The grip on his phalanges had become less and less gentle the longer they walked. Sans knew it was only exhaustion. They'd been walking for what felt like days, and even if the heat of Hotland didn't exhaust Grillby the same way it would him, the emotional rollercoaster they'd been going through couldn't have helped. It was his fault, either way. He was such a-
No, he needed to stop that, he'd promised he'd stop that. Even if it was true, even if he felt Grillby would be better off with anyone but him, hell, better off alone - he needed to stop thinking about it. He needed to- he needed- he-
Crap, he was bad at this. He'd never been good at those games, the ones where someone would mention a pink elephant and you weren't supposed to think about it. Anytime he'd got in a rut before, he'd been pretty much stuck. Pap- he had always been good at pulling him out, coming up with something else Sans needed to worry about, some new puzzle to try or recipe to hunt down. Maybe...maybe he could do something like that for Grillbz?
He'd done it before. Little gifts, little gestures he'd always thought were just sort of friendly, the kind of things that would make someone's day, or even their entire year. He admired Grillby, felt indebted to Grillby for the tab and all the midnight talks. He'd...wow, he'd been in love with the flame for a while, hadn't he? Now that he knew he could, now that he knew what it meant when his SOUL stuttered or sang, so many emotions he'd never been able to describe made sense. It was kinda a relief.
Another tripping step made him stumble into Grillby's backside, his own half-conscious shuffling coming to a halt. The hand in his gripped tighter, to the point where Sans would be wincing if Grillby squeezed just a hair's breadth more. He pulled his smile wider and pushed the pressure aside. It didn't matter.
"Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, are you alright? I-i-i didn't mean to, I, um, I, sorry. I'll just...door, key, key, where? Oh, here. Key. Um, I d-d-don't know which, um, room this is? But, um, they're all pretty nice, so...just go on down there. The restaurant probably has some food, if you...I mean, there's...if you go p-p-past the desk, there's...they always kept the cupboards...filled...um, yeah. I'll just leave."
The sound of Alphys' retreating footsteps was quickly overwhelmed by the splash of water on fabric. Sans wondered when it was that overgrown calculator had first put up the fountain that so completely failed, in every respect, to be at all cute. Or appealing. Or functional. Was it before or after the disastrous third movie? Somehow, he thought he could live without finding out. It would be a tragic blow, but in the end, he doubted it would be enough to carry him off.
Heh. He probably shouldn't be treating his own death like some kind of a joke, but really, it was kinda hilarious, wasn't it? The way no matter what happened, no matter what he did to himself, here he was, brought right back to the worthless- no. Not worthless, not with Grillby here. Not with everything he'd learned. Unbalanced, tragic, horrific, depressing, all those things and more. But worthless, nope, that it wasn't.
The hand tugged, and Sans followed, hoping they'd finally be able to get some sleep. Grillby probably wasn't as dead beat, heh, as him. Why was that funny again?
...Stars could he use a nap.
Mechanisms clicked and slid, scraping loudly in a way that spoke of metal-fatigue. Or maybe it was just grit in the tumblers. Either way, the entire building was probably filled with locks and things in a similar state of disrepair. Maybe he could root around for an oil can and- no. That was stupid, even for him. Walking around this sham of a building blind, let alone actually trying to take care of it, was just asking for trouble.
The door creaked open. Sans was startled as Grillby practically yanked him off his feet going in.
"hey, grillbz, wha- woah!"
Sans stumbled to his knees with the force of Grillby's second tug. Despite his best efforts, he still managed to lose his grip on the flame's hand. Now he was collapsed on the surprisingly soft carpet, in a completely unfamiliar room, with no idea whatsoever of where his bondmate was. Also, a growing cavern of a feeling that maybe the flame had pushed himself too far.
"grillz? throw me a bone here, i'm completely in the dark. you're okay, right?"
The dull crackle of flames was his only reply. He tried again, panic growing, "grillby? please say something. a grunt. a sigh. hell, you c-c-can even y-y-yell at me if you w-w-want, just...t-t-talk to me. please? what's w-w-wrong?"
Barely audible above the pop of plasma came a single, quiet word, "...fine….."
It did not reassure him. The way it faded into nothing, the way Grillby's heat faded with it...it chilled him to the bone.
