AN: Still trying to get used to a steady posting schedule. I seem to keep missing the self-imposed deadlines. I'm more used to just uploading whenever I finish a chapter. But hey, self-imposed deadlines are just that. Self-imposed and they mean nothing to anyone but me. **Ahem** Anyway . . . Thank you for being patient with me! And please enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter 10
Crush

It's been a while, but Sans has settled into his routine nicely. He's an established full-time employee working under the Royal Scientist. It's more than he could have hoped. It paid well and it was a stable income. He thinks sometimes about where his life was headed back home and there was no way he could have ended up at this point so soon. Eventually, maybe, but he never could have imagined . . .

Not only that, but he'd made new relationships here as well. Mainly coworkers, but that's not a bad thing at all.

The doctor was a good boss in his opinion. He had a plan for the place and he knew just what needed to be done in order to set that plan in motion. He knew his workers and their strengths and weaknesses and allotted tasks based on those observations. He trusted his team to complete their work even with minimal supervision, but even so, he made it a point to let the others know that if ever they needed clarification or assistance, that he was available. As long as everyone did their part, Gaster was happy and the place could run smoothly. He ran the place more like a team and less like a boss and his subordinates. Sans liked the dynamic. In fact, he preferred it.

His other coworker, Gaine, the tall Cat monster, seemed to like to work alone, and that was how he thrived. He was very observant and thorough and quick with his projects. Having a partner only ever slowed him down and distracted him from the task at hand. It makes him seem more aloof than he really was. During the lunch break and right at quitting time were really the only times Sans saw him outside of his workspace. But he's a lot more open to talking during those times as long as the conversations don't hold him up from whatever it is he has to do next.

And then there was the Doctor's kid, Corbel. His lab partner. He was a cool dude. Still very innocent and sheltered, but he had a good handle on his sense of self. He was a hard worker and he was very conscious about the image he needed to uphold, knowing how his actions can reflect on his father's reputation. He's a good son. But even with those thoughts in mind, Corbel seems to know how to have fun. And really, because he's around, the job seems less like work. And really, to Sans, it feels more like hanging out with a friend than working with another coworker. Sans couldn't ask for a better lab partner.

So when Corbel starts acting strangely around him, of course, Sans takes notice. The boy always did have a cute kind of innocent charm about him, but now it's been amplified. Where before, it was never a big deal, the kid almost never makes direct eye contact anymore and he's even more subdued in his actions. He's acting downright timid which seems a bit odd for him. Even the boy's laugh when they make jokes during work seems . . . . what's the word . . . . cautious? Cautious. It was never like that before and it seems almost like he's afraid of missing something if he were to laugh too hard.

It's strange, to say the least.

"I dunno." Gaine hummed when Sans brought up his concerns to him one day at the end of shift. Corbel had already gone to his father's office and the two were alone as Gaine was gathering his things to head home, "I mean, it's not really any of my business, but from the sound of it, it's almost like he's got a bit of a crush on you, kid."

Sans is taken aback by the suggestion and he chuckles awkwardly at it. No way! There's no way that Corbel could . . .

"What makes you say that?"

"Really? It's kind of obvious when you lay it all out like that. He's suddenly shy around you when he wasn't before. He avoids your gaze because he doesn't want you to catch him blushing, and when he laughs, he reels it back because he wants to see you and hear you laugh. Has he done anything else? Asked you your favorite color or foods or anything like that recently? Has he given anything to you using that information?

Sans thinks it over. "Well, yeah. Corbel's my friend. Why wouldn't he be curious? And it's not that abnormal to want to know more about your friends or to be nice to them. It's thoughtful, not flirtatious. As far as gifts . . . well, no. He hasn't given me anything."

"Well, has he shown an interest in being with you outside of work? Has he suggested the two of you go somewhere over the weekend or hang out alone on some excursion? Maybe lead you one of his favorite spots?"

"No. Not really. But even if he did, what would that prove? Like I said, Corbel's my friend! Why would it be so far-fetched if he wanted to hang out somewhere besides work? I dunno, Gaine. It sounds more like you're grasping at straws here."

"Hey, you asked me, remember? I'm just giving my honest opinion. I don't really care and, like I said, it's none of my business either way. Whatever goes on in the doctor's kid's head is up to him, and to some extent, you if ever he decides to come out and confess. Just don't rule it out as a possibility. Otherwise, you fail as a scientist. Think it over and act accordingly. This is a delicate situation and I suggest you treat it as such."

