I found out that this site seemingly can support something called "Zalgo text" that I think really helps with the feel and look of this fic, but ultimately I decided to take it out of this mirror of it. It is frustrating when I can't use strike thrus, but I also wanted to have one mirror of this fic that is easily legible. For simplicity's sake wherever strike thrus and Zalgo text were used has been replaced with italics. If you want to read this fic as it was intended it is on AO3 under the same fic title and author name. Please enjoy!
Papyrus pauses in his work, his hammer falling silent in his grip as he looks up and out into the rain falling just outside the forge. Something's wrong. He knows it, feels it in the very culmination of his being, but he can't quite place what. The moisture heavy in the air is affecting the fire, but that's not it. The hour is growing late, but that's not it either.
"Papyrus! Mind your work!" The master blacksmith barks.
"Yes sir!" Papyrus dutifully bends back over the knife he's carefully making, the uneasy feeling that has his Soul in its grip pushed aside for now, but not forgotten. It curls about him as he sharpens the knife he just made, it creeps up his spine as he helps close down the forge for the evening, it dogs his steps as he runs home through the rain.
It's a relief to step into the tiny cottage he calls home. In the entryway he peels off his hood and coat, pulls off his boots, and walks into the rest of his house on stocking feet. It's cold and dark and empty. Well of course it is, no one would be fool enough to travel in this rain.
The thought causes Papyrus to pause mid-step, what does traveling in the rain have to do with his home being empty? The feeling of wrongness twines about his Soul and squeezes. His home is empty because it should be, no one else lives with him. He must be thinking of his neighbors, with weather like this they're less likely to stick their well meaning but overly curious noses into his business.
Papyrus nods to himself and continues on with his evening. He eats the cold dinner left waiting for him courtesy of… a neighbor perhaps? He didn't make it, and no one else lives here so it must be a kindness done for him by a neighbor. He finishes his meal, washes up his few dishes, then takes up the candle and heads for bed. Candles are expensive and he has to be up early the next morning, there's no reason for him to linger here in his empty kitchen and waste candle light. But as he is about to open the door to his room the one next to it catches his attention. He can't say why aside from the feeling of wrongness that hasn't left him yet, that feeling of something missing. Surely nothing could be wrong or missing, especially not in that empty room. Papyrus lives alone. Had since his parents died when he was a small child.
He finds himself slowly opening the door, thrusting the candle in first so he doesn't trip over anything in the completely empty room. The should be empty room that is instead full of stuff. Clothes litter the floor as if whoever they belong to had never heard of the invention of a chest. There's a pile of more clothes next to an old straw tick, alongside a basket full of spools of thread, a small cushion stuck with pins and needles balancing precariously on top. Papyrus sees a waistcoat on the floor, too short and not quite wide enough for him. Next to it is a stocking he daintily picks up like he expects it to suddenly turn into a snake and bite him. The thing is patched and darned and patched all over, the thing so short it won't even come up to his knee.
Papyrus drops the stocking and reels back, suddenly feeling dizzy or like the world just slipped out from underneath him. This can't be right, no one else lives here. They can't. He's alone. He's always been alone. Right? There's nothing missing. There's no one missing. There's nothing wrong!
He stumbles from the room and slams the door shut behind him. His mana is pounding through his leylines and he can't figure out why, the heaving of his ribs starts to slow. Why had he felt panicked? Had he felt panicked? Papyrus blinks and looks around the hallway, why is he standing in front of the empty bedroom that used to belong to his parents? He has to be up early, stoke the forge fire, help Muttler prepare for the day, work on any orders those who can't afford a master's work ask of him, help train the new apprentice that's taken his place now that he's finally, finally a journeyman. Too much to do, and all of it hard work. Papyrus makes up his mind to rest hard so that he can work hard the next day.
His sleep is restless, he tosses and turns as nightmares haunt his sleep, though he can't seem to recall what they were the next morning.
The feeling of something missing won't leave him even as he continues about his day. Papyrus doesn't understand it one bit, there's nothing wrong, there's no one missing, everyone in the village said so when he asked. He refuses to look at the empty room next to his when he gets home, it's a useless waste of space at the moment after all. While ignoring the useless, empty room he instead pulls the makings of a simple meal from his pantry and sits down to a cold dinner.
Half way through his meal the latch on the front door loudly gives way and someone stomps noisily in. Papyrus jumps to his feet and rushes to the door to see who would be so presumptuous as to enter his home uninvited. A familiar stranger is hanging up a cloak that's soaked through (strange, it hadn't rained that day) and pulling off dripping boots. They look up at Papyrus, a pair of familiar red eye pips set in a pair of too big sockets. A skeleton, like Papyrus. Strange, he hasn't seen any since his parents died. The stranger looks relieved to see him, a gentle grin sharp as a sickle across his face. All Papyrus can see is the glinting gold tooth, an extravagance no one in this whole village would waste their hard earned coin on.
"Hey, I missed ya," the stranger says with a weary, relieved sigh.
"Brother?" The world spins and tilts under Papyrus's feet. Does he have a brother? This skeleton looks so familiar but Papyrus is sure he's never seen them before. But Papyrus had been so young when their parents died, someone had to have looked after him… right?
"Sorry I took so long gettin' back, it started rainin' on the way."
"Right." It had rained the evening before. No one would be foolish enough to travel in the rain, surely he would have stopped to seek shelter on the way home from… from… "Did you get everything while in town?"
"Sure did," he motions to Whinny's saddle bags. Papyrus hadn't noticed them next to the door, they look fit to burst they're so full.
"Good, good." Papyrus swallows, still feeling strangely unbalanced. The feeling of something missing has lessened, but it's not gone. Anxiety swirls and spins in his Soul. He can't take it anymore and pulls his brother into a hug, choking back a sob. The pair stand like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms. Suddenly Papyrus is struck with the realization he's a little taller than his brother now, he has to hold back a laugh. "I missed you."
"I missed ya too, bro, more than ya could ever know."
Papyrus finally pulls himself together and leans back just enough to look down at his brother, "Are you hungry?"
"Nah, 'm just tired. Mind if we unpack in the mornin'?"
Papyrus looks down at his brother's face, noting for the first time his brother's blood red magic burnt into shadows under his sockets. He huffs, "I suppose. It was a long journey, but you had better do it first thing in the morning."
"Heh, sure thing, Boss."
Papyrus herds his brother to the empty room his room, where he just flops face first onto his bed without even bothering to take off his wet clothes. Papyrus shakes his head, "Really, Brother, you can't go to bed in wet clothes! You'll catch your death of a cold."
"Ok."
Papyrus huffs again, but sets about stripping his brother out of his wet clothes, the limp monster giving no resistance. "Where's the pendant I made for you?"
His only answer is a faint snore.
