You were, to say the least, a little nervous. Though, that nervousness was quelled in part with your sheer determination. It was time to get some answers. The curiosity and the confusion you felt from the conversation with Frisk had never left you. It had only grown with time.
You wanted to know more. Still, Frisk was just a child, albeit a mature one, and you couldn’t place the expectation of an explanation on them. Besides, they had a lot on their plate—clearly. You needed to know exactly what had happened, especially as it seemed that it was going to affect you and your friends. You didn’t feel like you could talk to Sans, at least not until you knew what can of worms you were opening up.
So, here you were, outside of Alphys and Undyne’s home, pacing as you gathered your courage. Your plan was to learn about her job as the Royal Scientist, and, as a bonus, to learn about that which you could find no real information about the idea of souls, of magic, and of what actually forced monsters under Mount Ebott.
With a deep breath, you stalked up to the door and knocked. There were a few moments of nothing, then you could hear the clattering of claws against hardwood floors. The door opened and there was Alphys, herself.
She looked happy to see you, though you could sense a vague apprehension. It was nothing out of the norm, however, since she tended to be a very timid little lizard monster.
“H-Hi!”
You waved, “Hey Alph!” and she let you inside.
The house was not what you expected. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but certainly not an open floor plan with a minimalist style. There was a small entryway, from which you had just come. The focus of the main room was on an elegant white grand piano. You noted the sheets of music that sat on the stand and on the little piano bench. Did Alphys play? you wondered idly. A large kitchen was off to the right and a simple living room with a rather expansive dvd collection sat to the left. You took a moment to admire the huge flat-screen television, before taking in the rest of the house. There was a hallway directly to the back, which was where Alphys started to walk. The hall had three doors, one to the left, one to the right, and the last one at the end of the hall.
“You have such a nice home,” you said as you followed her. You could just see a slight pink tinge to her orange scales and smiled. She was so easily flustered.
“Undyne d-did most of it,” she announced proudly.
“Oh?” You asked with some surprise, “Is the piano hers, then?”
“Yes!” She squealed, “She’s amazing.”
Whenever Alphys talked of Undyne it seemed as though she forgot her anxieties for a moment. Her stutter diminished; it was heart-warming to see the love between them.
You couldn’t believe the two were not already dating. Not only did they share a home, but it was so obvious to anyone who had spent more than a minute with either of them that they were head over heels for each other.
“So, you live together, but you aren’t together?”
This was the wrong question to ask, judging by the flush on her scales and the sudden sweat beading her yellow head.
“Y-yeah… Is that weird?”
“No!” You rushed to assure her, “I just feel like it is clear that you both like each other…”
She continued down the hallway, opening a door off to the right into a room that was notedly different from the rest of the house. While the greater part of the house was decorated in simple colours and only a few paintings or ornaments, Alphys’ room was absolutely vibrant, and a little messy. The walls were covered in posters of anime and there were several manga strewn about the room. The bed was unmade, with crumpled pink sheets and an anime themed comforter. You, mercifully, did not comment on the body pillow with the face of some heroine you didn’t recognise.
You placed a comforting hand on the madly blushing monster, “Alph, I don’t think you know how great you are. Any fish-lady with an ounce of sense could see it.”
She flapped her hands in embarrassment, “Y-you’re just saying that.”
Before you could say anything else, she cleared her throat, “B-besides, there is a l-lot… t-that she doesn’t know yet. Th-things that would make her… She’ll hate me.”
In an even smaller voice, she added, “I hate me.”
You felt the urge to just grab her and hug her but resisted it—you didn’t want to add to her stress.
“Alphys, whatever it is that you haven’t told her… she’ll forgive you. I just know.”
She smiled, but it was a sad smile.
All she said was, “Well, we’ll see if you change your mind.”
With that, she gestured to another door that you had assumed was a closet. However, when she opened it, you discovered that it held another room. This room was in stark contrast to Alphys’ bedroom. It was sterile, clinical, with white walls and a tiled floor. There were machines beeping with indecipherable information flashing across them and counter tops filled with a variety of what you presumed to be scientific instruments.
She took a moment to point some of these things out, explaining that she still continued some of her research above ground. She admitted shyly that she hoped to get some kind of job as a scientist or researcher.
“This is so cool!” You exclaimed.
She waved her hand dismissively, “My lab Underground was much bigger.”
“What did you do down there?”
“Uh, I, uh, well,” she stuttered, sweating more and more as she floundered for words, “I experimented… f-for Asgore. I—Asgore w-wanted SOULs?” The last part sounded more like a question than a statement.
You stayed silent but tried to look encouraging. You knew about souls from the conversation with Frisk.
She seemed to consider something, then asked, “D-do you know what SOULs are?”
“Only vaguely. I know they exist, I guess,” you answered truthfully.
“Y-yes, SOULs exist. Th-they are… uhm, monsters have them and h-humans do too. Th-they’re basically your ess-essence.”
You nodded, that wasn’t new. Humans had beliefs about souls, after all.
Alphys’ tone become more serious and her speech less fragmented as she explained the properties of the SOUL.
“Monster SOULs are white and shaped like an upside-down heart, but human SOULs are also heart-shaped, but they have colour. I was researching SOULs for Asgore because they were the key to our escape.”
This was new information, “You needed them to escape? You said monsters have, uhm, SOULs, right?”
She nodded in affirmation, looking uncomfortable, “Yes, we do, but they’re just not as strong as a human SOUL. Do you know how the monsters were forced Underground?”
You shrugged, “Kind of. Frisk talked to me about it a little bit. Humans were at fault, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There was silence for a moment. You felt a heaviness in your heart—or perhaps, in your SOUL.
Then, she continued. Alphys explained the history of the monsters and the seven mages that forced them Underground. She talked about the War of Humans and Monsters, which took place long before Frisk had ever come Underground. So many monsters died, due to an unfounded fear that the humans held—it was here that you learned that monsters could, theoretically, absorb a human SOUL. You wondered, could humans do the same? The seven mages created a barrier with their magic and sealed the monsters under Mount Ebott. She spoke of the bitterness in many of the monster’s hearts that came from the loss of so many of their own and their entrapment in the Underground. You felt sick, knowing that it was your kind that caused such destruction.
Then, she told you something that made you feel so much worse.
“To take down the barrier… we needed seven human SOULs.”
“But I thought Frisk took down the barrier?”
“They did. Th-they did… I-I don’t remember exactly how… It’s kind of a blur… but they didn’t do it alone,” she looked as though she had more to say, but was unsure of how to say it, or what your reaction might be.
“We had six SOULs before Frisk came.”
You couldn’t hide your shock and she cringed at the expression on your face.
“How!?”
She responded simply, “They fell. The same way Frisk fell.”
“What does this have to do with working for Asgore?”
And so, she told you. She told you the truth of it all—that she had lied to Asgore about creating an artificial SOUL so that she could impress him—that because of that lie, she became the Royal Scientist. She told you that she created Mettaton, that she tried and tried again to create a SOUL. She told you that she experimented with a compound found in some human SOULs known as determination. She told you of the true lab, of the failed experiments, of the melting amalgamations (you thought of Endogeny, suddenly understanding the nature of their existence) of monsters that had passed, and of the one that didn’t quite fail, but disappeared, nonetheless. She told you of the humans who had fallen before Frisk and the way those SOULs had been taken. At some point during her confession, she had started crying.
And, despite the horror you felt, you reached over and gave her a hug. She cried into your shoulder, talking of her failure and her deceit, talking of her shame. She cried and she cried, confessing her sins and the desperation of the monsters who spent many a year trapped Underground.
“And, in the end, SOULs couldn’t even be artificially made. Everything I did was pointless,” she choked out.
Alphys was shaking, being practically held up by you. All you could do was hold her as she cried. You hadn’t known. You hadn’t known at all that this was what you would learn. You had only meant to learn more about magic and why the monsters were pushed Underground. You hadn’t known that she would tell you everything.
One thing was clear to you, however: this secret had weighed heavily on her heart.
“Does anyone else know?” You knew the answer, or rather, you could guess it.
“Y-yeah, Frisk does.”
It was as you expected.
“And Frisk doesn’t hate you,” your tone was a statement, but in reality, it was more of a question.
“N-no… but Frisk has always been… F-Frisk is so f-full of mercy.”
“Well,” you laughed, unable to keep the urge at bay, “I’m not so full of mercy.”
At this, Alphys stiffened, but you hurriedly continued, “And I don’t hate you in the slightest… I just… feel bad.”
“Me too.”
The rest of the visit was far less emotional and heavy, although the two of you did cover some difficult topics—such as the existence of human magic and whether or not there was a possibility of humans pulling the same abhorrent stunt. You learned a lot, though. You understood better how Frisk had fought and fought for a peaceful resolution. You learned about monster magic in more detail and perhaps in a more scientific way than your brain could fully comprehend, but Alphys was patient with your questions.
You still felt uncomfortable, unsure of what to make of the little reptilian monster and her past, but overall, you felt compassion for her and for the monsters. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live your life without having seen the sun, or the moon. So, in some part, you understood why they had done the things they had. Even if the murders were something terrible to hear about, you could still understand why.
There was nothing but empathy in your SOUL.
You were both in the kitchen, sitting at a pristine table, each drinking a cup of tea—Alphys had said it was “golden flower” tea. You had never heard of it before, but it helped soothe you. It seemed like it was helping Alphys, as well. The two of you chatted on more light-hearted subjects: the anime Alphys was currently watching, how cool Undyne was, and how Mew Mew Kissy Cutie was the best show ever.
Soon enough, evening had fallen, and it was time for you to go home.
Before you left, however, you still had one thing you felt the need to say to Alphys.
“I think you should tell Undyne everything.”
“W-what?”
“Seriously, tell her everything. Tell her about the lab and what you did. She’ll understand. She really cares about you. You’ll see.”
She still looked unconvinced but said she would try anyway.
“Th-thank you,” Alphys said to you as you were leaving, “for listening.”
“Hey, I’ll always listen. You’re not a bad person, Alphys. You were just in a bad situation.”
Alphys did not say anything, but she appeared to take those words to heart. You could feel a sense of calm in her that you had never seen before. Perhaps, although the conversation was not what you expected, it was what both of you had needed.
There was a lot on your mind, walking home. You were still trying to process everything that you had been told. It was hard to comprehend and there were still pieces missing. Alphys did not mention any magic that Frisk had; she didn’t seem to know that Frisk was capable of magic and you had not pressed her about it. That fact, though, seemed to confirm the idea that Frisk really had kept their powers a secret. You still did not know about Sans, either, and his involvement in any of what had taken place Underground, or whether or not he was truly the ‘he’ that Frisk had alluded to. You knew a whole lot more than you had previously. Although it had not been an easy discussion, nor had any of the information been something simple to digest, you were glad that you knew the truth. Or, that you knew part of the truth.
There was still more to uncover—like the experiment that Alphys said had partially worked. Where did that creature go? It made you think of Asriel—or Flowey, you corrected yourself. Frisk said that he had no SOUL. How could that be? Would it be so easy to say that Flowey was the creation that Alphys had mentioned? It seemed almost too convenient, or too obvious.
You would have to ask Frisk about that when you got the chance.
At that moment, something broke you from your thoughts.
It was getting late, and the streets were empty. You were still somewhat far away from your apartment building. You paused in your walk, straining to listen, while looking around surreptitiously.
You didn’t see anything, or anyone for that matter, but you had the peculiar feeling of being watched. You thought of the threatening note that had been left outside your apartment building so long ago and felt a spike of fear rising within you.
With more caution, now, you stepped forward. This time, you were listening intently. You stayed alert as you continued to walk home.
With a forced sense of casualness, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and held it in your hands as you walked. You noticed the slight tremble in your hands. Your palms felt clammy, and your stomach was filled with dread. There was something terribly wrong. You didn’t know how you knew—you just knew. You knew that something bad was going to happen. You felt as though it already had.
You flipped the phone open, hearing footsteps from a distance behind you as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. In your head, you were working to calculate just how far of a run it would be to get back to the safety of your apartment.
All you could think about was the threatening note. It struck fear into your heart.
As you took a turn, from the corner of your eye you saw several dark figures a few yards down the street you had just left. They were staring, following, with no real sense of urgency. They were undeniably human, or at least humanoid—although you heavily doubted the idea of several monsters tracking you through the night. Your heart was pounding as you rounded the corner.
Most alarmingly of all, was that they made no motion to hide the fact that they were, indeed, stalking you.
You woke with a familiar warmth a weight resting on your lap. You also felt an unfamiliar weight at your side and across your shoulders. Your eyes popped open, taking in at once your dim living room and the dark TV, glancing down you saw Luna’s sleeping form, half on you and half on the couch. To your side, you saw blue. Looking up, you saw a peacefully sleeping skeleton. The weight on your shoulders was actually his arm, which he had wrapped around you. The position you found yourself in, cuddled into the crook of his arm, made you blush furiously.
You also noted that there was no escaping this situation without waking one of the two up, which you were reluctant to do. So, as a result, you continued to rest there. After a moment, you realised that the television was off.
Last night, after Sans had walked you home, you had invited him up to your apartment. He suggested a movie—some sci-fi thing that was almost too hard to follow in your sleepy and tipsy state, but he had watched it, completely enthralled.
When had you fallen asleep? If the television was off, that meant Sans must have done that. Which also meant that Sans had made the conscious decision to stay there with you on the couch, rather than return home to his own, presumably, more comfortable bed.
It was… kind of sweet.
You replayed the events of yesterday in your mind. You had been able to confirm Frisk’s story without exposing them or yourself, however you still couldn’t be certain that Sans was actually the “he” that Frisk had mentioned. It made sense, though.
It actually made a lot of sense, the more you thought about it.
Your eyes traced his jaw, the gentle expression on his face as he slept, and the slight furrow in his browbone as he shifted in his sleep. All the while, mulling over every interaction you had with him. He loved science. He entertained your simple questions about science, although there were certain topics that he often evaded. To you, it could just be that he didn’t know a lot about it, however, with Frisk’s conversation in mind, you wondered if there could be other reasons for that behaviour.
You couldn’t remember specifically which topics seemed to be taboo with the big skeleton, but you had an inkling of a memory that suggested it might be to do with space and time.
Hadn’t you off-handedly mentioned multiple universes at one point? You weren’t sure.
Still, though, you had to consider the haunted look in Sans’ eyes that night he talked of nightmares to you—of experiences and dreams where he couldn’t determine what was real. You also remembered his mentions of violence.
If it weren’t for the fact that over the course of knowing him, he’d been an enjoyable and gentle presence in your life, you would worry at the suggestion of “violence.”
Sans didn’t put much effort into anything, from what you could tell—you couldn’t imagine him being violent in any capacity. Sure, he’d been cold to you upon first meeting, but that misunderstanding had been cleared away ages ago.
He certainly was big enough to be intimidating, but what with his love of bad jokes and lazy personality, it was just hard to picture him in a fight. Papyrus, despite his sweet and soft nature, seemed more of a fighter than Sans.
You just kept staring, lost in your thoughts, and only broken from them as he stirred.
“Like what you see?” He mumbled sleepily, cracking an eye open to peer down at you.
There was a small smirk on your face, Sans couldn’t help the blue that tinged his cheekbones as he looked at you. There you were, curled against him, with his arm around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. It felt right—the world felt right, in that moment, to him. He wondered briefly if you felt that sense of peace too.
“Is Papyrus going to worry?” You asked, only now considering the fact that Sans had been, as far as you were aware, missing for the better part of a day and now overnight.
Sans only shrugged and as he did so, he retracted his arm. If you had any less pride, you might complain, or your disappointment might show on your face, but instead you just straightened up.
He watched you shift, as though moving away from him, and for a moment he let himself just miss your presence and warmth. Luna, at the sound of your quiet murmurs, had woken as well. She stretched luxuriously, a strange popping sound coming from her back.
Sans looked at the dog with some mixture of shock and worry, while you just patted her head.
“Good stretch?” You asked her, smiling down at the sweet dog.
“What was that noise?” He asked, almost anxiously.
“Oh, she was just popping her back. People do it all the time. I’m not sure what it is, I think it’s air in the joints?”
“So, she’s okay?” He prompted, looking mollified.
“Yeah, she’s okay. Luna is just gettin’ in her morning stretches.”
At that, you get up for real, having been freed both from your dog and the skeleton beside you. You stretched, feeling a tightness in your shoulders from sleeping on the couch. You didn’t notice the way he watched you and Sans was careful to look away once you’re done.
“So,” you started, “breakfast?”
After starting a pot of coffee, you were in the process of making scrambled eggs for the two of you. Luna was already munching happily at her own bowl of food as you cooked. Sans kept himself occupied in the living room, although he had offered to help. You had turned the offers down, though, stating that he was a guest, and you were there to serve him. You had gotten a kick out of the way his expression changed when you had said that.
While the eggs were finishing cooking, you grabbed out your cellphone to send a quick text to Alphys. You kept it fairly simple, stating “Hey! Weird question, but I was wondering if I could learn more about the Underground from you? Like, what did you do Underground?”
Satisfied, you went back to finishing breakfast.
“Food’s up,” you called as you carefully made two plates of eggs, each with some toast. You brought those to the little second-hand dining table in your little apartment, then returned to fetch two fresh mugs of coffee.
It was a nice and quiet morning, with Sans sitting at your small table in one of your rickety chairs, eating the food you had made. You felt good and despite the uncomfortable nature of sleeping on a couch, you felt refreshed. Something about Sans gave you a sense of security that did not often find you. Typically, nightmares plagued your dreams—memories of being cornered, memories of being trapped, of pain, of helplessness, of guilt, and of disgust. These complex dreams, which haunted your life, more often than not, interrupted your sleep. They stole your energy and your spirit. Despite the fact that you had fled far away from your attacker and those who blamed you for the incident, you were still followed by the scars of such an incident.
Yet, when you were with Sans, in the way that Luna helped, you felt more at ease.
You were filled with joy.
Your face beamed as you turned to your own breakfast plate and began to eat. Luna, having finished her own meal, trotted over to curl up on your feet. Sans paused, with a forkful of egg on its way to his mouth, just watching your gleeful expression.
He might never know exactly what darkness haunted you, what past you had, but he was forever thankful that it led you to this moment. Sans loved the light that shone through you—through your body, your mind, your spirit, through your soul.
Your phone buzzed, signalling a response from Alphys. You checked it, with a sense of apprehension, but it was misplaced. The simple response was “Sure. Do you have time today?” To which you responded with a resounding “Yes!”
Sans did not question your sudden excitement, nor the glint of determination in your eyes. If you wanted to tell him, you would. He was sure you would, in time.
“Thanks for the meal, Smalls.”
“Oh man, I thought we were past that!”
“I dunno what would’ve given you that thought,” he chuckled.
You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from you.
“If I’m ‘Smalls,’ then, what are you? Bigs?”
“Hey, I’m just big boned.”
“In the most literal sense,” you quipped with a smile.
He snorted, then resumed eating. You did the same, finishing your plate within minutes. You cleared the table, Luna following you step for step as you did so, while Sans remained seated, just sipping on the coffee you had made.
“Do you have plans today?”
You slid back into the little kitchen chair, nodding as you did, “Yep! I think I’m going to see Alphys today.”
“Oh, really?” He quirked a browbone, seeming surprised, “I didn’t know you were that close.”