Sans swept his hand over the carpet in front of him, feeling his way closer to the source of both sounds and heat. His phalanges caught in the musty silk of a bed. He felt up the side of the sheets until he found the top of the bed. He stood, shakily, not so much leaning on the bed as clinging to it. When he decided he was a stable as a blind sack of bones was likely to get, he began inching his way closer to the divot of collapsed warmth that was his lover.
In his mind, Sans was frantically reviewing the little healing magic he knew. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, he'd never been good enough at it to do anything. Half the things he knew would frequently backlash onto him, doubling the number of injured monsters in the room. It was depressing and he hated it. This was why he ne- no, stop. Focus.
Did he know anything that wasn't likely to blow up in his face? Something simple, maybe - well, even more simple? There was one thing...why not? He decided to try something that he...Gaster? Was that the name Grillby had used?...Gaster had once told him about. It hadn't worked at the time, but maybe now? He dredged up the memory of the words.
Think of a pair of glasses. The intent of glasses is to help you see, so make use of that concept. Imagine a pair of glasses built out of green magic. Feel them slide into place over your sockets; let them sit there. Let them help you see where it is the green magic is needed. Let them show you the weakest points in a monster's body, let them show you where you need to work. Or at least, where someone needs to go to work. It is not all that dissimilar to CHECKing, although much less useful in battle, as it shows nothing of ATK or DEF. If you are determined to fail at the healing itself, perhaps this task will not be too much for you.
He could do that, right? Sure, it hadn't worked back then, but he hadn't needed it to then. Anyway, he'd actually CHECKed someone now, in a real battle. The ki- nope. Not gonna think about that now. Nuh uh. Green-tinted glasses, that was all that was on his mind. Green-tinted glasses with gold-plated frames. He'd always thought those were neat. Green-tinted glasses in gold frames sliding down the sides of his skull, resting in front of his sockets. Hold them up with imaginary tape. There, that should do it.
Sans 'opened' his sockets to a swirl of angry colors dancing all around him; red and yellow and green and blue being dragged by brilliant white farther and farther down into a blinding mass of light, swirling with both every color and none, not even a hundred meters away. It was huge and massive and gigantic and overpowering and enormous and big and…
Sans ripped the 'glasses' off his skull and heaved them across the room, shaking and panting in fear, choking on a sob. His SOUL screamed at him, his head pounded, and his magic buzzed and glitched with power in a way he'd never seen it do before. Everything hurt, everything throbbed and spiked and ached and it hurt. He just let it, losing himself in the pain and the fear and the lack of control. Just once, just once, he'd like to be able to heal someone and not end up in crippling pain. Just once!
Breathe, Sans, just breathe. This isn't too bad...wait, no. That was a lie. This hurt a skele-ton. Heh. That didn't help. Why didn't that help? Puns always worked, they'd been the perfect distraction from all his problems for as long as he could remember. Why weren't they working now?
Well, it didn't matter. He'd just have to deal with it; Grillby needed him, so he'd muddle through. Not like he hadn't dealt with worse, right? Right. Don't think about it. Just do...okay, first order of business: decide on what to do next.
If he couldn't figure out what was wrong, what Grillby needed, maybe he could just feed him? Feeding sick people was a thing, right? Grillby had certainly seemed to think so before. It couldn't hurt to try.
There, now he had a plan. Feed Grillby. Good plan. Excellent plan. How the hell was he supposed to get food?
Sans culinary knowledge extended to hot dogs, hot cats, other hot animals, and ketchup. That was it, apart from one dream he'd had about fried snow, and a spectacularly failed attempt at a pie. In short, he knew nothing. Not a problem, seeing as the ingredient for the few things he could cook weren't likely to be hiding in the bedside table. Where was he even supposed to find the food?
Hadn't Alphys mentioned something about a pantry somewhere? Yeah...out in the lobby. He...he could do that. He'd made it through his broth- through the puzzle and cliff fields of Snowdin. He could navigate the MTT Resort lobby. Probably.
Heh. Guess he'd find out, wouldn't he?
Sans tried to kick the door of their room shut with his foot, hampered by a complete inability to see it and arms overflowing with some kind of food. Eh, it was fine where it was. Not like anyone was gonna sneak into their room, now, were they? Yeah, no, the door was fine. He had bigger fish to fry.
