I wake up to the sound of Sans' screams.

Jolting up in bed, heart beating like a drum, I look for the source of the danger and realize that he is still laid next to me, but is writhing in his sleep, tears streaming down his face and face filled with pain. It is 6 in the morning.

'LUCIE!' he howls, and I jump again, looking at him in horror.

'Sans!' I shake him gently, and he jerks awake, eyes full of fear and despair.

'W-what? What's going on..?'

'You had a nightmare, Sans.' I pull him close and hold him. 'You were screaming.'

He pulls me tightly to his chest, turquoise tears still cascading from his eyes. 'You… I saw you… dead.' He sobbed. 'The… people from the park…'

I hush him, rubbing circles into his back, trying to get him to calm down, but he breaks away from me and begins to pace, the flames leaping up in his eye higher than I've ever seen them. Pulling a shirt over my head to cover my bare chest, I watch him worriedly.

Is he really this scared about those thugs?

'I'm alive, Sans.' I stand facing him, trying to appear calm. I hold up my hand. 'See?' Sans touches it gingerly with his fingers, then pulls me close to him again. He's shaking like a leaf, sending vibrations through me. I run my hand up and down his back, tracing patterns into the fabric of his t shirt.

Eventually, I lead him back to bed, letting him climb in before crawling in after him and cuddling up, face to face. I can hear his breathing slowing to a steadier pace, so I feel that he's ready to speak.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

He closes his eyes briefly, then whispers, 'Nightmares. I get them all the time. They feel so… real.' I touch my fingers to his skull tenderly, encouraging him to go on.

'I saw you… on the ground, and one of the guys from the park… standing over you. Holding a knife. So much blood…' He trails off.

'At least you know now that it wasn't real.' I take his hand and put it to my face, to my lips. 'I'm here.'

'Luce…' He murmurs, voice filled with an emotion that I can't quite put my finger on. Desperation? Fear? Guilt, even? 'My dreams… In every timeline…' He's looking anywhere but me, like he's been accused of a crime that he may or may not have committed. He swallows, and at that moment it is the loudest noise in the world.

'They've always…'

'They've always what, Sans?' He blinks, then finally meets my eye.

'They've always come true so far.'

By 11, Sans had calmed down a lot more. He told me to ignore everything he had said in his half-asleep state, that his nightmare had still been affecting his thoughts. He told me what he'd said wasn't true. Still, I have a bad feeling. The bad feeling festers inside me, eating at my stomach. I can't let it consume me.

After a while, I proposed a movie day in our pyjamas, and Sans agreed whole-heartedly. Then he insisted that it's not a movie marathon without appropriate snacks, which I supposed was fair- until I lost the game of rock paper scissors and was given a shopping list and a £10 note.

The shop was less busy than usual, and I didn't feel as bad as I usually do. I barely even worried about what the cashier was thinking about my trolley full of ketchup, chocolate and various other junk food items. I think about this as I walk back, clutching my shopping bags. Ever since I met Sans, my load's been a little lighter. I smile at the ground, before dropping it as I think about his nightmare. I hope I haven't made his any heavier.

It's less sunny today, but humid. I notice the smell of hot tarmac and the three- no, four- birds on the pavement. I notice the homeless man begging for change across the street, and I notice the monster that stops to buy him a sandwich. But I don't notice the figure that is following me, treading my footsteps, until it's too late.

A familiar hand clamps over my mouth, yanking me roughly into a side alley.

'Hey, bitch.' He whispers in my ear, and the hideous stench of his breath fills my nostrils, fear filling my body like lead. I'm paralyzed. He tugs me backwards a few metres, one hand on my mouth and the other clutching a hunk of my hair. He then shoves me backwards and I stumble into a back wall- cornered. It is damp and dingy, a few bags of rubbish the only decoration. I desperately peep over his shoulder, the bright city street seeming far away, and help even further.

'If you call for help…' He hisses. 'I'll fucking murder you.'

I nod in terror, feeling my breaths speed up. This can't be happening. This isn't real. This can't be happening. My hands are shaking like anything and adrenaline is already pumping through my body. Fight or flight. I can't do either.

'This,' he growls, 'Is a warning. A second chance. You're welcome.' I feel the damp, mossy wall behind me with my fingertips and try to count to ten, feeling my lungs shrink.

I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die

'You and your scummy little monster boyfriend are not welcome here.' He snarls, flecks of spit spraying from his yellow teeth, sunken eyes narrowed with hatred.

Panic.

Suddenly a cat hisses from behind a bag of rubbish and we both jump.

'Fuckin' vermin.' He steps to one side to lash out at it with a foot, and I see an escape form.

Desperately, I leap past him and begin to dash towards the street, feet slamming against the ground, arms pumping, mouth opening ready to let out a shriek… and a rugged hand closes on my arm, so tight it leaves bruises. He pulls me back so fast I'm sure the whiplash has dislocated my shoulder, and as I whirl back to face him there is a fist to meet my face.

Wham.

I see black and purple and green. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting out a gasp, because the pain is unbearable, spreading out from my cheekbone to my temple to the bridge of my nose. Falling to my knees, I clutch at my face, trying to make the pain stop, to clear my head.

'Second chance, freak.' A growl comes from above me, and a glob of spit lands on the ground in front of me. Then retreating footsteps, and silence.

Gradually, the pain begins to fade. I stand, slowly, feeling my hands shake wildly, legs feeling wobbly. I'm in shock. I just got attacked. I just got attacked. The word seems foreign, something that happens in fairy stories. I make a conscious effort to stop the shaking in my hands, before checking my face in my phone camera. It has not yet begun to fully bruise, although there is already a purple shadow along the socket eye. Shoving my phone in my pocket and picking up the bags, I began to gingerly place one foot in front of the other, scared that the guy will change his mind and come back for me. I can feel a phantom hand on my face, on my arm. His voice echoes in my eardrums, harsh and brutal and certain.

One thing's for sure. I can't tell Sans about this. Not after this morning; not after the pain I'd seen on his face. I need to deal with this on my own, for once, and make sure that he stays happy. Ignorance is bliss. I ignore the single tear that tracks down my face, purely a reflex from the pain, because I am filled with determination.

As I push the door open, I thank my stars that Sans is in his room. I dump the shopping bags on the kitchen table, realising that Papyrus is also out. Must be at Undyne's. I creep up the stairs and along the hallway, practically diving into my room. Locking the door, I pick up my makeup bag and retrieve the crusty old foundation that I use every once in a blue moon. I dab it along my cheekbone and rub it in carefully, ignoring the pain. I add a few more layers before stepping back and admiring my handiwork. It's barely visible. I'll have a bit more to worry about when the bruise fully forms, but for now I should be okay. I let out a worried sigh. I still haven't fully taken in the events that just occurred, but I push the anxious thoughts to the back of my mind. I haven't had to do that in a while. Not since Sans first walked into my life, but I need to keep them bottled and hidden away; for him.

'Luce?' Sans voice reverberates through the house. 'You home?'

'Yup!' I call back, taking one last look at the mirror before opening the door. I fix a smile to my face and ignore the cold dread that is sifting around in my stomach. The dream. The attack. A premonition? Or just a coincidence?

Shut up shut up shut up stop thinking about it

'I'm home.'

*AUTHOR'S NOTE*
Do we want a chapter with Papyrus?
I feel like I've glossed over him.
Also this chapter feels hella rushed but ah well
Anyway ooh the drama, what's gonna happen next?
Let me know what you think!

-lizzie