Click. Creak. Gaster slowly and carefully opened Sans's bedroom door, controlling his movements to keep its noise to an absolute minimum as he strained its tired hinges. Hm. He knew how they felt. He took a step into the room, and angled himself just perfectly to allow the light of the hallway to pass him by, conquering as much of the blackened room as it could.
"Sans?" Gaster whispered into the darkness, hoping with all his might that he would get an affirmative response. He granted his eyes a short moment to adjust to the dim light, watching as an array of furniture and clothing came into view. Hm. Clothes on the floor again. Gaster was sick and tired of telling him. He was mentally drained as it was, and this untidy sight only served to exhaust Gaster more. Still… It was not the worst thing he would see.
Guided by the dim light of the hallway, Gaster finally settled his gaze upon Sans's bed. A quick brush of relief briefly touched upon Gaster's weary being when he saw his son sleeping in his chamber. That was a positive, at least. They would not have to play that bothersome game. "Oh thank goodness," Gaster breathed, relishing in his short-lived relief. "You are here."
He allowed his gaze to remain on Sans for a moment more, contemplating the cause of his anxiety as an uncomfortable feeling started to weigh heavily upon Gaster's soul. This was not quite right… "Something is off…" He thought to himself, acknowledging the unsettlement that was steadily embedding itself into his being. There was an atmosphere here; a poison. He could sense… … pain. In curiosity, Gaster stealthily approached the sleeping Sans, keeping his movements silent as to not wake the boy. He got as close as he could to see him, allowing a safe distance to remain between them as he looked down at Sans. "Oh."
Gaster almost flinched as a cold, sharp jolt of panic burst through his soul like a shooting star through the night sky. Its dust lingered within him, almost causing Gaster to nauseate at the unnerving sight before his eyes. Sans was… in pain. Agony, the kind of which even sleep could not erase. There were tears in his eyes; Sans was crying through his slumber, and his face had upon it a terribly sickly hue. "Oh my." Gaster breathed, his bright pupils disappearing into the murky hollowness of his eyes as a terrible feeling of dread threatened to consume him. What was wrong…? The uncertainty was almost too much to bear; what was wrong with his son! "Sans!" Gaster panted, collapsing his frame down with a heavy crash onto Sans's bedside chair. He pulled himself towards the bed, and forcefully pushed his hands against his sleeping child as the tightness of his desperation grew. "What's wrong?" Gaster demanded, his rapidly growing concern tearing through the monotone of his voice. "Wake up!"
He placed his hand on Sans's skull, cupping the shivering child's head in his palm. Sans looked so small… So fragile. He was moaning in his sleep, his tears of agony steadily dampening his bed sheets. He was shaking, as if he had a fever, but… "He's not hot, no fever." Gaster concluded to himself, assessing the situation piece by piece in the analytical manner that he found so comforting. "That's good… I guess."
"hurrrgh…" Sans groaned underneath him, the soft touch of Gaster's palm dragging him from his restless slumber. He stirred slightly, and began to open his eyes.
"Sans?" Gaster spoke softly. He felt himself calm, his fear for the child's wellbeing subsiding ever so slightly as Sans moved back into consciousness. Gaster gazed down at the boy, his palm still fixed on Sans's head so firmly it was as if he believed Sans would perish if he ever let go.
"dad…" Sans spoke weakly, and looked up at his father with tear-stained eyes. "you're home…"