Papyrus shakes his head yet again, he must have decided to leave it off to keep it safe. Once his brother is into some dry clothes, Papyrus goes out to hang the wet clothes in the entryway. Hopefully most of them would be dry by morning. He cleans up after his dinner, then goes to bed himself.
Papyrus sleeps fitfully again.
In the morning he finds himself staring at the front door rather than getting himself some breakfast. Old Whinny's saddle bags are sitting by the front door for some reason, stuffed to bursting with Angel knows what. Next to his coat is a cloak, strangely wet despite yesterday being dry. There's clothes far to small to fit him hanging in the entryway as well. Something's wrong. Something's missing. Papyrus goes to the empty room next to his and slowly opens the door to peek in. There's a stranger sitting on the bed, rubbing one of their sockets.
"Mornin', bro," he mumbles through a wide yawn.
"Good morning, Brother." He looks his brother up and down, everything seems fine. He wonders at the fading panic clinging to his Soul. Perhaps he was worried because he was up first?
"How late is it, did I sleep in?"
Papyrus tilts his head, "A little, but you had a tiring evening."
"Well time waits for no monster." He gets up and scratches crudely at his coccyx, "C'mon, I can at least heat ya up a drink 'fore ya go runnin' off to work."
"I would like that," Papyrus replies earnestly and steps aside to let his brother lead the way to their little kitchen. Together they manage to quickly pull together a passable warm breakfast. While Papyrus eats, his brother gets together a cold supper for him and wraps it up in a sloppy bundle.
"That's right, gotta unpack," he grumbles to himself before setting the bundle down near Papyrus and then leaning in to kiss the side of his skull. "Have a good day, don't work too hard."
"I work exactly as hard as I need to!"
"Ya say that now, heh. Now scoot, we both got lots to do today."
Papyrus hops up and quickly kisses the side of his brother's skull with a triumphant "Nyeh heh heh!" before he obligingly scoots. His Soul feels much lighter as he runs to the forge.
He comes home to find a stranger in his home. They're bustling about the kitchen, the scents of warm food and heat of a lit oven a clear indication they'res cooking something. The bags Papyrus just remembered he hadn't gone through yet aren't by the door anymore, the clothes drying in the entryway are gone too. The noticeably smaller pile of clothes from the no̷t ̨e͏mp̨ty͘ room have migrated out to sit on the dining table. His brother looks up at Papyrus and smiles, "Welcome home."
"Thank you, Brother. What are we having for dinner?"
"Roast duck. The trip into town went so good I decided to splurge a li'l."
"You bought a whole duck while in town?" Papyrus sits down at the table, curious how that had worked out.
"Nah, got it from the Dogi. I finished their things with the supplies I bought."
"Oh, that makes sense."
"Here," a plate overflowing with meat, gravy, and roast vegetables all on a bed of thick, crusty bread is put down in front of Papyrus, "eat up."
"Thank you." Together the pair tucks into their meal. Papyrus finds his brother's already delicious cooking liberally seasoned with hunger after a hard days work and happily wolfs down his food. It's not until he's sopping up the remains of his gravy with the last bits of his bread that he realizes his brother had only eaten half of his and is morosely pushing the rest around his plate. "Are you not hungry?"
"Guess not."
Papyrus frowns, are the shadows under his eyes bigger? Darker? "Are you unwell? I warned you about sleeping in wet clothes."
"Nah, just did a lot of taste testing while I was makin' it. Don't worry." He sweeps up the plates and sets about putting what's left of dinner away.
While he does that Papyrus moves over to the sink and starts washing the dishes.
"What're ya doin'? I got this."
"You made dinner, I'm doing the dishes."
"Ya worked all day."
"And you didn't?"
He huffs, "Alright, have it yer way." He grumbles something about "bossy babybones" as he finishes putting their left overs away. Then he sits down at the table right in front of the pile of clothes and pulls the top piece off.
"Brother! You're not doing more work, are you?!"
"Someone's gotta darn and patch all these."
Papyrus growls, this old argument again! He turns to face his brother, "That someone doesn't have to be you. I'm a journeyman now, I can actually earn a wage. I'm more than capable of earning enough to support us both without you straining your eyes by candle light every night."
"Save yer earnin's, ya never know when ya might need 'em."
"Brother," Papyrus growls warningly.
"Bro," he shoots back just as warningly.
"At least stop taking on so much," Papyrus huffs. "You don't need to be up half the night working on clothes you're going to get paid a pittance for."
"That so called pittance kept us clothed and fed fer years!"
"Barely, and only until you managed to apprentice me to Muttler."
A growl, then he seems to deflate. "Fine. No more new orders 'til this pile is finished. Happy?"
Not good enough, but the best he'll get this day. "It'll have to do." Papyrus turns back to the dishes, scrubbing at them with all the anger that should rightfully be aimed at… at… someone. Is he even angry? He can't think of anyone he would be angry at. Or anything to be angry about. Strange. He breathes in, then out slowly, letting the nameless anger go. Once he feels calmer he turns back to the dishes, strange that there are so many for one meal by himself. When he finishes he turns around he very nearly starts at finding a complete stranger his brother sitting at the table, busily sewing away. "That's enough for now, don't you think"
"The night's still young."
"And we both have an early day, so put that aside for now and stop wasting candle light when you can just as easily work when the sun's up."
"Bossy, bossy." But he does put the sewing down and gets up to walk side by side with him to their rooms.
Muttler grumbles as he, Papyrus, and the apprentice finish closing up for the night. "Your teeth?" Papyrus asks.
"Yeah, it's gonna be a cold one tonight."
Papyrus just nods, the older monster always gets cranky when the weather first turns frosty, always complaining about how it makes his teeth and jaws ache.
"Sometimes I think I should just get the last of them pulled and have Ursa carve me a new set." He laughs as he makes this same old joke. He still has about half his teeth left, not bad for someone his age.
Papyrus blinks as something niggles at his memory. "What if you just made your own replacements?"
"Don't be daft, lad, who would waste good iron on false teeth that would be too heavy and uncomfortable to be actually useful?"
Papyrus scoffs, "There are other, lighter metals than just iron."
"Softer too, wouldn't hold up to a bite or fifty."
"Well wood rots and splinters."
"That it does, which is why you paint false teeth with a protective coating. But I think you have a point, maybe I'll wait another year yet on those. Now get on home, you're always huffy when you're tired and hungry."
Papyrus huffs, he'd argue but that would just prove Muttler right. Instead he snatches up a burlap sack full of Greater Dog's payment and heads off through the crisp evening air with his home as his goal. He arrives to find the kitchen window lit up. He panics and barges in.
"Huh? Wha? Bro! Didja jus' track mud on my nice, clean floors?!"
"Sorry, Brother," Papyrus says apologetically as he backs to the door to take off his boots.
