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Toriel always dreaded this day.
She'd seen it creeping forward on the calendar a month in advance, and she hated that the mere sight of the numbers was enough to sting her heart. She knew the pain of loss did not, and should not, ever fade completely. But more often than not, especially as she kept herself occupied with her many responsibilities, the anguish in her SOUL simply faded to the back of her mind, only there if and when she consciously chose to bring it forward. It wasn't often something so small as a number could drag it out.
She had made the deliberate choice to push the approaching date out of her mind. She honored those she had lost at times she set aside; if she allowed the grief to consume her, paralyze her, at any moment she happened to remember them then her current life would grind to a painful halt. Loss was an inevitable part of living, especially for any who had lived so long as her. She'd first tasted it more than a thousand years ago when her parents had passed from the world aged and content. Then she'd suffered the agony of becoming the last of her lineage during the war, when she'd lost brothers and sisters to the cruelty of human arms. She'd lost friends and she'd lost allies; her home city and most of her race; her children, by the Delta Rune, her children, and lost her husband to the depths of his own insanity and cowardice. But although the sorrows were nigh without end... and though some scars were as immortal as she was... she'd learned to be at peace with them. She had to. She lived, and life dulled the pains.
But today was her dead child's birthday, and it hurt as much as it ever had before.
Such heavy thoughts were no way to begin a day, yet still they weighed on her as she rose from bed and made her way through her morning routine. She found herself so lost in them that she'd started to put on her coat and leave for the school, only to remember a few steps down the drive that it was a Saturday and there would be no children there for her to teach. Curse the foolishness of an old distracted boss monster. The sky rumbled with the threat of rain as she gloomily retreated back indoors, cold and disappointed. She could have done with the distraction. Keeping the Ruins had been an endless task, one that simple housekeeping could not hope to replicate, and on days like this she missed having a vast catacomb to inspect upon rising from bed.
She entered the kitchen to find she was no longer the only one awake. Frisk had come downstairs while she was heading out the door, and the child was already pouring themself a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table. They had that intense look in their eyes that always seemed to be with them, as though they were perpetually deep in thought about every little thing that they encountered. Such an intelligent child, and more independent than most. Their birthday still wasn't for a couple of months. They would be thirteen then.
Chara would have been thirteen. If only...
No. No. She firmly snapped her attention back to the present. She could not, would not allow herself to sink into such melancholy at the mere sight of Frisk. She'd looked at them before and seen dead children smiling in their place. That delusion had driven her to unforgivable action. Halfway to insanity.
Her child deserved better than that.
She smiled sweetly as she approached and put a gentle paw on her child's head, ever so slightly ruffling their hair. Frisk usually grinned at the touch, but they seemed particularly distracted today, jumping and looking up at her in surprise.
"Huh? Oh--morning, Mom."
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"
Frisk didn't quite look at her, fiddling with their cereal spoon. "Um. Yeah, mostly."
She frowned at that. It had been a long time since the child had screamed in their sleep, the way they had their first months on the surface, but she couldn't help but worry that the child didn't sleep as soundly as one their age ought.
"I am sorry to hear that," she told them earnestly. "There is no school today, so feel free to make up for lost sleep with a nap, or a restful day in general."
"Yeah... I guess I'll probably do that."
They were staring down at their cereal, looking... was that melancholy? Were they in some semblance of Toriel's dismal mood today? Or was she merely projecting her misery onto them?
It must be the latter, she decided. Frisk was simply tired. That was all. She should give them their space, if not only to allow them rest, then also to avoid worrying them with her own barely concealed unhappiness.
She gave them a loving sidehug, one they leaned into without hesitation, and she turned to walk away.
"Hey, Mom?" She instantly turned back to regard them.
"Yes, my child?"
"Well, I was thinking about today and-"
And then they winced, as though suddenly struck or snapped at. Toriel's eyes widened in alarm, but Frisk only sighed and shook their head. "Never mind. I'll, um... I'll talk to you later."