“Well, I definitely know Undyne better, but I think it’s important to spend time with everyone, right?” You did not mention your motivations for seeing Alphys privately.
“I’m sure she appreciates that—just be ready for a dissertation on why Mew-Mew-whatever is the best anime.”
“Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, for your information.”
“Sure, sure, it’s not my cup of tea,” he held up his mug for emphasis.
“That pun doesn’t even work! That’s not even a teacup, plus it’s coffee!”
“I didn’t know you were the pun police.”
You pretended to bring up a walkie talkie to your face, “Hello, yes? I need backup, we have improper use of play on words here. Yes, I repeat, this is a 10-75, request for backup.”
He rolled his eyes, an action which you would perhaps question, if it weren’t for how hard you were laughing. Sans just raised his hands, palms forward and fingers spread in a show of surrender.
“Officer, I swear, I have bean accused of a crime I did not commit.”
You sobered, plastering a fake look of disapproval on your face.
“The clear crimes here are those atrocious jokes.”
“I’m just trying to espresso myself here.”
“Just because you are on topic now, does not excuse the brew-tal use of wrongful puns earlier.”
“I thought it was quali-tea.”
You couldn’t keep your serious tone any longer, breaking character once more as you laughed wholeheartedly. Sans joined you, a genuine happiness in his hollow eyes.
“You managed to bring it back,” you huffed between laughs.
“I always do,” he said simply.
Not long after, Sans needed to leave for work. You weren’t sure how many jobs the skeleton had, but it seemed to be many. You supposed that was antithetical to your prior ideas of his lack of effort—clearly, he was a hard-worker, or at least he worked a lot. Though, really, you knew it was for the sake of Papyrus. If there was ever an instance where Sans would put in effort, it was certainly for his beloved brother.
You checked the time, noting that there were still a couple of hours before the time you and Alphys had agreed to meet. So, in this time, you took the opportunity to take Luna on a long walk. You bundled up beforehand, noticing that the weather cited a chance for snow. Regardless of whether it would snow or remain clear, the temperature was definitely colder than you liked.
It was nice to take some time for Luna. The last few weeks had seemed like such a whirlwind and it wasn’t until you were able to take a breather with your dog that you noted, with a prickle of guilt, that you hadn’t given her the quality time and attention she deserved.
For her part, though, she was just ecstatic to be with you on this venture outdoors.
As you walked, you veered in the direction of Grillby’s and the other monster-owned businesses. You were a few blocks away from the familiar restaurant when you noticed it. It was purely chance that you did so, having paused on your walk to pick up Luna’s droppings. In the distance, you saw someone dressed in dark clothing stop as you did. They almost seemed to be watching you, but you couldn’t tell for sure.
You cleaned up after Luna, throwing the bag away, and when you turned around to where the figure had been, they were gone.
You shuddered, uneasy, though the presence of Luna certainly provided a sense of protection. You couldn’t help but wonder: Who was that? Were they following me?
The two of you continued your stroll, reaching a part of the town that was more populated by monsters. You felt more at ease seeing other people on the streets, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had been followed. It reminded you of a sense of being watched that you had had on other occasions.
Simply, you wondered if this was the danger that Frisk had mentioned so cryptically before.
However, you could not delve into those thoughts so deeply as you soon found yourself face-to-face with a familiar friend.
“Napstablook?” You asked, surprised to see them, “How’re you doing!? It’s been a while!”
They looked almost uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but at least they recognised you from that party Sans and Papyrus had held at their home.
“H-hello,” they mumbled shyly, “I-I’m okay, I guess. I’m s-sorry I d-didn’t reach out. I-I’m the worst.”
In almost an instant, the timid ghost looked on the verge of tears. You did not waste time contemplating how a ghost could cry, instead reaching out a hand to attempt to pat their shoulder. Your hand passes through, to your embarrassment.
You quickly tried to cover this lapse in etiquette by speaking assurances, “No! Don’t be sorry! I should’ve tried to contact you! I’m glad to see you.”
Their form quivered in front of you, but at least they no longer looked as though they were about to start crying—despite their watery eyes.
Napstablook sniffled, “Oh, well, t-that’s good to hear.”
In a further attempt to recover the conversation, you asked, “Would you like to swap numbers? I’d like to get together sometime soon! I have plans today, but if I had your number, then we can hang out sometime soon.”
The ghost before you smiled, though their eyes were filled with doubt, “S-Sure.”
You would be lying if you said that you were doing well.
Despite the zoo adventure and other various simple hangouts, you were still preoccupied over the conversation with Frisk and Flowey. There was worry embedded in your heart over the condition of those kids and their fate. There was a sense of fear that hadn’t left you since that day.
Though, you had stopped trying to research. There was just nothing to research—at least nothing with even an ounce of validity. You had toyed with the idea of talking to one of the monsters, like, perhaps, Toriel, but you were hesitant. Frisk seemed very keen on secrecy, did Toriel even know about their purported powers?
You could talk to Alphys, maybe. She seemed the most qualified of any, what with her background, to explain monster and human magic. Yet, still, how could you frame your line of questioning in a way that didn’t expose Frisk? How would you explain your sudden interest in magic, souls, and the history of the monsters? Prior, you had been relatively accepting—preferring not to question your friends about their past but allowing them to share what they wished to when they wished to do so.
Then, there was Sans. He was the first person you had considered talking to, however, you had a sickly gut-feeling upon the notion. Additionally, you remembered Frisks words—after all, how could you not? They had played in your mind on repeat, occupied your night-time musings, and haunted your daydreams.
“No one knows…?” you had asked.
“Well, I think someone does… but I can’t exactly talk to him about it. He hates it. He made me promise that I wouldn’t reset.”
He. He hates it. He. He made them promise. He.
There were few “he’s” that Frisk could be referring to. Though, what were the odds? Surely, Frisk knew far more of the monsters than you did. What were the chances that they were referring to Sans? Perhaps, Papyrus?
You tried to picture Papyrus in the situation, but it just didn’t fit. Someone that sweet and that hopeful could not be privy to such devastating information.
Which, inevitably, led you back to Sans. You could certainly see the effects of trauma in his tired bones—hah, making puns even without your skeleton friend. Considering these things brought you also to a memory of Sans’ late nights. He often seemed like an insomniac, unable to sleep for the thoughts in his head. He’d confided in you about his nightmares; you had thought at the time that they were just fears and worries manifesting in his dreams. You remembered him talking about violence, about things that had happened, yet had never truly happened. Most poignantly, you remembered him admitting that sometimes it was hard to know what was real and what was not.
All evidence pointed towards the mysterious “he” that Frisk mentioned being none other than Sans.
Still, though, you were reluctant to ask him. The feeling resided deep within you; from a place you couldn’t identify. You just knew, it was not a conversation you wanted to have—or perhaps, you just weren’t ready for it yet.
So, it brought you back to Alphys. Perhaps, it would not be so hard to talk to her about magic without revealing anything—you questions could be disguised as curiosity that you had not entertained out of respect for them.
You needed to talk to Alphys, though it struck you that it would be difficult to question her with Undyne around. You needed to talk to Alphys alone.
Would she even want to talk about magic? Or, for that matter, what happened in the Underground?
Your phone buzzed, bringing you back into the present moment.
You looked around you, taking in the colourful shop around you and the quiet of a slow afternoon. Although Frisk had been allowed to resume working again—a fact you had been excited (and apprehensive) about, Frisk hadn’t come in today, apparently having too much work to catch up on in school. You hadn’t minded, knowing that the middle of the week was always slow for you in any case. Though, you did miss their company.
Gingerly, you grabbed your phone off of the counter and checked it. Just one message flashed on the screen, from Sans.
Sansational [12:50 pm]
knock knock.
You rolled your eyes, though a soft smile did grace your lips.
XXX–XXX–XXXX [12:51 pm]
who’s there?
Instantly, a response appeared.
Sansational [12:51 pm]
wendy
You played along, texting back “wendy who?”
Sansational [12:52 pm]
wendy you think we can go on a date?
For a moment it felt like your heart had stopped; for all too long you simply stared at the text message. Date? You thought, feeling not entirely unhappy with the notion.
However, before you could formulate a response, your phone dinged again and then again. As you opened the thread again, two more responses popped up.
Sansational [12:52 pm]
uh * coffee date
like we did before
lol
oops
You could feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, though you couldn’t identify why. You shook yourself and typed out a response.
XXX-XXX-XXXX [12:53 pm]
cant leave now, at the shop alone
after work?
Sansational [12:53 pm]
how about dinner?
The rest of the day went without much incident, although Greater Dog did come in for a quick groom—apparently their family was taking photos today and he wanted to look his best. You smiled at the image of their huge family getting together for pictures—how cute.
As you were cleaning up the backroom and locking up, there was the sound of the door chiming.
Without looking, you called out, “Hey, we’re closed!”
“That’s the hope,” came a familiar gravelly voice.
You smiled, emerging from the backroom with a dirty, hair-covered rag in hand, “Oh, hey Sans! I didn’t know you were coming here.”
He looked you over, you with your apron and washcloth, with dog fur littering your clothes, and your hair tied back—though now strands of it were sticking out at odd angles.
Sans appeared as cool as ever, hands in the pockets of his deep blue jacket, wearing his typical gym shorts and converse. It fit him, despite the fact that you had never seen him partake in anything remotely sports-related, or for that matter, active.
“Thought you might be bonely without the lil’ squirt.”
You nodded, “Yeah, actually, I used to love working alone, but now? I’m so used to having someone with me.”
Luna, at that point, trotted up to Sans with her tail lowly wagging. She sniffed at him curiously, ears at attention, though they relaxed once he placed a skeletal hand on her head.
As he pat Luna, you finished cleaning and closing up the store.
The two of you chatted idly as you worked, and he continued to give Luna the attention she deserved.
With him here, you couldn’t stop thinking about Frisk and their words. It would be so simple just to ask—“hey, do humans have magic?” Or anything about the conversation without giving too much away, yet, when you looked at him, something stopped you.
Perhaps, it was the clear exhaustion rimming his eye sockets, or the subtle way his shoulders were hunched. Perhaps, it was something in you that was making you hesitate.
“Almost done?” His voice broke into your thoughts, drawing you back from your musings.
“Just finished!” You said with glee, before adding, “Can we stop at my place first? I definitely need to wash-up.”
You gestured at your fur-covered self.
“Fur real,” Sans laughed, “S’no paw-blem.”
You snickered at his joke, then got ready to leave.
It was a short walk to your apartment building; however, you had the uncomfortable sense of being watched. Every time you looked around, though, the streets were empty. Sans had noticed your nervousness, even trying to question you about what was wrong, but you couldn’t quite articulate what was bothering you.
Still, you arrived uneventfully.
“Okay, just give me like fifteen minutes to shower and dress, then we can go.”
He just nodded from his place on the couch, Luna already having clambered into his lap.
Fifteen minutes later, you were fresh and ready to go.
“So, where to?”
You arrived at Grillby’s as afternoon rolled into the evening, it was still brisk outside—winter still in full-swing, though it hadn’t snowed yet. The sky was clouded and dark, the air cool and still, but you felt warm as you spent time with Sans.
After securing a booth, Sans ordered a bottle of ketchup, a burger for himself, and one for you. He also ordered two drinks, though you weren’t sure what they were.
Grillby was serving, today—you were always in awe of how much he could do. He cooked, he cleaned, he worked the front, all while keeping rowdy customers from causing a scene.
Soon enough, there was food in front of your face and drinks were served.
Sans, as per his usual, absolutely drowned his burger and fries in ketchup—also taking a sip from the bottle for good measure.
You shivered, watching, before digging into your own plate.
The drink was as colourful as the previous you’d had on other occasions and though you had the temptation to drink it quickly, since it tasted so good, you had also learned your lesson from the last time.
It settled your nerves, making you more at ease. You hadn’t even realised how tense you had been beforehand.
“How’re you feeling?”
He always seemed to sense your mood.
“Better,” you answered truthfully.
“What was wrong?”
You paused, trying to figure out what to say, “I had a lot on my mind—what with the attack on Frisk and everything.”
“Did Frisk talk about it to you?”
You shrugged, lying, “Not really…”
Sans quirked a brow, then sipped his own drink, “I see.”
Suddenly, you saw an opening.
“Why?” You asked, “Did they talk to you about it?”
The expression on his face was unreadable before an easy grin took over once more.
“The kid and I get along, but we’re not exactly—I’m not exactly the person they go to with their problems.”
That surprised you, after all, you had seen the easy way that they joked with each other. They seemed like good friends, though with the context of your conversation with Frisk, it almost made sense that there would be some underlying problems between them.
He finished his drink, prompting you to drink yours a little faster. As you took the last dregs of it, he ordered another round.
“You trying to get me drunk?” You asked cheekily.
“Just trying to,” he paused, holding his drink up, “raise your spirits.”
The pun took a second to hit you, but you laughed wholeheartedly.
“Do you know why they call alcohol spirits?”
“No?” He responded quizzically.
“It’s because when they make alcohol, they distil it, and when they do that it is like they’re taking the essence, or the spirit, of whatever they use to make the alcohol.”
“Why do you know this?”
“I know a lot of things.”
He raised a browbone, “Oh?”
“You’ll just have to find out!”
“Oh, I will,” he said with a smirk.
The tone of his voice gave you thrills, though you weren’t sure why. You were feeling pleasant—pleasantly full of good food, pleasantly warm with the drinks, and pleasantly at peace with your company.
“I don’t know a lot about monsters, though,” you admitted.
“Well, I don’t think the humans knew about us.”
You nodded, sipping on your drink thoughtfully. Maybe, it would be alright to press a little bit.
“How did you guys get underground?”
Wrong question. The lights of his eyes disappeared for a moment and reappeared just slightly dimmer than before.
“It… is complex. I guess, the short of it, is that humans forced us into the Underground.”
You hummed in agreement, having already knew that much.
“Do you know much about magic?”
“Not a lot,” you said, thinking about the conversation with Frisk. Despite all that you had learned, you, in truth, still did not know a lot.
“Well, monsters are made of magic and can use it, but humans used to have magic too.” He stopped to take a drink, almost as though gathering his courage, “Several mages—human magic users—got together and used their powers to trap the monsters below Mount Ebott.”
“That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged.
“Humans don’t have magic anymore, do they?”
Something in his grin twitched, but he kept his easy smiling façade.
“As far as we know, most don’t.”
You noticed his word choice—not “they don’t,” but “most don’t.” It confirmed Frisk’s proclaimed powers. He knew something, but you weren’t sure what or how much.
“What’s with the sudden curiosity?”
You felt sheepish, not wanting to reveal anything that Frisk and you had talked about.
“I just wanted to know more about you guys, you know? That’s what friends do, they’re interested in each other’s history.”
The words felt like a lie, although they weren’t technically untrue. You were curious, you had been curious, but you certainly had other motives for asking these questions now.
He seemed to accept your answer, though.
“To patella you the truth, I don’t like thinking about it that much.”
Guilt washed over you like a sickly pestilence, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“S’okay, natural to be curious. I’d tell you anything you want to know.”
“You’re not ribbing me?”
He chuckled, “No bones about it. I appreciate that you wanted to be sensitive. I’d rather you know the truth from an actual monster than those crazy theories you humans post online.”
At that you laughed, your face flushing with some embarrassment, “Yeah, it didn’t take me long to figure out those were a skeleton of crap.”
He laughed, too, the sound rich and deep. It made you feel warm; it made your stomach squirm. You liked his laugh. Well, you liked his voice, too, with its almost sultry cadence.
“Would you show me your magic sometime?”
His skeletal face became tinged with blue, though you weren’t sure why.
“Sure, I can show you a trick or two.”
“Cool.”
A couple of hours later, the two of you were certainly feeling the effects of those drinks, but it was entirely pleasant. Conversation came easily and naturally between you; the dinner—you hesitated to call it a date—had been a much-needed reprieve from everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
“You ready? It’s getting late…”
You nodded, checking your phone, and feeling a sense of surprise at how quickly the hours had passed.
“Geez, didn’t realise the time!”
Sans made to get up, reaching out a hand for you to take, “Need a hand?”
“Is that a clock pun?”
He snickered, you grabbed his hand gently, and he pulled you out of the booth and the restaurant. You liked the feeling of his bony hand as it engulfed your own. He was soft, but still firm.
You didn’t let go, even outside, and he didn’t protest.
The two of you walked down the street, hand in hand, in easy silence. All too soon, you reached the doors of your apartment building, but you didn’t want this night to end just yet.
“Want to come upstairs?”
He wiggled his browbone at you, to which you sputtered and blushed.
The shop was empty and dark, there was no sign of Frisk or Flowey. With growing worry, you unlocked the front door and slipped inside to wait. As you waited, you busied yourself with tidying. Luna watched you anxiously from the dog bed she had curled up on. It wasn’t long before the door’s chime sounded and Frisk slunk inside, clutching the clay flowerpot that housed their brother.
They didn’t appear nearly as dreadful as they had the day before. You felt a pang of sadness, thinking back on their small form laying in the bed, looking sick and defeated.
“Hi,” was all you said, continuing to sweep the tile behind the counter.
Frisk waved, placing Flowey delicately on the counter you were working behind. He said nothing, looking both glum and exhausted, if ever a flower could look exhausted.
It was silent for a moment, you stopped cleaning and turned to face them. Frisk was quiet, their face looking haggard, as they stood awkwardly. They shifted from foot to foot and grabbed their elbow self-consciously.
You weren’t sure what to do, whether it was better to prompt them, or if they would prefer that you let them stew in the silence.
It didn’t take long before Frisk took a deep breath and raised their hands to sign, “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” you said instantly, “I’ll always come when you need me.”
They smiled at that, the warmth not quite reaching their deep brown eyes.
“I am sorry I did not explain anything last time. I don’t have a lot of time, but I will do my best to explain what happened.”
You nodded, hoping that remaining quiet would encourage them to keep talking.
It looked as though they were debating on what to say, when Flowey spoke up, “Frisk, get on with it.”
They glanced sharply at the flower, their irritation evident, but mixed with something else. Something like resignation.
“I was attacked.”
“By?” You asked, unable to stop yourself.
“A group of humans. They were angry that I am helping the monsters. They cornered me on my way home from school. Normally, it would not matter. It would never have happened, even if it did,” Frisk signed cryptically.
You were confused, but kept quiet, waiting for their explanation.
“Bigots,” Flowey spat.
You looked at him, your features softening. You reached a hand out and gently patted the flower’s head. You couldn’t tell whether he hated it or appreciated it, but at the very least, he allowed it.
“I have been working a lot. I was too tired. I couldn’t undo what happened.”
“What happens is what happens… it isn’t your fault, Frisk,” you said with sympathy.
“Not for me.”
You didn’t know what they meant by that.
“Do you know how the monsters ended up underground?”
You weren’t entirely sure. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge. You knew about some kind of war, you knew they were forced, but you didn’t know what it was that kept them there, or why it happened in the first place.
“Monsters have magic. Humans also have magic—they had magic, at least.”
“Humans used to be able to do magic?”
Frisk nodded and Flowey scoffed, before saying icily, “It’s better that they don’t have it anymore.”
“I have magic. I think humans still have magic, they just don’t know how to use it.”
You tried to keep your face composed, but your surprise and disbelief must have shown, because Frisk continued quickly, this time speaking out loud.
