VOXISTALE - Episode 1 "A Happy Ending"

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Once upon a time…
A human fell underground.
Beneath the surface, they made friends.
Made enemies.
Made mistakes.
Made things right.
After a long time, the human decided to stay, calling the underground home.
The monsters, her family.
One day, the underground was destroyed, but the monsters were able to escape, thanks to the human.
For years, they have lived on the surface.
Their story is far from over...

Voxis City.
The largest city in the world. Miles upon miles of a rainforest of skyscrapers. The center of the city contains the oldest of these, dating back over a hundred years.
As you reach the outskirts of the city, you reach an even larger expanse of land. Suburban settlements, all still a part of Voxis. A massive network of communities. Humans and Monsters alike occupy this city.
Mt. Ebott once sat nearby, now having caved in, leaving very little behind after the volcanic eruption.

In one of the suburban homes was the girl famed with having saved all of monsterkind. She was known far and wide. Once the human ambassador for the monsters, until the monster king took that role after the integration process, which was still an on-going project.

This girl's name was Frisk.
She sat at a wooden desk in her room, papers, books and writing utensils scattered across its surface, most stuff stacked out of the way. In front of her sat a paper that she was writing on, scribbling fast, the smell of bacon drifting up from the kitchen.

The room was fairly sized, walls painted a fair royal blue. All except the far wall in her room, which was a mess of colors, painted by a close friend of hers. A skeleton monster named Papyrus, who had used just about every color he possibly could to represent all of his and Frisk's friends. Due to the main coloration of the room, Papyrus assumed that Frisk had the most admiration for Undyne, which he respected and agreed with. The majority of the wall he'd painted, which Frisk commonly referred to as the "Papwall", was colored in orange, the color Papyrus associated with himself. When she asked why it wasn't red, as it was his favorite color, he informed her that he had given the rights of that color to Asgore.

A twin-sized bed sat in her room, head against the papwall, horizontal with the room. The floor was a comfortable light brown carpet, the ceiling a smooth white. Her light had four bulbs below a spinning fan that Toriel claimed "collected more dust than Gerson on a morning jog".
A dresser was located nearby, four drawers. The top drawer held her undergarments. Underwear, socks, and the more recent addition of bras. She typically preferred to wear sports bras. Any other than that made her uncomfortable.
The second drawer held her shirts. A various arrangement of different colors. Only a couple years ago, the only shirts that had filled that drawer were blue sweaters with purple stripes.
The third drawer held various pants, skirts, and shorts. Almost all were jeans, or similar to the material.
The bottomost drawer contained pajamas and dress clothes, including a blue dress she wore to school dances. It was beginning to get a little too small on her, so she doubted she'd get to wear it to prom a couple years from now.

Her walls were lined with various pictures, most of which were group pictures of her and the other monsters. One wall was decorated with a shot of her and Mettaton together, which the singing sensation had taken to having one selfie with Frisk framed every month. It was actually a pretty decent way of seeing Frisk age over the last three years.
She'd changed a lot.

When she had led the monsters out of the underground for the last time, she had been much shorter, more yellow-skinned, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and slanted eyes. So slanted it was actually difficult for most to see her actual eyes, which were a rare scarlet in color.
Her nose had been small and pointy, and she'd been somewhat chubby.

Now, three years later, she'd changed a lot. She had grown nearly a foot taller, her hair now long and flowing, down to the middle of her back. Her eyes remained as slanted as ever, but her skin had lightened with time, getting more pale. Her nose had grown longer, but was still fairly pointy. She'd thinned out with her height, and her chest had begun to pop more, much to her embarrassment, even after Toriel had sat her down and had the "talk" with her. Apparently she was late on "blooming", as her mother put it.
As she sat at her desk, she wore a pair of jean shorts, knee-high white socks with black tennis shoes, and a dark red t-shirt with a picture of spaghetti on the front, courtesy of Papyrus.

As she wrote, she muttered the words out loud as they were put down, trying to go as quickly as she could.

"A lot has happened since I fell underground. I made friends, discovered myself, and found a family. Then I saved them all. Today, we all live on the surface. Together. Happy. No more struggle. The people I love and care about are flourishing in ways I couldn't even predict. I'm so proud of each and every one of them."

She paused, lifting her pen off the paper, furrowing her dark eyebrows as she scanned the last paragraph. This was a worksheet for English II that she'd been procrastinating on for some time, but it was due today and she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Frisk, my child! Breakfast!"
"Coming, mom!" Frisk yelled back to the sweet voice calling kindly up to her. This worksheet would have to do. It was supposed to be a self-reflection and an autobiography altogether. She was nervous about turning it in, hence her procrastination. Each student would have to read their story out loud in front of the class, and while she didn't have an issue with doing that, she wasn't comfortable with sharing her life story, so she'd been as brief and simple as she possibly could.

Quickly, she folded the paper haphazardly and grabbed the strap of her black backpack, pulling it up to her desk and unzipping the front, shoving in the paper, and zipping it closed.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, and dashed out of the room. She was gone for nearly a full second before she dashed back in and grabbed her pen off her desk, then ran back out, closing the door behind her.

Frisk's room led into a hallway where there were two other doors and a set of stairs down. The door across from Frisk's room led to the upstairs bathroom. The last door was near the head of the stairs, and led into Toriel's room.
Down the stairs was the first floor, where there was the kitchen/dining room, the living room, the laundry room, pantry, two closets, another bathroom, and a guest room. They also had a basement, but the entrance was outside.
Frisk raced into the kitchen, coming to a quick stop near the dining table. There were three other individuals in the kitchen when she came in. Her adopted mother Toriel stood at the stove, humming as she finished up breakfast. A classic combination of fried bacon, scrambled eggs smothered in cheese, jellied toast, and a refreshing glass of cold orange juice.
She wore a blouse tucked into her waist, beneath a long skirt, both purple in color. A pair of smart folk glasses sat on her face.

At the front door stood Papyrus, rattling his bones in anticipation, his face screwed up in concentration, pacing back and forth in front of the exit, stroking his chin thoughtfully, muttering slogans to himself, like "Paready Papasta" and "You can't spell pasta without several letters from Papyrus".
He used to wear what was referred to as his "battle body", but now spent most of his time dressed like a chef. This was one of those times.

At the dining table sat Papyrus' older, but shorter brother, Sans. He leaned against the back of his chair, arms resting behind his head, eyes closed, a grin ever-present on his face.
He was the one monster who never seemed to physically change. He still wore his ketchup-stained white t-shirt beneath his moth-eaten jacket. Black gym shorts with white singular stripes going up horizontally. White socks, and a pair of pink, fluffy slippers. The only changes he'd made was wearing a newer, cleaner pair of socks, as Papyrus had gone on a purge just a few months ago, ridding the entire house of all of Sans' socks. Sans had simply bought more and carefully placed then where his old socks had once sat. Papyrus gave up at that point. The other change was his color of jacket. It was now a deep scarlet, hand-picked by Papyrus because 'the old one smelled too much like moldy tomato stew'. The old jacket was long gone by now, but Papyrus had chosen the color so the two of them would be matching- up until Papyrus stopped wearing his battle body.

The moment Frisk entered, Sans had clearly made a joke, as Toriel interrupted her soft humming with a pleasant chuckle. "Oho, Sans."
She then shifted her gaze to Frisk. "Oh, Frisk dear! Your breakfast is almost finished. It's your favorite, my child. Happy birthday."

That explained why breakfast smelled better than usual this morning. Frisk had honestly almost forgotten... she turned 16 today...
For some reason, it didn't feel special. She didn't feel... different.