Sans thinks it over. Has Corbel been hinting at something like that? He was acting a bit strangely, but did it . . . did he . . . was there any other evidence?

"I don't know if it would count," Sans said slowly, "but last week, he did invite me over to his house for . . . well, his family said I could come over for dinner on Friday . . . and the two of us would hang . . . while his parents go out . . . Oh no . . ."

Gaine raised his brows. "'Oh no'? Better make sure he doesn't hear you say that. You could break his fragile little spirit. But yeah, it does sound like he invited you over for a date, doesn't it?"

"I thought it was just a sleepover! It sounded like a sleepover! How did I not see that before . . . ? How did I miss this? Oh no . . . no no, Corbel . . . but I already said I'd go. Gaine, what do I do?"

"Sounds like a personal problem to me, but, think of it this way. Do you wanna date the kid or not? Considering his parents are in on it too and helping to set it up, it's probably safe to assume it's his first date. They're giving you space for the night to see how it develops. Not to mention they already like you and trust you enough not to take advantage of their kid or their home. I say you don't break that trust. You kinda have to go. Unless you can think of a REALLY good excuse not to. As for Corbel . . . you have to play that one as carefully as possible. IF this really is his first date, you don't want to ruin it for him . . . it would be cruel to build him up just to knock him down. That being said, you don't want to lead him on either, because that would be even worse."

" . . . so I have to let him down gently . . . before Friday. Man . . . he even said he was going to cook for me . . . how could I be so slow!? Well, technically his mom's making the actual dinner, but he said he'd make . . . it doesn't matter! He said he'd cook for me . . . But how do I . . . Okay. First, I need to figure out if he thinks of it as a date. I need to test the waters and see where he's coming from. I can't act until I know for sure . . . but if you're right . . . if he does feel that way, then . . . I'll have to . . ."

"Or. Wild thought. I dunno. You could date the kid and see how you feel about it. What's so wrong with that scenario that you shoot first to rejection? Is he not your type or something?"

Sans goes quiet for a moment. "I . . . I can't."

Gaine stops for a moment and watches Sans. "I see. Poor kid. Well, if it comes to it then . . . you'll have to do what you have to do. Good luck."

Gaine takes his leave then and Sans is left in the atrium with more thoughts on his mind than he knows what to do with. He lets out a long sigh.

At the next opportunity, Sans has, He decides he needs to get to the bottom of things, though he's still nervous about how to approach the subject. Like Gaine said, it's a very delicate situation and one wrong move could destroy the friendship they already had.

Even so, Sans' resolve began to falter. Corbel had been planning and looking forward to Friday night . . . and not only him, Corbel expressed real joy at seeing his parents finally go out on a date of their own. If he turned Corbel down now . . . there was a chance that not only his plans would fall through, but his parents' plans as well. He could be ruining two dates . . .

Damn it.

He didn't really have a choice if he wanted to keep the good vibes going . . . at least through the weekend. So much for getting to the bottom of things before Friday.

Sans did take the opportunity to watch and observe Corbel. His gazes, his movements, and his speech. And even in the most simple of conversations, there was a hint of nervous hesitation . . . and Sans had to admit that it was kind of adorable. Corbel was trying so hard not to trip up on his words or fumble too much with the instruments. And before a test or an experiment, Corbel would start early in order to go over the supply list for both of them. He would make sure Sans had everything he needed to get started. Corbel would go out of his way to make sure he was set up even before tending to his own list of things. Sans always thought that it was just because Corbel was an awesome lab partner, but with this new filter over his eyes . . . he thought that perhaps it could have meant more to Corbel than just that. Even when Sans tried to insist that he gather his own supplies or that he clean Corbel's at the end of the day, the boy would refuse and insist that he take care of it.

The more he paid attention, the more obvious it all seemed. Could Sans really just say nothing all the way through the weekend just to spare his friend's feelings for just a little while longer? To save his parents' weekend as well . . . or would keeping it in until then make it even that much harder for him later on?

"Hey, um . . . Corbel?"

"Yeah, Sans?" Corbel grinned, setting the last flask upside down on the towel in order to let it dry overnight. Even the tone in his voice was lighter.

"About tonight . . ."

". . . Y-yeah . . . ?"