“Yeah, magic. I can do magic. It’s how I got the monsters out of the underground. Magic is what forced them under in the first place. I couldn’t use my magic, though. Asriel—”
Flowey, or Asriel, coughed, and Frisk corrected themselves with a huff, “Flowey had to protect me, but it weakened him. He’s been wilting ever since, and I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t use my magic at all, I was tired. I think I had been using it too much. You wouldn’t believe how hard this last week has been. So many meetings, so many meetings that went wrong. I needed to try again and again. It was horrible. I was too tired; I didn’t have anything when they attacked me.”
Frisk was practically babbling at this point and you struggled to keep up, “Slow down, I’m sorry, but magic? I’m—you—I’m still confused. Humans could do magic? You can do magic?”
They nodded impatiently, “Yes, just, just go along with it right now. I don’t have time to explain the history of monsters and humans, right now.”
Chastised, you kept your mouth shut.
“I can play with time. I don’t know if I always could, or if falling into Ebott woke something up in me, but I can retry certain things when they don’t go well. For some reason, I couldn’t when we were attacked. They hurt me, obviously. Flowey used what power he had to hurt them back. Whatever he did… I don’t remember exactly. I didn’t want people to get hurt—”
At that, you cut in angrily, “They hurt you. They deserved it.”
Flowey hummed in agreement.
Frisk sighed, looking so much older than before, “No one deserves to get hurt.”
You weren’t sure you agreed but said nothing.
“I need your help. Flowey isn’t getting better. I’m scared that he’s dying.”
You glanced at the flower to see his reaction, but his face remained stoic and downturned. You couldn’t tell if he had even heard Frisk at all. You could tell, though, that he looked weary beyond belief. He had lost another petal during the course of the conversation. It looked as though it took all of his strength just to keep his head up, his dull green flower stalk was bent as though the weight of the world rested upon him.
Perhaps it did, based on this whirlwind of a conversation. Frisk, for their part, looked alright despite the exhausted that was clear in their eyes and the bruises that still marred their face.
“I told you before that Flowey isn’t exactly a monster, right?”
“Right.”
“He doesn’t have a soul like you or I or Toriel. Where the soul should be is just… nothing. I think when he used his magic, it depleted his life source, since it couldn’t be channelled through his soul.”
You were still struggling to understand but gestured for Frisk to continue.
“I don’t have anyone to talk to about this… Toriel doesn’t know about the time magic. None of them do.”
“No one knows?”
They cringed, “Well, I think someone does… but I can’t exactly talk to him about it. He hates it. He made me promise that I wouldn’t reset.”
You didn’t understand the term ‘reset’ but decided to let that slide. Instead, you were considering all the possibilities of who Frisk was talking about. One monster did know about their time magic, but disapproved, it seemed. One knew but wasn’t someone Frisk could talk to.
“Sorry, this is a lot and I’m trying my best, but… why did you say I was in danger?”
“You’re affiliated with us,” they said bluntly, “You’ve been seen too much with us, with me. The people who attacked me… they’re part of a group that wants to put the monsters back underground… or worse. I don’t remember a lot of what happened, but I do know that they mentioned you. They… they threatened me. They said they’d hurt my friends if I kept siding with the monsters. They said they’d kill, if that’s what it took.”
You shivered, feeling uncomfortable and cold. Luna paced over to you and nudged you gently, giving a small wag of her tail when you looked down at her.
“What can I even do to help?”
“You already are… just letting me talk about it.”
“No, seriously, Frisk, this is a big deal,” you looked at Flowey, “How can I help you guys?”
“I don’t know,” they admitted.
They looked as if they had more to say when their phone started to chirp. Their shoulders slumped as they pulled it out and answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Hey mom, I’ll be back soon. I just wanted some fresh air.”
You couldn’t hear what Toriel said, but it sounded frantic. Frisk winced at her tone, “Yes, mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I needed to get out.”
They paused while Toriel spoke, occasionally humming in response. After a moment, they hung up and just stood there, hunched over and shaking.
“I have to go. I know this is a lot and I know it doesn’t make sense right now, but it will. I don’t know how to fix Flowey, but you’re good with all kinds of creatures… if anyone can help us, it’s you.”
“I’ll do anything I can,” you said, your tone filled with a sense of confidence and assurance that you just did not feel. In truth, you felt entirely overwhelmed. Your mind was busy trying to reorganise all that you once knew to accept the idea that humans had magic, souls were real, and someone had threatened the lives of Frisk and your friends—not to mention that they had threatened you as well.
“Don’t worry, Frisk, we’ll figure this out… I’ll… I’ll see if I can do some research.”
They nodded and despite how battered and weary they appeared, there was a sense of relief that shone in their eyes. You had no idea how long they had been carrying these secrets, but it seemed like it had helped them to finally open up. Flowey was quiet during the entire exchange, but as Frisk was getting ready to leave, he looked at you and said, “Thank you.”
It was a long day preceding an even longer week. The shop felt empty without Frisk’s presence and even the animals could tell that you were out of sorts. Your furry customers were never unruly, but they were on their best behaviour for you throughout the week. Luna clung to you like she was afraid you would disappear if she lost sight of you. In all honesty, you appreciated the extra support from her. Your brain felt too full to really grasp a lot of what Frisk had said, but you were doing your best to come to terms with all of the information.
A part of you questioned it and questioned their sanity—could they really be telling the truth? They were young, right? Young people were impressionable and susceptible to illusions of grandeur. Maybe this was their way of coping with what had happened, after all, it would be very traumatic to be attacked by a group of adults just for the company you kept. You hoped they were alright, since you hadn’t heard from them since the conversation at the shop.
You spent a lot of time at your computer, attempting to do research. There wasn’t a lot of resources that talked about monster history and what did exist was often just made up by wacky conspiracy theorists. You’d read all sorts of crazy ideas, like that monsters were vampiric and lived off of human suffering, or that the monsters had locked themselves underground in order to plan an attack to take over the human population. You scoffed at these ideas, frustrated with the absolute lack of basis behind it.
You did find one source, though, that mentioned mages and magic. The mages, apparently, were humans who could do magic in the way that monsters could. It wasn’t very clear what happened or why no mages seemed to exist anymore, but it was something at least. Something confusing.
You sighed; your eyes were burning and tired as you pushed your computer off of your lap. You’d been going down another rabbit hole of fruitless research, attempting to find more information about what Frisk had told you. There was a mysterious lack of anything regarding the history of monsters or the war that pushed them underground. It seemed like you needed to actually go to a library and see what old books they had. There had to be something, you lived in Ebott, after all. Where better to find the history of monsters than the place they originated from, right?
Still, you had been working for hours and needed a break.
As though on cue, your phone chimed with a message alert.
Sansational [8:42 pm]
hey buddy
You smiled as you responded.
Sansational [8:42 pm]
haven’t seen you in a bit, been busy
You couldn’t tell if that was a question or a statement but felt a prickle of guilt. You hadn’t reached out to anyone since your conversation with Frisk. You had… needed some time to process it. Undyne, Papyrus, and even Alphys at one point, had texted you over the course of the week and your responses had been pretty short and to the point. You made excuses to avoid hanging out; you did not feel ready to hang out with anyone. You did not feel ready to pretend like everything was alright when you knew that Frisk was hurting, Asriel was deathly ill, and you were all in danger.
XXX-XXX-XXXX [8:45 pm]
Yeah. Been a rough week. You too?
The response was almost instant.
Sansational [8:45 pm]
yep. paps and i missed you.
been pretty bonely without our coffee dates
Your heart fluttered as you read the word ‘date’. You reread the text twice more, pausing on that simple word each time.
XXX–XXX–XXXX [8:47 pm]
I missed you too
I MISSED YOU BOTH
You sent both texts in quick succession, feeling embarrassed at how quickly you admitted to missing just Sans. It felt like an eternity before your phone dinged again, alerting you to another message from him.
Sansational [8:50 pm]
you busy tomorrow?
With a small smile, you simply answered, “im free”.
You were stressed and overwhelmed, sure, but it would be good to get out of the house and not just to go to work. Besides, it would probably do you some good to see your friends again.
Since that disjointed conversation with Frisk your head had been reeling with all sorts of questions based on the half-conversation you’d had. Their warning about your safety was also on your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly have you in danger?
Sure, there were rumours of humans being verbally abusive toward monsters—you had seen it yourself, but as of yet, there were no incidents of human on monster violence… at least, as far as you were aware.
Perhaps you needed to keep up with the news better?
Then again, if there wasn’t any human on monster violence—well, what happened to Frisk? A bigger question might be, what happened to Asriel? He looked wilted and as though he was ghastly ill. Was he hurt? Or was it something more?
Actually… you didn’t know what happened to monsters when they got hurt. You didn’t know what happened when, or if, they got sick. You weren’t entirely sure if monsters could necessarily die the way people died. It was a morbid train of thought, but you were suddenly feeling as thought it was an important thing to know.
Not to mention, Asriel was certainly not a typical monster. Would he even get sick the same way?
As you lay in bed, eyes tracing the sculpted patterns of the white textured ceiling in your cheap apartment, you realised that you might need to do some reading—or ask your friends more. Maybe Sans—you stopped that thought, you would have better luck asking Papyrus to help you in this endeavour. Sans was a good friend, but also lazy.
Feeling satisfied with that line of thought, your brain flickered over to dissect Frisk’s mention of your ‘aura’.
They were right; you were unnaturally good with pets. You’d been a peacemaker of sorts in school, growing up. You had always been the one to come upon and rescue animals, even the mangiest of them. You were never troubled by your little furry customers despite putting them through the torture of baths, grooming, and other care.
Luna was just one example of a pet who calmed down considerably after being around you. As a youngster she was rough, boisterous, and she was big. She had been somewhat unruly, though loving. Luna was a tough girl, but after you adopted her, she evened out. She calmed down significantly. She was a gentle beast. A gentle giant, so to speak. Though, not so giant, just kind of thick and sturdy.
With thoughts of Luna, you drifted off.
The blankets and sheets pooled around your waist as you sat up in bed. You yawned as you blinked the sleep from your eyes. Your hair was almost as ruffled as your sleep clothes, and you felt all too comfortable to consider getting up.
You were about to flop back down, the thought of more sleep on your mind, when your phone began to ring.
You answered quickly, voice thick with sleep and your mouth just a bit dry, “y-ello?”
“When are you going to visit, dear?”
All of a sudden, you were hit with a flurry of emotions; the briefest flash of disbelief, curbed by the heat of anger, and followed by an overwhelming sense of dread. You didn’t hate many things, certainly, but you hated this. You hated surprise calls from her. You hated that she made you feel so gross. The last time you saw her was as you were packing to leave the house.
“I’m… not sure.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, marked with a put-out sigh. The silence stretched, and you absently rubbed your feet against the fabric of your sheets, waiting for her to speak.
“Well, you can’t avoid your home forever… your brother misses you! I miss you!” Sickly sweet, and completely false.
You felt nauseated.
She continued at your silence, “How about you come up this next weekend to see your dear mama and brother?”
The way she called herself your mother irked you despite the way her voice made you feel ever so small.
“I’m not su—”
“You’re never sure, but sometimes you have to make a sacrifice for your family. Don’t be so selfish. Come visit me and your brother,” she chattered, “There is a whole family gathering happening next week and I would really like for the family to be present for pictures and all.”
Even after having lived on your own for some time, just her voice was able to bring up memories of a less tolerable life. You did not want to go back to that dollhouse. Living a picture-perfect life, posing for the outsides, yet seeing the ugly truth at home. The neglect and the torment endured within that broken household with an overcompensating yet cruel stepmother, an absentee father, miscreant children and dead spouses was no place you would want to return to.
Uneasily you replied simply, “I can’t,” before hanging up the cell phone.
The hand that touched the phone felt dirty, and your cheeks were wet with tears. Frustration, that gut-wrenching dissatisfaction at the outcomes of life gnawed your insides as you lay motionless. Your body felt weak, exhausted more than you’d been before answer the phone. Some people just sap the life out of others. This was one of those times.
Guilt, a useless emotion, welled beneath the surface of your ire. The anger never lasted long. You wondered if you overreacted. You tried, pointlessly, to remind yourself of the negative impact she has had on your life. You tried to reason out that truly you owed her nor your stepbrother anything. You argued that the only reason she wanted you there was to portray that false ideal; she had not changed.
Your phone dinged, breaking you from your ruminations.
Asriel [6:38 am]
We still need to speak to you.
Another message followed the first:
It is impertinent that no one knows that we talked, or what we talked about. Frisk has more to say. Meet us at the SHOP @ 7:00.
You frowned, looking first at the time, just to confirm that it was indeed as early as the text-timestamp stated, and second at the date, to make sure what you already knew: no work today. Frisk didn’t mean your shop, did they?
You only had a little bit of time to get ready and get going if you wanted to try to get there anywhere near seven o’clock.
You weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen, but you were going to get some answers. Or, well, at least try to.
Three words and you were chilled to your core. You choked, unable to speak, the words repeating in your mind. Again. Again. Again. Attacked. Frisk had been attacked. Your friend had been attacked.
You vaguely heard Undyne asking if you had heard, but you still felt unable to respond.
“Smalls?”
You started, as though just remembering Sans was here, in the room, watching you try not to panic. You straightened, tightened your grip on the phone, and swallowed thickly, “Is… I mean… Frisk is okay, right?”
“Yeah! Frisk is a bit beat up… but they’re okay! They want to see you.”
You blinked, “Well, yeah, o-of course, I want to see them too. What happened?”
“We don’t know,” Undyne mumbled, sounding a bit irritated about the fact, “I swear, when I find the people that did this to Frisk… they’re gonna pay.”
You nodded, but quickly realised she couldn’t see you, “Y-yeah. Definitely. Uhm, look, are they up for visitors today?”
“Toriel has them on lock-down, she asked me to let you know Frisk would not be coming into work for a couple days… Look, lil’ punk, Tori will patch Frisk right up, and I will make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
You felt another chill at the venom in her voice. She really was protective of her friends. It warmed your heart to know you had such loyal friends, but you even that comforting knowledge couldn’t erase the fear and anxiety you felt.
Who had attacked Frisk? What had happened to them?
You knew Frisk had trouble at school, but you couldn’t imagine it’d gotten bad enough for someone to actually hurt Frisk.
“I’ve got to go now, punk… we’re gonna talk to Tori and see when we’ll be able to see the pipsqueak. I’ll let ya know what’s going on.”
“Alright, Undyne… Thank you for calling me… I… uh, I’ll call Toriel soon.”
She hung up and your shoulders slumped. It had been… an eventful morning.
Sans coughed, clearing a throat that could not possibly exist, but you humoured the gesture and turned to face him.
“So, the kid is hurt?”
His tone was almost indifferent, it made you uncomfortable, but you nodded, “Yeah… Toriel said something about Frisk being sick? But Undyne made it sound more like Frisk got hurt or attacked by someone else… I don’t really know a whole lot more than that…”
“I’ve got to get going,” he said quickly and suddenly, beginning to edge his way from your tiny kitchen toward the front door.
You blinked, surprised by his change in demeanour, “Oh—I mean, okay.”
“See ya ‘round, Smalls,” he called lazily, with a short wave, and before you could say much more, he was out the front door and gone from sight.
You peeked around the doorframe of your open door, but he wasn’t there. His departure left you feeling brushed aside, but you couldn’t wonder about it for too long—you had more important things to worry about, namely: Frisk.
You were unable to see Frisk that day… nor the next… ultimately, Toriel was not currently allowing visitors for Frisk. She wouldn’t explain why, nor would she explain what had happened to Frisk, and you were left to stew in your worries and anxiety.
Nearly a week passed before you received a text on your phone from a certain little friend, but not the friend you were expecting.
Unknown Sender [10:32 am]
Frisk would like to talk with you. – Flowey
You blinked, wracking your brain for why the name “Flowey” was both familiar and unfamiliar. Suddenly you remember a conversation a while back with little Frisk about their flower-shaped ‘brother’.
XXX-XXX-XXXX [10:34 am]
Flowey?
Unknown Sender [10:38 am]
Yes. Hurry here. Toriel is out. - Flowey
XXX-XXX-XXXX [10:40 am]
Ok ill be there asap
“Little Lu, I’m headed out, it seems important,” you smiled at her, but the action did not hide the worry in your eyes. She seemed to sense your apprehension, giving you a small lick and comforting wag of her tail.
Quickly, you grabbed you’re a bag and threw your keys, a phone, and pair of headphones in before rushing out of your apartment. Nice clothes be damned, you were still dressed in baggy joggers and a loose-fitting t-shirt, but you could not care less about appearances. You could feel worry mix with anticipation in the pit of your stomach—whatever it was that Asriel himself had to call you over for must be important.
You arrived at their front door, hair falling out of the haphazard holder you placed it in. Gingerly, you knocked, “Hello?”
The door creaked open, but it was otherwise silent and empty.
Cautiously, you called out once more, “Hello?” before slipping into the house, closing the front door behind you.
It was dim, the lights were out, but even that detail couldn’t diminish the overwhelming warm atmosphere of the house itself. It was comforting, even in its apparent emptiness. It figured that a house owned by the warm and gracious Toriel would just naturally be welcoming and cosy even in her absence.
“Up here,” a voice called.
You glanced up the stairway, briefly looking at the photos that lined the walls. You studied them as you slowly crept up the stairs. They showed smiling faces, Frisk squished between their goat-mother, and adoptive goat-father. Frisk, in a little business suit, a nervous smile on their face as they waited outside some large, official-looking building. You presumed it was of their first equality-talk meeting. Sometimes you forgot that Frisk was an ambassador, and as such, had official responsibilities and jobs.
You looked at one other photo, it showed a brightly smiling Frisk, holding a brown, clay pot with a very disgruntled flower sitting inside. You reached a hand up to trace the edge of the frame as you took in what—or who—you presumed to be “Flowey”, or Frisk called typically called him, Asriel.
He was larger than any flower you’d seen before, the petals large and velvety looking, coloured a snow-white, his stem was dark green, with large leaves unfolding from it. He had on a small cone-hat, it looked like Frisk had a matching one. It seemed like some kind of birthday celebration. The smile on his face was eerie, almost menacing.
In the background of the photo, you saw something that gave you pause: the outline of someone that looked almost exactly like you, but before you could look closer, you heard Frisk call out again.
“Coming,” you shouted back, before heading the rest of the way up the stairs.
You walked up to a closed bedroom door; one with many stickers plastered across its front. You smiled, feeling a wave of nostalgia at the childishness of the door and the stickers. You knocked once, then twice, then slipped inside.
You looked over the room, noting how clean it was—too clean. It seemed void of personality, and empty, completely contrasting the door. Frisk, who was laying under the covers of their bed, gave a small wave.
They looked… exhausted. Their hair lay limp, and dull, their cheeks were flushed, but beneath that flush their skin looked almost sickly in its pallor. The shadows under their eyes reminded you of the way you looked on those sleepless nights where nightmares haunted your reality.
“Frisk?”
They gave a relieved smile and shuffled to sit up. They said nothing for a moment but pointed behind you. You followed their gesture, to rest your eyes on a very wilted flower.
