Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thursday, September 14. 17:35

“Huh?” you say with a tilt of your head, brows furrowed in slight confusion as you stare at your elderly neighbour. You must have misheard her, no way she just said that . Putting the basket full of your groceries to the ground, feeling a bit of relief when the pull on your arm lessened. You remove one of your earpods, the sound of distant traffic and other outside noises now heard more clearly. “Pardon me but uhm… could you repeat that?” Shifting your weight from one foot to the other as the question leaves your mouth, you look around and only glance at her eyes every now and then.

“I said: Monsters came out of a mountain!” Oh, so you did hear correctly. An amused huff leaves you at the bizarre statement before your eyes meet her worry filled ones. The smile on your face instantly drops as your brain slowly starts to register just what you just heard. “Wait wait wait, monsters? Like… monster monsters? Genuine beasts? Like werewolves and such?” She nods. “How have you not heard? It’s on the news, in the papers, everyone is talking about it! And I am sure that this is making rounds on the internet as well, isn’t that all you do? Use the internet all day?” That comment sounded worse than it was probably meant to be, but it makes you frown anyway since it still felt like a jab at your habits. “I mean… yes…” you sigh, shifting once more, “but my PC broke about a week ago and I’ve been busy trying to repair it, so I didn’t really get much time to be online…”

She just shakes her head with a sigh of her own. “It happened on Sunday in the early morning hours, I’m surprised at how fast the news spread, it’s been circulating since Monday… But anyway, some of our military apparently have been observing that mountain near Ebott City for years already and after that earthquake-"

"Wait, Ebott City? That’s not that far from here…” you interrupt, voice carrying concern but also curiosity. She hums an affirmative, “That’s why I stopped you! You looked so unbothered and calm… I wanted to check if you knew and well…” With a slight grimace, she averts her gaze to the side.

Shifting awkwardly, you glance at her. It’s sweet that she worries but it still doesn’t feel right and the long pause in conversation makes you frown impatiently. “Well?” At that, she raises her head again to look at you with an uneasy expression, but that’s understandable given the circumstances. Her eyes only meet yours for just a second before you avert your gaze to look at the trees and flowers, watching them sway slightly from the mild, late summer breeze. Your need to head inside is already intensifying, as the sounds of the outside, traffic - now with distant sirens added to the mix - and the unexpected social interaction become too much. ‘Fucking talk already’ your mind barks, the overstimulation from the noises pulling at your temper. She seems to have picked up on the change in your demeanour and quickly continues.

“People died, how many exactly they will not disclose.” Her voice reflected the disturbed expression on her face. “But for some reason, the monsters were willing to reach an agreement with some of our most skilled diplomats, that they-” Ugh… politics. Not having the energy for this, you tune out the conversation as best as you can. You know you should care about this, but right now you just can’t. The sound of a helicopter makes you groan loudly and you place the earpod you held in your hand the whole time back into your ear, hecticly pick up your basket with groceries and excuse yourself, leaving your now confused neighbour behind. “Just be safe.” Her voice is muffled due to the noise cancelling effect from your earpods, but you ascend the stairs to your little apartment, your breathing getting heavy.

With shaky hands, you unlock the door and carefully step inside, already hearing the muffled sounds of the welcoming meows and purrs of your little fluff ball, Sunny, as she greets you. The mere sight of her manages to ease some of the agitation and anxiety that built up inside you over the time you were outside. Closing the door behind you, you take a deep breath and let the familiarity of your home wash over you fully and another sweet meow from Sunny helps in calming you even more.

“Hi baby!” you say with a higher pitched voice, placing the basket of groceries on the floor, then roll your shoulder. Damn, you really need to look into getting one of those shopping trolley bags. After taking off your shoes and placing the earpods back into their casing to recharge, you open the bathroom door with your elbow like usual, not wanting to touch the handle without washing your hands first. You approach the sink and turn on the faucet, Sunny eagerly watching from the floor as she sits next to your feet. She knows this already, it’s the same thing every time, after you’re done, she gets pets and later on, treats! Rinsing the soap off your palms and fingers, you sigh and raise your head.

“Monsters… are real?” You ask your reflection in the slightly dirty mirror while turning off the faucet, stopping the flow of water. The corners of your mouth turn down far and you furrow your brows in thought. “I don’t know if I should be excited about that or terrified.” Tilting your head with an uneasy noise, you look over your own features for a moment before an impatient sounding meow draws your attention back to the present. You finally reach for the towel while looking down at the small British Shorthair-Siamese mix cat with a smile and coo at her. “Yes, yes, nugget. I didn’t forget about you~” After drying your hands thoroughly, you bend down, Sunny getting up on her hind legs to meet her head with your palm at half way. You chuckle when she stands on all fours again, bending down more to scratch her back slightly and rub her head a bit, rewarded with Sunny purring loudly.

WIth a huff, you straighten your back, then shoo the little fluffy creature out of the bathroom, exiting it as well then close the door behind you. Taking your phone out of the pocket of your hoodie, you decide to look into this whole monster situation but before you could unlock it, your foot bumps into the basket on the floor.

“Ah, fuck.” You groan, annoyed at yourself because you know that if you don’t put away the groceries now, you would forget them. Especially when researching something. So you begrudgingly place the phone back into your pocket. As you pick up the basket, you hear a notification, recognising the tune as a message from your best friend. “Arthur~” you say out loud, then make a ‘pop’ sound with your lips. This, strangely, being out of your control, almost like an automatic reaction to the sound. It doesn’t bother you though, since you’ve been doing it for months now. With the basket now on your dining table, you take your phone into your hand again, unlocking it while using your other hand to remove the bought items from the container.

You open the chat with Arthur, expecting his usual variation of ‘hello’, but instead you’re greeted with:

“Are you ok?”

‘ That’s odd.’ is all you could think when you read the message with a raised eyebrow before remembering that he is probably concerned because of the current events. You place the carton of eggs you pulled out down and use both hands to type out a response.

“A bit exhausted, just got home from the store…
Also had to endure an impromptu social
interaction with the neighbour lady.”

‘☆Arthur☆ is typing…’ With your eyes glued to the screen, you use the hand not holding the phone to remove more items from the basket again, only glancing over to what you are doing when you couldn’t find an empty spot. After watching the ‘is typing’ disappear and reappear for a while, you groan, opting to place the phone down to focus on the groceries. Removing the last few items and placing them with the others on the now overly full table. ‘ Did I really buy this much? I need to be more mindful with what I get… ’ Taking the now emptied basket into your hands, you carry it to its usual spot on top of the coat rack in the small foyer. The tune of a message from Arthur pulls you back into the kitchen, walking a bit faster than you would normally with your interest in what took him forever to type out. “This better be the best goddamn thing I’ve ever read.” You muse out loud while unlocking your phone, which has auto locked itself due to inactivity.

“I’m hoping your neighbour was kind

enough to tell ya about the monster

thing? News just reached us and I got
uneasy. I know it’s not that close to 

where ya at but still close enough for 

me to worry.”

There it is again, worry. A frown makes itself present on your face, why do they always worry? Everyone just always ‘worry, worry, worry’. You’re an adult for fucks sake! Turning 26 in about two months. Yeah, the disability makes things harder sometimes, but the constant worries and concerns make you feel incapable and like a burden. Another message pops up.

“Just making sure ya know. Read
that they killed a bunch of military folk,

only stopped attacking when some of their
own died. They agreed to peace if they’re
allowed to just co-exist with us though.
Leaves a bad taste in my mouth if I’m honest.”

“At least there’s not another war… That’s not what the world needs.” You remark out loud, Sunny meowing at you like she agrees, well, at least that’s what you interpret it as. She probably just wants snacks though. Shaking your head to stop the distracting thoughts, you sit down on a chair, ignoring the groceries once again as you begin typing your reply.

“We can’t be sure that they attacked 

first tho, you know how humans are.

Also, why worry about me of all people?

I barely leave my home anyway and I

don’t talk to anyone I don’t have to talk to.

And even IF on the rare occasion I were

to leave the house and bumped into one

of them, I highly doubt they’d show

any interest in me. I’ll be fine, dw.”

The crinkle of plastic and a muffled thud makes you raise your head harshly, meeting eye to eye with Sunny, who jumped onto the overflowing table and knocked down the packet of sweets you got yourself. You sigh, at least it wasn’t anything fragile that fell. “You impatient little shit.” Shaking your head with a smile, you lock your phone, stashing it into your hoodie pocket again. Now finally deciding that putting away the groceries was more important, you got up from the chair with Sunny immediately taking your place to scratch at the backrest. There was no use in trying to stop her, the chairs were old and she’d just do it again once she gets the chance. You stare at her disapprovingly for a moment, then go to put everything where it belongs. While doing that, your phone makes that familiar tune once, twice, then a third time, each making you do that same ‘tic’ you’ve come to accept, but you force down the urge to check it in order to finish your task.

After a few minutes, and a lot of impatient meows from Sunny, everything was where it belonged. A smile makes its way to your face as you look at the fluff ball, who is once again standing on the table. “You want treats, right?” You know very well that she does and place a quick kiss on her small, fuzzy forehead, Sunny bonking her head against your lips as you do so. She jumps off the table immediately after that and trots with a raised tail to the cabinet that contains all her food, snacks, catnip, and toys. Taking the few steps it takes to reach it, you open the cupboard and take out the container with her favourite treats. Her meows now become more and more excited as you pour some into your hand before putting them on the floor in front of her. Eager munching is all you hear as you put away the box and close the cabinet door, a fond slime on your lips as you watch her for a bit. You turn to the not so far door to your bedroom and step inside to put on some more comfy, home appropriate clothing.

Dressed in shorts, thigh high wool stockings and a loose hoodie, you have moved to the living room, sitting down cross legged on your couch, your back against the pillows. Not liking the silence, you pick up the remote, turn on the TV and switch to YouTube, just for some background noise. The choice was easy, selecting your ‘Music’ playlist and just letting it play before you took your phone to finally check the messages Arthur sent you earlier. Upon unlocking your phone, you’re greeted with the chat already open, due to just locking the device without exiting it, so you automatically read the messages:

“Look, I know ya ain’t leavin’ your

home much, but ya still do occasionally

and while the chances of meeting a monster

are slim, they’re not non-existent.”

‘Why is he saying that so matter-of-factly? The monsters have no reason to come here of all places. It’s such a small village with barely anything to do in, wouldn’t they want to stay as close to home as possible? Or at least prefer Ebott City?’ You zoned out for a few moments while getting lost in the multiple trains of thoughts that kept popping up in your hyperactive mind, to the point you didn’t even notice that you put your right hand's pointer finger to your lips, brushing the side of it against them with your thumb under your chin. Your usual thinking pose. After a short while, your eyes manage to focus on the screen again.

[Y/N], I just want ya to be careful,

got it? Anyway, I found an article 

that describes what happened so 

far, there’s even pics of those freaks!

Ya gotta check this out.”

You scowl. “He’s already calling them ‘freaks’... why are humans so judgemental?” The last message just contains a link, but you ignore the curiosity bubbling up inside you as the want to tell him how wrong you think what he said is, easily overpowered it.

“Dude, firstly, I know this is weird as

hell, but calling them ‘freaks’ without

even knowing anything about them is

wrong imo. Secondly, why would they

even come here? You’re saying it like

 it will happen and I don’t see why.”

Arthur's response came almost instantly.

“¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Murphy’s law. And do

I need to remind ya that they attacked

and KILLED people first thing when they

got here?”

An uneasy groan rumbles in your throat. He’s right but…

“Maybe they got scared? We weren’t

there. We don’t know what exactly

happened. I know I would be scared

if I were greeted with military in an 

unfamiliar place and an unfamiliar

species. So I don’t think it’s fair to 

judge. But ya, I’ll look at that dumb

article now.”

You move your thumb to hover over the link, hesitating a bit because of what this report might reveal to you in regards to the happenings from Sunday morning. In your mind, you’re already doubting that everything there will be completely accurate, especially since you can’t trust anything on the internet for the most part in the first place. However, the fact that Arthur mentioned that there are pictures of them, makes the previous curiosity bubble back to the surface and you finally press your thumb onto the slightly cracked screen of your phone. Looking up to let the page load, you scan the room quickly for Sunny, spotting her atop the cat tree, napping. Smiling fondly at her, you decide to voice some of your thoughts out loud: “I’m not used to Arthur holding such prejudice against anyone… Do you think what he saw was really that bothersome to him?” you ask the snoozing bundle of fluff, not looking for an answer as you shrug, your fingers unconsciously playing with the drawstring from your shorts. “It can’t be that bad now, can-” The words stop abruptly in your throat as your gaze meets your phone again, piercing yellow eyes staring back at you. The device nearly fell from your hand due to the small fright the unexpected image gave you.

Oooookay… this was certainly not what you were expecting. You blink once, then opt to close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing it shortly after. Opening your eyes again, the image still there, unchanged as the… goat… person? Is still staring at you. Gaping slightly at your screen, you let yourself take in the full picture of the goat monster, as it… no , calling the monster an ‘it’ feels wrong… as ‘ they ’ appear to be shaking a man's hand, said man looking tiny next to the fur covered being. You examine them closely. From the looks of it, the goat monster appears to be royalty of some sort, if judging by the crown resting in their messy, black hair and their attire is anything to go by. Glancing at the monster's face again, those yellow eyes make you scroll down to the actual article, mostly flying over the political parts. After skipping near all of the first paragraph, your finger stops as your focus falls on what appear to be… names? “As…gore?” And Toriel?” You whisper out in mild confusion.

“Hm.” Pressing your thumb to the screen once more, you move the page, scanning over the words for anything you deem interesting. Random pictures of the scene of the battle are placed between the columns when, with another wipe of your thumb, an image appears that makes you stop scrolling once more. On it, the already familiar looking being and a smaller version of what you assume is the same species, or… type, of monster. The tag line underneath it reads ‘Queen Toriel (left), King Asgore (right), with Meredith Avalon, Mayor of Ebott City (middle)’ Your previous suspicions are proven correct as the two monsters are confirmed royalty. Then, your eyes widen a bit when you spot the woman standing in between the two goat monsters, almost missing her. ‘ She looks so small… ’

Despite that,  she seems oddly composed and holds a professional smile. The thought of just how tall the monsters must be, leaves you anxiously chewing on the inside of your bottom lip, letting the thoughts come and go while you decide to take a closer look at the one called Toriel. Her eyes are just as yellow as Asgore’s, although way less piercing, but there still seems to be something unsettling about them. Same with her smile. Now that you think of it more, the demeanour of both Toriel and Asgore seem so… off . Hell, Asgore isn’t even smiling! A shiver runs down your spine when your eyes meet his again and even through just a picture, his gaze is unsettling. Shaking your head, you scold yourself: “Don’t judge by appearance!” and you keep scrolling for now, wanting to know what the rest of the article says.

Most of it is just political stuff that you just briefly skimmed through, not caring much for it. What you picked up on though was mentions of a lot of monsters who decided that they want to settle on the surface in Ebott City, while some others, like the King and Queen themselves, chose to stay in their homes in the Underground.

It made you wonder, if the King and Queen are staying down there, why go through all the trouble to come to the surface?

Did they just come here for the ones that wanted to leave?

Or did they just not expect to be attacked like this and it startled them so much that they changed their minds?

But then why would they even allow any of them to live on the surface if they now deem it dangerous enough to go back?

Chapter Text

Sunday, September 10. 12:42 AM - The day the barrier fell.

The sound of two sets of footsteps echoes through the tunnels of Waterfall. This had gone better than Papyrus expected; they finally have the last soul they need to break the barrier! He adjusts his grip on the unconscious human hanging over his shoulder, then wipes a bit of magic sweat from his face. It isn’t particularly hot, just too humid. Still better than Hotland by miles…

“I still can’t believe we’re gonna be free soon!” Undyne’s voice broke the silence. She sounds chipper, which he isn’t used to from his usually serious mentor. Yes, it is quite unbelievable that he is currently carrying the key to their freedom. Papyrus hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything; His mind somewhere else.

That human… Why did they not fight back? All they did was plead, cry and try to talk; Papyrus almost felt pity for them. Almost . Shame that his good for nothing brother let them slip past his station. That lazy bastard was probably napping! The skeleton clenches his free hand to a fist, gritting his teeth at the thought of Sans slacking off like always. He’ll have to teach him another lesson once he sees him, show him just what happens when you’re inattentive. That incompetent, weak, insufferable, lazy–

“We’ll finally be able to take our revenge on those humans! Roam the surface like our ancestors. I can’t wait to show them who they’re dealing with! Ooooh, they won’t know what hit them.” The fish woman spoke once more, puffing out her chest. Again, Papyrus only hummed in response, briefly glancing at the child on his shoulder. Undyne finally turns to him, noting the sour expression on his face and she raises a brow. “C’mon, Papyrus, what’s with that look?” She narrows her eye, studying him for a moment. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft after knocking them out.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Papyrus scoffs and straightens his posture. “Soft? I Am Not Going Soft Just Because I Am Not Jumping For Joy Over Having Won A Simple Battle Like This Against Someone Who Barely Put Up A Fight.”

His mentor grins, “I don’t expect you to cheer and celebrate over that , but at least show some form of satisfaction. You did something good for once. Something REALLY good.” She punches his free shoulder, causing Papyrus to lean in the opposite direction for a moment. There was a brief pause before she continued, “So don’t go and mess it up now. Not when we’re this close.” Despite the lighthearted tone, the slight glare in her yellow eye tells a different story. Making a mistake would certainly have him demoted - or worse, thrown out of the Royal Guard entirely. Papyrus couldn’t have that.

“There Will Be No Mistakes.” His grip tightens on the human, quickening his pace with more purpose in his steps than before. Failure isn’t an option–not when his position, his honour, his very future hang in the balance. “Not When I Have At Least An Ounce Of Say In This.” Undyne’s footsteps speed up to match his pace, the grin back on her face to show off her sharp teeth. She sizes him up, satisfaction gleaming in her eye. “Good, good. We both know very well Asgore won’t tolerate any signs of weakness from his guards.”

The remainder of the walk was uneventful. As they passed through the tunnels, some other monsters gaped at the human slung over Papyrus’ shoulder, understanding all too well what it meant. For some, it signified freedom—a long-awaited chance to return to the surface. Others, more cautious, saw it as nothing more than a risk, preferring the safety of the Underground. But for most, it represented revenge. Revenge on those who had wronged them nearly a millennium ago. Papyrus understood these sentiments—for the most part. Though he wasn’t there for the original war, many older monsters were, and he could feel their lingering disdain toward humanity every time they recalled those events. They had lost loved ones, unable to claim even one human life in return... A true pity, wasn’t it?

It was a long time before they finally reached the entrance to the Dreemurr castle. The whole time, the human stayed unconscious and Papyrus began to wonder if they’d die before reaching the castle. Their shallow breathing, however, shows the last signs of life flowing through the soon to be harvested being.

All they need is one. Last. Soul.

This soul.

The soul of this innocent child… Papyrus shakes off the thought when Undyne takes the lead and enters the throne room, her heels clicking with each step on the marbled floor with a slight reverb. The skeleton takes a breath and straightens once more to follow his Captain. The King– Asgore Dreemurr –sits on a chair in his indoor garden. His brows furrow at the unannounced intrusion until Undyne kneeled down, careful to avoid the King’s precious flowers.

“Your majesty,” she began after bowing her head. “We bring some important news.” Asgore puts his tea down, the cup meeting the saucer with a soft ‘clink’. “You have my attention. But this better be worth coming in without notice.” His deep, gravelly voice boomed through the large room, head raised and looking down on Undyne.

Papyrus finally approaches as well, then kneels next to his mentor. “We Have Captured A Human And Are Here To Deliver It To You, Your Highness.” The skeleton shifts the lifeless form off his shoulder with a soft grunt, then holds them in his arms to present them to their leader. The room seemed to hold its breath as the King’s gaze fell upon the child. “Here It Is, The Last Soul.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

A bead of magic sweat forms on Papyrus’ forehead, but he doesn’t dare move or say anything. Undyne seems to be frozen as well, her head still lowered as they both remain kneeling before their King. The silence feels like it could crack the very walls of the throne room. 

“Is it alive?” Asgore’s voice finally broke the tense pause, and Papyrus released a soft breath that he didn’t even realise he was holding. He opened his mouth to explain the situation better, but Undyne beat him to it. “The human is just unconscious. Papyrus found it wandering through Snowdin where he fought it, then came to inform me immediately.” She raises her head to look Asgore in the eyes, her voice steady and direct. “As soon as I heard, we made our way here as fast as possible.”

The skeleton narrowed his eyes at his mentor, silently glaring at her from the corner of his sockets. He would have explained it the same way, but her quickness to speak made him feel small, as if she didn’t trust him to handle even this simple task.

Asgore listens silently, his brows knitting together as he considers her words, a low hum of acknowledgment vibrating through the room. “Excellent.” He slowly rose from his chair, reaching for his long cane that leaned against the table. “Undyne, I want you to gather as many people as you can that are willing to fight. I trust your judgement to pick out only the most capable.” He orders with a firm voice, leaving no room for negotiation or denial. Without hesitation, the fish woman was on her feet, saluting. “I will see to it immediately, your majesty.” The sound of her heels grew distant as she made her swift exit, leaving only the three of them—Papyrus, the King, and the child.

“And you,” Asgore’s deep voice drew Papyrus’s attention back, the skeleton raising his head as the King took a calculated step towards him. “Leave the human here” —he points to the chair opposite of the one he occupied just moments ago— “and bring me the last soul-container. You know where it is.” Papyrus nodded, then rose as well, still shorter than Asgore even when standing. “Of Course, Your Highness.” The Royal Guard moved to follow the order, his movements careful as he manoeuvred the human’s limp form into a seated position. His eyelights linger on their unconscious features, his fingers tightening involuntarily around the fabric of the human’s shirt. They are just a kid… No, he mustn’t waver. His duty demands focus, not sympathy. Papyrus releases them when he feels Asgore’s eyes bore into his back, observing his actions closely. The skeleton straightens and turns, exchanging a brief but loaded look with the King before taking his leave to go fetch the requested item.

Once out of the throne room, the halls of the castle feel more claustrophobic than usual. His heels clink against the marbled floor, causing a soft reverb, which only added to the desolate feeling spreading through Papyrus. His gaze focused forward, his steps purposeful. Though, when he neared that dreaded room—the one with the coffins and the souls, his pace slowed slightly. The monsters would finally be free… They finally have the means to break the barrier.

But what would await them? 

Would the humans wage another war against them, crushing their hard earned freedom before it even began? 

Or have things changed? 

In just a few hours, it would be time to find out.

The closer he got to the coffin room, the tighter his own soul clenches. Six... soon to be seven, human bodies rest in it. Papyrus doesn’t know how old the other humans were when Asgore harvested their souls. And if he was honest with himself, he doesn’t want to. The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing the magically lit room. Seven coffins on the ground, one empty, the same amount of containers line a shelf on the wall. The colourful, heart shaped souls float within them, each representing traits. Kindness, Bravery, Patience, Justice, Perseverance and Integrity. What type of soul did this new human have? They seemed… kind with the way they approached Papyrus. Another Kindness soul maybe? …does it even matter?

The Royal Guard shakes his head and furrows his brow bones. There is no time for questions. He has an order to fulfil! So he approaches the shelf and picks up the last empty container. It is surprisingly light. The Royal Scientist—Alphys—created them, so they’re definitely infused with some sort of magic.

Returning to the throne room, Papyrus quickens his pace, the weight of the empty cylinder in his hands reminding him that he has already taken too long. His grip tightens, careful not to drop it as he efficiently moves through the familiar, barren halls. As he nears the large room, voices drift into his awareness—Asgore’s deep timbre and… a younger, softer one? Could it be? Has the child woken up? Rounding the corner, Papyrus enters the throne room to find the human awake, and—of all things—attempting to talk to Asgore.

Papyrus clears his throat: “Your Highness, I bring The Container.” The attention of both individuals turn to him, the child’s watery eyes widen at the sight of the skeleton.

