Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was just another dinner.

Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Noelle busied herself pushing the green bean casserole around her plate, cloaked in a pale blue dress, smeared with the remnants of turkey and gravy. The onions and mushrooms were a far cry from the pizza she wanted, and she tried to stall for time so she could get the gingerbread man promised to her at the end of the meal. All she had to do was bide her time, flash her big ole eyes, and the candy-encrusted cookie would be hers.

It didn't matter that it was the middle of October, nor how the chilly wind blew dried leaves onto the white McMansion walls. Indoors, the Holiday mansion was forever locked in an eternal winter wonderland. The plastic Santas and tin reindeer leered at the monsters from above as they had day after day, meal after meal.

 The same arguments and defusing jokes were being passed back and forth like a practiced game of hot potato. Their outfits almost always fell into a predictable pattern, like those of football teams. Carol rarely wore anything other than her blue business suit, albeit missing her nigh metallic blue blazer as she herself prodded at the food before her. Carol’s tone was drier than the turkey; she confronted Dess about the cheap Newports that were tucked deep into the ratty school bag she toted daily. Dess almost always wore baggy cargo pants, a white T-shirt, and a stocking cap; an antler stabbed through the knitted fabric. In response to her mother's probing, Dess prattled on coolly about how they weren't hers, and Catti had only given them to her for safekeeping, on and on; the excuses flowed like lines on a stage, memorized from the daily spats that occurred between mother and daughter.  Rudy was always clad in some mortifyingly hideous holiday sweater, paired always with a black set of slacks. He acted as refree, ran damage control, and prevented either of the older does from saying something they would regret. Noelle smiled warmly at her father, appreciative of the role he so eagerly filled and his ability to douse the interfamilial flames before they burned her. Rudy let slip that Carol had indulged in much worse habits back in the day with a wink and a smirk; Carol shot him a lethally cold look, her eyes narrowing to slits as her mouth pursed into a thin line. Stifling a cough, Rudy slurped eggnog from his festive mug, his throat suddenly feeling dry as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

Then the phone rang. 

Noelle perked up at the incessant noise, curious as to who would be calling at this hour, and to the home phone no less. Seeing his wife and eldest daughter snip at each other with no sign of stopping, Rudy playfully rolled his eyes as he got up from his chair. The red woolen sweater, emblazoned with images of ornaments and stripes of green, seemed to glow under the crystal chandelier light as he stepped into the other room to snuff out the incessant ringing. The bickering between mother and daughter, and Noelle’s fork scraping against her plate, masked any conversation Rudy was having.

“WHAT?!”

The room went dead as every eye darted towards where Rudy had disappeared to. Rudy rarely ever used that tone; whoever was on the phone, whatever they said, had painted his words with shock and disbelief. Noelle squirmed upon hearing it, remembering the last time her father had spoken like that, and wondered if somehow, unconsciously, she had scratched her name in the corvette again.

But rarer still was the face Rudy wore as he thundered back into the dining room, Carol leaping to her feet at the sight of her shellshocked husband.

Rudy was panicked. Eyes wide as saucers and hunched over. His hands shook with a revelation unlike anything Noelle had seen before. He panted nervously as he half-ran, half-stumbled over to his wife, his form physically shaking. 

“Rudy, what the hell-” Carol was cut short, her tone uncertain and shaken at the sudden deluge of emotion emanating from her usually aloof husband.

“It’s the Dreemurrs,” Rudy choked out, his voice thick with panic and unsung cries. “There's been an accident.” 

Carol's eyes went as wide as her husband's, and Dess’ voice became soaked with indescribable panic as she cried out in confusion. 

Suddenly, the dining room erupted into noise and movement as the Holiday family made their way into the kitchen. Carol scrambled to grab her purse with shaking hands, while Rudy threw on the nearest coat and fumbled through a rack of keys, trying to find a particular set. Dess pleaded fervently, tears biting at the corners of her eyes; she wanted to come with, to see Asriel, to make sure he was okay. Carol, in an uncharacteristically shaky voice, rattled to her core, only told her to stay put and watch Noelle. 

Finding the keys he had been fumbling around for, Rudy seized Carol's arm with urgency as he half-dragged his wife toward the expansive garage. With a metallic click of a door, the whir of garage motors, followed by the sudden rumble of a car roaring to life, then tearing off into the night. The daughters were alone, surrounded by an all too eerie silence. 

Dess was the first to leave the kitchen, Noelle clambering after her.

