more for the boogerman

[dustless]

 (Continued from here~)

Frisk hopes there's no fight. 

They want to be left alone, sure, but that's not the only thing they hope for. Even they can't just fix a--rivalry, a longstanding hatred, at least not when the opposing parties actually know each other. But they also hope they can...lessen it, at least a bit. So the Sandman doesn't try to outright kill--no, they're sorry, 'banish', with lots of beating and tarry blood--Pitch when they see each other every time.

(Of course, they don't know the whole story. But they can't imagine that would matter.)

The time ticks down in companionable silence. 

Frisk keeps their eyes on the sky--

--and they sit straight up when they first spot glimmering gold in the clouds.

Comments

[boogerman]

So's his. And he hates it. What the hell is 'bubblegum'? It's a pretty nasty modern flavor invention... he offers his to Frisk, before he starts wanting to gag.

He'll keep the wrapper though, it gave him a laugh.

"Considering he's the second one I've met, I can honestly say I hate half of them."

[dustless]

They take it with a raised eyebrow. It's one of their favorites. Pitch is weird.

"...there are a lot more around, actually. You'll probably be able to meet them here. Like the nice shopkeeper, she makes the best cinnamon bunnies."

[boogerman]

"Alright, I hate one of them and I hope he never finds out there are others."

[dustless]

"Why? Think he'll...rub off on th--?"

Frisk walks around a corner and walks straight into Asgore.

[boogerman]

"Probably." Sarcasm incoming. "His wonderful personality makes me seem like a teddy bear."

Hello, Goatdad! Let's see Frisk's reaction, because all he knows of you is that Toriel is... not quite fond, especially after the Gun Night.

[dustless]

And Frisk's reaction is--surprise. Just that, though, no underlying fear or anger. "Hi! Thought you were at the...main...party?"

"Howdy, Frisk!" He smiles at them both, eyes (one orange, one blue, unlike Toriel's deep red) lighting up. "And you must be Pitch Black. I'm helping prepare some entertainment for later tonight!" He unearths a box labelled FIREWORKS from beneath his massive cloak.

[boogerman]

"Just Pitch." he says, smirking at the fireworks. "Where are you going to be hiding those?" That sounds like fun, indoor fireworks.

[dustless]

"The roof!" Sorry, Pitch, even monsters aren't going to set off fireworks inside.

(Well. Not without asking first. Mettaton will probably try it some other time, once he tests out how flammable everything is.)

"This is the final box. I will be joining the party itself shortly, Frisk, don't worry."

[boogerman]

Too bad, he'd be laughing while others were shrieking... heh.

To Frisk: "Did you want to go back and wait?"

[dustless]

Asgore dips his head, careful not to knock Pitch's with his massive horns, and goes around towards the stairs.

"...To the main...the ballroom?" Frisk asks, glancing back.

[boogerman]

"Yes, why not? I need to wash that ice cream out of my mouth."

[dustless]

Frisk shrugs and finishes off the one he gave them. Still don't know his problem...

"Kay. Lots of night left," they say, starting to head back the way they came. "We can explore more later, if you want to."

[boogerman]

"I might, but... I could do that tomorrow night, see." Any night he wants! He's not the boogeyman for nothing!

[dustless]

"...Mettaton probably won't be happy if he sees you do that, you know."

Without either of them pausing to push open doors, getting back takes much less time than Frisk was expecting it to.

Ever-so-politely, they open the door for Pitch.

Rather less politely, a person--a kid from Frisk's school, actually--decides to race through at that exact moment, too.

[boogerman]

"I'm used to making people unhapp--eeee!" He'd been speaking to them, looking to them instead of where he was going, and so he doesn't duck out of the way at all, whoops. The cold painful shock is like a slap in the face, making his last word (happy) turn into a weird yelp. How dignified.

The area nearby darkens, his shadow deepens, all signs he's about to flee...

[dustless]

Frisk copies his yelp. Okay, that, that was not what they thought would happen at all when they were told people who can't see him can't touch him either--

--on some thoughtless instinct, they lunge to grab his wrist with both hands.

[boogerman]

He and they are lost in the darkness for a few moments as he decides where to go, then realizes somehow the kid was dragged in to... so he heads upwards, to the roof, then crossing over back into the real world...

He allows himself another moment to try and shake off the feeling. The horror.

"Don't do that, don't grab me." His voice is shaky.

[dustless]

They release him immediately, taking a step away and clasping their hands behind their back.

Frisk's worried. They've never heard his voice like that before.

"...sorry. Wasn't--didn't think about it."

[boogerman]

"I mean if I'm leaving--do you want to go back?" Get that out of the way so he can sit down or something. Why is life.

[dustless]

"...no," they say, even though they're not sure where they are yet.

They want to ask if he's okay, but that's clearly not the case. (And that worry is not stopping.)

"You don't have to go?" they suggest in a small voice.

[boogerman]

"No. It's fine, I won't leave you stuck on the roof." He knows they're worried, but what's he supposed to do about that? Feelings are not his problem. He sits right on the edge, long legs dangling over. "I just need a moment."

[dustless]

At least they're not laughing at him, or something.

"...'s okay." They almost match him, sitting cross-legged about a foot back from said edge. "Got lots of moments. An' we can see the fireworks good from up here, if you want," they say cautiously.

[boogerman]

Laughing, playing in the snow, forgetting he exists not a half hour after he was going to hurt them all... like some other children he could name.

No, Frisk is not that.

"Yes. I'll do that, thank you."

Has he ever said thank you before to them?

[dustless]

...no, he hasn't. And that, added to their worry, leaves them speechless.

Good thing Frisk doesn't mind silence.

Or near-silence, at least. It's a few minutes before the fireworks are due to start, and they shift a little closer to the edge once they hear people filtering out onto the front lawn, their chattering drifting up to the roof and the music drifting through all the air.

[boogerman]

Breathe. Breathe. He should be used to this by now... It doesn't get any easier, knowing he's not real. Only real to the people in this town.

Not. Real. Real things don't get walked through. Real things are always solid.

Eventually he glances to his side...

"Don't fall, weirdo."