napstabae

The thing about Frisk, Blooky thought, was that they listened. They noticed.
It had happened one day, out of the blue. Mettaton was still gone but that was okay, it was always okay, and Blooky was in Toriel's attic. That was his usual haunt and if ever anyone wanted to find him (nobody ever did, he was sure he was non-existent to everyone) they would have to climb the ladder and navigate the boxes of junk Toriel seemed to hoard. In amongst the junk the boy would sit, oblivious to the outside world. Sometimes, if it was beyond dark and somebody had noticed his arrival, there would be a rap on the hatch to remind him to go home to his empty apartment.
This time, the knock came earlier. It was lighter and he didn't hear it the first time. The knock came again and he opened his eyes, roused from his state of garbage-ness. Cautiously he got to his feet and padded over to the hatch.
"...who's there...?"
Another knock, and he knew it was Frisk. Mostly because anyone else would have said something by now, and also nobody else would bother to climb the ladder.
So he opened the hatch, gingerly, and let the child climb in. Once they'd found a space to sit, they looked at him solemnly.
"Where-is-your-cousin?" Frisk signed.
He didn't have an adequate answer.
The child sat there, staring at him, until he replied.
"...i...don't know... but i'm just about sixteen... i can look after myself..."
"That's-mean-of-him."
"...he's following his dreams..." Blooky muttered, defensively. But deep down, he wondered- do you really have to hurt someone to become a star?
"Do-you-miss-him?"
It was as if this question were a pin, and he a balloon. It popped his tough exterior, and suddenly he was in tears.
"Is-he-coming-home?"
"...i don't... i don't know..." Here he was, in an acquaintance's attic, trying foolishly and desperately not to see what kind of person his cousin was. He had never felt so pathetic.
"He-has-to. Let-mom-help."
"...i'm sure he'll... be back... he promised... after all..."
"How-long?"
Blooky shifted uncomfortably. He looked at the calendar on the wall- it was always accurate, for some reason. He wondered if Toriel did that for him.
"...three months, maybe...? i think... it could be four...."
"I-won't-tell-I-swear."
The boy breathed a sigh of relief, and ruffled Frisk's hair.
"But-if-the-others-find-out-they-won't-be-happy."
With that, Frisk stood up and carefully made their way across the maze of miscellaneous crap and opened the hatch. A far off voice called for bedtime and they rolled their eyes, before carefully climbing down.
Blooky took that as his cue to leave and started to gather his things up. He couldn't gather his thoughts as easily- he couldn't help but wonder what his cousin was up to right now. He hoped it was nice, at least.
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section where blooky gets back i can't even
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He finished his chores, and settled down in front of the TV to watch his favourite show, the MTT show. It was a rerun (the TV guide said MTT was away visiting family) but that was okay. Everything was okay when he was wrapped up in the action packed drama filled half hour. Everything was okay until--
The door opened.
Blooky sat there, engulfed in a blanket and rigid in fear. He could hear the footsteps- the click clack of heels- and the sound of things being picked up and put down. And then there was a noise he didn't expect.
"Blooky?"