AN: I'm sorry this is late. Explanation at the end of the chapter. My thanks to everyone who came on this little journey with me. This was originally two chapters, but even with my Author Notes attached, they weren't long enough for me to justify separate chapters, so I combined them. More notes at the end.

~!~

[Thank You]

On the good days, I felt like there was nothing wrong with me. I had the energy for my usual theatrics, and you sneaked terrible puns into every conversation for me to complain about.

On the bad days, I hid in my room and said it was a migraine. I could barely think or move, let alone get excited about anything. You could have tie-dyed my scarf and I still wouldn't have cared.

On the worst days, you sat with me while I slipped in and out of delerium. You held me when I could hardly breathe for the sake of the pain. You pretended not to notice my tears and just held me tighter because I needed you. You thought I didn't know you were there.

You were the only thing that kept me going.

~!~

Sans knelt on the kitchen floor, his fingertips scraping at his skull as he fought to stay calm. He wanted to scream and throw things. He wanted to set the world on fire for what it had done to his brother.

Papyrus still thought he had a particularly nasty case of the flu, and that was the only mercy he'd been granted in six hellish months. How much longer would he be forced to suffer? Even one more day was one day too many. Even a good one. Because it would only be another lie, he'd be crippled by pain within an hour of declaring himself well enough to go for an energetic walk, and spend the next week in a twitching stupor as the latest migraine ravaged him.

Slow footsteps made their way along the hall and Sans picked himself up off the kitchen floor, sitting at the table, his chin in the palm of his right hand and an expression of boredom all but painted onto his face as he resumed doing the dishes via magic from across the room.

"Sans, where have all the pens and paper gone?" Papyrus asked him when he appeared in the doorway. "I want to write something down before I forget it." He explained with a smile. Sans glanced into the living room, beckoned to the desk with his magic, and a few sheets of paper and a pen floated across the room and landed in Papyrus' hands. "Thank you, brother."

"how're you feelin'?" Sans asked him casually, going back to the dishes.

"A bit dizzy. I stood up a little quickly just now." Papyrus answered with a sheepish chuckle. "I think I'll have a nap once I've finished with this," he gestured to the paper and pen, "just to chase off this niggly headache, but I'd like to go to the park after lunch if the weather holds out. It's lovely outside today."

"sure." Sans answered him. "i'll do lunch at about half past eleven, then?" He suggested. Papyrus grinned.

"Sounds good."

Sans couldn't help himself, he got up and peered down the hallway as Papyrus made slow progress back to his room. Papyrus still filled the space, but he was so frail now. His pyjamas sagged like a limp tent from his drooping shoulders, his once-powerful stride was no more than a shuffle, and his head hung as though his neck was tired of holding his skull up.

It just wasn't fair. Why him? What did he ever do to deserve this?

Shaking his own head in frustration, Sans hurriedly finished off the dishes then moved on to the laundry. He checked with Papyrus before going outside to hang the freshly washed clothes on the line, and Papyrus just smiled at him some more.

"It's just a headache, Sans, it's not like I'm dying."

Sans could hardly escape the room fast enough. He almost flung all the washing on the roof instead of hanging it out to dry, because to hell with it when his brother couldn't get five minutes' relief from his pain!

But he didn't. He sorted everything from the basket and floated it up to the line with copious amounts of magic, floated pegs up there to pin everything in place, then he sighed deeply and went back inside, leaving the basket in the laundry on his way to Papyrus' room to check on his brother again. A low groan reached him even before he got there.

"you want the curtains shut so you can sleep, paps?" Sans asked him, maintaining his casual air. Papyrus didn't answer for several long seconds, sitting on the edge of his bed, and Sans stopped in front of him and simply waited.

"No, thank you, Sans." His brother finally said. Sans watched him slowly rearrange himself under the covers again, Papyrus lay down so carefully that one might have thought his bed was made of nails and acid, and without asking if he wanted the help Sans stepped forwards and pulled the covers up to tuck him in.

Of course as soon as he'd done so, Papyrus rumpled them by sitting up and pulling him into a tight hug. Sans didn't mind. If Papyrus wanted hugs, he'd get them.

"so, what were you writing?" He asked as Papyrus lay down again, seeing the pen and paper on the side-table.

"Just something I had on my mind when I woke up." Papyrus answered with a smile that was almost wistful. "It's a letter."

"can i read it?"

Papyrus' smile widened, and he reached out and clasped Sans' hand in his own.

"Sure, but I'll probably drift off while you read." He answered. "I'm so tired."

~!~

~!~

[I'm So Tired]

I'm so very, very tired. I just can't last any longer, brother, and I'm so scared. I don't want the darkness to take me away from you.

But it's heavier every time it takes hold of me. I can't fight it any more. It's punishing me for lying to you, for not admitting that I overheard you arguing with the doctor that day, when you forbade her from telling me I had cancer.

I'm sorry. I should have told you already, but it was easier to pretend. I thought that if I just pretended it was the flu, then you would keep pretending with me and I could stay in this world with you. I can't stand the thought of being without you, Sans, I'm so afraid of being alone.

I'm so very afraid.

You're not there in the darkness, but you are there when I'm awake, and you're there when I'm in that halfway-place. I'll stay there with you for as long as I possibly can, Sans. I know I won't wake up this time.

Thank you, Sans. I love you.

Love Papyrus

~!~

AN: So... Why this is late... Dad's been going downhill in a hurry over the last couple of days. The doctor came to visit yesterday (approx. 1230hrs AEST, 30/07/2018 ... I live in Australia and my timezone is GMT+10) and she confirmed my fears that Dad has a week or less left. I kind of lost my shit a little bit and spent most of the day in a defiant daze, like I was subconsciously convinced that "if I pretend it's not happening, then it's not happening". Like that was gonna work.
Well, we had a bit of a scare last night, at 2055hrs (I know the exact time because I had to call the GP to come visit us) and we thought that was it. Dad was grey in the face, dark-blue/black circles around his eyes, his extremities were cold and (he'd attempted to use the commode chair beside his bed) he'd soiled himself. His head had dropped back and he was giving the ceiling a goldfish stare, barely gasping half a breath every 10-15sec. With the doc's help, we put him back to bed. I still didn't post this chapter, however, despite it being on my mind, because I couldn't quite silence a tiny, irrational nugget of paranoia which left me believing that the moment I post this last chapter, some otherworldly or supernatural 'force' or 'entity' will interpret that as a 'sign' and end it. Crazy, right?
I still couldn't silence it though, and put myself to sleep out of sheer mental exhaustion. I woke up this morning at around 0500hrs to a horrible panting noise, and it took me a good five minutes to realise that that's what Dad's breaths sound like now. My bedroom is adjacent to his room in our house, and that is the creepiest fkn thing I have ever heard, that shallow, infrequent, wet-gasp for air. I went in to check on him, and he was flailing around like a newborn, trying to get comfortable, all the while making That Face and That Noise.
That was 45mins ago now and he's calmed down a little bit, and I have no idea wtf to do with myself, because he's not asleep, he's literally lying there goldfish-ing at the wall, my stepmum has been keeping him company for the time being while I type this out, and... I don't know what to do next. But I'm posting this mainly in order to defeat that little lump of irrationality, and because I feel bad for not posting it 24hrs ago when I was *supposed* to.

So... Yeah. Thanks for reading, thanks for being here, and I hope your live -whoever you are- takes a turn for the better in some way, in the near future. We can all do with a little sunshine now and then.