At that, something in Corbel's posture seized for a second, like maybe he was already preparing for the worst. How sad that this was his first reaction to any mention of the evening. Sans supposed that his tone wasn't the most upbeat either . . . but still . . .

Maybe after dinner really would be best . . . but he really couldn't do anything that would hurt the kid more than he was already going to.

"I just wanted to say . . . I'm really looking forward to it. It's been a really long time since I've had a home-cooked meal."

When Corbel turned to him, it was with the slightest hint of suspicion. Through that, a smile pulled again at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, you won't be disappointed! I'm gonna make sure I follow mom's recipe exactly. She's gonna be busy getting ready for her date with Dad, so I'll be in charge of the actual meal prep. But we did all of our shopping yesterday . . . and- and spaghetti is pretty easy to do. Not many ways you can screw that up, right? So I- So, I'll- I mean . . . I'll do my best!"

"Wait. You're the one who's cooking!?"

"Well, you don't have to sound so dejected about it!" Corbel smiled even more brightly. "I won't poison you!"

Sans drew in a deep breath and tried to make it silent, making sure his smile remained intact.

Of course, Corbel noticed the change. "Alright, Sans. What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Sans questioned a little surprised.

"Yeah. Wrong. What? You think I can't tell when you're faking? I can tell when my mom does it and I tell when you do it!"

Sans tore his eyes away for a second to look off to the side. He released that breath in a single huff.

"I just- I thought your parents would be there." Sans responded, still trying to keep his smile, "At least through dinner. Like a family thing. After all, didn't your mom say that she wanted to catch up?"

Corbel was unshaken, "Dad surprised her with dinner reservations."

"Oh! Good for them."

"Yeah. They've really needed a night out. I'm happy for them."

"So we'll be alone all night?"

"Yeah, this was established last week."

"And you're gonna make spaghetti? Just for the two of us?"

"Well, I said I was gonna. And my mom's recipe is amazing! Don't worry, it's gonna be-"

"Corbel, is this a date?" Sans asked bluntly.

Corbel froze mid-word, his eyes shooting wide open. At first, it didn't look like he would move again for quite a while, but when he cleared his throat and turned his eyes away as he wrung his hands together in his nervous habit, Sans knew that he was still functioning at least.

"W-w-well," Corbel stammered, unable to find a steady place to start. The same nervousness that Sans had found adorable before, now gripped tightly at his heart. So it was true . . . before he could sense it, before he knew what was going on, Corbel had fallen . . . and this whole thing was him trying to show his affection . . . ?

"Corbel . . . ?"

"O-of course it's not a date!" Corbel scoffed, tearing his hands from each other and shoving them in his pockets instead. "I-if it were a date, I would have asked you out! It-it can't be a date unless you agree to it too! So . . . yeah . . . it- it's not a date!"

Sans turned his eyes away this time so neither one of them was looking at the other. A heavy silence fell over both of them as they each tried to find the best way to move forward.

"Corbel . . ." Sans started again softly, "You invited me over to your house for dinner, offered to cook for me, suggested we hang out afterward . . . and I said yes . . . I understand how it could be seen as a date . . . the question here is . . . do you want it to be? Did you wanna ask me out, but didn't really know how?"

Again Corbel hesitated and Sans could sense the trepidation in the younger Skeleton. He remembered the feeling well. It hadn't been too long ago that he'd been going through something similar . . .

"W-what would you have said if I did ask you out?" The boy asked in a near-whisper.

Sans froze this time, unable to bring himself to say it out loud. Already, Corbel sounded as if all the life and energy had been punched out of him and his composure was only holding on by a thread.

The silence became Sans' answer.

Corbel lowered his head even more, "Of course . . . " He muttered, "God, I'm such an idiot . . ."

"Corbel, no! Don't say that!"

"No . . . I should have known . . . there's no way you'd ever go for someone like me."

"That's not it!" Sans argued, "Trust me. Look, you're a great kid, it's just-"

"And that's all I am, huh? Just a kid? Is that all you see me as? No, that's not it, is it? Let me guess. I'm 'The Doctor's Kid' right? I'm so much more than just that, you know!? Let me show you!"

"I do know." Sans answered, still not daring to look back up at Corbel, "Over the past few months, I've really gotten to know you and you really are amazing. You're talented and driven. You're caring and considerate. You're ambitious and dedicated. And you're funny! Anyone would be lucky to have you!"

"anyone but you."

