Here Comes A Thought
Chapter 48: Here Comes A Thought
Sans did not particularly care for the silence that hung over them all like a veil.
He stood amongst monsters and humans and shattered glass, unable to move, unable to so much as blink. Blake ever so quietly shut off the television, his hands shaking as he held the remote.
"I'll… I'll clean this up, Blake said lowly, kicking at a sliver of glass.
"What exactly was that?" Richard asked, looking sharply between them. "What is the significance of the dust?"
"That was a monster," Undyne informed him, still looking shocked at the black television screen, her own unsetteld reflection staring back at her. Her fists clenched and unclenched around air as she grabbed at nothing, her eye wide and glaring at the box as if it were the offender.
"There are dust monsters?" he blinked.
"No."
"When a monster… passes," Asgore softly let him know, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We turn to dust-"
"They were killed-?" he balked at him, suddenly realizing just how loud he had gotten. His jaw clenched tightly and his nostrils flared as he closed his eyes, letting out a long, slow breath.
"W-what do w-we do…?" Alphys scraped her claws over the top of her head nervously, and Sans saw just how utterly distressed Frisk was. They were pale, paler than usual, dragging their hands through their hair and rocking back and forth. Sans knelt beside them quietly and ever so slowly pulled them into a hug, dropping the brick and message in favor of letting them cling to him around the shoulders.
"It's gonna be okay," Sans whispered into their ear, trying to still their shaking. Seeing them so hurt was like taking a hot knife to the soul. God he was such an idiot. Why did he have to read it out loud? "Shh. It's gonna be okay, babybones. I promise."
"P-please don't s-send me back," Frisk's voice came out in barely above a terrified murmur. "Please, please… ! I'll b-be good, I'll be good please god please don't send me back… !"
"Baby - babybones," Sans hushed them softly, petting their hair and holding them close. "You aren't goin' anywhere. Okay? Nobody is sending you away, and we're sure as all hell not lettin' that rat bastard hurt you. It's okay. Alright, babybones? C'mon, kiddo. Don't cry. It's gonna be okay. It'll be alright," he said over and over again, letting them bury their face in his jacket as he rocked them back and forth.
"Did anyone see who threw it?" Toriel peered through the broken window at the moonlit streets.
However, she could spot no one, and her mouth slanted into a sharp frown. Blake helped clean up the glass as a slightly stunned Richard assisted in nailing up a blanket over the broken window as a makeshift cover. Asgore insisted on checking over Undyne for a moment, as she had been the one closest to the window when someone had lobbed the brick through it. Sans was ready to burn the note that had come with it, crumpling it into his hands, but Richard stopped him, looking a little ill.
"Would you mind if I hold on to that?" Richard asked quietly.
"For the precious memories?" Sans couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"For further evidence," he stated flatly. "For all we know we might be able to pull fingerprints or something from it. It's worth a shot."
"Wouldn't know much about fingerprints," Sans handed him the crumpled note, showing off his phalanges by flexing them. "What with not having fingerprints and all."
Richard didn't laugh, but the corners of his mouth did twitch ever so slightly. Sans considered that a small victory. After the day that he'd had, he would take any form of victory that he could. He was a walking bundle of nerves. He needed his brother. He needed to talk to Papyrus, he needed to get away from the crowd for a little bit and just check up on Papyrus. He needed a drink, he needed a smoke, he needed out . It took Sans a moment to realize that Papyrus was nowhere to be found among the collected monsters talking in hushed tones, and Sans returned to Frisk to gently take their hand in his.
"… Hey," he said softly as they rocked back and forth, still tugging fretfully at their hair. "I'm… checkin' on the kid. Are… are you okay, babybones?"
Frisk looked like they were ready to start crying again, but they ever so slowly swallowed heavily and nodded once. Even though they were terrified, even though they were panicked and looking
so upset that he was surprised they were even still coherent, they still found the time to softly take his hand and pull him into a hug.
"It'll be okay, Sans," Frisk whispered. "I'll wait for you."
They really were a strong kid. They were so much braver, so much better than him. Sans sighed quietly and gave them one more hug before nodding to them all, poking into the kitchen. Papyrus wasn't there either, which meant that he was exactly where he suspected he would be. He could hear soft sobbing coming from down the hall, and Sans slowed his footsteps to a snail's pace as he approached the closed bedroom door. No doubt the little rat was giving Papyrus the waterworks shtick. He was nothing but trouble and Sans knew it. There had to be a reason that Gaster brought him back. But without a soul, he would have died in Papyrus's arms all over again. And yet, Gaster hadn't acted smug whenever Frisk had torn off part of their soul to save him. He had just seemed… surprised, oddly enough. Like he hadn't expected it at all. That was an interesting thought, to say the least. Sans sighed as he stood outside the bedroom door, fist raised as he started to knock before he heard hushed conversation from the other side.