His brother mumbles something about "enough work" and "even more blasted cleaning" under his breath. While that's going on Papyrus tries to calm his racing mana, wondering why he was panicking just a moment ago. Perhaps because rather than bustling about the kitchen like he normally was, his brother had instead seemingly fallen asleep at the table. Even now he's lethargically rubbing at his eye sockets and shaking himself more awake. Papyrus frowns, are the shadows under his sockets bigger and darker? With his shoes now off, he pads into the kitchen, lays aside the sack, and stills his brother's renewed bustling to lay a hand on his skull.
"Hmmm… you don't feel warm."
"Nooooo? But the kitchen is, I must've dozed off."
Papyrus glances over at the pile of sewing, it doesn't look any smaller than it did when he left that morning. He looks back at his brother, the shadows under sockets are definitely more pronounced, the color of old, dried blood. His bones have grown thinner, frailer, the mana that naturally gathers in their joints has faded, leaving him looking unnaturally pale. "You're that tired?"
"Kinda hard not to be this time of year."
"Sit," Papyrus orders as he takes up a towel, "it smells like dinner is already ready, and if you're that tired it's best if you don't burn yourself into the bargain."
"Always were such a bossy bones," he grumbles as he crosses his arms. The sack on the table must have caught his attention then because he opens it up and starts rummaging around even as he says, "What's this?"
"Just something Greater gave me for making him some new arrow heads. Seems he makes a poor huntsman, he's always losing his arrows." Whatever is in the oven is all in one dish and bubbling merrily. It seems he came home just in time. He quickly sets it aside and goes about grabbing plates, cutlery, mugs, and a jug of crab apple cider. It's not until he has their meal plated up and is setting it all out on the table that Papyrus notices his brother holding one of the crab apples he'd been given earlier, staring at it in complete astonishment.
"Well? Eat up," Papyrus orders as he sets a plate before his brother's seat.
Rather than sit, he takes a huge bite of the apple. Papyrus can't help cringing and staring in horror, wild crab apples are notoriously sour, only good for baking or stewing into jam. And yet his brother eats it and the five others in the bag ravenously, cores and all. Papyrus is still staring in open mouthed astonishment as his brother polishes off the last one, licking the juice from his fingers.
When he notices Papyrus's stare he blushes, "I uh… probably shouldn't've done that, huh? Woulda been better in a pie or jammed fer the winter or…"
"No!" Papyrus clears his throat, then tries to smile as gently as he can, "No, if it made you happy then I'm happy." And he really is, the shadows under his brother's eyes seem smaller, fainter. If only a little. If fresh fruit is what he needs to get better then that is what Papyrus will get him. Far easier and cheaper than trying to get a healer to come out to their tiny village. And all the easier in the fall, there is plenty to harvest and many a farmer would pay in freshly picked fruits and vegetables for barrel rings or to repair broken tools. Papyrus turns to his own food with a grin and digs in. It's his turn to take care of his brother, and he means to do it with a right will.
"Papyrus! I hear you're finished with the repairs." Dogaressa gives a doggy grin and a tail wag in greeting as she trots up to the forge.
"Hello, Dogaressa. And yes, your tools are finished." Papyrus pulls up the freshly repaired farming tools and holds them out for Dogaressa to inspect.
"Hmmm… I can see where the joins are."
"If you wanted new looking tools you should have ordered actual new tools."
"Muttler's repairs are near invisible."
"And a master's work costs a master's payment."
Dogaressa laughs and wags her tail again, "Good on you, pup! Don't let anyone hassle you." She holds up the basket that had until then been propped on her hip, "And here is a journeyman's payment."
Papyrus took the basket and curiously lifted the cloth covering it. An assortment of yams, gourds, and beets, some still covered in dirt, met his gaze. "Oh!"
"Ah, I know I should have made you something, but you know how busy harvest season is."
"No, this is perfect!" Papyrus can't quite remember why, but he knows that fresh is better. It doesn't make sense, he has no time to cook for himself, but he just feels that he wants raw foods.
"I'm glad. But I just realized, how will we get our things home?"
"Just a moment." Papyrus shoves the basket back at Dogaressa, not even pausing to make sure she has a grip on it before racing off. He comes back with a large burlap sack, "Muttler won't mind if I borrow this." Together they move the produce into the sack, then fill the now empty basket with all the tools that will fit.
"So you've been back in your parents' old home for a few months now," Dogaressa says conversationally as they work, "how are you managing?"
"It's been great!" Papyrus says eagerly. "It's been really nice to have a place to call my own."
"It must be lonely, isn't it? There all by yourself."
Papyrus bristles, though he has no idea why. She's not saying anything that isn't true.
"And no one to keep house either," she continues. "Heaven knows you can't keep up with cooking and cleaning all by yourself after spending the whole day hard at work in the forge. We really should find you a spouse." She looks Papyrus up and down, "Though I think you might be a bit young for that yet."
"I think I'm managing just fine on my own, thankyouverymuch!"
Dogaressa just laughs, "Well I'm sure you'll make some lucky monster a fine husband in a few years. Until then take care, and try not to be too much of a burden on your neighbors."
Papyrus curses, but Dogaressa just laughs as she trots away, tail wagging the whole time.
Muttler walks up and claps Papyrus on the back, "What've you got there, lad?"
"Payment," Papyrus says proudly. "Er, mind if I just take it home real quick?"
"If you think you have enough time to be running hither and yon and still get your day's work done."
Papyrus doesn't waste any time waiting around to ask if that's permission or not. He sprints the whole way home and is near breathless by the time he arrives. When he bursts through the door he's nearly knocked over by the overwhelming scent of cinnamon. He quickly slaps a hand over his face, for all the good that does, and rushes into the kitchen. He finds a skeleton standing on a stool before the stove, overseeing a steaming pot.
"Brother?"
"Huh? Oh, hey." A quick glance out the window, then he turns back to look up at Papyrus with a cocked brow, the rest of his expression hidden under a towel tied over his face. "Yer home pretty early."
"I just stopped by to drop this off," he motions with the sack. "What's going on?"
"Thought I'd stew those pears ya brought home the other day into a nice, spiced jam."
"How much spice did you put in? It smells really, really strong."
He seems to frown as he looks back at the bubbling pot, "I didn't think I added that much."
"Can't you smell it?"
He motions to the towel over his face.
Papyrus frowns, "Why are you wearing that?"
"The… the steam was makin' it hard to breathe."
"Brother! If you're having trouble breathing you should stop what you're doing immediately!" Papyrus puts his free hand to his brother's side and pushes him away from the stool. He stumbles a little as he steps down, but thankfully doesn't fall.
"B-Boss, what're ya-"
"You're ill!" Papyrus continues in an aggravated voice as he continues to push his brother all the way out of the kitchen. "You shouldn't be slaving over a hot stove all day."