"hope you enjoy the anniversary of your conception, kiddo. only get it once a year." Sans grinned at her from the table, opening his right eye to look at her. "YES! THAT IS PERFECT, SANS!" Papyrus gasped, excitement lighting up his face, before grandiosely presenting his arms in the air. "PAPASTA ANNIVERSARY SALE!"
"you made papasta four months ago. still got another eight to go 'till the anniversary."

Papyrus frowned, excitement fading from his eyes as Toriel carried a plate of steaming, wonderful breakfast to Frisk as the teen put her bag down on the floor and sat down beside Sans.
"DARN. WELL, ANYWAY, HELLO HUMAN! I SEE YOU'RE DELECTABLY DECKED OUT WITH YOUR DELICIOUS DELIGHTS!"

"Thanks guys." Frisk replied awkwardly. She never liked her birthdays much, anyway. The attention just wasn't very appealing. She didn't like special attention, regardless of the reason. Sans gave her a light shrug. "don't sweat it, kid. least we can do for you after everything. funny how your birthday seems to land on the same day every year, huh?”
“THAT IS INDEED ODD.” Papyrus agreed. “THERE’S SOME ODD, CONFUSING PATTERN GOING ON THERE. DON’T FEEL BAD FOR NOT UNDERSTANDING IT, SANS. I DON’T EITHER.”

With that, Frisk dug into her breakfast. Sure, it burnt her tongue, but the amazing taste of Toriel's fried bacon exploded her mouth with wonderful flavors. She wasn't even a quarter of the way finished when Toriel suddenly gasped. "Oh my, it's getting late! Frisk, hurry up, dear. You don't want to be late for school."
"aw, come on, tori. it's her birthday. so what if she's a little after the bell? i can sign her in." Sans offered, patting Frisk on the shoulder as she gave her mother the cutest, most innocent face she could muster with bulging cheeks full of bacon.

Toriel narrowed her eyes at Sans, then Frisk, before smiling. "Oh, well... okay, then. Just don't take too long, alright?"

"got my internal alarm set for eight o'clock, your majesty." Sans winked in reply. Toriel smirked at that, and Frisk could tell what was coming.
Sans and Toriel had made a habit of tossing jokes and puns and occasional fake insults at each other when in the same room as each other. It was adorably sickening.

"Please, Sans. Just call me Toriel. I am no longer the queen." Toriel replied, and the short skeleton's grin widened. "maybe not out there, but this castle is ruled by you."
"A castle needs a king and a queen, Sans. Any suggestions for my betrothed?"

At this, Sans blushed. Or at least the skeleton equivalent. A shade of blue befell his face. "oh... um... i... no... not really..."

It seemed Toriel had won this round.

"Well, I have some rather crucial appointments to attend to that I'd rather not miss, so I shall take my leave." She sighed, resting the dishes in the sink and running cold water over them.

"Bye, mom!" Frisk tried to call through a mouthful of cheesy scrambled eggs. Papyrus whipped a box out from behind him. Where he stored it, nobody was sure, and frankly, nobody wanted to know. "TAKE A BOX OF PAPASTA FOR YOUR DAY, LADY ASGORE! NOW ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OFF FOR ITS ANNIVERSARY SALE!"

Papasta noodles were certainly not bad, but they were funded by Mettaton, who'd grown sweet on Sans' younger brother. Sweet enough to help Papyrus make his own brand of noodles, and even get a television program in the making called "Skelechef". Needless to say, Papyrus had his celebrity work cut out for him. Sans was worried over this, even if he didn't let anyone know that. He was worried that Papyrus would be fouled in some way, and wasn't eager to pick up the pieces.
The Papasta mascot was, if you could believe it, Papyrus himself. His grinning face cartoonishly drawn on the front wearing a chef's hat, disembodied gloved hands holding up a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, the box itself an orange color. The noodles inside were multicolored, as Papyrus had been intrigued and joyous over colored pasta when he'd discovered it at Flormart.

"Oh. Thank you, Papyrus." Toriel smiled kindly, gently taking the box from him, and moving toward a cabinet.
"I'll put it with the others." Upon opening the cabinet, they could see stacks of other Papasta boxes inside. It was a tight fit, but the new box made it in, and she closed the cabinet. Papyrus beamed at her.

With that, Toriel began making her way for the door. "hey." Sans called to her. "break a leg."
She smiled. "'Tibia' continued, Sans."

"'femur' puns like that and i'll-"
"Do what? I'm the queen of this castle, Sans." She gave the skeleton a sly grin, and he blushed again. "Have a wonderful day. I might be home late, Frisk. You're free to stay over at Sans and Papyrus'. I love you, my child." Toriel blew a kiss at Frisk, who swallowed down her last bit of toast. "Love you too, mom." She blew the kiss back, flakes of crust blowing from her lips.

"I ALSO LOVE YOU, MOM!" Papyrus agreed gleefully as Sans gave Toriel a last wink. "see ya."
And with that, Toriel was gone. There were a few moments of silence as Frisk finished up her bacon, and returned to her eggs, which there were still a lot of, and she was beginning to get full.

"so, kid. how'd those pig bits taste?"
"Really good!" Frisk smiled as Sans leaned back in his seat again. "don't tell porkly that."
"SPLENDID! I HELPED MAKE THEM!" Papyrus beamed happily, placing a hand importantly on his chest. "Oh..." Frisk gulped. "Did you add pasta?"

Papyrus' jaw almost dropped as his eyes widened in disbelief. There were a few moments of silence as Sans and Frisk stared at Papyrus, who eventually found his voice.
"...I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THAT."

Frisk watched sadly as the rest of her eggs were smothered in a rain of multicolored pasta noodles, some of which were shaped like poorly formed Papyrus heads.

------

There were many familiar landmarks Frisk witnessed during the ride from her home to school. First was Aaron’s Crossfit Flexing, though the monster mostly liked to flex in front of anybody who walked through the door. Surprisingly enough, business actually did fairly well for him.

Then there was Dreamhope Elementary, Toriel’s workplace. Frisk took notice that Toriel’s car wasn’t parked outside, but didn’t think much of it. Perhaps her adopted mother had decided to go to the store and pick something up.

Next, came a McOswald’s. Sure, Voxis had many, but this one was different because of one of the employees, the depressed and sometimes exuberant Burgerpants. Nobody was actually sure if that was his real name or not, but the monster tended to avoid the topic of his name with desperate fervor.

Then there was Catty and Bratty’s Beauty Salon. Originally they’d started their business at a landfill just outside of town, but when Mettaton took notice of their work, they’d been given employment under him and were actually quite successful. That didn’t stop them from dumpster diving still, however.

After that was Asgore’s. It wasn’t too different from Toriel’s house. Despite their ruined relationship, the both of them had shared tastes in just about everything. That was when they moved past the residential area and began making their way into the heart of the city.


The first thing they passed was the Monster Integration Office, something run by Asgore after he’d taken over Frisk’s ambassador duties. Originally, the integration program was met with a lot of resistance, but over time, it became accepted. Its job was to find monsters jobs, homes, and a safe place to go.

Then there was Obatech Industries, a massive office building run by the richest and most powerful man in the city, Jonathan Obaseki, who also happened to be Asgore’s boss.

After that, they turned a corner, passing by the police station where Undyne worked at. Unfortunately, Undyne couldn’t get much higher in the ranks due to a supposedly racist boss. She was easily his best cop, but who she was seemed to affect his decision of a promotion. Asgore was working himself into office, one of the acts he planned to pass was the Monster Integration Act, which disallowed employer interests from treating monster employees any differently from human employees. It wouldn’t fix all their problems, but it’d be a start.

Then there was Voxis Middle School, which Frisk had attended for a couple of years before graduating to High School. There, she’d met her two closest human friends. Terrence Anoma and Gregory Favian.