With that they went back to their cereal, looking more sullen than before. Toriel felt confusion and concern in equal measure, but knew full well how fruitless it was to attempt prying anything out of them. Anything, at least, that they weren't prepared to talk about on their own terms.
"Very well... I will be in the living room. You may talk to me whenever you feel like it."
With that she left for her chair there, plucking a book on modern teaching off the shelf and settling down with it. It was a fascinating, compassionate work which she'd been consuming at a rapid pace of late, but today her eyes kept glazing over its text as her mind drifted to old memories.
A different intense and independent child. One with pale skin and red eyes, a polite voice and a sweet smile. Who played with their adoring brother every day, laughing at shared jokes, teasing him whenever they thought their parents weren't listening to their childish squabbles.
It was Chara's birthday. They'd never made it to thirteen, and the day passing hurt as much as it had every year throughout Toriel's century in exile. It hurt like Asriel's birthday. It hurt like her anniversary with Asgore. It hurt like the day both her children had died and her entire world had fallen apart.
The pain that came along with a mere day on the calendar was supposed to have faded to the back of her mind, an ache she had to will into being. It was supposed to have faded. Chara could have lived the longest life possible of their kind in the span Toriel had spent grieving them, and yet here she sat. History had flashed by, a century long enough for nations to be raised or razed, and yet still here she was. Brought low by a calendar. Nursing ancient heartache like the fresh slash of a dagger.
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed. Tears refused to burn there. She wished they would. Weeping was a way to release your sorrows before they tore a SOUL apart from the inside. But sorrows had clearly rent hers beyond recognition a very, very long time ago.
It was supposed to fade.
When would it fade?
Ignoring the furious protests from the voice in their head, Frisk went to talk to their Mom.
She was still in the same reading chair she'd fallen into an hour ago, but she wasn't reading. Not really. She'd force her eyes down at it, every now and then, but she'd always stop and start staring off towards the wall after a minute, looking as bleak as the sky outside. Today had happened to fall on a weekend and she'd already gone through all the papers at the school she'd needed to sort out. The rain was coming down hard outside and she wasn't an outdoors-y kind of mom anyway. All that left her with nothing to do. Well, nothing to do but sit in place and look sad. Sadder than usual.
She didn't seem to notice when Frisk walked into the room. If they'd had any doubt about their plan it had vanished when they took another look at the state Toriel was in.
“Just. Leave. Her. Be.” Chara said again, voice curt and commanding. “You are going to make things worse.”
“Am not,” Frisk shot back. “And you can just give it a rest already! You know I don't change my mind.”
Chara let out a low groan, giving off tangible waves of frustration, dread, and embarrassment. “Does even the smallest part of you know when to leave well enough alone?”
Frisk pursed their lips, looking across the room at Toriel's distant and depressed face.
Yeah, actually, a part of them had known that. In another time, in another house, with another mom, they would have steered clear of even a whiff of someone in a bad mood. But this was different. This was Toriel. And today was a special day that should have been a party, not a quiet gray day with no noise but the patter of rain on the roof. Frisk refused to just slink away and join their mother and their headmate's despair.
“Hey, Mom?”
It took her a moment to snap out of whatever line of thought she'd trailed down, but the change was instant when she had. She smiled widely, maybe a little too widely, and her voice was cheery... maybe a little too cheery. Like everyone else she thought she could hide her problems from Frisk. Like everyone else she was wrong.
“Yes, my child? Did you need something?”
“Not really,” Frisk admitted. “Um. I was just thinking, maybe we could do something special today?”
Toriel's smile vanished, replaced by a puzzled frown. Chara by now had completely given up and was bunkering down in Frisk's head, tensing up like they were expecting a bomb or a tornado. Actually, Chara would probably be pretty chill about those. They expected this to be much worse.
“Something special?” Toriel asked slowly. “Why today?”