“Bring it here, put it on the table.” Asgore’s order was direct, his gaze back on the small, fragile human. The Royal Guard wastes no time to follow it, his heels clinked with each careful step through the indoor garden. The pale blue light that leaks through the windows bathes the room in an almost melancholic hue. Fitting, really. Someone is about to die. Papyrus set the cylinder down, then took a step back. Though, he avoids looking directly at the child, even when he could feel their pleading eyes on him. Why are they hoping HE would help them? HE is the reason they’re here. …he is the reason they will meet their doom. No, Papyrus, the Royal guard is the reason monsters will finally be able to roam the surface again! Papyrus is a hero .

A small sob echoes through the room, then the soft hum of magic as Asgore transforms his cane into his well known trident. He raises it, aimed at the child. It trembled, silent tears flowing down their cheeks. “P-Please I–” such a small voice… “–I don’t mean a-any harm! I ju-just want to… go home…” At those words, Papyrus’ soul ached and his jaw tensed. But his eyelights remained focused ahead, just staring at a random spot on the wall. He can’t watch. He should—this is their big moment. The moment that would change monster history. But he just can’t .

“Your soul is the key to our freedom,” Asgore spoke flatly. “Monsters have been locked down here by your kind for too long. But not anymore. Today, we break free.” And with one swift movement, the King rams the prongs from his trident into the child's front. Papyrus only flinches when the long, choked wail sounded through the throne room. The trident bores straight through, coming out the other side of their small body. The wet sounds of blood dripping to the floor mix with sputtered sounds and coughs. Asgore’s yellow flowers, his beautiful garden tainted red as the blood seeped into the ground and the petals; A metallic smell quickly overwrote the usually pleasant smell of nature. Then, their struggle dies down. Skin pale, breathing growing more shallow by the second.

“The container now, Papyrus.” The King orders, causing the skeleton to snap out of his trance-like state, and he moves immediately, albeit slowed. Then, as he turns, container at the ready he makes the mistake of finally looking. His wide sockets meet the child’s—briefly. They move their mouth weakly, then it was over. Their eyes remained open just a bit as the last of their tears shed. Papyrus stands, frozen, only able to watch as Asgore pulls the red soul from the now dead form and deposits it into the cylinder. It seals automatically once the soul settles within it, the weight of a human life now added to the previously light container.

“Bring it back to the others,” The King retracts his weapon, the sound of flesh ripping almost makes Papyrus gag. ‘ Keep It Together ’ he tells himself, then nods and moves to leave once more. Asgore stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder, “Good job.” He squeezes the skeleton's shoulder, then releases it. “I will get Dogamy and Dogaressa to clean up this mess; You can go and join Undyne with gathering people.”

Sunday, September 10. 4:44 AM

A mass of monsters were gathered in front of the King, the barrier flashing in waves behind him. The anticipation in the hall was palpable, each monster there is ready for whatever awaits them on the other side. The seven souls float in the cylinders, standing in a line between Asgore and the barrier. He raises his arms, “My loyal warriors, after nearly a millennium of being banished into this dreadful mountain, forced away from sunlight, stars and the moon, it’s finally time!” With his cane he points behind himself to the barrier that pulsed ominously, his armour reflecting the light from the magical seal. “We finally have all the souls, enough power to break the spell that kept us here. But this is not the end of our struggle. Beyond this mountain, the humans await us. We do not know if they will greet us with peace or with violence. But we will not falter, no matter what awaits us. We are monsters, and today, we reclaim our place in the world. Once I absorb the souls, I—Asgore Dreemurr—will lead us to freedom!” The crowd roars with cheers, the promise of freedom encouraging the volunteers more, same with the Royal Guards.

Though, there is one guard who’s cheers are not wholly sincere. While everyone is infused with the battle spirit, Papyrus felt the dread from the previous events linger inside him. His mind keeps flashing back to how their eyes met his, how pale they looked and then the moment they went limp. He couldn’t get it out of his skull. He really should stop dwelling on it, focus on the present; The important things.

The air suddenly became charged with magic. Sparks flicker around the hall, largely centred around Asgore; The souls gone from their containers.

The King Absorbed them.

It is time.

Everyone holds their breath, the ground gradually begins to rumble. Small bits of debris fall from the walls and ceiling, hitting the ground and vibrating with the growing quake. Asgore groans, the hum of his magic building. His cape blows in the flow of energy that feels strong enough to force someone off their feet if they dared to get too close. The barrier glows brighter and brighter, Papyrus and some other monsters lift their hands to shield their eyes. Then, with a deafening boom, it breaks, blinding the ones who weren’t wise enough to look away. The skeleton hears a ringing in his non-existent ears, the ground still shaking under his feet. The blow must have caused an earthquake. There is a brief pause, the only sound the deep rumble of the earth and the fading hum of the barrier's magic being dispelled. Then once the small army of monsters gathered themselves, they marched on—towards the surface.

About two dozen sets of footsteps bounce off the walls of the corridor, led by the King. The Royal Guards right behind him, their eyes fixed on the way ahead, senses on high alert for any dangers or commands. Following them is the troop Undyne and Papyrus had gathered, a few volunteer monsters who were known to pack a bit more punch than the other citizens. Though, those weren’t the ones Papyrus is concerned about. He glances down next to him. His brother, Sans, walks by his side. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, shadows under his eyes and his usual scowl. The thought that he probably isn’t taking any of this seriously crosses Papyrus’ mind, and he clenches his jaw. If this lazy piece of shit pulls some stunt or leaves he’ll pay for it! He’s still in for a lesson after letting that human pass his station without alerting him.

Despite that, Papyrus is actually quite glad that Sans is here with him. Together, they will certainly be able to face whatever awaits them; And with the small army they gathered, they might even have a chance if things got rough. The ground beneath them still rumbled and shook, more debris falling from the ceiling, some even hitting the skeleton on his skull. But he didn’t flinch, just wiped it off and kept moving on. The end of the tunnel draws closer, he could faintly feel a cool breeze hit the few of his exposed bones; He was sure the others felt it too. The energy around him changed, even the King's pace quickened.

Closer.

Closer to freedom.

Sunday, September 10. 5:27 AM - Monsters reached the surface.

Alarms blare around them, spotlights focus on the small army of monsters. This is not what they had expected. A bunch of humans in uniforms scramble about, frantic shouting of different orders could be heard:

“They’re free! Don’t let them pass!”
“Someone inform the Chief!”
“Grab the guns! Move it!”

Guns? Papyrus had heard that word before. Guns are human weapons—ranged, as he recalls from the stories. He hasn’t seen one before, but from the stories the older monsters tell and history books he had read, he only knows they were dangerous. And responsible for the fall of many monsters back in the day. His stance shifts immediately to a more defensive one. It was the role he had been assigned for if things escalate; Defend the King with Sans, Dogamy and Dogaressa while the others go on offence.

There is a brief pause, then Asgore raises a hand and uses his fire magic to set the surroundings ablaze, some of the humans getting caught. Their agonising screams echo over the battlefield as their uniforms caught fire, slowly burning through to their skin. Dark smoke began to rise with the flames, blocking out the light from the rising morning sun and draping the area in an ominous darkness. Papyrus could only watch with wide eyes at the display. He knows the King is ruthless, but watching the sheer intensity in his eyes as the humans scramble about, writhing on the ground, desperately clawing at their clothes trying to save themselves as their skin starts to blister… It really was something else. But Papyrus has to keep his composure. He has to; He is a royal guard for stars sake! Even when the smell of cooked flesh and burning foliage assaulted his senses did he only so much as shudder, waiting for a command from their leader.

Papyrus swallows hard, forcing himself to maintain his stance. They could do this, Asgore absorbed the souls; And if the myths were true, he now held the power of someone akin to a God. They had nothing to fear. And with his brother by his side, Papyrus—he looks to where Sans was just a second ago, seeing he is no longer there. “Sans?” he finds himself asking while looking around for a moment before he suddenly hears a rapid barrage of loud banging noises as a lot of small projectiles start whizzing past his head. That IMBECILE! Immediately, Papyrus raises a wall of bones to shield himself and the King. He had warned Sans. Told him to not leave! To not abandon him! And what does he do?! Exactly the opposite! The skeleton scoffs quietly. Typical.

As the projectiles chip away at the bones, so did Sans’ absence chip away on Papyrus’ composure. Where would he even go during a time like this?! What if he does something incredibly stupid and hurts himself?! What if he dusts? …that thought caused him to frown. No, Sans wouldn’t. He might be incompetent, careless, lazy and irresponsible, but even he knew to stay out of situations that would cause irreversible damage. Papyrus growls, gritting his teeth and pulling up a second wall, thicker than the previous one. The chaos rages on around him. The smell of blood and smoke still fills the air, the spreading fire making it hard to see and the continued loud bangs almost overshadow the King’s deep voice shouting commands left and right. But some monsters get hit, blood gushing from their wounds as they push through and keep attacking. Others, not so lucky, fall to the ground, slowly turning to dust. And as their numbers dwindle, Papyrus finds himself asking once again:
Where is Sans?

Chapter Text

Sunday, September 10. 4:44 AM

Sans stands among the small crowd of monsters, a scowl on his face. He was just having one of his well deserved naps when Papyrus barged into his room, screaming something about how they got the last soul and to come with him. And now Sans is here, forced to listen to the blown up goat yap on and on. Yes, it is something big, breaking the barrier and all. But is a speech really necessary? Just get on with it. Finally Asgore finishes and the crowd erupts in cheers, Sans just lets out a half-hearted ‘yeeeah’. If Papyrus is watching him, he better show at least some enthusiasm. Though, once the shorter skeleton glances up, he notices that his brother seems… off.  

Well, Papyrus has been acting more tense than usual, even when he came to get him. But Sans thought that ‘ Boss ’ got some more of the stick up his ass than usual. So he decided to just play along with the ‘responsible Royal Guard’ act to please his brother. He might have to ask Papyrus about it though. Later. After a nap and some mustard. Eeeh, maybe tomorrow.

When the magic in the hall suddenly spiked, Sans raised his brow bones. The King really did it, huh? Absorbed the human souls. Does that make him something like a God now? …nah, probably not. Those myths are so old, it’s most likely just a bunch of overblown bullshit. The sheer power emanating from Asgore is something else, though; Enough to even make his cape blow in an exaggerated, theatrical way. Sans could almost roll his eyelight at the sight. The hum of magic intensified with the King’s effort, the barrier growing brighter. The earth began to rumble and shake, causing debris to come loose off the walls and ceiling. Damn what is this; One of those human comic books he always finds in the trash?

The skeleton groans, covering his sockets with one hand—too late, the blinding light that kept getting more intense already caught his eyelight. Then, with a deafening burst, the barrier’s magic dispels. For a moment, everyone was still. Only the rumble of the earth and the ringing in Sans’ non-existent ears remained. When he eventually gathers himself, his sockets widen at the sight—or lack of. The barrier is gone. That son of a bitch really did it! Sans could feel his soul start to speed up. This is it, they’d finally be free. REALLY free.

And so, they march on, Sans next to Papyrus with the other Royal Guards; The small crowd of volunteers behind them. He can feel his brother’s eyes on him as they walk, but he ignores the disdainful glances. Whatever Boss is thinking can only lead to more unwanted crap Sans has to deal with. The ground is still shaking under their feet, an earthquake? Was the blow really that powerful? The falling rocks and dust from the ceiling of the long ass corridor are getting quite annoying and his feet are starting to hurt too…

Sans glances up, watching as Papyrus stoically wipes some of the dirt off his own skull; Even now the tall bastard doesn’t even bat an eye socket . Heh. Seriously though, how much further do they have to go?! Just how deep into the mountain was his kind sent all those hundreds of years ago? He wanted to see the surface already! The sun, stars and moon like Asgore promised! The skeleton’s soul hums at the thought. All those comics he always reads describe the sun to be warm. He wants to feel it on his bones. Then, suddenly—he feels it. A soft breeze. Wind! Air! FRESH air! Their collective pace quickens, the others must feel it too.

‘freedom, here i come.’

Sunday, September 10. 5:27 AM - Monsters reach the surface.

Spotlights and loud sirens are the first thing they’re greeted with. Not exactly the nicest welcome committee, but that’s to be expected; They just caused quite the ruckus. Plus, their relation is already not the best. Hell, it led to his kind being banished! Now all those fucking uniformed humans are yelling some orders. If it were up to Sans, he’d have shut these shouting bastards up the moment they opened their mouths; Not even give them a chance to call for backup. But he has to wait for a command. No matter how much it pisses him off. Begrudgingly, Sans moves up with the other Guards, but his gaze turns up, sockets widening at the sight. The faint stars still in the sky and the first few rays of the sun colour the few clouds in an orange-reddish hue. It is… absolutely breathtaking.

Sans absentmindedly takes a deep breath, only to cringe immediately when not the smell of the fresh morning air fills his senses, but smoke, cooked flesh and… something horrible he can’t quite place. A quick glance reveals the source: Asgore. He had set fire to the surroundings and some unfortunate humans. The sight of them blistering from the intense heat is nice—they deserve it… and worse . As he turned his eyelight skywards once more, his brow bones furrow, sockets narrowing. That damned smoke is blocking the view! This won’t do. No, he wants to see more . Sans is sure Papyrus can handle himself; Plus, he was definitely not that of an important part in the Royal Guard so…

The moment of Boss’ inattentiveness is in Sans’ favour, and he uses it to quickly shortcut to the top of the mountain he has been locked in his whole life.

Quiet.

Except for some weird chirping noises and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. The sun peeks over the horizon, bathing the view in a soft, warm light. Some towns scatter the surroundings; One right at the foot of the mountain. Another, slightly bigger one further back and one smaller one in the distance. That one… That one called out to Sans. He wants to go there. He doesn’t understand why, but that’s the town he wants to explore first. Furthest from this hellhole.

A rapid barrage of loud banging noises draws his attention back to the battle that’s raging on below. That sure escalated quickly. But it is not Sans’ priority at all right now. He just wants to sit here, take in the sweet scents and sights of freedom as the morning sun finally hits his bones. It feels even better than he imagined. And for the first time in a while, he has a genuine smile on his face.

Despite not wanting to spoil the pleasant smell of nature, Sans reaches into a pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He keeps finding them in the trash that gets washed down from the humans; And one day, out of curiosity, he tried one. Ever since, he’s kind of addicted to the soothing feeling it provides to his soul. ‘Smoking kills’ the package reads and Sans just grins. ‘ not quite dead yet ’ he muses, pulling out a single cigarette and placing it between his teeth. While he isn’t able to use fire magic—like a certain pair of goats—he found out that just about any magic would do to light it up. So he raises his hand and uses a bit of magic from his fingertips to ignite it.

For now, he’d wait. Pushing the smoke out between his teeth, his eyelight keeps flicking between the battlefield at the foot of the mountain and the beautiful sight in front of him. He had found a nice rock to sit on. A bit hard on his coccyx but better than standing. As his gaze wanders, it is continuously drawn to that one town in the distance. The lights slowly flicker off as the sun rises higher. Part of him wonders how the humans there will react to seeing him. 

Will they meet him with the same disdain he feels for them?

Will they look at him with curiosity and wonder?

Or will they turn to violence, attack him at the first opportunity?

That last thought makes Sans huff in amusement. He’d like to see them try. If push comes to shove, he has a bunch of tricks up his sleeves. And as far as he’s concerned, he can always just shortcut away, too. He takes another long, deep drag from his cigarette, then slowly lets the smoke slip past his teeth. ‘ i hope boss is doing okay… ’ His eyelight fixes back on the scene below him, noticing that the action is starting to die down. A frown pulls on the corners of his teeth and he decides to extinguish the cigarette. After pressing the lit end to the side of the rock, he flicks the bud with his right pointer far off the side of the mountain, watching it fall until he could no longer see it. ‘ guess the fun’s over now. ’ he thought as he rose, rolling his shoulders. With a last, quick glance towards his target town, he shortcuts back into the scene of the battle.

A few dead and wounded humans lie around, among them piles of bloody dust litter the ground, the smell of death lingers in the air. The surroundings are charred, some of Undyne’s spears stick from the ground and fences caging the area. The scene immediately makes Sans’ non-existent stomach drop. Though, when his brother’s voice reaches him, his shoulders relax slightly. He saunters over, trying to act casual with his hands in his pockets. Like he hadn’t just been missing in action. What he’s greeted with makes him pause; Asgore appears to be… negotiating with one of the humans? A burly man—that looks all fancy-shmancy with his dumb, medal ridden uniform—stands with his back straight, hands folded behind him on the opposite side of Asgore, who holds a similar stance. Sans tries to tune into the conversation they were having, but Boss moves up to stand beside him. “Where Were You.” That sounds like more of a command than a question.

“whaddaya mean? i was right here–”

“Don’t Lie To Me, Brother!” Papyrus whisper-yells, his voice stern.

“fine, yea. i left. but only cuz i don’ care much for asgore’s shit. plus, he don’ need me.” Sans shrugs.

“But I Needed You There, Sans!” The slight crack in Papyrus’ voice makes him raise a brow bone, but Boss quickly clears his throat and straightens his back. “Look, Even Though You Are Lazy, Irresponsible, Messy And Do Not Take Anything As Serious As You Probably Should, You Are Still My Brother.” He crosses his arms, “But You Once Again Managed To Disappoint Me. We Were Supposed To Do This Together . We Had Orders!”

Now, Sans finally takes a moment to actually examine him. Papyrus looks dishevelled, his bones dirty and a bit of sweat still stained his skull. “ya look like shit.” Sans comments, giving his scowling brother another once-over. “but hey, ya managed.” He playfully punches his arm, to which Papyrus’ frown only deepens.

“Dogamy, Lesser Dog And Most Of The Volunteers Dusted. We Lost , Sans.”

Time seems to slow. Lost? They… lost? Even with the power of SEVEN human souls and their combined efforts did they stand no chance?? Sans’ sockets widen and he takes a half step back. “wh… what? no, what’s that ‘sposed ta mean? what do we do now?” Papyrus sighs, dropping his arms. “That… We Don’t Know Yet. It Was The Humans That Got Called Off First, Then This Man Stepped Up After Asgore Was Ordered To Stop Us From Attacking.” Both their eyelights set on their King, watching him and the man interact. Asgore’s expression is unreadable, but they know from experience that he’s enraged on the inside. “We Can Only Wait,” Papyrus turns back to Sans, meeting his gaze with a frown.

Sunday, September 10. 8:15 AM

Sans lets out a long yawn, slouching in his uncomfortable seat. How many times he had yawned like that in the past hours he doesn’t know. This time, though, he earns a hefty smack to the back of his skull. “Stop That! Sit Straight. This Is Important Matters, Sans.” Boss scolds quietly. Groaning, Sans adjusts himself to sit straight er . Why do they all have to be here anyway? Isn’t this just between the King and this… posh suit guy? Why does he have to go from being trapped in a monotonous mountain to a sterile looking room while they’ve been discussing whatever for hours? From what Sans has gathered, it's about monster rights and the repercussions for their crimes. The humans killed more of his kind than they did of them! If anyone deserves consequences, it's the humans.

Finally, finally they shake hands. Does that mean it’s over? Can they go home? He could really go for a nap right about now. But then, Asgore turns to the remaining monsters all gathered in the room; Only eight remain from the two dozen they had started with. “We have come to an agreement. In exchange for knowledge of magic, souls and mages we are allowed to roam the surface once more. Though, we are not to use magic outside of our homes or the Underground.” He declares firmly, letting his eyes wander the room, lingering on Sans for a second before moving on. The skeleton scoffs and rolls his eyelight, catching the attention of his brother once again. Boss glares at him and Sans is pretty sure if they had veins, Papyrus would have a visible one on his forehead.

“There will be living arrangements made for the ones who want to remain on the surface,” the King’s deep voice continues, folding his hands behind his back. His gaze is intense as it moves around, almost as if addressing each one personally. “The rest are free to stay in their homes Underground. Once this is finished, I will return to the castle myself.” Everyone looks at each other. The King wants to return? Why? Sans has to force back a laugh. ‘ so he’s gonna tuck tail n’ hide away again now that the myths proved false? pussy. ’ If those sayings about becoming a God were really true, he highly doubts Asgore would have just taken the loss like that; Let alone accept those conditions. But even then, it’s unlike him to run away.

“Undyne, Dogaressa,” Asgore’s voice rang out again. The two named monsters rise when they’re called, drawing everyone’s attention. “You stay with me, the rest is dismissed. You will be escorted back to the entrance of Mt. Ebott. From there, you will get information from General Miller on what to do next. I advise you to listen to him.” Asgore stands tall, giving the group another firm look as if to ensure his command was understood before signalling them to leave. The sound of chairs scraping the floor fills the room as the remaining monsters and some humans rise from their seats, the monsters bowing to the King respectfully, then being led out of the room.

Sunday, September 10. 8:58 AM

Stars, all this walking was getting on Sans’ nerves. His feet hurt, he’s tired and he’s had enough of getting herded around by some humans who think they’ve got some power over them. The only reason why none of his kind was doing anything right now is because of the King’s orders. Even if Sans really doesn’t care for them and would love to cause some havoc. But alas, he has to stay low. At least until everything settled.

They arrive back at the sight of the previous battle. It looked much cleaner now, some humans still working on fixing and cleaning the area. No longer does the smell of charred foliage and death linger, but it was replaced with something stinging. Sharp and harsh, like breathing in the cold air in Snowdin, but with a biting, sour edge. It makes Sans’ eyes water slightly and each breath feels like the air itself was burning. His face scrunches up, noticing that the dog monsters had an even stronger reaction to whatever the source of that smell was. Greater dog’s ears are lying flat on its head and it is holding its snout with both front paws. Doggo’s eyes shift around, probably trying to locate the cause of the strange smell once it moved, a paw also holding his snout. The humans, however, don’t really seem that bothered by it. ‘ they sure got a strange taste if this don’ bother them. ’

A few odd metres further stands the bulky man from before—the one who had been talking to Asgore—hands still clasped behind his straight back as he towers over the scene. As the group, still being herded by uniformed humans, approaches, he shifts his stance and drops his arms to his sides. “Greetings monsters of the Underground. I am General David Miller.” The man barks, his voice booming, carrying a natural authority. It reminds Sans of how Papyrus talks, but with even more bass in his tone. He has a buzzcut, and his uniform is a different colour to the other ones. A higher rank, maybe? Leader of the human Royal Guard? “Since nobody else was available on such short notice, I will be the one to tell you lot about what's going to happen now.”

General Miller clears his throat, then begins to march in a line back and forth in front of the group as he speaks. “First! I need one or two of you to gather how many of your–” he pauses, looking for the right word, “– people want to live up here so we can gauge how many homes we need to provide. Second! There was word of a scientist. Alphyn was his name? His presence has–”

“ Her name is Alphys. ” Papyrus cuts in firmly, narrowing his sockets at the man. Good one, Boss.

The General’s eye flinches, “Ahem, apologies. Your names don’t exactly indicate gender clearly.”

‘ the fuck’s that ‘sposed ta mean? ’

“Anyway her presence has been requested.” General Miller repeats, correctly this time. Though, from the tone of his voice, it’s clear the correction didn’t sit well with him. “Who is your first in command?”

“That Would Be Undyne.” Papyrus speaks up once more, “But She Is Busy With The King At The Moment. I Am The Second In Command.” He puffs out his chest, straightening his back.

General Miller nods, locking eyes with the taller skeleton. “Then it’s your responsibility to bring her here. Once you return, you will receive more information. And since you seem to hold the most authority over these folk for now, you chose who will fulfil the first order. Dismissed!” He stomps his foot once, some rocks crunch under his boot, before he marches off, leaving the group of monsters behind. Does he really expect them to just listen to him like that? Who does he think he is?

“Sans, You Will Go And Count How Many Of Us Need Homes On The Surface.” His brother turns to him, crossing his arms.
Sans grumbles, “why me?!”

“See It As A Lesson On Responsibility. You Clearly Need It.” Papyrus states firmly, though, a grin pulls on the corner of his mouth. That smug bastard…
“fine.” With his teeth gritted, Sans saunters back into the Underground to gather the numbers.

Wednesday, September 27. 15:30

It’s been about a week. Maybe more. And monsters are finally being allowed to move into their new homes on the surface. There are, however, still some restrictions in place—one of which is needing a permission slip to leave the area around Mt. Ebott. But that didn’t stop Sans. As soon as he had even a sliver of free time, he immediately took a shortcut to the town he’d picked during his little ‘escape.’

