HAZE

Hands

Crunch...crunch...crunch...

The sound of leaves crunching underfoot fell on deaf ears. Frisk couldn't breathe; they didn't have time. They focused on nothing but their footsteps, pounding their feet into the ground. Their mind raced ahead of them, the human unable to catch up.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Trees left behind in the rush, the small child found themselves breaking through the wood line, running straight for the patio.

Instead of the crunching of leaves, they heard trumpets, violins, a piano. Their own panicked breaths and quiet sobbing overpowered by the sheer volume of the party.

They barreled through the door, met with laughter and both monsters and humans alike dancing, the music loud enough to make their eardrums throb.

In my way, the thought came, unbidden.

Frisk tried to look between arms and legs, tried to look around men with drinks in their hands and monsters swinging each other around.

But Toriel was nowhere to be found.

They whimpered. Someone, please...

Impatience put a bounce in their step, in their soul. They saw a gap between the couples dancing in front of them and slipped through, being pushed and shoved and bumped into as they made their way out of the living room.

Someone, anyone, please...

Mom...

Finally, finally, they caught sight of someone--Undyne. Leaning on the kitchen table, she smiled when she saw them running up to her.

"Hey, punk!" She greeted, pushing off from the table. "Where've you been? Mettaton's been asking to have his 'dance partner' come out so you two could steal the show."

Frisk's hands moved, sporadic, eyes watering. Can't talk, can't talk, can't talk, their mind screamed.

And still, they couldn't make their hands spell out the words.

Undyne frowned. "Hey, kid, you okay?" She bent down, seeing the tears gathering in their eyes. Her frown melted into worry. "Hey, what's up? Did someone try anything on you? 'Cause let me tell ya, I'll--"

Frisk shook their head. 'Mom,' they tried, 'where is Mom?'

"Your mom?" Undyne raised her eyebrows, looking around. "Uh...I think out front. Yeah, actually, I think I heard her say something abo--hey!"

Frisk was already bounding out the front door, Undyne close behind.

"Wait up, you dork! You're not gettin' away until you explain yourself!"

Which would be soon, if Frisk could just find Toriel—

Ah.

"Hey, Toriel!" Undyne acted as their voice, seeing Frisk wave but fail to grab their mother's attention.

Toriel turned from her conversation with the bunny who had once been the shopkeeper in Snowdin, eyes lighting up at Frisk coming up to stand at her side, "Why, hello there my—"

Only to dim when she saw their face, their hands scrambling to articulate words.

"Frisk? Frisk, my child, what--"

'Sans.'

'Papyrus.'

'Help.'

That was all it took.

***

Four souls, all fighting for control, were locked in a space in time where time itself didn't move. Static and darkness had made a home there, and none of the souls wanted to be there.