Noelle was not used to seeing her sister cry or pray. But as the young girl rounded a hallway, following desperate pleas, she saw her sister praying like a panicked nun. Dess mumbled through choked sobs, begging the Angel that Asriel was okay. After becoming dissatisfied with trying to bargain with the unseen deity, she called her boyfriend, or at least tried to.

Hours slipped by like water through a mesh sieve as the young deer’s phone went to voicemail again and again and again. Dess burned her minutes away like cheap cigarettes, one after another, not quite dulling the nerves threatening to break her mind. Noelle flinched with a mixture of fear and surprise as Dess let out a guttural scream, launching her BlackBerry into the wall as it exploded into a thousand plastic pieces.

Dess sank back with a muffled sob, confused and scared in a way she hadn't been since she was a child. As she tried to hide her sobbing face within her hands

Noelle hesitated. Usually, it was Dess that was the one to console her, most often after a prank done up by Kris. Kris, Noelle wasn't quite sure what had happened, but she hoped Kris was okay.

Undoubtedly, Dess was worrying about something similar, another Dreemurr, her Dreemurr. Noelle padded as delicately as she could towards the teenager, Dess’ face buried between her hands, choked sobs slipping out of her fingers.

Noelle raised a hand, it reached out to Dess’ inconsolable form before quickly retracting; no, that would not be the right move. Noelle thought as hard as her 10-year-old mind could. The gears in her small head turned as she tried to suss out what to do, what Dess would do.  

Swallowing her own fears, Noelle padded over to her sister. She sank to the cold floor beside the deer monster and sat with it. For a moment, she let the fear radiating off Dess chill her bones. Then, with the caution of a surgeon, she lowered her head onto the crying girl's shoulder. Dess shot up, eyes red with grief and tears, she whimpered for a moment before leaning her own head on the younger doe’s, her younger sister’s. Tears still streamed down her face as Dess choked back sobs. And eventually, sleep claimed them both, lying against the wall, on the cold, cold floor. 

The sudden thrum of a Garage door opening caused the two daughters, once lying on top of each other, to startle awake. Noelle rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but in stark contrast, Dess leaped up from the prone position and raced to the garage. Noelle only followed behind hesitantly after hearing the door to the garage open and close with the silence and patience of a shotgun. Noelle groggily stepped through the winding halls of her house, inching closer and closer to the door leading to the garage. Clasping her hooved hand around the door handle, she peered out into the dim expanse of the garage.

Rudy had a passion for classic cars; the vehicles decorated in liveries of yellow, blue, and red clashed hard against Carol’s meticulously crafted image of holiday perfection. The car which they had taken, a fancy little coupe adorned in white, ticked with strenuous use. On the cold concrete floor, Dess collapsed to her knees and sobbed, no longer the anguish of fear and anxiety, but a quiet resignation to something far out of her control. Noelle saw her father perched on the ground, and the usual comforting stance, his eyes red with tears as he brought his eldest daughter into a mournful embrace. Carol’s eyes were similarly red; however, she tried to collect herself, hide the true extent of what had happened behind a pursed face. She stalked toward the door with purpose, her hand grasping at something just alongside her. Kris. Noelle’s eyes widened as she saw her friend.

“Why is Kris here? What happened?” Noelle choked through welling emotion, affected by the state of her father, sister, and the tragedy unbeknownst to her. 

Carol flinched in response, unsure of how to break the news to her youngest. She peered down at the young human. Their outfit was stained with streaks of crimson. The green and yellow of their sweater was marred with an unmistakable red. The small creature's hand shook as she clutched it with her palm. But its face was almost statuesque, their lips pursed in a thin line, their crimson eyes staring ad infinitum, with no real destination in sight.

“Kris…” Carol managed to choke out. “Kris is gonna be staying with us for a while.”

Chapter Text

Kris’ mouth was dry as he peeled open his eyes to stare up into the white ceiling. For nearly 6 years, he never felt like he was home. He. That didn’t quite taste right either, but it sounded right, at least that’s what Carol insisted he be called.

With effort, he managed to pull himself into an upright sitting position. The four-poster bed covered in white sheets and green quilts reminded him very little of a place he had called home, and of someone he knew as a brother. This place wasn’t his room. The alabaster walls stenciled with tinsel. A large oak desk with a computer Asgore could never afford, yet there it sat, tucked beneath the desk like unwanted shoes. The closet with more clothes than he knew what to do with; expensive name brands that weren’t hand-me-downs from time before his own. 