It wasn’t a precise teleportation, though. He landed with a huff—in a hedge. Sticks poke his sides, and he spits out a few leaves that had gotten into his mouth. After a brief struggle, he finally manages to shuffle out of the bush. He brushes off some of the foliage that got stuck on his jacket and shorts. Taking a quick look around, he didn’t expect to find himself suddenly making eye contact with a random human across the street. The teen notices that Sans is now looking at him, and the skeleton grins, causing the human to gasp and scamper away. ‘ heh, this is gonna be fun ’ Sans thinks, his grin widening.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and saunters down the street. The soft breeze against his exposed bones feels incredible, and the warmth of the sun peeking through the clouds is just as nice. He takes his sweet time, casually taking in the quiet town. There are almost no humans on the streets, and the few who spot him freeze and gape. Sans pays them no mind, too busy soaking in this new side of life. He could get used to this. And he’s definitely going to use all his free time to explore. As he walks, his gaze drifts up to the sky, watching the white clouds move lazily overhead. Stars, he loves this. But his peaceful thoughts are interrupted by a screeching sound and a loud honk. Instinctively, he shortcuts a few metres to the side and turns to find the source of the noise.

A car? A real car! For a moment, Sans’ soul speeds up, eyes widening alongside his grin. But the excitement is short-lived when the driver flips him off and speeds away. “Tch.” He frowns, returning the favour. With his hands back in his pockets, he turns to continue his walk—only to be interrupted by a stern, male voice. “Excuse me?”

Sans sighs deeply before turning to face the intruding human. Another man in uniform, though this one is deep blue, with a belt around his waist, a hat on his head, and an emblem on his chest that reads the town's name followed by ‘Police.’

“what.” Sans grumbles.
“You almost caused an accident. I’m gonna need to see your permission slip and some ID.” The man takes out a notepad and begins scribbling on it. Deciding this isn’t worth his time, Sans groans and turns to leave, “i lost it.”

“Then I’m gonna need you to come with me. Your kind isn’t allowed away from Ebott City without one.” The policeman’s voice is firm, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath it.

‘scared? heh.’ Sans muses to himself before turning back to the human. “n’ what if i don’ care?” His voice is a deep rumble, an almost manic grin spreads across his face as he leans over the slightly shorter man. The policeman swallows, his eyes darting away for a brief moment.

“I am authorised to use force if necessary,” the man stammers slightly, regaining composure. “So please, uh, sir , do us both a favour and come with me without resistance.”

“nah.” And with the blink of an eye, Sans vanishes—teleporting back home to avoid whatever the fuck that was. He grumbles, flopping down on the couch. ‘ i’ll definitely go back tomorrow. ’

Thursday, September 28. 17:24

Once again, Sans saunters down the streets of the small town. This time, he had one of those dumb permission slips. Getting one was a hassle—all those questions: Where will you be going? What’s your purpose for your trip? How long will you be staying? Bla bla bla. Still, if it saves him trouble in the long run, it is worth it in Sans’ eyes.

The humans here still stop and stare when he passes by. Makes sense—a bulky, walking skeleton casually wandering about is probably a new sight for them. Turns out the existence of monsters had been kept secret, so they’ve never even heard of his kind before, outside of their movies and comics. The depictions aren’t exactly accurate... but at least a few of them come somewhat close.

"Go back to where you came from!" A shrill voice pulls Sans' attention across the street. Three young humans—two boys and a girl—are cornering a rabbit monster he's seen around Snowdin a few times. Her groceries are scattered on the ground as they yell at her.
"Monsters aren't welcome here!" the brown-haired girl screams, voice dripping with spite.

"Yeah, we'd be happier if you just crawled back into that mountain, you freak!" the blonde boy sneers, kicking an apple into the street. It rolls and wobbles to a stop as the group bursts into laughter.
Sans' eyelight tracks the apple for a moment, then flicks back to the scene. His sockets narrow. Should he help? Heh. Nah. If the bunny’s too weak to defend herself, why'd she even come out here in the first place? It's her own fault, really.

He was just about to take his leave and continue on his exploration when another human walked up. A woman, looking to be in her mid twenties. ‘ now this is gonna be interestin’ ’ She approaches the group with a resting bitch face, but once she is close enough, her expression changes from annoyance to… uncertain?

“Hey! Leave—” she pauses, mustering the bunny trying to gather her groceries before turning her attention back on the group, ”—them alone.”

Apparently, that was all it took to send the kids running, though not without poking their tongues out as they fled. Sans’ sockets widen. ‘ did she just… help her? ’ There’s gotta be a reason for it. ‘ bet she’s gonna ask for cash or somethin’ ’. But no, after a quick check-in with the bunny—and the denial of any further assistance—the woman scoffs and enters the store herself, resting bitch face back in place.

What… What did he just witness? There’s gotta be a catch, something. Anything. Is the woman going to report the bunny? There is no kindness without a catch. But again—Nothing of the sort happens. The bunny lady just gathers up her groceries and goes on her merry way. 

A few minutes pass by and Sans finds himself debating if he should enter the store as well. He needs to find out what that was about. What is this woman planning? There’s gotta be something to it! Without thinking, his legs are already carrying him across the street and towards the small store. The front is just a large, decorated window with some grass stickers littered with flowers at the bottom and what appears to be the name of the store plastered above it a couple of times. From his position, he could see inside. There she is, browsing casually. His eyelight lingers on her form. The way she moves, holds herself. Something about it is oddly captivating, and she isn’t bad looking either… for a human. He shakes that thought off immediately and takes a step away from the window. ‘t he hell’s wrong with me? ’ 

Still, there is a strange pull that ultimately leads Sans to enter the store. The cashier greets him with a tense smile, but he ignores her—his focus on locating the woman who caught his interest. The store is cramped, just a few shelves line the aisles, so it can’t be that hard. And he was right, of course. There she was, just one aisle over from where he saw her from the window. A red, oval shopping basket in one hand, a box in her other. She doesn’t seem to have noticed Sans just yet, unlike some other patrons who gasp and move to a different spot in the store. He still doesn’t care. He just stands there. Watching her. Observing her movements as she puts the box into her basket and turns her back on him. Once she rounds the corner, Sans moves up to see what she took.

His eyelight searches the shelf before his boney hand reaches out to the box that looks the most similar to hers. ‘Tampons’ it reads. What are they used for? He scans the rest of the shelf to get a feeling about what this might be, before deciding to just open the package and find out. The sound of carton tearing sounds over the music, followed by the crinkle of plastic when Sans pulls out one of the so-called tampons. He holds it out in front of his face, eyes narrowing as he turns it, inspecting it closely. Looks soft, feels solid. A strange thing, something medical? ‘ maybe it’s for wounds. but why does she need them? she don’ look hurt. ’ Losing interest Sans just sloppily puts the box back and moves to find the woman again.

The rest of this trip was uneventful. Sans just followed her around unnoticed as she picked up some other unimportant shit, paid then left. Though, he can’t keep himself from watching as she walks away. ‘ what an odd one. ’ He muses, and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it between his fingers. ‘ interestin’, though. definitely need to keep an eye on her. someone tossin’ around kindness like that is up to no good. ’

Friday, September 29. 17:16

Sans rolls over with a groan, having just woken up from a nap. Stretching, he sits up, the sheets sliding off his body. He scratches the side of his skull with a yawn. How long was he out? Meh. Doesn’t matter. It was a damn good nap. Well deserved too, because he’s going to go back and do some more ‘research’ about that woman he saw yesterday.

He scoots out of bed, moving over to the chair he had discarded his jacket on earlier and picks it up, then slides it on. Same old, same old. After another stretch and long yawn, Sans is ready to make his way downstairs. From the top of the stairs, he could see Boss just getting ready to leave as well. Papyrus has been a lot busier since the barrier broke. Great—Means less of his nagging.

“Sans!”

Or so he thought…

Saturday, September 30. 16:53

Not being able to go out yesterday was hell. Just because Boss ordered him to help with tearing down the traps. ‘For easier travel’ he said. Ugh . Like that’s his problem. Sans pushes out some smoke between his teeth, eyeing the store where he last saw the woman two days ago. She hasn’t showed up yet, maybe he’s early for once?

Monday, October 2. 17:10

Sans hasn’t seen the woman on Saturday, maybe today is the day?

Friday, October 6. 17:51

No sight of her. What is she planning?

Tuesday, October 10. 16:46

‘damn, where the hell is this woman?’ Sans sits on a bench opposite the grocery store. No sight of her for over a week.

Thursday, October 12. 17:22

Bouncing his leg, Sans lights up his third cigarette. He hasn’t seen that woman for two weeks now. All that lying awake, constantly wondering what the hell she might be up to is taking up his time. Why is he even this concerned about it? Just because of some kindness? He pushes the smoke out between his teeth, about to get up and leave before he finally catches sight of that familiar looking human.

Finally.

‘there you are.’

Chapter Text

Thursday, October 12. 17:17

Basket in hand, earpods in, you’re on time for your grocery trip. Just like the little creature of habit you are. The wind blowing your hair into your face makes you groan. The way it’s sticking to your skin and lips, the single strands itching as you desperately try to wipe them away is a great addition to your already bad day. You had found out what the issue with your PC was, meaning you had to order new parts. While you don’t mind spending money on something like that, it’s still a lot more than you had planned for. Not an issue, you just have to cut back on… other things. Just the necessities today. You have some snacks at home from the last trip, and you can just make some cheaper meals until the next disability check comes—which should be soon anyway.

Another breeze pushes more of your hair into your face, and this time, you curse out loud. You stop, put your empty basket down harshly and shove the strands back where they won’t bother you again. Hopefully. Grumbling, you take the basket into your hand again, then pull out your grocery list. With furrowed brows, you read it over, hoping you wrote down everything. 

Cat food 

Kitty litter

Noodles

Bread

Cheese

Eggs

Sausage

Toilet paper

Feels like something is missing. But what? “Damn it.” you grumble and stuff the list back into your pocket. You’ll remember when you see it—Hopefully. Part two.

You already just want to go home, but you’re not looking forward to carrying all that back. You only have two hands. And as if everything wasn’t already overstimulating enough, the faint smell of cigarette smoke wafts into your nose. Usually, you don’t mind smokers, having been one yourself. But since having quit, the smoke just stings your nose and makes you nauseous. So you quicken your pace, passing by the spot you ‘helped’ that bunny monster two weeks ago. You scoff, recalling how oddly rude they were about it. ‘ I didn’t need help, ’ you mock their voice in your head as you enter the store. ‘ Go away. ’

Yeah, you’re welcome.

The sociable cashier greets you with her usual bright smile, and you give her a quick ‘Hello’ back with a forced, friendly facade. You are not in the mood for any of this right now. Luckily, the inside of the store isn't too bright and the familiar layout and surroundings, coupled with a bit less sensory input manage to keep you from having a full on meltdown. Well, at least you’re able to push it down for a bit longer.

Biting the inside of your cheeks, you manoeuvre through the store with ease. You know it like the back of your hand. First up: Cheese, sausage and eggs. Bread is next, then pet stuff and noodles. Last is the toilet paper. As you scan the first shelf, you come to a sad realisation:

They’re out of your cheese.

Great.

Juuuust great. 

You stand there, staring at the empty spot. ‘ I can just get a different cheese. It’s not a big deal. Calm down. Don’t cry. ’ The last thing you need right now is to start crying over cheese… You take a deep breath, only to catch another whiff of… cigarette smoke? ‘ Am I having a stroke? Why do I smell cigarettes here?! ’

You look to your right, then left and almost drop your basket. There, at the end of the aisle stands a bulky… skeleton with a cigarette between his sharp teeth. Staring right back at you with a single, large red eye. He’s wearing an oversized jacket with fur lining the hood, a red, turtleneck pullover and, strangely enough, shorts. His sneakers are tied sloppily, that ties the strangeness of his outfit together. Around his… neck… vertebrae hangs a simple, gold chain, which only looks slightly out of place. Overall, pretty cool looking. Solid 8.4 out of 10.

You nod to yourself, then realise you’ve been staring and immediately avert your gaze back onto the shelf. ‘ Don’t want to be rude, he’s just here to shop, too. Still, does he not know not to smoke in here? Wait, are they a he? ’ You sneak another quick glance to where the skeleton stood, seeing him still just kinda… standing there. Still staring at you. ‘ Am I in the way? ’ Begrudgingly, you decide it’s best to just grab a different cheese. So you do just that and move over to the sausage, taking your usual brand and the eggs before quickly moving to the other aisle.

Passing by the baked goods, you snag the bread you need, stuffing it into your basket with the rest of your groceries. The next stop is pet stuff. You come to a stop in front of the cat care section, once again scanning the shelf. You already know what you need, but decide to check if they have any new flavours that Sunny might enjoy. And they do! Turkey pudding. Sounds… ‘delicious.’ Sunny will be grateful. As you pick up the new flavour and the usual ones, you hear the muffled voice of an employee: “Excuse me! You can’t smoke here. Please leave the store.” Followed by deep grumbled complaints.

From where you stand, you can see the area close to the entrance of the store, where the bulky skeleton monster is escorted out with a scowl. Though, when his gaze briefly lands on you…

…he grins .

Your breath hitches and you quickly break eye contact, a shiver running down your spine. ‘ What the fuck was that about? An attempt at being friendly? ’ No. That smile was definitely not your run of the mill friendly ‘how do you do’ type of smile.

Or… maybe it was?

‘ I have to stop being so judgemental. ’ You scold yourself while putting some more of the cans into your basket. ‘ Now just the kitty litter, noodles and toilet paper and I can finally go home. ’ You bend down, carefully heave a bag of the litter out of the lowest shelf and pick it up. The weight of it causes the paper handle to dig into your fingers and you let out a soft groan at the sensation. You’re not looking forward to carrying this home…

You turn to the shelf with all the pasta, ready to grab your usual type when as if on cue for even more things to focus on, your phone vibrates in your pocket. Sighing, you hurriedly toss two packets into your basket then press the side of your earpod to pick up the call, already having a clue on who it might be.

“Hello.” You say, your voice flat as take the litter back into your hand and move to the aisle with the toilet paper.

“Hey, sweetheart!” The voice of your mother rings through the earpods, straight into your brain. You don’t want to talk right now since your mind is already buzzing with everything else that’s going on. Another thing to focus on isn’t exactly what you need. Still, she’s your mother…

“Hello.” You repeat, a bit more cheery this time.

“How are you doing? Hope I’m not bothering you.” She inquires, clearly hearing the beeping of the cash register and the crinkle of plastic as you pick up the bag.

“I’m just out for groceries.” You inform as you move to the cash register and start placing your items on the conveyor belt. Heavy items first, fragile items last.

“Do you have everything? Flour, eggs, vegetables, some fruits?” She lists off some other things, but you barely pay attention as you sort the scanned items into your basket. “...sausage, cheese, milk, pesto—”
“Pesto.” You facepalm, making the cashier cock a brow at you. From her perspective, you just randomly said ‘Pesto’. Without context. Good job.

You take a quick look around to check if nobody else is waiting to pay, then turn to the cashier with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I forgot something. I’ll just go fetch it real quick.” She nods and scans the remainder of your items while you move back into the pasta aisle.

“Thanks mom, I knew I forgot something.” Despite not always having the best timing, your mother still manages to save the day. Otherwise you’d have to either make another trip tomorrow, or eat dry pasta. And neither of these options are optimal.

“See! I knew it.” Her voice rings out again and you could even hear the smile she had on her face right now, making you roll your eyes. Back at the cash register, you place the pesto on the conveyor belt with a small smile, apologising once more. The cashier assures you that it’s fine, scans it then tells you your total. You pay, load up the rest of the cat food and the glass and wish her a nice day before leaving.

“Alright, I’m finally out of the store.” You huff, the weight of the basket, toilet paper, and the kitty litter in both hands dragging your shoulders down. “Can’t wait to get home.”
Your mother hums, “I can imagine. Knowing you, you’re carrying too much and are speed walking your way back.”

“Hey, I’m not going that fast this time!” You lie, breathing deeply. You can’t help it, slowing down isn’t really an option when all you can think of is the little fuzzball waiting at home. And the overwhelming want to get rid of the heavy things you’re carrying. Mostly the second option.

“I know you well enough, [Y/N]. Plus, I can hear you pant!”

You scoff. Yeah you’re breathing a bit heavier, not being in the best shape to be walking this fast AND carrying who knows how many kilos. But panting ?

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating! Plus,” you huff, putting the litter down while you wait at a crossroad, “I just wanna get back to my little Sunny. Got her a new flavour of cat food.” Once the road is clear, you pick the litter back up, pausing for a moment when you feel a strange tingle in your chest. Oh no. “Aaaand now I’m getting anxious. More reasons to get home faster!” You force a laugh, crossing the road while your mother comforts you.

Thursday, October 12. 17:37

Getting thrown out of the store was both a blessing and… well, a minor inconvenience. It kept Sans from doing something incredibly stupid—like straight up walking up to you and saying, ‘Hey, I’ve been watching you, where have you been?’ Yeah, smooth move, buddy. Even he knows that’d come off as creepy as hell. So, no. He’d keep his distance. After all, he needed you to act as naturally as possible for his ‘research’ to be worth a damn.

Right. Research. Because that sounds so much better than ‘keeping an eye on you.’

Whatever. He’ll think about that later.

But now… you’re out of the store, chatting away, but… to who? You’ve got your hands full with groceries and he doesn’t see a phone anywhere. Some kinda earbud, maybe? He squints, tailing you from a safe distance, trying to catch a glimpse of something—anything—that’ll answer his question.

When you stop, Sans halts a couple metres behind. Something about this feels off, though. Either you’re blind or you’re choosing to ignore him, because there’s no way you haven’t noticed he’s been following you. Not unless he’s losing his touch.

Whatever. He isn’t complaining if it makes his job easier.

Listening in, he tries to make sense of your one-sided conversation. Who’s this Sunny person? A kid? A partner? But your tone doesn’t fit that… it’s too casual, almost affectionate. He squints, racking his brain for connections, for any inkling of familiarity—until he realises he’s been going about this all wrong.

He should’ve done this the moment he laid eye on you.

He CHECKs you.

• [Y/N] - ATK 4, DEF 5

* Overwhelmed—wants to go home.

“[Y/N], huh…” Sans mutters softly as the magic fades, the name rolling off his tongue like a puzzle piece he’s just picked up. So that’s who you are…? He tenses when he sees you hesitate, half-expecting you to whip around and catch him in the act.

But instead, you keep talking to yourself, laughter forced and crackling like static. Something about being anxious. But anxious about what? The CHECK showed you’re overwhelmed, but—why? The cars? The people around? The weight of your groceries? There are too many variables, too many possibilities.

“...this is just raisin’ more questions than answers,” Sans grumbles under his breath.

One thing’s for sure, though—he isn’t backing off until he has those answers.

He watches as you look left, right, then cross the street, but stays put, letting you gain a bit. Once he is satisfied with the distance, he continues his pursuit, making sure to take note of every little change in your body language. The way you adjust your grip every now and then as the basket swings slightly with each of your hurried steps. How your head tilted down slightly as if to watch the sidewalk carefully so you don’t trip. The roll of your shoulders when your pace slows briefly, then pick up your speed once more.

[Y/N] ... He mulls over the name in his mind, testing its weight. You’re a mystery, and nothing about your conversation gives him any real leads to latch onto. He strains to hear more, catching the occasional self-deprecating comment or worried lilt in your voice… but it’s all too mundane. Too normal.

And it bothers him.

You turn the corner, laughter drifting back through the air. Sans tilts his head, focusing on your hunched shoulders, the way your grip tightens around the handles of your bag whenever you let out one of those choked giggles. Are you comforting yourself, or the person on the other end of the line? Every word exchanged is soft, almost soothing—like you’re talking to someone you know inside and out. But still… it’s missing that certain something he’s looking for.

“c’mon… gimme somethin’,” he mutters under his breath, a twitch of annoyance pulls at his grin. He thought maybe you’d slip up. Let something interesting slip. But no—just more idle talk, more fretting over little things. He clenches his phalanges, considering his next move.

Keep watching from a distance?

Close in and ask a few questions?

Sans sighs quietly, his focus sharpening as you approach a house. Looks a bit run down, faded yellow paint, slightly dirty. But big. Too big for just one person. So you live with a large family, is that it? That why you only come out of your hidey hole so little?

You round another corner, disappearing out of his sight and he debates if he should continue to follow, or call it a day. Is the risk of getting caught worth the little tidbit of information he may not even get? But this new revelation—your home… A thrill, like static electricity, zips through his bones. Finally, a lead. His mind already buzzing with how he could use this information for his benefit. Maybe now he’ll be able to find out why the hell you’re so damn ‘ nice ’. He’ll crack the tough nut that is you, he’ll figure you out.

‘ gotta look at the address, need ta save it for later… ’ After a few minutes of no more activity, and no sight of you or any other humans, Sans approached the house, getting a closer look.

There is a big garden that is sectioned into six parts. Two sections have a seating area with different amounts of chairs around glass tables. One of which is set under a wooden canopy with a variety of plants ranking around the columns and a part of the roof. The other sections are just grass with what looks like small fields with flowers, bushes and even some vegetables. A small tree shades the far back of it, and the whole area looks very nicely maintained. The pristine condition of the garden is almost unsettling. It’s too perfect, too cared for—especially for someone who’s rarely out and about. Someone else has to be tending to it… or maybe you’re just really meticulous? But it doesn’t match up.

The six divided sections nag at his thoughts. Why six? Why exactly six? It’s deliberate—organised in a way that feels almost… impersonal. Maybe it’s not just one house, but one of those communal living arrangements humans tend to live in when they can’t afford houses. It’s also those places where most of his kind were shoved into. Even him and Papyrus were offered one of those places. Sans still isn’t happy that Boss actually agreed to it. Luckily, they kept their house in the Underground and are still living down there most of the time.

But enough of that, no time for distractions!

Sans approaches the door which, to his surprise, is kept wide open by a wooden wedge lodged into the metal grate under it. “really?” Sans glances at the wedge holding the door open, a hint of disbelief flickering in his eye. ‘ they’re just askin’ for trouble leavin’ it like this.’ if people are this careless, maybe sneakin' around won’t be that tough after all. ’ He is about to just step inside when something catches his attention: Next to the door are what appear to be name plates. Name plates . Multiple. So it is a communal living area. Though, there’s still a chance that you don’t live alone here. He has to tread carefully.

Despite his better judgement, Sans can’t suppress the urge to read the names, not paying much mind to any but yours .

[Y/N] [L/N].

That’s great, he’s got your full name now. A wave of satisfaction spreads through his body. Why does something so simple make him feel that way? Well, maybe ‘cuz he did it on his own. He put in his precious energy into this and found a lead. Your home and your full name. Two things that are valuable information for his research.

He pulls out his phone—the one the humans provided once they saw how outdated their technology was. It has no buttons, meaning he has to use a stupid pen for it to work properly. Why did they get rid of them?! He misses his old phone. It is heaps better than this thing . The irony of a skeleton struggling with touchscreens would almost be funny if it wasn’t so damn annoying. But one thing is true: The tech on these is much better, having features that will definitely be of great use for Sans during this.

However long it might take .

One of those features is a map, where he can save and view addresses and even let the device plan out a route to these locations, and others! Good for Sans, so he doesn’t have to waste energy remembering all that.

It took a few minutes to figure out how that feature works, but once he got it, it was easy as pie to save your address as a ‘ favourite location ’. He wouldn’t exactly call it that, but there was no other option. Sans stuffs his phone and the attached pen into the pocket of his jacket. Now to just take a look around inside—

“Hello there! I haven’t seen you around.” A hoarse voice suddenly called out behind him. Great, just his luck. Sans’ shoulders slump and he sighs, then turns to give the stranger who dared interrupt him a piece of his mind, but his scowl softened slightly when it was just an elderly lady. Shit, he can’t just yell at her, but he doesn’t exactly know what to say either. Just be honest? Say he got lost?

“uuuuh…” His eyelight darts around, his body rigid. Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

“Are you new around here? Or looking for somebody? Maybe I can help you, dearie.”
‘ Dearie? ’ Why the hell—

“think i got the wrong house.” He grumbles, tone guarded. His eyes narrow slightly, assessing her. She’s probably harmless, but there’s no way he’s spilling anything. Old or not, people have tricks up their sleeves. 

