CHAPTER ONE - KETCHUP BETWEEN FRIENDS
Smoke filtered out from beneath a small door that connected the main reception to the kitchen. The owner of the restaurant, Grillby, stood idly by at the counter, washing a glass. Unless someone asked for an order, he seemed to always be cleaning the same cup.
The bell at the door chimed, a swirling gust of snow and wind sweeping through the room as someone entered. I kept my hand flat on the counter top, glancing to the empty seat on my right.
It had to be him. It was always him. Since the failure at the castle, he had spent a lot of time at Grillby's. Grillby's and Alphys's Lab.
I'd been effectively avoiding him for months. Ignoring his phone calls and texts right down to him knocking on my door in the Ruins. Not because I hated him—I could never hate him—but because I had failed, yet again, to break the Barrier to the Surface.
"Don't you know how to greet an old pal?" the newcomer drawled, swiveling the barstool with his bony hand. "Or are we not pals anymore?"
I swallowed thickly, folding my hands as I brought my gaze to the skeleton's. His white irises watched me steadily and I expected them to go black at any moment. To feel the rush of fear.
But that wasn't real. Those were just dreams.
"Hello Sans," I replied curtly. What was I supposed to say?
Sans slid up onto the barstool, his short legs not quite reaching the ground as he leaned onto the counter.
"Grillby, we'll have a double order of fries."
The tender nodded curtly, the flames of his head flickering as he sat the glass on the counter top before vanishing through the kitchen door.
"Something wrong, kiddo?" he asked, swiping the bottle of ketchup from its holder. "Or did you have no reason for avoiding me?"
Despite the grin splitting his face, I could hear the sorrowful tone to his words. I could see the slight pain in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, attempting to offer some form of familiar parlance. "I couldn't see you again after the last attempt failed. You or Papyrus."
"That's what this is about?" Sans replied, his voice dropping low as his eyes skimmed the room. "Listen, kid. You can't blame yourself for what's going on."
I folded my hands in my lap, squeezing them tightly together.
If only the failed barrier was the only reason. I couldn't tell him that I had been having dreams where I murdered him—I could only imagine what he would think.
"Sans, it's been so many years now," I whispered. "The others don't know but we do. I'm the reason we can't leave. Sans, if you would just—"
"No," he cut in sharply. "We are not discussing this again. You know that isn't an option."
I opened my mouth to let out a smart reply just as the kitchen door swung open. Grillby came through, a plate of fries in either hand as he approached us.
"This isn't over yet," I hissed.
"It was a long time ago, kid. A long time ago."
I let out a heavy sigh, slumping against the counter and muttering a thank you to Grillby as Sans popped open the lid on the ketchup bottle.
He lifted the bottle in offering and I smiled, the gesture a bit forced, as I slid my fries to him.
"Thanks but no," I replied. "I'd prefer to keep the ketchup off my clothes this time."
San's smile widened a bit, his brow bone rising before he lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
"Whatever suits you, kid." He winked. "Not like I have a bone to pick over ketchup."
I shifted in the stool, crossing my ankles. My heart pounded heavily in my chest as I tried to form words.
"What do...you mean?"
Our gazes locked, his expression flat and unreadable despite the smile on his face. I edge back a bit, brows knitting together.
"Nothing," he said after a moment. He rolled off the barstool smoothly, feet landing on the floor. "I was gonna say something, but I forgot."
He shrugged, headed toward the door. The other customers murmured their goodbyes as he passed them. A few even shot puns to the skeleton that he only half reciprocated.
I turned in the chair, one hand on the counter as I moved to follow him.
"Grillby," he called out, "put it on my tab."
He rose his hand in a wave, never once looking back.
I jumped off the barstool, tripping over my own feet as I hurried to catch up to him. If I waited too long then—
"Sans!" I cried out, the door to Grillby's clattering shut behind me as my feet sank into the snow. "Sans, where are you?!"
I trudged out into the main way, wiping my head to either side against the wind as my brown hair whipped around my face.
"Sans," I called out again.
The cry died on the wind. Undoubtedly he'd used his short-cut to outrun me. I couldn't blame him, after I had avoided him. I had no clue what I'd intended to achieve by going to Grillby's.
Reset.
I froze, hugging myself against the cold.
"Sans?" I whispered, fingers digging into the soft material of my sweater.
The snow had already begun clinging to my cheeks and hair, dampening my top and shorts. It was uncommon for Snowdin to have such a heavy snow. While a blanket remained over the town year-round, the storms were little more than gentle flurries.
I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing my arm absently.
Sans was gone. There was no point in standing around in the cold. Given the hour, Toriel was likely worried about me—wondering where I was.
The lights of the town slowly faded as I passed the welcoming sign of the town. As the woods crept into view, the storm seemed to grow fierce—wind tearing at my sweater and rough pelts of snow stinging my cheeks.
Slowly, the bridge came into view. A few small planks of wood that still sported Papyrus's too-wide bars. He'd meant for them to keep humans out and it did just the opposite. I'd come to see it as a sign of welcome.
A small figure shuffled into view, something oddly shaped in their hand. The wood creaked beneath my weight as I stepped onto the bridge, hugging myself tightly.
"Sans, is that you?" I called out.
This was where we had met—where I had first encountered the skeleton. Had he waited for me to come back so he could play a trick on me—some pun to show that he had the upper hand?
I took another step forward, the wood groaning and the figure moved to a halt, shadowed by the storm. Their head turned slightly and I saw the pinpricks of red flash for just an instant before the figure turned away.
"He may know about reset," the voice called out over the storm. "But he will never agree to it. Not when he learns about me."
The voice was feminine—not Sans and definitely not Toriel given their short stature. Chilled, I found myself digging my fingers into the material yet again.
"Who are you?" I cried out, squinting to try to see the creature better. "Why are you here?"
No one should have been so close to the Ruins. Only Toriel and Sans traveled out this far.
Toriel, Sans—and Flowey. But Flowey had been missing since I'd discovered his identity in the True Lab. Since I had learned that he was the fallen prince, Asriel.
The pricks of red flashed once more before the storm began to die down. Brown locks twisted in the wind, the green sweater of the creature whipping against their small form.
My eyes widened and I took a step back, snow crunching underfoot as I stepped off the bridge. The slender fingers wrapped around a knife made my throat clench and my heart race.
A human?
The girl glanced over her shoulder absently, lifting the knife and twisting it left and right as she examined it. Something red stained the blade and the thought of what it was nearly had me tossing up the butterscotch pie I'd had earlier.
"He won't believe you," she drawled, red eyes catching my brown ones, "because of me."