Throwing the sheet sloppily aside, he perched himself on the edge of the bed.

Six years

It had been six years since that night, or six years since he first started living with the Holidays, depending on how he looked at it. 

It seems he didn’t really benefit from living in the past; all it did was worsen his mood. Throwing himself out of bed, his feet froze as they hit the cold hardwood floor. Releasing a sigh, he could almost see his breath fogging in the air. He shivered his way over to the closet, opening the large sliding doors to reveal the possibilities for today.

Christmas sweaters, dozens of them. Almost all of them bought within the last three months.

Kris chuckled at that. He remembered going out with Carol and Noelle to pick out something fun for the season, despite that season being the middle of July. Though, to be the devil’s advocate, Christmas in July is a popular moniker.

Sifting through the awful expanse of tacky Christmas wear, he tried to find the least offensive article. With disappointment, he settled on a red sweater with a garish green stripe near the top and bottom. Slipping into the itchy wool fabric, he glowered at the thought of always dressing up like a damn Christmas present, but the alternatives were less attractive.

Kris opted to stay in the black slacks he had slept in before he slipped into the leather loafers and started his way out of the room.

Like a trained rat through a maze, Kris navigated the winding halls of the manor. Most would get lost in the seemingly endless, unused bedrooms and bathrooms; halls that terminated and seemed to lead to nowhere. But to Kris, navigating the peppermint and pine-scented manor was like second nature, a home away from home. 

Descending the staircase into the living room, he could hear the sounds of Noelle and Carol attempting small talk in the kitchen. He winced at the sound. It hadn’t been two years since Rudy was rushed to the hospital. And without his presence, his charming nature, things had gotten significantly worse.

“Move it freak!”

 Kris barely registered the words before being slammed into the bannister, catching himself before the elbow to his shoulder sent him tumbling down the grand staircase.

Wonderful, Dess was awake.

He sighed heavily. A few years ago, he would have shamefully admitted that he liked the older girl a lot. However, the last six years have significantly undermined that position—December Holiday had become something of a tormentor to him. 

One at home, one at school. What a life!

He scanned her form with disapproval. The last six years have seen the older holiday sister grow significantly. The 21-year-old was lanky. Her jet-black hair was greasier than ever. The only article of her clothing that wasn’t consistently three sizes too big was her shirt. The ICE-E mascot stretched taut and wide over her chest; the sleeves of the white T-shirt it emblazoned on only came up to around her shoulders, and the bottom just reached her stomach. Kris scoffed as she disappeared into the kitchen. He should’ve spat something about not stealing clothes off little kids. But he bit his tongue, deciding a fight first thing in the morning wasn’t how he wanted to start his day.

No, a nice pint of chocolate milk would be much better. Kris thought to himself.

He let December entirely disappear from view and gave her a minute head start before he himself crept down the remainder of the stairs and turned into what he could only assume to be the envy of Hometown‘s housewives.

Marble countertops and state-of-the-art appliances lined every wall in the expansive kitchen, and one of the many dining tables sat adjacent to a bar. He only wished the scene laid upon it was as attractive as the kitchenware.

Carol, as per usual, was chiding Noelle and December. He didn’t know exactly what they were arguing about, but at this point, it probably didn’t matter. The pattern the women fell into every day was so predictable that he could tune out what they were saying and still match their emotions play for play.

Carol would point out some perceived flaw, and Noelle would freeze, her ears flattening against her head. December would pipe in, Carol would shoot a dry retort. Noelle would try to defuse and fail. It would happen day in and day out, over and over again.

Angel he missed Rudy.

Kris cleared his throat as all eyes turned to him. December wrinkled her nose in distaste as she glared at the interruption, the nuisance. Noelle's ears perked up, seeing her friend come down the stairs and join them. Her tail wagged as she tried to put on her best face so as not to scare him off before he could even eat. Carol was a stone, her eyes heavy with bags as she scanned his choice of attire. 

Funny, six, maybe seven years ago, he would’ve been enthused to see every single one of the women in the kitchen—Auntie Holiday, Dess, and Noelle all together. 

Now it just filled him with a longing he didn’t want to name.

“You’re up early,” Carol dryly quipped, turning her attention back to the simmering mug of coffee.