The last time someone called him ‘dearie’ like that he ended up losing 500G.

So he moves past the old woman and back the way he came from, checking over his shoulder a couple of times, his pace quickening. That certainly put a dent in his plans. Doesn’t matter—he has what he wants. Your address and your full name; Two vital pieces of the puzzle that is you.

And he certainly will be back for more. With a final glance back at the house, he turns on his heel. “one step closer, [Y/N] . just a few more pieces, and i’ll figure you out.” He smirks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Things are about to get real interesting.

Chapter Text

Saturday, October 14. 10:21 AM

A loud meow right into your ear jolts you out of your slumber. You remain motionless for a moment, the remnants of sleep still slowing your mind as you try to piece together what just happened. Then, another more insistent meow makes you grumble and open your eyes. You’re met eye to eye with your little fuzzball, Sunny, who upon seeing you awake gives a softer meow. You smile tiredly, wiggling your arm out from under the blanket to pet her. The cooler air of the room hits your skin, but you don’t mind when you’re rewarded by the loud purrs from your cat.

Her soft fur slides between your fingers as you scratch, pet and let her nuzzle your hand. Her purring vibrates from her body into yours. You feel her weight shift with each movement she does until she eventually settles on top of you. The warmth of her body seeps through the blanket into you and you close your eyes.

‘ Just a few more minutes… ’ you tell yourself as you continue to idly pet Sunny.

It is about fifteen minutes later when Sunny’s purrs have died down to just relaxed breathing. Same with your movements, a hand still resting gently on her fluffy back. You try your best not to drift off again—no matter how much you want to. It’s so nice. It’s so warm…

‘ Just a few more minutes… ’ you tell yourself once more, slowly dozing off again when the sound of a message pulls you back to consciousness. It’s Arthur, and you grumble his name, then make a ‘pop’ sound with your lips as you turn to grab your phone from the nightstand. You open one eye, half glaring at the phone when Sunny gets off you and off the bed, leaving you cold and alone. You unlock your phone, navigating straight to the chat with your best friend and are greeted with:

“Goob morning.”

With a grunt, you type back your own good morning message before rolling over, staring at the screen. Knowing him, he’s gonna type back immediately—

“How are ya? Did ya sleep well?”

The message pops up, and you snuggle deeper into the blanket, glancing at the tilted

window. Autumn sure came quick this year.

“Cold and not really.”

You reply, tiredly eyeing the screen. It may just have been the recent strange encounter you had, but you actually had a nightmare. While it’s all slightly foggy in your brain, you can vaguely remember that glowing, red eye. A shiver runs down your body, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or recalling the way that eye… thing… stared at you from the darkness.

“Had a pretty strange
nightmare… Don’t
remember much of it,
just a red eye.”

Groaning, you roll over again, your bladder making it harder by the minute to stay put in your warm, soft bed. But eventually, you have to get up. ‘ Can’t stay in bed all day… ’ Begrudgingly, you sit up, the blanket sliding off of you, exposing the rest of your body to the cooler air of the room. ‘ I need to remember to close that window at night. Gonna get sick if it gets any colder. ’

You scoot to the edge of the bed, feet hitting the ground as you yawn and try to slide into your slippers without looking. Once you feel them on, you stand with a huff, dragging your feet to your closet to pull out a hoodie for the day and some fresh underwear, then make your way to the bathroom. Sunny, by now, was back by your side, meowing happily while leading the way. She knew this routine as much as you did. Each day is the same, with minimal variety.

Some people would call you insane, questioning how you could live like this.

Isn’t it boring? 

Driving you up the wall that there’s no change?

Strangely it doesn’t. It’s comfortable like this. No surprises, no new things to prepare for. Just the same old same old. It’s your way of living. And it’s good like that; Even if most people wouldn’t agree.

You managed to get to the bathroom without tripping over Sunny, who sits beside you, staring right into your soul as you relieve yourself. Why do cats do that? Once done, you wash and dry your hands, then put on the hoodie and fresh underwear, tossing the worn one right into the washing machine with the rest of the dirty clothes that’s piled in there. ‘ Need to remember to do the laundry… ’ You make a mental note, knowing full well you probably won’t.

As you leave the bathroom, your phone goes off again. Another message from Arthur. You sigh, taking it into your hand again while moving into the kitchen to give Sunny her breakfast. You open the chat:

“That sucks. Sorry to hear.

Pat pat pat. ”

You roll your eyes.

“Gee, thanks, Arthur.”

“You’re welcome :D

When are ya gonna

get on PC? Been waiting.”

Right! PC! The parts arrived yesterday, and Arthur was so kind to help you over the phone to put them in. Otherwise you’d have been completely lost. It was quite a struggle, though, but a meltdown and about two hours later and you figured it out.

“Need to feed Sunny,

then I’ll be right with you.”

You stuff your phone into your hoodie, then open the cabinet with all of the cat care stuff. You pick out the new flavour from Thursday's grocery trip and open it up. The meaty smell of the turkey paste immediately assaults your nose, making your empty stomach churn. “Good thing I’m not the one eating this. I’m sure you’ll love this, though. Right, sweetie?” Sunny meows excitedly, circling your legs as you approach her bowl and you try not to step on her.

As you bend down, she already has her head over the bowl, and you shake yours with an amused huff. “You impatient little shit…” You muse as you gently shove her back, then pour the contents into her bowl. She immediately sniffs it a couple of times, then walks off like it’s not her problem. “Are you kidding me? You always do this!” You frown, straightening your back. Why are cats like this? That is a question that you ask yourself a lot ever since getting a cat.

‘ Maybe the smell is as much of a turn off for you as it is for me… ’  After tossing the empty can, disappointed that Sunny might not be as into the new food as you thought, you make your way over to your PC, press the power button and while it boots up, check the time. 10:43 AM. Arthur always gets up earlier than you. How he does it, you don’t know. What you also don’t know is what you’re going to be doing today, but you always figure something out. Be it just talk or play a game like Minecraft.

The screen of the PC now shows signs of life, and soon after you’re prompted to enter your passcode. Easy, it’s ‘FuzzySunshine123’. Silly, yes. But at the moment of making it, Sunny was sitting on your lap and all you could think of was her. And it’s not like anyone else uses this Computer anyway, so where’s the harm?

A few seconds later and you’re greeted with your desktop, the background of which is one of your favourite pics from where you just got Sunny as a kitten. She was so small, and just so damn cute back then, not that she isn’t still cute now. The other monitor is a more recent one. On it, she’s laying on her back, front legs over her chest and back legs stretched out. She just looks so silly.

You navigate to Discord and the chat with Arthur is right at the top from all the chats with your online friends and acquaintances. You open it then send him a quick ‘I’m here’ message. It only takes a few short moments before he responds with a ‘Howdy ma’am’. A smile creeps onto your face at the little inside joke. Ever since you started playing Red Dead Redemption 2, he’s really gotten into the whole ‘I’m named after the main character’ thing and has been putting on a cowboy accent whenever he gets the chance. Yes, even in messages and when it’s not appropriate. But that’s Arthur for you.

‘Yes yes, do you want to talk now or no?’ you type back, to which he just calls you immediately. “Hey, Arthur.”

“Hellooo, [Y/N]!” He sing-songs over your headset, and you roll your eyes. Already in a good mood so early?

“I see you’re chipper, anything good happen?”

“Actually, no! When I wanted to drive to the bakery earlier today, my car didn’t start. I think it might be the battery, so I messaged my father to come help me get a new one. More shit to drain my money…” He groans, “which means I’m probably not gonna be online for a while once he’s here, since we’re gonna work on replacing it then.”

“Oh…” You feel your shoulders sag at that. Spending time with Arthur was always one of your favourite things to do. But yeah, the car takes priority. Without it, he can’t get to work. Or go literally anywhere else since his hometown lacks any form of public transportation.

“When will you be back? Or better, how much time do we have until you have to leave?” Your voice came out a bit more needy than you intended, and you stare at his icon with anticipation.
“Well, he said he’ll be here soon, which can be anything from thirty minutes to two hours or so. We’ll just have to make the most of it.” He says, his usual lisp coming through a bit more than usual; A clear sign he’s stressed. Understandably so. “As for when I’ll be back…” He makes an unsure noise, “That depends on how it goes. If we change the battery and my car works, including travel time to the next hardware store… should be about three hours total, maybe four. Don’t really wanna think about what I need to do if it doesn’t work… So let’s just hope for the best!”

You nod along to his words, despite knowing he can’t see you. Each one deflates you more. Of course something like this happens when you’re already just looking for something to distract yourself with. That nightmare is still making your hair stand on end; It just felt so real…

“Alright,” you sigh, “crossing my fingers you get it into shape again. Do you want to play something in the meantime? Or watch some YouTube together?”

“Sure thing.” You can hear the smile in his voice, making you perk up again. “Yay!”

So you spend about the next hour or so, just casually chatting and watching whatever nonsense Arthur put on. Something about motorcycles, a few minecraft videos and the occasional cat shorts. Still, each video does nothing much to keep the creeping feeling of dread at bay. You don’t know what it is, but something feels off today, and you don’t want to be alone. You really don’t. Not with your anxiety rearing its ugly head so early in the morning. It can’t be that you’re so riled up just from such a simple nightmare. Still, you feel the need to check over your shoulder occasionally. Really silly, you live alone with a cat. There’s nobody here—

“Ah, my dad just texted me.” Arthur speaks up after the rare moment of silence between you, and your stomach drops. No, not yet. Please don’t leave now!

“O-Oh, is he here already?” After a short pause, you assume he shook his head, since his next words are: “No, but he’ll be in about ten more minutes. Gotta get ready, though.” His tone is apologetic.

“I see… so you’re leaving now?”

“Yeah, sadly. But I’ll be back in a jiffy! Won’t even notice I was gone.” He jokes, and you give a weak laugh. Like hell you won’t… What are you supposed to do now?
“Hmm. I think I will. Be careful while you’re out, okay?” You tell him.
“I’ll tell my father not to drive into trees.” Arthur’s rough laugh vibrates in your headset, and you once again roll your eyes with an amused huff. “You better.”

You say your goodbyes and ‘see you laters’, then end the call. For a moment, you just sit there, still staring at the screen as you watch the little circle next to his icon go grey. 

Offline. 

You’re alone once more.

Still, the energy in your small apartment feels so damn wrong today. You check over your shoulder once more, scanning the living room for Sunny. Maybe she can bring you some comfort. When you don’t spot her, you sigh and just decide to play some Minecraft on your own until Arthur comes back, that nagging feeling of dread never quite leaving you.

Saturday, October 14. 12:50 PM

It didn’t take long until you noticed that Minecraft isn’t doing anything to soothe your mind. You have gone mining, which is usually your favourite activity. But today, all the sounds and the claustrophobic feeling the caves provide, the darkness and the occasional Zombie, Spider or Skeleton attack only helped heighten that feeling of not being alone. It all reached its peak when Sunny decided to finally show up by jumping onto your desk right in front of you. You let out a small yelp, letting go of the mouse and keyboard, dramatically clutching your heart when you notice it’s just your cat. She meows straight into your face and you glare at her. “I hate you so much right now. You’re lucky you’re cute.” Then, you press a quick smooch to her fluffy forehead.

You look past her to your screen and decide it’s best to quit playing for now. Maybe you could actually get some chores done? Laundry needs to be washed… There’s some dishes that need cleaning… You also need to brush your teeth as well… Food would be good sometime soon and a shower could help soothe you. Yeah, that’s the plan.

Laundry

Dishes

Food

Shower

Brush teeth

‘ Simple enough. ’ You give Sunny a passing pat when you get off your chair, grab your phone and shove it into your pocket.

First, laundry. 

You walk to your bedroom to check your laundry basket, collect the few items that are in there then go to the bathroom. There’s already some dirty clothes in the washing machine, so you just shove the other stuff in there, then close it. Or at least try to, when Sunny pokes her head into the opening. “Stinky-baby, no!” You shoo her and she immediately scampers off, but not after giving a defiant meow. Shaking your head, you actually close the door now and set the program to wash your clothes. A sigh leaves you once that’s set. One thing done, now onto the next.

The dishes.

You dread doing the dishes. The water on your hands running down your arms to your elbows. The occasional piece of wet food. The texture of the sponge. Just the thought of it sends a shiver down your spine and makes your hair stand on end. Ew. Ew, ew, ew . You would wear gloves, but those also feel horrible. Sometimes even worse than just doing it with your bare hands. Especially when water gets into them. Plus, you have that strange need to feel if the thing you’re cleaning is actually clean. Like if there’s still something stuck on it. You can’t exactly do that with gloves on.

So you move to the kitchen and power through it, setting out a kitchen towel on the counter for the clean dishes and hang another one for your hands over your shoulder. Lastly, you take your phone from your pocket and put on some music as background noise, then put it to the side. 

Sponge in hand, you turn on the faucet and brace yourself. Once the water is warm enough, you pick up the first thing—a fork—and hold it under the stream. The water hits your hands, some of the splashes feeling like tiny needles pricking your skin. The temperature is okay—it's not too hot, but still hot enough that you wouldn't want to stay under it longer than necessary.

Every wipe with the sponge is deliberate, squishing it between the prongs of the fork, making sure every bit of it is clean. It has to be done this way, otherwise your brain won’t let you move on. Once done, you rinse the utensil and grab the next. By the second fork, you need to take a quick moment to wipe your hands and get rid of the bits of water that ran down to your elbow. Eugh, why does this always have to be such a hassle?

Eventually, you make it through all of the cutlery with only a medium amount of discomfort; The trick with wiping your hands regularly helped alleviate some of it. It might be a bit of a waste of time, but it works for you.

Next, you move on to the plates and bowls, which are a bit faster to clean due to their shape and the fact you’ve let them soak since yesterday. You go about it the same way as the cutlery, wiping your hands whenever the sensation of the water got too much. Luckily, there aren’t that many. Just two bowls and three plates. Yes, still a lot… you really need to keep on top of everything better. But it’s all just so draining; You really wish you had a dishwasher…

A sigh escapes your lips when you put the last plate onto the kitchen towel next to you. One more glass and a spatula then you’re done. It never gets easier, despite what people tell you.

After all that’s set and done, you turn off the faucet and dry your hands one last time. Finally, it’s over. Well, not quite—you still need to dry everything. You take a moment to mentally prepare yourself, stretch your back and roll your shoulders. You don’t know what it is, but every time you have to stand here like this, your whole body tenses up and starts to feel overly stiff. It doesn’t happen when you’re just standing around, only when doing the dishes. One more thing on your list of oddities.

Drying the dishes is much easier than washing them without the added sensory stuff from the running water. Once again, you start with the cutlery. Forks, knives, spoons. You put them into the drawer as soon as they’re dried, then move on to the plates. You run the kitchen towel over the ceramic, making sure that they’re sufficiently dry as well before opening the cupboard over the sink, stacking them with the others.

You huff a breath of relief when the last bowl is set and the cupboard is closed. Finally, you're done with that. For a moment, you just stand there, listening to the song that had started playing—Mother Mother - It's alright. Perfect song for the situation.

‘ I don't wanna know I'm not capable; I'm capable… I'm alright, I'm okay… ’ You mouth along with the song. That line in particular always hits especially hard.

You don't want to be seen as incapable.

As a burden who can't take care of herself.

But you're already exhausted from doing just two small tasks… You furrow your brows. No . Not going to let that drag you down now. You are capable. You can do this.

With a newfound spike in energy, you move onto your next task:

Food.

“Damnit, I don't wanna cook…” you whine, throwing your head back. Maybe you have enough stuff to make a simple sandwich. Not the most filling thing, but it's better than not feeding yourself at all. So you move to the fridge and open it. The cool air hits your face as your eyes scan the contents. Cheese, sausage… mustard. Meh. Cheese and sausage sure but the mustard you have doesn't fit well for a sandwich. So no condiment.

“This is going to be a dry ass sandwich.” You sigh, rubbing a hand over your now cooled face, then take out the packets with the cheese and sausage and close the fridge.

You put the items onto the table, Sunny immediately there to sniff at them curiously. But you don't tell her off; it's not like she can open them. You move over to pick up the bread from the counter and put it with the other things, then plant your ass down on the chair, one leg up on the seat, the other on the floor.

Sunny meows at you. “No, this is mine! Not my fault you didn't eat your breakfast you picky little poo.” You roughly pet her head then give her a gentle nudge to get her to make space. She takes the hint and moves to the other side of the table, where she settles into a loaf position, her back turned to you.

A soft smile crosses your lips as you watch her. She really is your everything, and you don't know what you'd do without her.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to refocus on the task at hand. You open the package of bread then realise you didn't put out a plate. Groaning loudly, you get up and quickly go grab one before sitting back down the same way as before.

The sandwich is assembled quite fast, and eaten in a similar fashion. You were right—it was dry as hell. You smack your lips a couple of times, feeling parched. When was the last time you had something to drink?

…why is keeping track of everything just so hard? You frown deeply, staring at the empty plate. Why do things have to be like this? Everything is just so much more difficult than it should be. Sometimes you wished you were different.

As you sit there, spiralling into your thoughts, Sunny walks up close, almost stepping onto the plate to rub her head against your face. It’s like she can feel that you are beating yourself up again. A sad smile creeps onto your lips and you raise your hand to give her an affectionate scratch behind her ears. You’re immediately rewarded by her soothing purrs. She really is your everything.

Saturday, October 14. 13:58 PM

You have just finished brushing your teeth, your hair still wet from the shower. It helped—somewhat. You at least feel cleaner now. But the feeling of eyes on you still hasn’t quite left. While in the shower, it was almost at its worst. Like someone was just there , outside of the bathroom door. Watching. Waiting . A shiver runs down your spine and you grip the towel tighter onto your body. ‘ I should get dressed. ’ Yeah, maybe that’ll help.

You reach for the door handle, but your hand stops just short of it. Why are you nervous? It’s not like anyone can just walz into your home. The front door is locked. You shake your head and open the door. Slowly. You peek out.

Nothing.

Well, except for Sunny, who meows at you once your body is in full view of her. She had waited by the door again. Maybe that’s what you felt? No, that’s just silly. You’re being paranoid for no reason.

You step out of the warmth of the fogged up bathroom, and move to your bedroom with hurried steps, clutching the towel so it doesn’t fall. “Cold, cold, cold…” You chant, nearly throwing open the bedroom door. Damnit, it’s cold here too! Why won’t you remember to close those darn windows?!

Too late for that now! Better just hurry up and get dressed. You rummage through your closet, pick out a pair of sweatpants, a tank and a pair of fuzzy socks, then disregard your towel to get dressed. The panties and hoodie from earlier are still clean enough, so you just put those back on as well.

The ringtone from your phone chimes in the distance, and you instinctively reach for your pocket, despite knowing it’s not there. So you pick up the towel, usher Sunny out of the bedroom and close the door behind you. Once in the bathroom, you look around, but can’t find your phone. You’re sure you took it with you. Or did you?

After about five minutes of searching, you end up finding it by your computer on the desk. You probably just forgot you took it there after you finished eating.

You pick it up and eye it for a moment, then shrug and unlock it. Probably just your imagination.

There’s one notification and you nearly vibrate with excitement, hoping Arthur is back. Though, when you open the app, you’re met with a message from your other friend—Emily. Just the usual check-up message to see if you’re still alive and kicking. You shoot her a quick message back, telling her about what you did today and how you’re feeling, then put the phone back down onto the desk before sitting down. Like usual, you pull up one leg onto the seat with you, using the other to slightly push yourself back and forth.

You stare at the screen, watching the video that got put on via autoplay and let your mind drift to something else.

As you sit there turning left and right in your swivel chair, the minutes passing by as you daydream, your mind suddenly falls back onto that encounter you had on Thursday. That admittedly cool looking skeleton to be specific. Does he live around here? Last thing you knew was that monsters were only allowed to even just leave Ebott City with a permission slip of some sorts. Maybe that finally changed. They might be a different species, but they’re still sentient and deserve to be treated equally. From what you found out with that little bit of research you did, monsters were not even allowed to use their abilities outside of the underground.

Which is a whole other thing that makes your mind spiral deeper into your mess of thoughts.

Abilities . 

Abilities like what? Can they fly? Have telekinesis? Invisibility?!

Your heart speeds up with the possibilities. Oh how you wish you had a monster friend who you could ask all your questions. It’s just so interesting! You want to know more!

…maybe that skeleton dude is willing to be friends? If he really does live around here, it might be your best bet.

But how would you go about it? Just walking up to him doesn’t seem like the best idea… but he smiled at you last time you saw him, so he seems friendly enough. Maybe you could—

The sound of Arthur’s ringtone hits your ears and your head immediately snaps in the direction of your phone. You snatch it up without hesitation, previous thoughts all but forgotten as you read his message, saying he’s just about done and will be back in less than ten minutes. Your heart leaps. Finally he’s coming back! You won’t be alone for much longer.

You put your phone back down after sending him a voice memo of you saying “Yippee!” and lean back in the chair. For a moment you debate if you should tell Arthur about your plan on befriending the skeleton, but he doesn’t even know you saw another monster aside from the bunny.

Well, it’s just about time then…

Saturday, October 14. 14:47 PM

“And I’m saying, that’s not a good idea!” Arthur half-yells over your headset. To say he hasn’t taken well to your idea is more than accurate…
“And why? How else does one make friends? You did something similar to me!” You argue back, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as much as possible.

“But ya don’t know what they’re capable of!” He barks back. Damn Arthur, chill.

“Yeah? So like any other person?” You roll your eyes.

“That’s not what I mean! They’re not stupid humans, ya can’t compare them with us! There must be reasons why there’s restrictions on them.” Arthur grumbles out. Yeah, he’s got a point there but…

“Well, maybe it’s because everyone’s always oh so scared of what they don’t understand so they’d rather ban it than try to get to know the differences and appreciate them for what they are.” You know there’s no point in reasoning with him, but you try anyway.

“They can be happy that they didn’t just straight up get nuked!”

“Arthur!”

“What? It’s true.” He lets out a tense laugh.

“You can’t just say things like that!” You scold.

“Right, right, I’m sorry.” Arthur grits out, then quickly adds: “But ya know it’s true!”

The argument goes on for a couple more minutes with neither of you backing down on your point. You still plan on doing it—no matter what he says might happen. You’ll treat the skeleton like a person, and everything will be fine.

“I don’t care what you say,” you finally raise your voice as well, causing Arthur to shut his trap abruptly. “I am going to befriend him and that’s final. You’ll see just how wrong you were once I got a cool friend who can do shit we only know from video games.” Yes, you know that sounded childish as hell, but you don’t care. You want to stop arguing with him already and just move on to more fun things.

After a long, tense silence, a static sigh reaches your ears. “Right. Okay sure. You’re an adult, you can do what ya want. I’m only lookin’ out for ya.”

“I know.” you roll your eyes, not interested in his type of ‘care’.

“Don’t say I didn't warn ya, [Y/N].”

Chapter Text

Monday, October 15. 12:25

It’s a beautiful day outside… the wind is blowing, trees are dying… and on days like these, Sans is once again in front of your house, watching like a hawk. Well, he isn’t exactly right by your house, just in a park opposite of it. He’s sitting on his usual bench, the one that has the best position for his research. A perfect view of one of your windows and the front door, what more could he hope for?

With one leg over the other, Sans lounges back, arms on the backrest, cigarette between his teeth. It would be another uneventful day, if what he’s gathered proves to be correct. You only leave your home on Thursdays for your grocery trip. He’s done his fair share of internet browsing, looking up why humans would act a certain way. What he found was interesting and actually quite useful information. You might have something called Agoraphobia, ‘ an anxiety disorder that causes an intense fear of becoming overwhelmed or unable to escape or get help. ’ He recalls from the wikipedia site he found.

Basically—you’re scared. Constantly . Of everything outside of your safezone. Which is your home. Hence, you don’t leave it as much. He’d honestly be concerned if he just didn’t give a shit about some random human, it makes his job of keeping an eye on you much easier.