Sans grunted as he felt a knife drive into him. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid. He'd caused Corbel so much pain with so little effort. It was terrible to see his face fallen so much. Less than a second later, he raised his hands to his eyes to quickly brush away the sudden downfall of tears.

"Look, Corbel . . . how do you . . . I mean, are you-?"

"Am I what? Am I sure? How can I be certain that I'm in love with you? Do I know for sure that's what this is? That this isn't some high school fling that I'm gonna get over in a month and never think about again. Is that it? Believe me, I've thought about this over and over again, asking myself the exact same questions. Wondering the exact same things. And my answer is . . . No. No, I'm not sure. I have no idea what I'm feeling right now. I don't know if this is love or infatuation or just admiration . . . I only know that I've never felt this way about anyone before. Not ever. And I have no idea how long it's going to last. Could be a month. Could be several years . . . could be my entire life. I don't know. And there's no way of knowing! I just know that whatever it is I'm feeling . . . It's happening now . . . And it's strong now. And it only happens when I'm around you or when I think about you . . . or when your name is mentioned. I can't help it and I can't control it . . . and it isn't like I can just . . ."

During Corbel's talk, Sans took a step forward, taking both of the younger Skeleton's hands in his and lowering them from his face. From there, he took Corbel in his arms in a solid embrace and Corbel went silent for several long seconds, not even drawing in a breath.

"I'm so sorry." Sans whispered to him, "I wish I could fix this for you. I wish I could do this in a way that didn't hurt you. But let me explain. It's not that I don't like you. That's not it at all! You're a great guy and I wasn't lying when I said anyone would be lucky to have you. But I . . . I'm already involved with someone. I have been for a while."

If possible, Corbel's form went even more rigid. How was it that he'd never even considered that possibility? That Sans was already taken?

Through a painful pinch in his throat, Corbel replied.

"Really? But-but you never . . ."

"She's . . . not from around here and I don't get to see her anymore since I'm here now . . . but I- I made a promise. That I'd get back to her."

Finally, Corbel returned the embrace. His grip was loose and it only held the minimal amount of energy behind it.

"Sounds important." He replied.

Sans nodded.

"She's very lucky. I hope she knows that . . . What's her name?"

"Ava."

"Ava . . . Pretty . . ."

"I'm sorry." Sans repeated.

"No . . ." Corbel sighed. "There were too many variables for me to expect favorable results. Too many unforeseen circumstances . . . I'm the one who should be sorry, Sans."

He was already trying to distance himself emotionally, turning back to work jargon . . . as if this whole thing had been nothing but an experiment . . . with his heart as the test subject.

Sans' grip tightened even more. And after several more moments spent in complete silence, Corbel's composure and his frame shook. His grip became nearly crushing as he lowered his head to Sans' shoulder. Sans closed his eyes as the knife was driven deeper into his heart and it began to twist, making a sizable hole within him. He raised a hand and cradled Corbel's skull as his friend cried.

They stayed that way for several long minutes with Corbel releasing all of his pain and frustration into Sans' shoulder and Sans absorbing every bit of it. It was the very least he could do for him.

When Corbel was ready and not a moment before, the hold was broken and the younger of the two pulled away.

"S-So, where does that leave us then?" He wavered, raising his hands to his eyes once again. "What do we do now?"

Sans hesitated, still keeping his eyes lowered to his shoes. He still didn't have it in him to make eye contact with the boy and he kept his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't have to release them from their clenched position.

"I can't be your boyfriend." He said softly, "But I really really hope that doesn't mean we can't still be . . . I mean, you're the best friend I've got . . . and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I know it's asking a lot of you right now . . ."

"You haven't lost me, Sans." Corbel hummed solemnly. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

Sans kept his head lowered. He really didn't deserve someone like Corbel. Even now, he was acting incredibly mature about this. Instead of completely falling apart and shoving himself away or lashing out against him, Corbel still held and he was even talking about being around to support him, the one who had just broken his heart not even twenty minutes ago.

Sans sighed heavily, feeling like something worse than shit.

Eventually, the two decided on a plan for the night. Gaster would be heading back to Waterfall soon to pick up Nyala for their date. Their reservations were coming up soon as well, so they would be preoccupied with keeping their reservations enough to let Corbel and Sans do whatever.

