[It's not hard to hear the longing behind that simple phrase, and immediately Frisk regrets pointing it out. Their lips press thin, and their hand clenches up into the fabric of their sleeping bag.]
Don't.
[A plea? A warning?]
[Or a promise?]
[They won't go anywhere Chara isn't anymore. They already decided that.]
no subject
Don't.
[A plea? A warning?]
[Or a promise?]
[They won't go anywhere Chara isn't anymore. They already decided that.]