"I'm fine! I toldya this thing protects me from the steam, an' I'm not so poorly I can't keep an eye on some stewing pears." He looks back into the kitchen, his shoulders drooping, "But does it really smell that strong? Did I ruin them?"
Papyrus sighs, of course that's what he would worry about. "I'm sure they're still fine, a stronger flavor just means it'll make a fine side dish."
"Maybe if I stew something else with barely any seasoning and mix the two. Apples maybe?"
"Brother," Papyrus growls warningly.
"I'll figure something out, and it was about time I started dinner anyway." He goes back into the kitchen and moves the pot off the stove to cool. "So what's in the bag anyway?"
"Oh yes! The payment," Papyrus eagerly lays out the bag so he can quickly dump the contents on the dinner table.
"These'll make good soups," his brother muses as he pokes and prods at the vegetables.
Papyrus huffs, "More spending all day in a hot, steamy kitchen."
"I got the windows open, the weather's nice out, it's… oh." He pauses to gingerly pick up a dark lump that had been mixed in with the beets and yams.
"What is it?"
"A truffle."
Papyrus hums as he considers it, "That's a bit rare, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"But it's a mushroom, right? You hate mushrooms."
"Never had a truffle before. Heh, who knows? Might be the only mushroom I like."
Papyrus isn't so sure about that, but his eyes happen to stray to the window behind his brother. "I should be getting back."
"Have a safe trip."
"Brother, I'm just going back to the forge."
"Have a good day then, what's lefta it."
"And you as well." Papyrus leans in to drop a kiss on the side of his brother's skull, then takes back up the bag and runs back to the forge. That sure took longer than he thought, he's not even sure why. It shouldn't take a whole quarter hour just to shove the latest addition into his pantry and run back. But there'd been something, hadn't there? Something to do with cinnamon? Had he spilled some and had to clean it up? That must be it. Papyrus shakes his head and goes back to focusing on his duties.
Dinner turns out to be pasta swimming in a creamy sauce with slices of truffle sprinkled on top. A rare indulgence, one that goes well with the equally rare truffle. They both try their first bite, Papyrus's face goes through several expressions that he's sure mirrors the ones on his brother's face. "It's very earthy."
"Yeah, like ya expect from a mushroom, but it don't got that weird mushroom texture."
They eat in silence for a while, both immersed in the experience of their meal. After watching the expressions flit across his brother's face for the whole meal Papyrus sighs, "Brother, you don't have to eat it if you don't like it."
"It's not… bad… just different."
"You keep making faces."
"Well it's not like I hate it but… ok, it's kinda weird tastin'. I thought truffle was supposed to be so good, but I think people just rave over it 'cause it's rare."
Papyrus snorts, "That sounds about right. Here, just give me your plate, you don't have to finish it."
"M'not gonna waste perfectly good food," he replies indignantly.
Papyrus sighs yet again, he'd said that about food that was barely even edible and made himself sick when they were children. Refusing to even throw it to the chickens just because back then they had next to nothing else in the house to eat and he felt they didn't have any food to waste on his failed attempts at learning to cook with no parents to teach him. "We aren't children anymore, we have a pantry overflowing with things to eat! No need to make yourself sick eating something you hate."
"I jus' said I don't hate it." He angrily shoves another bite into his mouth with a glare thrown Papyrus's way.
Papyrus just lets him, turning his attention to the last few bites of his own meal. "It really is good though, once you get used to it. And it goes well with the pasta."
"Yeah. Heh, maybe I did find the one mushroom I don't hate."
Papyrus does the dishes again, he isn't sure if it's a relief or a worry his brother has finally stopped arguing about letting him help with the chores. It is a relief to see his hands aren't shaking as he slowly passes the needle back and forth. Perhaps he had finally started to recover and would soon be back to his sarcastic, stubborn self.
"This is the last one from that pile."
"Is it?" Papyrus dries off his hands, then settles back into his seat to watch.
"Yup, just gotta finish darnin' this thing, then give it back to Bonnie."
"Then what?"
He's silent for a moment, seemingly concentrating too hard on his careful stitches to respond. Then he sighs, "Yer clothes're gettin' pretty worn too, an' mine could use some touchin' up. 'S a pretty poor tailor that can't keep his own family in decent clothing."
Papyrus should be happy, this should be wonderful news. The argument they'd been having ever since Papyrus was finally made a journeyman was seemingly being put aside for now. With Papyrus the clear victor, no less. Somehow it felt like a hollow victory. His brother should be fighting back, stubbornly refusing to listen. Or joking and punning until Papyrus is too fed up to deal with him. Or even just nodding along and then doing his own thing once Papyrus is out of sight. He shouldn't be just giving in and giving up like this.
How ill is he really?
"Ya ok there, Boss?"
"Yes, fine. Just… just a little tired is all."
"Go to bed then, no point stayin' up if yer jus' gonna stare at me the whole time."
"No need for you to stay up either."
"'M almost done, won't be long."
"It can wait until morning, when you aren't frittering away candle light." Papyrus crosses his arms and glares at his brother.
"uuuuuuuuuugh! Fine, be that way."
Papyrus can't help the smug grin as the sewing is set aside for the night. In the dark of his room he lays down in bed staring up at the ceiling, the feeling of worry and wrong still slinking through his Soul now nothing more than background noise he's learned to ignore. Everything and everyone is in their place, there's nothing and no one missing. That damn feeling can go choke on a pine cone!
In the dark hours of early morning, long before the sun will rise, something moving about the house wakes Papyrus. He strains his hearing in the dark, unsure at first why he woke, then he hears the floor creak and the rustle of fabric moving. Papyrus silently creeps from his room, peering into his dark house as he tries to spot what could be skulking about. The sound is coming from his kitchen. Some wild animal or nefarious monster is trying to pilfer his pantry! He stands firmly in the open pantry doorway, magic flaring bright as he summons several bullets he hopes he doesn't have to use.
Something neither monster nor animal is looming over one of the shelves, figure lit ghoulishly by the bullets, back bent and large head snapping to look right at Papyrus, unearthly glaring rings red as freshly spilled blood blazing in two deep, dark, empty voids, all sharp fangs and raking talons and harsh angles. Papyrus yelps and startles back, tripping over his own ungainly legs in the process.
"What the hell?!"
Papyrus winces at the familiar voice, looking up from where he'd fallen on his coccyx to see his brother standing on a chair inside the pantry, staring down at him in wide eye socket worry. "Brother? What-" He tries to sit up as he speaks and winces at what will surely bloom into a nasty bruise.
"Bro, what're ya doin'?" He steps down and offers a hand to help Papyrus up, which he takes and allows himself to be hefted up.
"I heard something skulking around."
"Ah, that was me. Sorry."
Papyrus rubs at his lower spine grumpily, "Why are you even out here?"
"I uh… got a li'l hungry. Just thought I'd get myself a snack."
