A/N: I regret eveything.

Frisk sighed as she lifted one of the dozen boxes at their feet. They shouldn't complain. To be honest, they had expected worse. Who knew their whole twenty years of existence could be sum up in less than twenty boxes?

"A problem, kiddo?" An amused voice said in their back.

Stunned, Frisk almost let the box slip from her hands and turned around to see who had spoken. A white-haired guy, comfortably bundled up in a snug blue parka, was staring at her with playful eyes. He couldn't be that much older than them but something on his face was making him look beyond his years. The shade of his eyes was so light, it appeared almost surreal.

"I'm just-", they stammered before remembering they didn't do anything wrong. "I'm just… moving in."

"Oh yeah, you're the new neighbour, right? You're at the same floor than me, the apartment has been empty for like, forever." Easily, the guy picked up a box and winked. "The name's Sans. I'll tell you what, you're a lucky little fella that you saw me at all, I usually nap most of the time at home and let Papyrus go outside to work or shop or generally make sure we don't die."

"Papyrus?" Frisk asked.

"Yeah, my little bro. A good kid, lets me crash for a while, I'm between jobs at the moment. To be honest, I think he likes having me around. Feels a bit like parental supervision and whatever he says, he likes being bossed around."

Frisks risked a side dubious look to the kind-voiced stranger. A few steps ahead of them, he was calmly waiting for them to catch up before going upstairs. It was hard to imagine that this aloof guy was an authority figure for anyone.

"You can let your stuff here and we'll pick it up later. Nobody ever steals anything around here."

Frisk hopped from one feet to another, uneasy. It wasn't that they didn't trust Sans, but they were so used to being on edge, attentive to any situation that could be used against them…

"Hey, don't look so scared." Without them noticing, Sans had come closer, frowning slightly. Apparently, he had taken note of their hesitation and misinterpreted it. "I know that… monster neighbourhoods have bad rep but one, there are not so many around here and two, -"

"No, no, it's not that." Frisk quickly disabused him. "It's just… I'm not used to having a trustworthy neighbourhood, I guess."

Sans seemed to scan them a few minutes, with these incredible eyes of him, before nodding and going upstairs again.

"Don't worry, kid. I know everyone in this building and if they mess with you," he turned, the veiled threat visible in his smile, "they'll have to answer to me."

Frisk shivered, already feeling sorry for anyone who would try and fight the blond boy.

They ended up on the third floor and Sans knocked a door. Someone swore and stepped rather loudly to the door which opened to reveal who Frisk guessed to be Sans' brother. They had the same out-of-this-world eyes, the same pale skin, but that was about it. Where Sans was short and snug, his brother was tall and gangly, his golden hair falling in streaks before his eyes. His bright red T-shirt was very adjusted – a bit too adjusted – emphasising his broad shoulders and revealing a band of pale stomach skin.

"Sans" the newcomer said, or rather, shouted with a cockney accent. "You lazy ass! I told you I would cook tonight, there was no need for this 'Chinese takeaway' non-sense! Anyway I called them to give them a description of you and tell them you were sent under cover to check their sanitary standards and trap them!"

"Well, that would explain why they threw me out of the restaurant with Chinese insults." Sans stated dryly. "Did you know we're having a new neighbour?"

"Of course I knew it, I told you at least ten times this week-"

"Yeah, I must have tuned it out after the third."

"- I sure hope they're nice, I do love nice neighbours. Hey! If they're coming today, we could eat spaghetti together!"

"What a wonderful idea. But wow! Would you look at that! The new neighbour is behind me!"

"Where? Where?" enthusiastically yelled Sans' brother. His eyes scanned the whole floor before stopping for the first time on Frisk's faintly alarmed face. A grin almost split his face.

"Hi! You must be the new neighbour! Sans told me about you!" He greeted them as if they had just appeared.

Sans winked and said: "Sorry kid, this is my brother Papyrus. Papyrus, this is- wait, I don't think I caught your name."

"What?! How could you forget to ask for her name! You rude-"

"Their name, actually." Interrupted Frisk. "And I am Frisk."