He pushes some smoke out from his nasal cavity, watching your silhouette hush by the window for the third time by now. ‘ busy as a bee today, huh? wonder what’s gotten her so riled up… ’

You appear for a fourth time, closing the window now before hurrying back out of sight. His non-existent stomach drops, shoulders tense. Did you notice him? Shit, he had to think fast, should he shortcut away? No. What would you even do about it? For all you know, Sans is just sitting in the park having a smoke. So he remains, eyelight glued onto the window until suddenly, the front door flings open and you rush out—just a bag over your shoulder. 

Sans’ sockets widen and he’s up and on his feet near immediately when he watches you hurry somewhere. ‘ where’s she goin’?? ’ His phalanges twitch by his side, the cigarette falls from his mouth, landing in the dirt. He doesn’t bother to pick it back up, or even extinguish it before he shortcuts to the side of the street, the shift jarring as he lands, asphalt crunching underfoot.

A phantom chill creeps along his skull as your hurried steps echo through his mind. His mouth opens, then closes, your name dying on his teeth. He wanted to call out to you, but how would that look? ‘ calm the fuck down, she ain’t runnin’ from you… ’ he tells himself, taking in a breath as you cross the street to the small, run down train station.

…

…

Train station? Where the hell would YOU be going by train??

Even worse—how would he follow you? A train isn’t exactly the most inconspicuous way of transportation, with people crammed in there like sardines. Yes, he tried it before because Papyrus forced him to join on an out of town grocery trip…

Why did it matter where you were going anyway? It didn’t. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself as his legs moved on their own. Shortcutting ever closer, Sans now stood at a corner, watching you stand on the platform, your feet parallel, back straight but slightly swaying from one side to the other in a strange, almost bouncy rhythm. Your chest heaves with hurried breaths, probably from the way you practically ran the short distance.

There is only one other person there with you, a stranger it seems since they’re sitting on their own somewhere off to the side. Lucky, neither of them notice him. Other than that, the train station isn’t much to look at. A single platform stretches out, its cracked concrete barely wide enough for a few passengers at a time. The metal railing is streaked with rust, and weeds creep through every crack they can find. Overhead, the station sign dangles precariously, missing several letters as if even they’d decided to leave. The only sounds are the faint hum of power through the tracks and the occasional chirp of a bird, cutting through the thick, heavy silence.

That this thing is even still in use baffles Sans, but judging by the staticky tune and the slightly warped sound of a voice announcing a train arriving, it very well still is. He watches you tense, clenching and unclenching your hands by your sides, standing still now.

The train arrives shortly after, screeching to a halt. The loud, grating noise made even Sans cringe, but he isn’t deterred. His eyelight is still firmly on the back of your head as you approach the wagon door. Pressing the button with your knuckle, your chest raises then falls with a heavy sigh, taking in the last bit of the cool, fresh air before you enter.

“damnit… what now?” He grumbles under his breath. He can’t lose you—not with this new development. The doors hiss as they begin to slide shut.

Shit.

His eyelight flickers toward them, then back to where you disappeared inside. A normal monster would let it go—but he isn’t normal, and he sure as hell isn’t letting you get away that easily. Before he can think it through, his magic flares, and in a blink, he’s standing at the other end of the train. A rash and admittedly very stupid decision, but he just couldn’t stop himself; his curiosity and need to see where you’re going was too strong.

The wagon is cramped, the air stale and tinged with sweat and metal. The sudden jerk of motion throws Sans off balance, making him grab for a pole with a hissed curse. It’s stuffy, loud, and the faint hum of too-close conversations grates against his skull.

He notices the stares almost immediately—wide eyes, gasps, even a kid pointing like he’s some circus act. It grates on him, and he shoots them a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. They look away, except for the kid, who just keeps grinning like Sans is the best thing they’ve seen all day.

Ignoring them, he scans the wagon. He spots you sitting by a window, focused on the phone in your hand. His soul thrums in his ribcage, fingers twitching at his side. What to do, what to do… It’s not like he can just ask where you’re going. ‘ best to just lay low n’ keep an eye on her. ’

Monday, October 15. 12:48

Getting on the train relatively unnoticed was a piece of cake compared to getting off. As the train slowed, you rose to your feet, and Sans felt his soul start to speed up, his whole body tense, eyelight glued on your back. You gather your bag, sling it over your shoulder and luckily don’t turn to face him, choosing to leave through the door you came in from. Once you’re off the train, Sans finally moves too, following the flow of people leaving the cramped space. It is difficult keeping you in his sight with you manoeuvring through the small crowd like you do this regularly.

Is this a piece he’d been missing?

Do you do more than what you let on?

Following you to the other platform as well as he could through the thinning crowd of people gaping and glaring at him. At one point, someone even brushes shoulders with him, mumbling something under their breath and Sans has to bite his tongue to not tell them where to stick it. Still, he wonders how you appear to be the only one who just doesn’t seem to notice him. Like you’re so stuck in your own little bubble to care.

For some unknown reason, it infuriates him. Maybe it’s the way you move, like you own the space around you despite being so small. Or maybe it’s the fact that you don’t see him—don’t notice him—like he’s just part of the scenery. For someone like him, that wasn’t normal. That wasn’t right.

Shaking his head, he pushes those unwanted feelings down just as you come to a stop near the edge of the platform, starting your little swaying dance once again. He pushes out a sigh, taking the moment of reprieve to inspect his surroundings.

This station looks more modern, well kept and clean. The signs aren’t missing letters, looking like they’ve just been granted a fresh coat of paint not too long ago, reflecting the cold, fluorescent lights overhead. The concrete lacks all the cracks, no weeds, the only imperfections being the occasional piece of old gum wedged between the bricks. Even the speakers sound more crisp and lack the staticy ting. The metal seating is equally well kept, no rust to be seen and there was a long roof covering both of the platforms, providing some shelter from the elements if it were to rain or snow. Hell, there were electronic looking signs with the upcoming trains listed with times and everything!

His eyelight settles back on you. Just like before, you stop swaying, standing straight with a tight grip on your bag when a jingle rings through the speaker, followed by the voice of a woman: “Platform two, the train to Ebott City is now arriving. Please keep behind the yellow line and hold onto strollers and other items.”

‘ ebott city… ’ The words snag in his mind, sharp and sudden. He raises a hand, teeth worrying at the edge of his thumb as he waits for any reaction from you.

Nothing.

You stand there—idly.

Are you going to get on the train? Or is there someone on it you’re waiting to meet?

The screech of brakes cuts through the air, making you flinch. Sans notices the way your hands dart to your ears, shoulders tensing as if to block the sound out. He files that reaction away—something about it feels… significant.

The train doors open, releasing a wave of people onto the platform. Some move with purpose, others drift aimlessly, phones in hand. A few glance at him—wide-eyed, annoyed—but he doesn’t move, doesn’t care. His sockets stay locked on you, even as the tide of bodies begins to thin.

And then you step forward.

Damnit. Sans grits his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides. This was starting to wear on him. The sneaking, the waiting, the wondering—it had been fun, at first. A way to kill time. But now? Now it felt like a chore.

Was it worth the effort?

Yes.

Before he can second-guess himself, he’s on the train again, shortcutting to the opposite side of the wagon you entered. His gaze sweeps the space, noting the cleaner, more spacious interior. It’s nicer than the last one, but he barely registers the difference. The humans here don’t smell as bad, and the air isn’t as stifling, but their glares are just as sharp. Not that it fazes him. Not one bit. Especially if enduring them means being close to you furthering his research.

Sans shakes his head. Why the hell does this matter so much? It shouldn’t. But then again, nothing should’ve mattered, and yet here he is, skulking through train stations like some two-bit stalker. Real dignified. But no—this isn’t stalking. Not really. It is… research.

Just research.

Once again, he spots you. This time, you’re standing by the doors you entered from, focused on your phone like before. Stuck in your own little world. Judging by the smile on your face, you’re either looking at something funny, or you’re messaging someone.

The second realisation made Sans’ soul tighten with a feeling he’s unfamiliar with. Jealousy? Nah, couldn’t be. He didn’t get jealous—he got even. And yet… his soul felt like it was twisting in on itself, sharp and irritating, and no matter how much he tried to push it down, it stuck. Gripping the pole hard enough to make his bones creek, he forces a calm facade. Giving himself away now would only ruin all the efforts he had gone through to get this far in the first place. Wherever ‘this far’ is.

The train begins to move, causing you to shift your weight, pressing more against the separation from the seats, your smile disappearing.

Sans scoffs quietly. Wherever this little adventure is leading, it better be worth it. And it better give him some good information on you as well. The more he knows about you, the more accurately he can point whether you’re playing him for a fool or you’re actually being genuine with your so-called kindness.

Monday, October 15. 13:00

People board, get off. Not much of note happened for a long time and Sans started to regret following you. He let out a yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth to make a point by showing his sharp teeth, golden tooth glinting in the soft glow of the train's interior lights. A silent warning to not get on his nerves for all the people staring at him like he’s a two headed horse or some shit.

A tune chimes before the robotic voice of a female announces: “Next stop: South Ebott City.” That is what suddenly gets your attention and you stuff your phone into the pocket of your hoodie, your eyes on the door. 

Sans silently hopes now that you’re getting off this damned vehicle, mostly for himself. He is slowly approaching the end of the rope with his nerves and the non-stop glares, the atmosphere and overall the whole ‘being with people’ thing is only making it so much worse.

Going out and about has never been his cup of tea, preferring to stay in the comfort of his home—the underground. But that changed now that he’s found something that caught his interest, and he has to get used to it eventually. ‘ it’ll be worth it in the end. ’

The train stops and you step forward, pressing the button to open the door with your knuckle. The doors hiss open and you get off. Once again, Sans waits a few beats, tracking you through the window until he feels it is safe enough to step out of the wagon as well.

Being discreet is near impossible, with him sticking out like a sore thumb. But luckily, you’re still oblivious, weaving through the crowd of people waiting to board, your destination unknown. This new station looked much like the other—clean and uninteresting with the odd advertisement flashing on LED screens of some monsters and humans shaking hands… Humans are really trying to push the whole ‘get along’ crap as much as possible, huh? But besides that, his gaze always manages to find you in the crowd, moving around like you belong here. Like the world wasn’t constantly watching, waiting for you to mess up. It made him grit his teeth harder. How could you be so at ease when he wasn’t?

Sans hasn’t been to this part of the city a lot, the people here seem to still shoot the bulky skeleton the occasional glance, but they don’t linger like in the less ‘civilised’ towns he had been to. They’re near the main part of Ebott City where the epicentre of monsters live. It would be odd if people here hadn’t gotten used to the sight of them by now.

He sighs, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. Whatever your game is, he isn’t going to back out now. Not when he’s this close to a breakthrough. Your destination will be another huge piece to the puzzle that is you, and he’d be a fool to let that slip through his fingers.

As the crowd thins near the exits, you appear to have some more purpose in your steps than before, and soon after, Sans finds out why: you enter a small bakery.

…a bakery.

“seriously?” He grumbles out under his breath, stopping in his tracks as you disappear into the store. Is that really why you came here? To get some dumb pastries? All that effort for this? No. There has to be more to it. Is this your workplace? Or does someone close to you work here? Family? Friends? A partner? Was that why you smiled at your phone? A date?

Why did he care, anyway? You weren’t even his problem. But no matter how hard he tried to shove that thought aside, it stuck like gum on the sole of his shoe, nagging him, pulling him deeper into this stupid mess you’d roped him into without even trying.

His hands ball to fists in his pockets, his jaw tight. What significance could this place be holding? It’s just a dumb, niche of a store with one window and a glass door. It didn’t even look fancy!

Sans is seconds away from barging in there to have a look for himself when you reappear with a sandwich of sorts and a bottle of ice tea in your hands.

Ah. That’s why you went in there. Just to grab some food. But that seriously can’t be it, right?

It appears to be, when you finally leave the premise of the station, crossing a road to a park and take a seat on one of the benches. Did you really come all this way for a damn picnic in a park? You have a perfectly good one right in front of your own damn house! So why come here ?!

He scans the park, sockets narrowing at every passerby who even dared glance in your direction, all while you sat there, minding your own business, looking unbothered like it was a walk in the park for you. Heh… No—Humour isn’t getting him anywhere now either. He needs to focus.

What is he missing?

Monday, October 15. 13:10

With a satisfied sigh, you crumple up the paperbag in which your sandwich came in. It tasted great, just like the other times you had it before. Good—they didn’t change the recipe. You raise from your seat, straighten your hoodie and toss your trash into the nearby can.

This was one of the best parts of having to go to these stupid appointments—the short period between the stress of the train rides and the relaxed moments you have before needing to move on. Though, somehow today feels even more pressing than all the previous times you had to go here. Maybe it was the addition of the occasional monster passing by that put you on edge?

You still aren’t used to the sight of the various creatures going about their day, and you find your eyes linger on them whenever one of them passes by. But not in a judgemental way—no. Curiosity fits it better. You are quite interested in them. How they used to live in that damned mountain. About their culture. Their apparent abilities… Oh how you wished you could just have a monster friend who you can bombard with all those questions that plague your mind.

But that has to wait. At least until you see that skeleton the next time. Your stomach flutters as you think about him, excitement mingling with the knot of dread already tightening at the thought of your appointment. Though, there is still that small part of you that worries about what would happen if he were to reject your proposal of friendship. You still hope it will all turn out well.

Huffing, you turn on your heel, ready to continue to your dreaded appointment. You hate those checkups—The bland lookin rooms, all the questions they are going to be asking again and again, losing all their meaning and becoming just words rather than actual interest in your wellbeing…

A shiver runs down your spine when you take the first few steps, a nagging feeling telling you to check your surroundings. Nothing unusual, just the familiar sense of paranoia you get whenever you leave your home. So you dismiss it, walking through the small park, looking at the trees lining the path as a distraction.

You’re already a bit behind time for your liking, so your pace quickens, now speed walking towards the centre of the small town that called itself ‘South Ebott City.’ If it weren’t for the dread you feel each time you leave the comfort and safety of your home, you’d love to go to Ebott City directly. See the mountain for yourself and maybe learn more about monsterkind.

Maybe one day, you’ll stand at the base of Mount Ebott, staring up at its jagged cliffs, trying to picture how a whole civilization lived beneath it. The thought alone sends a thrill through you—but not today.

You reach a crossroad, steps slowing, then coming to a halt at the edge of the road.

‘ Left, right, no cars, cross. ’ You resume walking.

As you near the centre of the town, more people are buzzing around, muffled conversations reaching you through your earpods over the song that played. Buildings are set more tightly together and the pedestrian zone is lined with shops. You pass the occasional bench and flower decoration, the sun starts to peek out between the clouds, warming you up a bit. Good, you were starting to regret not wearing a proper jacket or at least a beanie. You live and you learn.

As your ‘adventure’ continues, you mouth along to the lyrics of Karma by AJR, not caring about how you might look. If anyone decides to be a judgemental asshole, they can shove it where the sun doesn't shine. It’s your life. You can do what you want as long as you’re not hurting anyone.

After a lot more walking, you finally approach the building you dread entering every time. It looms ahead, its washed-out pink walls looking sickly in the sunlight. It stands out like a sore thumb amidst the livelier town square, as unwelcoming as the memories tied to it. Next to it was something more pleasant: another bakery—just for sweets and cakes. The smell of something delicious hits your nose, making you debate if you have time, maybe you could grab something for yourself after you’re done here.

You check the time on your phone. About five more minutes until you have to head inside. Though, you like to be early, so you decide to head in now.

Gripping the hem of your hoodie, you stop at the door, fingers hovering over the handle. For a moment, you think about turning around, grabbing that sweet treat, walking back to the park, and pretending this place doesn’t exist. But you can’t. You sigh, push the door open and take one last look around.

As you glance at the glass door of the bakery next to you, something catches your eye. A shape, a figure… You blink, and it’s gone. Just your nerves again, you tell yourself. But the hairs on the back of your neck don’t settle.

Monday, October 15. 13:25

Shit, that was way too close. Sans presses himself further against the wall he shortcutted to, his back firmly against the rough exterior of the building next to the one you just went to enter. He had NOT expected you to turn around. Especially since you hadn’t turned around ONCE the whole time he’s been following you.

His soul thrums in his ribcage and the saccharine smell that clings to the air sticks to his nose in a way that makes his sockets twitch. Too sweet. It’s like the scent’s mocking him. Holding his breath, Sans waits for something to happen.

1… 2… 3… 4…

The sound of the door falling shut cuts the air.

5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10…

Nothing.

Just a car driving by and a bird flying overhead.

Sans lets a few more beats pass until he forcefully releases the breath, pushing himself off the wall. Relaxing slightly, Sans forces his shoulders down, though tension still buzzes beneath the surface. There is still the mystery of what the fuck this place is and your business here. Around the corner, he scans the area, his gaze darting to every potential clue. The building itself doesn't give anything away, not from where he is standing anyway. So he approaches, caution in his steps as he draws ever closer to the door you had just entered.

A sign next to the door finally gave him a hint as to what this place is.

“psychosocial service..?” he drawls out with a cocked brow, already reaching for his phone. ‘ Figures this dumb thing’s finally earning its keep.’

With a swipe of the stylus, it unlocks and he opens the browser, typing in the address of this place followed by the name of it.

Tapping the side of the phone with the pen, Sans’s eyelight flicks between the screen and the door, deciding to cross the road in case you’d come out just as quickly as before with the bakery.

The screen flashes, indicating it’s finished loading and he focuses on the results:

The Psychosocial Service provides mental health and social support to individuals facing various psychological or social challenges. Their services often include counselling, crisis intervention, and assistance with managing life stressors related to mental health, addiction, trauma, or personal hardship.

“mental health and trauma?” He huffs, a sharp edge to the sound. The words tug at something buried deep, but he pushes it aside, like always. Not his problem.

‘blah, blah, blah—mental health crap, counselling, trauma, addiction, blah.’ He skims the rest, his brow furrowing. None of it answers the real question: why the hell were YOU here?

He shoots another glance at the door, straining to catch even the faintest sound of footsteps. Not a damn thing. Still, his shoulders stay taut. 

‘ how long is this gonna take? ’

Monday, October 15. 14:42

Seconds turned to minutes. 5, 10, 15, 30.

It's been over an hour now since you disappeared into that building, and Sans has turned to pacing in front of it, cigarette between his teeth. He's checked for any other exits, but he has only found the one door connecting to the outside. He's even gone so far as to sneak a peek inside, only to be greeted by a narrow staircase and an elevator. Not much of use to him if he didn't know where exactly you went.

He passes by the door, biting down on the cigarette harder than ever. What's taking so long? What are you doing in there?

Another pass.

Did you catch on somehow and are now hiding from him? No, that can't be. Other than that one close call he's been laying low. Making sure to keep an appropriate distance at all times.

Another pass.

Or did he actually miss you coming back out somehow..? His steps falter for a moment before he shakes his head and resumes his pacing. Nah, he had the exit in his sights the entire time, so that is also impossible.

Another pass.

So what's keeping you in there? What are you doing? Why could he not just give it up and go home already? It's not like this matters! It shouldn't matter!

Growling, Sans turns on his heels, the pace of his impatient steps gradually getting more agitated as his mind begins to switch between reason and whatever this new feeling is that reared its ugly head. He flicked ash from his cigarette, the glowing ember crackling faintly in the quiet. His muttered curses mixed with the rhythmic click of his shoes against the pavement, a steady beat to his spiraling thoughts.

He needs to know.

He needs to know.

He needs to know.

Just then, when he turned to make another pass by that godforsaken door did something—or rather, someone collide with him.

“ay, watch it!” He grabs the person by the shoulders, ready to tear them a new one when he is met with wide eyes.

Your wide eyes.

Chapter Text

Monday, October 15. 14:45

Sans’ non-existent stomach dropped and leaped at the same time. It's you. And he's touching you. Warmth radiates from your soft, trembling form, seeping into his bones like fire—too close, too real. It prickles down his phalanges, making his grip falter, though he tightens it unconsciously, as if afraid to let go. He wasn’t used to this. He shouldn’t want this.

His tight grip causes you to snap from your frozen state. Blinking, your mouth opens, then closes, like a fish out of water. You’re searching for your words, your knuckles white from clutching your bag.

Eventually, you swallow and manage to force a few words, your voice small: “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…” Stars, that voice sounds like the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. There’s just something about it that makes him want to listen to you more.

What is wrong with him?

He finally yanks his hands away, waving them like he’s swatting at a bug. “yeah, beat it,” Sans grumbles.

You visibly deflate, searching his face briefly before muttering another apology and moving past him. He listens to your hurried footsteps growing distant, hearing them falter at one point before resuming.

Once they were barely audible, he finally turns around to look in the direction you disappeared to. Your silhouette is small in the distance before it fully leaves his sights. There’s a tug in his soul, an ache that begged him to keep following, but that moment—that touch—finally made him realize how careless he’d been. He’d followed you to a whole ass different town.

What the hell is wrong with him?

A breeze whirls around him as he stands there, frozen, fighting the urge to keep following you. Every instinct screamed to move, to close the distance, to hear your voice again. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He’d pushed it too far, let himself get too close. And if you caught him again, he wasn’t sure he could stomach the look in your eyes.

For the first time in a while, he’s at a loss. All he can do is stand there, staring in the direction you disappeared. His mind churns with questions. What were you thinking? You’d looked surprised—more than anything else—but that tremble… it wasn’t just surprise. Were you scared? And if so, was it of him or something else?

He grits his teeth. Did he blow his chance to get anything useful from you? How would he even approach you now?

…No. He’ll just have to be more careful in the future. For now, he’s letting it go, despite his soul screaming at him to keep going.

A sharp snap of magic crackles through the air, and in the blink of an eye, he’s back home. The sudden stillness feels jarring after the chase, and he lets out a long groan, collapsing onto the worn-out reddish couch in the living room. He kicks off his shoes with little care, dropping them to the floor, and props his feet up on the coffee table. His head falls back onto the headrest, his sockets staring blankly at the wooden ceiling.

But his mind refuses to quiet.

Your voice plays over again in his head—that soft, timid tone. The way you barely managed to meet his gaze. Something about it had been almost… cute.

His hand moves to his face, dragging down over his teeth with a frustrated grumble.

“what’s gotten into me?” he mutters, the words barely audible.

The sound of firm footsteps approaching snaps Sans out of his spiraling thoughts. He doesn’t bother looking away from the ceiling, even when the steps stop nearby. It’s only when he hears the sharp tapping of Papyrus’ heeled boots that he drags his eyelight down.

Sure enough, Boss is standing there, arms crossed and a scowl carved deep into his skull—just like always.

“what,” Sans grumbles, his tone flat. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with Papyrus’ crap right now, but ignoring him completely? That’s just asking for trouble.

“Where Have You Been?” Papyrus barks, fingers tapping impatiently against his arm. His sockets burn with that signature intensity—sharp enough to cut stone.

Sans sighs, still slouched on the couch, his gaze wandering back to the ceiling. “out.”

“Out?” Papyrus’ tone is incredulous, and Sans doesn’t need to look at him to imagine the raised brow bone. “You Have Been ‘Out’ Quite A Lot. Care To Explain Where Exactly This Out Is? And Look At Me When I’m Talking To You.”

Sans delays a little longer, his laziness now more calculated than natural. Eventually, with a groan, he sits up and meets Papyrus’ stern gaze. His mind scrambles for a plausible excuse—anything but ‘ I’ve been following a random human. ’

“been exploring,” he mumbles.

“Where?” Papyrus presses. Perfect. Just the question Sans didn’t want to hear. He scratches his skull as if in thought, finally throwing out the first thing that comes to mind.

“‘round ebott city. and the mountain.” The lie comes easily, rolling off his tongue like second nature. Papyrus narrows his sockets, scanning Sans with a scrutinizing gaze, before scoffing and uncrossing his arms.

“I Hope You’ve Been Looking For A Proper Job?”

Job. Right. That thing Papyrus has been nagging him about since they moved to the surface. He almost forgot. Boss has already snagged a gig at some human restaurant—impressing everyone with his culinary skills and unrelenting work ethic. Now, in addition to his Royal Guard duties, he’s playing chef.

“yeah, ‘m workin’ on it,” Sans mutters. A blatant lie. No way in hell is he going to work under humans.