Dang. They shouldn't have said it like that. Frisk decided to play dumb.
“Why not today?” they asked, making their voice as innocent as they possibly could. “I'm just thinking, it's a cloudy day, and no one can come over, and you don't seem busy, so I was thinking... it'd be nice to do something. Y'know, like bake or something. We haven't done anything like that in a while...”
Toriel's gaze was piercing, but she started to nod slowly in understanding. Playing dumb worked. Frisk could probably explain away knowing what today's date was, but wanting to do something fun to celebrate it would be a lot harder to explain. Even trying to would come close to breaking their promise to keep Chara's secrets, and they'd never do that.
And this was already dangerous, since Toriel looked undecided. It would be so easy for her to say that she had other things to take care of, or that she didn't have the right ingredients, or even that she just wasn't in the mood today. The last one especially would torpedo Frisk's plans and make Chara feel like they'd been proven right, which would make them both smug and depressed in the way that only Chara could pull off. Mom's face was starting to lean dangerously towards giving that worst possible answer. Frisk felt desperate enough to play their most powerful card. They widened their eyes and put their lips ever so slightly together. Just enough to look like a hurt puppy, but not enough to look like a full-on pout.
“Oh, dirty trick,” Chara said in disgust.
Frisk ignored them. It was working. Toriel was a very, very smart mom who saw through every other trick in their book, but Frisk had invented this one just for her. She'd gone too long without a kid to dote on and being begged to do just that was impossible for her to turn down. She had no defenses against it.
So she eventually relented with a tired smile. “We haven't in a while, have we? Very well, Frisk. Since it means so much to you.”
Her book was placed to the side as she stood straight and made for the kitchen, a victorious Frisk right behind her. Unfortunately the voice in Frisk's head was still being dragged along much more reluctantly, dripping with disgust.
“She doesn't want to do this,” they said again. Their voice was like acid. “She wanted to be left alone. But no. You had to guilt trip her.”
Instead of answering right away Frisk stared pointedly at Toriel from behind, as she began thoughtfully bringing mixing bowls from the cupboards and pulling a book of recipes from off the shelf. The rain still pattered on the roof and closed windows, but Frisk thought the day had already gotten a little less gray.
Chara seemed to catch their point even without them having to say it. Their presence seemed to become a little less cold, but they sighed nonetheless.
“Maybe... a distraction could do her some good. It was still risky. And I asked you over and over not to do anything for me.”
“...I know,” Frisk answered, a little guiltily. “I'm not trying to make you upset. It's just... I don't want to sit around miserable all day.”
“I should never have told you what today was.”
“You'd still be glum about it. And so would Mom.”
“Hmmph.”
Trying to be nice to Chara had turned into arguing with them fast, which happened way too often. Feeling sheepish, Frisk gave a gentle touch to the back of their hand.
“Listen, Chara—if you don't want me to do something for you, okay. I won't. But Mom's already cheering up. She likes being busy. So will you forgive me if I do this for her?”
Quiet for a moment, watching Toriel open the fridge and count the eggs in a carton. It would be hard for anyone to argue that she didn't look better doing what she loved than she had sitting in the living room with that cloud over her head. Even if that cloud wasn't fully gone just yet.
“...of course,” Chara said finally. “I always do. Just... please be careful.”
“Of course,” Frisk said, grinning. “I always am!”
That got them a disbelieving snort, but Toriel spoke before they could continue.
“We do not seem to be running low on anything, and there are quite a few recipes in here I have been meaning to try. Do you have any ideas?”
Cake!
...was the obvious answer. Chara had just told them to be careful, though. This was a regular day, not a party.
“Cupcakes!” they suggested. They felt strongly that Chara wanted to roll their eyes at them. Toriel just raised an eyebrow.
“I was considering something with less sugar. You had cereal this morning, and pancakes yesterday.”
“Yeah, but I only poured syrup over the top one,” Frisk argued. “They were basically plain.”