Terrence had been and still was the ‘popular’ kid. He was both charming and handsome, not to mention easy to get along with and mature. It was no surprise when he’d asked Frisk out back in Freshman year. Frisk, of course, said yes. The relationship didn’t last long, the two deciding to remain as friends and possibly try again another time. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t maintain feelings for him.

Gregory was always the shy, quiet kid who stuck himself in the back corner of class, got his work done before anybody else even knew what they were doing, and placed his nose in a good book for the remainder of the block. He’d come out of his shell a lot more since he’d become friends with Frisk and Terrence, but sometimes felt third-wheeled around them, especially when they started dating. He’s always had a very low self-esteem, and despite their close friendship, adamantly believes he doesn’t deserve friends like them.


Next to pass was Muffet’s. That was what it was called. The spider monster had been inspired by the homey simplicity of Grillby’s that she opted to copy the style with her own. Sure, her meals were a bit pricey. While she had learned to lower her prices, Muffet’s was still the most expensive place to eat in all of Voxis. That didn’t go without saying that her meals were very high in quality. She and her spiders could cook basically anything you wanted, and fast, too. Service was exceptionally good, as well. In the end, a $100 meal was sometimes worth it. Sometimes. Frisk, fortunately, got discounts and sometimes free meals due to her friendship with Muffet.

Grillby’s was the next place they passed, and it was certainly much cheaper. It wasn’t quite as high quality as Muffet’s, but it was homey and welcoming. Grillby had his daughter, Fuku, working for him part-time while she started her senior year at Voxis High. He hoped to be able to retire eventually, and for her to take over his business, but his daughter had different dreams. Ironically, she wanted to become a Marine Biologist. Sans remained his best customer.


Finally, after rounding another block, they were near the heart of Voxis City. City Hall could be distantly seen as Sans pulled up to the drop-off lane in front of the school. The girl climbed off the back, adjusting her backpack before looking back at Sans, who grinned dolefully at her. “school’s waitin’, kiddo.” He told her. “have a good day.”

“You too, Sans.” She replied with a smile, before turning and making her way into the building, and made a beeline for Marine Biology. That was her first class of the day, which she was lucky enough to have with Greg. He was pretty nerdy, but not in a cliche way… maybe, but he still managed to make the otherwise boring class bearable. Frisk loved marine life, but learning about seven kinds of plankton and algae? Bleh.


She entered the classroom to find most of her peers were already seated inside, waiting for class to start, either chatting with their friends and waiting patiently, some on their phones, others trying to catch up on the homework they’d procrastinated on. Mr. Gagne, their teacher, was seated at the head of the class behind his desk, taking silent attendance, glancing up at Frisk before marking her down. He was a tall, scrawny, dorky-looking man in his mid-thirties with a bushy beard and thick round glasses that magnified his beady eyes tenfold it seemed.

As per usual, Gregory was stationed in the corner of the room, a pencil tucked over his ear as he stared expectantly at Mr. Gagne through his own pair of glasses, which were rectangular and nowhere near as thick. Greg had a thin face and body, not that different to their teacher, with medium-length jet black hair that was brushed as well as it could be, though remained extremely untidy. The most interesting part of Gregory’s appearance were his eyes. Big and violet, with a steely gaze to them. Before him sat a blank sheet of paper, no doubt ready for him to start copying down Mr. Gagne’s lesson word-for-word. When Greg caught sight of Frisk as she took the seat beside him, he grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hey.” She greeted, getting settled in.


“Hi Frisk.” He returned just as the bell rang and Mr. Gagne sprang up with the usual monotone; “Good morning, class” to which only about three people replied, including Frisk and Gregory. Gagne placed a piece of paper in his projector, which was displayed on the board. He shifted it to be angled perfectly in contrast to its smartboard background. The paper read; ‘Write down one type of plankton and describe what it does. Be prepared to share your answer’. Greg was the first to move, sliding his pencil out from over his ear and beginning to write rapidly in miniscule writing Frisk doubted anybody but he could discern.

She decided to write about phytoplankton, or what she could remember of it. Frisk hadn’t even written her first three words when Greg set his pencil down, a full paragraph written out on his paper. First to begin work, first to finish. This was the way of Greg and it may never change.


Eventually, Mr. Gagne cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention as he held one of those shiny red sticks with a pointer at the end that every teacher with a smartboard loved. “Alright class, would someone like to read their answers?” He asked, his voice cracking as he said it, leaving him to clear his throat once again. Greg’s hand was in the air before Mr. Gagne had even finished speaking. A few other hands raised, but with much less enthusiasm. There was never any real point to raise a hand in class when you share it with the one named Gregory Favian.

Mr. Gagne chuckled, but it sounded nervous, as though he were scared. “Frisk, how about you?” He asked, before chuckling again and waving his hand dismissively. “Kidding, kidding… Greg, impress me.”
Frisk found this a little rude and unnecessary, but didn’t indulge it. Mr. Gagne was one of those teachers that thought he was funny and chill when he did things like that, but mostly came off as rude and a little dismissive to the students. Come to think of it, that describes a lot of teachers.


"Phytoplankton, also known as microalgae, are similar to terrestrial plants in that they contain chlorophyll and require sunlight in order to live and grow. Most phytoplankton are buoyant and float in the upper part of the ocean, where sunlight penetrates the water. Phytoplankton also require inorganic nutrients such as nitrates, phosphates, and sulfur which they convert into proteins, fats, and carbohydrates." Greg stated in a single breath, to which somebody at the front of the room groaned and laid their head down on their table.

“I don’t think we’ve even gotten that far in the textbook. You must have read ahead. Well done, as usual, Greg,” Mr. Gagne nodded. “Anybody else?” His voice cracked again.

A kid raised his hand.

“Tyler.”

“Phytoplankton, also- uh... microalgae... it needs sunlight...” Tyler faltered, failing to reword Greg’s answer.

Mr. Gagne seemed to stop listening to Tyler, turning away and marching toward the front of the classroom. Greg noticeably blushed. He loved being who he was, but he hated the attention he got, and always felt bad when he made others look less than he. “Poor Tyler...” Frisk shook her head. It wasn’t Greg’s fault or anything- but he didn’t even really leave much room for anyone else to look smart, so a lot of people usually tried to piggyback off of his brains, but... well, it didn’t turn out too well.


Greg glanced over at Frisk, still red in the face. "Um, hey Frisk." He greeted, more awkwardly than before. "Terrence wanted me to tell you to meet him behind the school during lunch. I uh... only just remembered."

Frisk raised an eyebrow, confused. Terrence rarely spent any time during lunch doing anything but food fights.

“Thanks for telling me,” she gave him a nod, before, just like nearly every other student in the classroom, her eyes drifted to the clock. She then looked back at Greg. “Hey, when does this class get out, again?” she asked in a hushed tone.

"Same time as every day." Greg replied, beginning to write something down on his paper. Frisk simply stared at him, which he was quick to notice.

"Er- 8:55." He added, pursing his lips.

“Thank you,” she nodded, before Mr. Gagne’s voice filled the room.

“Now, today we’re going to be learning about oxygen levels in the atmosphere, and how much of the oxygen is produced by plankton...”

He droned on and on, continuing even after he told the students what their assignment was and not allowing them to start until he finished. Greg was the only one who seemed capable of paying attention.


Frisk had an itch. Something she'd been wanting to tell Greg ever since she'd walked into that room and seen him.

As Mr. Gagne turned away, Frisk directed her attention to Greg. "I saw… it… again." She whispered.

Immediately, Greg paled. "Again? You sure?"

“I’m pretty sure... unless it was a different stalker thing, maybe?”

