Chapter 37 – Nightmares

Papyrus tossed and turned in a restless sleep, dreaming again.

He was kneeling on the couch in his old house in Snowdin, but things looked different. Toys and crayons littered the floor, and pictures of himself and Sans hung on the wall—only he and his brother were not adults in these photos, but young children.

A door slammed upstairs, and a faceless being came down to the first floor. He (Papyrus had a strange feeling it was a "he") wore a gray turtleneck and black pants, and had one large hole in each of his hands. The being paused in front of Papyrus on his way across the living room, and Papyrus got the feeling he was smiling at him.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" the being asked.

Papyrus did not answer verbally; he only flopped back onto the couch with a big grin on his face. It felt as though he really liked whoever this being was.

"You silly goober—" The being reached over and tickled Papyrus under the chin, causing him to giggle uncontrollably and turn over to try and get away. After a few more seconds, the being swept him up into his arms and carried him into the kitchen. "It's almost dinnertime, Papyrus. Is there anything you would like to eat?"

Papyrus scrambled down from the being's arms and crawled across the floor to a cabinet, where he pulled out a bag of caramel cream candy.

"No, we're not having candy for dinner. If you eat well, you can have some for dessert. Let's see…" The being went over to a different cabinet and brought out a box of pasta. "I just bought these new noodles a few days ago. See? They look like curlicues. Would you like that?"

Papyrus nodded excitedly, though he still clutched the bag of caramel creams, hoping to sneak one when the being wasn't looking.

His brother Sans wandered into the kitchen. "Hey, Dad, whatcha makin'?"

Dad? Oh, yes, that was right. The being was his father! Papyrus dropped the bag of candy and launched himself across the floor, latching onto his father's leg and almost bringing him down in the process.

"Goodness, Papyrus! You almost had me on the floor there. We're having rotini pasta for dinner, Sans. Why don't you set the table and help Papyrus get his hands washed?"

"Come on, Pap." Sans bent over and hooked his arms around Papyrus's chest to pull him up. Papyrus, who liked being held, did not object.

It wasn't long before the pasta was finished cooking and the little family sat down to dinner. When they were finished, the being washed the dishes while Sans and Papyrus played in the living room. After a while, the being came into the living room. "Bath time, Papyrus."

Papyrus stood up from his spot on the floor and jumped around. Bath time was one of his favorite times of the day.

The being gave him a bubble bath and dressed him in his pajamas. "Sans, get your shower and I'll read you and Papyrus a story before you go to sleep," he directed.

Within twenty minutes, both boys were tucked into bed in the room they shared as the being read Peekaboo with Fluffy Bunny to them. He then kissed them and told them he would see them in the morning. Soon enough, Papyrus went to sleep.

He woke up briefly in the middle of the night when voices he barely recognized hissed at each other in the room. He saw Sans struggle in someone's arms before another person held something up against Sans' face, and he went limp. Papyrus didn't even have time to scream before a kerchief with a sickly-sweet smell was held against his own face, and everything went black.

From there, the dream changed.

It had nowhere near the amount of detail it had had previously. All Papyrus knew was pain, and bright lights, and harsh voices. Wherever he was, he couldn't move. He could only feel the prick of needles, the cracking of his own bones…

And occasionally, in a dark room with the only light coming from down a hallway, he could hear the raucous laughter of someone who was touching him… somewhere he didn't want to be touched.

Sans' sobbing voice broke through the darkness—"Leave him alone—stop it—don't touch him!"

And then he was running—running alongside the faceless being and his brother—but then the being was falling, falling into waves of gold and white, and Papyrus could not save him.

That was when he finally woke up.

For a few minutes, Papyrus could not quantify everything he was feeling. There was a sense of longing, as if he missed someone dearly. He felt frightened and alone, and his bones ached as though he'd been freshly wounded.

And there was that awful feeling of having been violated again, that feeling he hadn't had since he was about thirteen and that had only been somewhat recently resurfacing for some reason.

He couldn't remember why he was feeling any of this, though. The details of the dream were rapidly disappearing from his mind, leaving him with nothing that would help him understand.

For a brief moment he considered waking Sans, but quickly decided against it—Sans wouldn't tell him anything.

Papyrus faced his clock—almost noon.

Almost noon?

Papyrus had never gotten up this late in his life. At least, not since he was a teenager.

He headed down to the kitchen, feeling rather sour. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he shot at Sans, who was sitting the table with a piece of toast.

"Hello to you, too."

Papyrus sat across from him and glared.