From the look on her face Toriel didn't think that sounded like as good of an argument as Frisk did. Their pleading look wouldn't work twice in a row, so they took a different action.
“...I'll brush my teeth right after,” they promised. Toriel gave a sigh that just barely hid the amused smile on her snout.
“Very well. Only since we haven't baked anything special in some time. We are having another look at your diet soon.”
That felt ominous, but Toriel didn't give them much time to process that.
“What flavor should they be?”
Given who this treat was secretly for, there was only one right answer to a question like that. It only took a second for Frisk to answer.
“Lemon,” they said with confidence.
“Lemon?!” a predictably outraged voice blurted out in their head. “Have you lost your peanut of a mind?”
Frisk barely kept the smooth smirk they were feeling off their face. “I thought this wasn't supposed to be for you.”
“Well... I mean...” Chara stammered, caught in a trap and smart enough to know it. “...since you are doing it anyway... we might as well... ugh. Just answer correctly before she finds the lemon zest.”
“Actually, wait, chocolate,” Frisk said out loud, as though changing their mind. Toriel tutted quietly as she started flipping backwards in her book back to the chocolate recipes. It wasn't a weird request—Frisk liked chocolate. They liked almost everything. It just happened to have a top-secret second use as a top-notch Chara-pleaser.
“Here is one,” Toriel said after another moment of flipping pages. “Would you break two eggs into a bowl for us?”
Frisk was happy to oblige, rushing to collect the eggs and a great big bowl to put them in. They weren't as crazy about cooking as Toriel or Chara were, but cracking eggs was fun. They'd even gotten pretty good at it! Or, well... good enough that Toriel had asked Frisk to crack eggs for her when they were cooking for that luncheon at the community center. Yeah, the only other options who weren't already busy were Sans and Undyne and Sans was asleep and Undyne was... Undyne, but hey, Frisk had still been her number one choice and that was pretty cool.
Frisk only got three bits of eggshell into the bowl that they noticed, and they fished all of them out before Toriel could notice. They felt like Chara wasn't as impressed with them as they should be, but being pleased with themself would be enough for today. After all, if Mom had asked Undyne there'd be yolk dripping from the ceiling right now, and that was best case scenario.
They kept at it for a while, adding all the wet ingredients Mom called out to them while she mixed the dry ones together. Minute by minute, ingredient by ingredient, she sounded a little further away from that awful gray cloud that had hung over her this morning. Baking was one of her great passions, right next to teaching, and hanging out in the kitchen teaching someone how to bake was doing exactly what Frisk had hoped it would.
She wasn’t the only one, either. They could feel Chara get more and more into it as they went; Chara got antsy about cooking whenever Frisk tried to make anything alone, but having Mom around to make sure everything went smoothly seemed to keep the anxieties and bad memories at bay. It was especially nice to feel Chara getting excited. It was so hard getting them to perk up on days when they woke up determined to be miserable. But it was so worth it.
Soon they were pouring the dry stuff and the wet stuff into the same bowl, and Mom gave them the ultimate show of trust and confidence by putting them in charge of stirring it. She herself turned around to do something else, while Frisk kept beating it together into a smooth chocolatey paste with enthusiasm.
“She's not looking,” Chara's voice cut through, sudden and direct. “Take a taste.”
“...I'm sorry, what?” Frisk asked, incredulous. “This has raw eggs in it.”
“The dangers of eating raw eggs are overblown,” Chara said without missing a beat. "Why else would eggnog exist? Take a taste before she turns around.”
“Yeeeeah, that's not gonna happen.”
“This. This is where you draw the line?” Chara's tone was flat. “You ate the quiche we found under a bench.”
“A cooked quiche,” Frisk countered. “I'm not an animal.”
“There was MOSS on the plate.”
“Didn't eat that either. What kind of freak eats moss?”