Heh, yeah. That was good. Who'd a thunk that MTT resort stockpiled bags and bags of pre-made fries? At least they felt like fries. Probably uncooked if they were fries, but still. It was food.
Would eating fries made by someone other than Grillby be cheating on him? Nah, no one made them like he did, so it didn't count. If they were actually tasty, that would be a whole other story, but come on. These were MTT fries. They probably had glitter on them. Sans was safe.
Okay, now, shuffle feet slowly across the carpeted floor like a cliched walking human corpse from one of those hilarious monster movies. Do not drop the fries while shuffling. Again. You got this, Sans, no bones about it. Heh.
Was the room colder than when he left it? Well, he did leave the door open, so...but Grillby had been in here the whole time. An hour, at least, given how pitifully slow he'd been walking. The heated air around Grillby should have had more than enough time to circulate and raise the ambient temperature of the room at least a few degrees if Grillby was anywhere near his normal temperature...crap.
Sans dropped the bag onto the edge of the bed, crawling up beside the flame. He stretched shaking hands out along the shimmering line of his bond. Finally, he reached him.
Grillby was cool to the touch. Not freezing, thank the Stars, not even luke warm, but way too cool for Sans' sanity. It chilled him to the bone. Heh.
His phalanges tapped along the seam of Grillby's vest until they found his shoulders. He latched on, squeezing tighter and tighter, shaking the flame, desperate to get Grillby to wake up.
"grillz? hey, grillbz, wake up. i got you some food. dunno what it is. might be fries. i know they won't be as good as yours, but, hey, it's food...come on, grillby. wakey wakey. i know we've got all the time in the underground to burn, but...sorry, that just sorta s-s-slipped out? you can get m-m-mad at me, come on, grillz. that...that was a bad one. ya gotta have s-s-some kinda reaction to it. lemme see. i p-p-promise i won't laugh...please? please?"
...but nobody came.
Sans was frantic now, cold wet streaks of tears rolling down the fused joint of his wiped them away, the bones of his arm not soaking up the tears as well as fabric would have. Stars did he miss his hoodie...where had it even ended up? Probably back at Grillby's place. Or in the Snow. Somewhere he couldn't go now, lost in the past. Heh. Maybe it had even found some of Papy-
He sucked in a breath, ribs rattling. Not now. Please, not now. He...he could cry later, okay? Just...he just had to take care of Grillby first. After that. Then he could break down. Yeah. After Grillby.
Okay, so - he sniffed again - so Grillby wasn't gonna wake up right no. He could deal with that. All that was needed was a bit of energy. Just enough to get him moving so he could eat something, anything. Sans could manage that, he'd been doing it for decades. Just...enough...but how much would be enough for Grillby? He...maybe he should keep going. Just until Grillby woke up. Yeah, that would work. Yeah.
Grillby floundered in darkness, his flames eaten up by the cold, damp mass around him. It felt like he was drowning in magma, only much, much colder. Definitely not pleasant. Keeping afloat was so exhausting...maybe he should just let himself sink in It was not as though he could see any other options.
Suddenly, a shaft of white and blue shot down beside him. It was an attack bone, a shape he'd recognise anywhere, blue fire edged in bright yellow-gold haloing the pearly shaft. He smiled. Sans. He grabbed the lifeline and held on.
Blue light, alternating with yellow, flared around him and in him. Grillby gasped, jolting upright What was-
Chilly, shivering bones wrapped around his chest, "grillby, you were...you were...please, don't do that again!"
Instinctively he hugged Sans closer to him. The tremors in his lovely skeleton eased, but all the while Grillby was examining his own flames.
Every one of them, without exception, was gilded in blue. Not the blue of extreme heat, nor that of alcoholic spills, but the familiar shade of blue that so utterly screamed Sans. It wasn't the first time he'd seen his flames tinged with his lover's color, but the last...the last time it had been the flames' cores, not their edges.
The outermost area of his flames were always the first affected by outside influences. The only times he'd ever seen them colored by a magic other than his own had been variations on the color green. Always preceded by a healing. This…
"...Sans, did you….." he did not want to ask this, he did not want to have to ask this, "...did you give me some of your magic…..through out bond? While I was…..asleep?"