Instinctively, Frisk tensed their shoulders, waiting for the derision or incomprehension that usually followed the statement of their pronouns but none came. Instead, Papyrus' smile grew even bigger.

"Hello, Frisk, would you like to eat with us tonight? I'm making spaghetti."

"No, you're definitely not." Sans muttered under his breath.

"Hu… Yeah I'd love to." Frisk stuttered.

"Awesome." Said Papyrus before storming back inside his apartment.

Sans sighted.

"He didn't even stay long enough for me to ask to help with your boxes." He shook his head, but Frisk could see affection behind the show. "Well, no matter, I'll hold them myself."

"You don't have to-" Frisk started.

"Nah, don't worry. Paps was quite right, it was rude of me, not asking for your name. Consider this as a proper apology. Go rest, you will need it if Papyrus is cooking for us tonight. Mind you, it won't be spaghetti. I will find a way around it."

"Ok." Frisk said. They opened the door facing Sans' apartment and stopped. "And thank you."

Sans' face softened.

"Don't worry." He repeated. "We all know what it is to come with heavy luggage around here. But you're strong. You'll make it."

On this ominous words, he took off, leaving Frisk confused. They entered their studio and collapsed on the sofa. The flat was already furnished, which was a relief, and cosy. And now it was home. Their home.

They closed their eyes, smiling.

They woke up with no notion of how long they slept. For a second, they totally forgot where they were and started hyperventilating. But as they stared at the yellow flowery motif on the sofa, memories came slowly back. They forced themselves to breathe in and out. Dizzily standing up, they saw a post-it, apparently slipped under the door. They picked it up.

Stuff in front of your door. Nothing stolen. Join us when ready. xoxo

They smiled involuntary. Sans' handwriting was a bit goofy and round, a bit like him. When they opened their door, all their boxes were indeed there. They put them inside without even checking them. Somehow, they trusted Sans. They pondered of this new development: this had been a while since they had trusted anyone. But again, it had been a while since they had had a discussion with another being that didn't involve insults or jeering.

They closed their eyes as memories and grief waved on them.

'Look! The freak has finally decided to show up!'

Frisked sniffed and tried to make themselves small. It wasn't particularly hard but it was never enough for the others. The nearest boy grabbed a fistful of their hair. It hurt but they bit their lips, trying with all their might not to cry.

'Why don't you cut your hair if you don't want to be a girl, freak?'

'You think just because you're as flat as a board, it makes you a boy?' A shrill girl's voice asked. There were laughs. 'Freak!' the girl spat.

The hand in their hair twisted harder.

'Freak.' Agreed the boy. 'Is it true you went to an asylum because you wanted to die?' After a last twist, he finally let them go, tears in their eyes. 'Shame you didn't go through with it.'

Another boy cocked his head, mocking. 'Aw, is the little freak crying? You know real boys don't cry, right?'

'I never said I was a boy, I-'

'Shut up' lazily cut somebody else, punching them in the face.

They fell down, under the general cheers. Some mud went in their mouth.

Frisk closed their eyes. Once again, they just felt like a harmless thing, a harmless girl, in front of the other kids. 'What did I do to you?' they sobbed. Only more laughs answered them. 'What did I do to you? What did I-'

Frisk caught a breath they haven't realised they have been holding. They shook their head. Those were old memories, they shouldn't hurt that much. Except they did. They could almost still taste the mud of that day. It was as vivid as the first day. That was why they left.

It was a sound idea. Here, in the city, people were more tolerant, or at least, they allowed more eccentricities from the others. Frisk had not incurred any remarks since their arrival in the capital, only disapproving looks sometimes, but they could deal with those. They had had worst.

They looked absent-mindly at the clock. It was already seven. Just the time to shower and take on some new shorts and sweater. They could do it.

An hour later, they were knocking at Sans and Papyrus' door, with their favourite – and clean – stripped sweater on.

Papyrus opened, looking as hyper as before, his hair even more dishevelled.

"You wouldn't believe what happened!" he exclaimed, and without any other form of greeting, he shoved them inside.