Toriel at last turned around, triggering a loud and overblown sigh from Chara over the lost opportunity. But it didn't last long. She'd come back with a muffin tray and a stack of liners, and they were soon busy laying out the liners and pouring the creamy chocolate batter into each one. Toriel was once again paws-off, letting Frisk be the one to actually do the pouring. They bit their lip in concentration as they worked.
By this point most of the disgruntled worrywart was gone from Chara's voice. They sounded excited and commanding.
“Remember. Each liner is only to be filled halfway,” they instructed. “The mix will expand in the oven due to the baking powder, our leavening agent. The moisture mixed with the baking powder produces bubbles of carbon dioxide gas, which will heat up in the oven and begin to rise.”
“You sound just like Mom when she's teaching, y'know.” Frisk said playfully. Though they did make sure they were following the instruction. “I don't have to know about the science behind it, Professor Chara.”
“Ha ha. I may have learned from her, but I am my own person."
“Oh, good,” Toriel said suddenly. “I just realized I had forgotten to tell you to fill them only halfway, but it seems you have already read that part.”
She was smiling with that special excitement she got only got about cooking. “You see, the mix will expand in the oven due to the baking powder, our leavening agent. The moisture mixed with the baking powder... hmm? What is so funny?”
Frisk was struggling not to snicker, which was hard to do with a half-annoyed Chara telling them to shut up. “Sorry Mom. You just... kinda sounded like this book I read.”
“I see.” She looked confused, but her smile didn't waver long. “Well then. You tell me why the batter will rise.”
Uh oh.
“Uh... bubbles,” Frisk said after a moment. The presence in their head had turned on a dime, going from irritated to smug. Frisk could tell they weren't going to be getting any help here. “It's uh, bubbles. Reeeeaally tiny bubbles. They float up and make it go all poofy.”
Toriel laughed. It was a sweet sound, especially after how sad she looked this morning. “Very good. I can see you have been studying.”
“No. Professor Chara presents you with a failing grade. I will see you after class.”
Frisk didn't even try to keep the grin off their face. They finished divvying up the batter and gave the tray to their mom, who slid it into the open oven and conjured a ring of tiny fireballs underneath. She never used the actual knobs on the stove. She was very good with fire magic. Humans probably hadn't invented any ovens that were better than what she could do with her spells, since she'd been baking things for longer than most countries had been around.
For just the second that the oven door was open Frisk was exposed to the magic, and their SOUL flickered in their chest. Everyone's did around magic... and Frisk usually jumped or tensed up when it happened. Especially with fire. Mom's fire.
...but today, to their surprise, they barely thought about it, and then only after the oven was already shut. That was a long time ago. They trusted Toriel, and they were excited enough about the cupcakes that nothing could spoil their spirit. They stood ready and smiling.
“Okay, what's next?”
"We can work on the frosting while the cakes themselves bake."
"Very efficient," Chara said in approval. "Mother knows best."
They got to work immediately, and since there were no raw eggs to worry about, Frisk let Chara be the devil on their shoulder and tempt them into a couple of tastes while Toriel's back was turned. It was soooo good. Maybe too good, since when the bowl got taken away from them to put in the fridge they were left with the taste of sugar in their mouth and several more minutes before they could have the full dish.
But those last minutes ticked away fast, and before they knew it the timer was ringing and Toriel was pulling the cupcakes out of the oven, the kitchen filling with the sweet smell of chocolate and fresh baked goodness. By now Frisk was ravenous.
Toriel expertly tested one's sponginess with a thermometer. There was triumph in her eyes.
“I do believe these came out precisely as intended,” she said happily. “We'll allow them to cool, and then all that is left is adding the frosting.”
“And eating them,” Frisk added.
“And eating them,” Toriel said with a laugh. “One at a time, mind you. The rest go in the fridge.”
Frisk poked their lip out and was about to argue, but she tutted and cut them off.