"No matter what," Corbel pressed, "they can't know about what happened. If Dad found out, he'd worry and then he'd tell Mom and she'd worry too and then they'd both be worried and distracted all throughout their date . . . or they may cancel that altogether . . . that's the last thing I want. So, when Dad heads home. I say we stay here, saying that we're gonna hang around Hotland for a while before we head home."

"And then . . . ?"

"Then we part ways. I'll go home."

"By yourself?"

"Well, yeah. There's no point in trying to do anything else."

"But . . . will you be okay by yourself? And besides, it's Friday! Let's actually have some fun. I-if you like . . . I could still come over and we'll try out your mom's recipe."

Corbel kept his eyes trained to the ground, his expression sour.

"Sorry, I'm just not feeling up to spaghetti right now."

"Then we'll grab some food somewhere! There's this new place in Snowdin I've been meaning to try out! Come with me! It'll be my treat!"

"No, Sans!" Corbel snapped. An instant later, he let out a long steadying breath, his hands tightened at his sides. "Don't do that! Don't you dare pity me! I'm not a child! I can handle it! Just . . . Just give me time, okay? I can't . . . I just . . . Leave me alone."

"Corbel . . . ?"

"I'm going below." Corbel answered in a near whisper, "If Dad asks, I'm . . . I'll be . . . locking up for the weekend."

Corbel passed without another word, his head low and his eyes set and Sans let him pass in the same fashion. He did watch as the younger Skeleton got to the door where his messenger bag had been hanging on a wall hook. With a quick glance to it, Corbel seemed to remember something.

Digging into the bag, he pulled out a flat thin . . . thing wrapped in paper. It was too thin to be a book and seemed to be stiffer as well. Like a frame, maybe?

He set the thing on a counter near the door.

"This is for you." He said dryly, all emotion drained from him, "You can put it on the outside of your door. I thought that since you liked . . . that your major was . . ." He cut himself off, unable to continue.

"Thank you, Corbel." Sans answered, "You know, you really don't have to-"

"I made it for you. That part hasn't changed. It's still yours."

With that, Corbel opened the door and slipped through with his messenger bag without looking back.

It was only several moments after Corbel left and was far from the room that Sans dared move again. Damn it, that was difficult . . . and he'd really hurt the kid . . . no, he'd really hurt Corbel. That could have gone a lot better . . . but then, Corbel being who he was, it did go a lot better than it could have as well.

The poor guy . . .

He couldn't get his face out of his mind. The fear in his expression when he sensed something was wrong. The fracture in his resolve when he was trying to save face, the moment when that resolve shattered and everything came crashing down around him.

That hole in his heart began to ache for him and he had no idea of how to even begin to make this up to him . . . could he make this up to him? Was there any recovering from this point?

Sans stepped forward, maybe wanting to follow Corbel and make sure he would be okay. Maybe to protect him from . . . from what, exactly? If he followed him, it would only hurt him more.

He stopped at the counter where Corbel's gift lay. A gift for no reason . . . Something that he said he'd made . . .

He took it in his hands and turned it over to find the best way to unwrap it without messing up the paper too much . . . it was nicely done.

Eventually, he had it unwrapped and what he saw made his heart sink even more.

Inside was a painted name plaque on a wooden mount. A paper sketch had been affixed and sealed to the wood in resin. The painting was of the glowing stones and crevices of the Wishing Room. Bright blue paints shone for the stones and dotted the rest of the dark background in stars.

Wait a minute . . .

Testing his suspicion, Sans shut off the lights in the room. Immediately, the stones and the stars of the name plaque began to shine on their own. And through the stars, his name shone through.

"Corbel . . ." Sans sighed.

There still had been no word since that day, it'd been an entire two weeks and Sans was starting to get restless. There hadn't even been an update from the doctor and if anyone would have any information, he would . . .

. . . then again, it was a completely private matter. The kid . . . Corbel had stopped showing up to work and there was no sign of him anywhere- not since that night.

It wasn't that Sans couldn't handle the workload alone. He could with no problem . . . but his mind was distracted, worried about Corbel and what happened that night.

There had to be a way to find out if he was okay.

So, against his better judgment, Sans decided to ask Gaster. Gaster brought Sans into his office and shut the door behind them.

"Now, what is this about, Sans?" Gaster asked sitting in the chair behind his desk. He motioned for Sans to take the opposing chair, "You said it was important."

