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Aug 28, 2025

[deltarune fic] hearts beating in time

for @krispdreemurr aka @birdnormal, who inspired me almost 10 years ago to write the very first fic i ever finished, for the hot new toby fox game that had just gotten a full release a few months prior. the more things change, huh?

word count: 4606

—

You wonder, when you can work up the energy for stupid things like 'wondering', how it is that nobody else seems to see it. How they don't just know.

It's good that they don't, obviously. It's better for everyone if they never do. You know that. It's supposed to be a comfort, you think. Knowing that you're not going to spoil the plan unless you, yourself, open your mouth to deliberately and completely ruin everything. It's not a problem. Before all this, you barely ever opened your mouth anyway.

Your mouth is opening a lot more, lately. Opening and closing. Your lips, your teeth, your tongue, your throat, all working together in harmony. You're pretty sure you've opened your mouth more times today than the whole rest of the year put together. But today, when you did it, it wasn't really your words that came out. It wasn't your voice. It wasn't you.

The thing that they are—that soul, that person—they're nothing like you at all.

They talk more than you. They're more curious than you, more fearless, more friendly, more nice, more. They want to run straight into the deepest darkness—they're always running, you're glad you can't really feel your legs anymore—and talk up every stupid little playing card and puzzle piece and stuffed animal they see, right away. And it works. People listen to them. People want to be their friend. They get attacked out of nowhere, they get hurt out of nowhere, and they just say the right words and do the right things and by the end of it, everyone's smiling and laughing and pretending like it never happened. It's like the pain doesn't matter to them.

Maybe it doesn't. It's not their body getting hurt, after all.

They also—you think they know something. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. It's in the way they keep deciding to talk to certain people, over and over, like they're expecting to get something. It's not everyone. Your mom, your teacher, a couple of your classmates. Ralsei.

They got along so, so fast with Ralsei.

You still feel it, when you decide to be dumb and try and feel things again. Ten minutes after meeting him, maybe even less, and the way your arms were wrapping around his body, the way your fingers clung tight to his fur like you were saying goodbye to him for the very last time, because you know that by the time he comes back, you'll be...

...You still feel it. You don't want to feel it. You don't want to look at Ralsei anymore.

But they can't hear you, see you, feel you. Not really. That's how it's supposed to be. They keep talking to him, and he's so nice, and approachable, and friendly, and more—

And he looks at you, when they've gone and left you with yourself. Really looks. And the kind, soft, monstrous face that you used to wish you had with every ounce of your miserable human body whispers to you that he knows what you've done, and he knows who you are and who you aren't.

You didn't even have to warn him to keep his mouth shut. He knew that part, too.

Nobody else can see it. Just him. Just you.

With Susie, you can't blame her, even if you wanted to. She doesn't know you, and before today, you didn't know her, either. There's something thorny that tries to dig into the hole in your chest when you think about that. (The parts of you that manage to slip out from between their fingers are the parts that make her smile the hardest, and part of you can't help but wonder that if you'd said something, if things had been different...)

(But they aren't different. It's too late for you.)

But everyone else...you're left here, lying in your bed in the dark. Staring at the ceiling. Wondering.

Your parents don't notice. Your classmates don't notice. The people in town that watched you like a hawk as you grew up around them, none of them notice. Can't anyone just tell that there's something wrong with you, without you having to say anything? They always managed to figure out how to do that before. There's always something wrong with you. Everyone knows that, especially you.

Maybe that's the reason no one says anything, you think. Maybe they do know after all.

Maybe everyone around you has simply decided that the wet, pulsing, burning-hot thing you've crammed inside your chest is better at being a person than you are, and they like them better than they ever liked you.

Your fingers sink into your skin and dig down until it hurts. They're yanked into your hand, slipping their way through all the flesh and bone and blood that ought to be in the way like it isn't even there. Like you really are hollow inside. How polite, your soul is, to keep everything so neat and clean and tidy for you. How thoughtful.

You slam them in the birdcage, hard enough to rattle the bars. You turn to it, smiling your smile. Not the small, mechanical twitches they've commanded you do to your face. The one you made up as a little kid that bares all your teeth like the fangs you'll never have.