“You cannot eat an entire tray of cupcakes in one sitting. If you were a grown adult I would still intervene for your own well-being.” That was probably fair. Frisk didn't get a chance to come up with any more arguments anyway before Toriel went on. She was still smiling, but her lips were quirked up in a mischievous way. Her eyes regarded Frisk's face with that knowing shine that said that, as she did so often, she saw right through them. “And do not think using those hurt puppy eyes of yours will get you anywhere this time.”
Dang. So she'd figured out the last trick in their book after all. She was smarter than most grown-ups, Frisk had to give her that. Their cheeks went warm, but she playfully ruffled their hair in that adoringly affectionate way of hers, and they couldn't help but smile back. So they just got to work cleaning the kitchen while the cupcakes cooled. With both of them on the job it was back to its usual spotless condition in no time. Just in time for the cupcakes to be cool enough to work with.
Frosting cupcakes was a lot of fun. Toriel's handling of the butterknife was elegant and precise, and you could see the care she put into every last one from how pretty all of hers were. Frisk's handling of theirs was... well, it involved a little more dolloping haphazardly and trying not to let too much of the precious frosting fly off the knife and into the air. But they did try to smooth out the top a little just so they didn't completely ruin what Mom was going for. If she thought the ones that Frisk had decorated were ugly, she never said a word or showed it in her eyes, complimenting them and smiling at the finished work in pride.
Finally they were at the end of the line. A beautiful platter sat on the table, covered in fully frosted, fully edible, one hundred percent ready to get devoured cupcakes all in front of them. Frisk's mouth was watering and their stomach was growling—and since they shared everything they felt, that meant Chara was just as eager. They couldn't wait one moment longer.
“Just one moment longer,” Toriel said, and Frisk and Chara both died instantly. Okay, not really died. That usually felt a bit worse. But it halfway felt like it. Still, they couldn't be too mad at the proud satisfaction on Toriel's face as she fished her enormous phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of the cupcakes. She barely posted on social media at all, but when she did, it was baking photos and bad jokes. Sometimes both at once. It made her happy, so they were both content to be patient a little longer to let her get her pictures.
And it did give Frisk a good chance to say something important.
“Well, since we have a second anyway...” Frisk hesitated. They didn't want to risk making Chara mad and ruining the moment, but they also... really, really wanted to say this. They decided to take the risk. “...happy birthday, Chara.”
Silence. When their partner spoke again their voice came through clipped and cold. “I don't have birthdays. I'm not alive. I don't get older.”
Frisk sighed. That was about what they expected. Could have been worse. Could have been a lot better. They wanted to be annoyed—Chara always had to be a downer about everything, and they always had to shoot them down when they were just trying to be nice. But... well. They were too sad to be annoyed. What did you say to your best friend, if 'happy birthday' just reminded them they weren't allowed to be happy?
“...whatever you want to call it,” Frisk said softly. “I just wanted to say... it was a lot of fun doing this with you. I'm glad you were born.”
Another flash of feelings. But this time, none of that complicated mess on Chara's side of the head seemed to be anger. Or if it was, not at Frisk. There was warmth there. Chara loved them and it was impossible to hide it. There was sadness there. Even on a good day Chara thought they'd be better off dead. They couldn't hide that from Frisk either. But also, very strongly right now, there was impatience, probably 'cause Mom was putting her phone away and those chocolate cupcakes were right there and they could be eating one already.
The feelings had their little war, and Chara answered quietly, and awkwardly, and Frisk thought, adorably.
“...thank you, Frisk. I... appreciate it. Everything.”
Frisk smiled. There was nothing else to say that was worth more than their next action. The very second Mom gave the go ahead, Frisk scooped one up and bit into it, and both their and Chara's thoughts got washed away in a wave of perfect chocolate goodness.
How was it everything Mom touched was so good, even if she was just following a recipe, and letting someone as clumsy and careless as Frisk do half the work? That was a mystery they'd never know the answer to. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that they had a mouth full of chocolate cupcake and it was basically heaven. Chara had completely melted in blissful satisfaction. And Toriel was smiling proudly, a far cry from the sorry sight she was this morning.
