Chekilli glanced over at Wing in concern. Looking at him, now knowing things he’d gone through and especially so how he thought of himself . . . It hurt. He hurt very much for him and he just . . . he’d do anything to take all that away from him. To take away all of Wing’s pain, all of the things that had hurt him. He doubted even wishing could do much for that, at least not immediately, but there were things he could do that might be able to at least start the natural process of healing. Such as counteracting those false and horrifying thought processes and just . . . covering him with as much love as he could possibly give him.
His staring was noticed, though, and he smiled softly at Wing as the other turned to look at him and smile back. Gosh, even just seeing that smile again, after hundreds of years, was enough to make him start to tear up again. He moved closer and gave him a hug, just . . . extremely happy to just have him back again. He’d thought he’d lost him . . . and yet here he was in front of him, alive, and in his arms.
After a bit he pulled away from the hug with a fond smile, before his expression morphed into something serious. “. . . We need to talk, Wing.”
Gaster shifted uncertainly under his creator’s gaze. Did something happen? Did he do something wrong? Stars, had he already done something wrong so soon after reuniting with Chekilli? Did he not like that he and Pearl had a soul bond after all? Was he mad at him? He, he’d become too comfortable in the Underground, acting as if he was anything other than his creator’s assistant simply because his creator hadn’t been around to be assisted, and now he must have annoyed him or stars forbid angered him by doing something wrong. What in the world was wrong with him?
Chekilli scanned Wing’s face, extremely concerned at the alarm and even fear he saw in there. What had they done to him? “Hey,” he said softly, lifting his hand to cup the skeleton’s face. “Hey, hey, Wing. It’s okay. You’re not in trouble or anything. Nothing’s wrong. You’re more than good, actually.”
Gaster hesitated. Had . . . had he really done nothing wrong? Then what did Chekilli want to talk to him about?
His creator sighed. “You know I love you, right?”
“OF COURSE . . .” Where was this going? Why would he preface with this if Gaster had done nothing wrong? What was going on?
“. . . I’ve been told you don’t exactly think the best of yourself.”
He froze. How did he find out about that, he wasn’t supposed to find out about that. He knew it sounded bad and he hadn’t wanted to worry him, even if he felt it to be true. Had . . . had Pearl told him? She was the only one who really knew much about it that Chekilli had met. And she’d told him multiple times over that it wasn’t true so of course she’d talk to his creator about it. Stars . . .
Wing’s expression told Chekilli all he needed to know. Not only was it confirmation that this was in fact a thing, but also that Wing hadn’t been expecting him to know about it and likely had had no intention of telling him. Both of which were incredibly concerning. How long had this been going on? How long had he been suffering through all of this? How long?
He dropped his hand from Wing’s face, instead taking both of his hands in his and squeezing them earnestly. “You’re worth just as much as any other person, Wing. You’re worth just as much as me, as Grillby, as your sons, as Pearl, as everyone else. That is an objective fact.” He hesitated, then asked, “. . . What makes you think you’re so much less than everyone else?”
Gaster hesitated, not . . . not really sure what to do with what was being said. Pearl had already gone over this with him, but it still didn’t exactly feel true and right now, face-to-face with his creator, he didn’t really believe it. Especially not that he was worth as much as Chekilli was. But he was asked a question by his creator, so he needed to answer it. “. . . I WAS MADE AS YOUR ASSISTANT,” he said slowly, uncertainly. “THAT’S . . . WHAT I AM. I’M JUST . . . SIDE HELP. STARS, I DIDN’T EVEN COMPLETELY COME OUT HOW YOU WANTED . . .” How could he be worth as much as everyone else? How could he be worth as much as Chekilli?