You watch them twitch, sticking uselessly against the bars. You pull out the kitchen knife from the sheath in your back pocket that Dess gave you for Christmas.

See this? you want to tell them. This is what I'm really like. This is who I really am.

You hold the knife up high. They twitch again. You can't tell if they're afraid of you. If they know what you could do to them, assuming you can do anything at all. They're a soul. The soul. What do they have to be afraid of?

You want to find out. You want to show them what it means to be afraid. You want to force them to burn you out entirely the next time they take control so you don't have to think about this ever again. You want to grab the cage and bash it against the floor over and over until your mom hears the noise and comes into your room and asks what's wrong with you and figures out everything and tells you she's sorry and she promises she'll find another way to fix what you've done and she loves you. You want—

You want—food.

You want a lot of food. You want a lot of food right now this second.

You remember, in what feels like a burst of sudden clarity, that your mom told you she'd baked your favorite pie for you to eat for breakfast tomorrow. You can still smell the cinnamon drifting up from the kitchen. You also remember that the lock she used to use for the oven door has been rattling around in the trunk of her car ever since Asriel left for college and stealing bites and slices while she wasn't looking stopped being any fun.

...You find a better use for your knife.

—

Things are...different, when tomorrow comes around. It's strange. They don't feel different at first. You slam the soul back through the gaps in your ribs and then, at least, you stop feeling exhausted and overheated and disgusting and full of what was both too much pie and not nearly enough pie. Your body goes to school. Your body falls asleep in class. Susie grabs you in the hall and shakes you around by the arm because no, it wasn't a dream you'd had, she remembers the Dark World just as much as you do.

(You knew the Dark World was real all along, of course. You've known since the beginning. That weird thing in the pit of your chest is way too happy to find out that she's still just as much your friend today as she was yesterday.)

You dive back in through the closet doors. Ralsei's there, waiting for you with an eager, lonely smile. You feel...you don't know. Not as bad as you thought, seeing him again. It's hard to stay mad at him, even when part of you still kind of wants to. At least they hold off on making you hug him like that again.

The others come back, stolen by your hands out of the abandoned classroom and piled all at once into a suddenly bustling Castle Town. You greet every last one of them like they're all old friends of yours—and they are, kind of, minus the 'old' part. Everyone likes you here. Everyone's happy to see you here. Mostly. King still hates you, but this is very clearly and obviously because he sucks, so it bothers no one involved.

It's strangely...nice. Like a dream. You don't know how you're supposed to feel about it. You don't know if you're supposed to feel any way at all.

But Ralsei gives you and Susie and Lancer your own rooms in the castle, and they're...you can't put words to it. It's been years since you've had a room that felt like yours the way this one does. Maybe you've never had one at all.

There's a pile of moss he put in the corner for you. Despite everything, you're pretty sure you're hungry again.

You decide that maybe it's time to stop pretending that Ralsei's not your friend, too.

Even so, by the time they've apparently exhausted everyone they wanted you to talk to, your skin feels like it's itching off your body. You know what comes next, even if the soul inside you doesn't. As soon as you and Susie walk out, it feels like you blink, and you're standing in front of the Dark World carved out of the computer lab. It feels like you blink, and there's—

Noelle.

The moment she sees you for the first time, her nose scrunches a little. Her eyebrows furrow. Like she can't quite recognize the person in front of her, even though she knows she ought to. Like she can tell, maybe, that you're not who and what you should be.

She's onto you.

She's onto you, and when Susie and Ralsei run off, when it's just the two of you together, when it's just like it used to be when you were both kids and your worlds hadn't been broken yet, the overly-friendly overly-nice overly-talkative soul in your body—

"No triple trucies."

Says exactly what you would've said, in exactly the way you would've said it.

And Noelle laughs, and rolls her eyes at you, and relaxes. Because you don't sound the same, you know you don't sound right, but for a second, you sounded a lot like yourself.

