"Oh, Asriel! Honey, I was so worried…"

"Son, we nearly sent everyone out looking… where were you? Sans, how did you know where to find him?"

"Give the kid a little space, guys. I think I'll finally explain this year…"

…

January 10th, 213X

…

After a night spent at a little motel, a hearty breakfast at a diner Asriel had never been to, and a bit of wandering, the Prince had finally decided to go home. Sans hadn't pressed him about it at all, and perhaps that was why he felt so comfortable with the older man. Upon arriving at the castle, Asriel and Sans had been escorted inside by guards and straight to the Throne Room where Toriel and Asgore were waiting on opposite sides of the room. Immediately drawn into his mother's arms, Asriel had remained quiet until he eventually asked to be excused to his room and Sans walked with Asgore and Toriel into their little living area of the castle.

Asgore brought tea to the table, and Toriel brought her famous butterscotch-cinnamon pie. Sans gladly partook of both while he gathered his thoughts to explain to the two worried parents. After taking a sip of the tea, Sans glanced between them. Their eyes were downcast to their cups and plates, thinking only of Asriel.

"So, uh… I don't think I have to tell you guys that this is about Ma… right?"

"No, we knew," Asgore sighed. "I just can't understand why Asriel feels the need to run away."

"He needs space," Sans told them simply, and that made their brows stitch in concern.

"Does he feel like we smother him?" Toriel asked quietly.

"Kinda," Sans nodded. "I know the poor kid's got some problems… and I know he can be dangerous when it gets bad enough. But he's a good kid and he's hurt badly. Comfort is great and all… but sometimes you just need to be alone when you're down. Especially when you're thinking about someone you lost that loved you like her own…"

"Of course we can understand that," Asgore murmured, glancing to Toriel as she nodded, one of the few times she'd agreed with him at all since Asriel had disappeared. "But… we worry about leaving him unattended when something might… trigger him. And there aren't many people that can soothe him when that happens."

"You just gotta learn how."

"You know how?"

"It's not foolproof, but I can do it almost as well as Ma."

"You must teach us, Sans," Toriel insisted, and Sans shook his head.

"It's different for every person, Tori. You'll have to learn by trial and error."

"I'm certainly willing… but that can be dangerous not just to me, but Asriel as well…"

"It can be. And you might not like my suggestion, but…"

"Yes?" Asgore asked, ready to try anything.

"You two need to tackle it together." The silence that answered Sans made him sigh. Of course Asgore was willing, but Toriel was hesitant. "Come on, Tori. I know you don't want to spend any more time around here than you have to, but this is for Asriel."

"I can manage… for Asriel."

"I'll try to make it as painless as possible, Tori," Asgore assured her. He retreated a bit when she glared over at him, and he knew what she wanted to say to him. You'll try to help Asriel, but not Chara?

"Alright, guys. United front, come on. This is your son we're talking about," Sans reminded them. "I know a lot of awful stuff has happened in the past, but this is now. Asriel's a sweet kid who's carrying a lot of hurt on his shoulders. If you really wanna fight, go somewhere else where he can't hear it. No one can fix your issues but you, so leave the kid out of it."

It was embarrassing to be scolded by a man twenty years younger than them, but the King and Queen nodded in agreement. Sans had good sense that the parents' disagreements had robbed from them.

"Good," Sans sighed, rising once he drained his tea cup. "I'm gonna go say goodbye to the kid. And around this time next year, let Asriel do what he wants, and he'll come home on his own. Don't trap him. Just leave the door unlocked. And if anything happens, call me and I'll get him home."

"Thank you, Sans," Toriel muttered, rising to hug the younger man before Asgore shook his hand in thanks as well.

"No worries. Later." Sans tucked his hands into his hoodie pockets and strolled out of the den. Toriel and Asgore shared a glance, but Asgore kept quiet. With a deep sigh, Toriel kissed his cheek and took the dishes into the kitchen, leaving him stunned on the spot.

…

The drive felt like forever, but when Sans ended up in Echo outside Frisk's little apartment, he couldn't help a little grin. Frisk's car was in the parking lot, so Sans didn't hesitate to walk right into the building and up the flight of stairs. He tapped on the familiar door with a rhythmic knock that would let Frisk know it was him.

"Who's there?" That familiar and calm voice called out anyway.

"Broken pencil."

"… Broken pencil who?"

"Ah, forget it. There's no point."

"Oh my god, Sans." The door opened and Sans looked up to see his younger partner staring down at him with some level of amusement. "Did you really just make a pun and a knock-knock joke at the same time?"

"That was amateur stuff, babe," Sans assured them, striding under their arm and into the apartment. Frisk's place was always tidy and welcoming, so Sans had no qualms about flopping down on the couch with a comfortable sigh.

Frisk and Sans were considered by many to be an odd couple. Sans, being long descended from natives of the region, had a fairly dark complexion and black hair. He was short for a man at only 5'3", and very muscular and broad despite his clothes almost giving him a chubby look. He had a barrel chest and thick limbs and he looked like he could stop a speeding truck. Frisk, on the other hand, was somewhat tall at 6'1", had lightly tanned, white skin and a lean, narrow, and thin but powerful frame. Frisk was masculine in body and many folks often went with their biological, male gender. Frisk didn't seem to be terribly defensive about it, but they had always been non-binary since their friends had met them in 201X.

Frisk came to settle on the couch and Sans placed his head in their lap quite comfortably. Feeling Frisk play with the blonde stripe in his hair, Sans gave them a grin.

"So how did it go?" Frisk asked calmly, laying their other hand on Sans' broad chest.