"Well, I did think it was kinda weird. But I know you have problems with sleeping. Figured if you weren't up yet, you needed it."

Papyrus had about a million retorts to that, but he didn't voice any of them.

"Anyway—Tori called about an hour ago. Frisk wants us to come over. Since you were still asleep, I said we were a little busy, but we'd come when we could," Sans continued.

"I see," Papyrus said shortly. "I'll get dressed, then."

"Want any breakfast?"

"Not hungry."

Papyrus put on his battle body slowly, trying to consciously think about everything he was doing so he wouldn't focus on what little he could remember of the dream he'd had. Still, words and phrases kept interrupting his thoughts. Sweetheart. They look like curlicues. Don't touch him.

Don't touch who? Papyrus wondered. He had a nasty feeling "him" was referring to his own self, but why?

He forced himself not to think about it.

Papyrus tried not to let his bad mood show when they arrived at Toriel's, but he must not have done a very good job of it, because when he and Sans were about to join the kids in the living room, Toriel waved Papyrus over and led him to the library, where they sat on the couch.

"Papyrus, dear, you are looking rather worn again," she said, concern clearly showing on her face. "Have your nightmares not abated?"

Papyrus really didn't want to talk about it, but he knew somebody would eventually push him until he said something anyway; he figured if he had to tell someone, Toriel was more likely to be sympathetic than most. "No, they haven't," he admitted. "I had a… particularly interesting one last night. The only trouble is, I can't remember much…" And most of what he did remember, he wasn't sure he'd be comfortable telling anyone.

He tried to remember the other feelings he'd had when he'd woken up. "Do you… ever feel like you miss someone, but you can't remember who it is?"

"I cannot say that I have." Toriel shifted her position slightly. "However… in the past year that we have been on the surface, I have heard Asgore express such thoughts. I will admit that originally, I simply thought his mind was going… if boss monsters live long enough, even without children to make us age, our mental functioning can deteriorate… but you are far too young to have such any such thing happen to you." She smiled. "Perhaps you should speak to him about that."

Papyrus really didn't want very many people to know about his nightmares, but if he wanted answers, he supposed he would have to make sacrifices. "Maybe I will, then," he murmured.

Toriel frowned. "Papyrus, my child… you do not seem yourself. You have not for quite a while now, in fact."

Papyrus had no idea what to say to that. In truth, he really wasn't feeling himself. Not since the incident with Tyler at work and the fight he'd had with Sans over money. He hadn't talked with Sans extensively since then, either—he only said good morning or yelled he was going to work. Otherwise, when he wasn't doing house- or yardwork, he holed up in his room, only leaving to take a dose of his medication when it was wearing off. Sans hadn't bothered him once.

"Papyrus?" Toriel prompted quietly, and he realized he'd been silent too long.

And yet, he felt at a total loss for words. He shrugged listlessly.

"My child… you are worrying me." A deep V had formed between Toriel's eyebrows. "I have never seen you like this. Please, I know that something is greatly bothering you. You may tell me what it is. I would like to know, so I can help you. Please."

Irritation seared through Papyrus's chest. Beyond the fact that she had called him her child twice now, he didn't have the first clue how to talk about anything he was experiencing. How was he supposed to tell someone he felt violated that way? Especially when they rarely took him seriously in the first place?

But the way Toriel was looking at him now… it made Papyrus feel like she meant it when she said she wanted to help.

"I think someone… hurt me," he started out slowly. No need to get into what details he knew right now. "But… I can't remember who it was, or what exactly they did… I just know it made me… makes me feel bad."

Toriel was silent.

When Papyrus glanced up, she was gazing at him intently—so much so that there was no doubt in Papyrus's mind she'd discerned what kind of hurt it was. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you remember when this was?" Toriel asked finally. Her voice seemed artificially calm.

Papyrus shrugged. "A long time ago. I had… similar dreams to the ones I have now when I was twelve or thirteen."

Toriel's paw, which had been resting on her knee, contracted, and she pursed her lips.

Papyrus suddenly regretted saying anything.

"Papyrus, dear… you do realize this kind of thing is very concerning?" Toriel asked gently.

Papyrus bit back a retort. Of course he knew it was concerning; that should have been obvious from his behavior.

"We need to take this seriously. Perhaps you should see a psychotherapist," Toriel suggested.

"I don't need help!" Papyrus burst out, causing Toriel to lean back in surprise. "I'm fine. I don't have any problems getting things done. These dreams are nothing but a distraction, that's all."