Apparently, something had gone wrong with the oven at the exact moment when Papyrus tried to turn it on. Nothing dreadful, but in his attempts to set it right, Papyrus had only achieved to definitely break the oven.

"So no homemade spaghetti but Italian takeaway. Luckily, I'm not banned from this one." Sans explained cheerfully. "I don't know why you're sulking." He called Papyrus. "There are spaghettis in there too."

"This is not the point." Began Papyrus crossly before shutting up when his brother opened the takeaway boxes, letting a wonderful smell fill the kitchen.

"Bon appetite." Sans said, winking at Frisk. Frisk smiled.

All in all, it was a good diner. Frisk was starting to appreciate the dynamic between the two brothers and laughed a lot to Sans' (admittedly poor) puns of Sans and Papyrus' (hilarious disproportioned) reactions.

When they stood up to go, still laughing, when they saw Sans' soft smile, Papyrus' goofy grin, when he insisted that they should take several boxes of spaghetti – 'it's not as if I will be able to use them any time soon', Papyrus had rumbled, you could taste the salt and Frisk was sure they should have looked more compassionate but they had been on the verge of laughing because of Sans' innocent look -… Frisk had felt warm inside. A feeling long gone. Like a forgotten memory.

When they came back to their studio, still grinning, they couldn't put their finger on this curious feeling.

The days flew by. Frisk went into a sort of routine, going back and forth between their apartment, the university and the little library they found a job at. As Sans had told them on the first day, they rarely saw him outside his apartment during the first month. But they took the habit to spend an hour or so with him every two days. It was just polite at first, but soon, they became enthralled with Sans' witty comebacks and his quirky sense of humour. From his end, Sans was looking genuinely happy with the company. He wasn't showing it much but Frisk was getting better at decrypting his thoughts. It was almost as if the intangible defence wall Sans had been building around him was withdrawing progressively. He was smiling more, or more sincerely. Frisk couldn't say but they loved every minute of it and soon, the hour became hours.

Frisk tried not to see too much into it.

Papyrus, on the other hand, seemed everywhere every time. He was a student, like her, and juggling between a bunch of multiples small jobs, getting in turn fired and hired and fired again in a snap.

"He's actually terrible at most his jobs but his managers love him too much to hurt his feelings too long." Sans had declared one evening. "He's a great kid, though. Very determined, you see. Wants to be a chef. He studies very hard. He'll be the greatest one, one day."

'The great kid', for his part, seemed to have nothing but negative things to say about Sans.

"He always put his socks everywhere." He told Frisk resentfully one evening. "He's a great old slump. And he hates spaghetti and he always buys this dreadful brand of crisps with added fat. I told him not to but he still does it!"

Never a word about the apparent unemployment of his brother, though. Or an explanation about his clearly unrequired presence. As far as Frisk knew, he was spending his days napping in front of the telly, a plaid on his knees. But somehow, for Papyrus, this didn't seem to matter. The brothers were always bickering on one thing or another – Sans apparently greatly enjoying himself during the process – but they never argued about important stuff.

Except for tonight. Frisk was coming back late from the library and saw them in a the middle of a shouting argument on the corridor, the door of their flat wide open, both looking angry and for Sans' part, even a bit scared.

"What happened?' Frisk asked.

They stopped when they saw them and Sans turned his eyes away.

"Nothing." He gritted through his teeth.

"You can't say it's nothing!" Papyrus rounded on him angrily again.

"Okay, okay, it was… something. But it's not a huge d-"

"Don't you dare say it! Don't you say it's not a huge deal! It is and you know it! If you could just say something-"

"Papyrus, I said no."

Furious, Papyrus stormed in his flat, slamming the door shut behind him. With a sigh, Sans looked at Frisk.

"Can I crash on your sofa tonight?"

Once in their flat, Sans explained the whole story. Papyrus' cooking teacher, Chef Mettaton, had been fired from their restaurant without any further ado this same morning.

"But why?" asked Frisk, mystified. From what they had understood, Chef Mettaton was nothing short of a genius with a great reputation. Firing them with no reason was virtual suicide for the restaurant.

"You don't read the news? Mettaton has been outed as a closeted monster."

