Chapter Text
The stars are still out when you sneak out of the house. Even with the light jacket you put on, you feel chilled by the time you reach the church.
Your knocks make their way through the halls of the chapel in uneven echoes. He has to hear them. Father Alvin has to be the only other person up at this ungodly hour to begin his routine of lighting the prayer candles and preparing for the daily Mass that only his mother bothers to come to.
"C'mon, c'mon!" You're desperate. You messed up. A life-long streak of pacifism was destroyed because your idiot older brother goaded you. You're better than this. You shouldn't have taken his pathetic little dig to heart, and now you don't know what to do with yourself.
"Father! Please open the door!" You call out, and finally Father Alvin opens the door, one hand on the ancient brass handle and the other rubbing the sleep out of his permanently tired eyes.
His gaze lingers on you as if trying to ascertain what you'd be doing out so early.
"Asriel. Now I know you're not here for juice. I don't put it out on weekdays. But if you'd like, I can get the jugs from the basement." As much as you appreciate the back and forth between the two of you, you're not in the right headspace for it. He must notice it dripping off of you and ushers you inside to a pew. "You seem troubled, Asriel."
You don't respond immediately; rather, you would eat lead paint chips before admitting to your spiritual advisor that you caved in your brother's face.
You've been in this building hundreds of times, but it's as intimidating as ever. You could wax poetic about it, but it's just a big dark building. You've been silent for too long.
"You seem troubled, Asriel." Father Alvin helpfully repeats, urging you to speak using a reassuring smile.
It's not going to get any better without ripping the bandage off.
"I messed up." You say, but the words don't sit right in your mouth. Dishonest.
"Would you care to expand on that? That could mean many things."
"No. Not really."
He laughs at your stubbornness.
"Whatever happened to the young monster that would come to confess all matter of perceived slights against the Angel's will." He laughs again. Not in a harsh, demeaning way you'd expect most people to react, but a kind one. "Well, as much as I'd like to believe you've come to share a cup of coffee and discuss scripture, I believe you came here for some advice."
"Alright," You finally say, "Well, you know how my brother is finally back?"
The sudden raise of his pink bushy eyebrows informs you that he, in fact, did not. He begins to stroke his goatee in thought.
"I can start to see where your problem is coming from. I'm sure many in the community would feel the same way."
"But they shouldn't!" You interrupt. Most of them think of Kris as some sort of cryptid that is going to come and eat their children. If they lost someone dear to them, they wouldn't be making light of them. "And even if they did, they wouldn't go caving their face in."
"Asriel!" He starts, but coughs, "I mean, Asriel, that is wholly unlike you."
"I know! It's just that— I mean, he— they, UGH! I don't like them! Mom's forcing me to share a room with them, and it was bound to happen eventually."
Even if that's exactly how you feel, it doesn't feel right.
"You don't seem proud of punching them at least." Father Alvin says, continuing to stroke his small beard, like that action is the source of his wisdom.
"I'm not! It just made things worse. I'm mad that he provoked me, but I'm more sad that my feelings dictated my actions. It didn't matter what he said, but he saw that I was upset, and he kept pushing me! I hate him!"
There. You said it. Your real feelings on the matter.
"Hate is a… strong word. I don't believe there is any person living under the Angel's gaze that is worthy of that."
But you can see right through him. He's avoiding your gaze like his life depends on it. He doesn't believe what he's saying at all!
"No. I seriously hate Kris. He's irrevocably changed my life for the worse!"
"Asriel…" He starts, but you're not letting him try; you stop him.
"I hate that Dad protected him. I hate that he killed my friend. I hate that Mom is still treating him like he isn't a murderer. I hate that he exists! He should be two miles away, out of sight and out of mind! He destroyed my world when I was only seven. Seven!"
You're spiraling, but you don't care. You lay into the turtle monster, telling Father Alvin every single thing you hate about the human that is ruining your life. Every minor thing, from the way they seem wholly unchanged to their stupid flat affect.
You don't realize you're yelling at him, but you don't care to stop. Look at you, you've been with Kris a day, and you're having a temper tantrum with the one person who can actually see that you're upset! You're pathetic.
You're suddenly pulled into a hug, and you can feel nasty little tears crawling their way through to your eyes. You try holding them back, but instead a sob rips its way out of your throat. You've already made a fool of yourself, so you hold onto him like a lifeline and let the tears roll.
You're supposed to be better than this.