"Please. Please, Papyrus."
"I… I can't," he heard his brother's soft tone, almost unheard. He leaned against the door a little, listening closely. "Don't… don't ask me to do something like that."
Sans could have crowed. He knew the little bastard was up to something, waiting until Papyrus was alone to try to manipulate him all over again-
"I just want to die ."
Sans's marrow ran cold.
Asriel said it with so much misery in his voice, so much conviction that it was a little frightening. He wasn't trying to just get something out of his brother. He wanted Papyrus to dust him.
Sans slowly lowered his fist, not realizing that he was holding his breath. He pulled away from the door for a little bit, but he could still hear gentle talk coming from the other side. He felt like he was reeling. He had more questions now than he did before. He only shook his head and swallowed, taking an unsteady breath and knocking on the bedroom door before his bravery left him completely.
Sans knocked a couple of times before sticking his head in through the doorway, silently observing his brother sitting on Blake's bed, rocking Asriel back and forth in his arm and a half. The child wore a pair of Frisk's striped pajamas, looking as if he had not slept in a very long time gauging from the bags beneath his eyes. Papyrus didn't really look much better.
"… Hey," Sans said quietly.
"You didn't even tell a knock knock joke this time," Papyrus looked… numb. "You must not be feeling well, brother."
"I'm fine," Sans lied through his teeth. "Everything is fine. How, uh… how you holdin' up?"
"I'm holding up a child," Papyrus said without missing a beat.
"Was… was that a joke?"
"What?" Papyrus frowned. "I have a sense of humor." Sans said nothing.
"… I do have a sense of humor," he said firmly. "… Shut up, Sans. Quit laughing."
"I'm not laughing at you bro," Sans grinned a little as he closed the door behind him. "You, uh… you mind if I chill out in here for a little bit?"
Asriel looked absolutely petrified at the prospect, but Papyrus only sighed and shifted on the bed, allowing room for Sans to sit. Ariel tried to hide against Papyrus to no avail, trembling furiously and staring at him with wide emerald eyes.
"Okay," Sans clasped his hands together as calmly as he could. "Okay. We're leaving tonight."
"I was just explaining that to the little one," Papyrus said quietly, gently stroking Asriel's head. "There are some, um. Things that I believe that we should discuss."
"Hit me with it," Sans stuck his hands in his pockets. Dear god he needed a smoke, but he could put off the urge for a while longer. He wanted to go back and hold Frisk. He wanted to let them know that they were safe. He didn't want to be around this little… imitation any longer than he had to. Even just being around the thing was difficult, he had to repress every urge that he had to attack the fuzzy freak.
"Would you mind if Asriel moved in with us?"
"What?" Sans blurted, unable to contain his shock. "Wha- Paps, are you freakin' kidding me?"
"We can make room," Papyrus said calmly as he petted Asriel's head. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch, Sans. And the king and queen will be literally right across the street-"
"Paps," Sans tried to say slowly, pinching the bridge of his nostril bone in irriatation. "I know you got a bit attached and all-"
"Don't," he cringed when Papyrus growled deeply. "I am not 'a bit attached', don't you dare imply what I think you are. He is my friend, has been my friend, and he needs our help ."
"There's… there's other ways to help, Paps…" Sans tried to explain desperately, the guilt from snapping at his brother rising. "I mean… just, hell . We can't just take 'im away from his parents."
"I can't see them," Asriel spoke at last, not looking at him and instead staring down at the floor. "Not… not after I-I… I just can't. I've… I've already hurt them, so much. I just… I can't do that to them," he finished miserably, hiding his eyes behind his palms as he took a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling. Papyrus hushed him and held him a bit closer, rocking him back and forth. "Not again. Not again. Not again."
"Just… just think it over?" Papyrus asked softly, and Sans closed his eye sockets for a moment. This was all too much. It was all just too much to deal with. He didn't want that little thing around him, or his home, or his family. He wanted it back where it belonged.
Six feet fucking under.