As a fact, Frisk had not heard about it but they were not surprised. Monsters in the closet were commonplace. Since the fall of the wall between the Surface and the Underworld, monsters have been technically given the right to live amongst humans. In reality, most of them were discriminated, stigmatized and had overall great difficulties to integrate human society. So they had found a parade. Using their magic, which constituted their very soul, they had created glamours to look like humans. For years, they have survived this way and this had not been forbidden, probably, the extreme 'humanist' parties whispered, because monsters had infiltrated the government.

Contrary to most humans who were defiant of monsters, Frisk tended to sympathise with them. For obvious reasons, they knew what it felt to be an outcast. That and the fact that the only people to treat them nicely back home had been monsters.

"They shouldn't have fired them." Frisk whispered.

"No." Sans echoed sadly. "They shouldn't have."

After a moment of silence, he sighed.

"Papyrus wants me to stand up. I used to do law school, see. But it is no use. I have lost most of my contacts a long time ago. I'm basically powerless. But Papyrus won't hear it."

Typical Papyrus. He had a sweet nature but when he wanted to help someone, it was very little use to try to stop him.

"Law school?" Frisk asked, sensing the need of Sans to change the subject.

"Yeah." He half-smiled. "Shocking, I know. But I was ambitious when I was younger. I wanted to change the world."

"What dissuaded you?" Frisk asked again, quietly enough for Sans to pretend he had not hear.

There was a silence before he answered: "Life." and rolled over to sleep.

The next morning, Sans and Papyrus were talking again, as if nothing had happened between them. Papyrus was occasionally looking at Sans with a concerned look, toying with his necklace but didn't say anything about the last night. Sans was his normal self but the nonchalant façade seemed more forced than usual for Frisk. But other than that, everything was going back in place.

Not exactly in place though. From this day, Sans was absent more often and seemed more preoccupied. Papyrus stayed vague about it when Frisk questioned him about it but he appeared to think it was a good thing.

"He had changed a lot, you know." He said one day. "He used to be very active, full of determination. These days, sometimes I feel like… I feel like it's a bit of his old him. Like he's hoping to make a change again. And I feel like it's thanks to you, Frisk."

"To me? But I haven't done any-"

"You stormed into his life and made him laugh again and talk and open up again and hell, even doing tricks again. You and your dreams and your yearning for a change and independence. You gave him something to care about."

Frisk didn't know what to answer. When the words came back to them, Papyrus had already left. An uneasy feeling seized them. They had the fishy feeling that Papyrus had told all of that partly to prevent them to ask where he was going. It was his off day.

Answers always come and often sooner that you would think. Why Frisk chose to come home early that night remains a mystery. Maybe on an unconscious level, they were still worried about Papyrus.

If they had come later, it would maybe have been too late. As it happened, they heard a sound while doing their digital code at the entrance the building, a small whimper from a nearby alley. They cautiously followed it and there, sitting and leaning on the wall, they recognised Papyrus' gangly silhouette.

Falling on their knees, they checked his vital signals. He seemed unconscious despite his moans and badly injured but there was surprisingly little blood. Fortunately, he was still breathing. Frisk called an ambulance and came back to examine their friend. Bruises and cuts were visible on every exposed skin. His face was in the shadows but when Frisk tried to inspect it, his hand jumped out to their wrist with surprising force.

"No… please."

"It's I, Papyrus." Frisk said reassuringly. "Frisk. I'm not hurting you."

"No, no. Please. Don't… don't look. They… I tried to rouse everyone to make them take Chef Mettaton back but some of them, they… well, they guessed I suppose. I… Please… They cornered me here and they… They broke it, I think… Please, don't, don't look at me. Sans would kill me."

"I have to check if you're hurt, Papyrus, let me-"

"No! I mean, yes, I am. I'm hurt. They wanted to… to hurt me. To make me suffer. I… I could have fight back I suppose, but I hoped… I hoped they would stop, I… Please. Don't look at me. Promise you won't, when the ambulance arrives, I guess you've called an ambulance, right? Even then, please. Don't look at me."

"Okay." Frisk said, anxious to calm him down. "Okay, I promise."