"It is more than understandable to have all of these feelings. What happened to you should not have happened." He awkwardly, but deliberately, rubs circles into your back. "These feelings are like a poison that will only serve to corrupt you. They make you distrustful of everyone around you. They make even the smallest slight seem like a personal attack, as you've seen last night. I know it seems like an impossibility, but even Kris is worthy of mercy. Forgiveness."
"No he's not." You manage between hiccups.
"They are. You mentioned that they've undergone rehabilitation and therapy. And you said that they are willing to talk about what happened. They seem ready to make amends for what they've done. It would be easier to despise someone still trying to convince those around them of their innocence. Perhaps you resent them for trying to move past the consequences of Dess's disappearance when you want them to suffer more for what they've done. I ask you, how long must they carry their burden without receiving some help, if not forgiveness?"
You pull away from Father Alvin and push yourself against the arm of the pew, pulling your legs up to your chest. It must be quite a sight to see a large monster like yourself act like a child.
"I hate when you psychoanalyze me."
"It's not psychoanalysis," he laughs politely. "It's interpreting. I believe that the Angel has put you on a difficult path and you've arrived at a tremendous crossroads. This has obviously weighed on you for much longer than Kris's return. You're being forced to confront these feelings now in a very literal way."
"Why would the Angel do this?" You mumble from your corner of the holy seats. You think it's a fair question, but it only serves to make the Father laugh.
"Isn't that the question of the century? Nobody quite knows, but it's a part of our faith. Faith that the Angel's grand design is for us to do good. The greater good. To be kind when it is hard. To forgive those who may seem beyond redemption. It's these principles that bring out the best in our global neighborhood. Your sibling strayed from the path, but it may be up to you to bring them back."
"That's bull crap." You once again make Father Alvin laugh, but this time it makes you laugh too.
"I'm sure that it does feel that way. It's, as the kids say, a big ask, but the Angel wouldn't ask if they knew that you were incapable."
You let out a sigh of exasperation.
"I hate that you're right. I— I can try."
"It's the very least that any of us can do, now." He stands up. "As much as I do enjoy your company, I'm sure that you came here without informing your mother, and she must be worried sick. Or at least ready to give you an earful about hitting your sibling."
You were lost in conversation that you had completely forgot about it, and now a sense of shame envelopes you. You did a lot more than hit them after all.
"R-right… I'll go and apologize now. Thank you for listening, Father Alvin."
You two share a brief goodbye, and you're on your way home.
/.-.
You try to resist the confrontation, but your body forces you to trudge back home. The lights are on, which means your mom is sitting at the kitchen table with her morning coffee. You take a deep breath and open the door.
As you thought, she's enjoying her brew when she realizes you walked in.
"Oh! Asriel, whatever were you doing out so early?"
"You know, just felt like bothering Father Alvin. Before the sun was out." She gives you a skeptical look lightheartedly.
"And what grave sin did you commit that you felt the need to confess?" Toriel titters.
Just rip the band-aid off.
"I punched Kris in the face." For now, you're going to withhold the fact that you told him to kill himself. You can, begrudgingly, apologize to him in person for that one. You only hope that Kris doesn't inform your mother about that… mistake.
There's a pause as she processes the information. She opens her mouth to begin to speak, only to shut it to think of something else to say. Eventually, she rests her face in the palms of her hands.
You have to stand there, awkwardly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Reprimand, grounding, something, but she just continues to sit there, steeping the atmosphere in pure disappointment.
"I do not know what to say. I have never… expected this kind of behavior from you." She doesn't look at you, but you can see her brows furrowing. "We are going to deal with this. Right now."
She suddenly stands. She stands just a bit shorter than you, but in this moment, she seems like a mountain. She forcefully, yet gently, grabs your wrist, making you follow her closely. The hall house feels so much bigger, or you just feel smaller being led around like a child.
She tiptoes to your shared room and you follow her lead, even if the point is to wake up Kris anyway. Stupid.
She finally quits dragging you and knocks on the door, barely audible against the quiet of the house.
"Kris, my child, are you awake?"
She opens the door and calls again, but you're sure that he's completely passed out. You both enter, and while you stand by the doorway, she wanders toward his crumpled form. You hear a small gasp from your mother as you're sure that she's seen the state of his face. You barely see it, but it isn't pretty. Blood is caked around his nostrils, and the bags of his eyes are a swollen green and purple.
