Chapter Text
" gallimaufry "
(n.) a confused jumble.
“Long day at work?” You mother asked when you were back at home. You smiled softly and nodded. “We have some leftover pasta in the fridge you’re hungry.” She moved forward and gave you a hug, filling your nostrils with the smell of earth and grass. You hugged back, feeling your mind flutter and haze over in the warmth.
“Thanks. I just need to stop at my room.” You said, adjusting your sleeves and biting your bottom lip nervously. “You going somewhere?” you added when you saw her handbag hanging off of the chairs. Your mother turned to it.
“No, not really.” She replied. “I just got back, actually. There are still no leads on the driver. The guys at the station aren’t taking the job very seriously either. If Undyne was still around though, she’d have kicked their asses for slacking.” She let out a tired sigh and you saw how fatigued she looked at the moment. Taking her hand in your own, you looked at her seriously. She looked back, brows furrowed slightly.
“You better get some rest.” You stated. Your mother chuckled.
“I will, I have a couple of things to sort out first.” She paused. “And we still need to move Maia’s things to the attic.” You froze at that point, head pounding and rattling at the thought of having to wake up to a half bare room. At least when her things were still around you felt a sense of security. You looked down at your feet, half wanting to argue back.
But the tired look on her face stopped you. She looked tired and done.
Was she moving on? Was everyone else moving? Why weren't you?! Was there something wrong with you? Why couldn't you let her go?!
Deep breath.
“I will, just give me some time.” You replied. Your mother frowned.
“You can’t keep holding onto them forever, you know that right?” she asked. You paused, feeling frustration bubble up and rear its ugly head. You stiffly stepped back and walked away without a word, ignoring any calls directed to you. Shuffling up the stairs, you stumbled into the room and looked over at Maia’s side.
You hand found the switchboard, illuminating the room. Then you breathed in deeply.
You walked towards it carefully, then sat down on the bed, feeling the soft sheets under your palms. Something gripped your throat, squeezing all air out of you and you lay down on the bed, smelling the Rose garden perfume that was slowly fading away. There was a new smell as well, one you faintly recognized but couldn’t put your finger on.
Instead, you shut your eyes, feeling the last few traces your sister left behind. Your eyes looked at the boxes that contained her clothes and her trinkets, from trophies and medals to her notebooks. Her cellphone lay tangled up with her jewelry. Her account had been cancelled the other day and with that went her voicemail. You remembered dialing her number so many times as if possessed just to hear her again.
You didn’t show that you were upset with your parents, but you cried the entire night after.
You lay there for a second until the feelings was too much to bear and you forced yourself off her bed, feeling like a traitor. You’re a traitor. Your brain chanted over and over. You were forgetting about her and the sound of her voice, so caught up in your own problems. You weren’t grieving; you were supposed to be grieving.
Taking a deep breath in and out, you looked up at your bookshelf where the augury was nestled between a copy of Pride and Prejudice and Twelfth Night. You reached up and pulled it out of its spot, flipping the pages. Sans was right about one thing; the book was ticking away since you had last left it a week ago.
Words were scrawled on a new page. Words in black ink. Words that made a poem.
You...were really going to suck at figuring this out...
There once lived a Sparrow
Who in a storm was tossed in the wind
The wind blew north
It’s cries gone unheard
The rain came down heavy and hard
washed it away with its turbulent currents
And tried to have it drowned.
It was soon taken away
far from home
Far from familiarity
Far from love.
And the Sparrow lost its voice.
It lost its will to live and
It lost its happiness
It found themselves alone and cold
Lost…
Lost and to never be found.
It wasn't a long poem, but you had the nagging feeling it was incomplete. The depressing tone of it didn’t make you feel any better either.
You shut the book and was about to place it back in the shelf before you had another idea and pushed it on your desk. It didn’t explain anything, but you didn’t complain either. It wasn’t a trap since it didn't explode or try to eat your face and while Sans’ advise didn’t really work, he wasn’t lying to you either. You sat back on your bed and stared into the wall blankly.
The poem was about you, that much was obvious; but all it did was personify your current predicament. There was no sign on what you should do. Groaning, you fell back on bed and proceeded glare up at the ceiling.
“Well?” Sans asked, materializing before you, stack of papers in his hands. You glared at him, then turned around. You heard him sigh. “Now that is rude. If you don’t wish to speak to me then you could just say it.” You scoffed and rose, facing him. His arms were now crossed while he stood there watching you, then he sat on Maia’s bed like he usually does, placing the sheets next to him. You didn’t stop him; you had given up on doing so anyway.
“Like that’s going to stop you.” you mumbled. Sans tilted his skull to the side with a soft chuckle. “But there wasn’t anything that could help. Just a poem that didn’t explain much.” You fell back again and shut your eyes. “I feel tired.” You mumbled.
“Then you should rest.” He replied softly. You hummed, turning your body to your side to face him. His wine eyelights were trained on you as well, shining against the darkness of his eye-sockets. You didn’t know why, but you found your lips quirking upwards at the sight of him pulling on his magnetic glasses and peering through his sheets. He was probably correcting some homework.
“Do demons sleep?” you mumbled. Sans looked up into your eyes, a small smile playing on his mouth.
“We do, but not as much as a human.” he replied. “It isn’t as much of a necessity considering our endurance. Quite useful too…” he motioned to the piles next to him and you could have sworn there was a hint of weariness in his eyelights.
“When was the last time you slept?” you asked, watching his eyelights flit over the paper, showing slight annoyances from time to time.
“A few weeks ago at the most.” You blinked with awe at his answer and Sans grinned, resting his mandible on his hand. “Why? Are you actually going soft for me, darling?” You choked, feeling your cheeks heat up and you turned around. Then you rose.
“No.” you stated flatly. “Now please leave. I need to change into my pajamas and eat some leftovers.” Sans rose, but he didn’t move just yet. You huffed impatiently under his amused gaze as you walked over and tried to push the seven foot eight tall pile of bones out of tour room. He backed away a few steps, then stopped, looking down at you.
He whispered you name softly and you froze, glancing up at him, hands on his ribcage. He paused, hands reaching up to cradle your face, cold bone against warm skin. You found yourself breathing in heavily, head dazed…
And he smushed you cheeks together with a sadistic grin on his skull.
Wha-
WHAT?!
You groaned between his hands, slapping away his hold. He chuckled with glee and stepped out of the room and you shut the door. “You suck, Sans.” You muttered to him through the half open crack. Sans ducked back into your line of sight, hand reaching out and stopping you from shutting it. His skull leaned forward.
“I adore you too, darling.” He whispered with a teasing hint in his voice.
You stuck your tongue out at him in retaliation and slammed the door on him. You turned around, taking in deep breathes, trying to still the pounding in your ears. There was knock on the door and you opened it again, staring up at his skull.
“I need to correct those papers. Unless you want a ‘C’ in your assignment for disrupting my corrections and grading, maybe you should give them back.”
“Oh…”
And
"Fuck you."