"Ah… I see…" Toriel whispered in response to Frisk's answer. They bit their lip, wondering why Toriel sounded so crushed. She knew that they would visit her right? That this wouldn't be the last time they would see them? It hurt to leave them, but Frisk had to go check up on his family. Their human one. The last time they had saw them, their mother had been-

"Well, I hope that I am not keeping you." Toriel's detached voice shook them from their musings. Frisk froze at the harshness of her words. They sounded accusing. Bitter. They clenched their fists. Couldn't she see that they didn't want to go? That they wanted to stay, but they couldn't?

No, that was cruel of him. She couldn't read minds. She just didn't know.

Toriel gave a curt nod, before turning and walking away. Frisk's chest felt tight and small tears stung their eyes. She had only walked a few steps, before pausing. She turned to look at them and spoke once more:

"Frisk." She said softly, and they couldn't stop the small hopeful feeling bubbling in their chest.

"'See you around.'" And she turned around and left. Frisk sagged at her words and turned to stare at the setting sun. They wondered if it was even worth going back home if it meant Toriel, the only woman who had ever acted motherly them, would hate them.

It didn't seem like it.

The place where they stood was silent and empty. All of their other friends had already left, gone to explore or tell the others. Frisk didn't feel like encountering anyone. Perhaps… It would be best for them to leave already.

Yes. It was probably for the best.

And so they turned to the path heading down to the bottom of the mountain. They checked their pockets and were relieved to find a small human banknote crumpled inside. It would be enough for a bus ride into the city. As they walked down, they purposely tried to shove the thoughts of their friends to the back of their mind. Their adventure was over now. There was no need for them to stay. They had to leave in order for them to look after Mother.

After all, no-one else would.

They knew that their older brother would ignore her, and leave her in a pool of her own alcoholic vomit. Their father would be too busy with work and his… female associates. And God knew that their mother would be too drunk to clean herself up. That left Frisk up to the job. They had been dragging her intoxicated body to the sofa, thrown a blanket over her and mopped up whatever vomit or other fluids their mother would leak since they were four. They were the one that would clean up the wine glass shards and the broken bottles.

They could barely remember the beautiful woman she once was. Or, the woman she would be in front of the neighbours. To the school. To everyone but her family. They knew how she looked in front of others. Perfectly coiffed brown hair, beautifully done nails, designer dresses and shoes, with a gleaming flask filled with vodka hidden in her leather purse. But at home the house would smell of alcohol. Shattered wine glasses and large bottles filled with the poisonous liquid their mother would drink would litter the kitchen floor. When they were lucky, their mother would still be awake when they got back from school, and they would be able to help her to the couch, to make her coffee and bring her water, while mopping up the amber liquid dripping onto the tiled floor.

Sometimes she would already be sleeping; a delicate hand clasped around a bottle. That would make it harder for them to transfer her to the sofa, but it was easier for them to pry the alcohol away.

The worst times were when she was angry. Or vomiting. Both were equally disgusting. Anger would usually have upset shrieks and sharp nails until she wore herself out. With vomit, Frisk had the danger of their mother choking on it. That and it left an awful mess.

Both were unpleasant.

They were startled out of the memories/facts, by the sound of the bus approaching. Frisk snapped their head up, shocked that they had climbed down the mountain so quickly. With luck, it would take Papyrus and the others longer to get down.

Ducking their head, they hurried to the bus stop, before rushing on. The bus driver raised an eyebrow at their behaviour but did not comment, other than his standard: "Place?" Frisk smoothed the crumpled banknote and held it out.

"To the City Centre please," they mumbled out. The bus driver took the note, stared at it, before tucking it into the small box and handing out a handwritten ticket. "Enjoy your ride. It's gonna take a while."

Frisk barely nodded, before moving to the back. There was no-one else there. Only them and the driver. They had forgotten how barely any people went to Mt. Ebott. The missing children were one large factor, though it also had to do with how dangerous it could get. Rockslides frequented the rocky terrain, and it was through special thick wire nets that stopped the debris from falling onto the road. Frisk hoped that the others wouldn't get caught up in a sudden rock fall. Their chest tightened at the thought of the others. Would they hate Frisk like Toriel did because they had to go home? They swallowed harshly at the idea.

