Frisk's heart fell at Sans' response. She should have expected such an answer from him. All he did was dodge and ignore difficult subjects, and this had to be one of the most difficult of all. Still, she looked at him with a defeated look, staring at him as he danced around the situation and desperately tried to avoid it.

Part of her wanted to do the same. The other part knew this couldn't go on anymore; neither of them could handle it. The nightmares and panic attacks were getting worse, and Frisk couldn't allow herself to turn away from it again. She watched him get up and move to the TV, half-expecting him to shortcut out between the table and couch. Relief briefly flooded her when he didn't, though she figured it was only because he was exhausted.

Slowly, she got to her feet and followed him. With a rush of determination, Frisk moved in front of the television, effectively blocking it. She knew he was using it to evade her. As harsh as she knew it was, Frisk wasn't going to let him get distracted. They both needed this, whether Sans agreed with her or not. She crossed her arms. 

"[i]Nothing[/i] is fine, Sans! It's never been fine!" She tried to keep her voice steady, but failed horribly as it shook. "I don't want to talk about this, either. But we have to! We can't keep ignoring this...We just keep going in circles, and I don't like it." Her voice quivered, and she dropped her arms to her sides. Her determination was quickly fizzling.

"I don't want you to hate me, again. But I can take it, if it means you'll be okay."