It happened so slowly you didn't notice it. Now you see it everywhere. You have a stray thought, an impulse, an idea, and it actually happens. The soul does what you'd do. Not always—they're still nosy enough to poke around where they don't belong, and you end up having to outright shut your eyes just to avoid giving them the satisfaction of seeing something they shouldn't—and not perfectly—you didn't mean to just say outright that you like that Ralsei is Ralsei, you're just lucky he liked that so much that for once you don't come off as the weirdo between the two of you—but they do it. They've been doing it, more and more often.

Even when you're being rude. Even when you try doing something dumb on purpose. Even when it feels like you've just said the wrong thing.

You come running out of the basement, flinching at every echoing step you make with your empty, rotting puppet of a body. Susie takes your arm (you flinch again, you can't stop) and, at a hesitant whisper, asks if you're okay. You want nothing more than to grab her back with both your hands and scream out NO, as hard as you possibly can.

It takes a moment staring at the shock and worry on her and Ralsei's faces to realize that that's exactly what you've done. Because that's what they wanted to do, too.

Ralsei, smiling like it pains him, tells you not to worry. He tells you to forget about it.

You know he's new at this whole friendship thing, but you still feel like he should've known better than to say something like that out loud.

You don't forget, no matter what happens. You never forget any of it.

The thing in your chest is trying to get better at being you.

—

When you stab your knife into the floor of your living room, drawing out the dark, stumbling to grab the soul out of the couch cushions before you lose it in the thickening clouds, you still haven't forgotten. You think to yourself, on impulse, I need to test this, I need to know—

And your Dark World listens. Before you know it, you're on a quiz show.

This isn't really what you had in mind.

Still, it's...something, you guess. It's a lot of things. Tenna is a lot of things, specifically, that you generally try very hard not to think about. You're pretty sure he's bringing them up on purpose from the way he keeps looking at you when he says them. And talking at you. And talking about you, which is a hundred times worse than any of it.

Susie likes him, though. You try to maybe hate him less. It doesn't work that well, but it's not like you're the one in charge of this part anyway.

Until you are.

The quiz, when it's not about Tenna's stupid show and it's not some random joke question to try and get you to laugh, is about you. It's asking—Tenna's asking—what your favorite food is. He's your TV, which means he apparently knows the answer already, sure, whatever, you're not going to bother questioning any of that. What's more important to him is that you know the answer. He's only doing this for you to give you some easy points. Susie and Ralsei are looking at you expectantly, waiting, because it's your favorite food, why wouldn't you know your own favorite food?

And you realize, right as the timer starts to tick down and your hands don't move—you know the answer. The soul inside you doesn't. They're getting better, getting closer, but they can't do this. You know before they even lift your finger that they're going to choose wrong.

Before you can think about it, your hand twitches. The cursor slides down to PIE.

The soul buzzes in for you. You all get your points.

The show goes on. You try to keep that in mind as much as you can, but playing games on your TV is still almost as good of a distraction now as it was when you were a kid. You don't forget, but you...let it slide a little. Enough not to be too annoyed when they ignore you when you think about telling Susie that Tenna sucks. He does suck. He's annoying and clingy and pathetic and he's constantly bringing up how things used to be as if that makes things any better now and he's basically just like—

You don't want to be thinking about this. Tenna makes you think about it just by existing. So he sucks.

...But Susie likes him. And, apparently, so does the soul, since you S-Ranked the first round. It could've been worse, you guess. You maybe would've liked that whole adventure game part a little more if you'd actually been the one playing. Even that's doubtful, though. You know what game that was supposed to be. Tenna's obviously messed with it. You couldn't even kill guys with your sword anymore.

You can, in the version Ramb shows you backstage. And you do. The soul figures out the game fast once they pick up the sword. Your fingers jab at the buttons almost as hard as your character jabs the monsters. It's still not the same as playing on your own, but it's fun and Tenna doesn't want you to do it. A win-win.

You get comfortable. You barely even realize it until it's happened, but you do. Whether the soul is starting to be able to listen to you or not, whether they're going to try to turn into you or not—you're having fun. Right here, right now, you're having fun.

