Colors | Chara x Papyrus

Chapter Two: Silent Suffering

     Chara acknowledged the similarities to Toriel's old home. Frisk's property is cozy, full of warm colors, potted golden flowers, and photographed memories. There's even the distinct smell of firewood and baked goods lingering in the air.
She barely made it through the door before a pair of strong arms wrapped around her.
"Chara! It's so great to see you again," Asgore's unmistakeable voice was loud in her ears, fluffy blonde hair shielding her eyesight. Her arms hung lazily at her sides, there was no buzz, no feeling, and no obligation to return the affection.
     She'd been hugged before, a long while back. Asgore would give the best embraces, and though it didn't seem like she enjoyed them at the time, she did.
Where was that sensation now? It feels so close yet so far, just out of reach, dangling. Why can't she just grasp it?

Why is nothing there?

- - -

     Chara followed closely behind Toriel, glancing around the hallway.
     "Here it is." Chara could hear the smile shape her voice. It was distant, her mind momentarily elsewhere.
     "Anyways," Toriel promptly said, turning to Chara. "You're welcome to stay and talk with us! There's—"
     "I'm fine." Chara pushed past her to enter the room. She could hear Toriel sigh sadly as she shut the door behind her.

• • •

     Chara doesn't remember how long she stayed cooped up in there, head in her knees. She was now beyond familiar with the feeling of water streaming down her skin. It tickles.

     The one thing she can just barely remember is Determination. The feeling was warm at her fingertips before she was ripped apart, before the comfort Frisk's SOUL was taken from her.
     It would come as a rush, her own little personal high. Killing granted it, so she grew to not care who she hurt, she didn't care who suffered, she needed it; she couldn't live without it.

     It's slowly fading now, the burn on her cheek. She didn't know if she wanted to hold onto it, to keep feeling something, or if she wanted nothing more than to be done with it, for Frisk's pain to stop being the center of attention in her head.
Chara wanted to stop realizing that she was everything everyone thought she was, that she brought nothing but torment and all Frisk wanted was to get rid of her, for Chara to just disappear so she could be at peace.

Maybe that would be for the best.

- - -

     The familiar sound of porcelain gliding against wood caused her to look up.
     It happens three to four times a day, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sometimes dessert. Food like chicken parmesan, spaghetti (which she knows not to eat), and butterscotch cinnamon pie would slide into her room. She doesn't eat much, but she eats.
     Every few times she'll hear Toriel's voice.
     "Please come out Chara, we're worried."
Only you are, she'd think but wouldn't reply. Chara hadn't used her voice in days, and it's safe to guess that if she didn't push the food back under the door when she was finished, they'd assume she was dead.

     She can hear them talk about her sometimes. Frisk never says much and Toriel always sounds anxious. Of course Sans is there to add how little he cares about Chara's well being, but she's learning to block him out.
     Chara always waits for Frisk to speak, for her to say that Chara's forgiven, but she never does. Maybe that's why it was so surprising to hear Frisk's voice outside her door one day.

- - -

     She'd nearly forgot what her voice sounded like when it wasn't strained. Frisk's voice was always small, shaky sometimes. Usually there'd just be quiet sobs, or utter silence. In those cases, Chara would simply entertain herself.
     But God, her methods were terrible. She tortured Frisk, she knew it, but couldn't tell herself that what she was doing was wrong.