"In the dark?" The only thing lighting up their kitchen is his bullets, which were quite honestly a ridiculous waste of magic that is going to have him too exhausted to work properly on the morrow if he doesn't do something about them. He dismisses all but one small bone to act as a meager light source.
"Didn't wanna wake ya."
"Well I'm awake now," Papyrus grouses, as one who got woken up in the middle of the night for seemingly nothing would be. Papyrus considers sitting down, then winces at the mere thought.
"Here, lemme…" He reaches towards Papyrus, green magic already sparking at his phalange tips.
"Don't you dare!" Papyrus barks with a glare thrown in for good measure. Papyrus is the better healer of the two even on his brother's best days, and right now is surely not a better day. He won't let his brother waste his magic while suffering from whatever illness he has.
"Alright, have it yer way." He holds up his hands in surrender, which is when Papyrus finally notices something clutched in one of them.
"What had you out here digging in the dark anyway?" Papyrus asks with a nod at the occupied hand.
"Oh uh… ya know, jus' hungry." If the sweat suddenly breaking out on his brow isn't suspicious enough, the hand suddenly shoved behind his back certainly is.
"Brother," Papyrus growls.
"Bro," he says back sweetly.
Papyrus crosses his arms and taps a stocking foot against the hard floor.
A deep sigh, "It's jus' a li'l something', was gonna go off in a day or two anyway." He holds out his hand to show the half used truffle.
"You came out here to eat the rest of the truffle?" He's boggled, that just doesn't make a lick of sense! The truffle is such a small little lump even before half of it went on their supper, what was left certainly wouldn't be enough to satisfy the kind of hunger that would drag a lazybones from his warm bed. But more importantly, "You hate mushrooms!"
"What can I say?" More sweat dripping down his face, eyes averted, "I had a cravin'."
"A… craving?" It's like several puzzle pieces snap into place, and Papyrus doesn't like the picture they make one bit. He pounces forward, grabbing his brother before he can dart away.
"What're ya?!"
Papyrus lifts his brother's shirt, heedless of his protests. His ribs are a dark void, no ecto tracing along ley lines crisscrossing over otherwise empty space, no sparking swirling magic, no telltale glow. There's no Soul.
"Papyr-" He bites back the rest of the name as he slaps Papyrus's hand away, then holds down his shirt as a bright red blush lights up his face. "What. The hell?!"
"There's no souling."
"You… I… WHAT?!" He sputters in shock, the blush only spreading and growing brighter. "Ya think I'm pregnant?!"
Papyrus feels his own face grow warm, a soft red glow bouncing off the kitchen around them. "You said you had a craving!"
"Everyone gets cravin's sometimes! Sheesh kid, overreactin' much?"
"Sorry, I just thought… sorry!" Papyrus has no idea what to do with himself, too embarrassed to think further than how he'd just manhandled his own brother.
"Jus' go back t'bed already," said brother growls. As if to back up his words he pulls the kitchen chair out of the pantry, kicks the door shut, storms past Papyrus into the kitchen, shoves the chair under the table, then stalks out of the room, grumbling the whole way.
Still burning with shame, Papyrus follows behind him back to their rooms. "I really am sorry."
"Yeah, I get that." He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, sounding as if the weight of the world has settled on his shoulders. "Listen, next time ya suspect somethin' just ask, ok? Don't go 'round flippin' up monsters' shirts. Yer old enough to know better."
"Yes, I won't."
"Ok, good." He stands there shuffling his feet for a moment, as if unsure what to say next. "G'night, bro, try to get a bit more sleep." There's a fondness to the order that tells Papyrus he's all but forgiven.
"Yes, I'll try. And you too."
It's Papyrus's day off and he's so excited. He has plans for today… he's pretty sure. Who wouldn't have plans for their day off? He just can't quite remember them right this moment, perhaps because he's just woken up and hasn't even gotten out of bed yet. He'll likely remember after he has a bite. Mind made up, Papyrus gets out of bed and dresses for the day. Once he's out of the room he pauses in the hallway. He should check the empty room next to his for… some reason. He thinks? Maybe that was part of his plan for the day? That must be it, perhaps he'll remember why once he looks.
He opens the door slowly and peeks in, his brother fast asleep in his bed. Papyrus can't help the fond smile, nor would he want to. He also can't help the pucker in his brow, it's so worrying just how much his brother is sleeping lately. Well it won't hurt to let him sleep a little longer, he shuts the door gently, careful to be as quiet as possible.
In the kitchen he sets about making breakfast, a mix of reheating the previous night's dinner and adding some fresh ingredients like a couple small bowls of berries swimming in cream. Papyrus stops short and stares down at the bowls he had just poured the cream into, why t̢w̵͏o̴? Was… was he expecting someone?
"'Mornin'," a sleepy voice slurs, accompanied by the slap of bony feet against a wood floor.
Papyrus tuns to smile at his brother, "Good morning. I was just about finished getting breakfast ready. Sit."
He sleepily obliges, slumping in the nearest chair as Papyrus sets down the plate of stew with a freshly toasted slice of bread and the bowl of berries. Then Papyrus sits down to his own portion and tucks in.
Papyrus frowns, noticing the way his brother is moodily pushing his food around with his spoon. "What's wrong? Aren't you hungry?"
"Nothin's wrong, just wakin' up is all." He sits up straighter and promptly scoops up a large bite, hesitates, then shoves the whole spoonful in his mouth like a monster being forced to eat something unpleasant.
Just like how he ate his meal last night. And the night before.
"If you don't like it you don't have to eat, we have plenty to choose from in the pantry."
"It's fine, don't worry 'bout it." He forces himself to eat a large bite of the berries next, like he hopes he can finish faster by taking larger bites.
Papyrus sighs, but doesn't continue the fight. He doesn't drop it either, instead as he finishes his own meal and watches his brother wince and choke down food he wonders if it's another symptom of whatever strange illness has infected him. Perhaps it's less that he doesn't like the food and more that he simply has no appetite and is forcing himself to eat anyway. Better than starving to death, but still not good. Papyrus looks his brother up and down, from his thin, frail bones to his dull, lightless joints to his weak, trembling hands to the deep shadows under his sockets, growing ever larger and dark, darker, yet darker. No, his brother isn't well at all, whether the stubborn pile of bones wants to admit it or not. He needs to go visit a healer, no matter how expensive they can be. Likely why he's trying so hard to hide his poor health.
Something Papyrus would bring up later, perhaps even later today, right now they don't need another fight. He lets the silence lie until after the morning's dishes are washed and put away. "So, what are the plans for today?"
"Whatever ya want, Boss, it's yer day off."
"I want you to take a day off with me."
He chuckles, "Encouragin' my lazy ways? There's way too much to do today: there's that goose to cook, the pork to salt, yer clothes to mend and launder, not to mention I've gotten awfully behind on housecleanin'…"
"You need a break as much as any other monster, and if we both take today off we can take it off together!"