"My child, you—" Toriel sighed. "You clearly have a problem. What if the dreams do not go away soon? You cannot possibly keep going like this. You will hurt yourself dreadfully."

I'm not your child, Papyrus thought savagely, but he didn't say it out loud, not wanting to hurt her feelings. However, he did have a great desire to end this conversation. He stood. "I'm going to see where Frisk and Flowey are."

Toriel watched him leave the library, her face greatly troubled.

Papyrus found Sans sleeping on the living room couch. Hearing the children yelling outside, he opened the back door and saw Frisk and Flowey throwing a small ball back and forth.

"Hey, Papyrus!" Flowey called and waved with a leaf. Frisk tossed the ball in the skeleton's direction.

Papyrus caught it deftly and came forward. "Hello, you two! What have you been doing today?" he said, masking his bad mood with an air of cheerfulness.

"We played Minecraft earlier. Frisk built half a castle and then I blew it up with TNT," Flowey said proudly.

"You kids and your video games. Don't you have better things to do, like homework?" Papyrus pretended to scold, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning. The kids always helped him feel better, even if it was just a little.

"Not me. I don't go to school. Frisk did their homework yesterday, like always." Flowey rolled his eyes. "They have to be 'responsible.'"

Frisk put their hands on their hips.

"You're like an old person, Frisk. I bet you'd do the taxes if Toriel let you!" Flowey teased.

I don't even know how to do taxes! Frisk signed.

"Okay, you two, that's enough. What's the plan for today?" Papyrus interrupted, dropping to the ground beside Flowey.

"Eh, nothing really. We just played Minecraft. Then you guys came over. Sans was gonna play Scrabble with us, but he fell asleep," sighed Flowey. "So we came out here and just started throwing this ball around."

"I see! Well, three can play at that game, right?" Papyrus said.

I wish we could play Red Rover. Frisk sighed.

"There's not enough people. And I can't really play that game. Don't you always play it at school anyway?"

Just then, Toriel stuck her head out the back door. "Frisk! Did I not tell you to clean your room this morning?" she called.

Frisk ducked their head guiltily and ran up into the house.

Flowey sighed. "Guess we'll have to wait here." He looked at Papyrus. "You look like you didn't sleep much."

"Oh, I slept too much! Quite by accident, I slept in almost until noon! It, uh—wasn't very restful, though," Papyrus admitted.

Flowey nodded. "I get it. Nightmares, huh?"

Papyrus started. The question "How'd you know?" slipped from his mouth.

"Lucky guess. I have them a lot," said Flowey matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Papyrus shuffled his feet. "Uh… me too, I guess."

"Yeah. Honestly, I've gotten really used to them. I don't wake up crying anymore. Sometimes I feel bad for a while, but Frisk helps me forget about them." Flowey gazed up into the clear blue sky.

"What do you dream about?" Papyrus asked, despite knowing Flowey would likely direct the same question back at him.

"Mostly… being alone, in the dark… calling out for my Mom and Dad, but nobody ever comes." Flowey drew random shapes in the dirt with a leaf. "Other times… I dream about what I did when I had the power to reset. You know… killing people and stuff." He shuddered. "And people finding out about it and hating me. Good thing I know it's not true when I wake up, and my therapist seems to get my feelings even if he doesn't quite understand the whole resetting thing, but you know. Still not nice to think about."

Papyrus nodded. He couldn't remember resets, and he'd been the first besides Frisk to forgive Flowey for everything he'd done. It wasn't a blind forgiveness, though. Thinking about the things Flowey had said he'd done to him was beyond unpleasant—it even scared him a little. However, he had chosen to believe that Flowey's apology was genuine and that he was trying to change, and certainly the past year had proved that.

"So… your nightmares?" Flowey prompted.

There it was.

Papyrus struggled with telling Flowey even more than he had with Toriel. For one, some bits of what he remembered and felt from the dream were distinctly not appropriate to discuss with a ten-year-old, and beyond that, he just really didn't know what to make of any of it. "Bits and pieces of memories, I think," he said finally. "Things I don't remember when I wake up. Bad things."

As if he sensed Papyrus's feelings, Flowey didn't press the issue. "Yeah… honestly, I reset so many times I barely remember what happens in all of them. I get it," he said, patting Papyrus's femur.

Papyrus felt a surge of appreciation. At least someone understood him, or tried to, anyway.

He stood up. "You know, I bet Frisk could use some help cleaning their room. Do you want to come?"

"No way." Flowey made a face. "I'm not the one who makes it so messy."

"Alright, then! I shall offer my aid alone, then. See you in a bit!" Papyrus headed inside.