After what happened, after what you did, you didn't think you'd ever be able to have fun like this again. It's...

...Dangerous, you realize, too late to stop. You're dangerous like this.

The soul doesn't stop you, either. Maybe they can't. You keep playing the games put in front of you, and you actually start to have some fun with both of them, even though Tenna still sucks and Ramb thinks you're a lot closer than you really are. You give a few more little nudges to help the soul stay on the right track. They have you hunt down what has to be every single secret Tenna left behind in his version of the game.

You get to play the song Dess wrote. Live on stage.

You try not to think about that too much.

You try not to think about how Ralsei's messing with her lyrics. You try not to think about how Susie's drumming doesn't match the beat she set. You try not to think about how your hands were made to play that song without a single mistake, even though they can't play anything right on the piano, even though Dess herself was still figuring out how to play one of the chords without her nails getting in the way the day she—

You try not to think about it, but the distractions aren't working. You stopped finding any real comfort in TV a long time ago. Tenna's running out of ways to keep you (and them) busy. You know it and he knows it.

The soul inside you doesn't. This time, you don't correct them.

The look on Susie's face as Tenna traps her in a stupid plastic ball makes that hole in your chest feel like it's getting wider and wider. You pretend it isn't guilt. You pretend you're already guilty of enough as it is.

The soul's the one who's good at pretending, between the two of you. You never really figured out how to be something you're not. You only thought you did.

—

Susie recovers faster than you do, because she's...stronger, and cooler, and in general much Susie-er than you'll ever be. The feeling in you lessens, overwhelmed by the noise and flashiness of everything else going on. Makes sense. Guilt's never stopped you from following the plan before. Why should it stop you now, when you don't even control your own fate anymore?

Your feet tread through the empty green room with a purpose, lingering for a while at that light that only you can see. After a few seconds, you see the S-Rank door coming closer through the snowy haze blanketing the room. You'd groan if you could. (Maybe you can. You're not sure if you should try.) Of course they'd want one more secret game. The last one you found was...you didn't like it much, at the end. But of course they wouldn't be scared of it, just like they weren't scared of Spamton. They're not the one—

Pure, black dread nearly makes you trip over your own feet.

That was...that felt familiar. Familiar familiar. It's something she'd told you might happen, before you gave yourself up to become this. You didn't ask how she knew—you never ask how she knows—but she'd given you the brisk details.

You might feel as though you've done something before that you've never done. Your body might know what to do in a situation, or what not to do, without you knowing why.

Let it happen. Promise me you'll let it happen.

And you will. You've done it plenty of times. That feeling spikes sometimes when it looks like you should be in danger—Jevil's cage, and Spamton's...everything, and for some reason also that rickety teacup ride in Queen's basement—but then they move you and your friends out of the way or push through the fight like they've done it a hundred times before. Maybe they have. You don't know how many tries it took them to get as strong as they've been. You don't know how many times they've let you fall before they picked you back up.

You walk past the S-Rank door. You don't run. It feels like it's deliberate, but you're not the one doing it. This feeling has never, ever been like this, not even close. You don't know what's happening. You don't think you want to know. You feel like you know already. You feel like something's laughing at you. You feel like—

It's already too late. Why bother going back now?

Why not play a little longer?

You feel like whatever was in that last game, they've decided that you don't want to see it. Or—maybe you decided that you didn't want to see it? Was there something behind that door that gave you the power to do something to them? A chance to yell out NO, like you did before? Did they see you, hear you, feel you, and then make you forget?

You don't know. You don't know if you'll ever find out. You don't even know which version of you or not-you or both-of-you is the reason you feel like you're about to throw up.

You don't know if you have the time to care about that anymore, when Tenna talks and fights and surrenders and smiles and falls and falls and—

And the feeling comes back. You look up at her, and she looks down at you, and that sick, black, familiar wave of dread comes back. Stronger than you've ever felt it before.

Your eyes dart to Susie and Ralsei, readying themselves for anything because they don't know what's coming. Waiting for you to lead the charge. You feel—unprotected. Unarmored. You don't know why. You know exactly why. Your head feels like it's splitting open.

