Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has already given my little book so much support! It means the world to me! To Kiryma and everyone else like them who thought the description of his facial transformation was not clear enough (my sincere apologies for that) Sans now has a ridge along his collar bone around his neck. Picture an old fashioned 'Dracula' cape with one of those sleek collars. Thanks once again everyone!

Sincerely yours, Get Keen.

"…Please do not return. You understand."

You sniffle in the ethereal white-blue glow from your computer screen as Toriel bends down and hugs Frisk. A half-full box of Kleenex sits on the desk next to your whirring laptop, the other half of its contents strewn about the glass surface. You grope for another tissue while your eyes stay fixed on the screen, your chin resting in your other hand as you watch Toriel leave the room.

"Tori, no!" You wail, drawing out the 'o' sound for an unnecessarily long time, "I'm sorry! Come back!" You had just started another pacifist playthrough of Undertale. Although you'd watched other people play the genocide run, which was a traumatic enough experience, you could never bring yourself to even begin it on your own laptop. And so, you had contented yourself with multiple versions of the pacifist gameplay, freeing the monsters from the Underground time and time again and sparing anyone and everyone who came up against you.

It gave you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. A sense of purpose.

You yawn unceremoniously, minimising the game to check the built in clock on your computer. 2:56 am.

"Wowie," you sigh and then chuckle at yourself. You had obviously been playing this game way too much, the characters' dialects were starting to rub off on you. You groan as you get up reluctantly from your hunched position over the computer, slapping the laptop shut without switching it off. You grab the red fleece blanket that had been hanging over the back of your desk chair and cocoon yourself in it, pulling the fluffy material to your chin, before collapsing onto your bed.

A chill permeates the room through a window that is still open and you glare at it tiredly. After a few tense moments of a stare down with the blowing curtains, you turn onto your side and snuggle further into the little pocket of warmth you'd created for yourself, falling asleep to the Undertale soundtrack still drifting through your mind.

It is a deep, penetrating coldness that drags you from your slumber. Shivering and mentally cursing your own laziness at not closing the window, you grope around you for the blanket that seemed to have unwound itself from your body during the night. Your hand instead plunges into a wet, mushy substance. And man, is it cold. A breathless gasp rises from your lungs and your eyes spring open.

And what a sight greets that disoriented gaze.

You are laying on the edge of a paved path that is lined with pristine, powdery snow, spreading into a dense forest of colossal pine trees. Your unfortunate hand had, instead of the warm cover you had been seeking, found an icy mound next to the hard stones of the path. Intricate snowflakes drifting in a gentle, winter breeze constantly add to the sleek white coat the pines had attained, as well as the seemingly endless fields of snow that disappear into the thick shadows of the forest bordering them.

You feel your jaw drop.

The place would be beautiful, if it weren't for its mildly eerie atmosphere. You get up from the ground, arms wrapped around your body, and consider dismissing the sudden change of scenery merely as a vivid dream. However, the bitter coldness of the snow your unfortunate hand had discovered was too harsh to be false.

This was no dream. The realisation chills you even further, and you wrap your arms around yourself for comfort. Instead of the cloth of your pyjamas though, your cold fingers clutch onto thick, soft wool. You look down in surprise and find yourself not in the simple shirt and shorts you usually sleep in, but fully kitted out in black ankle boots, faded jeans and an awfully familiar woollen jumper.

You do a double take. It couldn't be…could it?

The notion is absurd even to you, but what else could explain your frosty surroundings and new purple-and-blue striped jumper?

You seemed to be, unbelievably, in Undertale.

A sudden thought strikes you and you paw at your face frantically, making sure that everything is the same as it had been when you had went to bed the night before. You heave a sigh of relief as you poke the tip of your nose, discovering that the entirety is as it should be. You hadn't physically turned into Frisk, despite the fact that you were wearing their unmistakable clothing.

You take a deep breath and take a few stiff steps forward, thoughts whizzing through your mind. After a while your steps, therapeutic in their regularity, calm you down, your initial panic dissolves and your scrambled thoughts untwine and actually begin to make sense. You had just started another game right? And what better way to play through it than with a totally immersive experience. You chuckle weakly and start to brighten up. Ever since you started playing the game, you had loved this virtual world and all of its unique, quirky characters. And apparently, you had the chance to actually live through it yourself. Now that you think about it, this is actually brilliant! A bounce finds its way into your step and you saunter along the path, the cold no longer bothering you so much.

You carry on walking with nothing breaking the monotony of the snow and trees, until you come across a long, thin stick. It was so out of place, it was almost ridiculous. But you remember this particular wooden landmark and you step over it purposefully, a knowing smile finding its way onto your face. You clasp your hands behind your back as you walk on, whistling Megalovania nonchalantly. When you hear the quiet crackle of wood splintering, you whip around to see the now broken stick. There was no sign of its breaker anywhere, however.

You turn on your heel and hurry on along the path, this was getting interesting and you couldn't wait to see what would happen next. The fact you had already played through this scenario countless times was evidently lost on you in your child-like excitement.

When you see a short fence with gaps too wide to actually function as a barrier, you screech to a halt and take a moment to gather your thoughts before you continue.

"Wow, this really is happening," you pant, breathless and bright-eyed with anticipation. You take a couple of deep breaths to slow your heart rate before taking a measured walk up to the fence. After all, you were convinced that somewhere a short, lazy skeleton was watching your every move. This was obviously the case as you had scarcely reached the fence when you heard muffled footsteps on the path behind you.

" human," a thrill runs up and down your spine and you fill your lungs with biting air as you let out an involuntary gasp.

"don't you know how to greet a new pal?" you almost burst a blood vessel trying to keep in squeals of delight.

" turn around. . ."

You look down at the frosted floor and turn around slowly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement, an outstretched arm. You hold out your own hand and slowly raise your eyes to the figure standing in front of you.

As the distinctive sound of a whoopee cushion fills the air and makes you cringe, you gaze star-struck a character you had never dared to wish could be real.

"i'm sans. sans the skeleton."