Greg paled even more. “U-Um... well, you could do what Terrence suggested and set up a video camera, or something...”

Frisk shook her head. “Mom would be suspicious if I did. And if I did do that, I’m worried I’ll see something on video that I’d rather not.”

"I still think you should tell her." Greg advised. Frisk bit her cheek. She'd thought about it for a while. Letting Toriel know about this felt like it was the right thing to do, but for some reason... Frisk couldn't convince herself to do it.

"I will." She replied. "Soon."

"Did it do anything?"

"No." Frisk shook her head. "Same as always. Just... stood there. Watching." She paused. "But... I think it wasn't staring through the kitchen window this time."

Greg gulped, staring at Frisk as she continued. "It looked almost like it was staring back at me this time..."

“Frisk... you could be in some serious danger here, one of these days he might try and get into the house, or-“

“Gregory,” Mr. Gagne’s voice interrupted. “Is it something you would like to share with the rest of the class?”

“No,” Greg replied instinctively.

“Now, if you will, class, please do as I instructed. And the only thing I want to hear until the bell is pencils touching papers.”

"Lunch. Behind the school." Greg muttered to Frisk. "We'll talk more about it then."

"Oh, and Mr. Favian." Gagne called to Greg, who looked up. "Stay after class, will you? There's something I need to talk to you about."

“Oh great...” Greg sighed, before turning and beginning his assignment while most of the other students discreetly tapped at their phones or played table football.

------

A dirty blonde, shaggy haired boy stood behind the school, leaned up against a wall. He was slightly taller than the average sixteen year old, and had a good build. He was desperately trying to rub away a lipstick mark on his arm, but to little avail, before he decided to give up and concealed it with his sleeve. He was standing a few meters away from the double doors into the cafeteria, which were pushed open by his two best friends; Frisk Dreemurr and Gregory Favian.
"We haven't hung out here since the middle of last year." Greg commented, his eyes clearly showing he was beginning to reminisce about their freshman year.
Terrence Anoma grinned widely, looking from Greg, to Frisk, before his grin widened even more.
“There’s the birthday girl,” Terrence said, winking. “The big one-six, Frisk, how’s it feel?”
Greg’s face flushed. “That was today...?” he looked ashamed and embarrassed at the same time.
Frisk awkwardly chuckled. "Uh... fine. I guess." She usually wasn't much of a shy person, anyone knew that. However, she always did get shy when receiving direct compliments or congratulations of the sort for reasons nobody really knew why. Frisk herself didn't wasn’t even sure. That’s just how it was.

“Trust me, Frisk, this is a whole new chapter for you. You know, driving, independence, uh... driving. Yeah, mostly driving.”
“So... why did we come out back here?” Greg wondered.
“Because I can’t wish anyone happy birthday with a crowd,” Terrence rolled his eyes, gesturing to the door.
Greg bit his cheek as he looked through the door's windows, watching a group of pretty girls at a nearby lunch table glance repeatedly at Terrence.
"Well, let's stay out here for a little longer." Frisk said. "I have an update about the... about the… it. A thing about the thing."
“Oh, geez,you mean the thing?” Terrence’s friendly attitude seemed to sink into a worried one. “What happened?”
“The same as usual,” Frisk said, “but I think it was staring through my window this time.”
Terrence sighed. “You gotta be kidding... like, directly at you?”
“Yes.”
“When did they leave?”
“I don’t know.”
Terrence bit lip. “You gotta tell Toriel. Or call the police.”

"I know, I know..." Frisk sighed. "It's just... I don't know. For some reason, my heart is telling me not to. Like somehow, that by not telling my mom, I'm saving her from something."
"If you don't, we'll come over to your place." Greg stated. "She needs to know. We want to help, but you need to let an adult know about this guy."
“Come on, Frisk, think about this logically. Creepy stalker man outside your house. If you tell Toriel, the chances of that man going away increase, because she’ll either A) have him arrested, or B) kick the shit out of him, because your mom is really cool. Not telling her is like inviting this guy to keep coming back, you know?”

Frisk folded her arms. "I know. I know all of that. I know what I'm supposed to do. I know what I want to do... but I have... trouble."
"Then we'll come over to help you." Greg offered.
“Yeah, as cheesy as it sounds, we’re your friends. And friends don’t let their friends lose sleep and get creeped out by stalkers all the time, you know?” Terrence smiled. The girl chuckled. "Yeah." She looked toward Greg, then back at Terrence. "Thanks. I'll tell her tonight, then. Or as soon as I can. Right now, though, I'm hungry."
“Wanna eat some garbage cafeteria food, or go down to Grillby’s and get some good stuff?” Terrence asked, looking smug as he stated the obvious choice. He’d become a Grillby’s addict ever since he’d been introduced to Sans.
“Grillby’s,” Frisk said without skipping a beat.
"If we can make it back in time." Greg said, rubbing his thumb nervously. "You remember what happened the least time we went, right?"
“Ah, come on, do you want this girl to eat cold, wet tater tots on her birthday, Greg?” Terrence asked charismatically. “My treat. What do you say?”
Greg pursed his lips. “...Fine. But you’d better hope your time management has improved.”

------

"Thanks Grillbs." Frisk smiled at the fire monster, who gave her a courteous nod of his head, and walked away from their table, swishing a rag in a shot glass, a service dish tucked under his armpit.
He'd just delivered the three shakes they'd ordered. Frisk had a classic chocolate with chocolate-flavored whipped cream, Greg had mint cookie with classic whipped cream, and Terrence’s shake was also chocolate, but with extra sprinkles and no whipped cream, because he often claimed the cream ‘got in the way’ of enjoying the shake.
“Wow, he gave you a nod? Last time I tried to call him Grillbs, all I got was a cold stare... or a hot stare, maybe.” Terrence shrugged.
"I've told you a million times." Frisk giggled. "He respects me. The only other people I've ever seen Grillby give a crap about has been Sans and his daughter, Fuku.”
There was the sound of a short choke, then a wet splatter, and Greg rose his face up from his shake, mouth covered in cream as he coughed. "Grillby has a daughter?"
"Yes. Do you guys never pay attention?" Frisk blinked. Greg gulped, grabbing a napkin and wiping the shake's contents from his face. "We do! It's just... distracting in here." He shrugged, glancing about. "So many different people and monsters. They all have so many interesting things to say."
"So... you eavesdrop all the time?" Terrence smirked. Greg only shrugged. "It's easy. Nobody notices me anyway, I can get away with it."

“Speaking of Grillby’s daughter, isn’t she the green fire-lady with the, uh... uh... someone, someone help me out, I’m drawing a blank,” Terrence said, snapping his fingers as though that would help him gain a better train of thought.
“Her name is Fuku,” Frisk informed them. “She goes to our school. How do you guys not know her?”
“Well, is she in our grade?” Terrence asked, taking a sip of his shake. Frisk shook her head.
“No. She’s a year ahead of us, I think... wait, Greg, how often do you eavesdrop on people? Do you eavesdrop on us, too?” Frisk looked curious.
"Sometimes. I try not to with you guys, though. Since..." He paused as Frisk frowned at him. "I uh... respect you guys. More than other people... Why?"