“Mmmnf,” Kris barely muttered as he made his way to the massive steel fridge, swinging open the door with reserved abandon. Kris pounced on a glass bottle filled to the brim with chocolatey goodness; he didn’t even bother with a glass. After all, he was the only one who drank the damn stuff. He chugged greedily at the sweet liquid within, knocking back maybe a quarter of the bottle before releasing it from his lips.

His eyes started from Noelle to Carol. Every day, they wore the same thing, and Kris wondered just how many of the same outfits the mother and daughter had in their respective wardrobes. Carol didn’t even try to meet his case, instead focusing on the black liquid within the mug. Black dress skirt, white blouse, blue blazer. 24/7 356 days a year. 

Kris’ eyes shifted to Noelle. She caught his gaze and turned her head with a blush. Skittish as ever, still clad in the same red and green checkered sweater vest. Beneath that, a black long-sleeve dress, the skirt only coming down to about her knees. With a long-sleeve white button-up beneath that. 

Kris didn’t know how she managed it. Three layers in winter was excessive. But in October, with her fur, he wasn’t sure how she survived the-

“Stop leering at my sister, you creep.”

Hi December, you’re chipper. 

Noelle stammered at her older sister's comment, stuttering and choking on her own words as she tried to defend Kris. Carol didn’t even bother as she simply dismissed the eldest daughter with an icy, “Don’t you have something you should be doing right now? Like getting a job?”

December scoffed like she had something in her throat as she stormed out of the kitchen, shooting one last disgusted look at Kris before disappearing back into the bowels of the Holiday mansion.

Carol sighed, most likely due to another long night, trying to wrangle the problems of Ebbot County. She turned to Kris and addressed him with the reverie of a reluctant house guest.

“Finish up your breakfast, I won’t have you make Noelle late for school again.” Carol spat in Kris’ general direction before stalking off with her coffee and the previously unnoticed set of keys. It looked like she was going to take the Corvette to work. 

“And Noelle,” Carol called out from the door to the garage. “Don’t let yourself get distracted. I don’t want to see another B in this house from you.” 

Before Noelle could even reply, the door latched shut. She sighed in defeat, hearing the garage door whirr open and the unstable sound of a 350 small block roar to life.

Noelle turned to Kris. She sighed as a child; it was always a treat to see the young Dreemurr. But she didn’t know if that title would even still apply to Kris. She watched him knock back another quick drink from the glass bottle before she spoke to him, seeing him wipe his mouth on the red sleeve of his sweater. 

“We probably should get going; it doesn’t seem like Mom is driving us to school.” She chuckled half heartedly, releasing a sigh, hearing nothing but crickets from the young boy. 

She quickly hopped off the barstool and made her way over to Kris, standing in front of him. She quietly took his hand, or more accurately, his index and middle fingers. Kris relented; he turned his hand and allowed Noelle to envelop it fully in her own. Giving her a sigh and a small smile.

“Alright, let’s go,” Kris said with the slightest glimmer of happiness—a smile which Noelle returned tenfold.

Chapter Text

For what it was worth, Ebbot County was nothing if not idyllic.

The Aspens had donned their seasonal yellows and oranges, their leaves bristling in the gentle autumn air. The gentle breeze shook loose leaves til they fell like snow. Far off in the horizon, the mountains reflected navy against the blue sky, their jagged edges and uneven surfaces appearing smooth through the haze of early morning dew. The color streaked with white clouds that gently folded against the white peak of Mt. Ebbot. 

Kris took a deep breath. The mountain air smelled of frost and the promise of winter. The leaves crunching underfoot as he and Noelle walked through the autumnal town. The lazy chattering of the townsfolk mixed with the scent of cider and coffee. The miasma floating through the air tickled the noses of the students as they walked to school. 

Noelle always seemed to enjoy the quiet little moments they shared, walking to school hand in hand. Her golden locks bounced as she skipped, humming a tune close to a carol she would belt out in the cooler months. Kris let his gaze linger on her chipper form, the way her face seemed to radiate a content joy. Noelle caught Kris’ eyes, meeting them with an infectious smile, one he found himself returning.

It was hard not to return, even on such a day. Noelle was like a living reminder of better times. Times when he and Noelle would chase each other down the street, their siblings in tow. Where every pile of leaves was better than a roller coaster. Where at the end of the night, he would go home, Asriel all but carrying him inside to the embrace of a mother and warm butterscotch pie...