"Okay. Okay. Good."

The rest happened in a blur. The ambulance came, asked for Frisk's witnessing, and other questions that Frisk, for the life of them, couldn't remember. They didn't even remember going upstairs and coming in their flat. They just remembered opening the door to Sans.

Sans looked shaken and worse. They both spoke at the same time.

"I heard-"

"Is he-"

Confused, they stopped and Sans spoke again.

"I'm coming from the hospital. They called me. He'll be okay. He's not great but he'll be okay. It was a close thing but you… You saved him. If you had not been there, I… I…" He swallowed. "I might have lost him. I… Fuck. Thank you."

Without warning, he surged forward to hug Frisk. He was an incoherent mess, letting "Fuck" and "Thank you" escape him at regular interval. He was hugging Frisk tightly and after a moment of hesitation, they returned the gesture, squeezing him with all their might.

It's only when Sans let go and put his hand on their face that Frisk realised they were crying.

"Fuck." Said Sans again.

And without warning, he kissed them. His lips were hard and hungry and salty from the tears and a bit hasty and awkward.

Frisk thought it was the best kiss of their life.

They were kissing, and they were in the bed, and they were clawing at their clothes, hungry, desperate for each other. Frisk was trailing their hands in Sans' back when they saw the panic in his eyes.

"Fuck. No. I can't do that."

He was backtracking now, shouldering his T-shirt and almost running backward to the door.

"Fuck. I'm sorry."

He put his hand on the door handle.

"I'll explain tomorrow. Promise."

Of course, he didn't explain.

Answers always come and often sooner that you would think.

Sans had been avoiding Frisk for days and they were tired of it. On a happier note, Papyrus had come back and looked fine enough. Fine and sheepish.

"Thank you." He had said and there was a lot of unsaid weight in this thanks but Frisk let it go. They were tired of mysteries.

"You're welcome." They simply answered before leaving. They didn't even ask about Sans.

Answers always come. For Frisk, they came on a freezing December afternoon in the form of an angry-looking girl with shiny chestnut hair.

"I know he's here, Papyrus. Let me see him, you have nothing to do with this."

"He does not live here." Papyrus had always been the worst liar. "I don't know who told you-"

"Oh, come on, no one told me, I know him." The impatience was tangible in the lovely but vicious voice.

Frisk stepped up from the stairs. The girl heard her and looked at her with zero interest but Papyrus seemed, if anything, more panicky.

"Look, Chara, he's not here, he left, okay? So please, just-"

"Let her in, Paps." Pronounced Sans' tired voice. "She was bound to find out, one day or another."

Sans appeared at the door, only in a T-shirt for once, completed by dark shorts and his eternal slippers.

"Hi, Chara. Long time no see. Hi Frisk." He added when seeing them hesitating. "Please, all come in."

They all did in an unnatural silence. Chara broke it first.

"I finally found you."

"Yeah. You went to great lengths to… how did you say, Chara, already? 'Ruin your life and burn your heart into ashes', wasn't it?"

"Does she know?" Chara asked, pointing Frisk.

"What-"

"Does she?"

"No, they don't. But I don't-"

"Oh come on." Chara snapped. "I saw how you looked at her, or them, or whatever the hell they are. As I said your stupid brother, I know you. You used to look at me this way too."

The girl – Chara – turned to face Frisk. She was way more beautiful but a beauty that seemed more terrible in a way. And her stunning traits were deformed by spite and hatred.

"I'm Chara." She said. "Sans' ex-girlfriend. We knew each other since preschool. High-school sweethearts, can you believe it? So imagine my anger, my despair when I realised it has all been an illusion, a trick."

"It has never been anything of the sort-"

"Shut up!" Chara screamed. "You don't get to speak!"

"I said I was sorry I didn't tell you earlier but I was scared, Chara! Scared that you wouldn't…" Sans' voice broke a bit. "You wouldn't want a… a monster as boyfriend-"

"Damn right, I wouldn't!" She spat. She turned back to Frisk. "A monster! They made me fall in love with this… this beast. It broke me. Broke my heart." She was trembling. Of grief, indignation or anger, Frisk couldn't tell.