"Yeah . . . I just . . . wanted to ask you if Corbel was alright. He hasn't been in at all and I was hoping that . . . maybe-"

"He would shove down his feelings for your benefit? He would bounce back to you like a rubber ball and pretend everything was okay? Go on as if facing you now wouldn't shatter him again?"

Sans clenched his teeth, that knife stabbing a new hole within him.

"Ouch . . ." he muttered, tearing his gaze away. Already, he was regretting asking. He knew that Corbel was hurting and there really wasn't a whole lot he could do from his current position, but still, he thought that knowing would be better. It was better to show that he was concerned about him at least, that he was worried about him, right?

"Yet that pain is nothing in comparison." Gaster continued. Sans knew that he wasn't upset for himself . . . that this was all about his son. But still, that scrutinizing glare was enough to make Sans want to melt.

"It isn't my place to put words into Corbel's mouth. But I can tell you what I see. He refuses to leave his room outside of school. And he's had no energy even when he does show his face. He hasn't even been eating at home when we have dinner. Whatever happened, it had a significant impact on Corbel. It changed him completely.

"And Nyala is upset as well. She blames herself for suggesting the get-together. It broke her heart that night when we came home and the house was dark. The spaghetti hadn't been touched and there was no answer from inside Corbel's room when we called, even though we could hear him. And to think that he was hiding it- that he let us believe everything was going well so that Nyala and I could enjoy our evening and meanwhile he was there suffering alone."

"I . . ." Sans wanted to say that he'd offered to keep Corbel company that night. Make sure he was okay so he wouldn't be alone, but Corbel had refused. Somehow he didn't think that would help his case.

Sans stood, his question answered. "I understand." He said quietly in a hushed tone.

"What makes you think you get to walk away from this?" Gaster nearly hissed, "Remain seated until you are dismissed, Mr. Serif."

Sans sat again, his breath catching and his nerves freezing.

"Since this is not a work-related incident, I can neither suspend nor fire you, but so help me, if I could, I would."

Sans swallowed nothing, perhaps trying to keep his composure.

"Not only that, but I would be remiss if I didn't say that this is a part of growing up. You are both still very young and matters of the heart are heavy, especially when experienced for the first time. But know this, Corbel is a very special boy. He doesn't know how to give anything less than one-hundred percent. He puts all of himself into what he does. And when he loves, he loves completely. So, I can only predict that this situation will take him a while to 'get over'. Now, I won't ask you to explain yourself or plead a case. This matter will be handled in a way that Corbel will decide. It was his heart that was broken. So he will be the one who dictates where this goes. For now, I will say that per his request, he will be taken off of the project to which the two of you had been assigned. You will need to complete the assignment alone from now on, do you understand?"

Sans nodded, "understood . . ." He answered in a minuscule voice.

"Good. And one other thing. You have until the end of this month to collect your things and be out of your room. As I understand, you have been searching for an apartment. Well, I suggest you put in any effort that isn't being utilized here and find that apartment before the end of this month. Because of your age, if you should happen to need a cosigner, I can still offer my assistance as a reference . . . however, you will need to keep on top of your financial and living situations from here on out. Living here in the lab was a courtesy that has now expired. Am I clear?"

" . . . yes, sir." Sans answered, unable to lift his eyes or his face.

"Good. Now, Mr. Serif, you are dismissed."

Again, Sans stood, more slowly than before and in much more somber spirits. He supposed he did deserve it . . . but that didn't stop the slight bubbling of frustration within his gut. Whether it was frustration in Gaster, in the situation, or in himself, he had no idea, but it weighed him down. It felt like he was being punished for something he had no control over. How the hell was this fair!? What was he supposed to do? Pretend to date Corbel to placate the situation and appease him and his parents!? No, that would have hurt the boy even more! Then, what the hell?

He left the office silently, internally simmering, and made his way through the halls to his room. The shine of the glowing stones and painted stars, greeting him in quiet serenity as his gift from Corbel hung on the door. As he stared at it, that boiling inside of him became a tremble in his hand. Sadness, anger, doubt, uncertainty . . . this must have been a small taste of what Corbel was feeling. Damn it. But still, what else should he have done?

Growling to himself, fighting not to let it turn into a cry, Sans made a tight fist and threw it at full speed into the door. It hurt . . . a little.

The name plaque trembled at the impact but didn't fall. Once it stopped, it stared back at Sans in silence as if asking "what now"?

What now, indeed? That's just what he'd like to know.

"What now . . . ?"