âWhat are you afraid of?â
Sans didnât turn from where he leaned on the balcony railing overlooking his glittering city of factories.
âHeâs just a boy in love,â the voice of his wife, Elo, came from behind him. He still didnât turn to look at her. If he did, he knew what he would find. Her unyielding posture, fists clenched at her sides, and that ever-disappointed look on her face.
âhave a drink, why donât ya,â he growled, venom evident in his tone. If he was looking at her, he wouldâve seen her flinch.
âNo,â Elo said, rounding on him, âIâve had enough.â
She was standing at his side, now, leaning on the railing herself and trying to catch his eye as he turned his head away.
âHe loves that girl, Sans,â she said persistently, her hand extending on the railing towards his.
âwell, thatâs too bad,â Sans said as he drew his hand away, turning to walk inside.
âHe has the kind of love for her that you and I once had,â she called, voice a bit louder now.
Sans stopped, sighing as he looked at the floor, âthe girl means nothing to me.â
âI know,â Elo's voice was heavy with grief, and Sans didnât know if it was over his denial or her relentless empathy for mortals, âbut she means everything to him.â
There was a brief pause as Sans heard his wife draw a breath.
Sans sighed, shaking his head, a humorless grin on his face.
âSans,â Elo said, voice possessing a softness that he heard very infrequently these days, âmy husband.â
She stepped closer to him again, and Sans felt the ghost of a touch on his shoulder blade before he stepped away.
âSans,â she repeated, a bit more desperate, âmy light.â
Sans shook his head again, moving to the opposite side of the balcony to look out over the city.
âSans,â came Eloâs voice, imploringly, âmy darkness.â
Those nicknames. How freely she had used them in their youth. He was her rock, her tree, and in tender moments, her flower. Her light. Her darkness. All these elements of the natural world that she drew comparison to.
It had taken her far too long to realize that the god of the dead was anything but natural.
âIf you had heard how he sang tonight,â she said, and Sans took a moment to realize she was talking about that mortal again, âyouâd pity poor Orpheus.â
Sans laughed, leaning on the railing and bowing his head in disbelief.
âAll of his sorrow wonât fit in his chest,â she said, louder to drown out his laughter, âit just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest. And his heart is a bird on a spit in his chest. How long? How long? How long?â
âhow long?â Sans turned, finally, his voice dripping with resentment as he tapped his chest and stepped closer to her, "just as long as i am king. nothing comes of wishing on stars."
Sans looked up to the ceiling of the underground, dotted with false light that they had dubbed stars.
"and nothing comes of the songs people sing," he growled, looking back down to Elo, who stood her ground despite how Sans towered over her, "however sorry they are."
Sans couldn't bear to look at her any longer, so he turned to the railing again, looking out over his city.
"give them a piece, they'll take it all," he said, almost entirely to himself, "show them a crack, they'll tear down the wall."
"lend them an ear," he said as he glanced back to his wife, gesturing out to the city below them, "and the kingdom will fall. the kingdom will fall for a song."
He looked back to the glittering landscape below for only a moment before he felt Elo's hand on his shoulder, pulling him to face her.
"What does he care for the logic of kings?" she asked exasperatedly, her smile looking more like a grimace in her disbelief, "the 'laws' of your underworld?"
Sans scoffed, and took a step away from her.
"It is only for love that he sings," she said desperately, both hands clutching to the center of her chest, as is she had a beating heart there like those mortals, "he sings for the love of a girl."
"you and your pity don't fit in my bed," Sans growled lowly as he advanced on her again, pointing a phalange to her chest, "you just burn like a fire in the pit of my bed."
Sans turned, taking a breath to calm himself as his hands went to the back of his skull, smoothing over the bone, "and i turn like a bird on a spit in my bed. how long, how long, how long?"
He was shaking his head, a mixed rush of emotions coming over him as he paced.
"How long?" Elo laughed harshly, grabbing his forearm to stop him, "just as long as I am your wife."
Sans could pull his arm away if he wanted to, but he felt frozen as she looked at him with that familiar fire in her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, "it's true," her hand loosened on his forearm and ran up the length of his bicep in a motion Sans could only describe as tender, "the earth must die."
Her eyes, now a good deal softer, looked up at him again, and Sans felt like air would never come to his chest again.
"But then," she whispered, stepping closer to him as her hand made it's way from his shoulder to his cheekbone, "the earth comes back to life. And the sun must go on rising."
Sans debated pulling away. He had to be strong for both of them. To protect both of them. But her hand was warm against his cheekbone and it had been so long since they were this close...
Sans shuddered out a sigh, eyes falling shut and cheek pushing into her hand as his head bowed to be at a better height for her. His own hand came to cover hers, pressing her smooth skin against his cheek.
"how does the sun even fit in the sky?" he asked softly, eyesockets cracking open as his now-fuzzy eyelights found her eyes, "jus' burns like a fire in the pit of the sky."
She smiled sadly at him, thumb moving back and forth over the plane of his cheek.
"and the earth is a bird on a spit in the sky," he shook his head, pulling away. Her hand remained frozen mid-air, and she stepped forward to go after him, but he put a hand up. He stepped away from her, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to burn the memory of her hand on his face into his mind. He knew that what he was about to do meant he wouldn't feel her warm touch for a long time now. He stepped inside from the balcony.
Elo remained outside alone, arm stuck in midair as she stared in shock as the door closed behind him.
"How long?" she whispered to herself, tears pricking her eyes. Her palm was tingling from where she had touched her husband for the first time in decades.
She pulled her hand back to her chest, clutching the fabric of her dress as if she could imprint his touch on her soul, âhow long? How long?"