It was unnaturally large, looking almost like a sunflower, but the petals were much large than any sunflower you’d ever seen. You could see a couple of the large, white petals had fallen off, and they lay around the brown, clay pot in various stages of decay. The stem of the flower was discoloured, almost yellow rather than a healthy green like shown in the photos on the staircase.
He, quite frankly, looked as though he were dying.
Frisk spoke, “I can’t fix it anymore. I need your help.”
You’d had a long day (something about spending several hours washing multiple overly excited dogs that had managed to worm their way into a—rather disgusting—sewer just before they’d arrived at your store to be bathed was pretty exhausting—and that didn’t even include the clean-up you’d had to do after they were gone).
And now that you were finally home, the clock on your little kitchen counter showing a solid ‘7:03 pm’, you decided there was no harm in calling it a night a littler earlier than your normal. Besides, nothing seemed better than laying your head down to rest and getting to sleep in the next day.
That sounded nice… go to bed, get extra sleep, start tomorrow on a good note…
Which was your brilliant plan until you entered your bedroom, changed clothes, let Luna up onto your bed—watching for a moment as she got herself comfortable—and saw, beside your dog who had gone to sleep almost immediately (if the heavy snores coming from her were any indication), sitting there, clear as day, up on your bed, the screen invitingly bright, with Netflix so tauntingly already opened on the browser, your laptop, the series you’d been watching already up and queued to go.
Maybe it’d be fine to just… watch a few shows…
It wasn’t until the short ‘ding’ and flare of bright, white light from your phone that you realized just how late it had gotten. Your eyes were drooping with exhaustion and your mind felt numb. You couldn’t even remember what had happened in the last few episodes of the show you’d been attempting to watch. You’d been dozing off too much to pay attention.
Briefly you checked your phone, sighing with exasperation at the name that came up.
Sansational [2:56 am]
come over? ;)
XXX-XXX-XXXX [2:59 am]
No??? It’s late??? Go to sleep???
Sansational [3:00 am]
my parents aren’t home ;)))
You huffed, face flushing slightly, eyes rolling even though he couldn’t see it, as you responded to his ridiculous text.
XXX-XXX-XXXX [3:01 am]
Nooo, go to bed, bone boy.
Sansational [3:06]
wait… can i come over?
Sansational [3:06]
… please?
The sudden change from his teasing tone and winking-emoji woke you up from your hazy state instantly.
You typed out a quick ‘you okay?’ followed by a ‘sure… come right over’ as you pulled yourself from your warm nest of blankets. You’d never really talked to him about why he always seemed to be up late at night, but in passing, over one of your many coffee dates, he’d mentioned something about nightmares and insomnia. You’d then offered him your home in case he ever needed company. He’d offered you the same.
And even though you’d never taken him up on the deal, you appreciated the gesture.
Except now, it seemed that he really did need some help, despite the casual banter of his earlier texts. You suddenly felt stupid (stupid, selfish, uncaring); you should have realized, from the first text, that he probably wasn’t doing alright, considering he’d texted you so late—an occurrence that hadn’t happened in a while after you whined to him (multiple times, actually) about your interrupted sleep.
He’d known what a rough day you’d had, after all, you’d been texting him about it all day. He wouldn’t bother you for something silly, not this late at night.
You felt overwhelming worry now, he hadn’t responded yet, and it’d been a few minutes from your last text.
You paced around your kitchen, putting water on the stove to boil, grabbing out the bread to make toast, and climbing up onto the counter to grab a pair of mismatched mugs. You hopped off, bread and mugs in hand and placed them carefully on the counter before kneeling, shuffling about in one of the lower cabinets to grab out your hot chocolate mix. With a moment of hesitation, you reached back in and grabbed out the marshmallows.
Maybe Sans would like marshmallows in his hot cocoa. It was something your mother had always done for you when you’d come to her crying after nightmares, bullies, or anything that could bring you down. She’d push your hair out of your face, kiss your forehead, and set about to making two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. And the two of you would talk, and talk, and talk.
You shook yourself from your reverie, pushing the bread into the toaster and looking around to see if anything else could be prepped or done. Everything seemed to be ready.
As an afterthought though, you grabbed out your phone and set some light music to play in the background. It served to ease the silence of your dark apartment.
“There…” you mumbled, yawning sleepily and stretching out, back arching in a catlike manner.
Knock. Knock. It was small and hesitant, but you grinned in spite of the circumstance.
“Who’s there!?” You called out in a sing-song voice.
A muffled groan sounded from the other side of the door, before you heard his deep rumbling tone, “Ach.”
You rolled your eyes, “Ach who?”
“Bless you.”
The door opened and you were met with the sight of a very tired Sans.
You worried the edge of your lip, fidgeting slightly; as you took in his exhausted eyes, the dark circles at the bottom of his hollowed, saddened eyes; as you saw the lines of stress replace the laughter that was usually present on his ever-joking face, and you noticed, for the first time since you’d met him, his lack of smile on his always-grinning mouth.
Something was clearly wrong, but he seemed hesitant to say it.
“Come in,” you said, gesturing for him to follow you in—hoping that he’ll talk to you, that he’ll joke, and that he’ll show you that you have no reason to worry.
But the quiet “Thanks,” and shuffle of him following you into your cosy apartment only added to your knowledge that something was very, very wrong.
“Hot chocolate?” You asked, giving him a small smile. He matched it with one of his own, but it was too stiff, too sad, too empty to be real.
“I also made some toast, I don’t know about you, but I like late night snacks, s’pecially when I’m not feeling so great…” You trailed off awkwardly, your eyes flicking from him then down to your feet, unsure if you overstepped by bringing up his current state.
He didn’t seem to mind, only nodded, then, realizing you couldn’t see it, grunted in affirmation.
The silence stretched, interrupted only by the hum of the microwave and the light strumming of a guitar from your phone.
Neither of you knew what to say, and for the first time since you’d met there was an awkwardness and a tension.
Would it be rude to ask, ‘what’s up?’ You wondered, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes. He seemed to be just as confused, and unsure as you were.
“Sorry for waking you up…”
You blinked, a frown on your face, “No, no, you’re fine. I was already awake…”
For a moment the two of you stared at one another, you took in his weary face, the slight perspiration on his skull, and the too-tired way he leaned against the counter, hands in his pockets. You could only imagine what you looked like yourself, a long day at work, and late-night Netflix marathon wasn’t exactly the best combination for a put-together appearance.
“We’re both kind of a mess, aren’t we?”
He cracked a smile, a genuine one, and though it was small, it was fragile, and it was hesitant; you felt a flood of relief at the sight of that little sliver of normalcy. Maybe he wasn’t okay, but really, when was anyone ‘okay’?
The beep of the microwave coincided with the ding of the toaster and you flinched.
He laughed, “Jumpy?”
You shot him a glare, but there was no real anger in your eyes.
“Here you go, freshly made hot cocoa…” You handed him the drink and he thanked you. You smiled, “It’s just like my momma makes—made it…”
The words came before you could stop them, falling like dominos, and you felt a heaviness in your chest—don’t think about it, you scolded yourself, this isn’t about you right now, you need to be happy for Sans. Not thinking about your dead mother.
He didn’t comment on your slip up, and for that you were grateful. You turned away, smearing peanut butter onto the toast and humming along to the song that played on your phone.
The two of you ate quietly, sipping your drinks (he liked the marshmallows, you were glad you’d thought of it). An easy, casual banter hiding the things unsaid. You would have been content with just that, not prying, not asking for explanations, but it seemed Sans had something he wanted to say. You waited, watching each of his small hesitations, his starts and stops, the way he would sigh and fiddle with his now empty mug.
It finally came when you offered to make him another cup.
“I get nightmares sometimes.”
You glanced at him, mugs in hand, studying the closed-off expression on his face, “Yeah?”
“About things that happened, but...” He hesitated and toyed with the zipper on his blue winter jacket.
“But what?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to remember what’s real and what’s not… It feels like a flashback, but I don’t think the things actually happened.” He looked up at you suddenly, and you did your best not to wither underneath his intense gaze, “The dreams can be violent. Sometimes people I love die. Sometimes I die… but it didn’t happen…”
Your gut clenched uncomfortably, “Yeah… I… I get dreams like that… but… for me, they’re… uh, memories.” They did happen, you finished to yourself.
He nodded, a grimace on his face. Sans stayed silent for a moment, studying you, looking around your apartment, shifting his weight onto his other foot, before mumbling something that you couldn’t quite hear.
“What…?”
“I’m a monster.”
You blinked, once, twice, before sputtering into a somewhat disbelieving laugh, “No way.” You couldn’t help the sarcasm in your voice, despite the seriousness of the situation. He looked up sharply, brow bones furrowed with barely concealed agitation.
“I’m sorry.”
“S’fine.”
“Sans?” You were staring at your socked feet, wiggling your toes against the linoleum of your little kitchen.
He didn’t say anything, only stood, watching you.
“I get bad dreams, too…” You chewed on your lip thoughtfully for a moment, “I don’t like to be touched, it makes my skin crawl, it makes me feel sick…”
He was nodding, a soft look in his eyes, almost like he understood somehow—even though he didn’t—he couldn’t—it was impossible for him to understand.
“Some… people… or… someone I used to know… they… did a bad thing. It made it hard for me to be at home,” you paused, swallowing thickly, your eyes blurring with unshed tears—you willed yourself not to cry, “He’s a monster, Sans. Not like you, or Undyne, or Papyrus. He’s a monster who did a bad thing, and maybe he’s done it to others, too… You’re Sans, you’re a skeletal monster but not… not like, a human monster.”
“Human monster?”
“Yeah,” you sighed, “a human monster.”
“I killed people… I killed in my dreams…”
You weren’t sure what to say, how to respond—there wasn’t anything you could really express through words to make him feel better. Instead, you laid a gentle hand on his elbow, looking up at him with a kind face and a small smile, “They’re dreams, Sans… Like you said, they didn’t happen.”
He was nodding, but he didn’t look convinced. He did, however, look relieved.
“Thanks, smalls.”
You giggled at the name, and he chuckled along with you. Sans didn’t say anything more, and you didn’t prompt him to, but you enjoyed his company, and you’d like to think that he enjoyed yours too.
“Anytime Sans…”
He stayed the night, you made him a bed on the couch with a plethora of pillows and blankets. He hadn’t wanted to be alone though, and you’d ended up sitting with him on the couch for quite a while. In fact, the two of you had sat there almost all night just talking. He didn’t mention the nightmares again, though he did talk about the confusion of what was real and what was not.
You liked talking to him, you already knew that, but it still surprised you how much you enjoyed talking to him.
You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, only that there was weight at your side and over your shoulder, and that you weren’t in your own bed. You were groggy, eyes half lidded and heavy with exhaustion.
“Nngh,” you sighed, blinking the sleep away, as you turned your head to the side. It took a few seconds to register before you realized that the pressure at your shoulder was an arm, and the weight on your side was a rather large, and very asleep skeleton—the same skeleton who had crashed your house late at night.
Your heart picked up its pace as you took stock of your situation. You’d just happened to fall asleep next to one of your friends, which had meant you’d been comfortable and relaxed enough to fall asleep, which invariably meant you trusted him enough to be vulnerable like that—furthermore, you even told him a little bit more about your past, something you didn’t do for anyone.
He grumbled in his sleep as you tried to extricate yourself from his grasp, your movements only succeeded in making him hold you tighter, slinging his other arm around you and leaning heavily into your small frame. You kicked your feet awkwardly against the couch, trying to think of a better way to deal with this.
“S-Sans?” You squeaked out.
A sigh was all you got in response.
“Sans, wake up…”
Nothing.
“Sans!” You called, louder this time, “Wake the fuck up or so help me… I will, uh…” you fumbled around with your words, unable to think of any threat fast enough.
He cracked open one eye and laughed, “You’ll what?”
From your position, squished between the arm of the couch and him, you glowered, “I’ll fight you, or something…”
He laughed again and you narrowed your eyes, “Oh, just get up, Sans.”
Sans sighed loudly, making a show of just how ‘difficult’ it was for him to move. He shuffled, groaned, muttered, complained, and whined while he leaned up and off of you and stood from the couch.
If you weren’t so focused on just how hot your own face was, maybe you would have noticed the light dusting of a blue blush on his cheekbones.
He composed himself before you saw it and made no mention of the pink on your cheeks.
“You’re such a lazy bones,” you said, rolling your eyes at his grin, “What time is it?”
“I dunno,” he responded languidly.
You huffed, “Well, do you have plans for today?”
He shrugged, “Depends, do you have something in mind?”
“Maybe some breakfast, or lunch, depending on the time… but, not really.”
“Food sounds good.”
You nodded, “Okay, just let me… like, shower, and wake up, and stuff. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
You headed to your room, checking on Luna (who was still snoring softly, but woke when you came in), and grabbed some clothing to change into.
The small bathroom that was beside your room was dark, but cosy, decorated with a single large mirror, floral curtains, and a fuzzy bathroom rug. You flipped the light switched, pulled off all but your undergarments, shoved the curtain back, and screamed.
Sans was there in an instant, left eye flashing dangerously, a light blue flickering with yellow, “What is it!?”
You squeaked, running back into him and pointing toward the offending tub.
He looked between you and the tub with confusion but took a step forward to peer down into the bath.
“I don’t get what’s wrong…” the colour in his left eye was gone, replaced by the regular dark sockets and light pupils.
“S-spider.”
“Spider?” He asked, incredulous.
“Yes! Spider! Get it… please?” You felt pathetic, but your phobia was getting the best of you.
He reached into the tub, plucking the small eight-legged creature out with ease, “This spider?”
“Ack! D-don’t grab it! Kill it!”
“What? No, Muffet will murder my ass…”
You blinked, curiosity and confusion outweighing your fear, “Muffet?”
“Yeah, Muffet, like, spider-queen lady, lots of arms, have you never met her?”
“No… She sounds… terrifying.”
He laughed, “She’s actually pretty cute, kind of like you.”
Your face burned up, and his matched with a bright blue. To his credit though, he didn’t stumble on his next sentence, “So, you, the girl who literally decked Undyne, is afraid of a little spider?”
You furrowed your brows, “Oh shut up, I’m not afraid, I just… don’t… like them.”
There was a beat, before you continued, “And hey! I did not deck Undyne.”
He leaned toward you, spider cupped gently in his hands, and made out as though to give it over to you.
You squeaked again, “Okay no, no, not necessary, just… take it outside, please.”
Sans’ laugh echoed as he took the spider out of the bathroom, you glared at his retreating back, and as though he could sense you staring, he turned and gave you a wink.
As soon as the ordeal was over, you closed the door, stripped fully (your face heating again as you realized that Sans had just walked in on you half naked), and hopped into the shower. The warm water cascaded down your body and soaked through your hair. You sighed, breathing deeply as you leaned against the tiled wall, letting the now hot water soothe your tensed muscles and relax your mind. You could stay here forever, and maybe you would, but there was an incessant knocking at the bathroom door, interrupting your sense of calm in the shower.
“What do you want, Sans?” You called out.
“Your phone won’t shut up,” he replied easily.
“Who is it?” You responded, feeling a spike of worry—had your brother called again?
“Undyne!” Came the quick answer. You frowned, as far as you were aware she had no reason to be calling you. Right? You hadn’t forgotten about some sort of meeting or something, right?
You turned the water off, feeling cold all too suddenly, “I’ll be out in a sec, Sans.”
Showered, mostly dried, and fully dressed you stepped out of the bathroom; a towel wrapped around your head. Sans was sitting on the couch, looking at something on his phone. While you were gone, he’d taken the time to straighten up the living room and clean up the mess of the kitchen. The blankets you’d pulled out for him were folded and the extra pillows laid carefully on top. It was sweet.
You smiled, shuffling over to him and flopped down on the other side of the couch, “Did she leave a message?”
He nodded, handing you your phone with a serious expression.
Your felt apprehension as you looked down at the screen. It flashed, 5 missed calls. 2 voice mails. 3 text messages.
The first one read: Hey, the littler pipsqueak isn’t feeling great, Toriel told me to relay the message that Frisk won’t be coming into work.
You frowned, all those calls and texts just to say Frisk was sick? You called Undyne, standing up and pacing as your phone rang and rang.
Finally, she picked up, “Hey kid! What took you so fucking long to answer?”
“Undyne—er, well, I had… a guest… er, yeah. I stayed up late, and stuff.”
You could hear her snickering over the line, “Let me guess, Sans?”
“N-no, well, I mean, yeah, but,”
“BUT NOTHING!” She cackled, “I KNEW you guys were a thing!”
You groaned, “Undyne, please—”
Undyne interrupted you, asking all about Sans and what the two of you were up to last night—you were trying not to blush at the implications she was leaving. Before she could tease you much more, though, Alphys cut through in the background, reprimanding her for something.
“O-oh… yeah, uhm, so the lil’ punk isn’t doing so well… and well, they don’t want you to worry, but, I think you should visit them anyway… They… they’re not… well, Toriel said they’re sick, but… er, well, it’s best if you just visit them yourself.”
Undyne was staring you down, a devilish gleam in her one visible eye. She looked downright wolfish, like she was ready to gobble you up. Honestly, you were feeling a strong urge to run and hide, but your measly pride prevented you from doing so. You couldn’t lose face in front of her, not after making such a great (read: awkward) first impression.
After all, you needed to live up to Undyne’s aggressive expectations with this oddly aggressive friendship.
In any case, you’d been expecting this sort of confrontation. If anything, it was surprising it hadn’t happened sooner. Besides, in a friend group so tight like theirs was, you don’t just go on two weeks’ worth of coffee dates without someone finding out.
And that someone was not just a one, but rather a two—a rather devious duo, Alphys and Undyne.
The only issue is that they had cornered you on your way home from a long walk.
Firstly, you weren’t in your element—you hadn’t even managed to make it into your apartment, secondly, it was way too early in the morning to deal with the accusations these two were throwing at you, and lastly, your beast of a service dog was currently attempting to lick the two previously mentioned pair.
What a traitor.
You weren’t really frustrated with any of them, maybe just a little caught off-guard, which made it difficult to deny their hefty assumption that you were currently shacking up with their boney, funny (read: dumb pun, jokester), skeleton of a friend.
So here you stood, in the hallway of your apartment, gesturing for the truly cruel monster pair to follow you into your little home as your face and neck went up in flames. Despite your many protests, the bright red blush all over was seriously undermining your objections.
“You two are totally banging,” Undyne sang as Alphys sipped from the floral teacup you’d given her. Undyne had her own drink in hand and was leaning against the small counter in your kitchenette so casually like she wasn’t currently turning you into an embarrassed puddle of a human.
The worst part being how terribly smug she was about the whole ordeal. She just wouldn’t stop teasing.
“Oh my god!” You squeaked, “I am not, have not, and will not be—ever—going to the bone zone with the bone boy.” You emphasized each remark with finger-quotations; but if Undyne and Alphys’ giggles were anything to go by, they didn’t buy your determined and no-nonsense expression.
“Bone boy?” Undyne asked incredulously.
“Bone zone?” Alphys asked cackling gleefully.
“Both of you need to shut up, right now, immediately,” you mumbled, your cheeks aflame, “I did not invite you over to get made fun of… I’m not about that life…”
Alphys snorted; Undyne wheezed with laughter.
“Actually, I didn’t invite you over at all!”
Their giggles wouldn’t stop.
“Seriously, you guys! I’m not—we’re not! There is nothing between us!”