“Just wondering,” Frisk shrugged, taking a sip of her milkshake.
“We have twenty-five minutes left for lunch,” Greg informed them, eyes glued to a watch on his arm. “It’s about an eight minute walk back, so-“
“Relax, we’ll be alright. And even if we’re not, it’s not the end of the world,” Terrence said, seeming unbothered. “We have plenty of time.”
"Not the end of the world for you, you mean." Greg sighed. "I have a perfect attendance, and-"
"Relax." Frisk repeated Terrence's advice. Greg pursed his lips, then sighed and took a sip of his milkshake. "Alright." He submitted.
“Listen, think about it this way, if it’s an eight minute walk back,” Terrence said, leaning back. “We have twenty five minutes total, that means we have seventeen minutes to get out of here. Grillby doesn’t usually dawdle, so we’ll get our food, eat, and leave, and then get back for some boring lectures with time to spare. See, I’m a bit of a mathematician.”
"I know all that." Gregory huffed. "Last time you said all of that, though, you made us stop at the mall because you claimed there was something you wanted at Hot Topic." He paused as Frisk snickered in remembrance of it before Greg continued.
"It wasn't even there."

“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know that that magazine was from 2012? Besides, if it had been there, it would have been great. But apparently they don’t make them anymore.”
"Yeah, sure. Then-"
Greg was cut off as Terrence rose up in his seat, grinning. "Guys, let's go to the mall!"
"What!?" Greg paled. Terrence placed his hands on his hips. "It's Frisk’s birthday. Let's get her something special."
“You’re joking!” Greg said, eyes as wide as saucers.
“Joking? Why would I be joking?” Terrence looked genuinely confused. “Come on, we should get her something, and what better place than the mall?”
“Why can’t we just do it after school?” Greg questioned, looking uneasy.
This time, it was Terrence’s turn to pale. He scratched the back of his head. “I, uh, don’t actually have time after school, until like, seven thirty.”
"Neither do I." Frisk added. Gregory appeared extremely conflicted, biting his cheek and looking between the two individuals, unsure. “Okay... okay, but... I need to be back in class on-time.”
“If we go, we will definitely be late,” Terrence shrugged, leaning back. “I think it’s a small price to pay.” Greg winced, slumping in his seat as he began to ponder his options. "Um..." Gregory bit his lip. "I... I don't know..."
“Come on, you can afford to miss one class. Besides, if we have a good enough excuse, they won’t mark you late or absent,” Terrence said as Grillby approached with a tray of food.

"I... really can't..." He got his lip. Frisk let out a sigh and shrugged. "Then it's okay." She stated. "We can go some other time."
Terrence looked annoyed, but he also wasn’t willing to start a full-blown argument right now, so he dropped it. Grillby began to set the plates of food down.
Greg appeared relieved as Frisk was quick to dig into her meal. Before he began to eat, Greg awkwardly stated; "Sorry guys. I just... I really can't."
“And... why not, exactly?” Terrence asked, raising an eyebrow as he ate a fry. "...I um..." He took a bite out of his burger. "Can't miss anything." He chewed lightly, then slowly swallowed. "Anything."
“Whatev,” Terrence sighed, taking a bite of his pasta, which was noticeably shaped like a certain skeleton’s face... sort of.
Greg seemed to shrink into his seat as he ate silently. Frisk shook her head. Her two best friends hadn't even known each other until they'd become friends with her. They were just so very different, and so were their motives.

Frisk knew that Greg felt strongly about academics and knowledge. He was devoted to his grades, attendance, and anything else of the sort. Not to mention, he had a rather poor home life. Terrence on the other hand, was popular, a magnet for attention, and wasn’t very careful about his grades, but as for his home life, he’d never really told Frisk much about that aside from ‘complicated’.
They finished their meal in awkward silence. It was unfortunate, but not unknown. Terrence and Greg butted heads a lot, despite the fact that Greg was as shy as they came.

They made their way back to school in silence as well, and when reaching the building, Greg quietly departed from the group to go to his class while Frisk and Terrence remained together, their next class being Algebra II.
“Man, Mr. Kay’s gonna hand it to me today,” Terrence said as they stood outside the classroom door. “I didn’t do my homework.”
“What’s going on? You haven’t done your homework all week,” Frisk asked. “Usually, you at least get it half-done.”
“Busy week, is all,” Terrence replied, but he was a terrible liar.
"Right. Totally busy. Lounging at pools, wandering the streets. Homework is supposed to be at home. You never get it done because you're never home." Frisk stated matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, well,” Terrence looked away. “I don’t really like it there, is all,” he said as they neared the classroom door. Mr. Kay was standing outside, checking off student’s names on the attendance sheet as they entered the room.

"You've never said why." Frisk replied as they got in line. "I'm your best friend, Terrence. You may not want it, but I care for you more than just inside this school building."
“I get that, you know I get that. But seriously, my problems are trivial. You don’t have to worry about me, if I had something really bad going on, you’d be the first to know.”
That much was true. His situation at home wasn’t ideal, but it was too familiar for him to consider it very bad. He was... used to it.
Frisk gave Terrence a long stare, before turning away from him as they neared the front of the line. "Nothing is too trivial. I know you'll tell me when you're ready." She shrugged.
Terrence bit the inside of his cheek, but didn’t reply as they were both granted entry by Mr. Kay., a seedy old man who took his class very seriously. He was generally a friendly teacher, nonetheless.
 
Frisk, Greg, and Terrence. It had become widely known throughout the school that you could only say these three names in a single breath. They were the strangest but certainly not the worst group of friends. Despite the obvious differences between them, they were still as close as could be.

Just like every school day for the last two years, the three walked out of the front of the school building side-by-side. During their first year together, Greg was always the one to split from the group first so as to greet his father and get a ride home at the front entrance. Then the divorce happened, and he started taking the bus with Frisk and Terrence. It wasn't until this year that Toriel had begun taking it upon herself to personally transport Frisk to school and back every single day, but looking out upon the car line, it became obvious the ex-queen wasn't around.
Though someone else did stick out like a sore thumb on his blue scooter, grinning lazily at Frisk.

"Looks like Sans is my ride today." Frisk commented to her two friends.
“I thought he had a bike,” Terrence said, looking at the scooter. “Guess he upgraded. Anyways, see you later, Frisk, happy birthday,” Terrence bid her farewell, giving her a wave as he headed off toward the school bus.
“Bye,” Greg told her, giving her a brief smile as he followed Terrence. Frisk waved at them as they left, before she approached Sans.
“hey kiddo,” the grinning skeleton greeted. “how was school?”
"Long and busy." She shrugged as she climbed on behind him. "Like usual."
"heard you hung at grillby's for lunch." Sans chuckled as he started up the scooter.
"Yeah. Perks of having a birthday and friends, I guess. Just out of curiosity, how did you know?” Frisk asked.
“simple. see, i went to grillby’s. while i was there, i was talking to grillby. he said ‘by the way, frisk and her friends were here earlier.’”
“What did you say?”
“i forgot,” Sans said, grin widening as the scooter took off. It was slow, but enjoyable enough.

The wind softly lashed against her hair, which flowed out behind her. Frisk's hair was an item of particular pride she held for herself. She took good care of it and felt beautiful having it.
"so... tori ain't home yet."
"I know."
"wanna stay at the house with pap and i 'till she comes back?" Sans asked. The human bit her cheek, thinking about it for a moment. Deciding to let her disappointment control her, Frisk shook her head. "Nah. I think I'll just head home. I'm actually pretty tired."

For a month now, Toriel had been doing this. Disappearing early in the morning and not showing up until late at night. Frisk was worried about her, but upon prying for answers, Toriel was abundantly clear she wasn't breaking.
So Frisk had angrily allowed her adopted mother to keep her secrets. She had just hoped that Toriel would put aside whatever her personal project was and give Frisk the attention she needed on her birthday.
“well, i’m all for resting up, kiddo, but just remember to wake up in time for your party. not much point in having a party for the birthday girl if she doesn’t show up.”
“Have you ever slept through a birthday party?” Frisk asked him as he took a sharp turn- or, what would have been a sharp turn in just about any other vehicle.
“yeah. but i still show up,” Sans replied. “just wait till you see the presents pap and i got you. and he didn’t even get you pasta, so you know he put a lot of thought into it. isn’t my bro cool?”
Frisk smiled warmly at the familiar question. "The coolest." She replied as her house came into sight. "the coolestest." Sans chuckled, pulling into the driveway and coming to a stop. As expected, Toriel's car was missing.