Sans pulled out of his happy den under Grillby's arm and tilted his skull to face Grillby's head, "um...yeah? you were-"
Grillby's flames exploded with anger. Sans backed away, mouth tensing up. He didn't care if Sans was angry or afraid. Right now he was too furious with the skeleton to care.
"WHY?!"
Sans flinched from the roar, "y-y-you weren't waking up, and i-"
"I was SLEEPING! Other people do that, you know, even if we don't spend as much time at it as you. WE just wake YOU up, we never FORCE THOUGH A BOND to do it!"
Sans was still backing away, slower now, his shaking building back up again, "i t-t-tried, grillbz, i was-"
Grillby bared his firey fangs and pointed wildly at his own blue-tinted chest, "I KNOW WHAT YOU TRIED! YOU- you- Sans, don't you know that that is WRONG? It's just…..so wrong, I….."
The skeleton's face shifted into a look of confusion, "wrong? but...but i used to, when p-pap-"
Grillby flared, ignoring the hitch in Sans' breath, "I KNOW! You fed his bond ALL THE TIME, and look where that ended up. He was DRAINING you."
Now it was Sans' turn to scowl, "so? he needed it, he-"
"He needed none of it. Tell me, Sans, how often did you go more than twenty-four hours WITHOUT MESSING WITH HIS SOUL?"
Sans growled, low and deep, "plenty of times."
Grillby folded his arms, "Like when?"
"like…" Sans scowl slipped for a moment, then returned, "plenty of times! so what? what does that have to do with this?"
Grillby sputtered, "What does that - Sans, you were ADDICTED to him, to feeding him, and he to you! If it was you who had dusted instead of him-"
For the first time ever, Grillby heard Sans yell., tryl yell. It was broken and gravely and hardly as loud as the voice he would use in a crowded bar, but for Sans it was a yell nevertheless.
"IF IT WERE ME I'D BE GLAD! HE DESERVES TO LIVE SO MUCH MORE THAN ME. PAPYRUS...papyrus…"
Sans curled up in a coughing, rattling heap of bones. Grillby reached out a hand to comfort the hurting skeleton, "...and how long do you think he'd last without you?"
Sans pulled away from his hand the moment it made contact. His face was covered in tears and twisted with pain, emotional and physical. The partly-healed cracks around his shattered sockets had broken open once more, spider webbing up and over the dome of his skull to beyond the edge of Grilby's vision. His flames fell immediately, not that Sans could see.
"don't touch me."
Grillby shivered at the unwelcome return of Sans' dark tone, "Sans-"
"you don't get to say that. you d-d-didn't know him, not like me. he'd be fine. he didn't need me. you- you don't n-n-need me. no one needs me. why would they? i could just disappear and nobody would know. nobody would care. heh…"
Grillby was terrified now. No, no, no, not again, please, what had he done, no, no this, please...stars, he couldn't...he couldn't do this again. no, no no…
He reached out for Sans-
Sans jumped away, rattling loudly, "stop it," His bony hand reached out behind him to brace-
It collapsed into empty air. Sans tumbled off the bed, sickening cracks joining the thump of bone on carpet. Before Grillby could even move, Sans was standing again, unsteadily, but standing nonetheless. The broken skeleton backed away slowly.
Grillby's SOUL ached at the look on Sans' face, fury and pain and self-hatred and grief and rejection and the growing set of determination.
Grillby threw himself at the edge of the bed, legs and arms flailing beneath him - but he was too late. Without another word, Sans was gone. The door swung wildly in his wake, leaving only floating motes of dust behind. Sans was gone.
Sans ran down the corridor faster than he'd ever run before. His bones creaked with every lunge, but he ignored it. Dust swirled in the air as he passed, but he never saw. He ran on, blind and broken and tearing himself apart piece by piece, inside and out. He was stupid, he was and idiot, why did he think anything he did mattered at all?
If Grillby didn't want him, didn't need him, why should he stay? He'd be better off starving to death over and over in front of that bloody door.
His foot bit into a fuzzier patch of carpet than the rest, but he ignored it. It didn't matter. He didn't matt-
Sans' leg caught on the rim of MTT's fountain, long since shut off, leaving only a stagnant pool of water behind. He fell in, his skull meeting the golden bottom with a crack. Sans passed out, his sliver of determination clinging to a meager one millionth of an HP. Blue and red mixed with murky green and grey, spreading with the ripples that surrounded his crumpled form.