When he opened the door, he became aware of Toriel and Sans in the living room, who had their heads together. They quickly straightened when Papyrus came in.

"Just going upstairs to help Frisk!" he said cheerfully, though he was incensed that the two felt the need to clam up just because he was around.

"Of course, dear," Toriel said. "Now, Sans, what was it you were telling me about—er, that new show you were watching?"

Now Papyrus was really suspicious. As he made his way to the stairs, he wondered if they were talking about him. And in a split second he made a decision.

He pretended to stomp loudly up the stairs, then snuck back into the hallway and stationed himself just around the corner, where Toriel and Sans couldn't see him. They spoke a little louder, believing he was upstairs.

"…I am really not sure if he would want me to tell you this, but I am extremely concerned for him, and I am not sure anyone else could convince him to get help," Toriel was saying to Sans.

"Tell me exactly what he said."

"He was very vague about it, but he said he believed someone had hurt him, and he did not remember who or what exactly it was they did. He just knew that it made him 'feel bad.'" Toriel paused. "Sans, I do not want to jump to conclusions. But as I work with children, I am trained to recognize signs of abuse… especially sexual abuse." She seemed to struggle with her next words. "I believed at first it might have been someone at his workplace, but he said he had been having these nightmares since he was about twelve or thirteen years old, and I became very scared for him. If he had been that young, it would have been in the Underground, meaning—"

"It would have been a monster who did it," Sans finished her sentence. Papyrus wished he could see his brother's face, but he didn't want to risk being seen.

"Yes, and they might still be on the loose. They might even try to victimize him again—but again, I do not want to jump to conclusions," Toriel said, her voice sounding breathless. "We do not even really know that it was sexual abuse, since he did not elaborate at all on what he meant by 'hurt.' But one way or another, I believe he needs help. I am scared that he will hurt himself if he continues having these dreams and not getting enough rest. It will catch up to him eventually…"

"Yeah, I know." Sans sounded contemplative. "I don't think he's gonna respond well to the idea of getting a therapist, though. He generally does not like asking for help, especially with things like basic functioning… we either gotta convince him or trick him into going, and neither of those are gonna be easy."

Papyrus didn't want to hear anymore.

He went very quietly upstairs and locked himself in the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, he slid down to the floor, taking deep breaths.

At least now he knew never to tell Toriel things, even if he'd had to learn it the hard way. Honestly, he didn't know what he had expected. Sans had been Papyrus's caretaker since his teens; Toriel probably thought it was her duty to inform him, and after all, Papyrus hadn't told her not to tell him. Still, he had hoped for some confidentiality.

But then, people rarely afforded him the respect they gave everyone else, and he felt foolish for expecting anything else.

He didn't allow himself to dwell on it for long. At least he knew Sans was going to either try to convince him to go to a therapist or trick him into doing it, and he could prepare his defenses.

Papyrus left the bathroom and knocked on the door to Frisk's room. "Frisk! Do you need any help in there? I thought maybe I could organize your closet!"

Frisk opened the door, and it was clear from their face that they were relieved to have help. Papyrus could understand why, as clothes, toys, books, and other objects littered the floor despite Frisk supposedly having been working for nearly twenty minutes.

"Well, let's get started!"

As they worked, Papyrus didn't allow any thoughts about his nightmares to enter his mind. He was beyond sick of them at this point, wishing he had never had them, or at least that he had never said anything about them.

He was going to have to learn to live with the fact that there were no answers to his questions.

No answers that anyone was willing to give him, anyway.

oooooooooo

so. this chapter honestly turned out darker than I thought, which seems to happen often with this story for some reason. originally there was going to be stuff with Mettaton, but I felt there would be too much going on and decided to save it for the next chapter-which will include Papyrus/Mettaton interactions again! along with a lack of Devon.

Papyrus, in this chapter, is almost perfectly representative of the type of sexual abuse survivor I am. when I suffered the way I did as a child, my brain ended up repressing most of those memories, and for the past few years I have been left with only the knowledge that I was abused, but not what exactly happened. there's a slight difference between me and Papyrus here-namely that I know who my abuser was while Papyrus does not, and his memories being repressed has more to do with the perpetrators being almost literally erased from existence as opposed to a defense mechanism by the brain-but still, there's so much here that I relate to and I hope I got it across in this chapter well.

so yeah, dark chapter, but important, I think, to establishing just what Papyrus is dealing with. the next chapter should be at least somewhat lighter.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything so far! I read all your lovely comments and treasure every one even if responding is difficult for me.

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