[They stop walking and look at the ground. Swallowing, Frisk picks at their sleeve nervously.]
[They don't, actually. They don't want anyone touching them. They hurt and they're gross and they're bad, they're so bad that even Chara hates them now. They don't want anyone to have anything to do with them. That split second was selfish, and stupid, and just because they know what it feels like to be wanted sometimes now doesn't mean]
[they should ask to be.]
[but they turn around and reach up again, grabbing Tim's fingers and keeping their eyes down, looking away. His hand is warm and soft and naked and human; smells like - like - no hand they know. Not cinnamon, or bones, or dust, or blood. Something in that is wrong, but they don't mind. It's something. It's anything. It's Tim.]
no subject
[They don't, actually. They don't want anyone touching them. They hurt and they're gross and they're bad, they're so bad that even Chara hates them now. They don't want anyone to have anything to do with them. That split second was selfish, and stupid, and just because they know what it feels like to be wanted sometimes now doesn't mean]
[they should ask to be.]
[but they turn around and reach up again, grabbing Tim's fingers and keeping their eyes down, looking away. His hand is warm and soft and naked and human; smells like - like - no hand they know. Not cinnamon, or bones, or dust, or blood. Something in that is wrong, but they don't mind. It's something. It's anything. It's Tim.]
[They won't move again, until he does.]