But then again, would they really care? Undyne tolerated Frisk at best, and they weren't all too close to her. The same went with Alphys. They barely knew anything about the two of them. Frisk had barely spoken with Asgore, so they doubted he would worry much. Papyrus had his brother, and Sans…

Well, Frisk was certain that Sans hated them. He had made that clear at the restaurant at MTT resort.

Besides, they barely knew anything about their 'friends'. All they knew were the basics. The things that everyone knew.

Though if Frisk had to be honest, they had only known the others for a week. It wasn't long enough for proper bonds to form. They remembered the quick dismissal of the others after Frisk beat Omega Flowey. And besides, Frisk had barely spoken a word throughout their journey. The others hadn't even known their real name. Instead, they all called Frisk the first fallen human's name. And that hurt. Because it meant that they were simply a replacement to Toriel. A mere imitation of her lost son. And the others… They were only special to the others because they were a human. And now they could have plenty of humans. They would make new friends and forget about Frisk. And as painful as that thought was, they accepted it. Because they were used to being forgotten. To being used. They knew what it was like to be pushed aside and ignored, because that was their entire life before the Underground.

It was dark when Frisk finally returned… 'home'. Their house was an exact replica of the other houses on the street. It was a typical cookie-cutter neighbourhood. Of course, the neighbourhood was slightly upper-class, and most people who lived there had money. Frisk stood in front of the simple oak door, hand raised to knock against the wood. Soft anticipation and nervousness rose inside their stomach. Maybe, just maybe, they had noticed their disappearance. Maybe they had been worried. Maybe… they cared. Frisk swallowed down their nervousness and knocked. They waited for someone to come down, for someone to answer. Even though it was late, the lights were still on. Panic welled up in their chest, and they knocked again, harder than the last time.

Finally, after waiting several minutes, angry footsteps could be heard through the door. It was yanked open and a young man glared out.

"What?!" He growled out before looking and Frisk gulped at their brother's ire. He finally looked down and sneered as he caught sight of them.

"Where the fuck have you been? Those bastards at your school have been calling non-stop saying you haven't turned up for the past week. Gary is absolutely livid at you," he spat out, not bothering to conceal his hate for his younger sibling.

"I went to the mountain," Frisk replied softly and their brother scoffed.

"Doesn't make a fucking difference to Gary. The old man is gonna beat the shit out of ya, ya know that?" He said gleefully, and they froze. Frisk knew first-hand how angry their father could get, and though he had never hit them, there could always be a first time. But their health didn't matter. Frisk had to ask about the person they had come back for.

"What about Mother? How is she?" They asked quietly, and their brother barked out a cold laugh.

"The bitch is fine. Drunk outta her mind, but what's new about that? She'll only stop drinking once she's dead." The information was spat out with more hate than ever and Frisk was barely surprised. It was no secret that their brother hated their mother more than anything. There was however, one more person Frisk wanted to know about. Another person their brother despised. Maybe even more than their mother.

"Has- Did Loretta-?" Their brother hit Frisk on the head, practically frothing at the mouth. They fell to the floor, clutching their throbbing head.

"Are you fucking stupid?! When will your tiny miniscule brain finally get that she doesn't care about us!?"

"What the hell is going on here?" Both of them froze. Frisk gulped heavily and turned their gaze up to the icy stare of the man they called father.

"Oliver. Get inside. Your loud voice will disturb the neighbours." He commanded, and Frisk watched their brother slink inside. As he turned to leave, he gave one last glare at Frisk. Then, he was gone.

