[Their lips remain parted as Frisk thinks on it, brow furrowing. They know he feels bad for what he's done, and they've forgiven him; discarded it easily in the wake of what's new, what's now. They know he hasn't forgiven them. It's over. They know. Some things just aren't reciprocated. Some things never should be.]
The other Frisk's.
I can't do what they did.
[You shouldn't have to settle for second best, Sans. Not even that.]
no subject
[Their lips remain parted as Frisk thinks on it, brow furrowing. They know he feels bad for what he's done, and they've forgiven him; discarded it easily in the wake of what's new, what's now.
They know he hasn't forgiven them. It's over. They know.
Some things just aren't reciprocated. Some things never should be.]
The other Frisk's.
I can't do what they did.
[You shouldn't have to settle for second best, Sans. Not even that.]