This day couldn't be called perfect. It had started miserable, and there was so much that Frisk just couldn't do to make this family truly happy again. No matter how much they wanted to. No matter how hard they'd tried.
But... Frisk thought today was turning into something pretty good anyway.
The patter of rain was quieting, storm clouds rolling elsewhere. Though she had nowhere to be but home Toriel nonetheless welcomed the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen windows. It cast the room and the day itself with a more joyous light than before... as well as offered better lighting for her to attempt to capture the cupcakes with the technological marvel that was her phone. Photography was a more intricate art than any school of sorcery she'd ever attempted, one she could easily spend another hundred years before mastering, but she was nonetheless pleased with the image she captured. And judging from Frisk's look of contentment and eager chomping, it seemed they were quite pleased with the product itself.
She enjoyed one herself, noting a few small ways the recipe could be improved, but otherwise simply enjoying the moment.
This was... perhaps something she'd forgotten. All that time in the Ruins she'd learned only to drown her grief in monotony. Even before then, before she and Asgore had decided to start a lineage, she'd spent so many years throwing herself headfirst into organizing the kingdom. Her desire to better their subjects' lives was earnest, of course, but if she were to be honest she had longed to distract herself from the dreariness of their race's confinement.
Distraction. Endless, endless distraction. Was that all she had learned? To treat each moment in the present as a drug for dulling the past? As though each moment was not meaningful in its own right?
Frisk was nearing the final chomp of their cupcake, and there was only so much time they could spend cleaning their fingers before attempting to scheme their way towards a second and third. Toriel deftly rose from her seat and made sure the pan was removed from the table and tucked into the fridge with a neat layer of foil. Out of sight, out of mind.
When she returned Frisk was done eating and now eyeing the empty place where the pan had been with some disappointment, which Toriel averted by leaning into them with a gentle sidehug. They returned it happily, letting out a sigh which seemed both resignation to the end of their pastry indulgence and genuine contentment.
"I enjoyed this very much," she told them in a soft voice. She pulled away slightly to look them in the eyes, still smiling fondly. "It was kind of you to seek to distract me."
At that Frisk's face went suddenly, guardedly neutral. The little rogue would do well in certain disreputable card games. "Uh, I don't know..."
"We both know what day it is," Toriel said quietly. Frisk did not respond directly to that. They looked awkwardly, even guiltily aside, before giving the slightest of nods. Toriel pulled them slightly closer, resting her forehead lovingly against theirs.
"It is alright. In truth it was not distraction I needed but a reminder. A reminder that life goes on, and that there is no greater treasure than spending it with those I love."
She would never share a kitchen with Chara again. That simple fact was agonizing, but it would not hurt like it did were it not for how much the time they had spent together meant to her. The fleeting years she'd spent with her children stood out so strongly precisely because of how monumentally happy she had been, and there was no reason she could not be so monumentally happy now.
"Love you, Mom," Frisk murmured.
"I love you too, Frisk," she said, and meant it more than anything. She let go and straightened to her full height. "Now brush your teeth."
Frisk blinked at the sudden change in subject, and then made a face. "I thought you'd forget."
Toriel laughed. "My child, I forget nothing. You will be glad of that when you are wizened and gray and have all of your teeth."
They sighed melodramatically and stood to make the defeated march upstairs, but stopped a moment in the doorway of the kitchen.
"...hey, uh... in a minute do you want to read a book or something together?"
"I would like that very much."
They smiled at her, and for a moment, there was something so familiar in that smile, those hopeful eyes. They disappeared into the next room and Toriel closed her eyes, allowing herself to be content.
She missed Chara. She missed Asriel. Angel help her, she missed Asgore. But today she had Frisk, and today she was happy.
Perhaps next year she wouldn't dread this day.