Well. That was extremely concerning. “That’s not all your are, though. Geez, Wing, if all I’d wanted was an assistant I wouldn’t have completely tied up my magic into solely creating and taking care of you for four years. If all I’d wanted was an assistant I’d have just asked someone else in the village.” He squeezed his hands again. “I wanted you, Wing. I wanted you as a person. If anything the assistant thing was just an excuse for me to make you, not the reason. I love you, Wing, for everything that you are. For who you are. Not what you were made for. Put me in the same situation but without a need for someone to help me? I still would have made you. I’d been thinking about you years before I actually started prepping for you. I don’t care what you were made for. And I certainly don’t care that you didn’t come out exactly how I pictured. That’s on me, not you. You were my first monster, Wing, I was inexperienced and I overachieved. So no, I don’t care about that. I care about you. I care about you, and who you are now, not what I initially imagined you to be.”
Gaster had . . . well, he had no idea how to respond to any of that, left speechless at the whole thing. But as his creator kept talking, tears pricked at his eyes, and he quickly started wiping them away. Stars, he did not need to start crying in front of Chekilli. But he had no idea what to do with this, this utter and complete love that he was giving him, with words completely contradictory to what he’d believed for hundreds of years now. Instead of everything he’d been worrying about upon Chekilli discovering that something was wrong with him, instead of the annoyance, and disappointment, all he got was just . . . just pure love, and he had no idea what to do with that. Stars, if he could just not. CRY, though.
His attempts at wiping away his tears were stopped when Chekilli grabbed his wrists. “It’s okay, Wing. You can cry. Nothing’s wrong with crying, and nothing’s wrong with you. I love you, Wing, with all of my heart.”
Gaster hesitated, then fell into a hug with him, crying softly into his shoulder. Stars, he just . . . he did not deserve having Chekilli as his creator. He really didn’t. But he was so, so lucky to have him. He could still scarcely believe that he’d just been so . . . accepting of him and everything he’d done wrong. And loving. He had no idea what to do with it.
“It’s okay, Wing,” Chekilli said softly, holding his son close. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here for you now, and I love you. Nothing’s going to happen to you here.” As he listened to his tears, his expression hardened, staring into the distance. How dare they do this to Wing. How dare they hurt him like this. He hoped, for their sakes, that none of the Monster Hunters were still alive, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if he ever came across them again.
When Wing finally pulled away, he gave him a soft smile, then paused. “. . . You know, being an assistant was never an obligation, but if you’re having so much trouble with this, then I formally release you from the purpose you were made for.”
Gaster spluttered, startled at the declaration. “WHA- YOU- YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”
“Says who? I’m the one who created you, aren’t I? I can get rid of or change your purpose as I please. So it’s gone now! Goodbye! No more of this assistant stuff! Your new purpose is to just be yourself, with the addition of taking care of yourself, and that’s it.”
Gaster opened and closed his mouth several times, wanting to say something against that but not finding any words or reasoning to back him up. Chekilli wasn’t wrong, he was his creator, he could just do that. But he had no idea how to respond to it.
His purpose was to be himself? What was he supposed to do with that? So much of himself and how he thought of himself was based around being an assistant, being someone who helped. What was he supposed to do now? Who . . . Who was he without that? He looked at him helplessly. “I . . . I DON’T . . . KNOW . . . HOW . . . ?”
Chekilli frowned. “. . . You don’t know how for which part?”
“I . . . I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SET MYSELF APART FROM MY PURPOSE . . . UH, MY . . . PREVIOUS PURPOSE?” That was . . . That was really weird to think about, that he wasn’t supposed to act as that anymore. He. He didn’t know what to do with himself.
Well that was concerning. “. . . Well, let’s see. The Wing I know is in love with the night sky. He’s very curious and likes learning new things and takes very well to it. He’s fascinated with magic. He’s a very caring person, to all creatures. And apparently he’s quite accomplished if he’s now the top scientist amidst all monsters. Wing, you’re so much more than what your purpose has been. You’re so much apart from that. And I love you for that. Not because of what you’ve done to fulfill your purpose, but because of who you are.”
Gaster . . . supposed . . . But he still wasn’t sure what to do with all that, so he latched onto the one thing he did know he could respond to. “BECOMING THE ROYAL SCIENTIST WAS SHEER LUCK. I WAS JUST IN THE RIGHT PLACE AT THE RIGHT TIME, AND THERE WEREN’T MANY MONSTERS LEFT TO COMPETE. THAT WASN’T ME.”
