It hurts. Chara's hand closes on Frisk's hand like a vice, but they're holding on almost as tightly. Certainly with the same desperation, the same bone-deep fear and need that leaves them light-headed.

"Ch...Chara..."

Another step, and suddenly their free arm is flung around Chara to pull them close, to hold tight and never let go. They can almost smell the flowers again, a smell like death and life and too many things to name. Frisk buries their face in Chara's shoulder, and they don't know if they've started to laugh or cry.

"I-I thought you were gone--!"