He stared up at the blank ceiling, his eye sockets that were usually lit up by light blue pupils now overtaken by a dark void. The room was silent except for the slightly quick, sharp breaths that came from the skeleton's ribs. He looked to the left, then to the right.
Of course, he was still in his room.
There was no child with gleaming red eyes bearing a knife in front of him. No hall that echoed his deep voice and the kid's slow footsteps. No red, tattered scarf wrapped around his neck. Just very messy bed in a very dark and messy room. He sat up and trudged over to the door, going downstairs into the kitchen. His now-glowing pupils flicked over towards the clock. 4:37. He pulled out a white mug, his name poorly painted and slightly faded on the side, a few chips and cracks scattered throughout. A few steps over to the pantry he picked out a tea bag, then started boiling water on the stove. He chose his favourite, chamomile, and brought out the sugar and milk. He loved tea over other drinks, unlike Papyrus who enjoyed bitter yet somehow refreshing taste of black coffee...
He didn't understand how coffee was better than tea.
He yawned and poured the water in the cup, then placed the tea bag inside and allowed it to steep.
1 minute.
2 minutes.
3 minutes...
Good enough.
He pulled the bag by the string and tossed it in the trash. Or, tried, at least. It landed on the edge, but he just shrugged and dumped two spoonfuls of sugar in the now burgundy-tinted, Earl Grey flavoured water. He picked it up a took a sip, then teleported to the couch in the living room, the tea sloshing a little and spilling on his shirt. He tensed then sighed, deciding to wash the shirt later. Too lazy right now. He closed his eyes, taking another sip and patting the couch in search for the remote, wrapping his fingers around it once he felt the plastic rectangle. Speaking of rectangles, Mettaton most likely (probably) has some reruns of his most recent episodes playing about now...
~Timeskip to a little while later~
The small skeleton felt his eyelids (does he even really have those...?) growing heavier by the second. His body felt like it was being weighed down by Undyne's giant sword. Then suddenly a voice chimes from upstairs, the quick patter of footsteps along with it.
"Good morning, brother!" Papyrus' cheery, energetic voice bounced throughout the household...
At least someone's happy.