"Why are you here, Chara?" Sans just sounded exhausted. "Why coming here?"

"You said it yourself, Sans. Ruin your life and burn your heart into ashes." She paused. "I am going to out your brother as a monster."

"No!" said Sans suddenly.

"Ah, there is the reaction I was waiting for!" smiled Chara.

"He has nothing to do with this, he has a job, a future, you can't-"

"Of course, I can. And he has everything to do with this. Didn't you hear? Ruin your life and burn your heart into ashes. But your life is already ruined, isn't it? Promising law student dropping courses to run and hide at his little brother's flat. Comical, really. Your life was ruined the day I dumped you. Now that I think of it, your heart may have been broken too. But I couldn't be sure of that.

So I waited. I tracked you. It was hard. I knew you had a brother, but you never bothered telling me his name and yours wasn't registered. I finally found you. That was when you lost, even if you didn't know it. I knew you always poured your heart and your soul in that brother of yours."

"I won't let you do that." Sans was pale and between Chara and Papyrus. Chara just looked at him with pity.

"But it's too late. I already have everything. That brawl your brother got involved to, remember? Turned out his aggressors broke his glamour during the process. Not enough to completely destroy it but enough to reveal what he is. They took pictures and sent them to me. I just came to make you know. So you know for sure that it is me."

"Don't do it. Please."

"Think of it." Chara said, clearly enjoying herself. "A ruined life. All these efforts wasted. What a shame, really. How would it feel, knowing it is all your fault?"

"Please. I'd do anything. Please."

"Anything? Oh, now, that's interesting." Chara laughed. "Anything at all?"

"Yes." Sans said without any hesitation.

"I want you to reveal yourself. Completely. In front of me." Her eyes met Frisk's and she smiled. It was a beautiful smile. "And in front of them."

Sans hesitated. "If I do it, will you abandon everything you have against Papyrus?"

"For god's sake." She rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'll consider it."

Sans closed his eyes.

"Okay. Okay."

His hand closed around his necklace.

When he opened his eyes, he didn't look like Sans at all. His hair, his skin, everything was gone. The skeleton Sans had become lifted up his head and plant his dark orbits in Frisk's eyes. They shivered. They didn't know if it was the good kind of shiver.

Slowly, Chara clapped.

"A wonderful performance. Ah, truly, a good spending of my afternoon."

"Will you respect your word now?"

"Oh yeah that. Hum, okay, I'm reconsidering the idea of outing Papyrus and hm, yes, still on the table."

"What?!"

"Sans, dear, you weren't naïve enough to think that would change anything, right?" She seemed to grow pensive. "Or maybe you were. You always were kind of an idealist."

"Why did you-?"

"For the show, Sans. For the show. I wanted to make you pay. To ruin your life and burn your heart into ashes."

"But why? Why?"

Chara stayed silent for a while.

"I loved you once." She said eventually. "I do not forgive."

"I don't know who you loved, Chara. But it sure as hell wasn't me. You can't do what you're doing, enjoy it, and pretend you loved me."

Chara's flickered for an instant, so brief Frisk wasn't sure if they imagined it.

"Maybe you're right." Chara said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Maybe I just love destroying people."

Sans closed his eyes.

"Get out of my home."

Without adding anything else, Chara left swiftly, only letting her flowerly parfume in the room.

Sans let his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry." he eventually said, "I wanted to tell you but I… I didn't know how. I didn't have the courage either, I guess. I would understand if you want to leave too."

When the silence didn't break, he finally opened his eyes.

Frisk was staring at him, intensely. As if nothing else existed. Embarrassed, he turned his head and scratched the back of his head.

Frisk kept on staring. On the skeletal features, she started to recognize Sans' expression. It was still him, human, monster, a bit of both, a bit of none.

At the end, these specificities are just that: details which cannot hide who we are. Of course, it matters. We build ourselves around these specificities and definitions. But it is only a part of us. Society might only see them, judge us by them. But we are so much more.

Frisk took Sans' bony hand.

It felt like home.

END

A/N: It's 3 AM. And I hate myself.