Meanwhile, they were alone with their father. He stared impassively at them, and Frisk couldn't help but shiver softly. Their father's rage wasn't loud or noticeable. It was quiet, simmering and scalding hot. He wouldn't raise his voice, instead choosing to speak in soft, smooth tones. And his words were harsh. They were cold, cutting, calculating. They lashed out at where it hurt the most and spoke of sharp threats, woven deeply in his words. He made you feel worse than trash. His words cut deeper than any knife and were more poisoned than arsenic. Their father smashed any self-confidence they had, he crushed any happy feelings and he made their self-hate grow deeper than the Underground.

Frisk was terrified of their father.

After all, he was the reason they ran to Mt. Ebott.

Frisk crawled into bed that night with a bruised cheek and a shattered spirit.

Their will,

Their psyche,

Their determination

Was completely destroyed.

The mountain was abandoned. Most monsters didn't want to stay once they had been freed. After all, who would want to stay near their prison? Frisk wondered why they were going back though. Why they would torture themselves by going to the place where they made their happiest, and most cutting, memories, was a mystery. Maybe it was because they wanted to relieve their few precious memories; maybe it was because they wanted to feel the happiness, the joy (the pain) by going back.

Maybe Frisk just wanted to feel something, anything once again.

After… that night everything had changed drastically. They went through their day automatically, barely feeling anything. They were constantly tired, constantly lethargic and slow. Frisk felt like a doll, mechanically going through their day, pulling the correct faces and faking the right emotions for when they were needed. And yet all they felt was a swirling emptiness, a hollow ache in their chest and the everlasting tiredness. It wasn't a physical fatigue, something that could easily be cured with a night's sleep. Rather, it was a mental weariness, an exhaustion of life itself.

And that was why Frisk was back at Mt. Ebott.

To do what they had tried to do the first time.

Besides, it would be better this way. It would be better if they died. After all, they were the only one with the power to reset. And if they were dead, no-one could force the monsters back underground by resetting.

Yet why did that reason sound like an excuse to them?

Maybe because it was.

Because it was easier to have a reason to kill yourself. It was easier than having the only explanation of 'I was tired'.

Because that was the real reason why they were going to go throw themselves of the mountain. It was a selfish reason. And yet… they were fine with that. Perhaps the Frisk in the Underground would have been different. Perhaps that Frisk would have had more reason to live. They probably would have stayed with Toriel and Asgore and Undyne and Alphys and Papyrus and… Sans. That Frisk wouldn't have felt so tired and hopeless. That Frisk would have their family (real family, not the pitiful excuse that they had).

But they didn't have that. They were alone.

(Being alone was what they were used to after all.)

They were wearing the same clothes they had worn while in the Underground. Somehow it had felt fitting to them. To die permanently in the clothes that they had died in several times before. They hadn't packed much, only a water bottle and some sandwiches. They planned on having a picnic on the mountain before they died. It was somehow poetic to have their last meal on the mountain that had brought them so much joy (and pain, never forget the pain).

Frisk knew that no-one would ever find their body. No-one came to the mountain anymore. So no-one would find their corpse. And again, they were okay with that. It meant that they would be able to rest in peace with no disturbances.

It wasn't long until they finally reached the cliff where they had last seen all of their…family. Frisk sat down and opened their basket, taking out a sandwich. They chewed mechanically, while staring blankly at the setting sun. The splashes of orange, red and pink against the sky made their (hollow, so, so hollow) chest clench at the sight. They put the sandwich down and lifted the water bottle and gulped down some of the water. Frisk put the bottle down once more, not bothering to pick up their half-eaten sandwich again.

Frisk had hoped…

They had hoped that by eating at that place, that by sitting there…

That maybe they would feel something again.

That maybe…

They would come by.

But nobody came.

And so Frisk stood up, ignoring the pack and sandwich on the floor. Somehow, they felt (an echo, it was barely anything) excited. It would finally be over. Their tiredness, their nothingness… It would be over.

They were going to die.


Was going to die.

And they couldn't wait.

They took a step forward, closer to the cliff's edge, and anticipation roiled deep (ever so deep) within.

Another step.

And another.

And soon they were almost at the very edge. Just one more step, and they would be-