"Heh, alright, whaddya wanna do?"
"Hmmm… I think some fresh air would do us both some good, how about a ramble through the woods?"
"W-what?!" If his face weren't already pale it surely would have gone pale right then.
"We can go through that patch of trees between here and the Bun family farm, if we're lucky we might find some wild berries, and I hear there's a spring in there somewhere."
"No."
Papyrus stops short, his brother hadn't used that tone of voice in quite a long time. "Brother?"
"Not the woods. Never the woods."
"What's wrong with the woods?"
"It's not safe."
"Not safe? Brother, I'm not talking about following Greater Dog out into the deep woods where deer and wolves roam, just a bit of brush and trees between farms."
"No, just don't! Don't ever go in the woods, especially not alone, you hear me? Just don't."
He took in his brother's harsh glare, his trembling form, just how hard he is gripping the table, "Alright, I won't."
"Good. That's… that's good."
Awkward silence falls between them, one confused and the other visibly trying to calm himself back down.
"We could jus'… take a walk 'round town instead. If ya want."
"That sounds like an excellent idea," Papyrus says a little too cheerfully. "Come! Let's go get ready."
"Ready how?"
"Why getting dressed, of course," Papyrus answers even as he herds his unresistant brother towards their rooms.
"What's wrong with what we're wearin' now?"
"It's getting colder, there's frost on the ground! I won't have you catching a chill."
"Heh, the cold don't bother me, it jus' goes right through me."
Papyrus ignores the pun in favor of glaring down at his brother, "Jacket and sturdy shoes. Or else."
"Sure thing, Boss." He winks before ambling through his bedroom door.
Papyrus excitedly rushes to his own room to get ready, a light jacket and a scarf enough to keep the wind off him yet. Truly he doesn't need them, it's just as uh… that is… who? His parents? Well someone said the cold doesn't affect skeletons the same way it does fleshy monsters, and while that's true the cold most certainly doesn't help either.
He's just finishing lacing up his boots when he hears a door in the house close. Strange, there shouldn't be… "It took you long enough." He looks his brother up and down, a hood, a sturdy jacket, and even a pair of gloves. Papyrus nods, "That will do."
"Glad you approve." He plops coccyx first onto the floor and grabs his first shoe to shove his foot into. Papyrus reaches to help tie it on, his brother hisses. "I can do it myself!"
"It'll be faster this way."
He grumbles, but relents. And then they're off! Out the door and walking down the lane to get to the clearing that acted as their tiny village's "town square." Along the way they greet any passing neighbors. "Hey, Paprika."
"Well hey there yourself… uh…" She looks them over, her face flashing with confusion before clearing up, "If it isn't the Skeleton Brothers, how're you both doing?"
"We're doing excellently," Papyrus answers excitedly. "It's my day off and I decided to force my brother to spend it with me."
"I'm not bein' forced."
"That's good, you look like you need a break. Uh… I mean, you both do!" Paprika's long ears fall as she cringes, "Oh! You know what I mean!"
"How're the sibs?"
"Still squabbling," Paprika says eagerly, flashing them a grateful smile before rolling her eyes as she continues. "Just this morning Basil teased Anise and Ginger until they were both crying. Then Poppy and Saffron were fighting over the same doll, it turned into a tug of war and… well, you can guess how that ended."
Papyrus could admit, to himself if no one else, that he quickly grew bored of standing around listening to his brother and Paprika go on about what being an older sibling was like and the intricacies of housekeeping. His eye sockets drift, ready for anything to take his attention away from the boring conversation. "Oh! Hello, Dogaressa."
"Hello, Papyrus," she greets with a tail wag, her arms full with a covered basket. "And I see… uh… your brother is with you today."
"Yes! We decided to go for a little walk, he's barely stirred from the house for weeks."
"It does feel like I haven't seen him in forever. So how are the two of you?"
"We're both fine, thank you."
"That's good, I had thought… well, I suppose it's of no consequence. It was good seeing you, but I've got to run these over to Doge."
"Good luck," Papyrus says cheerily as he waves Dogaressa off. It seems Paprika has finished chatting as well, he turns back just in time for her to wave and continue on her way. They continue on their own way as well, saying a quick greeting to other neighbors too busy to stop and chat. And then they run into someone. Quite literally.
"Whoa there, watch where yer goin'."
"Sorry!" Roger blurts as he hops to his feet and dusts himself off.
Papyrus is dusting his brother off, the other hadn't fallen over but that had looked like quite the hit. "Are you okay?"
"'M fine, not like I'm made of straw or nothin'."
"Well if you're okay and I'm okay, then we're all okay." Roger readies to dash off again.
"Wait!" Papyrus reaches towards Roger, then stops once he actually has the other's attention. "It's been so long since we last really spoke, how've you been? Are you nearly a journeyman too?" Papyrus tries not to bounce in place, he's not a little child anymore, but since Roger was the only other monster close to Papyrus's age who had been apprenticed to a craftsman rather than having to help out on the family farm, Papyrus felt a kinship with Roger he hadn't been able to indulge in since moving back out to the edge of their tiny village.
"It has, hasn't it?" Roger gives Papyrus a sharp toothed smile, then it and his long ears droop. "But I'm supposed to be running errands, I haven't any time to stop and hang out. But if you help me and I get done faster you can have all the time you saved me."
Papyrus is about to agree, then he pauses and looks over at his brother.
"Go on, I'd jus' slow the two-a ya down."
"But it's our day off together."
"We don't gotta spend the whole day together, bro. Go on, go spend some time chattin' up yer friend an' I'll go make us some supper. We can hang out more when ya get back."
"Well, alright. I'll be back in a bit."
"Have fun, see if ya can wrangle us up some more gossip while yer at it."
Papyrus scoffs, then he and Roger scamper off to go take care of his list of errands. By the time their rushing about comes to an end the sun is high in the sky, they're sitting down in a hidden spot on the edge of the Rabbit family garden, munching on some tarts Roger's mother had given them. Papyrus is having a grand time, enjoying just nattering away with Roger, even if most of it is them just griping about Muttler and Ursa.
By the time he's ready to head home it's grown quite late, but he'd also worked up quite an appetite that would do the supper waiting for him justice. Why he hadn't brought it with him (or indeed, what his supper even was) he can't recall, but he knows a nice supper is waiting for him at home.
Papyrus walks into the kitchen to find his brother sound asleep at the table, skull pillowed on his arms, two plates with a cold supper on them sitting next to him. "Brother?" Papyrus calls softly as he can, a gentle hand on his brother's skull.
"Mmm… whu?"
"You fell asleep," Papyrus more asks than says.