What . . . Was Wing’s first reaction to a compliment immediately denying it? He was just getting a worse and worse picture of how badly he was in this thought process . . . “Wing, you figured out how to make magic artificially. You created something that allowed monsters to thrive in a situation designed to stifle them into dust. And who knows what else you’ve made? That was you, Wing. That is you. And none of that is staying on the sidelines as a mere assistant to everybody else.”
Gaster hesitated. Was that true? Was that him, unconnected to his purpose? Was it good for him to not be connected to it? It was what he was made for, after all . . . But Chekilli was changing that now. He was giving him a new purpose. And he still felt like he was flailing without a grip to latch onto. “E- . . EVEN IF ALL THAT IS TRUE, HOW . . . HOW WOULD I EVEN TURN THAT INTO A PURPOSE? HOW . . . WHAT WOULD I EVEN DO?”
“You do whatever you want to do, Wing. Do what you enjoy. And don’t try to help others more than you’re able. I’m not telling you to never help them, helping people is part of your personality, but you don’t have to put them above yourself, and especially not to the point of actually harming yourself.”
“BUT WHAT IF THEY NEED IT?” Gaster said immediately. “I CAN’T JUST LEAVE THEM WITHOUT HELP IF THEY NEED IT.” And he still felt like he wasn’t really worth that much . . . Pearl, Chekilli, and his therapist had been trying to tell him otherwise, but it still felt like . . .
“If they need it, and if helping would result in harming you, then ask somebody else to help instead. It’s okay to let others help instead. And if it’s not an immediate problem, then you could also just wait until you’re doing better, until you can handle it without being hurt by it yourself. And along those lines, it’s okay to let others help you. You don’t have to do things by yourself. Humans and monsters are social creatures, Wing. We’re not meant to go through things on our own. It’s okay to let others help you, too. Okay?”
“I . . . I . . . O-OKAY.” He . . . couldn’t really figure out any other excuses, and he still wasn’t sure what to do with this. Suddenly changing his purpose . . . That was a big change, and he hadn’t been expecting it, much less prepared for it. He . . . was going to need some time to process it. He was supposed to just . . . be himself? That was it? Be himself and take care of himself? Stars . . .
Chekilli smiled softly at him, squeezing his hands before letting him go. “Good.” He knew releasing him from his purpose wouldn’t stop him from wanting to help others; of course not, that was ingrained into his very being. He’d intentionally made him a very kind person who liked to help. But he didn’t want him to consider himself lower than others because of it, and especially not less of a person.
He didn’t even know how much this would help. It had to be a deeply ingrained thought process if it had lasted for so long and was as bad as Pearl seemed to think. But hopefully getting rid of his purpose like that would at least kick the logic out from underneath it and start that process of healing.
He really shouldn’t have overachieved with Wing, if the results had given him this much insecurity over himself. Well, no, most of this had come from what the Monster Hunters had done to him, but he had no idea if Wing had ever been feeling any bit of this even before the war and simply hadn’t said anything. He hoped he hadn’t . . .
“. . . Wing, be honest with me. Even before the war, had I ever done anything that ever gave you any impression that any of this, this thinking lesser of yourself was true?”
“WHAT? NO, NO, YOU WERE . . . YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN AMAZING, CHEKILLI. YOU NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG.”
He scanned his face, wishing they’d still had the soul bond so he could actually tell whether he was being truthful on this or not. Knowing how his son thought of himself currently, Chekilli was worried that he was simply saying that to avoid making him feel bad. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? Don’t worry about my feelings. I just want to know if there’s anything I need to avoid in the future. I don’t ever want to hurt you, Wing, and if I ever did in the past then I want to know.”
“IT’S FINE, CHEKILLI. YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.” He never felt less before the war. The war is what opened his eyes to his flaws. Or . . . or . . . it’s what . . . gave him . . . false ideas . . . ? Everyone he’d talked to about it seemed to think they were false, anyway . . . They certainly didn’t feel false . . .