No. He belonged with his family. Sans was drawn out of his reverie when he saw Frisk curiously poking their head in through the doorway. They darted to Papyrus's side without a moment of hesitation, hugging him and the startled Asriel at the same time. Sans wanted to reach out to them, to hold them as well, but he kept himself back. He wasn't even entirely certain why. He just looked at them holding each other close, and he felt like he didn't even belong. Maybe that was because he never did. He didn't belong anywhere. It wasn't like it mattered much anyway. It was only a matter of time before the resets came again and all of this was rendered completely pointless.
Why did Gaster want to prevent another reset? Why bring a child back from the other side on the brink of death? What was the point? What was the purpose? Why would he make him suffer like this?
Sans sighed to himself and stood silently, but paused when Frisk released Asriel and took his hand. They didn't speak, but they did smile up at him softly, and he couldn't help but give a tired little smile back.
"… We're gonna head to the new place," Sans informed Papyrus quietly. "Will you be…?"
"I'll be here a while longer," his brother shook his head as Asriel hung limply around his neck, hiding his face against his chest. He had to forcibly remind himself that the child was a trap, that it was inevitably pointless, that the little monster was going to stab them all in the back the first chance that he got. But instead Sans sighed again, closed his eye sockets for a moment and just let Frisk hold his hand as he tried to collect himself. He didn't want to find his brother's dust. Not ever, ever again.
"Alright, bro," Sans said at last. "We'll see you over at the new place. You ready to go, kiddo?"
"Can… can I say goodbye first?" Frisk asked quietly.
"It's not like we're leavin' forever-" Sans started as he shook his head, a little grin forming. "-we're just… we'll just be… ah, screw it. Go on ahead, kiddo."
Frisk thanked him quietly and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Sans standing with his hands in his pockets for a moment.
"… Paps."
"Yes, Sans."
"We never showed up to the dinner party," he clapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh, shit. Did Tori and Asgore have to go to that shindig by themselves?"
"Undyne went with them," Papyrus said lowly. "Apparently they cut the dinner short when Frisk never showed up."
"Oh, shitballs," Sans groaned. "I completely forgot about it."
"How did you forget about something like that?"
"We… took a nap?" Sans said uncomfortably.
"For four hours?"
"It was really comfortable," he shrugged. "Had ta break in Frisk's new bed somehow. I wish you'd have been there to see the look on their face," Sans tried to change the subject. "Man. I don't think I've ever seen 'em that happy."
"Then my work is done," Papyrus said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Did you show them the glow in the dark paint too?"
"That and the new wardrobe. Heck, I don't think even half of those clothes are even the right size, I was guessin' for most of 'em. You think they'll grow into some of the bigger ones?"
"I should only hope so. They are very small, so maybe giving them room to grow is for the best."
Asriel was watching the conversation between them with a bizarre expression, and he looked away immediately when Sans tried to inspect the look. It was off putting, to say the least.
"We'll wait up for ya," Sans patted his brother on the shoulder before he left. "Here's your keys back, by the way."
"I believe it may have been a mistake buying a convertible," Papyrus frowned as he took the keys.
"Why's that, bro?"
"Because it fills up with water every time it rains. I mean, whose terrible idea was that?"
Sans couldn't really tell him what he wanted to through his laughter.
Sans stepped out of the shortcut with Frisk holding his hand, and he sighed quietly as he finally let himself relax a little. The living room of the new house was dark, but Sans didn't mind. He simply dropped onto the plush sofa and settled comfortably in, folding his hands over one another and closing his eye sockets. Frisk clambered up onto the couch beside him and hugged him, and Sans couldn't keep the grin off of his face. He was in a safe place. Finally. He could just hold onto Frisk and stop being so paranoid for a little bit. He refused to look into the dark corner of the room. He wouldn't even think about him. He didn't feel like he was being watched. He just felt as at home as if he were in Snowdin. He could easily take a nap like this, although Frisk was shifting quite a bit in his lap.
"… Sans?" Frisk asked after a while.
"What's up, buddy?" he cracked an eye socket. He saw that their face was a little flushed and they were giving him a very strange look that he could not identify. He hated not being able to tell what kind of look they were giving him, it made him feel as if he were being deliberately ignorant.
"Um… m-my belly hurts…" they held a hand over their lower stomach, looking at him pleadingly. "Can… can you…?"
"No," he said instantly, trying not to flinch when they pouted. "No . I-I can't, I just can't babybones."
"But you said you would… !" Frisk stuck out their bottom lip, batting their lashes a little. "Come on… please? Please, Sansy…?" they whispered against the side of his head, brushing his collarbone with their fingertips and making him shiver.
