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Frisk remembers their family quite well. It was November, leaves falling outside in piles and lumps. Frisk always saw it as beautiful, their family not so much. Their family, specifically their Father, only saw it as chores. Although, supposed 'chores' usually ended in Frisk getting dunked in a pile of leaves. Frisk currently sat on the family's makeshift couch, legs folded under them, fingers messing with a blanket and sewing needle. They were trying to help their mother sew said blanket. It was for their father, he stated he’d always wanted a blanket. They were going to give it to him for Christmas.
“Dear! Stop that! Frisk-- your father is tickling me!” Their mother shouted between laughs. Frisk felt a smile slide across their lips. They stumbled to their feet, letting the blanket fall carefully on the couch. They slipped into their humble kitchen. White tile floors and brown cupboards, nothing covering the doorway. The window was open, letting in the fall sunlight. They felt their small smile break out into a full on grin, fingers’ signing in a quick manner.
‘It looks like his hands are to himself though.’ They winked at their father who in turn winked back, hands slipped into his pockets. Their Mother had her own smile spread across her lips as she jutted out her bottom lip, arms crossing defiantly. She looked like a small child with that expression on her face. Expressions’ looked good on their Mom.
“He was tickling me alright.” She said in a teasing manner. A white apron was tied around her waist, a red heart printed on the middle of it. A red rag sat in one of her hands. Her hair was a chocolate color, her eyes large and full of life. They were orangish yellow, gorgeous all the same.
“I was just kissing you.” Their Father quickly stated, shrugging as if it was no big deal. He himself wore a red shirt, black jeans. His eyes were small and blue. Black hair slightly shaggy. He had hints at a beard.
“With your hands!" Their Father chuckled, shaking his head as white teeth flashed in his mouth.
Frisk decided they wanted in on this too, their fingers quickly moving before either of them could speak. Both watching with raised eyebrows. They wore a black shirt and baggy, tan shorts. Eyes nothing but a squint.
‘Do you have evidence? If not, then it never happened!’
That night was filled with laughter and the smell of baking bread. That night was a good night indeed. That night was a night where their neighbors complained but none of them cared. That night was family.
---
The room had tension in it. Everyone kept to themselves besides the quick glances over toward Frisk’s general direction. Their Mother wasn’t speaking to anyone, her hands clasped together. Frisk felt their own tears sliding down their chubby cheeks. This would be the first time Frisk’d ever seen their Mother cry. This'd be the first time Frisk had ever seen her bright Orange-yellow eyes sad and void of life. Dull and empty.
Frisk opted to stand over in the corner, not wishing to be any closer to the deceased. Frisk’s been to a couple of funerals' in their time. Just not for anyone they knew personally. Not for their Father. Their Father’d teach them how to hunt and climb trees’. Their Father even taught them sign language, they’d been more than happy in those days.
A few days’ after their Father’s funeral, their Mother handed them a white box with pink ribbon. The ribbon was almost shining in the light of a nearby candle. Frisk shifted their chubby fingers, ripping open the box with silent glee. This was supposed to be a Christmas present from their Father, their Father always got them the best gifts he could.
A blue sweater with purple stripes lay folded inside the box. Frisk felt tears slide down their cheeks, silently promising to never take it off.
---
Frisk had been in a slightly better than usual mood today, deciding that a walk would cheer them up. Frisk asked for permission, their Mother granting it was a smile. Everything was almost back to normal minus one Father and dab of happiness.
Upon climbing up a particularly long hill, they tripped and fell down a hole. They originally had no idea it was Mount. Ebott.
---
Frisk lay awake, their form nuzzled into Sans’ and Papyrus’ couch. Their face was twisted in distaste as tears trailed down their cheeks. They never regretted falling down the hole. What they did regret though, was leaving behind their frail Mother. Their Mother having lost both her child and her husband.
Frisk felt a surge of determination spark through them, knowing that someday, they might break the barrier and still have a Mom to return to. They often saw Toriel as their Mom as well, maybe it was because Toriel reminded them of the way their Mother used to look. A special softness in both of their eyes.’ They both had the same eyes’, now that Frisk thinks about it.
Frisk then, thinks about how many resets they’ve used up to this point. How many times they’ve wiped their chances of seeing their Mom again -- their real Mom. They suddenly feel sick with grief.
“Do you really have that right? To reset everything?” They whisper to themselves quietly. Their biological Mother has never heard them talk before and that alone makes them cry. They weep silently into the night, wishing, hoping to make it out of here. To see Mom again.
“Do you really have that right? To see Mom again?”