I can't even say "hOI" right now.
Don't ask why I keep making random one-shots now. I'm just bored and keep getting ideas - most of which will probably get me murdered.
Like I was with my other story, I'm sorry. ;w;
Sans didn't want to get up.
But he knew in his soul - he felt it in his bones - that Papyrus wanted him to get up and continue with his day. So Sans did just that.
He let out a trembling, tentative sigh and slowly swung his bony legs over the side of his bed. He hadn't even been sleeping. No, for the past few - days? Weeks? Months? He'd lost count by now - Sans has been cruelly subjected to the experience of sleeplessness. No matter how hard he tried to force his mind into the sweet and satisfactory state of drowsiness, the latter simply spat at his attempts with amused malignancy.
His skull throbbed mercilessly. Sans lifted a hand and hesitantly placed it on his forehead, where the pain persisted. The bone felt tender - it actually felt tender. He wasn't sure how that worked, but he had absolutely no interest in finding out.
Shutting his eyelids, he fumbled around his bed, patting the air in search of an object to grab hold of. Once his hand had found the said item, he opened one eye before hoisting himself up. He staggered forward. A dangerous sway in his step loomed ominously close, threatening to pulverize all sense of balance that lingered within him.
A wave of nausea plunged over him, drenching his skull in violent perspiration. "ah, shit," he grumbled, clutching his stomach. Along with the sick feeling came a sensation of deep-seated vertigo. Sans could barely stand up anymore. Eventually, when it became too much, he slowly collapsed onto the floor.
Rubbing his skull and letting out a colossal yawn, Sans decided to pick himself back up. He shuddered and dragged his feet towards his door. Quietly opening the door, a grin of perhaps unanticipated relief spread over his features. Sans stared at his brother's bedroom door, and softly said aloud: "i'll be there in a minute, paps."
He trudged silently down the stairs, careful not to make any noise. Once he'd arrived at the bottom, he plodded over to the kitchen.
He swung open the fridge door. As usual, a bowl of spaghetti sat there. He removed the container from the fridge and set it down on the table next to his malnourished pet rock.
Sans took a deep breath and ripped off the cover. As he'd expected, a foul smelling slime had coagulated on the rim of the bowl. If that wasn't enough, the noodles themselves were peppered with furry, green blotches. He bit down the vivid temptation to be sick - if skeletons could even do that - and carefully resealed the container.
As Sans picked up the bowl, the grin on his face spread. A song rang continuously in his head, playing over and over in a loop - like his own life, just much less hellish.
You are my sunshine.
Sans headed over to the front door before carefully pulling his coat hood over his skull. Grunting softly in satisfaction, he placed one hand on the doorknob and twisted while pushing simultaneously. A cool winter breeze whistled softly through the foliage overhead. He quickly stepped outside, his slippers making little dents in the snow.
My only sunshine.
The wind was deceptively strong. It slammed the door of Sans' house back into its original position, causing the inhabitant to wince. He didn't want to wake anyone up, nor draw attention to himself. He didn't notice that at least a dozen villagers were staring at him. But they knew better by now than to start a conversation with him.
You make me happy...
Sans trudged through the town, oblivious to the humdrum lives of the hoi polloi that often congregated in the icy streets. They didn't matter right now. They didn't matter at all anymore.
Sans was almost tempted to forget this and swing open the door to Grillby's. Maybe drink a little; drown his sorrows, all that crap. Anything to take his mind off the disastrous happenings that had come into existence in his recent life.
When skies are grey.
He shifted his gaze to the ceiling of the cavern they were in. He saw black, not grey. Whatever. Same difference, right? It wasn't even a sky. Who cared, though? In absolute reality, in the grand scheme of things, who actually cared?
He was now in Snowdin forest. He hadn't bothered taking a shortcut. He found no use for them anymore. He preferred... He preferred walking.
You'll never know, Paps...
Sans had by now begun to sing the words aloud. He was no singer, but they sounded better out loud. He chuckled weakly. The laugh was bleak and devoid of any humour, as it was almost every time since ... well, since that happened. Still looking down, he slipped through two trees and entered the darkness behind them.
How much I love you.
Just as his voice faltered, his soul clenched tightly at these words. He blinked back salty tears, but could not stop three streams of light blue liquid to drip down his skull.
Sans opened his eyes and knelt down at the large stone he'd chipped off the side of the cave and painstakingly carved himself. He set down the bowl in front of the slab.
His breath rattled as memories resurfaced and echoed numbly through his mind. One vivid recollection flashed painfully in front of his eyes. The memory of what was buried beneath.
A red scarf.
Please don't take ... my sunshine... away...