Sans opened his eyes. He was so confused at what happened. What had happened? He didn't remember anything about last night. Or this night? His eyes sockets were still blurry.
Ok, let's not freak out.
Sans was sitting a bed. His bed? No. This bed was made with a blanket and pillow. He was too lazy for that. Is it possible Papyrus finally gave in and took him there in the middle of the night? He was somewhere dark. Maybe underground. Dummy, of course we're underground. Sans's eye sockets started to adjust to the lighting, though still blurry.
He wasn't wearing his jacket. He still had his white shirt and shorts, but somehow, he felt less safe without his jacket.
He was in a room with a door and no windows. He wasn't in his room. There was a nightstand. On it was a framed picture (He didn't know of what. His vision still blurry for an unexplained reason) and a note. He went over and picked up the note. Sans blinked a couple of time then stared at the paper. It was a doctor's log. At least, it looked like one. Did he pass out again? Was he at the hospital?
Papyrus and the others must be so scared. Yet even as he thought about it. He knew it wasn't true. He sure wished it were true. Sans could see clearly now. He put the paper down and looked at the picture.
His heart stopped.
It was a picture of Papyrus sleeping with words scribbled in red crayon, (stars, let it be crayon).
It read "So you don't get homesick".
His non-existent stomach dropped. He felt sick as he stared at the creepy stalker-like picture of his brother. The memories of last (or tonight. Though he was now surer of the first) night flooded him in horror. The look on her face scared him. Scratch that. Frisk scared him. He jumped out of the bed and ran the door. He tried to pull it open. The door was locked, no surprises there. He needed to get out. Sans took a breath and tried to use his shortcut.
It didn't work. What did he expect? By the looks of it, he was somewhere magically secure. He couldn't teleport if he wanted to. Sans thought about banging on the door, to get help. Which was stupid. There was only two people down here, including himself. And he'd rather not see the other one.
Okay, Sans, you need to clam down. Freaking out won't do you any good. He paced the room. He looked for weak points, but there was nothing. He was trapped. Sans was trapped in some sort of confinement area with a lunatic. He had to focus on something else. Papyrus! Was he okay? Did that demon of a child hurt him? Kill him?
Sans almost hurled at that thought. And to think he trusted that brat? What was he thinking. Especially, after that Genocide Run. He was so stupid. Oh, stars, he had been sleeping with a murderer, who obviously planned this. His bones shook with fear. What was she going to do to him? What was she going to do to his brother?! All these questions and anxieties started to well over again.
So much for that money I spent on therapy, Sans thought bitterly. And the worst part was he couldn't do ANYTHING! He was a USELESS mouse in that sadistic cat's trap. All he could do was wait for something to happen. What was going to happen. Sans was so FREAKING scared. He hadn't felt this way since the first Genocide timeline. Sans always put on a strong look but was basically butter. Heck, he could look as strong as rock and still squish in someone hands. He wasn't exactly scared of dying anymore, but it wasn't desirable.
Sans sat on the bed, stone cold.
The door opened.
And Frisk skipped happily into the room.