“oh well. i’m sure she’ll be back in time for your celebration,” Sans assured her as she hopped off the scooter. She was admittedly disappointed, as she’d hoped to spend a little extra time with Toriel today.
"Yeah... see ya, Sans." She waved to the skeleton as he gave her his classic wink in return and backed out of the driveway. Frisk turned and made her way into the house.
She was quick to notice a small pile of letters on the table that hadn't been there that morning. Clearly Toriel had been home at some point.

Birthday cards were presumably inside. Cards from (in order from top to bottom) Papyrus, Sans, Mettaton, Asgore, Papyrus, Toriel, Muffet, Papyrus, Grillby, Terrence, Papyrus, Gregory, Undyne, Papyrus, Alphys, Papyrus, Gerson, and Papyrus.
Frisk quickly found herself eager to open them up, but restrained herself, knowing that everyone would want to watch her open them. Especially Papyrus, considering he’d given her seven of them.
Frisk headed into the kitchen, and saw that the pans full of egg scraps and bacon grease still lingered on the stovetop, the dishes done that morning apparently from dinner last night. She suddenly found herself very confused. Toriel usually made tidiness a top priority..
She brushed it off with a simple explanation. Toriel had just been in a rush, for whatever reason. A note sat on the fridge from the motherly monster for Frisk, who snatched it down and skimmed over it.

‘Dear Frisk,
There is a butterscotch cinnamon pie in the fridge just for you. Remember to clean up after yourself and blah blah blah…’

Frisk stopped paying attention to what she was reading after the 'clean up after yourself' part and wondered what Toriel could possibly be up to. There was no way an elementary job required this level of attention. Something deeper was happening here.
She realized she'd been re-reading the same line for the past minute over and over again. Annoyed, she crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash.
All she wanted was to sleep this day away now.
Frisk turned away from the trash bin that now held the discarded note. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this annoyed, or exhausted, or upset. It was easy to pretend she was enjoying her birthday, but all she could think about was Toriel. Toriel, her adoptive, loving mother, who seemed to actually be avoiding her.
Frisk made it up the stairs and into her bedroom. She didn’t even bother changing into her sleep attire, making her way straight to the bed. On it was another note, with ‘Frisk’ written at the top in Toriel’s graceful handwriting. The teenager stared at the note for a few seconds, and suddenly found her anger building. She wasn’t in the mood to read more notes from Toriel- she wanted to talk to her mom, not read whatever she’d had the time to write. Frisk grabbed the note, and without hesitation, crumpled it up and tossed it aside, before taking its place on the bed and letting sleep take over…

------

...

Before she knew it, she felt herself return to the world of the living. Her eyes felt strained, and it took her a second to realize she'd cried herself to sleep.
That small detail made her remember her anger and frustration of Toriel. After twelve years of being rejected by her family, she had found Toriel. The mom she'd always wanted. Why were they growing so distant so fast?

Slowly, she turned her head to the desk beside her bed, which her clock sat on. It read '7:02'.
Fifty-eight minutes until her friends would start arriving for the party at eight. A party she really wasn't in the mood for.
Looking back toward the far wall, she noticed the crumpled note on the floor, and felt a pang of guilt. Maybe Toriel had left her an answer to her questions on it. It wouldn't hurt to read it...

Frisk stared at the letter for a few seconds, before slowly sliding herself out of bed and walking over to the crumpled letter. She was still hesitant to read it, quite annoyed with the way her birthday was unfolding. Nonetheless, she picked it up and uncrumpled it, finding it was actually two notes stuck together. She unstuck them, and began to read.

‘Dear Frisk,
I am so sorry I've been acting the way I have been lately, but this has been very important. Not just to me, but for the sake of everyone. I believe my time is short, and I am sorry to cast my burden upon you. Under my bed is a loose floorboard. You'll know which one. Underneath is all of the evidence and files I've been gathering for the past month. I need you to take it to the police station. Straight to Undyne. This is bigger than any of us, but I can't do it myself. I'm being followed. Do this while they focus on me, my child. Please.
With love, Toriel’

Frisk could feel her chest and throat churning and tightening with emotion with each word she read. She shook her head in disbelief. This was a prank, right? But it wasn’t. Toriel would never pull a prank like this. The paranoia within Frisk took over, and she looked out the window to see a figure staring back at her in the moonlight.
It was the same as it had been every single night before. Tall, featureless, menacing, facing the house. Just like last night, it was staring up at her bedroom. Something was different this time, though. Normally it stood at the edge of the property. This time... it stood in the yard. Closer than ever before.
Fear gripped at Frisk's insides. She'd done so much in her past, accomplished so many impossible feats, but this... this was different. The world worked differently in the world of humans, it was far more… deadly. That was when she remembered the secret in Toriel's room.

Frisk couldn’t bear to look at the note again, instead moving away from the window and making her way out the door. Her heart was in her throat as she raced to Toriel’s bedroom, tears streaming down her face, and when she opened the door, she gasped.
The room was a mess. Papers everywhere. Her belongings were in piles on the floor, and quite frankly, it looked like nobody had bothered cleaning the place in weeks.
The bed was on its side, the mentioned floorboard strewn on the other side of the room. Frisk felt her stomach sink as she approached the hole it had left and peered inside to find that the hole was empty.
Someone else had already taken it.
Someone else had to have been in the house while she slept.
Knowing panic was on the verge of setting in, she knew she needed to call someone. The one person she knew would be the best help in this situation. The best help for her.
Asgore. She needed her adoptive father.

Frisk immediately left Toriel’s room, practically flying down the stairs, turning, and entering the kitchen. She picked up the phone- but to her horror, the wire had been cut. She had to force herself not to hyperventilate- this felt like a nightmare, like a horror movie come to life. But it wasn’t. She knew it was real.
Gritting her teeth, Frisk dropped to the floor, pressing her back against the wall just beneath the phone. She couldn't allow the panic to take over. She'd been in scary situations before, she just had to calm down and breathe...
In...
And out...
Frisk breathed for a moment longer, feeling her anxiety decrease ever so slightly. Enough for her to remember her cell phone. She rarely used it any more, but the thing was always ready for use, just under her pillow. She'd gotten in the habit of leaving it there during her relationship with Terrence when they would text each other late into the night.

Frisk raced back up the stairs and into her bedroom, looking out the window on her way to her bed. She saw that the figure was gone, and nearly had a heart attack. She took a deep breath- she’d be okay. She’d be okay. She needed to call Asgore. Frisk grabbed the phone from under her pillow, tapping the button on the bottom. The phone was dead.
Frisk grit her teeth, and dropped down onto her arms and knees to see the dusty, forgotten charger plugged into the wall practically under her bed. She stuck the end of the charger into her phone. It booted up slowly, and her impatience grew as she strained her ears, listening for any sound. Any peep.
Nothing. There wasn't a sound as her phone menu popped up and she immediately opened her contacts, seeing Asgore near the top of the list, just below Amber, an old friend of Frisk's. They had a falling out due to her relationship with Terrence, as Amber had feelings for him too.
She'd never deleted her contact though. Without hesitation, Frisk quickly pressed on Asgore's contact.

