"Don't ask now. I need money." I extending my hand toward Gaster, kinda expecting him to be a good guy and help a "brother" out.
He spoke his his usually language, making it unable for me to understand him.
"He says, 'if anything, you should be paying us.'" Papyrus translated.
"What if I promise to pay you back, once I get a job?" I raised my eyebrows to him, knowing well that he couldn't see my smug expression.
He let out a droned sigh, leaving the room. He eventually came back, a small bag in hand.
"Thanks." I laughed, taking the bag from him before leaving the house. He had given me a couple hundred gold, a lot more than I hopefully need.
I went to Grillby's first, hoping to catch a decent lunch as I payed off what I owed for the mass amount of ketchup. Next was the shop, where I was able to get some clothes. No one's complained about my current attire yet, so why would I not stick to what I'm used to. I bought two weeks worth of sweaters, sweatpants, and socks.
I saw that glowing, yellow thing, again, floating between the shop and the inn. I set one of my bags down, quickly reaching out to it in a failing attempt to catch it. As it slipped through my fingers I felt a sudden wave of dread. It feels as if something's about to happen, but I'm not too sure what.
I shrugged the feeling off, grabbing the bag I had set down as I began to make way for home.
I entered the house, setting my bags down as I was greeted by a wondrous scent. Of course I followed it, finding a tall man stirring a pot on the stovetop.
"Hey there, Gaster." I sighed, approaching the man with hands in my pockets.
He spoke in the same, not-so-understandable language, as per usual, pointing at the knife beside me and a cutting board on the counter opposite.
"Alright." I spoke in a low tone, grabbing the knife and walking over to the cutting board.
Everything after that felt unbelievably slow.
I fell over, the knife driving its way through my stomach.
A warm feeling forced its way up my throat, tasting almost metallic as the crimson dripped from my lips to the tiled floor.
I don't want to die... at least, not yet. I don't have a reason to die, yet.
A blue heart appeared in front of my eyes, quivering as if to mock me.
I reached up for it, and it shattered right between my fingers. My whole being felt like it was being meticulously taken apart, the unbearable pain beginning to subside.
What if I could do it over, again?
I woke up with a gasp, my back pressed against Snowed Inn. I quickly patted myself down. My head. My arms. My legs. My stomach. I'm still intact, and uninjured.
"Just lack of sleep, I suppose." I let out an unconfident laugh, denying my own death experience. I slowly stood up, bags in hand as I went home.
The residence was filled with a familiar smell, as if it were some kind of soup or stew. I cautiously followed it, setting my bags down by the couch.
"Gaster?" My voice held slight concern. I've seen this scene, already.
He said something impossible to understand, looking between me and the knife.
"Sure thing." I laughed, making way for the board first. On top of it were a few carrots, which I also grabbed onto.
I began walking to the knife, tripping over the same spot as I did last.
I stopped my momentum long before my body could register the fall, my weight being held by my left arm. I let out a sigh of relief, the corner of the cutting board only a few centimeters away from my right eye.
I looked around me, hoping to find what I'd tripped over. There was nothing.
I stood back up, picking up the broken carrots before setting everything down on the counter.
"This is impossible." I spoke in a hushed tone, a quiet laugh masking over my fear.
Faster watched me for a quiet moment, stepping away from the stovetop to open a drawer.
"You need something there, bub?" I gave the man a hesitant chuckle.
He approach me, handing me a book. The skeleton's face started to force chills down my spine, but I took the book, anyway.
"'How to speak Wingdings.'" I repeated the words on the cover, "Thanks?"
He said one last thing before turning of the stovetop and exiting the kitchen.
I pulled the step-stool out from under the sink and looked into the pot. Tomato soup (probably made with the ketchup I had stored). There was enough for one person.
I don't know much about cooking, but I'm pretty sure tomato soup doesn't require carrots.