It is. The hug is such a comfort. Frisk runs fingers through his fur, taking in his soft texture, tracing the shape of the back of his skull, where his ears start, down his spine, across his shoulders. They want to solidify his shape to them.

"'M sorry. I just… I, uh, I didn't want to talk to anyone after October. I'm sorry I shut you guys out, I should've reached out sooner, I um… yeah. What about you?"