A variety of options appeared on the screen. ‘Call,’ ‘Text,’ ‘Rename,’ ‘Erase,’ ‘Clear Conversation,’ ‘Check Call History,’ and ‘Add to Group Text.’ Without hesitation,’ Frisk quickly jammed her thumb down on the ‘call’ button. It took her a moment to realize it hadn’t worked, and noticed that her screen was wet. She took a deep breath, wiping the tears off of her phone screen and holding it away from her face as she tapped ‘call’ again.
It began to ring.

It rang for a good ten seconds or so before Asgore's voice responded warmly to her call. A sound she felt so relieved to hear.
"Happy birthday, my child." He told her. "I was just finishing up here with the garden, will be on my way for the party in a minute or so."
“I-I need you to get over here right now,” Frisk told Asgore, not even caring about how she sounded. Her squeaky voice made it obvious that she was a crying mess.
“I-“ Asgore began, obviously confused, before pausing. “Very well. I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”
The line went dead. Knowing Asgore, he was already climbing into his hoodless pick-up truck (hoodless due to his horns) and barreling down the road. To him, Frisk was his last chance to be a father. He tried to make it work despite Toriel's legal divorce. He wasn't legally Frisk's father, but she still called him as such, much to the chagrin of Toriel.

Frisk put the phone down. She needed to calm herself, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to explain the situation to Asgore. She looked out the window, and as expected, the figure wasn’t there. She didn’t know what she preferred, honestly. At least when they’d been standing there, she knew where they were…
She started pacing back and forth in her room, chewing at her nails, letting the situation sink in more, her rationality returning back to her.
There was something serious going on here. The figure outside? Toriel's letter? The missing evidence? The cut line? Someone didn't want her to know something. Someone didn't want Toriel to reveal her secret about whatever she'd been doing for the past month.
Frisk looked at her alarm clock, noticing that it was now 7:29 PM. 31 minutes until the party. Honestly, she had absolutely no intention of letting the party happen now. Nobody would enjoy it anyways if she was sobbing the whole time. But at the same time, she didn’t want to call everyone and cancel right now. On top of all that, she was unbelievably worried. More than just about herself, but also about Toriel. What kind of people was she involved with? Where was she? Why had she decided to leave the notes now?
Frisk had so many questions and a total of zero answers.
She paused when she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway. She knew it was Asgore, but her paranoia was too great to race right to the door. Instead, she looked out the window and waited for the monster king to vacate his vehicle and walk over to the porch.
The moment the front door opened, she practically flew into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his middle as he gasped in surprise. "Frisk! Are you alright? What happened?"

Frisk took a few seconds before gathering the will to respond, and even then, no words came out. Instead, she handed him the notes that Toriel had left on Frisk’s bed.
"What?" He muttered, frowning as he gently took the letter from her, and began to read it. Frisk watched as his face paled in contrast to his white fur. "T-Tori..." He muttered. "Where is she?" He asked his adopted daughter.
“I don’t know,” Frisk said squeakily as she shook her head. “I went to sleep before I read it. And when I woke up... s-someone had been in her room. It’s a mess.”

Asgore's eyes seemed to light with fire as his hands began to shake. Not with terror or anguish, but with rage. "Stay here." He ordered. "I'll see to her room."
"I already did." Frisk replied, but Asgore was already stomping off.
She watched as Asgore ascended the stairs feeling really bad- she knew she wasn’t responsible for whatever was going on, but it still pained her to have given him the news, not to mention she was feeling guilty. She'd been so angry earlier... what if she'd read the note sooner? Would she have been able to uncover Toriel's secret? Would the intruder have been too late? There were so many strange variables, and at the moment, Frisk was emotional, confused, and scared.

She heard Asgore open the door, and she knew exactly how he felt to see Toriel’s room in ruins. It was heartbreaking, really. She heard the sound of him carefully stepping over piles of papers and other miscellaneous items. She knew he was looking at the loose floorboard.
Alas, nothing was beneath it.
Just as quickly as he'd stormed up the stairs to her room, he stomped back down, eyeing the corners of the house. "Come, Frisk. I'm taking you to stay the night with Sans and Papyrus."
Frisk only nodded as she followed Asgore closely out the door. The past 30 minutes had been so distressing, she was just tired of talking for the moment.
She needed to digest everything.
Frisk didn’t even bother looking back. She didn’t know if she could handle looking at the garden Toriel kept, or the house she’d spent so much time painting and decorating. She was worried that it would all become one painful memory like her old home. She didn’t want that. She wanted to keep calling that place home.
She got into the passenger’s seat of Asgore’s car wordlessly.

The ride to Sans and Papyrus' house was quiet and tense. Asgore was fuming, but also clearly worried and paranoid, constantly checking his rearview mirror and letting out small worried grunts from the back of his throat.
When they arrived, Frisk noticed Papyrus' car was gone, and Sans was standing at the front door, watching them pull into the driveway.
“Sans will take care of you while I get to the bottom of this,” Asgore said, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “...I’m sorry.”
Frisk only gave him a nod as she vacated the vehicle, and walked over to Sans. Despite his usual grin, she could tell he knew the severity of the situation.
“hey kiddo. pap is out with mettaton right now. but i told him you were comin’ over, so he sent me this to show to you.”
Sans showed her his phone screen, which displayed a picture of Papyrus grinning widely and giving a thumbs-up. Frisk gave a halfhearted smile.

Sans gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "come on inside. i'll get you some hot tea. sit on the couch and just try to relax, alright kid?" He directed her to the couch before shuffling off to the kitchen as Frisk sat down on the couch, her body slightly shaking uncontrollably.
After a few moments that seemed like hours, Sans walked back out into the living room, with two cups of hot tea in his hands. He offered one to Frisk, and she took a few moments before accepting it.

Sans sat down beside her, and that was that. He didn't push or pry her with questions, didn't continue to try and make her relax, just simply sat there with her in silence, something Frisk could really appreciate at the moment. She just needed time to relax on her own terms. Tonight's events, alongside fears Frisk already had in her subconscious... it had been traumatic, to say the least.
A few minutes of silence passed, though it wasn’t awkward silence. It was comfortable. As much as Frisk enjoyed the quiet, she felt happy to have Sans around. Surprisingly, she was the one to break this silence.
“Can I use your phone?” She asked Sans in a somewhat steady voice.
It was already in his hand before she'd finished her sentence. He handed it to her silently, and she accepted it. Sans was rarely ever this quiet, and Frisk had only seen him like this just a couple of times over the years. That either meant he was scared, or the situation was deeper and even more serious than what it seemed on the surface. Or both. "Thank you." She muttered as she began dialing the first number on her mind.
She would have used her phone, but the mobile data had expired. She'd only been able to get ahold of Asgore with it thanks to a steady wifi back at the house.
The phone rang for a few seconds before the person on the other end answered. She could hear someone briefly clear their throat on the other end.
“Terrence?” Frisk said quietly.
“Hey, Frisk, me and Greg are on our way right now. So, I didn’t know whether to get the blue party hats or-“
“There’s, um... a change of plans,” Frisk interrupted. “The party’s cancelled. Can you guys come to Sans and Papyrus’s house?”
There was a pause, likely Terrence taking in how rattled she sounded. “Yeah, I know where that is. We’ll be there soon. Everything alright?”
“Not really, but I’d rather not tell you over the phone...”
"That's alright. We'll be there soon."

The line went dead as Frisk handed the device back to Sans, who accepted it, placing it back into one of his jacket pockets.
A few more minutes passed, Frisk taking the occasional sip of tea, but it was difficult to stomach. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Sans looked over. Frisk stood, approaching the door, twisting the knob and opening it for her friends.
Terrence and Greg immediately squeezed their way inside, both talking at once.
"Are you okay? Why's-”
“I’m like, actually super worried-”
"You look pale. Hi Sans-”
“-the party canceled? I thought-"
“-what's the problem? Was there-"
"Have you been crying? Oh Frisk..."
Frisk paused as they spoke, asking many questions. Some of which she didn’t know the answers to herself, in fact. She looked at each of them, noticing how worried they looked. As they continued to ask questions, she moved forward, hugging Terrence tight. Both of them fell silent.

