-> @fontlocked from here
They don’t even remember what made them feel like the world was ending. They were just trying to hang out with Sans.
Chara’s been tentative about their visits with the skeleton. Frisk is adamant about staying out of Sans’ way, convinced he hates them because of a timeline the two had never stepped down, but Chara . . . Chara likes Sans. They think he’s fun. They think he’s lonely, and that’s a feeling they understand.
So they stop by his stand after work every once in a while. Bring him flowers and buy a ’dog in exchange. Tell a few bad jokes before starting to head home — and Sans usually walks them back.
They don’t know why, and they don’t ask why.
Chara knows sans wouldn’t give a straight answer.
Today had just been. . . difficult. A lot of orders to fill. Humans kept bumping into them on the way here. Loud noises kept interrupting their flow, and Chara is tilted off-balance.
So by the time they get to sans, they just . . . crumple.
“. . .”
The coat draped over them is hot and heavy. Sans is a madman for wearing this type of thing in august. But it’s weighted, and that heaviness grounds the little Royal. They sniff, and wipe their eyes, hugging a bit tighter around their knees.
“. . .
. . . I am sorry.”
