@playertwosquipedâ
Gaster was nearly at the end of his rope with the stress of the Coreâs destabilization. It was his own fault, of course, and he never should have attempted crossing over to another universe, but now he had to deal with the consequences. Which, terrifyingly, were that the one thing allowing monsters to spread and grow further into the Underground was no longer consistently working and could very well lead to the magical suffocation of all of those that lived anywhere but the two ends of the cavern.
None of his ideas had worked, either to stabilize the core superficially or to close the opening of the void that was causing it. But . . . a combination of magic and determination seemed like it could work. But he had no more physical DT and he wasnât willing to obtain more. He wasnât going to let himself sink that low again.
But, well, he already had a fusion of magic and determination with him, didnât he? Himself. From when he was first experimenting with the stuff, seeing how much a monsterâs soul could be strengthened with it. So heâd taken bits of himself. Cut out pieces from his own hands. It was . . . excruciating. But the tests held promise. More research needed to be done, something was needed to give the determination something to be determined about. But at least there was finally progress.
He was late returning home. Which wasnât unusual, especially ever since the Core destabilized, but this time rather from working late it was because he was dreading Jeremy noticing his hands. Heâd considered wearing gloves, but his hands hurt too much to even move, much less pull something around them, and telekinesis required hand motions so he couldnât use that, either. He opted instead to let them hang loosely by his side while attempting to hide the bandaged holes.
This worked most of the way home until he came up to the house, and specifically, the door. There was no way heâd be able to turn the handle like this. He needed food, to at least take the edge off the pain if not heal it entirely, but food was inside, and there was a door between him and it. Rather than call for Jeremyâs help, though, he risked the movement required for telekinesis, wincing as he used it to open the door. He gently kicked the door closed after entering, looking around for Jeremy and holding his hands behind his back as naturally as he could. He was not ready for this conversation.
. . . Hopefully he wouldnât be in the kitchen, because if he wasnât, then perhaps he could grab something to eat that would heal him enough to at least put some gloves on. Pretend he found them on the way back and liked them and so is wearing them. Stars, he hoped he wouldnât have to talk about this.