Terrence was stiff for a moment, before he slowly returned the hug. Greg glanced back to see his step-dad driving away.
"Are you okay?" Greg asked Frisk, but Terrence shook his head, mouthing 'not now' to the kid, who fell silent as he closed the door.
Greg looked over at Sans, who was looking at the three. His smile seemed more sincere than it had been just a few moments ago- but anyone could still tell something was wrong. Nonetheless... Terrence was right. They should probably wait for Frisk to compose herself.
Several more moments passed before Frisk let go of Terrence and wiped at her face with her sleeve. "...It came into the house tonight." She told the two boys shakily, who's eyes widened simultaneously as they paled. Terrence looked over at Greg, both of them sharing a look filled with worry, before they both looked back at Frisk.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Terrence asked hesitantly.
“...No. But I think...” she began, before she was interrupted by her tears again, which appeared to frustrate her, causing her to spill even more tears. She wiped them on her sleeve again. “Toriel...”

"Let's... sit down." Greg advised. There were no objections as Terrence led the emotionally distraught Frisk back to the couch. Neither boy had ever seen her anything like this. The only person in the room who had was Sans, but that was a secret between him and Frisk.

Once all four of them were seated, Frisk took a few deep breaths, trying not to get overwhelmed by the words she was trying to say. “Toriel. She’s... missing. She left me a note, but I didn’t read it in time. I was supposed to look under the floorboard under her b-bed, but I took a nap, and someone else went under her bed while I was sleeping. I d-don’t know where she is.”
Greg and Terrence didn't know what to say as the three humans and single monster sat on the couch in silence, broken only by an occasional sip of tea from Frisk, or by Terrence scratching the back of his blonde head.
"What was supposed to be under the floorboard?" Greg asked.
Frisk had thought long and hard about that herself. What exactly was under that floorboard? All Toriel had said was that there was evidence and files down there. But not the specifics. That was bothering her a lot.
“I’m not totally sure,” Frisk said in a hushed tone. “Some kind of... files.”

"Files?" Greg frowned, sharing another look with Terrence, who was equally as confused. "Um... should we cancel your party?" Terrence asked Frisk. "Probably best if we avoid a bunch of people heading over there right now."
Frisk gave a nod. She felt guilty, still, as if she’d inconvenienced everyone she’d invited. She knew she had bigger issues, but couldn’t help but feel bad. Then again, she felt bad in general at the moment.
“Yeah. Best to cancel,” she said quietly.
"I can handle that. I helped make the invitations, after all." Terrence gave Frisk a smile as he pulled out his phone and stood up, then walked into the kitchen to begin making calls.
"It doesn't make sense." Greg muttered. "Toriel is an elementary teacher. There's no way she could have attracted attention like this unless... it could have been a monster-related hate crime..."

Greg didn’t look at Frisk until he realized she was totally silent, and when he did, he swallowed. “Sorry. Not a good thing to think about right now, I know...”
Frisk bit the inside of her cheek. As much as she hated the thought, it was actually likely that a hate crime was involved. Toriel had no personal enemies.
Frisk wasn't sure how much time passed. She sat there, drowning in her thoughts, trying to understand what was going through her head and what had transpired. Terrence returned and she immediately latched herself onto him. It was quiet for the next hour or so. Terrence sat there, allowing Frisk to hold onto him as Greg sat beside them, fiddling his thumbs, staring in deep concentration at a picture of a bone on the wall while Sans slept on the other end of the couch, a half-empty bottle of ketchup lying on his stomach, before he suddenly sat up and tucked the bottle into his jacket. "they're back." He informed them. As soon as that was said, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway could be heard.

Everyone stayed put as the car stopped moving. Judging from the growls of frustration outside, Frisk could tell Undyne was accompanying Asgore, who seemed quiet. Undyne’s complaining continued until they reached the porch, where the fish monster took a deep breath before opening the door.
Frisk’s eyes widened when she saw the state they were in. Undyne’s armor was little more than scrap metal, dozens of claw marks running down on it. Asgore’s outfit was also ruined, bruises on both sides of his face. Both looked miserable.
"Dad!" Frisk stood up quickly, eyes wide. "What happened!?"
"To the c-couch..." Asgore grunted to Undyne, who gave a nod as she supported the King toward the furniture as Sans got up, making room for him. Asgore was clutching his side, indicating a cracked rib. Frisk was in shock. What the hell could have done this to two very powerful monsters such as them?

Asgore sat, while Undyne appeared good enough to keep standing. She was covered in scratches, but there were no signs of broken bones or anything of the sort.
“We went over there,” Undyne explained, gritting her teeth. “Someone else was outside, though.”
Frisk, Greg, and Terrence all exchanged glances with each other. "One guy did this?" Greg asked in disbelief.
“Yeah!! He was...” Undyne looked away, remembering what had happened. “He was fast. And... well, aggressive. Clearly. Came outta nowhere. Bastard...”

Frisk stared at Asgore, who was looking to the ground, his eyes watery and in shock. She could tell his emotions weren't focused on his wounds or this person they faced. Something else had happened.
"...and Toriel?" Frisk asked. Undyne pursed her lips and quickly looked to Asgore at this, who closed his eyes. "I... received a call… on the way back..." He stated, speaking very slowly, his breathing irregular.
Frisk could tell from the tone of Asgore’s voice and the tears swimming in his eyes that he had bad news. But she had her fingers crossed. Please, let it be something good. Please, please, please...
“Toriel is... Tori… she’s… n-no longer... with... us...” Asgore said at an agonizingly slow speed.

He opened his mouth to say more, but let out only a feeble croak and closed it as the tears began to run down his cheeks. "They found her body in an alleyway." Undyne explained solemnly. "Right before she... you know..."
"Turned to dust." Greg breathed.
Frisk stared at the ground. She'd already cried so much tonight, and the news that Toriel was just... gone... she was more in shock than anything.
With a depressed sigh, she sat on the edge of the couch, still staring down, eyes wide as her adoptive father wept beside her, muttering the name of his ex-wife as he did so, Undyne giving him occasional awkward pats on the back.

The one person in the room to be seemingly unphased was Sans, who stood by the window, leaning against the wall, watching the group with his usual grinning expression, though the smile was far less than genuine.

Frisk didn’t know why this didn’t affect her that much- well, actually, she knew exactly why. It was because Toriel had died before. She’d killed Toriel before. But that was back when Frisk was still capable of performing RESETs. This death... was permanent. Yet still, Frisk subconsciously wasn’t convinced it was absolute... part of her thought Toriel would come back. There would be a second chance.

But there wasn’t.
 
I haven't finished this just yet, but I am impressed of how much detail is into this. There are just a few things I would like to criticize. And don't worry, it's not in a mean way. I just want to show your mistakes. I am not sure if these are fixed at later episodes or not, but just in case, I shall point them out. First of all, your punctuation for the quotations is wrong. Generally, it is a comma before a character speaks. There are some exceptions to the rule of course, but so far, there were none I could see. There are also supposed to be commas if the sentence doesn't end in the quote. The second thing I must say is not too much of a problem, but more of a note. Frisk is not female but genderless, as said on the wiki. Of course, some of the fandom makes Frisk a girl just to make things easier for the plot. If that is what you are doing, than keep doing it. Other than that, the story is wonderful. You have the personalities on the characters on point. Keep up the work.
 
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