They were giggling maniacally now, but you’d paused in your flustered denials, “Besides… how would that even, like, work? He doesn’t have… have… a… uh…”
They watched you struggle to find the words with matching slightly bemused (but mostly amused) expressions.
“You know,” you hissed, “a… d-dick.”
Alphys gasped and Undyne snickered.
“So, you are a little skele-fucker.” Undyne accused, pointing at you with a wicked grin.
“I am n-not! You guys are… r-ridiculou—”
Alphys chimed in with “ri-dick-ulous.”
But before you were able to shut down their absurd notions (more like stop the endless teasing by your very determined friends), your phone started to ring; effectively cutting off whatever inappropriate conversation Undyne and Alphys had been about to have with you, about you and your presumed boney lover.
“Is it Sans?” One of them asked, a cheeky (and somewhat smug) smile on their face.
“Is it your vertabae?” The other carolled.
“It’s my… heh, uh, my bother…” They sobered almost immediately upon the nervous tone in your voice, “I need to take this… sorry,” Your face was uncharacteristically serious despite the forced laugh in your voice.
The two monsters exchanged looks as you walked into the other room, phone gripped too tightly and pressed flat to your ear.
“I didn’t know she had a brother…” Undyne muttered worriedly, “It seems serious, do you think the little punk’ll be alright?”
“I… uh, I don’t know…”
They both glanced toward your closed bedroom door, worry etched clearly on their faces.
“What?” You asked sharply, trying your best to keep your voice down.
It was becoming increasingly harder to stay calm with every word your brother spoke. If it weren’t for the fact that you had company—actual, real, live friends (which was a fact that was not lost on you)—in the other room you would have started crying already—instead, you were doing your best to cope with the crazy news your brother had just dropped on you; by laughing a little too loudly and a little too hysterically to really fool anyone.
Better to laugh than cry, right? Right? (Hint: It wasn’t, but you weren’t sure how else to deal with the current whirlwind of emotions circling through your head).
Your brother was doing his best to calm you down, but it wasn’t exactly helping.
“It’s okay, dude, it’s all okay.”
“How is this fucking okay!?” You started, your voice high and angry; “You just laid it on me that your—er, our mother is dying, so I mean like, yeah, of course it’s fine, ha, yeah, it’s great… Super. Fucking. Great.” Your voice was bitter and getting louder with each word.
You glanced at the door of your bedroom. You couldn’t—shouldn’t—stay on the phone all day, Undyne and Alphys were over, and it would be rude to keep them waiting.
But common sense told you this was more important.
“C’mon kid—”
“Don’t ‘c’mon kid’ me, I’m an adult now and I seriously don’t need you to baby me…” Your voice was shaking, but otherwise steely.
“She wants to see you.”
“Yeah? Well, she should have thought about that before she fucked me over, before she tried to change everything.”
“Don’t be like that, I’ll make sure you’re okay; you don’t even have to stay long—don’t have to say hello to anyone else, but she… kiddo, she really wants to see you.”
If it were anyone else, you would have hung up by now with a quick and sharp ‘fuck you’, but some small part of you wanted to give your brother the benefit of the doubt and hear him out.
Most of you, though, just wished he’d never called. There were reasons you’d isolated yourself from your family—reasons that involved your mother’s death, involved your new ‘mother’s’ appearance, and your half-brother’s stupidity.
You didn’t hate your family, but you sure didn’t like them.
“I don’t want to see her.”
He sighed, and you could hear the exasperation in his tone when he responded with a cold, “Stop being selfish, just come see your dying mother.”
“She’s not my mother,” there was a ferocity in your tone that made him pause, but only for a moment.
“She sees you as her daughter.” His tone was clearly trying to placate you and your anger, but it wasn’t working.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” you replied harshly before angrily ending the call.
With a tired sigh you flopped down onto your bed, the springs creaking with your added weight. Luna stood and leapt up to lay beside you. If she could speak you swear, she’d be asking “are you okay?” The pure concern and love in her eyes was overwhelming.
And in that moment, you were anything but okay.
“Luna, am I really selfish for not wanting to see her?”
She shuffled a little closer to your, her warmth and presence giving you something to ground yourself with. You turned to her and were soon threading your hands through her short fur and whispering half-baked sentences, excuses, and reasons on why you should most definitely not go to see your mother-not-mother.
But Luna didn’t understand any of it, despite the intelligence she had. And she never would, but she could, at the very least, sense you were upset, and she was trying her best to make you feel better.
You hadn’t even noticed you’d started crying until she licked the tears from your face.
“Luna, stop,” you groaned, turning away from her as she pushed her cold nose into your ear and continued to lick at your neck and chin. Her silly antics had the intended effect though, as you finally cracked a smile, still feeling like nothing was okay, but that it might, at least, eventually be okay.
“As long as I have you, girlie, I can get through this. We can get through this.”
Her tail thumped excitedly against the bed as you started to get up; she was probably hoping you’d play with her or something.
But you weren’t exactly in the mood, besides, you still had company—unless they’d ditched you because of the annoyingly and exhaustingly long phone call. You wouldn’t exactly blame them.
“Sorry about that, guys, I, uh, phone call,” you mumbled as you walked out of your room, the carpeted floor making you near silent as you re-entered the kitchenette. They were pretty much still where you’d left them, making small talk that died down the moment you appeared.
Just seeing them made you feel the slightest bit relieved. They hadn’t left. They still maybe wanted to hang out—hopefully they’d stop teasing you about Sans. He was a good friend—and that was all, just a good friend.
“Hey lil’ punk, ya all right?” Undyne asked, looking almost… concerned. Actually, now that you were looking at both of them… You could see worry and anxiety so apparent on each of their faces.
It brought a feeling of amazement to you. You had led such a lonely life before you’d stumbled upon Frisk, and as a result, all of Frisk’s monstrous friends. It was no longer just you and Luna against the world. It was you and Frisk… and Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, and Toriel. You had a support system… You had friends that were kind, and non-judgmental.
You weren’t alone anymore.
There was a warm feeling in your chest, and you didn’t feel great, but you felt like with Undyne and Alphys, in this moment, here and now, you felt safe, and almost happy despite the stress of the phone call.
“I’m alright, just some family issues,” you replied evasively. You may trust them, you may even love them, but you weren’t about to tell them about your stepmother and brother and all the baggage that came with them. A smaller part of you, deep down in the depths of your soul cried, ‘you can’t tell them, they’ll leave’. ‘You’ll be alone again.’ ‘Alone. Alone. Alone.’
“You can tell us anything, you know?” Undyne called in a voice so soft you almost didn’t realize she’d spoken. You looked up at her with a small smile.
“Thank you, but I’m okay.”
They didn’t question you further, and for that, you were grateful.
“If you s-say so…” Alphys said quietly, “uhm… s-so… do you want to go somewhere for lunch?”
“Yeah, I’d like to get out of this place for a while…”
“Papyrus is always cooking about now, how ‘bout we crash his house?” Undyne had a gleam in her eye as she suggested it, and you could already feel that some sort of plan was forming in her mind.
Despite your better judgement, you agreed and the three of you headed on your way, Luna in tow.
Papyrus was nothing if not ecstatic as you guys showed up at his doorstep. He was actually already waiting, pacing back and forth across the wooden desk as he wrung his skeletal hands together excitedly. Undyne had texted him right as your little group had left, and he’d responded with overjoyed “YES!”
Just seeing how excited he was made you smile, and you began to feel as though the heated conversation you’d had with your brother was melting away—as though being around this fun-loving and kind group could just melt your worries away. Papyrus ushered your little group into the house, and you were surprised to see Frisk inside and perched on the couch.
“Hey Frisky-business,” you called out.
They squealed with happiness upon seeing you, launching themselves roughly into your arms. The two of you toppled backward and your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and fear as you fell.
A pair of strong arms caught you and a deep voice rumbled into your ear, “I didn’t think it’d be so easy to get you two to fall for me.” It was teasing and casual and sent a jolt of happy warmth through your body.
Frisk blushed heavily, giggling all too sweetly as they looked up at Sans with big, round, happy eyes.
You wanted to sing, ‘You have a cru-uh-ushhh’, but mercifully kept quiet. No need to embarrass your adorable little volunteer worker (and at the rate that they were learning, soon to be paid worker, assuming you could afford it).
Unlike Frisk, you were far calmer and just threw Sans a wink and a smirk as you straightened yourself, “Nice to see you, too.”
He shoved his hands back into his pockets, chuckling softly, “Are ya hungry?”
“Yeah, tibia honest, I’m starving…” you giggled, “Look at me! I’m bare bones.”
Sans outright laughed, and you felt accomplished.
You weren’t usually clever enough or quick-witted enough to come up with puns, but skeleton puns were actually fairly easy. To say it simply, you had a skele-ton of skele-puns.
Lunch was a casual affair, despite how Papyrus’ turned the serving of food into an overzealous production. You and Sans sat side by side and occasionally he’d glance your way, but every time you met his gaze he’d turn away and start a conversation with someone else. He obviously wanted to say something to you. You just couldn’t figure out what.
It wasn’t until you were finished eating and the main group (sans Sans and yourself) had migrated out to the living room that he coughed, grabbing your attention from the dish you were currently washing.
“You don’t have to do that, kid.”
“You guys fed us, it’s only fair I help out…”
He shrugged, “If you want, I guess…”
Silence stretched between the two of you and you returned to carefully scrubbing the plate clean of spaghetti sauce. Occasionally, you could hear an outbreak of laughter from the other room and something about standing in the kitchen, washing dishes after a home-cooked meal with the quiet company of Sans seemed so… domestic… and so nostalgic, that you couldn’t help but feel almost saddened—as though you’d lost something you hadn’t ever had in the first place.
You couldn’t put a name to the feeling, you weren’t sure if it was anything anyone could ever explain, but the feeling of loss was reverberating in your soul. Another, even more foreign feeling was also making its presence known. You thought back to Undyne’s and Alphys’ misguided accusations and wondered… perhaps there was some truth in the idea.
You glanced at Sans from the corner of your eye, only to see that he was watching you so intensely it made your heart leap wildly in your chest.
He didn’t even look ashamed when you turned to face him, after clearly catching him staring.
Instead, he surprised you with a soft expression and a question, “Are you okay?”
And for once, you felt like answering honestly. It wouldn’t be so bad, right? To be honest with someone just this once?
“… No,” you answered, meeting his eyes with an unwavering gaze, “I’m really not okay.”
It wasn’t until later, after everyone had left, that Sans and Papyrus were left in relative peace. Things could never truly be quiet and peaceful in a house that Papyrus was a resident in, but it was as calm as it’d ever be.
Sans was lounging on the couch, slipper covered feet resting casually on the coffee table. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets as normal but wasn’t wearing his characteristic grin. He couldn’t get the expression on your face out of his mind—nor could he forget your spontaneous honesty.
He wasn’t really sure what to do with the information you’d given him, as much as he could remember from your previous meetings, you’d never been so direct. So honest. So candid. And he’d never wanted anything more in that moment of you baring your heart than to just wrap you up in his arms and hold you tight.
But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t. It wasn’t the right moment, the right time. It wasn’t right. Nothing about it was right. None of this should be happening.
And he knew that, he knew it shouldn’t be happening this way—that there was something off about things, and that he shouldn’t have trusted you after only knowing you for a month or two, but he couldn’t help it. You were… like a breath of fresh air.
Somehow, someway, almost impossibly and uncannily you reminded him of his first steps out of the Underground. You reminded him of the sudden safety and freedom he’d felt upon seeing the trees, the rocks, the dirt, the grass, the sky—oh god, the sky, and that lovely burning, yellow, bright, large orb in the sky—the sun. You were like the sun—your soul even more so, with how brightly it shone sometimes.
He wanted to see it shine brightly all the time, not just when you were drunkenly, dopily happy.
He wanted to see you happy.
Suddenly, he was hit with how strongly he felt for you, especially considering how short the amount of time he’d spent with you. Granted, quality over quantity was what mattered, right? And he could attest to how great his lunch dates, movie nights, and stupidly dumb late-night text conversations were with you.
He shook himself, shifting slightly on the couch. He needed to stop overanalysing his relationship with you—it was too complicated as it was. He didn’t need to add to it with his stupid suspicions and worries.
Papyrus stood in the kitchen, staring intently into the pot of spaghetti sauce. It was bubbling, gurgling, and probably needed stirred, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deal with it just yet. There was a thought on his mind and for once in his life, he was finding it hard to articulate his feelings.
Honesty was the best course of action, right? Papyrus had never been one for lying. He believed, as many others have said, that “liars never prosper”. Or… was it cheaters?
He shook his head, his jawbone clicking slightly, cheaters or liars, they were one in the same… and either way, neither of them would prosper.
“SANS…?” Papyrus called.
He waited.
“SANS!?” He called again, finally hearing the tell-tale shuffle of his lazy brother getting up.
“What’s up, Paps?”
Papyrus paused, he was losing his nerve—he had never hesitated before, so why was he hesitating now? The tall skeleton fiddled with the pot on the stove, turning it this way and that way, half-heartedly stirring the sauce with a wooden ladle. He was stalling, he never stalled.
Sans was beginning to feel just the slightest bit apprehensive, “You okay, bro?”
“SANS.”
“Paps.”
“The human… they’re quite cute… aren’t they?”
Sans sputtered, unable to answer, and entirely caught off-guard by the question, but Papyrus didn’t notice. He didn’t notice the look of shock on Sans’ face, nor the fear, nor, even, the smallest flickers of jealousy that were apparent on Sans’ boney face. There wasn’t a whole lot that Sans could respond with—anything he said would have given him away. He didn’t know what to do… this… had never happened before. So, he said the only thing he could.
“I-I guess.”
Sans didn’t see the slight blush on Papyrus’s face.
“I, like, distinctly remember telling you not to text at three in the fucking morning,” your irritation was more for show, but also because, you certainly didn’t want to encourage this annoying habit.
You were, of course, referring to his multiple late-night texts that hadn’t happened just last night, but (once you’d bothered to check) several nights in a row. And honestly, you just were not about that life—meaning, you were going to fight someone, even the rather large and somewhat imposing Sans, if it meant you’d be able to sleep through the night without another three-in-the-fucking-morning text.
“You said I could,” he responded simply, an impish smile on his face.
You sputtered for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and indignation, “What!? No, I did not!”
“Nah, yeah, ya did, kid, you said, and I quote,” he paused, raising his voice an octave to try and mimic yours, “‘Don’t text me at three in the morning—or do’ and so obviously, that means do, so I did.”
You snorted, throwing your hands up with exasperation, “I vaguely remember an exchange like that, b-but, like, what the hell man?”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Who texts someone at three in the morning for no, like, real reason? I mean, like, if you’re dying or some shit, then yeah, I get it, but like, you ain’t dead,” you tried to soften your tone with a smile, but nothing could really hide the exasperated lilt in your words.
Something dark flickered across his expression, so fast you couldn’t quite put a name to the emotion. He scoffed, a smirk on his face and his eyes half-lidded, the bright whites of the pupils shrinking in size slightly as he stared you down.
“Let me remind you that I am… a literal skeleton.”
With a snort, you took a sip of your hot chocolate, the heat of the cup warming your cold hands, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze.
“A very much alive skeleton, Sans.”
This little meeting was rather nice, though, there was something strange about sitting in this specific little coffee shop with this particular skeleton.
The way he casually rolled his eyes at you and made some unnecessary joke—another damned bone pun—seemed so weirdly foreign and familiar. Part of you felt—more like knew something was missing and you wanted to know what it is and part of you wondered why you felt like this had happened before.
But it hadn’t, obviously, it hadn’t happened—that was impossible! You’d only known him for… a little less than a month… And there had never been time for the two of you to grow close before this.
In not so many words, this little lunch ‘date’ felt more comfortable than it should.
It was so nostalgic sitting here with him though—it felt like a dream, it felt like a nightmare, it felt like a forbidden wish coming true; a wish you hadn’t even known you’d made.
Above all, none of it really made sense.
He lifted his steaming coffee to his non-existent lips and took a quick drink; his eyes closed softly as he enjoyed the taste. It was… something else… to see a skeleton—no, he’s not a real skeleton, you reminded yourself—be so expressive. He sure did look like one, from the hollow space where his nose should be, to the empty eye sockets, to the way his phalanges—his fingers—moved around as he gestured and talked animatedly.
Honestly, it was equal parts intriguing and unsettling.
A kid—not a kid, he was probably around his late twenties, older than you were—came by the table just as Sans finished his drink.
The guy, some nondescript, awkward being, with a face full of unfortunate acne, sneered at the two of you while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “dirty monster fucker.”
Your face flamed with embarrassment and rage as you gave an icy glare at the idiotic stranger, “At least I can get it, unlike you.”
The guy huffed, his face contorted with anger and disgust before he sauntered off, throwing a quick, “Skele-fucker” over his shoulder, a smug smile on his face, pleased with what he probably considered a golden insult. You just rolled your eyes at Sans, hoping that the monster wasn’t too offended by the stranger’s rudeness.
But the look you saw on his face was something you weren’t expecting.
It… almost looked like… adoration. Pure. Unadulterated. Adoration.
And it was aimed at you.
“Wh-what…?” You rasped, taken aback.
The sound of your voice seemed to be enough to knock him to his senses as he shook his head slightly before turning to glare in the direction the stranger had stalked off in. Faintly—almost imperceptible—you could see the smallest bit of blue burning on his cheeks. It looked like he was blushing, but you were at a loss for what could have possibly elicited such a reaction.
He didn’t say much about the little scene that had been caused, instead choosing to brush over the topic with a short one-liner (“What a bonehead”).
The two of you talked about a variety of topics afterward, each one of minor importance, but still interesting and engaging all the same.
All too soon, it came time to head back to the groomer’s shop. You almost felt a little disappointed, and altogether unprepared to leave San’s charming company—because damn if he wasn’t a charismatic person, what with his groan-worthy puns, sharp wit and ridiculous—no, wait, ribiculous amount of knowledge about anything related to physics and or most sciences in general.
You found that you quite liked talking to him. And when he offered to meet again (“Same place, same time tomorrow, smalls?) you felt a flutter of anticipation and excitement.
It seemed like every day your previously non-existent social life significantly improved.
You guys met the next day and both of you ordered the same thing—he even offered to pay, which you quickly turned down, but not without giving many thank you’s and no thank you’s. And the two of you settled down in the booth you’d taken last time and discussed the moon landing (which you’d researched quite a bit last night just for this occasion). He told you about Waterfall with the beautiful glimmering rocks and shinning, bioluminescent rivers.
As your lunch break came to a close once more, he asked again to meet and you readily agreed.
The third time you let him buy your drink and the two of you talked about Luna and why you had her.
“So, I thought animals couldn’t come into stores?”
You had nodded, already preparing yourself to answer the too-personal questions people asked once they realized you had a service dog, “Yeah, typically that’s how it goes, but Luna isn’t, like, a pet-pet. She’s… different.”
“Oh?” He’d asked, seeming both interested and indifferent. How he could manage to be so nonchalant about everything you’d never know.
“Mhm, she is a working dog… meaning she helps me with tasks… and keeps me functioning…” You'd launched into your explanation and the more you’d talked about your dog the easier it was—especially considering how attentive and polite he’d been.