"I-I…" he started to choke, feeling as if there were a ball lodged in his throat. He couldn't. He just couldn't. It didn't matter if they looked at him like that, he had to fight it. He couldn't cave in. He was already ruining their life, he couldn't just make it worse.
Then again, what could a little more really hurt…?
Sans shook his head sharply, steadying his breathing.
"… Sans? Please, Sans, it hurts, it itches…"
"Don't-don't do this to me," he begged quietly. "Please. God, please, babybones. I-I can't… we were gonna be okay . I can't… how-how 'bout somethin' else?"
Oh god don't go to that dark corner of your mind just focus for the love of god focus don't fuck up that's all you have to do is not fuck up for five goddamned minutes-
"Can… can I have a doggie treat…?" Frisk asked quietly. Sans could have cried . Sans swallowed hard and dug in his pocket for a few moments, pulling out one of his last biscuits. Frisk lit up a little when he flicked his lighter on, taking a long, slow drag and closing his eye sockets as Frisk gladly took it from his hand. They passed it back and forth for a while, and he hoped they didn't notice how much his hands were trembling. He could feel his weary bones finally, finally relaxing a little bit. He felt a little dizzier, a little giddier with every drag, but it was fine. He could just stay with Frisk for a while. That was all that he wanted. Frisk finished off the biscuit quickly with a sputtering cough, and Sans used a little burst of magic to incinerate it completely. He sighed quietly as Frisk cuddled up against him on his lap, burying their face against his chest.
"Thank you," Frisk murmured contentedly. "I needed that."
"This is fucked up," Sans groaned, covering his eye sockets with the palms of his hands. "Oh, god, I should not be giving you dog biscuits. I'm such a shitstain . What am I thinking, what in the actual fuck am I doing with my life."
"But I like them a lot…" Frisk gently reached up to brush their fingers over his chin, making him shiver again. "I really like them. Thank you for making me feel so good, Sans…"
"Don't mention it," he sighed and closed his eye sockets, not really bothered that their hands seemed to be exploring his face, his neck, his chest, gently pressing against his bones. "Seriously. Don't mention it. Paps would fuckin' kill me if he found out."
"I don't like having to keep so many secrets…" Frisk frowned, not removing their hands from his face.
"I know, babybones," he gently hugged them. "I know."
"… Why is your face so weird?"
"I dunno. Was that a jab?" Sans blinked woozily.
"It feels funny…" Frisk readjusted themselves until they were straddling his lap, pressing and pulling on his cheeks a little more roughly. "Like, it's not really what I thought it would be like. I thought you would be, like… really hard."
"Made of love and magic, remember?" he winked at them, reaching up and pinching their cheeks softly. "Sorry I don't have sweet meaty bits like you, babybones."
"Sweet meaty bits? You don't have to be sorry," Frisk giggled, leaning forward and kissing his cheek gently. They glanced away, disappointment plain on their face. "I'm… I'm sorry I'm not a monster too."
"Hey. Hey now," he held up their chin with his thumb, forcing them to look him in the eyes. "You are wonderful. Okay? Don't you ever, ever be sorry for what you are, because you are perfect just the way that you are. We all love you no matter what."
Frisk choked suddenly, glancing away with their cheeks flushed. Sans pulled them a little closer into a tight hug, and they squeezed him back warmly.
"… I love you Sans."
"I love you too, babybones."
Sans stayed like that for a while before he finally asked what was on his numbed mind. "… Kid."
"Yeah, Sans."
"Why do you keep squishing my face?" he asked as Frisk pushed his cheeks together a little.
"Because you feel so funny," Frisk giggled lightly. "Funny bones."
"I'm beginning to think you might have had a bit too much of that biscuit."
"How can you stand the taste?" they frowned. "I can't…" Frisks stuck out their tongue with a bleh a couple of times. "Tastes weird. I can't get the taste out of my mouth now… kind… kind of, like…"
Frisk reddened a little bit, giving him another one of those strange looks. Sans only sighed and closed his eye sockets, carefully drawing them into a hug. If he didn't think about it then it wouldn't be a problem.
"Is Asriel really gonna stay with us…?" Frisk asked after a while.
"Hm. Somebody was eavesdropping…" Sans didn't bother opening his eye sockets, but he did brush their head softly, getting his phalanges tangled in their hair. He could feel the heat emanating from them, warming his tired bones. All it took was a tiny burst of magic to reach out to them, to check on their soul to see it for himself. It was sudden and sharp, like an electrical spark. He could feel their soul beating heavily against him, emotion flooding him suddenly like a wildfire. He could sense them close to him, their every breath, their every heartbeat, and it was so overwhelming that for a while he couldn't even think through the shock of the moment.