Boss’ sockets narrow further, scrutinizing Sans like he’s a particularly annoying puzzle. A bead of magic sweat forms on Sans’ forehead, but he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he stares back lazily, his smirk firmly in place.

After what feels like an eternity, Papyrus sighs loudly, pinching the area between his sockets. He grumbles something under his breath before speaking again: “Sans, I Mean It. You Need A Job.”

“i said: ‘m workin’ on it,” Sans grits out, his tone a little sharper now.

“Just Like You Were ‘Working,’”—Papyrus makes exaggerated air quotes with his fingers—”When That Human Passed By You?”

Seriously? “it ain’t my fault they were so sneaky!”

“Excuses, Excuses!” Papyrus begins to pace, his boots clicking against the floor. Sans sinks deeper into the couch, already resigning himself to the incoming lecture. His eyelight follows Papyrus’ movements, a scowl fixed on his face.

“All I Ever Hear From You Is That You’re ‘Working On It’ Or That It ‘Wasn’t Your Fault.’ Take Some Responsibility For Once, Get Off Your Lazy Ass, And Finally Do Something Useful!” Papyrus halts, turning to face him directly. For just a second, something flickers across his expression—worry, maybe? But it’s gone just as fast, replaced by his usual scowl.

“I Only Mean Well,” he continues, his tone softening slightly before hardening again. “While I Can Pay The Rent For Our New Place With The Money From The Restaurant, There’s Still Other Expenses. It’s Bad Enough They Won’t Take Our Gold Anywhere—I Know That. But That Can’t Stop Us From Enjoying Our Hard-Earned Freedom.”

Papyrus leans in, his imposing frame towering over Sans. His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. “So I’ll Say It Again. Get A Job.”

The whole time, Sans had barely been listening. He doesn’t care about expenses or the new place. As nice as the surface is, there’s no way in hell he’s going to grovel under humans just to pay for it.

They kept monsters caged for centuries, and now they want to play nice? Yeah, no thanks.

Though, all this pestering is getting to Sans, so after another long staring contest, he swallows his pride and sighs. “i’ll try ta find one.”

Straightening his back, Boss sizes him up, this time with a hint of satisfaction gleaming in his sockets. “Good. I’ll Hold You To It.”

Monday, October 15. 14:45

Okay, rounding the corner and running into HIM was not on your list of things that could happen today. His body is firm, warm—which you did not expect from a skeleton—and he smells of cigarettes and… mustard? Also unexpected. You briefly wonder why. His eye shrinks, then expands, probably fighting the urge to yell at you. Does he recognise you? If he does, this might just be your chance to befriend him! Though, it is a bit of an awkward run in hehe…

His grip tightens, snapping you out of your hyperactive thoughts. His size, his closeness, the way he stares you down—it sends a chill through you. It made you feel small, and there is something else in that large, red eye of his that you can’t quite put a finger on. You feel your mouth open and close uselessly, the forced eye contact making your nerves spike, are you shaking? Since when?

When you finally find your voice again, it sounds way too small, mirroring how you feel next to this bulky monster. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going…” His eye flickers, hands tensing on your shoulders yet again as he stares at you for a bit longer. Is he just as awkward as you? Maybe he’s more shy than you first guessed?

That quickly gets shut down when he yanks his hands back, practically shoving you off him with force and telling you to ‘beat it’. Your shoulders slump as the weight of his dismissal sinks in. This isn’t how you want this to go. Should you apologise again? Try to say something else? But before your mind could make up what it wanted to do, your body already decided for you, going past him with another small ‘sorry’.

Great. Just great. What an amazing first impression you must have left. Now he’ll most likely only remember you as that weird woman who doesn’t watch where she’s going. Your steps falter, looking over your shoulder to see him still standing there, his back turned to you. A sharp exhale leaves you, no. Next time you see him will be different. No matter when you see him again, you’ll just have to… apologise again, tell him what you want and well, hope for the best.

That’s how you make friends, right? Awkward bump-ins and second chances.

You clench your fists, holding onto the flicker of courage that had sparked inside you. Yes, you could do this! It wouldn’t be easy, but it was worth trying.

Shortly after, your mind begins to wander again, like usual, going over what to do later, if the trains are going to be on time, the things that were talked about at your appointment… Though, that last thought lingered. Your consultant said something about a type of group therapy for people like you. Others who have difficulty leaving their homes and being around people. It would be a couple of days a week, a sort of club where you can do different activities like taking walks, arts and crafts, play board games or just talk. She said it even recently opened up for monsters who struggle with being around humans and vice versa. It all sounded pretty neat. Well, aside from the fact that you have to leave your house for it, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

She gave you some time to think about it—a week to be exact—before she arranges everything for you if you choose to go to that club. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, both from your hurried steps to catch the train, and the thought of this. Being around people after being holed up for so long? Leaving the safety of your home to hang out with strangers? Well, strangers in similar situations as you, but still strangers.

At that thought, you begin to spiral.

What would they think of you?

Would you fit in, or stick out like a sore thumb?
Would they understand your quirks and struggles—or would they judge every little thing you said?

You frown, stopping at a crossroad. If they’re in similar situations, they won’t judge, right? They’d all have their own issues and would probably not even pay much mind to all your little quirks and oddities… right? You really hope so.

Crossing the road, you sigh, the cool air hitting your face briefly distracts you from your thoughts. The muffled conversations, sounds of cars driving by and all that open space put you on edge yet again. It’s too unpredictable. Too dangerous. You just want to go home already…

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally reach the train station, and lucky you, the trains are on time for once! Not much longer before you’re back at home with your little sunshine—the purring ball of fluff that always knows how to make you smile—back in your safe space.

The familiar clatter of the train approaching echoes through the station. The air smells faintly of metal and damp concrete, a stark contrast to the crisp, open streets you just left behind.

As the train doors close behind you, you can’t help but wonder what he’d think about a club like that. Probably wouldn’t care, but maybe you’ll bring it up if you see him again. Just to see his reaction.

Thursday, October 19. 17:02

Sans is at it again: Cigarette between his teeth, sitting on the bench opposite that store you frequent, his leg bouncing impatiently. By now, he was pretty familiar with that routine of yours—or… lack of. You don’t do much—shop, stay home, and that one weird trip to South Ebott City. He still wonders what the fuck that was about. Still, it had the added bonus of getting to bump into you. He can still recall your scent and how your soft, warm body felt beneath his phalanges… and he'd be lying if he denied thinking about you even more after that moment—be it in a different way than he originally intended.

To say his mind had travelled to… not so PG thoughts after that would be more accurate. The memory of the way you looked up at him, wide eyed and in awe…

It does things to him he doesn't want to admit.

With a growl, Sans shakes his head, putting his focus back on the important task at hand: His research.

If you could even call it that anymore.

You are out a bit earlier than usual, but that doesn't matter—the time he spends waiting for you, Sans usually takes in the warmth of the setting sun, the sight of clouds overhead and the fresh, cool autumn air. That is one added bonus this whole ordeal has.

It should only be a few more minutes before you leave the store, then he'd follow you back home like the other time. That has become his routine. Aside from watching your house until the lights go off so he—

The door of the store slides open, and there you are, basket in hand. Sans leans forward, taking note of the smaller load this time. ‘ not as much, huh? ’ He exhales the last bit of smoke through his teeth, flicking the cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it beneath his shoe. The motion feels practiced, casual—right until he looks up and sees you staring straight at him.

Shit.

His soul jolts in his ribs. For a moment, he’s frozen, his sockets locked on yours. Do you know? Do you realize? The thought sends a jolt of panic through him. His leg, which had been bouncing moments ago, stills as he fights to suppress the rising wave of instinctive excuses. He should look away, play it cool—but he can’t. Your gaze has him pinned, and there’s no talking his way out of this.

You know.

“damnit.” He grumbles, preparing for the incoming confrontation when he sees that you're now approaching him. Though, the look on your face wasn't one of anger, or even fear. He couldn't quite figure out what you're feeling, but it sure as hell couldn't be positive.

You stop just out of arm’s reach, your basket clenched tightly in one hand. For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the faint rustle of autumn leaves. Then, you finally set your basket down and, with a hesitant little smile, say:

“Hello.”

That’s it. Just… hello.

‘ what tha hell? ’

“yeah?” Sans raises a brow bone, leaning back against the bench and crossing one leg over the other. His grin widens. ‘what’s goin’ through that pretty head of hers?’

“Uh…” You clear your throat, still just weirdly staring at him, your eyes shifting between his unlit socket and the red glow of the other. Then, your gaze falls to your groceries. Were you gonna ask for help or something? Hell no, he is not gonna—

“I want to ask you something. Or… some things . I know this is forward and all but I've never been able to talk to… uh… your kind? To a monster? I don't know, I'm not trying to be offensive, I'm just… I guess you could say curious? Eheheh…”

Wow that was… a lot. Your free hand comes up to scratch the side of your cheek as you give him a sheepish little smile. Sans narrows his sockets, his grin shifting ever so slightly. ‘what’s this now? she tryin’ to dig for info? find my weak spots?’ But there’s no malice in your tone, just an awkward honesty that catches him off guard.

‘ this could be interestin’... ’

“uh-huh? like what?” Your eyes follow his hand as he pulls out a cigarette, your expression shifting from curiosity to something else—something wide-eyed and almost… awestruck. Sans lights it with a flick of his finger, the faint glow casting shadows over his grin. He takes a slow drag, watching you swallow hard. He could practically hear the gears turning in your head.

After a long pause, you eventually manage to tear your eyes away from him, scanning the area.

“regret comin’ over here, toots?” Sans drawls, leaning back on the bench with a lazy smirk.

“Wh-What? No! No, no! It’s nothing like that!” You wave your hands frantically, your face flushing. “I just felt rude for staring… so, uh… about what it is—”

“actually, ‘m not really interested in playin’ twenty questions, sweetheart.” Sans cuts you off, tapping the ash from his cigarette. His grin widens slightly as he watches your reaction. ‘ let’s see how she handles rejection. ’

Your eyes widen, and you wave your hands again, more frantically this time. “I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to come off as rude, I-I—” You stop mid-sentence, sighing heavily as your hands fall to your sides. “I really am just curious. There aren’t many other monsters here, and I remember you smiled at me that time in the store and—”

You trail off, biting your lip. Sans raises a brow bone, suppressing the urge to laugh. The way you’re fumbling over your words is almost too good.

“and?” he presses, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“…and I wanted to apologize again for bumping into you the other day,” you mumble, your gaze dropping to the ground.

“that it, huh?” Sans exhales a stream of smoke in your direction, his sockets narrowing slightly as he studies you.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell, but you don’t back away. Instead, you nod tentatively, your hands fidgeting at your sides.

It’s almost endearing, seeing you like this. All awkward and shy.

‘ cute… ’ not that he’d ever admit that, even to himself. Nah, he’d rather chalk it up to the amusement of watching you squirm.

Silence fills the air again, and you grow more fidgety the longer it stretches. Your fingers press together rhythmically on one hand, while the other keeps brushing hair from your face, fighting against the wind.

Sans huffs in amusement, deciding to humor you. “alright then, toots, shoot.”

Your eyes light up, and a genuine smile spreads across your lips. His soul skips a beat. It’s strange—unnerving, even. Not unpleasant, just… unexpected. If he didn’t know any better, he might think he just fell—No. Nope. Absolutely not. He shoves the thought aside.

His eye follows you as you pick up the basket and move to sit down next to him, your body angled toward his. You place your hands in your lap, clenching and unclenching the fabric of your pants between your fingers.

“So…” You press your lips together, then chew briefly on your bottom lip. “Can I just ask whatever?”

“ye, go for it. ‘m curious now what got ya so worked up.” Sans takes another casual drag of his cigarette, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay, uh… well, the first thing would be your… abilities. I’ve only heard monsters have some, but never what kind.” You lean slightly closer, excitement shining in your eyes. “I want to know what abilities you have. Can you, like, fly? Go invisible? Telekinesis?”

Sans blinks. Fly? Invisibility? Hilarious. He barks out a laugh, the sound rough and deep. “ya got one thing right, toots. i got telekinesis.”

The words slip out before he can think better of it. Maybe it’s the way you’re watching him—with an almost childlike wonder—that makes him drop his guard. It’s been a while since anyone looked at him like that. Just him. Not the threat. Not the killer. Just… him.

“but not any monster can do that. we all got our own arsenal of ‘abilities,’ as ya call ‘em. some can manipulate fire, some can summon spears, others—” Sans focuses, his magic buzzing faintly in his marrow until he summons a single red bone in his hand. “—can summon bones.” He winks, twirling the bone skillfully between his fingers.

You gape, staring at the bone in absolute awe. “You… wow! But uh… You’re not allowed to do that here…” Your gaze flickers around nervously, likely checking for any onlookers.

Sans scoffs, letting the bone dissipate. “sweetheart, ‘m not a monster who plays by rules.”

“But… aren’t you scared you’ll get in trouble?”

“trouble? HA! i AM trouble.” His grin widens, sharp and dangerous. Your gaze drops, and you shrink back slightly, but he doesn’t miss the flicker of curiosity still lingering in your expression.

He leans back, tapping ash from his cigarette as his sockets narrow playfully. Yeah, this was turning out to be more fun than he’d expected.

Your brows tilt when your gaze meets his again. “Well, Mister Trouble, I don’t want you to get arrested because of me. So I’d rather you not show off any more, okay?”

That makes Sans pause, stopping his hand midway on the way to his mouth. Did… Did you just…? Why? Why do you care? Is this a trick?

“tsk, ya can’t tell me what ta do.” he grumbles, finishing his movement to take a long, agitated drag. The only one who gets to do that is Papyrus; and Sans doesn’t even listen to him half the time. From the corner of his sockets, he watches you tilt your head slightly, a mixture of confusion and worry etched into your features.

“I’m not trying to boss you around.” You state, your voice still carrying that hint of concern that just doesn’t sit right with Sans. This is your first proper conversation with him, why are you so set on not getting him into trouble? He replies with a dismissive hum, opting to glower at a random passerby who gives the pair a strange look. ‘ humans, ’ he scoffs.

“anythin’ else?” While he doesn’t want this interaction to be over just yet, he still thinks it’s best to move the topic along, back to your questions. Maybe he could even ask some himself? Find out more about you.

You immediately perk up again when Sans brings your inquiries back up. “Yes, actually, uh… I’d like to know…” Your eyes dart around and you chew on the inside of your bottom lip. “How… How was it? Living in that mountain for so long? How did you manage?” Fiddling with your hands, you’re barely able to meet his gaze. What, do you think this was a sore spot for him?

“ya really wanna hear it?” Sans angles his body towards yours, flicking the cigarette onto the pavement—adding to the other one’s he discarded—before pulling out a new one. All he got is a timid nod from you, but your eyes shine with a silent plea and curiosity. The sight makes his soul leap.

He wants you to look at him like that more.

“aight, buckle up, toots, cuz this is gonna be a loooong story.” Sans leans back, resting his arm across the bench with his trademark grin.

“so, underground life? let’s just say, it wasn’t exactly rainbows and sunshine. the king? a real piece o’ work. ruthless doesn’t even cut it.” He chuckles darkly, running a bony thumb over his teeth. “ya step outta line? ya disappear. simple as that.”

Your brows knit together, and Sans notices. He shrugs, flicking ash from his cigarette. “don’t look so shocked. that’s just how things worked, sweetheart. it was ‘kill or be killed.’”

“That’s… awful,” you murmur, your fingers tightening in your lap.

He waves you off with a scoff. “eh, you get used to it. or ya don’t, and you’re worm food. but me? i made it work. joined the royal guard. y’know, kept myself busy bustin’ heads and makin’ sure no one thought i was weak.” His grin widens, sharp and crooked. “cuz weak? that gets ya dead.”

You wince, but he powers on, ignoring it. “then there’s the royal scientist. alphys—big brain, no spine. she built the CORE. that thing was supposed ta keep us all alive, supply the whole underground with power. ‘course, it broke half the time. but when it worked?” He chuckles. “kept the lights on, even in the deepest, darkest holes.”

“Did you know her well?” you ask, leaning slightly closer.

Sans raises a brow bone, then shakes his head. “nah. never cared for science nerds. but her inventions? impressive, i’ll give her that.” He taps his temple with a finger, a faint spark of magic crackling. “helped me power up a trick or two myself.”

Your eyes widen, but before you can press further, he keeps going. “anyway, the war that got us stuck underground? ancient history. humans freaked out, shoved us in a hole, and threw away the key. but hey, no biggie, right?” His grin falters for a fraction of a second—a blink-and-you-miss-it crack in his armor.

You catch it, though. “You… must’ve hated it there.”

Sans freezes, the playful glint in his eye dimming slightly. He shifts his gaze to the cigarette between his fingers, watching the smoke curl into the air. “hate’s a strong word, toots. let’s just say… i didn’t love it.”

The silence lingers for a beat too long before he snaps back into his usual self, grinning again as if the moment never happened. “but hey, enough about me. what about you, huh? what’s a doll like you doin’ askin’ all these questions?” There’s gotta be more than just curiosity. ‘ c’mon, gimme something .’

You blink, clearly caught off guard by his sudden counter question. What, did you think he was just going to let you interrogate him? No, he wanted info himself. Mostly about you.

“Uh… what do you want to know? Wait—Actually, what’s your name? Mine’s [Y/N].” You lift your hand, offering it to him with an almost shy smile. He scoffs internally at the formality, already having your name committed to memory long before now.

He switches the cigarette into his left hand, reaching out with his right and putting his gloved hand into yours. It feels just like the other day, the sensation of your warmth seeping into his bones through the fabric… he almost doesn’t want to let go. “sans. sans the skeleton.” He gives your hand a brief squeeze before pulling back, just in case you start thinking he’s soft.

“Sans?” Stars, his name on your lips sounded magical. He wanted you to say it more, call out to him again and again—”So like the font? Comic Sans?” You almost sound giddy now. Sans narrows his sockets. Font? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was this some kinda joke?

His grin doesn’t falter, though. “comic sans? cute, sweetheart. ya gonna ask me to tell a joke next?” He lets the question hang, daring you to push your luck.

‘N-no! I didn’t mean it like that!’ You wave your hands in front of you, flustered. “There’s just a font that’s called that and I thought it was a fun connection… I’m sorry.”  Your gaze drops, and he catches the way your shoulders slump.

The apology grates on him more than it should. Why are you so quick to say sorry? He’s used to hearing it from desperate people, not someone who doesn’t owe him a damn thing. Probably not sincere, he thinks. Still, he shrugs, flicking ash onto the pavement.

“eh, heard worse things, toots. it’s better than bonehead.” His hand twitches slightly, wanting to ruffle your hair for some reason. Instead, he runs it over his skull, keeping his grin sharp. “but just so we’re clear, i ain’t a punchline.”

Thursday, October 19. 17:23

Great. In all of what—fifteen minutes?—you have already managed to put your foot in your mouth about three times. Why are conversations so difficult? ‘ I really hope he’s not too upset… ’

“I never meant it that way…” You state again, wanting to curl up and cry. What a great impression you’re making. It was going so well until it wasn’t, now really regretting that blurt out comment about the stupid font. Dumb brain. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Sans’ gravelly laughter pulls you out of your self deprecating thoughts, snapping your head in his direction as he full blown belly laughs all of a sudden. Gaping, you can only stare as he slaps his knee. Is he laughing because of you? Is he laughing at you?

He continues to laugh for a few more seconds, drawing the attention of a few passing people, making you shrink into the bench, wanting to hide away from the unwanted eyes on you. What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?

Sans finally calms down, wiping a tear from the corner of his socket, coughing and turning to face you. “ya should see the look on ya face, doll! do ya really think ‘m offended from just that?” He pauses, snorting again as he waves a dismissive hand, “it’s gonna take a lot more ta piss me off, toots, i got thick skin.” he winks, the playful glint you’re growing familiar with back in his eye.

The words did put you at ease a bit; Good, he’s not mad, but you can’t help but wonder why he found this situation so hilarious. Did you miss something?

“So… you’re not mad?” You give him a hopeful look.

“nah, sweetheart.” his grin sharpens at the edges, but it looks friendly enough. You offer him a small smile back, relief washing over you. He stares at you silently for a bit longer than you’re comfortable with, the look in his eye changing to something you can’t quite point. Is he really not upset? Or was he just saying that to be polite?

Shifting, you lean back a bit, creating a bit more distance between the two of you, hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. “So uhm…” you clear your throat, “back to your question: What do you want to know?”

His grin widens even more, how is that even possible? “oh, there’s a lot i wanna know ‘bout you, doll~” he purrs, sending a strange shiver through you and making your skin prickle. You couldn’t tell if it was his tone or the intensity of his grin that unsettled you.

Sans has been nice so far, a bit intense for your liking, but knowing from experience, you can be intense at times too; So who are you to judge?

Nodding with a somewhat tense smile, you give him the go ahead—it’s only fair since you already asked some questions.

“Sure, ask away!”

Chapter Text

Thursday, October 19. 17:25

Sans’ sockets gleamed with something unreadable as he leaned a little closer, a grin still plastered on his face. “oh, trust me, sweetheart... you’ll wish ya didn’t give me the green light.” He chuckles, and you laugh along awkwardly, unsure if he is serious or not. The way he closed the distance you so desperately created puts you on edge, but luckily, he backs away again, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

Part of you has been wondering how a skeleton could even smoke. Maybe he’s not a full skeleton, but there’s a body underneath those clothes? Your gaze moves over his form. The way his jacket rests on him indicates there is at least something under there, and judging by the bulkiness, he must be quite large.

Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed by the way he raises a brow, but ultimately decides against calling you out. Must be used to people looking at him like that…

“so,” Sans turns to face you, sizing you up as well, “what kinda life ya got up here? busy? quiet? …lonely?” Your eyes shoot up to meet his face, looking between his sockets before averting your gaze to look around at the scenery. It always helps you focus better.

“I’d say it’s pretty chill. I personally don’t do much… stay at home most of the time.” You state bluntly, not feeling the need to sugarcoat it. That is all you do for the most part, so no point in lying. Especially if he has follow-up questions.

Sans hums, "ya got anyone waitin’ for ya? like… family? friends?"

“I live by myself with my cat. Her name is Sunny! She is my everything and I do love her like family, so you could technically say she is waiting for me at home right now.” You giggle, smiling brightly at the thought of your little fluffball.

“As for friends, well there’s Arthur—who’s probably wondering why I’m not back yet. He knows I’m just out for a quick grocery run and I did tell him I’ll be right back—” As if on cue, the notification sound for a message from Arthur rings from your pocket, and you suppress your usual tick by pressing your lips together with a hum.

“It’s like he can smell when I’m talking about him…” You utter under your breath, pulling out your phone and unlocking it, missing how Sans is intently looking at the screen as well. You type out a quick ‘ I’m still out ’ opting to tell him all about this spontaneous meet up with Sans later.

Locking the phone, you shove it back into your pocket unceremoniously, “Sorry about that, he worries easily. Now where was I?” You tap the corner of your mouth with your pointer, furrowing your brows. Damnit.

“this arthur guy… he at your place right now?” Sans inquires, his tone casual but the way his grin falters—just for a second—tells a different story. He takes another drag from the coffin nail; Gods, you’re glad you got rid of that habit.

“No, no. He doesn’t live here. We met online, but I have to say, he’s one of my closest friends, if not the closest. Then there’s Emily. I don’t see her as often as I’d like but we’re pretty close, too.” You offer him a smile that went unrequited. Did you say something wrong again? Is this not what he asked?

Sans nods slowly, his grin shifting into something tighter. “huh… guess it’s good ta have people ya can count on. though... seems like ya don’t see ‘em much, huh?”

Your shoulders slump; He sure is right about that. “Yeah, I see Arthur maybe once a year and Emily just every blue moon. But they’re still always there when I need them.” You sit straight, hands fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, kneading the soft fabric in your fists.

Sans tilts his head, the glow in his sockets dimming slightly. “sounds like sunny’s got ya all ta herself, huh? lucky cat. but ya ever get tired of just talkin’ to a furball?” He smirks, but his gaze lingers on you, as if waiting for something deeper.

You shake your head, “Not really, no. Well, not always. I still spend almost every day with Arthur online, meaning we talk a lot, so I’m not that dependent on socialising with a cat.” You force a chuckle, but it comes out hollow, and there’s a hint of sadness that you can’t quite hide. Sure, talking to Arthur kept you sane in a way, but sometimes you still wished you had someone who could actually be there.

