Asriel had been here before.
Not… not here, but… in this situation, somewhere very much like here. He could only remember bits and pieces, and he knew that whatever this city he was in now was very different from the one he could remember fleeting glances of. The way he’d been greeted was different, the apartment he’d (very briefly) gone home to was different, the entire atmosphere was different.
But… he was… somewhere, again. There might not be Frisk (they had found him and welcomed him with open arms; he remembers that) and there might not be…
(A flower, golden and scowling, saying the scientists had a sick sense of humour for having them both there at the same time, making them come face to face with one another)
… anyone else, but… he was somewhere, and he was himself.
And he would stay Asriel Dreemurr.
His thoughts were a flurry of trying to process his situation and dealing with the fact that there was likely no chance of him reverting to his being a flower; but he didn’t… he didn’t know… he didn’t know where to go here. Before, he’d been able to scout out locations to go that helped clear his mind; he knew where the parks where. But here, Asriel didn’t… know anywhere.
He wandered until he didn’t know where he was anymore; he must have crossed into a different section of the city at some point, and was vaguely aware of his feet hurting. He had managed to find some sort of pathway; some sort of way out of the hustle and bustle of the city. Maybe it was the flowers that dotted the path that had called to him; maybe it was all just coincidence, with no rhyme or reason (though he certainly kept expecting any and all of the flowers to turn to him and greet him – “howdy!”).
He followed the path without a word until he encountered someone returning from wherever it led and had silently stepped aside to let them pass by more easily without properly glancing up to see who they were until they were only but a few metres away from him.
Asriel would have recognized them anywhere. Even now. Even after all this time.
He could be here at the same time as Flowey. He could be here as himself indefinitely, even without a SOUL. And yet Asriel hadn’t… he hadn’t ever expected to see Chara, hadn’t expected to see someone who so completely had died. But–had this Chara even died? Or, worse… would they even know him?
Tears had already sprung to his eyes regardless, his arms coming up to try to simultaneously hide his face away and wipe the tears away before they had a chance to properly fall.
“I… I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t think that…
I didn’t know I’d ever find you here…”
Chara... hadn’t been here before.
To find themselves awakened, alive in some fanciful city only seemed like a cruel joke. To be given some form of a second chance, a second life in a place far from home, and back into the society they loathed so much... It was almost a punishment rather than an attempt at forgiveness. And it’s what drove them to avoid actual responsibilities as much as possible, and to live in this place as little as possible.
They couldn’t say they knew this place at all. Stubbornness kept them from exploring past the few spots they enjoyed. Part of them wanted this place to remain foreign, untouched by them, and yet-- the world kept moving on, didn’t it? Unwillingly, they managed to be dragged to other places, to meet people they (still, partially) wished they hadn’t met. Every moment spent in this place was sickening, and they fought against it at every moment.
As much as they feared seeing them again, Chara missed their family.
If it were possible, they’d go home, run to their parent’s arms, and never leave again.
These thoughts were the usual ones that lingered as they relaxed on the edge of this respite, petals picked off a flower drifting down to the memorial below. It was impossible to count the amount of times they’d been here, quietly mourning the past. The amount of flowers that fell into the depths below by their hands were countless. Regardless of how comforting they found this place, it was still the spot they remembered the most.
( And how funny, to think of this as some comfort zone, only because it’s far from humanity. )
Without a single word spoken, they picked themselves up, preparing to leave. By now, they had accepted nothing would change. That their previous life, their family they loved, the few things they cherished in life, were gone, far from reach. And part of them laughed bitterly at that, yelling at themselves: ‘Why would they want to see you anyway, after you ruined them?’
It was almost like a wish coming true that their name was spoken, from a familiar voice. Every part of them froze instantly, eyes turning to look at who they were passing. It had to be him. It was--
Just saying his name left their heart aching. Memories flashing back to their lost thoughts of him. Watching him perish, because of their own actions...
He was here, alive and well. Isn’t that better than anything?
Words caught in their throat. They didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to confront him. The moment they noticed him beginning to tear up, trying to hide it from them ( big kids don’t cry, what a joke ) they almost reached out, pulling him into a hug.
...But they couldn’t. They were frozen, hesitant, uncertain.
“I...
I didn’t think I’d see you either.”
(Never again.)
The moment they spoke, questions quickly escaped them.
“Are you okay? How long have you been here?
Is anyone else we know here?
... And... I’m sorry.”
