shouldn't delay the inevitable, and he slowly looked behind him. His eyes widened.

Toriel wasn't there, but there was a loox standing a few feet away. Frisk remained frozen like that for another moment...until they gave him a thumbs-up.

Almost all at once, Frisk felt the ache and the pain go away. He stared, dumbfounded, before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing, and glanced back up at the door. He braced himself...and he pushed.

The door rumbled as he opened it, which made him stop and glance behind him. It was a bit loud, but fortunately, he could squeeze out with another nudge. Frisk looked through the crack and saw a snow-covered path through a great maze of trees, and he smiled.

Oh, he smiled.

Frisk proceeded to sidle between the double doors and while he was still facing the inside, gave a quiet "Thank you," to Loox. They nodded and smiled back before going forward and closing the door up from the inside again, leaving Frisk out in the cold.

But, oh, it didn't feel cold anymore.

A/N: A companion piece to a comic I'm working on ( .com). This story's meant to be like Deltarune: the same (well, similar) characters in a different setting.