You glance at Sans, his grin still plastered on his face, though it feels less intimidating now. Maybe it’s just nice to have someone here, someone real. It’s been a while since you felt this... present. The thought makes your chest ache, though you’re not sure why.

Sans lets the silence hang for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette. “yeah… guess havin’ someone right there makes all the difference.” His voice is quieter now, almost like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

You sigh deeply, nodding in agreement. This is another reason as to why you wanted to get to know Sans. Not just because he is a monster, but because he seems like he’s around a lot. “Do you… live nearby?” The question falls from your mouth before you can stop it, still not meeting his gaze.

You hear the fabric of his jacket rustle as he adjusts himself, feeling his presence loom over you. “not ‘round here, no. i live in ebott city with my bro.”

Ebott City? “Oh… I’ve never been in Ebott City directly before.” You try to mask your disappointment—That’s pretty far from here. And here you thought you might have a chance at a friend who lives close, if he even wants to be friends in the first place.

“eh, ‘s nothin’ special anyway.” Sans shrugs, finally flicking the cigarette to the pavement. Your gaze follows it, taking note of the small pile of buds at his feet. Did he smoke them all?

“Is that why you’re here most of the time?” For a split second, you swear you could see him tense, but just as quickly as it happened, it was gone. Maybe you’re just over analyzing things again.

His grin doesn’t falter, but there’s something about the way he shrugs that feels almost too casual. “basically. don’ like the bustle of the large city; bit too much for my likin’.”

“I can agree with that. I can’t handle cities well either; All the noise, the people, the cars…” You trail off, enjoying the small bits you have in common. Seems like you got back into the flow after your little faux pas with the name.

Sans snorts, “yeah, cars are cool ‘n all, but i don’ fancy havin’ to watch my metaphorical ass every time I wanna cross a street.” He takes a moment to look around, his eye turning up to watch the clouds. You follow his gaze, tilting your head up to the sky. The clouds drift lazily, painted against the orange-blue canvas like a scene from a storybook. For a moment, you wonder how surreal this must be for Sans. After everything he’s been through, locked underground for who knows how long, what does he feel seeing this? Does he ever feel free?

"how do humans get by without magic? seems like a hassle." Sans asks suddenly, his head tilting slightly, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You didn’t notice that he was once again looking at you directly. Lowering your head with a small groan, you face him as well with a raised brow.

“I… don’t really know, to be honest. I guess we just… figure things out as we go? I’ve never thought about it much since I don’t have a comparison. Maybe we just adapt. It’s not like we have another option.” You pause, your lips quirking into a faint smile. “We do have things that might seem magical, like the internet, but most of it is just... life. It’s not exactly exciting, at least for me.”

Sans snorts, his grin curling into something sly. “sounds pretty borin’ ta me. no offense or anythin’,” he adds with a lazy shrug, his sockets flicking toward the sky. “but ya gotta have somethin’ that gets ya through it, right? what kinda stuff makes ya happy? gotta have somethin’, don’t ya?”

You perk up at the question, eyes shining with new intensity. This. THIS is something you can answer properly. “Well, for starters, there’s Sunny! Like I said, she’s my everything. She helps me through so much—not just with loneliness, but just... everything. It’s like she can sense when I’m sad. She always comes over, purring and curling up to me. She’s honestly the sweetest little thing!” You ramble, the words spilling out in one breath.

“And then there’s video games,” you continue, barely pausing. “They’re a good way to kill time. I usually play Minecraft with Arthur, but lately I’ve been obsessed with Red Dead Redemption 2. It’s a story game about cowboys where—coincidentally—you play as a guy named Arthur. My Arthur wouldn’t stop bragging when he found out! Hell, he even does this ridiculous old-timey western accent sometimes. It’s hilarious, except when… it’s not really… appropriate…” You trail off, the realization hitting you like a wave.

Sans is staring at you, one brow bone raised, his usual grin quirking slightly at the corner. You feel your stomach drop. Oh no. You rambled. Again. And he probably has no idea what half of that even meant. You cringe, sighing as your gaze drops to your hands. “Sorry about that… I got carried away.”

But instead of the annoyance or disinterest you’re bracing for, Sans looks almost... amused. His is eyelight wide as he stares at you with an intensity you’re not used to—not even from someone as intense as Sans. You really want to know what he’s thinking right now…

“nah, don’ sweat it,” he finally says, his voice as casual as ever but with a trace of warmth. “sounds like ya got a lotta things keepin’ ya busy. ‘s kinda nice ta see ya light up about somethin’.” He pauses, tapping a bony finger against his chin. “but i gotta ask... does this arthur guy actually talk like that all the time, or only when he’s tryin’ ta rope cattle?”

It suddenly feels like a weight lifted off your shoulders; the way he indulged in your rambling instead of berating you makes your chest feel lighter, your shoulders easing as his teasing grin lingers.

You chuckle at his comment, waving a dismissive hand. “I wish. It does get annoying at times... but that’s just Arthur for you. He lives to get on my nerves.”

“and ya just let him?” Sans cocks a brow, fishing another cigarette from his jacket and lighting it with his fingertips. The faint breeze does little to disperse the growing scent of smoke, and you shift in your seat, trying to ignore the pressure building behind your eyes.

“Well, I don’t really have a choice. He just does it anyway, no matter what I say. And it’s harmless stuff, so yeah... I just let him.” You shrug.

Sans huffs, his grin twitching at the edges. “heh, sounds like ya’d be dog food where i come from... do ya ever, ya know, get tired of bein’ nice? not sayin’ ya should, just wonderin’.”

The question makes you pause, his sharp tone catching you off guard. You hum softly, pressing your thumb to your chin and rubbing your lip with your pointer. How to answer this?

“Well... it’s just something that comes naturally,” you finally reply, shrugging as you lower your hand. “My personal rule is: as long as you’re nice to me, I’m nice to you.” A crooked grin tugs at your lips, and you glance at him, realizing just how cheesy that sounded.

A flash of something—mischief?—flickers through his eye, and his grin sharpens, teeth gleaming faintly in the dimming light. “so if i weren’t nice to ya, ya’d be a big ol meanie?”

You snort, shaking your head. “No. If you weren’t nice, I just wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“fair ‘nuff.” Sans takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales it, the smoke whirling around the two of you. Should you ask him to stop? It is getting harder and harder to ignore the growing discomfort from all this. The bench is uncomfortable, the wind keeps pushing your hair into your face, the constant stares of passing people. Add the smell of smoke stinging in your nose and you have a perfect cocktail for overstimulation. Maybe it was time to head home…

But there are still some things you’d like to talk about. You still haven’t brought up the therapy club, maybe he’d be interested? Plus, you want his number, if he even has a phone. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with who at least was here most of the time…

“By the way, Sans,” you turn to him, wringing your hands together. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I’ve been offered to go to a sort of club for people who struggle with leaving their homes and such… help them make connections again. It recently opened up to monsters too, helping them adapt to having humans around and vice versa.” You know you sound dumb and like you’re trying to advertise something, but it is worth a shot.

“why are ya tellin’ me this?” Sans knits his brow bones together, looking at you like you’re from another planet.

“I… Well, I was planning on giving it a shot. I know we don’t know each other, but I think it would be nice seeing at least one familiar face there. And who knows, maybe it’ll help you, too.” You offer him a hopeful smile, internally begging him to at least consider. It would be so nice to have him around… to get to know him better.

Sans’ brows furrow further. Great, you messed up again… “help me with what, exactly?”

“I-I don’t know! I thought it might be nice… I’m not forcing you or anything.” You sigh, resigning yourself to the idea that he wasn’t interested.

He leans back, narrowing his sockets slightly, his grin thinning. "don’ know what kinda vibe i’m givin’ off, but... why me? got plenty o’ humans ya could drag along."

You flinch at his tone, your smile faltering. “I just thought... you might want to meet others, y’know? But it’s okay if you’re not interested.” You glance away, fighting the urge to fidget more.

There’s a long, tense pause. Sans takes another drag of his cigarette, twirling it lazily between his phalanges. The smoke dances in the air, swirling and dissipating before reaching you, but the sharp scent still pricks your nose. He doesn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on you with unnerving intensity. Is this your cue to leave? Did you push too hard? …does he hate you now?

You shift your weight, ready to stand up and cut your losses, when he finally speaks.

“sounds like a whole lotta... people,” he mutters, his voice low and deliberate. “not really my thing. but if you’re goin’... guess i could think ‘bout it.”

You blink, unsure you heard him right. But then it sinks in, and a wide grin spreads across your face, bright and uncontrollable. “Really? That’s great!” you blurt, nearly bouncing in place. “I have an appointment next week to discuss everything with my consultant. I could let you know how to get in by then!”

The words tumble out so fast you barely register your own excitement until you’re practically vibrating. You can’t suppress the little stim of shaking your fists in front of your chest, and for once, you don’t try.

Sans watches you, his smirk quirking at the corners. “heh… didn’t know it’d excite ya this much,” he drawls, his tone light, but there’s something lurking behind those words. That sharp glint in his crimson eye burns brighter for a moment, sending a shiver down your spine. Should that gaze make you uncomfortable? Maybe... but right now, you’re too happy to dwell on it.

“I-It does!” you admit with a laugh, lowering your hands. “I think it’ll be good for both of us.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head, but doesn’t argue.

Now for the last step. You shift nervously, wringing your hands together. “Can I... can I have your number? So I can tell you all about it when I get the information?”

He freezes, his sockets narrowing slightly as he stares at you. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped again, but then his smirk returns—sharper than before, almost predatory.

“my… number?” He repeats, dragging the word out as if tasting it. Then, his smirk deepens, and he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “sure thing... sweetheart~.”

The way he says it sends a jolt through you, his tone dripping with something you can’t quite place. He fishes a pen out of his jacket and grabs your hand, scribbling a string of numbers on your palm with a flick of his wrist. His touch lingers a moment longer than necessary, the fabric of his gloved hand strangely warm against your skin.

“there. now ya got no excuse not ta keep me posted.” His grin widens, and that glint in his eye flickers again, almost possessively.

You stare at your hand, your heart racing as you process what just happened. “Thanks, Sans,” you manage to say, your voice a bit softer than before.

“don’t mention it,” he replies, leaning back and lighting his cigarette again with a snap of his fingers. “just don’t forget. i’ll be waitin’.”

Chapter Text

Thursday, October 19. 17:40

‘I’ll be waiting.’ The words echo in your head again, still unable to grasp that this happened. You were brave enough to ask for his number, and he actually gave it to you! Your heart hammers in your chest, excitement buzzing through your veins like you haven’t felt in quite a while.

The lapse in conversation doesn’t feel as tense anymore, the silence between you comfortable as the hum of the world around you fills the void of words. Sans exhales some smoke from his nasal cavity, the smell drifting over in your direction making your eyes water slightly. That’s when you’re reminded of all your senses running overdrive, the excitement having overshadowed the overstimulation briefly.

The bench beneath you feels rougher than before, the wood biting into your legs. The chatter of passersby is like an uneven rhythm in your ears, and the faint thrum of footsteps makes the ground seem alive beneath your feet. You clutch the hem of your hoodie tighter, wishing the world would quiet down. It’s time to head home.

“Well, Sans, it was really nice talking to you, but I should go home. I’m getting a bit antsy if I’m honest.” You shift in your seat, ready to get up.

“antsy? what, am i makin’ ya nervous or somethin’?” His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something in his gaze—an edge that makes you wonder if he’s joking or testing you. And for the first time since you sat down, you actually see his smile falter slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching down for a split second before his near permanent grin is back on his face—albeit more tense.

Your eyes widen slightly and you shake your head quickly, “No, no. Not you! It’s everything else.” Your hands fidget with the fabric in your grasp, wringing it together like you’re trying to squeeze the life out of it.

“everythin’, huh?” He echoes, humming in thought. “well, i guess i can let ya off the hook for now. but don't cha forget ‘bout textin’ me.” he adds with a wink, but there’s something unreadable in his grin as the smoke curls lazily around him.

You give him a determined nod, eyes shining with purpose. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”

Thursday, October 19. 17:43

With a small wave in his direction, you walk away, a slight bounce in your steps, basket swinging with each movement. Sans’ eye follows you intently, watching your form disappear into the distance. He still can’t believe what just happened. You talked to him. And not just that, you asked for his number.

The whole time his soul beat wildly in his chest, the sight and feeling of you so close, oh so close to him sent his mind spiraling pleasantly. But somehow, it isn’t enough. Something inside him wished this lasted longer, wished you hadn’t left so soon, wished he could have reached out, felt something solid to ground himself in this whirlwind of emotion.

He doesn’t understand this feeling, this tug that once again pulled on his soul, screaming at him to follow, to touch, to claim .

It unsettles him, and he places a hand on his ribs right where his soul rests. It thrums under his ribs, a deep, aching pulse that almost knocks the air out of him. It’s not pain exactly, but something sharper—an emptiness he can’t ignore. ‘ what the hell is this…? ’ His hand clutches down on the fabric of his pullover, growling in frustration at the unfamiliar sensation in his chest. All he knows is that he wants more. More of your presence, more of your ramblings, more of the way you fidget, more of you .

Sans takes another long drag of his cigarette to calm his nerves, inhaling nearly the whole thing in one go before tossing it to the pavement and aggressively stubbing it out with his shoe. By now, you should be almost home, and he wants so badly to follow you and watch, but after this, he isn’t sure if this is such a good idea. If you catch him in front of your house after having just seen him near the store, it surely will raise some questions.

So he remains, taking deep breaths to offset his aching soul, this painful need inside him growing stronger. You were so damn cute. Everything about you is just mesmerising; From the way you fidget, to the way you can’t hold eye contact and then that little outburst. The way your eyes lit up when you talked so freely all of a sudden…

He wants more of that.

He wants more of you.

Thursday, October 19. 17:50

The door opens and you can already hear the eager meows from Sunny greeting you. “Hi baby!” You coo with a high pitched voice, watching as she flops to the ground, showing you her fluffy belly.

You close the door with a chuckle, locking it once before stepping over her carefully. “Sorry I took so long, I met someone interesting!” The basket thumps against the table as you set it down, rolling your shoulders once the load is finally off you. It isn’t nearly as much as usual, just a few small things, but still, the sensation of carrying it makes your body stiff.

Raising your hand, you pull out your phone with the other, looking at the string of numbers Sans has jotted down on your palm. His handwriting is messy, and you need a moment to decipher if that’s a three or an eight. Maybe you should have asked him before you left…

Still, you punch the numbers into your phone, create a new contact named ‘Sans the Skeleton’ and look at it with a smile. You did it. You really did it.

…should you send him a text? Would that come off as needy? But you have to make sure you got his number right. Maybe you’ll wait a bit and do it once you’ve settled. Yeah, that would be better.

Or would it? He never said anything about texting casually, just about the club. What if he’s not okay with it? You don’t want to push your luck any further than you already did. Though, he seemed to be okay with you just walking up to him and talking like that, so… maybe he would be okay with texting for other purposes?

You stand there in the kitchen, staring at the contact, fingers rubbing the side of your phone. “Sunny, what do you think?” you ask the furball, who just jumped onto the table, giving her an affectionate pat on her back before letting her nuzzle your hand.

Pressing your lips together, you sigh. “Yeah, maybe it’s better I wait. At least a day or two.”

You nod, convincing yourself it’s the right choice. But as you place the phone on the counter, a small bit of doubt lingers in your chest. What if waiting too long makes him think you’re not interested? No, that’s stupid. You came to him in the first place! There’s no way he could think that…

Gritting your teeth with a groan, you start to unpack your groceries. Why do things always have to be so damn difficult? Your mind is going over all the things you could have done differently, like holding back on the comment with his name, or actually asking about texting him.

Frustration now overshadows all previous excitement, and it shows in the way you’re almost slamming the bought items onto the table, Sunny getting spooked by the sudden loud thump echoing through your small, cluttered kitchen.

“Oops, sorry about that…” You frown, watching her hop off the table and onto the cardboard mat you got her for scratching. The sound of her claws digging into it grates on your already overworked psyche, and your brows furrow, but you quickly compose yourself. No need for getting mad at her, she’s just a cat, she doesn’t know…

Finishing with the groceries didn’t take long, but still too long for your liking. You just want to get changed already and finally have a moment of peace. But you still need to wash your hands and put away the basket… “Ugh.” You groan, suppressing the urge to run your dirty hand over your face.

The soft patter of Sunny’s paws follows you to the bathroom, where you wash your hands in your usual fashion, then dry them thoroughly. Now just to get changed and you can finally have a moment to yourself.

Thursday, October 19. 18:22

With an exhausted huff, you flop down into your chair, dressed in sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. Pc already on, you navigate to discord, deciding to finally let Arthur know that you’ve arrived back home.

The chat is once again at the very top of all your contacts, having just messaged him before you left. You try to tune out the click of the mouse as much as you can, the sound being unusually loud in your ears right now, making you almost flinch. Same with the keyboard, the clacking sounding sharp and thrumming in your ears uncomfortably.

You power through, sending a message to your friend: ‘Hey, I’m back. Sorry I took so long.’

It isn’t long before Arthur sends a message back: ‘No worries. Wanna talk?’ 

Not really no. But you kinda want to tell him everything about Sans so you don’t have much of a choice since you sure as hell are not going to type all that out.

‘Sure.’ You send back, and he calls you a few seconds later.

“Hey, Arthur.” You greet as you pull your microphone towards you.

“Howdy, ma’am!” His chipper voice reaches your ears through your headset, rolling your eyes at the accent he put on.

You don’t really want to deal with all that right now, with everything still just calming down and your nerves not having settled yet. But again, you decide to power through in favor of telling him all about Sans.

“What took ya so long?” The question rings out just as you open a tab with YouTube for some background noise. Great, you didn’t even have to prompt it.

“Well, when I left the store I saw that skeleton again, and decided to shoot my shot.” You state, puffing out your chest a bit.

“You did WHAT?” Arthur blurts out, “Don’t tell me ya talked to him just like that!”

Slumping forward, you frown at his icon, “I did. He was actually very nice, for your information.”

“Did he do anything weird?” There was clear worry in his tone that made you raise a brow. Did he think just because Sans was a monster that he was violent or something?

“What, no! What do you even mean by that?!” Seriously, Arthur has chill. “His name is Sans, and thanks to him, I found out a lot about life was in that mountain.”

You hear him grumble something, “Well, that’s just fantastic— wait, did you say Sans? Like Comic Sans?” he laughs.

Cringing, you reply, tension clear in your voice: “I thought the same, but he didn’t really appreciate me saying that. Thought I called him a joke…” you sigh. The memory still makes your stomach twist. Maybe if you’d kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have come off as so clueless.

“Well, is he?” Arthur quips, and you can already imagine his shit eating grin.

“ No , he very much is not. You need to stop being so biased. Like I said: He was very nice. A bit intense, but nice.” Finally finding a playlist to your liking, you click play and listen to the first song—Mother Mother - Burning pile.

“Biased? Me ? Darlin’, I’m just tryna look out for ya.” There he goes again with that damned accent… And what does he mean ‘look out for you’? There’s nothing to look out for!

“I can handle myself well, thank you very much.” You cross your arms, glaring at the icon as it flashes green with his cut off laughter. Why this is so funny to him, you don’t know.

His laughter dies down with a sigh, before he speaks up again: “I’m not being biased, okay? I’ve read enough to know that some of these monsters… they’re not all sunshine and rainbows,” he argues, his tone losing its playful edge.

There he goes again. You lean back in your chair, rubbing at your temple as Arthur rambles on. The tension in your shoulders refuses to ease, even with the steady rhythm of the music filling your ears.

“Yeah yeah, I get it.” You groan, feeling a headache coming on. Just what you needed… “But that’s just like every other person, too. You can’t just assume that because of what happened that they’re all like this. Sure, he might look rough on the outside, but again: He was very nice!”

“You repeating it a third time, doesn’t make me wanna believe it any more.” He sighs, the sound coming over the headset with a slight staticy ting to it, making you worry momentarily if your headphones are breaking, or his mic. “I know you’re trusting, that’s just in your nature, but not everyone has good intentions—monster or not.”

“I know that!” You bark, “I have enough of you trying to coddle me like a clueless child! I’m an adult , for fucks sake! I know what I’m doing! Or are you just jealous that I might have another friend other than you now?!” The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, but in your already agitated haze you barely even register just what you just insinuated.

Arthur goes silent, and all you do is sit there, breathing heavily while clenching and unclenching your fists.

“...well maybe I am a little.” He finally admits, the hint of hurt not going past you. “But I’m seriously just trying to look out for ya. Is that really so bad of me?”

The weight of his words hits you, guilt creeping in. But the irritation bubbling in your chest is louder, drowning out the apology forming in your throat. You don’t need him looking out for you.

“Well maybe I don’t want you to!” And with that, you hang up.

You stare at the disconnected call, the silence in the room suddenly deafening; Even the soft hum of your playlist does little to break it. Your vision blurs as hot tears build, stinging your eyes with every shaky breath. You press your palms into your knees, willing the tears away, but it’s no use. They spill over, warm and unwelcome.

Why did you have to lash out like that? You knew you weren’t in the right headspace to talk, but you did it anyway. And now? Now you’ve gone and ruined everything. Again.

Are you trying to break some kind of record as the most inconsiderate person today? You pull your legs up onto the chair, curling into yourself. A sob escapes your lips, muffled by the fabric of your pants.

Stupid.

So, so stupid.

Friday, October 20. 14:32

Arthur hasn’t talked to you since yesterday, and you can’t blame him; You were a complete ass. You know he means well. You know he does. But all that worrying and talking about ‘looking out for you’ the whole time is getting on your nerves. It makes you feel incompetent. And you don’t want to be seen as such.

Why can’t he just be happy for you for once? Proud that you managed to jump over your shadow and actually try to make another friend. He knows how lonely you get when he’s at work. He knows how hard it is for you to leave your home by yourself. He knows all that, and yet, he still doesn’t support this idea at least a little just because Sans is a monster? Just because of what the internet says about them?

You sigh, rolling over in your bed, not having found the energy—or will—to get up for anything other than pissing and feeding Sunny. There was no point.

Arthur should be on his way home by now, if he’s not already home. But not a single message was exchanged today and you’re starting to think you really blew it this time.

He probably hates you now. Or maybe he doesn’t, but you wouldn’t blame him if he did.

You stare at your phone, the screen mocking you with its silence. Should you text him? Apologize? Or would that just make things worse?

Shaking your head, you tap on his contact before closing the chat again immediately. What could you even say that would make up for how you acted? But surely silence isn’t the answer either… Damn it all.

As you lay there, heavy hearted and hurt, another thought crosses your mind: You could text Sans. Not about this, but just in general—see if his number is correct. Would now be a good time? You don’t know what he does all day—work or freetime—so you don’t know if you’ll be bothering him…

…well, best way to find out is just to do it.

Friday, October 20. 14:47

The sound of his phone going off in his jacket pulls Sans from his thoughts, tapping ash from the cigarette between his phalanges. He’s once again in the park in front of your house, watching for every change and hoping for a glance of you walking past your window.

Grumbling, he pulls the device from his pocket, thinking it’s Papyrus, who either wants him home, or something else that he would rather not deal with right now. Though, when he sees a text from an unsaved number, he raises a brow bone. Probably just another scammer…

He is just about to delete it and move on when his eye actually skims the first few words of the message, making his soul jump and he quickly opens it.

“Hey, this is [Y/N]!
I hope I’m not bothering
you. Just wanted to see
if I typed the number
correctly.”

He reads the message again, a grin spreading across his face. It’s almost funny—how just a few words could send his soul into overdrive. It’s not like he hadn’t been waiting for this, though. Hoping for it. Worrying that he’d scared you off somehow.

But there was that nagging voice in the back of his skull. What if this was just… polite? A courtesy text? He shakes the thought away. No point in ruining this for himself.

The bench creaks slightly as he shifts his weight, his gaze flicking to your window again. He knows it’s stupid to hang around here, but something about this spot makes him feel closer to you. And now, with the text resting in his palm even more so.