Today was going to be difficult. Kris rubbed his eyes to prevent the tears from slipping down his face. Years passed, and he was inconsolable then. He didn't eat or sleep. So six years on, trudging through the anniversary with little more than a pout and a tear was a marked improvement, especially in hindsight of how he used to cope. 

“So, any plans after school today?”

The doe turned to face him, a look of surprise painted on her face; Kris was being unusually chatty this morning.

“Well, I got the treasury meeting for the student body. Then, after that, I have track practice, so I’ll probably be at school until around six…”

Kris felt nothing but pride seeing his friend grow up into the woman she was today. He knew he couldn't take all the credit. Despite her rather hostile demeanor towards the human, Dess retained a soft spot for her younger counterpart. Now, Noelle was the head of the student treasury, a candidate for class president, a top pick for the next track tournament, and the highest-scoring student in school…

Heh, take that, you six-piece chicken mcnobody.

Kris was truly in awe; he took another look at Noelle as she all but bounced alongside him. Despite her nerves, he doubted his younger self would even recognize Noelle at his point in time. A far cry from the girl who would all but jump if you so much as tapped her on the shoulder before running off to hide behind her older sister. But now he doubted a younger Kris would recognize Dess; at some level, they would've been afraid of the older doe.

Kris tried to focus on other things. The warmth of Noelle's hand in his own. The crunch of the leaves beneath his loafers. The smell of Hot Cocoa as it emanates from QC’s—the bite of the air as the duo walked to school.

But it was no use. For all that Noelle had grown into, Dess had rotted out into a poor facsimile of what she could've become, her shadow looming over Kris even in the early morning light. 

Dess stunk of cigarettes and alcohol. Her fur was matted and tangled, antlers askew, and her hair bearing more resemblance to an oil-stained brush than the once beautiful scraps of midnight black. Her personality had taken on a chipped and jagged edge. Like an animal abused, she growled at those close to her and snapped at the strange and unwelcome. She glowered more often than not in her room, appearing only to eat and torment Kris. Most often, it was a foul name or slur, and Kris could tolerate that. But occasionally, he had to hide bruises and burns, the promise of worse keeping him from wearing short-sleeve shirts. If  Asriel were here…

Noelle’s demeanor changed when she realized she was dragging Kris more than walking with him. She hesitated. She looked across the street to the mediocre high school; little more than a converted building with trailers, parked on the backside to accommodate the influx of students from Ebbot County. She gave pause. She knew this look well. She had ideas about what he struggled with. She wished she knew the exact names. She wished she could put them from his mind, pluck them out, and drown them so that they never plagued him again. But all she knew were the symptoms of it, the hesitation, the almost vice-like grip he would give anything in hand. And the way his stare tried to find something 1000 miles away.

She squeezed his hand, trying to draw Kris out of this daze. Her smile faltered as she offered safe harbor in a tumultuous storm on a sunny morning.

Eventually, his eyes found hers as the pair shared a moment of unspoken words. Kris broke the contact, his eyes darting away almost apologetically as he turned his face from Noelle’s sympathetic glare.

“Sorry, we probably should get moving. Class Starts in 15.” Kris managed to choke out with a fake smile. He gave Noelle’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. “I-I’ll see you at dinner tonight. Have a good day, Noelle!” Kris stammered out as he skittered across the street.

 Noelle tried to protest his sudden departure, hand outstretched, but Kris had already reached the double doors. His red and black attire disappeared into the small stream of students as the young men and women of Hometown and beyond made their way to class.

Noelle stood there for a moment, the gentle breeze rippling through her clothes, her pleated skirt waving like the leaves in the trees as she stood watching the students filter into the building.

“I love you,” Noelle said, her whisper dissipating into the gentle murmur of the wind.

Chapter Text

Kris was the furthest thing from a prodigy when it came to school. He had his struggles with pre-calculus and English, especially, but he never dreaded going to class nor tried to avoid his schoolwork. Kris weaved through the tangle of students in the halls, five minutes from first period and arguably his favorite: Chemistry. He found the lectures Interesting, and the experiments he was tasked with always gave him a deeper understanding and a yearning for more. A far cry from the opinions of certain other students. 

Angel, he hated her ass.

Thankfully, that purple skink was nowhere to be seen, most likely playing hooky to gargle shampoo or eat chalk. Kris snorted at the thought, smiling at the ridiculous image within; perhaps he could eke through it, bite his tongue, and put one foot in front of the other until he fell asleep. Make it through-

Suddenly, he felt a clawed hand on his shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and his blood turned to ice.