He only asked a few more questions: ‘how’d you get her?’, ‘did she go through a lot of training?’, ‘can any dog be a service dog?’, etc, before he seemed satisfied.
Never once had he asked, ‘what’s wrong with you?’ or judged you.
The fourth coffee-date (you were officially calling them dates—hell, even Frisk had teased you about them) you were running late. Actually, you weren’t so much running late as you were just stuck. Literally, stuck. In a tree.
A rather tall tree, in your defence.
But still, definitely stuck in a tree.
How had you gotten here? Ah, well, you’d just been trying to play the ‘good Samaritan’ act when it’d backfired on you.
“Miss? My cat is stuck in this tree and I am not quite so young and sprightly as I used to be, so would you mind climbing up there to grab her?” An elderly woman asked, her voice quavering slightly with worry.
You nodded, flashing your brightest smile, “Certainly, ma’am, a little ol’ tree like this will be no problem for someone like me! I’ll be up there in a jiffy!”
“Oh thank you, darling! I would have been at such a loss without your fearless bravery”—
Okay so maybe that was exaggerated, but you hadn’t been unwilling to help—just a little wary of climbing the tree.
"My cat is stuck. Could you please go get her?"
You frowned, giving the tree a once over, "Can't you... like... ask someone else?"
The older lady shook her head, voice quivering with age, "No, dear, everyone else has turned me down... and Ms. Muffet needs her afternoon snack... I can't leave my baby here by herself!"
A sigh left your lips as you once again looked the tree up and down, "I... uh, I think I can do this."
The issue was that once you’d climbed the tree, the cat had leapt gracefully down, giving you what you considered a rather saucy glare. And what was worse, the old lady hadn’t even thanked you, but instead was focused solely on the little she-devil of a cat that was now meticulously cleaning her fur.
And if the thanklessness of the situation wasn’t bad enough, you couldn’t get down from the tree.
The branch you’d crawled out onto was thick, and you were laying across it, your legs wrapped around with ankles locked to prevent yourself from falling. You were, you had to admit sheepishly, too scared to move from your position, plus you no longer had the drive of wanting to save a ‘helpless’ animal to motivate you to move.
You fished your phone out of your back pocket, your arm wrapped around the branch in a vice grip. Cautiously, carefully, somewhat nervously, you sent Sans a quick ‘S.O.S.’ and prayed that he would respond sooner rather than later.
And luck was on your side, for you received a reply not even a minute later, just a short ‘where?’
He showed up in five minutes, with the biggest grin you’d ever seen on his face—and really now, considering his mouth was always stretched wide in a Cheshire cat-esque smile, it was almost impressive.
Except, when he saw you hanging on to the branch with a death grip, he started to laugh.
And this was no laughing matter.
“Well, this is a surprise, whatcha up to, kid?”
You frowned, your tone turning sarcastic, “Oh, you know, just hanging around…”
“I tree what you mean, but I’m not quite sure I beleaf you. You don’t look like you need me to stick around,” his hands were shoved in his pockets and despite his cool tone you could see his shoulder shake with laughter.
This was not an ideal situation.
“Okay, fuck boy, this is not what I had you come here for.”
His eyes flashed with mischief, “Oh? So, what did you want me here for?”
You sighed, “Come on, captain obvious, I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
“Well, you look like you’re in quite the predicament… That someone as small and weak as you managed to climb up in the first place is an achievement in itself… No wonder you managed to get yourself stuck,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders in an ‘oh well’ kind of way.
You could feel the blood rush to your face as your cheeks burned with embarrassment, “I am not stuck. I’m just… taking a break because I got tired climbing up.”
He quirked a brow bone up and smirked. You mimicked the expression.
“So, you’re sure you’re not stuck?”
“No! I am not stuck in this tree! God, I’m not that dumb…”
He turned around, waving as he made to leave, and you felt your gut drop with a sudden wave of panic.
“Sans! Wait!”
He glanced back at you over his shoulder, eyes twinkling with mirth. You weren’t sure your face could feel any hotter. Actually, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt so embarrassed for such a simple thing.
“…I’m not stuck…” He took another step away, the bright pupils of his eyes watching you the entire time, “BUT,” you emphasized, “It’d be… cool if you could… help me down…” your voice got smaller with each word as you tried not to drown in the humiliation you felt.
It wasn’t a big deal. None of this was a big deal—and it wasn’t a shameful thing to ask for help on such a simple task…
Except it was a big deal! Because it was your fault you were in this situation and it was your own stupidity that led you to being unable to escape.
“What was that?” He asked, clearly enjoying your misery.
“Can… you help…” you sighed, the words rushed out in a jumbled mess, “canyouhelpmedown?”
He cocked his head to the side, now facing you, “Hmmm?”
“Can you help me down?”
He hummed, as though in deep though, “I don’t know, what’s the magic word?”
“I’ll fight you.”
He blinked, seemingly shocked, uttering a simple, “Fair enough,” before breaking into loud and contagious laughter—you even managed a weak giggle despite yourself.
Sans moved forward, standing beneath you, his arms outstretched. The fabric of his t-shirt rode up the slightest bit and you could see the tops of his hip bones—huh, you thought wonderingly, he really is skeletal… You shifted slightly on the tree, still maintaining that terrified, white knuckled grip on the limb.
“Do I have to jump…?” You asked, your voice sounding smaller than you intended. It wasn’t a far jump, but it still gave you anxiety.
He only nodded, his characteristic smirk softening into a reassuring smile, “I’ll catch you, no matter what.”
Those words stirred something in you and you… you who had so much trouble trusting others, you who had been lied to, hurt, and slandered in the past, you wanted nothing more than for his arms to catch you and embrace you with their warmth.
This was not normal, but neither were you and nor was he.
How could something so simple end up so profound?
You let yourself fall from the branch, sliding to the side awkwardly, and as promised, he caught you. You felt feather-light wrapped up in his arms. He laughed, and after a pause you joined him.
“That was ridiculous.”
He agreed, snorting.
“Thank you,” you said, avoiding his gaze.
He shrugged, that light blue flush on his cheek bones once more.
“S’no skin off my back.”
You groaned at the pun but smiled all the same. The light banter that ensued between the two of you continued the entire walk to the café and again later on your way back to the groomer’s shop.
You spent the morning at Sans’ house. He cooked for you, which was nice, considering you’d caused him nothing but trouble—or at least, based on context, you assumed you’d caused him nothing but trouble (you couldn’t exactly remember).
All in all, he was just a nice person.
Part of you wanted to squint at him, furrow your brows, frown maybe, and wonder why he was being so fucking kind when he truly owed you nothing—the world was made of the worst kinds of people. No one was just inherently good, they all just wanted something. (Most of them just wanted some god damn fucking peace and quiet in a world of chaos, and, well, you couldn’t exactly blame them).
But… you couldn’t bring yourself to truly be suspicious of him. The shy, little smile he had given you as he placed a plate full of eggs and toast in front of you… it thoroughly disarmed you. He was being so domestic, and doing his best to cure your killer hangover, all while cracking jokes and making inane puns (“These are eggsellent,” “do these jokes crack you up?” and your personal favourite, “I think this is eggsactly what you need.”)
For being such a major dork, there was something so dangerously charming about him. On the other hand, and even more prominent than his cocky, jokester persona, there was a tiredness you could see in his eyes—a tiredness that you connected with.
He’d obviously been through something. Hell, he’d probably been through a lot of somethings, and you didn’t know, and you could never be sure because maybe he was just an always exhausted person; one of those people with issues getting enough sleep or staying asleep.
But it didn’t really seem like that was it. He seemed… like he knew something you didn’t. His eyes, their hollowness, the dimness of the pupils when he thought you weren’t looking, showed a sort of sorrow you weren’t sure what to do with.
And, when you’d screamed? He’d been startled, sure, but he’d glossed over it in a way… that was comforting, but not humiliating. It was like he was… was… agh, you didn’t even know what you didn’t know at this point.
In any case, you weren’t entirely sure what you thought of him other than that he was funny and sometimes nice.
It was much too soon to be trusting someone and thinking so fondly of them, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
You’d have to keep your distance if you wanted to stay safe.
“What’s rattlin’ ‘round in that head o’ yours?”
His voice stirred you from your thoughts and you blinked at him confusedly for a moment as you regained your senses. You shifted on the padded seat, picking up your glass of water to take a sip. He had some scrambled eggs in front of him, drowning in ketchup, but you hadn’t even seen him actually eat any of them. They just kind of… disappeared when you weren’t looking.
“Just thinkin’ ‘bout, uh, multiverse theory…” you answered with the first thing that came to mind—which wasn’t exactly a lie, you were always thinking about things like that, multiverse theory, Schrödinger’s cat, how a black hole worked, etc. Just the puzzles of the world that your brain couldn’t exactly wrap around.
But when you mentioned the theory, you could have sworn, for just a second, his eyes darkened considerably, but then he blinked, and they were back to normal and you were left wondering if maybe the light had played a trick on you.
He tried a new question, “So what was that… back at the bar? Why so early in the day?”
“What? You don’t start drinking at like… noon?”
He laughed and shrugged. That wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes.
“Was it for fun or…?” Sans let his voice trailed off while he studied your face.
Your head tilted to the side as you considered his question, “Uhm, I guess I just wanted something to… lighten the mood, or… what have you…” You laughed, for a reason unbeknownst to you, “And by the lighten the mood, I really just meant, lighten my mood…”
He nodded, a stiff smile on his face, “Did somethin’ happen?”
You shrugged, indicating this was not a topic you were going to encourage discussing. Thankfully, he took the hint.
You took a bite of the eggs, savouring the texture and taste before swallowing.
He was staring at you and you tried not to be bothered by it. You ate another bite. He stared a little bit more. You could feel sweat begin to gather at the back of your neck, you scooped up another bite. He was still staring.
“Is there something on my face or am I just that good looking?” You asked around a mouthful of eggs.
“Er, just wonderin’… what… was that this morning?”
You swallowed, trying not to choke on your food, “Uh, anxiety attack.”
“Anxiety attack?”
“Yeah… it’s…” you took a deep and calming breath, “something I experience from time to time… there can be things that trigger them… but… it also can just be anxiety building up and up… until it, uh, sort of boils over in the worst way possible…”
“Hmm, okay.” He looked like he wanted to ask more but opted not to. You were grateful for that small mercy.
Silence fell between the two of you as you speared some more of your scrambled eggs onto your fork. A sudden realization hit you and you felt a wave of alarm, “OH, fuck, what time is it? I had work today!”
Your silverware clattered to your plate as you stood abruptly, a panicked expression on your face, “Fuck and I just left Luna at home all day. Oh god… I’m the worst.”
Sans got up too, albeit with a sense of calmness that you just couldn’t replicate at the moment, “Slow down, Smalls, I… uh, I called Frisk because you were out cold and I, uh, I told them you’d worked yourself to the bone, so you were feelin’ a bit ill and all.”
Your shoulders slumped with relief, “Oh…”
Why are you being so nice? You wanted to ask, but the words died on your lips as you took in his expression. He looked… so nostalgic, like he was reliving something, and you couldn’t tell if it had to do with you or if it was something back in his head—something you couldn’t see.
You settled for a short, “Thank you.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, let’s hurry. I feel like such a bad dog parent. Poor baby…”
The two of you walked in companionable silence the couple of blocks to your apartment building. You paused outside the building, “Why didn’t you take me home yesterday?”
“Well,” he looked sheepish, “I tried to ask where you lived, but you didn’t really answer.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been here before!”
“I’ve been here exactly once,” he argued, “Besides, I didn’t know the way from Grillby’s. I wasn’t trying to be a numbskull.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes at his dumb joke.
“Well, bonehead, thank you for takin’ care of me.”
You were about to walk into the apartment when his boney hand darted and gripped your elbow. You blinked, slightly startled, and not liking the way your skin crawled at being touched. He seemed to notice your tension and let go immediately.
“Sorry—I was just… I was wonderin’ if you wanted to stop by tonight, Paps is makin’ spaghetti and wants you and some friends to come by to enjoy it…” He looked so proud talking about his brother.
You weren’t exactly a social person, and you certainly didn’t like to go out places—especially when you’d already been outside of your comfort zone for so long already, but someone with such a sincerely deep and true affection for their brother… had a kind of integrity you just couldn’t say no to.
“Sure,” you said softly.
“Cool. See you then, smalls.”
You weren’t sure what state you had expected your apartment to be in when you got there, but a dog on its own for over a day was never a good thing. When you opened the door, though, you were pleasantly surprised.
Luna turned out to be fine, if not a little frantic—and then incredibly excited once she noticed you had come home. You swept through the house to make sure she didn’t have an accident, then clipped on her vest and leash to take her for a long, and well deserved, walk. It was nice to just walk, enjoying the company of your sweet companion, and not have to worry about social graces, or whether or not you were being odd or cold or… or insensitive or any of the things people had accused you of in the past.
These were your times in which you could just be, and you savoured every minute of it.
The walk was nice, it helped to clear your head from the events of the last two days. Luna was also glad to be outside and reunited with you. Even though it had been far less than twenty-four hours since you had last seen her, she had probably felt like it’d been ages.
To your surprise and dismay, a very familiar fish-like monster and a not-so-familiar lizard-like monster stood outside the door to your apartment.
“Hey!” You called.
They turned together to stare, but it was Undyne who spoke, “Hey, little punk!”
Luna barked once, short and low and you hushed her quickly—she’d never really forgiven Undyne for threatening you so much.
“Hey Luna,” Undyne greeted easily, not intimidated in the least by the short and stocky dog, “Have ya been keepin’ the pipsqueak safe?”
You scoffed, “I can keep myself safe!”
The smaller monster, a yellow creature that looked like some sort of mix between a lizard and a dinosaur, chuckled and mumbled something quietly to Undyne which had the boisterous fish-woman blushing with embarrassment.
“Hmpf,” Undyne snorted, “Anyway, you haven’t met yet, right?” She asked, gesturing between you and the little dinosaur-like monster. Undyne continued without waiting for a response, “This little lady is Alphys, she used to be the royal scientist…”
The little monster—Alphys—waved at you meekly, “N-not anymore, though.”
Her nervousness made you nervous. You waved shyly back.
Undyne had to work hard not to yell at the two of you for being so soft.
Apparently the two had come because they’d heard from Frisk you were under the weather. You let them into your small, cosy apartment and set about making tea for the cute couple.
“So, how long have you guys been together?” You asked casually, finding their flustered interactions both adorable and ridiculous. If you remembered correctly, this Alphys was the monster that Undyne was head over heels for.
Undyne sputtered, her blue scales turning a flattering purple-red hue, “That’s, uh, we’re… heh, punk, you’re a little jokester, aren’tcha?” Her smile was too wide, too strained, and the panic in her one visible eye hinted that perhaps you’d teased a little too much.
You had to fix this, “Oh, uh, er, well, I, yeah, I was just kidding, sorry! Y-you guys just seem like such good friends… Yeah… friends…”
That was smooth, you sighed.
It seemed to work well enough though because the tension in the room lessened considerably. Alphys hadn’t actually seemed phased, maybe she hadn’t heard you—or maybe she was still frozen with mortification. You hoped it was the former.
Undyne slammed her hands onto the counter, making you drop the mug you’d been holding. Thankfully, it didn’t break. You shot her a glare, and she had the decency to look a little sheepish.
“S-sorry, punk, just had an epitome.”
“Epitome?” You asked, incredulous.
“Is that not the right word?” She looked over to Alphys for help.
“D-d-did you mean to s-say epiphany?” The small dinosaur’s voice was the slightest bit scratchy, and a little nasally. It was so quiet that you had to lean in to hear her speak.
“Yeah!” Undyne exclaimed, not at all bothered by her word-choice mishap, “I had an epiphany!”
Suddenly she turned on you, her eyes narrowed and grin wide with devious glee, “A little birdy told me that you and Sans had a little date at Grillby’s!” She snickered, “And that you went home with him.”
“So?” You asked, indifferently.
“So, Sans doesn’t just take anyone home. Plus,” she said, enunciating each word with enthusiasm, “He invited you to dinner tonight—A dinner that was supposed to be just for close friends… which means that… you and Sans…”
She jabbed her finger into your shoulder, pointing at you accusingly, “Is there something your best pal, Undyne needs to know about you and Sansy?”
You laughed despite yourself, “Oh god, no, nothing like that…”
She frowned; disbelief clear in her features. You insisted, “No, Undyne, I’m serious—” you snorted, “Literally, I got really drunk yesterday and Sans found me at the bar and took me back to his house—”
Undyne was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and you waved off her ridiculous behaviour.
“Nothing happened. Like, nothing actually happened. I think I threw up and he took care of me,” you could feel your face light up with your own embarrassment. In a smaller voice you mumbled, “Uh, is it okay that I go to the dinner? If… If I’m not like close friends with anyone?”
Alphys spoke up, effectively silencing whatever Undyne had been about to say, “No!”
“No?” You felt your stomach drop with disappointment.
“N-no! I mean, yes! I… I mean that…” She flailed her claws, looking more and more distressed with each word, “I mean that no, no one would mind, and yes, we want you there. Frisk… F-Frisk would want you there, too.”
Her stuttering assurances didn’t actually assuage any of your newfound doubts, but as you spent the rest of the evening with the duo, you found yourself forgetting your insecurities and just enjoying their company.
As it turned out, you and Alphys had some things in common—mainly, an appreciation for anime. And while you were no ‘anime connoisseur,’ you also weren’t a newbie when it came to the topic. The two of you, with Undyne’s occasional input, swapped a few show suggestions with the promise of having a nerd-night marathon.
Soon enough it was time to head to Sans’ and Papyrus’ house.
The walk wasn’t long enough, you didn’t exactly feel prepared to be around people again, and you hadn’t gotten any time to recuperate. Undyne and Alphys chatted awkwardly, both slightly flustered by the other’s presence. It was so obvious they liked each other; you couldn’t understand why they weren’t already dating. If there were ever such things as soulmates, Alphys and Undyne would be the perfect example.
They, as a pair, were asymmetrical. Alphys, quiet, meek, smart, and Undyne, rash, bold, brave. They were so very different, but they both had in common their burning passion. A passion, a determination, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt before.
Taking in the sight of these two awkward lovebirds filled you with… envy. You wanted a friendship like that… hell, maybe you just wanted a relationship even the slightest bit close to their bond.
You laughed your discomfort off, pushing back your feelings of envy as you smiled and talked and joked with the two monsters.
Papyrus was ecstatic to see you, though he did not move to pick you up or touch you—you appreciated his respect of your boundaries. It even sounded like he was trying to lower his volume when talking to you.
You felt your heart squeeze with a sudden rush of affection for the impossibly tall and kind skeleton.
Dinner went well, though you did not expect how many people would be there. Frisk and the ever-pleasant Toriel greeted you when you walked into the house, and a large, furred beast—similar in appearance, though much broader, to Toriel—waved, a gregarious smile on his face. He introduced himself as Asgore—former king of all monsters, you tried not to be intimidated by that title. You also tried not to be intimidated by his towering form, he had to duck down just to fit in the house properly. Now that you noticed it, Toriel also had to stoop slightly just to fit comfortably.
You felt so small. You could feel the beginnings of panic creeping up your back to latch itself around your throat, making breathing hard. You were introduced to another monster (a cat-like one, Catty?) and another (and alligator this time? Bratty?). Another (Aaron?). Another (Shyren?). Another. And another. The names were beginning to blur and the faces, though new and distinct each time, were not memorable.
