章 78: Chapter 78
Frisk did everything he thought of to calm down. He relieved himself. He washed his face. He took off his sweater and his tank top to cool down. He even tried to pray and meditate. Nothing was working. Frisk still felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Frisk stared at his phone and watched the comforting messages come in as he tried not to let the tears fall. Everyone said everything they could think of to comfort him.
"You'll be okay, Frisk," Alphys said. "We'll be there soon."
"Yeah," Papyrus said. "Stay determined."
"We won't let him send you away, Frisk," Sans said. "Just please don't give up."
"Besides, even if Mettaton takes you away, we'll rescue you," Undyne said.
Frisk knew they meant well, but he could not calm down. His thoughts were racing faster than he could comprehend them. The terror was overwhelming him. Frisk prayed and prayed, but he could not stop focus.
"I can't do this," Frisk finally typed while rocking back and forth. "I feel like I'm gonna die. I can't do this. I can't even meditate. My head won't let me."
Frisk couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even feel like wearing clothes. He tore off his shoes and socks so that his bare feet could feel the icy floor.
Out of habit, Frisk stacked his shoes and socks under his clothes neatly by the window.
He stared at the pile, then he stared at the window for a moment.
Frisk thought about opening that window and making his exit, but his thoughts were interrupted when Napstablook finally sent a text.
"Wait!" Napstablook said. "I have an idea. Frisk, go somewhere where Mettaton might not hear you. I'm going to call you."
Before Frisk could respond, the phone started vibrating. The number came up as Alphys' for some reason. He quickly grabbed a towel to lie down on, hopped into the tub, and shut the curtain.
Frisk answered the phone and whispered, "Napstablook, are you crazy? What if he hears me?"
"I'm sorry," Napstablook replied shyly. "I just thought that you would like to hear some music."
"What?"
"You said that you loved listening to my music because it reminded you of when you'd spend time with your dad. I was thinking maybe if you listened to music again now, then you could calm down like you did before. Uh, if you don't like the idea, that's fine. I can just hang up…"
"No," Frisk replied quickly. "Please play some music for me. I would love to hear it. It could help me meditate."
"Oh, okay," Napstablook said in his timid excitement. "Let me just play the music on my phone, so you can hear it."
"Okay," Frisk said quietly. "Just please don't be too loud."
"Okay," Napstablook said quietly. "Here, we go…"
Frisk turned the phone's volume as quietly as he possibly could while still hearing. Then, he spread out the towel, laid down, and placed the phone by his head.
The music was quiet, but Frisk could still hear it. The repeating mixed melody of Spookwave was familiar and calming. Focusing on it helped him breathe and relax enough to meditate and pray.
Gradually, the melody soothed Frisk so much that he fell into a deep meditative state where he was almost asleep. The bathroom was silent except for the music and for the thoughts he shared with only the Almighty. The silence pushed Frisk into a deeper place where he could fall asleep.
As Frisk slept, he relived a flashback.
Frisk was seven-years-old. It was a stormy day when his bus took him home from school. Frisk got off sullener and more silent than usual that day. He was angry and upset and was hoping to go to his room to blow off some steam without talking to anyone.
That day, Frisk had gotten in a fight with several classmates. They were teasing him for reading his homework and reading instead of playing with the other kids during indoor recess, but that wasn't what bothered him. They bullied him for that all the time, and he usually ignored them. But today, the bullies went too far. One of them said that Frisk's mother was a good-for-nothing drunk, so Frisk slammed him on the head with the book he was reading before they all ganged up on him while the teacher wasn't looking.
The front door was unlocked. That wasn't a surprise. His parents' flexible work schedule had always meant that they got off early enough so that Frisk wasn't left home alone for too long. That was especially true since his mother had gone to rehab and his father started coming home earlier.
Frisk opened the door and quietly pulled it shut behind him. He saw his Dad lying on the floor of the den with his headphones in. His eyes were shut, and he appeared to be sleeping.
Frisk tried taking the opportunity to head upstairs, but before he reached the first step, his Dad called for him.
"Frisk," his Dad, Franc, said. "Your principal called me today. Come here and let me see how bad it is."
Frisk stubbornly froze in place, but his Dad pushed, "Now."
Frisk sighed, placed his backpack next to the stairs, and walked over to the den where his father was now sitting up on the couch puffing on his e-cig. Once he got into the light, he saw the shiner his classmates had left under his left eye.
"Dear God," Franc said gripping his pen more tightly. "Does it still hurt?"
Frisk looked down at the ground and shook his head.
"You know I can tell when you're lying to me, right?" Franc replied as he stood up. "Come to the kitchen with me and let me get you some ice."
Frisk looked up at the gentle smile on his face and nodded before he followed behind him.
When they got to the kitchen, Franc sat Frisk down on the counter while he got him a bag of ice.
Once Franc finally handed Frisk his bag of ice, he asked, "Do you wanna talk about it? You know we need to."
As the storm raged outside, Frisk felt the tears escaping from his eyes. All the pent-up emotions he hid from the world that day flooded out.
"I hate those kids. I hate all of them. Why can't they just leave us alone, Dad?" Frisk barely managed to get out before he started sobbing.
Franc wrapped his arms around Frisk in a hug to show he understood. Then, he picked him up and carried him into the den.
Frisk knew what was about to happen.
His Dad sat down. Frisk crawled out of his lap and sat next to him. His Dad pulled his mp3 player out of the pocket of his hoodie and unwrapped the headphones. He handed an earbud to Frisk and then stuck an earbud in his own ear. They laid down next to each while Frisk held the ice pack on his face.
Then his Dad selected a song and they laid down and listened until their hearts were comforted and calmed.
Franc held onto Frisk's hand and smiled sadly. Frisk let the ice pack cool down the swelling on his black eye and breathed deeply as he allowed the music to calm his soul.
In the present, a tear rolled down Frisk's cheek and his lips curled into a smile as he slept.
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