"Huh, guess I did." He sits up and yawns while stretching, then absently rubs at one socket as he looks up at Papyrus. "Ya have a nice time out an' about?"
"Yes, though I'm sorry I took so long to make it back home."
"Nah, I'm glad ya had fun. I uh… kinda already ate, but yers is still waitin' fer ya."
Papyrus looks down at the two plates, then back at his brother with raised brow. "You already ate? Really?"
"Oh, huh. Guess I dreamed it up, heh."
"Well you're awake now and can relive the dream by eating for real."
"Wouldn't dream of doin' anythin' else."
Papyrus sits down next to his brother, happy to relay his day with Roger as they both eat. As with at breakfast he grimaces with every bite and eventually resorts to just pushing the last half around and around on his plate. Papyrus grimaces himself, but tries not to show it.
After supper is eaten and the dishes washed they both pull out something to keep their hands busy for the rest of the afternoon. Papyrus pulls out a knife and the tree branch Roger had given him with the intent of carving it into a long spoon, while his brother has a couple of Papyrus's shirts that need repairs. It's a nice way to spend the rest of the afternoon, comfortably talking with his brother as they work, and even when they run out of things to talk about just spending the time side by side is nice. Or it is until his brother's head starts to nod, it seems talking was the only thing keeping him alert.
Papyrus lays a hand on the other's shoulder, "Brother."
"Huh? Oh, heh, musta dozed off, the kitchen's so nice an' cozy. Think it's 'bout time to get started on dinner, though. It's gotten a bit late, hope ya don't mind jus' warmin' a li'l somethin' up." He stands, ready to start bustling about their kitchen like nothing's wrong.
"Brother, you said to just ask if I ever thought something was wrong."
"Yeah, I did," he replies absently, his head in the pantry.
"You're not well." It's not really a question, but it seems like the best starting point.
"Ya've said so a few times." His voice is pretty neutral, noncommittal, blank, but his shoulders slump as he steps away from the pantry and sits back down at the table.
Papyrus leans forward in his seat to take his brother's hands in his own, "You know what's wrong."
"Yeah, yeah I do." He lets out a heavy, weary sigh, his pips trail to the window, "Don't know if I was tryina fool ya or me with that "everythin's fine" act. Sometimes I wondered why I was still here at all."
Papyrus felt a chill crawl up his spine and represses the urge to shudder. "What do you mean?"
"I'm jus' hurtin' us both by stickin' 'round where I don't belong anymore."
"Brother! What do you mean?!" Papyrus didn't understand, didn't want to understand, couldn't understand. "Where else would you belong?!" His mind gropes for answers, jumping from possibility to possibility before his brother can answer. "You mean go into town and see a healer there? I know they're expensive, but I've been saving up."
"No, bro, none of the healers can help me. Not with this."
Papyrus feels cold all over, "So… to the city?" He asks timidly, "To a doctor?"
His brother shakes his head.
"I know that would be horribly expensive," The trip alone would take days just to arrive, the cost of keeping himself fed and housed along the way would be equal to seeing a healer, let alone the cost of an actual doctor, not to mention Papyrus's lost work if he went with his brother. They couldn't afford that, not in their wildest dreams, "but… but I'm a blacksmith! Surely I can do something to earn us the money for it."
He shakes his head harder this time, "That ain't it, bro. C'mon, think it through."
"Why not just tell me what's wrong?!"
Instead of being frightened of Papyrus's outburst, or frustrated with his inability to guess, he looks more relieved. "I can't, bro, that's part of the problem."
"Well why not?"
"He told me I can't, it's the rules." He's looking up at Papyrus with such big, hopeful sockets, even as the grip Papyrus has on his hands turns so harsh their bones squeak as they rub together. Papyrus quickly drops them.
"Who? What? Brother, tell me what's going on, please!"
"I can't, I really can't. C'mon, li'l bossybones, you can figure this out."
"If I could figure it out without you telling me I would have figured it out long ago!"
He sighs and slumps in his seat, "Yeah, I thought so. But I still hoped… jus' kept hangin' 'round even though it's hurtin' ya. I can see it, the way yer fightin' it whenever I'm not right in fronta ya. Hurtin' us both with the way I'm slowly fadin' away, you'd be better off if I jus' went back."
"What? No! Back where?! Back to whoever is doing this to you? Don't! You can't! I won't let you!" He pulls his brother into a tight, panicked hug.
"Hush, sssshhhhh," he gently pats Papyrus's back and murmurs softly in his rough voice, "Don't get yerself so worked up over somethin' ya won't even remember."
"Of course I'll remember, don't say that! And don't go, please don't go. I miss you, even when you're here I still miss you, I couldn't bear it if you were gone."
"Alright, alright, it'll be okay. Hush, li'l bro." He starts rocking, like Papyrus is just a small child again wailing over their parents' deaths. Papyrus gives out one sob, then quiets to sniffles and huffs as he holds the rest back. Once he's calmed down a little his brother pushes him back just enough to look him straight in the eye socket. "I won't go on one condition."
He wanted to blurt out "Anything!" but years of his brother's warnings finally seemed to catch up to him as he cautiously asked, "What is it?"
"Say my name."
"Your… name…?" Papyrus asks skeptically.
"Yes, tell me my name. Ya haven't said it once since I got back from town, haven't seemed to even notice it either."
"It's… you're… your name… is… I…"
He sighs, "Heh, I figured as much." His voice is distant, like he's not even talking to Papyrus anymore, "It's been weeks an' I'm still just hangin' 'round like ya'll suddenly realize it all on yer own. One week shoulda been enough, don't know why he bothered givin' me 'til solstice."
Solstice? What is his brother even talking about? A time limit of some kind? He has a little over a month then, he can still fix things. "Your name… I should… I should know it!"
"Ya should, bro."
"You haven't said my name either," Papyrus says suddenly, the realization an absurd one in the middle of this nonsense, but it seems related. Maybe if he has another clue he can figure all this out.
His brother looks proud, "Right, I haven't. It's 'cause I'm scared what he'll do with it if I do."
"That doesn't even make sense, what can he do with a name? Why can't I remember yours? You're my big brother, I've known your name longer than my own. How can… I couldn't have just forgotten it!" The shadows around them seem to grow darker, longer, stretching from the corners and reaching for them both like terrible claws. "Ever since you came back from town. Late. This whole time I've felt something's missing, but you're here. You're right here."
"I am, but at the same time I'm not."
"No!" Papyrus slams his hand down on the table. "No! I refuse! You're here! No one's missing! Nothing's missing! And I'm not letting you go!" Papyrus blinks his eyes open, not even remembering closing them. His brother sits in the chair next to him, looking thinner and frailer than ever, a defeated droop to his shoulders. "I… uh…" He looks down at his hand, it's stinging for some reason. "What were we just talking about?"
"How late it's gettin', 'bout time to start dinner, yeah?"