You felt out of place.
You just wanted a familiar face, but instead you kept being side-tracked, interrupted, blocked, and jostled around by all the people mingling in the house.
Your hands were shaking, and you found yourself in a corner of what looked to be the living room. It had transformed considerably from when you’d been there earlier. Probably Papyrus—you couldn’t imagine Sans working to prepare the house for company—had placed a table with various snacks in the centre of the room, which a few guests had permanently parked themselves beside.
Maybe later, once you’d orientated yourself just the slightest bit more, you’d head over there and grab some food before it was all gone.
But for now? You’d… just… take it slow. It would be bad enough to panic in a public setting. It was somehow worse to be panicking at your new friends’ house. They’d—or Sans, really—had invited you, Undyne and Alphys had gone out of their way to make sure you came, and everyone you’d met had been nice. You had no reason to be panicking.
Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the corner; you just wanted to hide and observe. You weren’t sure you really wanted to be here anymore.
Was it selfish to wish that Frisk or Undyne had stayed with you? That Papyrus would have made sure you were alright? Or that Alphys—who was also a shy character—would have understood your nervousness and kept you company? Or… Or that Sans… the monster that had invited you in the first place, would have sought you out? Would have cracked a few jokes, gotten you to laugh, and made sure you felt comfortable among these new people…?
You felt selfish for wanting them to choose you above these people they’d known for much longer, because, honestly, you’d only known them for a few weeks—a month, maybe? And, really, you’d only known Frisk for that long.
“hi…”
You blinked, startled, “H-hello.”
“s-sorry for bothering you… you just looked… nice… oh… I hope I’m not bothering you…” the voice was so meek and small. It made you feel slightly better to know you weren’t the only one out of your element.
You looked up, studying the… monster in front of you. They looked like one of those cartoon ghosts you’d drawn as a child. You gave them a hesitant smile and the ghost-like creature blushed shyly.
“You’re not bothering me… I was, uh, actually, it’s really nice to meet you. What’s… what’s your name?”
“…Napstablook…”
You introduced yourself, feeling more at ease with the friendly little monster beside you. Napstablook, though a bit awkward and a bit sad, was nice.
You stuck with them for most of the party. Papyrus was making rounds through the guests, and seemed beyond ecstatic you’d found a friend, and Frisk, who seemed to be the life of the party, eventually found their way over to you again, introducing you as ‘The Boss’ to their little armless friend—Monster Kid.
Everything considered, despite your initial misgivings, you were glad you decided to come.
It wasn’t until later, when you were finally home and curled up in bed with your lovely companion, Luna, you realized: you hadn’t seen Sans at all. You tried not to feel offended, but you were a bit disappointed, he’d invited you after all…
You mentally shook off the feeling and let yourself drift to sleep.
The buzzing of your phone woke you though. You groaned, shifting around under the heavy covers to grab your phone off of the nightstand.
The screen was glaringly bright, and you squinted at it for a few moments as your eyes adjusted. One new message. Your eyes flicked up to the time, it was too god damn late for this shit, or maybe too fucking early.
Sansational [3:00 am]
sorry i missed you at the party. lunch?
You shook your head, smiling slightly. Lunch would be great. Your eyes closed once more, and you fell asleep dreaming off bright places with smiling faces. Everything was okay for today.
You made it out of Grillby’s just fine, but it wasn’t long until you were stumbling as you walked. You definitely had drank too much too quickly.
He had ended up carrying you at some point. He didn’t like to admit how worried he was about you—he’d never really had to deal with a drunk human before, wasn’t it dangerous to drink too much? And you were so small and light and fragile in his hands… were you in danger? Should he be worried?
You were piggy-backed on him, his jacket the perfect cushion—it was easier than trying to get you to walk beside him in the state you were in.
“Hey kiddo, where do ya live? I needa take ya back to your house…”
You giggled, “You took me there just the other day though!”
He sighed, feeling altogether too tired and too worried to deal with this, and deal with you, “You led me there. I don’t know where it is from here.”
You didn’t respond, just tightened your grip around his solid shoulders.
“Fine, you’re staying the night with us… I, uh, I know a shortcut.”
Sans took a sharp left, turning into an alleyway and you felt an odd and fierce sensation grip your body—simultaneously it felt like being stretched out and out and out and pushed in and in and in—before suddenly you were in front of his home.
You were in front of his home and your mind was reeling… but even worse, your stomach was churning uncomfortably. Even in your hazy state you recognized the feeling for what it was.
“Put me do—” you hiccoughed, letting go off Sans and sliding away from him to kneel on the ground. He approached you, gently placing a hand on your back and was about to pick you back up when you vomited.
He sprung back as though stung, “Oh, fuck, uh, Smalls, you okay?”
Your gut was being emptied and he thought the correct question to ask was ‘you okay’? What kind of fucking monster moron thinks that’s the logical next step? Before you could manage what would have been a biting retort, another wave of nausea hit you and you pitched forward, feeling wretched and gross as you threw up.
There was nothing funny about it, but in your embarrassment and discomfort, you felt like laughing. You felt like such a shit show… like such a mess. You were mortified.
“Smalls… uh…” he pulled your hair up and away from your face, as you doubled over once more, “Shit, uh, I didn’t… I should definitely have warned you before taking that short cut. I just didn’t even think about the fact that you were already intoxicated, and the effect of the shortcut would be even more than normal… I mean, even Frisk would get nauseous when I took them… but they never threw up… but uh, I mean, uh, they were never drunk so I guess that makes sense.”
You had no idea what he was talking about, with shortcuts and its effects. You reached behind you to place a quieting hand on his face, he stilled immediately.
“Sorry, are you alright?” His voice was shaking with nerves, and you were in no state to comfort someone—you were in even less of a position to properly articulate the feelings circulating around your head at the moment—so instead, you chose the easy route.
You chose to brush of his concerns with a joke, “I’m just fine and dandy,” you mumble weakly, plucking a lone dandelion from the crack of the sidewalk. He just stared blankly at you.
“Ge’it? It’s ‘cause it’s… a dandelion… a dandy-lion…” you snorted.
He laughed, too, suddenly looking much more comfortable with the situation now that you’d stopped puking everywhere. “I’d be lion if I told you… that was the worst pun I’d ever heard…”
“You make me sick,” you giggled, pushing yourself up and standing. You wobbled a little on your feet but managed to stay up right.
He grimaced more than laughed, “Don’t remind me, smalls.”
“I am not small!” You protested, but he shook it off with a smirk. You frowned, “Also… I-I’m s-sorry…” you gestured toward the mess you’d made.
“It’s fine, it’s in the grass at least, really, I shoulda figured a little thing like you couldn’t hold your liquor.”
You were ready to retort but he hushed you as he led you into the house. Your small voice echoing behind you with a quiet, “I’m hungry, Sans.”
He only responded with a short and resounding “No.”
You whined, he laughed. You fell asleep on their lumpy couch shortly after…
And woke up the next morning, dazed and confused.
You took in your surroundings, unsure of where exactly you were.
The couch wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. If anything, it was probably one of the softest and biggest couches you’d ever had the pleasure to sleep on. The only problems you were having was your raging headache and the intense feeling of dread in your stomach.
You didn’t like drinking—or well, you didn’t like this part of drinking.
But in the moment, there was always something so inviting and intoxicating about being intoxicated. Then, after the fact, you were left wondering if you’d made a fool of yourself, if you’d gotten sick, if you’d done something you would regret.
You felt anxious.
You felt more than anxious—you felt panicked.
The more rational side of you muttered quiet little reassurances, but the bigger, more irrational, and anxious side of you screamed that you’d fucked up. That you’d made a mistake. That you’d ruined your own life again. That you were an alcoholic with no control over anything.
And the more your anxiety spoke to you, the more you believed it. The more you told yourself these things, the more you believed them—despite there being no proof, no evidence, nothing to tell you these harmful thoughts were true.
Your heart was racing, and you sat up in your makeshift bed.
Yesterday was fuzzy, you had flashes and snatches of memory. You remembered Doggo, you remembered Grillby teasing you, you remembered meeting Sans at one point. You didn’t remember leaving the bar. You didn’t remember if you went home or not. You didn’t remember how you got here. Wherever here was…
You felt like you’d made some mistake but couldn’t even remember enough to identify what the mistake was.
You hated that you always felt so anxious after drinking.
You hated that despite the anxiety-hangover you still drank too much sometimes.
You hated that you were in this house and couldn’t remember how you got here.
The blanket suddenly wasn’t enough, and you felt exposed. You felt like you were being watched. You felt—
“You’re finally up? Gee, kid, and Paps calls me a lazy bones.” The voice startled you from your thoughts and you gave the only reasonable and logical reaction—because you were nothing if not a reasonable and logical person.
You screamed.
Sans didn’t scream, though he did look quite alarmed.
You blinked and slapped a hand over your mouth.
“I’m sorry, I don’t even know where I am, but I mean like, this is probably your house. I mean, that’s the obvious answer, and if it is, I’m, like, sorry. Uh, I shouldn’t have screamed, you just came out of nowhere, I just don’t really know. I got startled. I’m sorry, I’ll try not to scream in people’s houses in the future because that’s probably rude or something…” You tried to say a hundred things at once, and it all came out in a jumbled mess. You could tell by the smirk on his face that none of what you’d just mumbled out made sense.
In an attempt to save grace, you gestured at the couch, “Nice, er, couch.”
He snorted.
You tried again, “Is this your house?”
He nodded, the wide grin on his face looking more and more smug by the minute.
“It’s, uh, nice, too.”
The lights of his eyes danced with amusement.
“So, uhm, where’s Papyrus?”
He shrugged, “At work,” he offered.
You nodded, coughing awkwardly, “Well, hoo, uhm, okay. That’s, uh, cool. Where does he work?”
At this Sans actually laughed, and you hide your face with yours hands, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. This had been, by far, your most cringe worthy encounter with Sans.
“He works at a nearby restaurant,” he replied simply, not commenting on your awkwardness.
“That’s cool…”
“Yup.”
You sighed, “So, I… I’m sorry.”
“For what,” he asked.
You blinked with confusion. Wasn’t it obvious?
“I’m, uh, sorry for, like, getting scared. And, uh, crashing on your couch, and being here and in your way and stuff like that—uh, I mean, like, sorry for just like being.” You cut yourself off before you began to ramble again.
“It’s fine, Smalls…” He neglected to mention the fact that you threw up, or that he spent half the day and night worrying himself sick over you. No, he’d never bring himself to say any of that—especially not that he was worried… especially not that he was afraid for you.
He was going to say more, ask if you wanted to go out to eat or something, but the tiredness in your eyes, the slight furrow in your brows, and the way you sat—curled in on yourself as though you could make yourself small enough to disappear—made him hesitate.
You didn’t really seem like you would want to go anywhere.
“Well, uh, I can get out of your hair now, if… you… want…” you offered, noticing his slight pause and hoping to diminish his discomfort.
“I don’t even have hair, but nah, you’re not rattlin’ my bones…” his smiled turned from a smirk into something more genuine, something a little bit more kind, and you nervously smiled back, “I imagine you don’t feel so hot right now, so how ‘bout we take a minute to cool off, and uh, I’ll make you something small to eat, how’s that?”
You felt a sudden flush of affection for his awkwardness.
“Something small for the something small?” You asked cheekily.
“Thought ya didn’t like bein’ called small,” he chuckled.
“Yeah, well, it seems like it’s a name that’s gonna stick, so why not just accept it.”
It was three in the morning when your phone went off.
You woke with a start, your heart hammering wildly. Luna groggily whined as you threw off the covers. The room felt too hot and dark and small. Trapped. You felt trapped. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you were covered in a cold sweat.
You felt oddly disorientated, and couldn’t help but wonder, what had woken you up? You squinted into the darkness for a moment, taking a second to slow your breathing and calm yourself, before you slid off the bed to flip on the light switch.
“Luna?” She perked her ears toward you, but otherwise didn’t move, “Luna-ah-ah,” you sang. She snorted, still ignoring your calls.
“Lazy, furry, asshole,” you muttered while you shuffled back toward your bed and crawled in. Luna nuzzled into you the moment you settled yourself down. You let you hand glide lazily to her head and traced the patterns of her fur with your pointer finger, letting the texture of her soft head soothe your worries.
It was always hard to fall back asleep when you’d woken up so suddenly… But Luna’s heavy snores and the soft patter of rain on the window calmed you immensely.
Your phone buzzed again and this time you recognized the sound for what it was. There were two messages and a missed call. The missed call was from your stepmother, but it was from a day ago. You decided it was better to be left alone for now… (and maybe for the rest of your life).
The texts were from an unknown number… the messages were definitely, er, something.
Unknown Sender [3:05 am]
[It was a picture of a can of ravioli]
Unknown Sender [3:12 am]
penne for your thoughts?
You snorted as you glanced through the texts once more before saving his number under ‘Sansational’.
(XXX) XXX-XXXX [3:15 am]
That’s not even fucking penne pasta, what the fuck, I did not come here for sub-par puns. Also??? It’s like, three am, why are you not asleep??
Luna’s snoring filled the room, and the rain continued its light tap, tap, tapping at the window. You could feel your eyes slowly drooping, and the last thing you heard before you fell totally asleep was the buzz, buzz of your phone—two new messages. Two new messages that would just have to wait until the morning. You couldn't even muster the energy to get back up and flick off the lights before your eyes slid shut.
You drifted off to sleep seconds later.
All too soon your alarm was squealing in your ear, and you were not very up and not very at ‘em. You slid out of your covers, allowing yourself to flop onto the floor like a fish out of water. Your phone finally silenced itself and you let yourself rest for a moment, trying to gather the will to get up.
As you laid on the carpeted floor, staring blankly at the ceiling you let yourself just think—you let yourself get lost in your musings. Lately your dreams had been getting worse. Or, rather, the dreams you could actually remember were getting worse.
It just… it was more of your nightmares… night terrors. Your dreams were about all of the things you’d hoped to put behind you. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? One day or another you were going to have to face the… face the terror of your history… of the people you used to know, of everything that had happened to you growing up.
You would have to find your own way to come to terms with all of it. You had to.
You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you brought yourself back to the present, it was Sunday. No work. No work on Sundays. Good. Seemed like a good day to stop by Grillby’s.
Your phone started to sing once more—whatever silly ringtone you’d chosen to use for that week—and you promptly sat up to check who was calling.
Another call from your stepmother. You clicked ignore. The two unread texts caught your eye, and you unlocked your phone to read the two responses Sans had given you.
Sansational [3:21 am]
are you suggesting the pasta is an impasta? that’s impastable!
Sansational [3:22 am]
okay, i’m alfredo that one wasn’t as good…
“What an oaf,” you giggled, smiling dumbly at the screen.
It didn’t take long for you to type a short response back—mostly just berating him for his poor choice in jokes (and lack of knowledge of pasta, because as it turned out, he didn’t know anything other than ravioli, penne, and spaghetti—you’d have to rectify that, but today was not the day for a cooking lesson).
You started to get ready for the day, washing your face—it was less of a wash and more just splashing cold water on your face to fight your grogginess—and getting dressed in comfortable yet reasonably presentable clothing.
After you took Luna on a walk, you were ready to go to Grillby’s.
“Luna, I’m gon’ leave you here… I trust you to be good while I go visit Grillby… er, and uh, just, be a good girl.” She blinked sleepily at you, wagging her tail as she watched you pull on an oversized coat. You slipped on a pair of shoes and moved toward the door, feeling a twinge of guilt as she tried to come with you.
While blocking her from the exit, you slipped outside and shut the door behind you. As you walked down the hall and toward the stairs, you could hear her whines. She didn’t like being left behind, especially not when she could see you were already in a weird mood. Not even an hour of being conscious and you were already making poor decisions. Splendid. Just splendid.
It turned out going to Grillby’s at, you checked the time, noon, was actually a pretty good idea. There was a nice and friendly atmosphere, but it wasn’t nearly as busy and confining as it was later in the day. A few of the costumers greeted you with hearty hello’s as you walked toward the bar and took a seat.
No one gave you weird looks and again you felt relieved at how accepting monsters were and always had been.
“Not bringing lil’ Luna in?” Doggo whined, leaning against the counter beside you. You shifted in your seat and shrugged.
“Nah, not today, she’s back home… sleepin’, probably.” You kept swaying back and forth slightly, doing your best to help Doggo see—once you’d found out his impairment, you’d tried your hardest to accommodate him. He seemed to appreciate it—or at least, he always sought you out for a chat whenever you visited the bar.
He’d even stopped by work once, with Lesser Dog in tow. That job had been quite the handful, Lesser Dog was so easily excited and loved all and any forms of affection. It’d taken you so much longer than your normal grooming job because you’d had to calm the silly little (not actually so little) guard dog down so many times.
But it’d been fun and nice to chat with the both of them—even though Lesser Dog was less than chatty, they could convey a certain amount of information with just glances, whining, and short barks. Plus, Lesser Dog got along well with Luna, like two peas in a pod.
“So, I heard ya met our mother,” Doggo stated, though the way his brow was raised, and the tone of his voice made it seem more like a question.
You nodded, a smile on your face as you fiddled with the zipper on your coat, and when he spoke again you glanced up in time to see him buy two drinks, one for you and one for him.
“Yeah, and ah, you didn’t have to do that! I can pay you back…” You trailed off when he chuckled.
“Just accept it," he barked, pushing the drink closer to you.
"Anyway, I’m headin’ back to play poker. Thanks, and all, I’m glad ya were so nice to my mam, and… everyone’s parents…” He shook his head, his black, plush ears flopping back and forth slightly with the motion, “yeah, well, that’s all. See ya around, pup!”
You smiled and waved as he pushed away from the counter, drink in hand, and moved back toward the other dogs. They all looked to be deeply immersed in a card game of some sort—though it didn’t look like any poker you’d ever played before. Maybe monsters had a different version?
Not that it mattered. What mattered was the drink sitting in front of you, waiting to be tossed back.
“Careful now,” Grillby rasped out as you threw back the glass—it was definitely unexpectedly strong, and you found yourself sputtering.
“Hoo, what was that?”
“Just a mixture of a monster drink and a human one… It isn’t as strong as what I usually make…” He sounded indifferent, but the slight smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. For being an elemental being, he sure was expressive.
“Well, if that wasn’t that strong… m-make me the strongest you have! I’ll prove myself.” Your face was flushed, more from embarrassment at choking on the drink than anything else. He only chuckled in response.
“If you wish, but then you have to drink some water… you are so small, it might affect you too quickly…”
You scoffed in response, “Why does everyone think I’m so small!? Just because ya’ll are so… so… BIG—” He laughed, and you continued in a smaller voice, “I’m like almost average height.”
“Here you go,” he set down a flickering, bright purple drink.
The colours changed and fluttered in much the way that candlelight did, though the colour was all wrong to be considered fire. The colour was mesmerizing as you watched it in all its shimmering splendour. It seemed to change constantly, one second it looked to be more of a lavender shade and the next going to a deep violet. It was almost too beautiful to drink.
But you didn't come here to admire the pretty concoctions Grillby made, you came here to get comfortably tipsy—and maybe even more than that.