She barely shakes him before his vivid crimson eyes rip open and immediately pulls the covers over his body. Your mother probably didn't think that the psychotic probably shouldn't be spooked as soon as he wakes up.
"Kris, it is your mother. I am so sorry for scaring you…" She takes a tentative step back and clasps her hands. "We need to speak about what had happened between you and Asriel."
Still, he holds the blanket tight, but peeks over to look at your mother. His eyes then pass over to you, and you instinctively avoid locking with them. After realizing that makes you look guilty, you force yourself to look at him. Kris looks worried, like he's waiting for something to happen.
Your mother coos, trying to convince him to get up, but he keeps shaking his head and mumbling something out of earshot. His knuckles are white like he's holding onto the blanket for dear life.
Your mother tries to sit on the bed, but he jolts backwards.
"Mom, that's—"
"Asriel. Quiet." She says with no love in her voice. You don't even know why you tried to help. You're mom's acting like he's a normal kid, not a disturbed and dangerous adult. It's idiotic.
She keeps getting closer and closer, and he keeps trying to get away from her. It's making your teeth itch. He's going to flip out! She tries pulling the blanket, and it reveals his torso and scars. He pulls the blanket back.
Ah. It suddenly clicks.
"Mom, he doesn't want to see him shirtless." You say quickly to avoid being told to shut up again.
"Asriel, please, let me handle this. I was trusted to—"
"He's right," Kris says, shutting your mother up. She seems shocked at this revelation and stops to stare at the human.
"Oh… Oh! Well then, I apologize for not realizing sooner." She goes to leave but looks at you with such distrust. "I'll be right outside."
It's like a stab in the heart.
As soon as she closes the door, Kris is quick to get up, throwing the blankets on the ground, revealing his shameful scars.
"Thank you," He says, digging through the dress and finding one of his old striped sweaters. It's far too baggy on them. They really did shrink in that asylum.
"Don't mention it." You're about to tell your mom to come back in, but your conversation with Father Alvin resurfaces. "I'm sorry that I told you that you should have done a better job cutting. That was… wrong of me."
He looks at you the same way he has been looking at you. With no emotions on his face, but for the briefest of moments, you think you see a smirk.
It pisses you off.
"It's better to tell Mom before she figures it out yourself," you tell Kris. "Mom, they're decent!"
She returns with a determined smile on her face.
"Now. We are going to get through this together. Asriel, is there anything you would like to say to your sibling?"
Angel above, she's treating us like children. You look at Kris and cringe once again at the state of his face. You really didn't think you hit him that hard.
"Kris," You say half begrudgingly, "I shouldn't have hit you. Period."
"And?" She urges on, keen on being a pain in your butt.
"I'm sorry, okay?" The words have a bitter taste about them, but it's the right thing to do. You can be angry in silence and ignore them from now on. You shouldn't be confrontational with someone who doesn't deserve an ounce of your time. Father Alvin once again pops up in your head. Someone who doesn't deserve your time. Yet.
Your mother seems quite pleased with how she handled the situation.
"Good," She smiled. "Kris. I am very sorry this had to happen, but is there anything that you would like to say to your brother?"
You don't expect much from him, always the quiet type, but then he coughs to get your attention.
"I'm sorry I'm invading your space.
That's wholly unexpected, you think.
Kris, you are more than welcome to—" Your mother starts, but Kris raises a hand to say, 'Let me finish.'
"Can we… put a divider up?” He shrugs. “ I think that would be the best for everyone."
Your mother seems upset by this idea, but when she looks between the two of you, she folds instantly.
"That… might be for the best right now. I will find something to put up." She's faltering but suddenly gets a second wind. "Can you two hug it out?"
"No." You both say in unison, causing your mother to giggle.
"I thought now, but you cannot blame a mother for trying. Asriel, you are grounded for the rest of the month. No internet, no cell phone, and no visiting your friends after school." She says firmly.
"Alright." You're not going to argue about being grounded for just under two weeks. Obviously, it could have gone a lot worse. Your mother never was very good at dishing out punishments.
"Now," Your mother claps her hands with a soft smack, "It is still a bit early, but how about I make us some breakfast. Kris, would you like some butterscotch pancakes?"
Kris nods enthusiastically and follows your mother to the kitchen, leaving you to your own devices.
You almost wish that he stayed so you could talk to someone about it. About how normal it was. Like you didn't do anything serious. You punch Kris in the face and now we’re getting pancakes.
You sink into your bed. You feel as if you’re the only one stuck on yesterday.