He peeked at the claws on his form, sighing, seeing they were a much friendlier shade of yellow. Draped overtop the cheap button-up shirt was a stained, off white lab coat.   

Alphys. The chemistry teacher wasn’t exactly the most confident person in the world, finding herself sweating bullets even when confronted by students. An air of some mild resignation clung to her like a shroud. She tried to keep an enthusiastic, if not always most fluent, demeanor during class. But that mask often slipped from her yellow-scaled face. Her eyes were often cast down behind coke bottle lenses, as if something precious had been stolen from her.

“K-Kris, the Principal wants to see y-you.” She croaked with a slight frown. Her hand was resting more on his form than actively gripping it.

“Now?” Kris hated talking to the principal; it meant old wounds would be reopened and stitches split. Feelings he thought he had buried were rising from the dead like zombies.

“Now,” Alphys answered, trying and failing to take a more authoritative tone. Kris groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He started again, weaving through the halls as Alphys watched, almost wistful as Kris worked against the grain of moving students towards the front office. 

The Front office was truly a sore sight. There had been an attempt to modernize the office with plaster and drywall, but it was merely a superficial effort. The drywall was warped, with an almost blinding white paste applied on top. The modern material and cheap paint clashed hard against the yellow brick interiors of the rest of the school. The murmur of voices reverberated against the wooden doors as teachers held meetings and students were disciplined by counselors. Kris approached the front desk. A cheap monitor lay atop it, and behind sat the secretary of staff. He was an interesting sight, a touch older than Dess. Though far stranger. The closest comparison Kris could make to them was a tree. A literal conifer bespeckled in accoutrement of an office space, completed by a tie hung wide around the body of the branches and a pair of glasses perched where one might expect the eye level of any other monster to be.

“She’s inside Kris, you're not in trouble, she just wants to talk to you.”

No shit, ever since she got hired on as Principal, she has had this meeting with Kris, at this time, on this day, every year for the last four years. Right now, Kris wanted to be anywhere else; hell, he’d take yoga lessons with Berdley over this. Her presence caused scars to bleed, and with how fragile his state was, he wanted to run from the office. He sighed, defeated, resigning himself to the next 20 minutes of awkward dialogue; Kris knew if he ran, she would physically drag him back to her office. Brushing past the tree, Kris reached the frosted glass door and opened it with a quick and deliberate swing.

“I'm here, Miss Undyne.”

The fish woman looked incredibly out of place in her attempt at business casual. Hair clips kept her fins back, the vestigial appendages fashioned together in the approximation of a bob.

Her white blouse and navy jacket reminded Kris of the uniform she had worn several years prior; further evidence of her former profession was set in resin, holding down several documents: her badge, never to be utilized to scare some hometown punk or interstate traveller again. The bags under her eyes were heavier than Carol’s as Undyne attempted to combat them with a rather large mug of black coffee, the acrid scent making his nose scrunch. The community college degree in sociology was just a touch older than Kris. This previously unused diploma gave Undyne at least some credibility to her position, even as it hung lamely behind her. 

“Kris, it's good to see you again. Please have a seat.” 

Undyne spoke in a metered tone, as calm and flat as an abandoned glass of soda. She had no bite, no fight in her anymore. Just a leering exhaustion. Kris missed her overzealous effort to be a policewoman for better or worse. She seemed happier back then. Be it when she was giving an Anti-drug assembly, or when she would chase down litterbugs with a set of handcuffs. Kris had to suppress a smile as he sat opposite the fish. Recalling one time when she pulled over Asgore for speeding during a high-speed chase on the highway. No, Chief Asgore did not like that.

“I know today is The Anniversary of the accident, and I want you to know I'm still here if you ever need to talk.”

Angel, she's about as subtle as a brick through a window. However, Kris found it difficult to be mad, even if she was indelicate. He didn't fear her or hate her for any reason. Just every time Kris saw her, he was 10 again, her eyes wide as saucers, her face downcast in what was an uncharacteristic frown at the time. Asriel's sweater stained red with Asriel's blood. As Undyne carried the unfortunately conscious boy away from the scene. Red and blue flashing against the rock and dirt.

Kris thought for a moment. He knew that Undyne wasn't doing this for him. If anything, this was therapy for her, a check-in, a reassurance that she hadn't failed in some capacity. And with a sentence so well rehearsed like a prayer Kris answered:

“I appreciate it. But I'm okay.”