Cautiously you took a sip, and you tried not to grimace as you swallowed—the liquid burning uncomfortably as it slid down your throat. You weren’t exactly a fan of drinking; you just liked the freeness that you felt when you did.
That light, fuzzy feeling, where nothing really mattered aside from the present. You didn’t have much control, but you also didn’t have any worries, and it was a time where you could say what you felt without much regret—well, not much regret until the next morning when you (hopefully) remembered all of your ridiculous stunts.
As it was, you didn’t actually drink all that much nor that often, because something about the morning after made you feel sick to your stomach. It wasn’t like being hungover, where your head would pound and your throat would feel parched, but rather, it was a sense of impending doom. You would always feel so anxious the next morning, and it was awful. It was almost never worth the high to then feel so low.
But at this moment, you weren’t too worried about the inevitable morning-after anxiety. You just wanted that light, warm, fuzzy, and carefree feeling that came with being tipsy—or the wildness that partnered with being fully drunk.
Grillby snickered at your wrinkled nose as you took another large sip of the drink, but thankfully didn’t stay to tease you about it—he had other costumers to serve.
You’d nursed the drink pretty slowly, but the second one you’d ordered you’d knocked back fairly quickly, which had caused Grillby to set a large glass of water in front of you.
You complained, muttering that you were just fine, and he’d only laughed, patting your arm lightly as you clumsily tried to swat at him. The two of you bickered for a couple moments more before he relented and gave you yet another alcoholic drink. Each one had been slightly different from the last—this one was a bright iridescent green.
And when you finished that? The next was an almost translucent colour, just slightly tinted blue.
You were definitely feeling it now.
Suddenly thankful for the water, you switched to sipping on that, hoping to catch yourself before you drank too much. Though it felt like a losing battle as you noticed the world was blurring at the edges. You felt as light as a feather and as though your head was filled with bubbles—or maybe cotton, cotton was nice too. You felt kind of silly. You liked it.
“Hey Smalls, it’s a small world, I hadn’t expected to see you ‘round here.” The voice was so richly deep and warm, and just like the first time you’d heard it, you felt that unexpected thrill race through your body, your heart skipping a beat.
“Sansss,” you hissed out the ‘s’, your face flushed, “I didn’t know you came here! It’s nice to see you buddy…”
You paused—feeling comfortable, feeling warm, feeling numb. Yeah, you didn’t like drinking, but you loved the outcome. Was that a problem? Maybe. Was it a problem right this moment? Maybe not.
“You gotta stop callin’ me small though—I,” you frowned, “don’t think I’m really that small… it’s just all you monsters are so big—”
Another pause as you thought to yourself, “yeah, you guys are all just… big boned.”
With one hand you patted his sternum and laughed to yourself.
Sans looked conflicted, equal parts annoyed and amused, but he settled for amused and chuckled, “I didn’t take you for the drinkin’ type…”
“I’m not, usually,” you admitted.
He leaned closer, studying your face, “Kid, you okay?”
You shrugged, laying your head on the counter, feeling much like a little kid about to get scolded.
“I’m fine,” you sighed.
He tilted his head to look you in the eye as he sat beside you.
“Kid, honestly, isn’t it a little too early to… uh… be doing this?” He sounded almost concerned.
But his concern wasn’t needed, honestly, you felt great. You felt great, you told yourself. There was no need to be worried or sad or concerned… you just needed to relax and smile.
So, you did just that, “I’m fine! It’s, uh, never too early for fun.”
He frowned.
You continued, “I’m all good, I’m soooo good, no need to worries, hah, I’m actually, like, really great…” you paused, “Are you good?”
“Yeah, smalls, I’m good.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.
You watched it with amazement before you placed your hand on top of his. He froze. You didn’t notice.
“Uh…”
You smoothed out the wrinkles in his forehead with your thumb, gently pushing at what looked to be hard bone, but turned out to be quite pliable. It filled you with glee. Even though he looked skeletal, he wasn’t cold, nor hard, like you expected. It was like dense muscle, or maybe… more similar to cartilage? You couldn’t decide.
Sans stayed eerily quiet, the white pupils of his eyes had shrunk to just pinpricks of light, and there was a light beading of sweat on the sides of his skull. His cheek bones were coloured with a light blue flush. You couldn’t feel the thrumming of his soul in his bones, but he definitely could. He could feel how with each little movement and touch, his soul sang a little louder.
He was a patient skeleton, but when you started to reach toward his face with a second hand, he wasn’t as gracious.
“Uh, k-kid, personal space, right?”
You giggled, not for any reason in particular, mostly just for the act of giggling in itself, “Oops, sorry mister bone man.” You patted his head once more then retracted your hand, placing it onto the counter next to your own head.
“I… feel… er, what time is it? Is it too early to feel?” You snorted before adding, "It's always too early to feel."
He nodded in agreement.
"Oh, but no, that's—that's not what I meant. I, just, is it too early to drink?" Your mouth was slightly open and your eyes wide with concern—this was a problem! Was it too early to start feeling funny? Luna was going to be so upset when you got home… right? Or would she even understand?
Dogs were intuitive, but you weren’t sure how far that ability went.
The thought left as soon as it had come, and you were left with the urgency of missing your dog. You missed her a lot, actually. Too much. And that just wouldn’t do.
“Sansy,” you sang, “Sans…”
He lifted one brow, looking thoroughly amused by you.
“I gotta see my dog now. I just gotta.”
Sans snorted, “Right now?”
You nodded, “Yes sir, right now.”
“Okay…” He started slowly, “Let me take you back to your home, then…”
“Let me finish this first,” you said, grabbing the cool glass.
“Kid, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I gotta.”
“You gotta?” He asked, his brow bone furrowed.
“I gotta,” you confirmed, taking a big gulp of whatever was left in the glass.
He laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh. You liked it a lot.
“You should always laugh,” you said. He seemed uncomfortable, maybe even embarrassed, but you weren’t to be dissuaded, “I’m serious, Sans. I’m super serious. I like your laugh.”
He rolled his eyes, and rubbed nervously at the back of his head, “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“Don’t you mean… ribiculous?”
“Okay, Smalls, you’re going back home.” He got up and reached a hand down to you, offering his support.
You took one look at the hand and slapped at it in your attempt at a high five.
He looked positively affronted, but you just kept laughing.
You stood in the backroom, washing out a water bowl that one of the dogs had managed to tip the entire contents of their food bowl into. It had turned the dry kibble into a gross gravy-like mush. Plus, it didn’t exactly smell great either, so it needed to be dealt with now. Right now, because you were not ready to deal with smelling that rancid stink for another minute more.
“You’re like a Chihuahua,” Frisk said suddenly, causing your hands to still as your brow furrowed with confusion.
You blinked at them, your face growing warm. Your eyes were narrowed and indignant. You weren’t sure you liked being compared to a small, yappy dog.
“What?” you exclaimed, “I am not!”
“You’re just so small and angry. Like a Chihuahua! You even shake like one…” They were giggling, their face hidden behind their hands and you were trying your best not to look too offended.
“I’m not even that small! You’re the same size as me, punk!”
Frisk giggled again, “Yeah, but I’m, like, sixteen! And hoowww old are you?” They sang, wiggling their eyebrows at you with a smirk on their face.
“Okay, okay, like-sixteen, go put this bowl back in the kennel, please.” You were trying and failing to sound stern, and they made a face which had you laughing a second later. As they left, they turned to sign a quick apology for teasing you, but you shook your head, a small smile still stuck on your face.
The door rang and you turned, expecting… not… that.
You blanched at the sight but tried not to let your discomfort show as you mumbled out a weak “Hello! How can I help you?”
The mass in front of you shivered and wiggled—the skin on its face (well, you assumed that was its face) quivered slightly and a gaping hole appeared in the middle. The creature seemed to be panting heavily and their shaking increased as you stepped out from behind the counter.
It had… so many legs. The head was distinctly dog-like with large, pointed ears and something akin to a snout. There appeared to be a tail on the back of it, and between each leg looked to be the outline of a dog—but you weren’t sure. It was too hard to tell with how constantly the form seemed to shift and move and change.
You approached it slowly, trying to hide your queasiness by being friendly. You cooed at it, gesturing it to come closer.
It seemed to like that and bounded up to you within seconds, its odd, tail-like protrusion wagging sporadically, flicking specks of whatever substance made this creature up all over your store.
You laid your palm out flat in front of its face and…
The thing practically swallowed your hand whole. You were about to scream in terror when suddenly your hand reappeared from the mass with a wet pop… just covered in a thick layer of some sort of grey ooze. It was becoming harder and harder not to throw up.
As you tried to hold back your gags at the unpleasant presence of the creature, you noticed a familiar figure standing behind the shifting mass of goop that somewhat resembled a dog.
“Sans?” You squeaked, almost in disbelief.
“In the flesh… or should I say sans the flesh.” He winked cheekily and you furrowed your brows, “That’s your cue to uh, laugh, or, yanno, emote at all?” Then, seemingly more to himself he whispered, “Kid sure knows how to pick ‘em.”
You frowned, “I’m still here, and can definitely hear you.”
He shrugged, definitely not apologetic in the least, “Sorry, kiddo, just findin’ it hard to tickle your funny bone.”
Your mouth twitched and you fought the urge to laugh—He’d been rude to you! There was no way you were going to start giggling just because of a few dumb jokes. Instead, you chose to question the… creature… he’d brought with them.
“So, uh, do they have a name?”
At that moment though, Frisk popped their head out from the backroom and squealed with excitement.
“ENDOGENY!”
The quivering mass responded to Frisk’s voice by shaking even more violently than they were before, you swear you could see pieces of slime rolling off of them and splattering onto the floor. Each time it did though, it collected itself back into the creature’s—Endogeny’s form.
Sans, saved from answering your question, watched as you interacted with Frisk. It was interesting—you were interesting. But at least Frisk seemed to like you. He felt an ounce of regret; he’d reacted badly upon seeing you and he knew he hadn’t made the best impression on you, but it was too late to fix that. Fate would sort itself out anyway. That was what it always did.
It turned out that cleaning the amalgamation, Endogeny, wasn’t as hard as it seemed. Their skin was like wet clay, somewhat malleable and pliable, or maybe they were more like the silly putty you used to play with as a kid. The water tended to bounce right off of them, so you opted to use a dry shampoo on their fur—or lack thereof.
Sans watched the entire time and you tried not to feel too awkward as you and Frisk worked. He wasn’t necessarily doing anything wrong, but you could feel his eyes on you. It was wearing on your patience and eventually you turned around, an angry flush on your face, and snapped, “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”
He smirked. You resisted the urge to throw something at him.
It was almost a relief to see him go.
The rest of the day went pretty smoothly and soon you found yourself packing up to leave.
“So, Frisk, shall I take you home?”
They nodded, a smile on their tanned face, “Actually, we’re gonna go to Paps’ house, I’m staying the night over there!”
“Ah, okay, kiddo. Then, let’s go, yeah?” You grabbed Luna’s leash in one hand and Frisk’s hand in the other. In your short time of knowing the kid, you felt oddly protective of them. You were pretty sure you’d fight a bitch for this kid if the need ever arose. Though, you weren’t even that much older than them, you shouldn’t really be considering them a kid anymore.
As if echoing your thoughts, they spoke up indignantly, “I’m not a kid! I’m nearly an ADULT!”
You laughed as the two of you left the shop, “That’s what a KID would say!” It took all of your willpower not to smirk at them and their flushed face. They were too fun to tease. It was like being with the little sibling you’d never had.
Frisk chatted with you about their family the entire walk to Papyrus’ place, even mentioning a sibling of theirs that… apparently, wasn’t even a sibling. They weren’t even really a human—nor a monster. You’d never really questioned Frisk’s family, nor their mother that by all means could not possibly be their biological mother.
There would never be a more perfect time to ask than now, “Hmm, so, uh, how’d you meet… er, I mean, like, Toriel is your adoptive parent, right?”
They shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so, they’re more like my real momma than… my mother was…” Their voice trailed off and when you looked over at them, they seemed to be deep in thought. Gently, you reached out and tapped their shoulder.
“It’s okay, I’m glad you have Toriel. Found family can be better than the biological. So, uh, tell me about your brother… Asriel, right?”
They nodded, the haunted look in their eyes replaced with a much more affectionate expression, “Yeah! My brother Asriel is really great… Though, uh, he likes to be called Flowey now… And I mean, he’s also a flower, but like, it’s not a big deal!”
You’d have to keep that in mind—Flowey, not Asriel. Also, what? He wasn’t a human? And he wasn’t a goat monster? He was a fucking flower? Was he conscious? Sentient? You weren’t sure… “I’ll have to meet him sometime. Maybe we can have a little picnic with your mother and your brother next week!”
Frisk agreed enthusiastically, their smile wider than ever. ‘I want to do that soon!’ They signed quickly.
You’d begun to notice in the two weeks that you’d been working with them that Frisk tended to switch to sign language when they got overly excited.
“I’d love to meet more of your family and spend some time with them!”
A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you continued to walk. Frisk led you into a short alleyway and out onto a different street… a very familiar street… it took you a second to realize this was in the same neighbourhood as your apartment complex.
You got a sinking feeling in your gut as Frisk led you directly toward your building, but you were relieved—probably a little too relieved when you realized they didn’t actually live in your building, but rather just a block or so to the right of where you stayed.
You liked to have your space, even if you liked Papyrus a lot.
“Do you have family?” Frisk’s voice knocked you from your thoughts and you took a moment to blink at them confusedly.
“Uhhh, y-yeah… I… uh do.” You weren’t really keen on talking about them… There wasn’t much to say other than the fact that you didn’t exactly ‘get along’ with your family. You were, for all intents and purposes, completely estranged from them. Your father was neglectful, drowning his sorrows in alcohol, and your stepmother was hateful. She blamed you for a lot of things—she even blamed you for your own trauma.
You sighed, “They’re fine, I guess… I have a dad, a stepmom, and a stepbrother. My… my mother died when I was younger.”
Frisk nodded solemnly, seeming to consider your words carefully before asking, “Can I meet them someday? They can’t be that bad if they made you.”
You were saved from having to answer when Papyrus burst through the front door of his house, “OH WOWIE! I knew we had the TINY HUMAN coming over! But I didn’t think that they were going to bring the OTHER TINY HUMAN over TOO!”
He lunged toward you, arms outstretched, and you instinctively took a step back, fear swirling in your stomach. He seemed to take the cue, though, because he suddenly seemed a lot more subdued as he mumbled out a quick apology, “Sorry SMALL human, I forgot that you do not wish to be TOUCHED!”
You nodded meekly, and awkwardly patted his shoulder—or rather, his forearm, you couldn’t reach his shoulder. “It’s nice to see you again, Paps, maybe you, Undyne, and I could hang out again sometime.”
Frisk whined petulantly and you smiled affectionately, “Well of course Frisk is coming too, that’s just a given! It’s no party without little boss, here.”
The three of you chatted amiably for a moment before the two of them waved goodbye and headed into the house. You carefully picked your way down the stairs, hands in your pockets, Luna’s leash dragging on the ground beside you.
You were feeling weird—almost jealous? You wanted to head in and join them, maybe sit down for a cup of tea and talk for a while. You wanted to share stories of family and friends, gossip about nightmare costumers at the groomer’s shop, or complain about noisy neighbours. It’d been such a long time since you’d just hung out with someone for the fun of it—not counting the unplanned hangout with Undyne and Papyrus earlier this week.
You’d lost contact with most of your friends, either because they had given up on you, or because you’d isolated yourself; it was hard to tell who was at fault for your solitude. But that wasn’t right, because no, blame couldn’t be ladled out at your discretion. Everything that had happened was a matter of choice—you’d chosen the path your life was on… even if you hadn’t meant for it to turn out this way…
You hadn’t known the consequences. You hadn’t been prepared for them.
Luna pushed her wet nose into your limp hand, and you blinked, suddenly realizing you were still standing by the front steps of Papyrus’ house. Your face flushed with embarrassment. You hurriedly reached down to scoop up Luna’s leash.
Some days it just like your head got away from you and you found yourself staring into space as you thought and thought and thought and the thoughts kept getting thought and it was nonstop. Half the time it wasn’t until someone called your name, or Luna noticed and got your attention that you would snap out of it.
Time flew by when you were like that. It was so hard for you to get out of your own head when you started to overthink.
“Hey, kid!” A deep drawling voice rang out and you flinched, “Sorry, heh, I just saw you out here… I just got off work and was headin’ home. Were you droppin’ the little kiddo off?”
It was Sans, he was in his typical faded blue jacket with its fluffy white fur hood, the black athletic shorts he wore contrasting hugely with the bright white of his bones. It connected, at that moment, that you were just standing in front of his house. You knew Papyrus had a sibling, although you hadn’t realised it was Sans.
You nodded in answer, still feeling odd from your lapse in attention earlier.
He seemed to sense something was wrong, “Hey, it’s gettin’ kind of late, how about I walk ya home?”
You shrugged, "I can manage, it’s fine..." you trailed off, noticing the look of worry on his face.
“Look, to patella ya the truth, I think we got off on the wrong foot… So uh, throw me a bone here and I’ll take ya home?” He looked so awkward there as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, that you couldn’t help but take pity on him.
“Yeah… uh, sure… I’d, uh, be bonely on my own,” you giggled helplessly at the end of your own joke.
The expression on his face made it all the better as his eyes widened and he let out a most unattractive snort.
“That’s good, that’s real’ good,” he chuckled.
“Well, I mean…” you chewed your lower lip, thinking for a moment, “if you like puns so much, I happen to know a skele-ton of skele-puns.”
He laughed and gestured for you to start walking. The two of you made your way down the sidewalk giggling all the while as you swapped jokes back and forth.
All too soon you ended up at the front of your apartment building.
You were just about to head inside before Sans stopped you, “Hey uhm, I made kind of a shitty first impression… sorry ‘bout that, kid… Yeah, like, really sorry for being kind of rude…”
You waved a hand dismissively, “No, sorry, yeah, you’re totally fine… uh, don’t worry about it at all. Besides, I could have been nicer, right? Sorry… Er, I mean, I’m sorry as well…”
He chuckled softly, the smile on his face much softer than you’d seen it before, “No bones about it, I was a real numbskull.”
“Nah, don’t be sorry! I’m sorry, just, uh, let’s start over, how about?”
He nodded, looking slightly relieved.
You were just about to head inside once again when he stopped you once more. If anything, he looked even more nervous than he did when he’d asked to walk you home. “So uh, I was wondering… as, heh, a way to ‘start over’…”
He took a deep breath, like he was mentally preparing himself for something big; you waited with bated breath.
“Look, I lost my number, can I have yours?”
You snorted before you could stop yourself and clapped a hand over your mouth as you giggled, “That is the worst come on I’ve ever heard.”
You could have sworn there was a light blue dusting on his cheeks, but when you took a closer look, it was gone, and his mildly embarrassed expression was replaced with the typical easy grin. You held out your hand, gesturing for his phone and he handed it to you.
You settled for the name “NOT Tiny Human” and typed your contact information in, “There you have it… Just don’t, uh, text me at like three in the morning and we should be good—or do, I mean, I’m not your boss.”
He snickered and for the third time that night you said your goodbyes, this time actually making it inside. When you turned around to wave one last time, he was gone.
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
titsay
origamiaround
snowghoul
izzy806
vaporwave