He was, for lack of a better term, utterly shell shocked.
His mind was reeling, he could see them before him and feel them, feel their soul beating like a drum against him, fiery and loving and merciful and so alive . It lasted only a bare moment, but to Sans it was like hours and hours were passing, and his hands were trembling terribly as he held on to them, eye sockets wide as he stared into nothing. His breathing was heavy, his mind was numb, he couldn't think clearly. It was almost like living through a reset but without the horrible migraines of memories that didn't belong crashing together. Sans wasn't entirely certain how to process what had just happened, whatever had happened. He finally seemed to gather some sense of himself back after a while, and Frisk was clinging to him like a man in stormy waters clings to a raft. He couldn't quite handle what had just happened, he wasn't even certain what had happened. Couldn't breathe. Frisk was saying something to him, murmuring softly in words that he couldn't hear, and he wound up being pressed back against the couch, closing his weary eye sockets for a moment.
Sans then swore off dog biscuits for a long while.
Sans didn't want to move. He just wanted to stay there with Frisk for a while, leaning back and emptying his mind out as they held on to him.
"That was amazing…" he heard Frisk murmur against the side of his head. "Oh god. Oh god, oh gosh yes, thank you Sansy…"
"Didn't… do it on… purpose," Sans mumbled, his headache slowly returning. Was that even the truth? What had even happened in that brief moment? He just wanted to check on them. That's all he wanted. What exactly did he do that could have caused a reaction like that, something that rocked him to his very core? He hadn't touched their soul, he hadn't even brought it out, but he could still feel them atop him, so vibrant, so alive. He could feel that little spark in his chest cry out in joy when they kissed his cheek, and he closed his tired eye sockets for a moment. He just needed to think. Needed to comprehend just what had happened. Maybe the biscuits had been laced. That had to be it. There wasn't anything wrong with him. He wasn't an abomination. Maybe if he kept telling himself that then eventually he would believe it.
Sans wanted to keep thinking on the matter. He wanted to decipher exactly what had occurred to incite the strange feeling that had just changed how he thought about them. He wanted to just be.
It was getting harder and harder the longer that Frisk tasted his neck. He was too hot, too sweaty, too overwhelmed.
Sans was unable to contain a quiet groan as their warm tongue found its way down his shivering vertebra, their hot breath against his aching bones-
Sans had to consider several things all at once. First of all, this was very much not okay. He wasn't even close to sober right now, and he could still tell that it was not okay. He was already on edge and Frisk was most certainly not helping to calm him down. This needed to stop before something escalated, and if it did then Sans knew for a fact that there was no returning from the event horizon. He had to do something, to say something, literally anything. The worst possible thing that he could do was what he always did.
Nothing .
That was an absolutely terrifying thought.
He could do what he was best at.
He could do what he loved to do the most.
He could fall into that same trap that he always did, every single time.
All he had to do was… nothing. Not a thing.
Not a goddamn thing.
What was the point in trying? His soul was already filthy and stained. What was one more drop of ink on his blackened soul anyway? He knew it wasn't really black. He'd seen it. But it felt like it sometimes. Like he could crack open that white soul and find the repulsive sins spilling out of it and all over his hands like a rotten egg. And if he didn't try, he was only damning himself even further. But how much worse could he possibly get? He really was an utterly vile creature.
Just fucking do something already.
"Frisk," Sans managed to speak at long last, trying to pull them away. They moaned softly and continued down his neck, hands ghosting over his trembling ribs. He took in a shuddering breath, his hands shaking as he gripped their wrists. He was losing it. He was losing his mind. All he had to do was pull them away. That was all that he had to do. He was stronger than them. He just had to push them away. It was so simple. Easy to do. Even an idiot could do it. He was facing a turning point, and making the wrong turn could not just ruin him, but ruin them as well. He was staring down a dark crossroads and he didn't know which way to turn, and it was slowly driving him completely mad.
Why is it so fucking hard.
"B-babybones." Sans ever so slowly pried their hands away, shivering as they scraped their fingers over his ribs. "Baby. Babybones. You've… you've gotta listen to me."
"I'm so hot, Sans…" Frisk whispered, kissing him warmly. "It hurts. It itches, I just… I just need it, please, I need some more, Sansy… I'll… I'll be good. I promise . I just need a hit-"
"Frisk," Sans steeled himself, taking a shaking breath, his grip on them tightening a little too much. "This-this stops. Right now," he held them back a little. "Look - fucking look at me, " Sans growled deeply, causing them to flinch hard. "Frisk," he said a little more softly, taking their hand in his. At least his voice was coming out a little calmer sounding than he actually was. "Buddy. We're… we're both kinda toasted . This isn't something you want. Just… just trust in me."
