He ends up at Grillby's.
He's not exactly sure why, but the atmosphere is comforting and warm. It only serves to make his sadness grow.
Sitting in the same seat as usual, Sans watches the candles in the room flicker, the only source of heat to light up the bar. And as he gazes around, his memories blur with reality. He recalls Grillby wiping dishes in front of him, the buzzing of conversations filling the air, and the chattering of Papyrus next to him.
He almost smiles.
But he doesn't. Because there is no Grillby wiping dishes in front of him, no buzzing of conversations, no chattering of Papyrus next to him. Because they're all dead.
They're all gone.
Undyne, who-despite her unruly nature and ferocious cooking skills-was endearing and kind in her own way. Alphys, who was shy and thought the world hated her when really, she was a special, special friend. And Papyrus, his baby brother who wouldn't hurt a fly, his baby brother who would always chatter nonsense and loved spaghetti…
He wants them to come back. He wants to see their smiling faces, to have a happy ending. He wants and wants. But the world doesn't care about what he wants. It doesn't matter what he wants. And not for the first time, he thinks, there are no such things as happy endings.
He sighs and lays his head on the countertop.
It's cold.
The twinkling, joyful music of Snowdin can no longer be heard, replaced by the howling wind outside. And though he knows it's all in his mind, that Grillby isn't standing in front of him, that his fiery body isn't there to comfort the skeleton, he can't help but yearn to believe, to drown in his memories.
"Put it on the tab, Grillby."
He grips Papyrus' crimson scarf, the last remnant of Papyrus. Clutching it to his chest, and he closes his eyes, wishing that for once, he had the power to "Reset."