"Oh." It had grown quite dark, the shadows thick and inky black in the corners despite the sun still being a little ways from setting. "I suppose that's what happens when we have such a late supper."
"Guess so."
"Here, I'll go see if I can scrape us up a little something to eat before bed." Papyrus stood up, ignoring the way his knees wobbled dangerously.
"Sounds good, bro."
Papyrus smiles, though for some reason it feels fake.
The next morning Papyrus is surprised to hear someone in the kitchen, but also relieved? That doesn't make sense, and who would be in his house so early in the morning? He goes to investigate.
It's just his brother making breakfast. Papyrus feels surprised and relieved all over again for some reason. "Brother! You're up?"
"Yeah, guess goin' to bed a bit early did me some good. Thought I'd warm us up a li'l somethin' 'fore ya went to the forge today."
"Right, yes, that makes sense." That must be where the strange feelings are coming from, it's been over a fortnight since his brother last woke before him. Overcome by the strange feelings, he pulls his brother into a hug, "I'm glad you're here."
"Yeah, thanks." He pulls Papyrus in tight and just snuggles his face into Papyrus's shoulder. The hug lingers, perhaps for a little longer than normal, but for some reason Papyrus doesn't want to ever let go. "Yer breakfast's gonna get cold."
"Right, right. I have work today." Papyrus reluctantly lets go, then sits down as his brother places a warm meal in front of him. Then he goes back to the stove. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"I ate already." He turns back to grin at Papyrus.
"Alright." As he eats Papyrus watches his brother bustle about the kitchen, bundling up a supper for him, banking the stove, washing the dishes, putting things back in their homes. He has an energy about him that's been missing, the shadows under his eyes have faded to be barely noticeable, his hands steady, his joints warm and flush with mana. Though his bones are still thin and his shoulders sag, Papyrus hopes all this is a sign that his brother has finally gotten past whatever illness had been dragging at him, that he's on the road to recovery.
"So I was thinkin' 'bout things an' maybe ya should think about movin' back in with Muttler."
"What?! Why? I'm not his apprentice anymore, and what's wrong with living here? With you?"
"I'm not sayin' ya gotta, jus'… jus' if somethin' ever happened to me."
"Nothing's going to happen to you!"
"Stuff happens to people all the time, bro, nothin' we can do 'bout that. I jus' wanna know yer gonna be okay."
"But… but you're doing so much better today! Aren't you? Why would you talk about anything happening to you?"
He sighs deeply, his shoulder sagging even more, like he's holding the weight of the world on them. "I am, bro, I am doing better. I'm gonna be okay, everythin's gonna be okay. But hey, aren't ya gonna be late if ya don't get goin'?"
Papyrus grumbles, but gets up. "We're not done talking about this."
"Sure, sure." He follows Papyrus to the door, cold supper in hand and fidgeting as he watches him put on his coat, hood, and boots.
Papyrus pulls him in for just one more hug before taking his supper, "I'll be home for dinner."
"Dinner'll be waitin' fer ya."
Papyrus nods, then opens the door.
"Goodbye, bro."
Papyrus gives one last wave, then shuts the door behind him. He has a long day ahead of him, but at least he enjoys said work. And he has a pack supper again, it's so nice that… that… the neighbors? are kindly putting one together for him in the morning. And a dinner when he gets home too! Papyrus doesn't know how he'd take care of himself all by himself, but he doesn't have time to ponder such an unlikely scenario right now. He lengthens his strides to get to work on time.
It's late in the day, almost time for him to help close down the forge for the evening and head home, when something awful happens. He's helping Muttler make nails, the apprentice still too new to do more than pump the bellows, when the world seems to tilt wildly and spin. He stumbles and shudders, confused and scared for no apparent reason.
"Papyrus!" Muttler barks in alarm, "What's wrong, lad? Stand up, don't stumble about with hot iron and coals everywhere!"
"I… I don't… something's wrong." Papyrus puts a hand up to his skull, careful of the tools he's holding.
Muttler sighs, "Perhaps I pushed you too hard today. Go on inside, the missus can see to ya. Buster and I can close up on our own today."
"No, I can't… I need to go home."
"Back to that empty house? With you shaky as a newborn lamb?" Muttler clucks his tongue disapprovingly.
"Yes. No. I mean… it's not… but it is? I need to go home."
"Lad, you're not thinking clearly." The blacksmith sets aside his own tools and comes around the anvil with outstretched hands.
"No! I need to go home!" Papyrus hastily puts down his own tools and bolts from the forge. He runs the whole way home, his Soul thrumming fiercely and his breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps, though he doesn't know why.
He finally bursts through his front door and tromps inside, boots tracking ash and mud on the freshly washed floors. The house is empty. There would be no one to scold him for tracking dirt everywhere, and there shouldn't. Right? The kitchen is clean and empty, the stove fire banked down to mere embers, every pot, pan, and spoon in its rightful place.
Someone's missing. But who? There's no one to be missing.
He wanders back towards the bedrooms. He passes by his own door without a thought, it would be just as he left it this morning. But the other door… the room that's empty and has been forever and always for hours since his parents died for years for... for...
He pushes the door open to find a neat, tidy room. Not a speck of dust or any must to be found, clothes tidily packed away, bed perfectly made. And why wouldn't it be? No one else lives here.
Something glints on the bed. Papyrus steps in to get a better look, it's a familiar pendant. As it should be, he made it himself back when he went from just pumping the bellows or making a few chisel marks as Muttler worked to actually making things himself. His very first creation: a simple medallion with the old Delta Rune carefully worked into it, and a little loop on top to lace the leather thong through. A simple protective charm he'd proudly presented to his older brother when he'd finished it.
Papyrus sits on the bed as he stares down at the pedant in his hands, he hadn't thought about his brother in… in a while. When he'd last seen him he'd been very ill, so frail and weak and tired all the time. When had he died? Papyrus isn't entirely sure, it couldn't have been too long ago or he wouldn't still have a house to claim as his own when he'd become a journeyman. And yet it feels like he'd been gone for a long, long time.
He slips the pendant over his skull and lets it fall to where it rests naturally, hanging just past the bottom of his sternum. It feels right there, like the memory of a hug he hadn't felt in far too long.
Papyrus gets up and softly walks to the door. He'll have to scrub the dirt he tracked in, but for now it's best if he takes his boots off before he tracks it anywhere else. It was rather silly of him, running home because he suddenly missed someone who's long been dead. But then he seems to be rather silly lately, stubbornly trying to live alone in a house he can't properly care for. Hadn't his brother said he should keep living with Muttler? Perhaps he should, living alone in an empty house with nothing but dusty memories for company is clearly affecting him. He could almost swear he'd seen his brother just this morning, but that couldn't be. He turns to close the door behind him, looking over the empty room one last time.
"Goodbye, Brother."