You hold out your sword. The Roaring Knight raises up her bat.

You know it won't be enough, the instant the fight really starts. Of course you know. That's what you're counting on. The sickness in your stomach intensifies until you can barely manage to breathe—how many times have they put you through a fight you aren't supposed to win? How many times have you been forced to watch her cut through your friends like they're nothing? How many more times will it take before they're satisfied? Why aren't they giving up?

Ralsei falls first, pinned by a whirlwind of black knives so fast your eyes can barely track them. He crumples into a pile of tattered rags. You can't look at him. There's nothing he can do in this fight, anyway.

You think you might be the next to fall. You don't know. All you can tell is that the fight's still going, and Susie's wasting time and energy and precious items bringing you back at whatever orders of theirs you're apparently still giving her. Her attacks are three times as strong as yours. It has to be obvious you're holding back, but she doesn't seem to notice. She just keeps bringing you up. She keeps talking.

You can hear her. Even when you're on the ground, even when you feel like your body is falling apart at the seams, you can still hear her voice.

"Even if you knock them down," Susie grits out, "...as long as I'm here..."

"Even if you knock me down," you hear, as if from another time, "as long as they're here..."

"As long as I'm here to lift them back up..."

"As long as Kris has got a hand to lift me up with..."

You open your eyes. You're awake. You hear her short, panting laughter loud and clear.

"You're never gonna win!" she roars. "You hear me?!"

There's not even a pause in the Knight's attacks. You watch Susie crash to the ground before she can say another word.

(You feel lightheaded.)

Your body lifts up, staggering you back to your feet. The Knight stares at you, faceless and cold. She probably doesn't even know who it is she's been fighting, besides you. She probably doesn't care. You both know the plan. You know what has to happen here.

(Your vision narrows.)

You know it. You do. You didn't forget.

But—

(You feel cornered.)

Susie and Ralsei are silent at your side. Beaten. Hurt and downed and it's all your fault. You don't have anything left to heal them. Susie used the very last item you had to save you.

(You...)

You don't want to do this anymore.

You want this to stop.

(Your heartbeat becomes twisted.)

Your arm lifts up. Your fingers curl tight around the hilt. You grit your teeth.

(Suddenly....)

The soul swings your sword, and you don't hold back.

(...a tempest.)

—

You sit at the grand piano. You wait. Nothing happens.

No one's looking at your face, so you have the chance to glare as hard as you like. What's taking them so long? Susie and Ralsei are waiting for you to finish this stupid piano puzzle. You're waiting for you to finish this stupid piano puzzle. They would've looked through your eyes at the sheet music Susie wrote down for you, so you have to assume they at least know some of it. Enough to plink away one key at a time like you've had to endure for all the others.

But they don't do that. They don't play a single note. They just sit there. What the hell are they waiting for?

What the hell are you waiting for?

You stand up. The piano remains unplayed.

You wish, momentarily, that you could get away with growling at yourself like a feral dog.

"Umm, Kris, maybe I could give it a try? I think I..."

You might start growling soon no matter if you can get away with it or not. It's a piano. It's like every other piano in the world. Worlds. The point is, you could play these damn notes blindfolded if the stupid thing in your stupid body would just let you.

"Kris," Susie interrupts. "Today in church, when you were asleep, your mom...said you used to play good." You hear her scratching the back of her head. "I dunno why you're pretending you can't now."

You freeze.

"Maybe you're, like...embarrassed, or something? But, like, y'know..."

You feel her step closer to you. Her sigh ruffles the hair on the back of your head.

"Kris," she says softly. "You should play."

Your face goes blank. You feel yourself sitting back down. You think you might be the one who did it. You think you might be the one bringing your own hands, slowly, to hover above the keys.

Susie's right, you realize. Like always.

You're still no good at pretending to be something you're not.

You start to play. The soul doesn't so much as twitch your fingers to throw you off. Like they're sitting back, all to let you do this.

Like you're the one they were waiting for all along.

—

The thing living in your chest isn't trying to be you, you realize.

They're trying to make you be yourself.

You don't know which is worse.