He raises the dreaded stylus and starts to painfully slowly type out a reply:

“hey sweetheart—”

Delete. Too forward.

“hey yes this is sans
already missin me i see?”

Delete. Too cocky.

He taps the screen with more force than necessary, muttering under his breath. ‘ what the hell’s wrong with me?’ Words were never his thing. Magic, fists—those were his languages. But here he was, sweating over a stupid text like some lovestruck idiot.

He tries once more, the stylus moving slowly from letter to letter. ‘ would be so much easier just usin’ my fingers… ’

“yeah ya got it right
and ya aint botherin me”

There. Good enough. He hits send before he can change his mind a third time, staring at the screen as if somehow willing a reply into existence.

A bird flies overhead, a single chirp breaking the silence that settled around him. Not many people visit this park around this time. Better for Sans; He does not want to deal with any more screaming kids pointing at him like he’s an attraction for their entertainment. Or with the adults sending him judgemental looks just for existing. He’s just sitting here, minding his own damn business!

He sighs, ready to take another drag of his cigarette only to notice it had burned out without him. He flicks it to the ground with a roll of his eyelight and immediately fishes out another from inside his jacket.

The habit annoyed people, sure, but he didn’t care. Or at least, he usually didn’t.

You’d gotten quiet when he lit up yesterday, your eyes darting to the smoke like it might bite you. But you didn’t say anything. Didn’t tell him to stop.

Too polite for your own good.

It grates on him, the way you put everyone else first—even him. People like you didn’t survive in his world. Kindness wasn’t a virtue; it was a liability. A weakness.

Or at least, that’s what he used to think.

Because here he is, sitting in some crappy park, worrying about whether you’d eaten today. Wondering if you were okay. And he hates it—hates how much he cares.

But he couldn’t stop.

His phone buzzes in his hand, vibrating against his gloved phalanges as the sound hits his non-existent ears. Another message—hopefully from you.

He shoots another quick glance towards your window before looking down at the device in his hand. Lo and behold, a text from you! His grin widens, you answered! ‘ that was fast… ’ His soul thumps in his ribcage, the excitement making his fingers twitch. ‘ calm the fuck down, it’s just a text. ’

He takes a steadying breath, dragging on the cigarette as if the nicotine might ground him.

He opens the message.

“Good! I was worried since
you never said anything about
casual texting. Is it okay if we
just message normally too?
Not just about the club?”

The club. Right. That dumb idea you pitched yesterday that he somehow agreed to. He couldn’t even remember why—it felt so stupid now. But this? Casual texting? That was a different story.

You wanted to talk to him. Just him. The thought made his soul flicker with warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He fumbles with the stylus, struggling to hold both it and the cigarette in one hand, then decides to put the latter between his teeth. The smoke dances around him, a small breeze wiping it away making it disappear into nothing as he types out another painfully slow reply.

“sure thing sweetheart
ya can text me whenever”

Satisfied, he hits send, the message flying into the void.

‘ wonder what kinda things she’d wanna talk ‘bout… ’ Sans leans back, spreading his legs apart to get more comfortable on the worn, wooden bench pressing against his coccyx. He doesn’t bother with putting the phone back into his pocket, having a feeling he might need it again soon enough.

Minutes tick by. Silence.

His leg starts bouncing, his grip on the cigarette growing tighter. Smoke drifts lazily around him, but he doesn’t notice. His thoughts are elsewhere, spiraling. ‘ was that it? did i screw up? or maybe she was just bein’ polite, and now she’s done. ’

The memory of your curiosity yesterday flashes in his mind. The way you peppered him with questions, eager to know more about him, his life in the underground. He’d never had anyone look at him like that before—not with fear or pity, but genuine interest.

And now, you’re quiet. Too quiet.

A chill ran down his spine, his eye darting back to your window. It was still. Silent. No sign of you looking out. But the thought alone—that you could’ve seen him sitting here, waiting like some damn lost dog—made his soul twist painfully.

He clenched his fists, shaking his head. Stupid. Stupid! How could he let himself get so careless? So… attached?

His chest tightened again, the pressure threatening to crack something deep inside. You weren’t important. You weren’t! Just a random human who couldn’t even say no to him.

So why did the thought of scaring you off feel like losing something he didn’t even know he had?

Sans groans, letting his head fall back against the bench as his sockets shut tight. "Haven’t felt this shitty in a while," he mutters, but the words tasted bitter. And somehow, deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.

Footsteps to his left broke through his spiraling thoughts, dragging his focus back to the world around him. He opened one socket, glancing toward the approaching sound. Walking slowly, a lone human teen was making their way down the path. They look tense, eyes flicking between the pavement and Sans. Once they’re near him, though, their steps speed up and they rush past him before slowing down again.

“damn humans…” Sans growls, sitting up straighter. His sockets narrow as he watches the kid hurry off, their silhouette shrinking into the distance. His hand swipes over his face, fingertips brushing the edge of his skull as he tries to rein in the magic buzzing beneath his bones.

The faint glow of red magic flickers at the edge of his vision. A quick glance down reveals the damage—small bits of fur on his jacket had turned to ash, the remnants dissolving into the breeze. He hisses under his breath, pulling his hands into fists until the magic snuffed out.

‘ can’t keep losin’ control like this… ’

He flicks the spent cigarette to the pile at his feet and stands, straightening his jacket. The familiar tug of magic gathers in his core, ready to shortcut home, when the vibration of his phone breaks the silence.

The device buzzes in his pocket, and he snatches it up without thinking, movements sharper than he intended. His sockets narrow as he stares at the screen, the tension in his bones melting the moment he saw the name.

You.

Sans can’t deny that his soul jumped for joy at the sight, but he tries to keep a more composed outlook now. He had overreacted before, let his emotions get the better of him, which is dangerous. Can’t have that.

Shaking the oncoming spiral of thoughts off, he pulls out the stylus and taps the text.

“Yay! I’m glad.
So how are you?
Doing anything
interesting?”

Sans stares at the words for a long moment, his grin pulling wider despite himself. You wanted to know how he is. What he’s doing. The realization sends a thrill through his chest, but it also brings a weight of hesitation.

What the hell is he supposed to say?

Chapter Text

Friday, October 20. 15:07

Staring at the screen, Sans just stands there, the rustling of dead leaves on the ground carried softly by the breeze through the otherwise calm park. But the cold doesn’t bother him. What does bother him however, was those damned questions you asked.

How is he doing? And for the what, he can’t just tell you the truth! Lying won’t get him anywhere either, if you decide to check the window for whatever reason and see him here, he’s fucked…

Groaning, Sans’ eye is pulled back to your apartment, the tug in his soul telling him to stay. But he knows better, and it seems you’re not doing anything today, so it’s not really worth watching. With one last, longing look at the window, he gathers his magic, and in the blink of an eye, he’s back home. Back in his room.

The darkness of his cramped place contrasts harshly with the open space of the park, and the smell hitting his senses is stale and reeks of dirty laundry and old smoke. Maybe he should really get to cleaning sometime. But not now. Or tomorrow. Next week for sure.

He kicks aside some of his familiar mess, making his way towards the mattress he calls his bed while shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the pile of clothes in the corner. With a huff, he sits down, kicking off his shoes carelessly before letting himself fall onto the dirty sheets. The smell of old cigarette smoke and mustard hits his senses, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s not like anyone else is staying here.

For a long while, he just lays there, sprawled out and staring at the wooden ceiling of his room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. But the question of how he’s doing keeps coming back to the surface.

He never had to think about that before, usually just giving the default ‘ i’m fine ’ response if anyone cared enough to ask. But right now, he doesn’t really feel fine. He feels like he’s run Papyrus’ training course five times over, with Boss tossing bone attacks at him left and right. But he can’t just tell you that. What if you’d want to know the reason for it too? He can’t just tell you that you’re the reason now, can he?

Sighing, Sans puts an arm over his sockets, raising his other hand to levitate his phone from his jacket into his hand, the magic buzzing through his marrow. Once the device settles, he grips it tightly and pulls it to his face, removing the arm. He takes the attached stylus and unlocks it, then navigates to the chat with you.

A small smile spreads across his features, his golden tooth faintly glinting in the bit of light from the screen. The sight of your name in his contacts fills him with a strangely high amount of pride. He’s got direct access to you now, and all he has to do is play along and stay calm.

‘ calm… yeah. ’ Sans takes a deep breath and exhales it with a loud sigh, willing his bones to relax into the worn mattress. There’s absolutely no need for all of this. Things have worked out so far, it can only get better from here.

Tapping the stylus against the side of his phone, he looks at the ceiling again, raking his mind for an answer that he could present you with.

After a couple of minutes and a few scrapped drafts, he finally manages to send a message:

“im doin good
just in bed”

Vague, yes, but better than his other attempts. It seems to have done the trick, though, because you replied almost instantly.

“Same! Guess today
is just a good day to
laze around, huh?”

“you’re right ‘bout that, sweetheart.” Sans mumbles with a smile. While it is nice out and he would have preferred to stay closer to you, he’s still the most at ease in his room, in the Underground. Especially now that Papyrus spends more time in their new apartment than in their actual home. It’s nice, it’s quiet.

Though, he can’t help but let his mind drift a little. How would it be if you were here? Would you judge him for his mess? Be disgusted? Or would you look past it just to spend time with him? The last thought makes his soul feel that strange, warm sensation again, and he places his hand on his sternum. It buzzes in his ribs, a bit faster than usual. Is he getting sick maybe?

Another message from you pulled him out of his thoughts.

“So… got anything planned
for today or just vibing?”

"vibing?" Sans mutters, frowning at the screen. What the hell's that supposed to mean? His brow knits tighter as he taps out a reply.

“if ya mean if
im gonna get outta bed
today then no
not unless my bro needs
somethin”

Hesitating, he glances around the messy room again before sending the message. His phalanges thrum against the back of the phone. It’s only been a couple of seconds, but it feels like an eternity, with time stretching the longer it took you to answer.

One whole minute passed, still nothing. Did you lose interest already? Or are you struggling to find something to say just like him?

Sans sighs his sockets drifting shut, his mind on you and only on you. You said you’re in bed… what are you wearing? Some comfortable pajamas, underwear?

Or nothing at all?

The image of you sprawled beneath him flashes through his mind, quick and hot. He clenches his jaw, forcing the thought away. What the hell was that? Has it really been that long since he had a good fuck, that even a random human sounded appealing? It is already bad enough that this isn’t the first time these thoughts came to him.

No, this isn’t just about sex. It’s deeper, messier. He doesn’t just want your body—he wants you.

Groaning, he turns onto his side, eyes opening lazily. He stares at the screen, your messages, and that strange tug in his soul surfaces yet again, that strange sensation pulling him closer to you.

That longing for you.

Why haven’t you messaged him back yet?

Friday, October 20. 15:15

Chewing on your bottom lip, you’re still staring at the message Sans has sent. He’s got nothing to do today either, would it be too soon to ask him to meet? On one hand, having a chance to get to know him better does sound lovely, but on the other, you might come off too needy too soon.

With a sigh, you open the chat with Arthur. What you wouldn’t give to talk to him about this, ask for his opinion. But you know it already: he’d probably advise you against meeting Sans again. Plus, coming out of nowhere after a fight and pretending nothing is wrong also isn’t an option. You’d have to apologise first.

You tap the side of your phone, eyes flicking through the room.

Lamp. Poster. Pillows. Plushies.

When your gaze meets the screen again, your breath hitches;

He’s online! Arthur is online!

A faint smile tugs at your lips, maybe he’ll message you first? Spare you further embarrassment and act like usual?

Your stomach drops when he goes offline again. Darnit.

A few minutes go by as you just stare at the chat with Arthur, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Just… say something. Type it out. Why is this so hard?

‘Because he doesn’t like you anymore.’ The thought hits like a punch to the gut. You frown, hard enough it hurts. No, he wouldn’t throw away ten years of friendship over this, right? You’ve been through worse.

‘ But what if this was the last straw?’ You bite your bottom lip. Right. What if he’s finally had enough of your bullshit and decided to abandon you?

The screen dims and you quickly tap it awake again. Still offline.

‘ He’s just at work, maybe he doesn’t have time to message yet. ’ You tell yourself, closing the chat.

Once he’s home, you’ll message him. Apologise and hope he doesn’t hate your guts.

Nodding to yourself, you sit up, the blanket pooling in your lap. The sudden movement startled Sunny, who, until now, was snoozing at your feet. “Whoops, sorry baby.” You coo, stretching your hand out towards her.

She stares at you for a moment before making a ‘brrp’ noise and getting up to nuzzle against your fingers. You scratch her head, behind her ears and her chin while she starts purring loudly.

“At least you won’t ever leave me, right?” You ask her, knowing that she doesn’t understand you. Though, for a brief moment, she stops and just looks at you. Almost like she knew.

Smiling, you give her one last pet before nudging her out of the way so you could get up. The cooler air of the room hits your exposed legs and you shudder at the feeling. You forgot to close the window again…

You stretch, sitting at the edge of the bed, phone still in hand. Your gaze moves to the ceiling, maybe Sans knows what to do? You wanted to leave him out of this, but right now, you just want—

Music breaks your train of thought as your phone goes off, startling you to the point of nearly dropping it. You fumble with it before looking at the screen. It’s your mother.

You immediately light up. She’ll know what to do! She knows Arthur as well, she can help you for sure.

So you pick up, your voice cracking slightly as you greet her. “Hello—,” you clear your throat, “Hi mom!”

“Hello Y/N! How are you feeling?” She sounds like her usual self, chipper and energetic.

“Not so good if I’m honest… I, uh, had a fight with Arthur yesterday.”  You play with your fingers.

“Oh no! What about?”

You sigh, “Well…” you hesitate. You forgot to consider what she might think about the whole Sans situation…

“Well?” She pries, her voice going up an octave at the end.

“It’s a long story. But the short version is, I met someone… special and Arthur doesn’t think he’s safe.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“I need a bit more information than that.” She sounded serious all of a sudden.

You cringe. “Okay so… that someone… is a monster. A skeleton to be precise. His name is Sans and I really want to be his friend but Arthur says monsters are dangerous.”

Silence again.

You hear her sigh. “Hmm… that doesn’t sound like Arthur at all. He’s usually more open than this.” That sounded more like she said it to herself. “Anyway, do you feel that Sans is unsafe? Has he threatened you in any way?”

“Of course not! He’s been really nice so far and I feel like we’re getting along well! I even got his number and everything.” You tell her, puffing out your chest slightly. Yeah, that’s still one hell of an achievement for you.

“I see.” Is all she says before she pauses again. You faintly hear her lighter on the other end, then her exhale—she just lit a cigarette. “Well, I trust my daughter makes good choices in people—or uhm… monsters . Maybe you just have to give Arthur some time? He’ll warm up to Sans eventually, I’m sure of it.”

Right…

“I’m not.” You blurt out. “You weren’t there, you didn’t hear how he sounded. He was really concerned—overly so I might add–-and just in general against the idea of me being friends with Sans. It was… really weird if I’m completely honest.” You finally get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen.

Your mother hums. “Again, I’m sure he’ll warm up to Sans eventually. Maybe once they meet he’ll see that Sans is not as bad as he thinks.”

You freeze, mid opening the fridge. Meet? They should meet? “...are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, yeah, Arthur’s visit is only about a week away but… seriously?”

“Seriously. It might be awkward at first, but I think it’s the only way they’ll really understand each other…”

“I’ll, uh… have to apologise first, though.” You frown as you pull out the carton of eggs and some sausage.

“Apologise for what? Having a new friend?” She laughs, then coughs.

Groaning, you roll your eyes. “No, mom. I miiight have yelled at him yesterday. Just a little bit.” You admit, shutting the fridge with your foot, then setting the collected items onto the counter.

You hear a truck driving by through the speaker, but your mother stays silent.

You let her think, instead prepping the pan for cooking.

“...you yelled at Arthur?” She finally said while you’re cracking an egg.

“Yes…”

“May I ask why?”

You grit your teeth, remembering the argument. “Okay so, I told him that I finally went up to Sans and got to know him a bit and Arthur went full on protector mode and told me about how ‘ UnSaFe’ and ‘DaNgErOuS’ monsters are and that I need to be careful and how he’s ‘just looking out for me’. I had enough about him babying me—like I can’t make a single decision without him—and just kinda… snapped.” You take a shaky breath. The words had come faster and faster, tumbling out before you could even think.

You hear your mother take a breath as well, coughing once more. Glass clinks against a surface, she must have taken a sip of something. After smacking her lips once, she says: “You do know that yelling doesn’t solve anything, right? Arthur is only looking out for you. Even I have to say that I’m a bit worried about you meeting a monster after everything I’ve seen about them on the news.”

She pauses, then hums. “But I also trust you, and if you say that this Sans guy is nice, then I believe you. Still, you need to see it from Arthurs point of view: You’re one of his only friends, and he already barely gets to see you. How do you think he’d feel if something were to happen to you?”

Now it’s your turn to pause. The sound of sizzling oil fills the silence as you stare at your sunny-side-up-eggs-to-be in the pan, watching the eggwhite start to brown at the edges.

She’s right. But you know that already. You overreacted, that is clear as day.

“I just… wish he didn’t act like I’m some helpless kid.” You stand your ground. “But I do want to apologise to him. I’m just scared that he might hate me now…” You trail off, flipping a sausage.

Your mother chuckles. “I highly doubt that. He might be a bit pissy, but I’m sure if you just tell him that you’re sorry, everything will be fine.”

‘ Everything will be fine… ’ You repeat in your head with a small nod.

“You’re right… I’m probably way overthinking this again and he’s just as scared as I am.” The thought of Arthur going through the same thing as you does bring you slight comfort, even if it’s just a possibility.

“There we go. Now, do tell me more about this Sans; I want to know everything.”

And so you do. You tell her about everything he had told you about monsters, how he used to live, everything you caught onto, how he looks, even that small detail that he smells faintly of mustard. You didn’t expect her to laugh that hard, but she did—wheezing so much you thought she’d drop the phone.

And for the first time that day, the tension in your chest finally starts to ease. Maybe everything really will be fine.

Friday, October 20. 16:12

“Yeah I love you too, mom. Bye!” You throw a few kisses at the phone so she could hear it before finally hitting the red ‘hang up’ button.

Silence.

You find yourself sitting back down on your kitchen table after having walked around your apartment a couple of times, like you usually do when on the phone. The dirty plate from ‘breakfast’ still hasn’t made its way into the sink, and you groan.

Why do even little things like this bring you so much trouble? It’s one damn plate. Just move it.

But all you can do is stare at it, replaying the conversation with your mother. Some things she said stuck with you—like the way she reacted to Sans. Even she seems to have some prejudices when it comes to monsters, and you began to wonder if you had any as well.

You frown, “They are kinda intimidating…” The admission came out like a murmur, leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth. But just remembering how absolutely massive Sans felt next to you, not just his mass, but his presence… You do kinda get where they’re coming from.

It won’t stop you, though. Not when you finally had the chance at making more friends. A chance to step out of your comfort zone and grab initiative.

Of all people to start with, why did it have to be a bulky skeleton with murder eyes?

Speaking of, you completely forgot! Fumbling for your phone again, you find it next to you on the table, rolling your eyes at your own blindness before taking the device into your hand.

Navigating to Sans’ chat, you see that he’s online, a small smile forming on your lips. You read over his last message again.

‘—not unless my bro needs something.’ You chuckle, relating to the feeling of not wanting to get up unless absolutely having to.

Your fingers are already flying over the keyboard with newfound vigor, the conversation with your mother really helping you clear your mind.

“Relatable. I kinda wanna
lay down again too, but
I get bored easily.
So no luck for me.”

You send back, finally picking up the plate and putting it into the sink. The rest is future you’s problem.

You check the time, Arthur should be home by now, if he didn’t go for a grocery run or something else came up. This is your chance, your resolve hardening as you walk into the living room, scanning it quickly for Sunny. She’s on the windowsill, you can see her silhouette through the curtains.

With a smile, you approach your computer and turn it on, the familiar hum of its electronics filling the calm silence of your home.

Once it’s on and running, you immediately navigate to the chat with Arthur. “You can do this.” you tell yourself, blinking once the chat opens.

To your absolute bewilderment, he’s offline.

Ooookay, small issue. No need to panic. Why would he have blocked you?

He’s most likely just out for groceries. That wouldn’t be too far-fetched. Or maybe he’s at his father’s? There has to be a reasonable explanation. Anything but what your mind is playing right now.

Your phone goes off, probably a message from Sans. But now, instead of the previous excitement the thought brought you, it felt like an added weight now. How could you just pretend everything is fine when your only friend of ten years isn’t the one messaging you?

Your fingers strum lightly over the keyboard, not pressing the buttons. You chew on your bottom lip until it stings, staring at the grey circle next to Arthur’s icon, silently begging it to change.

Damnit. What to do now?

Your only choice here is to wait. And you hate waiting. Especially in situations like this, you wanted this to be over with, wanted to have things be fine already. But no, the universe didn’t have mercy on you today.

With a long sigh, you force yourself to believe the idea that Arthur just wasn’t home yet, and didn’t block or unfriend you. It is hard, but what other choice do you have?

After another few minutes of just staring and overthinking, you hesitantly reach for your phone, curiosity over the new text from Sans taking over.

You unlock your phone without looking, your eyes still glued to Arthur’s icon as if it might just change if you so much as blinked. Tearing your gaze away, you look at your phone, opening the chat with Sans.

“theres a lot of things
ya can do in bed”

“Hmm.” You start to type back, glancing at your monitor from time to time.

“True. I like to watch
YouTube, read or play
something on my phone.
Still, it can only keep me
occupied for so long.”

It was difficult, trying to have a casual conversation while your mind was running a thousand miles an hour. You really wanted to ask him too, vent and get it out, and you briefly debated on calling your mother again.

But she’d most likely just say the same things as before—tell you what you already know, that Arthur was probably just out and about, and not at home, having blocked you out of his life.

You want to bang your head on the desk. Shit’s tough.

Friday, October 20. 19:20

Three hours. Three whole hours you’ve waited and for what? For Arthur to still be offline?

‘ Maybe he really did block me… ’ The thought comes and goes, leaving you empty and numb. Ten years of friendship… ending like this. Ouch.

You can’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes, stinging like your heart right now. It feels like someone put a knife straight through it, twisted it and ripped it out, leaving your chest wide open.

A choked sob escapes before you can stop it, the sound wet and ragged. Your shoulders tremble, curling in on themselves like you’re trying to disappear. Your bottom lip quivers and you reach for your phone.

One unread message from…

Arthur.

You must have missed it while wallowing in your own misery.

‘ Don’t get your hopes up… who knows, maybe it’s just a goodbye. ’

A message to tell you how horrible you are and how he regrets ever befriending you.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Despite the burning curiosity, you want to save yourself the pain from having actual confirmation on your thoughts, so you decide not to open his message for now.

Instead, you navigate back to the chat with Sans, not having gotten anything back from him either.

Great. Two people who lost interest in you. And so quickly too. Only took Sans not even a day to figure out that you’re not worth it.

How wonderful life is…

Cold. Quiet. Empty.

Just like you.

The rest of the day went by without another message, or Arthur coming online.

You decided to head to bed early, not knowing what to do with your time since nothing seemed to spark any joy at the moment. Not video games, not knitting, or any of your other hobbies. It all felt tedious more than a good way to entertain yourself. Just the thought of getting back up and sitting down in front of your PC causes your stomach to cramp up uncomfortably, and you turn over with a groan.

With your eyes closed, you go over what happened during the argument yet again, cringing at how unnecessary your outburst really was.

“What was I thinking…” you whisper, voice hollow. “ Of course he’d leave. ” You curl up around your favourite plushie, holding it close like a lifeline. The familiar, soft fabric soothes you just a little, your body relaxing slightly into the mattress of your bed.

While you don’t sleep for quite some time, it still beats staring at that stupid grey circle all night. After about an hour of doing nothing but replaying random scenarios in your head, you sigh.

The blanket’s too warm, the silence too loud. You shift, the springs in your mattress creaking faintly beneath you.

Bored.

You were completely and utterly bored, but still too down to do anything.

‘ What a life… ’ you think as you roll onto your back and stare at the white ceiling with half lidded eyes.

Hopefully things will get better tomorrow…