By Any Other Name (Flowerfell Sans x Frisk)

Chapter 8 - Separation Anxiety

"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt."

- William Shakespeare

I'm not a very smart man, and I never claimed to be. I knew my limitations when it came to intelligence though anyone who said anything relating to it soon regretted such a decision...Much like I would later regret the decisions I made that day. I needed more space and more time to think, but more importantly, I wanted to see if I could disentangle myself from her and disengage the protective possessiveness I held over her.

When I entered the mess hall, she was already there eating breakfast like she always was, what with her being an early riser and all. My hood was up with the fluff covering my eyes from her view, but I could still see hers through the tuffs. They were shining golden and bright as she greeted me with a warm smile and a soft "Good morning, Cherry!" because she knew it was still too early for me and loud noises bothered me when it was too early. All I had for her in response though was a simple mumble, "Mornin', Frisk..."

Her smile faltered at the lack of nickname, and she knew something was wrong, or at least off. She tilted her head slightly, obviously curious and wondering what it could be, her hand reaching for mine in her attempt of soothing whatever it was...but I stuffed my hands into my pockets. Her hand stopped and hovered there for a second before she curled her fingers and retracted her hand to the isolation of her lap to clasp the other. When I saw her eyes dull to a muted bronze from hurt, it took every ounce of will in me not to just huff and take her hand. My fingers twitched in my pocket, but they remained there as I sat down next to her, my hood still hiding my face from her, but still she tried. Still she smiled.

"Aren't you going to eat, Sans?" Her voice was soft and as unconfrontational as possible, just like it always was. She was always concerned for my well being, more than anyone had ever been before, but I had to see. I had to see if I could cut the strings and let her go. Things would be so much easier if I did...Things would be better...for her, if I did. I was a bad man, and I knew it.

"I'm not hungry," I replied simply, still refusing to look at her as I leaned back in my chair and let my head hang down so my face would remain obscured in darkness. She was silent for a few moments as she stood up and walked away. I sighed, but after a few moments, I was surprised to find her next to me again, holding out a breakfast bar to me. She smiled and explained, "For later, when you get hungry."

"Thanks...Frisk."

She flinched, but she playfully pulled at the top of my hood to pull it further down as she replied, "Of course, Cherry..."

She stood there for a few more moments before adding, "I'm sorry...for whatever I did." She then turned and walked away, and it took the remaining ounces for me not to stand up and follow after her.

The ride to school was quiet, and when I glanced in the side view mirror, I could see Frisk in the back, her elbow on the arm rest of the door and her chin in her hand as she gazed out the window. It was hard to read her from that point of view, but I simply shook my head and tore my eyes away from her reflection. Cutting strings. That's what I was doing. I couldn't afford to fall...

After Toriel dropped us off, I stood there silently and watched as Frisk tried to engage me again. She came to stand in front of me, her smile big but deceptive. She didn't have a very good poker face. I could see the pain that made her smile lack luster, and there didn't seem to be joy in those golden orbs, but almost...desperation, considerate desperation. She wanted me to dance with her again. Not physically, but in life. She wanted our words to combine into a melodic conversation and our footsteps to bring the rhythm of our lives as we walked to her class. Half of the song was missing, and she was searching desperately for it...but I wasn't a singer, and I wasn't a dancer, and I didn't have an answer for what she apparently wanted. I wasn't even sure what she wanted, and I wasn't sure what I even wanted.