“. . . Okay. Okay, good. Just . . . tell me if I ever do, alright? Or, if you can’t bring yourself to, then tell someone else.” He was well aware of the potential power imbalance between creator and created - heck, he’d just used that to change Wing’s purpose, though hopefully for the better - and he didn’t want that to tip into something bad. And communication was key to prevent that from happening.
“. . . OKAY. I’LL TRY.”
“Good. Thank you, Wing.”
The two of them fell silent for a moment, simply . . . enjoying each other’s presence. It had been a very long time since they’d seen each other, after all, and it was just . . . it was really nice to just be with each other again. Neither had thought the other was still alive, and it was incredible to have each other back again.
But the whole creator/created thing was bothering Chekilli still. The dynamic really didn’t seem to be helping things, and while he didn’t view Wing as something he could just . . . do whatever he wanted with because he was his own thing he created, and he absolutely didn’t view him as property, it was starting to seem like Wing might be viewing him as such, as someone who held that kind of control over him, and that was extremely concerning. Was there any way they could change that? Like he had with Wing’s purpose? Any way to get rid of that? Well . . . the only thing actually tying the two of them together, the soul bond, was already gone. Maybe bring his attention to that? And to the way Chekilli viewed him?
“. . . Hey, Wing,” he ventured.
“MM?”
“You’re free now. Well, you were never required to do anything due to being someone I created, but since you seem to be having trouble with this: I’m officially setting you free. It’s not like we have the soul bond anymore, anyway, so consider that the symbol of us breaking that relationship.”
“I-I, WHAT? WHAT- BUT- YOU STILL ARE THE ONE WHO CREATED ME. THAT’S NOT A THING THAT CAN BE CHANGED.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean the dynamic has to be the same. Besides, that was never how I viewed you. I never thought of you as something I could just do whatever I wanted with. You know how I thought of you? How I still think of you?”
“. . . HOW?”
He leaned forward, squeezing his hands. “As my son.”
Gaster froze, then looked away. He knew Pearl had been very insistent on that, but it still didn't feel right. There was a difference, between a monster and a child. "I’M NOT YOUR SON, CHEKILLI.”
“And why not?” he asked, slightly indignant. “It may have been by a different mechanism, but you came from my magic, and I raised you and took care of you as my own.” His gaze softened, and he cupped Wing’s face again. “I’ve always thought of you as my son, Wing. Always. Nothing is going to change that. That’s who you are to me.”
Stars, even Chekilli was being insistent about this. But that . . . that wasn’t what he was. That wasn’t at all what he was. How could he . . . How could he place him on such a high level? “WH . . . WHY? HOW? I DON’T . . . I DON’T DESERVE THAT TITLE, CHEKILLI. THAT’S NOT WHAT I AM. I’M JUST YOUR MONSTER.”
“Deserve- You absolutely deserve it, Wing! This isn’t- This isn’t something based on merit. There isn’t a way to not deserve it. It’s just what you are. It’s what you’ve always been to me.” He pulled him back into a hug. “I love you, Wing, and I absolutely consider you my son. Please, Wing. Please.”
Gaster wasn’t expecting the hug. Nor . . . nor everything that Chekilli had just told him. He was . . . he was absolutely being serious about this, wasn’t he? He had no idea what to do with that, incredulous as to the very idea of it. What was he supposed to . . . His son? He . . . He really thought of him that highly? That was . . . That was a lot, and he started to cry again, clinging to Chekilli as he did. How could he just . . . be so kind like this? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t. But . . . he couldn’t deny how good it made him feel, to be considered as such. Even if it was hardly believable.
Eventually, Chekilli pulled away. “We’re getting rid of this whole creator-created thing, alright? Don’t call me your creator anymore. I’m your dad, now, or any variation of that that you might want to call me. Alright?”
Gaster hesitated, but then . . . slowly nodded. It felt . . . extremely weird, and not-right, but he couldn’t figure out a way to really deny it and get him to not do this. So he just . . . had to accept it.
Thank the stars. Chekilli slid his hands down to take Wing’s, squeezing them gently as he spoke. “Good. Good. I love you Wing. You know that?”
He nodded again, speaking quietly. “. . . I know. I love you, too.”