"Asriel's home and his parents are gonna try to be a little more… helpful. They'll have to figure it out for themselves, though."

"Mhm. It'll take a while for him to build up that particular trust with them."

"What about you? What've you been up to?"

"Work, mostly. I spent a little time with Blue and Mettaton yesterday. We went out to dinner to celebrate Blue being given top honors in their class."

"That's pretty fantastic." Sans' grin grew wider. It was so strange to see all of their friends grown up and making their own lives. Sans, being perhaps the oldest in the whole group, felt a little melancholy sometimes at the memories twelve years back.

"I thought so. Mettaton asked a lot of questions about you, you know."

"What like?"

"Like whether you ever actually take me out on dates, or if our idea of a 'date' is laying around on the couch eating take-out."

"Well, it's almost lunchtime. We're halfway there right now."

"How romantic, Mr. Skjallar." Frisk chuckled, lifting a hand from Sans' chest to stroke his stubbled cheek fondly.

"I do my best." Sans pulled his phone from his pocket and found the usual number to their favorite take-out place in his contacts. Frisk slipped away into the kitchen to get them each a drink, listening to Sans talk to the worker on the other end. He called them by name and that made Frisk shake their head with a smile. Sans knew everyone at their favorite restaurants and was always friendly to them all.

"Hey, babe, you want crab rangoons?"

"Yes please."

"Yeah, a full order of those, Jake. Thanks, you're the best… Frisk's place. You have the address on file, right? … Sweet, see you soon. Bye."

Frisk returned with a glass of water and a beer in a glass bottle. They always kept Sans' favorite brand around. It came from an Echo microbrewery called Whitehall that used a tiny hint of echo flower oil in their brewing process. Echo flowers were famously deadly, but when the oil was carefully treated with just a touch of common sugar, it became harmless and had a delicate floral taste. Of all the people to drink a flowery beer, Frisk would've expected Sans to be the last. But he loved the stuff. Frisk didn't drink often, versus Sans who Frisk often teased for being a 'borderline alcoholic.'

They chatted about nothing in particular, touching occasionally on what their other friends were up to and a blizzard expected for that weekend. Eventually after their food arrived, Frisk asked a question Sans didn't really want to answer.

"So how were you yesterday? You know…"

"Fine." Sans' answer was a little too quick and he tried to be casual, popping a wonton into his mouth.

"Sans."

"I was busy lookin' after the kid. It was fine."

"You must've taken him to the stream."

"Yeah…"

"Did you get a chance to talk to her at all?"

"To who?"

"You know exactly who."

"You can't talk to dead people, Frisk."

"But you can get your thoughts out. I know you're not a person who worries about things like the afterlife or whether the dead can still watch over us… but even you aren't immune to the need to talk to your mother. And being near where you lay a person to rest tends to make that come out."

"… Yeah, I talked to her… Or talked at the water… whatever." Sans set down his plate then, and Frisk's brows furrowed in concern.

"I won't ask any more questions," Frisk assured him softly. "I'm sorry, Sans."

"I told her I miss her… Shit, I tell her that every year," Sans admitted. The dam was breaking. Frisk was one of very few people who could make that happen, and Sans hated it.

"Babe…"

"I told her what Papyrus has been up to, the lessons with Doggo and the training… I told her about work, but nothing much has changed. I felt like I had to say something about Dad too, but all I could really tell her was that he's still working hard as usual." Sans let his head rest in his hands. He hated this. Once he started, he couldn't stop. It hurt, but he had to keep going and get it out, for his own sake. "I told her about you and me, and how I'm pretty sure Mettaton and Pap are a thing now... Stuff like that. And… goddammit, I got even stupider and asked her how she was, like she could fucking answer me."

"Sans…"

"Who the hell asks a dead person if they're having a good fucking day? She's dead, she's not having any kind of day!"

"Sans." Frisk moved over to wrap an arm around Sans' middle.

"And who goes on to ask a fucking favor? I asked her to keep an extra lookout for Pap… God, I'm so stupid…"

"Stop." Frisk's quiet yet demanding tone made Sans glance up at his partner. Frisk's expression was serene and neutral as ever, and they hugged Sans close to their side. "It's okay, Sans," Frisk soothed, and Sans' shoulders sagged, letting his head fall into his hands once more. "You might not believe she can hear you. But… well, I think she can. I know you're not really the kind of person for religion or spirituality… and I'm not either. But I don't think anyone is just gone when they die. I feel like there's a reason we scatter their ashes in special places… it's so we have a place we can go to and talk to them. Even if they can't answer… it's hard to believe that they aren't at least aware, wherever they are… It seems naïve, but… it's the only hope some people have. And that's important."

Drawing Sans in with both arms until his head came to rest on their chest, Frisk kissed his forehead. "You've got to have some hope. Maybe not faith… but hope. It's the only thing that keeps you going when everything else crumbles."

"… You should be a poet," Sans muttered, and Frisk couldn't help a little smile.

"I'll write it all down for you if that'll help."

"You and Pap are the only hope I need, Frisk… I'll be okay with you guys."

"I'm glad to hear it… and I hope your mom approves."

"She'd love you. You're the only person that makes me excited to get out of bed."

"Or into it." That earned a true laugh from the shorter man, and he wrapped his arms around Frisk in return.

"Yeah, that too… but don't tell her that."

"I promise I'll keep your love life a secret." Both laughed then, holding each other tightly until Sans lifted his head to steal a proper kiss, and Frisk was quite content to oblige him for the next several minutes.