Frisk hopped down the stairs, enjoying the sensation of rising, falling, and then coming back down hard, the feeling intriguing against their feet and the swirling sensation in their stomach a bit funny. But soon they were walking into the almost blinding white light. It sort of reminded them of a hospital, white and bright, but dusty...

The machine in the corner was the cause of that last description. It was broken, that was a given. Not that they understood how it was supposed to work, but they understood it was broken.

And then there were the drawers, and the blue prints they couldn't read sprawled out, as if they had just been abandoned one day. As if someone had just given up and didn't even have the energy to put it all away.

It was all the same it seemed, Frisk wasn't sure what they had expected, honestly. Just... It had been awhile since they'd been down here. It was almost new again, but also nostalgic. It was always reassuring to come back to something and find it right in its place. That everything could just stay the same...

But they were curious. They'd been thinking about the stuff in the drawers, about the people they hadn't recognized last time. They were curious that maybe after so long, after meeting other people, people they never met underground, maybe now it would be a bit different. And so... Frisk was opening the drawers. Frisk was flipping through the photo album.

But still... They didn't know any of these people. Their faces were complete mysteries. Except... Sans'. And they stared at his face, and there was a weird sensation in their stomach, kind of like falling... He really did seem happy in these photos.

But... Where had they gone? Why did they leave? Why was Sans no longer happy like that?

They flipped the pages but suddenly-

The paper slipped out and brushed against their fingers and at first they turned their head curiously. What was-

Frisk's eyes widened in horror, losing their breath as they flinched back, lifting their hand away as if the paper had burned them and their eyes stung. That-!

Back then, Frisk had been laying on their stomach in the middle of the living room, scribbling away, their tongue sticking out to the side as they pressed down the dark red crayon even more, determined to get it all right.

"heyya, kiddo." Sans had greeted upon entering the room. "whatcha up t-?"

"No!" Frisk had cried, lifting their head and an arm, indicating he needed to stop. "It's not done!" Sans had blinked but then had begun to back up.

"oookay then."

"No!" Frisk had called again and Sans had stopped. Go, stay, stay, go? What did the kid want from him?

Frisk had slunk back down, hurriedly finishing up as best they could.

"Here!" Frisk called as they'd jumped up, clutching the drawing to their chest and racing towards him. "I drew you something."

"drew me somethin', huh?" Frisk nodded. "well, whaddya got, picasso?" Frisk didn't quite understand that, but that didn't matter, he had wanted to see. They were turning the picture finally, half hiding their face with it.

"I drew you for you!" They admitted. "You, me, and Papyrus!"

And Sans had laughed. Genuinely laughed. Because their art work was pretty horrible and yet, he seemed super pleased as he had taken the picture from them.

"well what do ya know? it's us." Sans had repeated and he had put a hand on their head. "thanks kiddo, i'll hold on to it forever."

And Frisk had laughed, even as they hadn't actually believed him.

But... But there it was.

Sans. Papyrus... And Frisk.

The picture of three smiling people glared up at them and Frisk still couldn't breathe.

"Don't Forget." Someone had written across the top, Sans had written...

Don't forget... But who was the message for? Him. Or them.

He'd kept it.

He'd actually kept it.

Even through timelines he kept it... Their own mother hadn't... Had never... They'd...

Frisk was suddenly hugging the picture close against their chest again, and they just.. couldn't stop crying. And they stayed crying. Even as they trailed back up the steps. Even as they tumbled into Grillby's... Even as they stood next to his stool... Tears kept slipping down their face even as they watched him with wide eyes and soft, shuttering breath.

He barely looked over towards them past his shoulder, but he had seen the object clenched in their hands...

"guess it was all too much to ask for... wasn't it?" He asked sadly, taking a swig of ketchup as he looked away again.

Frisk stepped closer, silent words on their lips they couldn't say. They hesitated before slowly releasing the picture and wrapping their arms around him instead. But... He didn't turn to hug them back, he didn't even acknowledge they were there again. But even despite his very lack of insides, it, everything, was tearing him apart.

Because he couldn't help but love them and it made everything worse.

And when later that day, when everyone stepped into the sunlight, he was already waiting for the Reset.

Because even as they stood there, the picture safely tucked away again, to be kept and guarded, they could never tell him how sorry they are.

Because he can never forget... how they just couldn't let it all change. How they couldn't just stay away.

RESET