"I know what you want…" Frisk murmured slyly, shifting in his lap. If Sans was sweating before, he was leaking by this point.
"No, babybones. Frisky-bits," he said softly, brushing their hair. "You need to listen to me. Okay? It… it's breakin' my damned heart."
"You… you don't really want me," Frisk tried to blink in shock through their tears that streamed down their cheeks, and they shook violently as they tried to cover their face. "I t-thought t-that you l-loved me… !" they hiccuped miserably as they sobbed, and Sans slowly, carefully drew them into a hug, even though they weakly tried to push him away they soon gave up and just cried into his chest, shaking and sniffling bitterly.
"Kiddo," Sans held them close, his throat feeling raspy as he tried not to let them see just how badly rattled he was. God, absolutely nothing about this was right. "Don't-don't say that. Don't you ever, ever say that again. I do love you, Frisky-bits. I love you so much that it fuckin' hurts, god help me it hurts . I just… I just wanna take care of you," he stuttered, squeezing them softly and pulling away a little to dry their tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "I love you more than life itself, babybones. Mai little babybones. I love you. Don't ever, ever think otherwise."
"… I l-love you t-too, Sans," Frisk mumbled through their tears, burying their face against his chest.
"It's… it's gonna be okay," he promised quietly as he brushed their hair with his phalanges. "It's gonna be okay. I promise, baby. Just… trust in me."
"I do trust you, Sans," they replied softly without lifting their face from his chest. "… I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone."
Frisk froze suddenly, jerking back and clapping a hand over their mouth. Their eyes were wide and they looked ready to cry again.
"… Kid?"
"I… I made Chara mad…" Frisk pulled at their hair in distress. "They're mad, they're so mad… !"
"Baby. Babybones," Sans tried desperately to console them, as they were already beginning to hyperventilate. "C'mon, kiddo. S-stay with me. Stay with me," he grasped their hand firmly but gently, and they eventually looked at him for a moment before closing their eyes and swallowing hard. "You… you okay, kiddo?"
Frisk looked pale and ready to be sick, but they finally nodded and held their forehead against his, sighing quietly.
"Just… just stay with me here, Frisk," Sans pleaded softly. He felt so tired. So drained. So empty. So broken down. Like he was barely even a person anymore. "Listen. Okay? It's alright."
"I am here, Sans," Frisk answered quietly without moving, staring into his eyes. "It's… it's me. It's just… me ."
Sans didn't know how long they stayed there. He didn't care. He didn't want to care. Caring took so much effort, so much work, it was utterly exhausting. He just needed time to recharge. He wasn't certain when Frisk had fallen asleep against him, and he eventually let out a weary groan and checked for the clock. Of course, there wasn't one, so Sans gave up searching and went for guessing the time instead. He gently picked up the sleeping Frisk as softly as he could, carrying them one step at a time up the stairs, careful not to move them too much. He carefully laid them down on their bed and tucked them in, and Frisk mumbled something but he couldn't make it out. He couldn't even focus he was so tired. He wound up sitting beside the bed on the floor, his head against the mattress as he closed his weary eye sockets.
He was still sitting there holding Frisk's hand, snoozing heavily with his chin on his chest when Papyrus finally checked on them. The taller skeleton started to wake him before drawing his hand back, letting out a quiet sigh before he draped a spare sheet over Sans's lap, leaving him to sleep with Frisk's hand in his.
Just as the night before, Asriel did not sleep at all. He only sat in the new room that they had made for him, adorned with a little bed and a nightstand with a lamp that served as his only source of light, as the curtains were drawn to block out the bright moonlight. He stared at the lamp for a long while, unable to peer away from the light. He couldn't stay like this forever. Any moment now he was going to crumble to dust all over again. He could still feel the burning ache in his chest from where he had been shot so long ago, even though there was no wound every time that he checked. He was… pristine.
As if he had never died at all.
Asriel ensured that he was completely alone before he drew out 'his' soul, looking dimly at the fractured portion of a soul. How he could even live with something like this was beyond him. No doubt it would fall apart completely at any moment, and then he would wake up as an emotionless flower all over again and nothing even mattered .
He wanted to sob, to cry out in defeat, to scream in despair, but his throat was just so sore. He couldn't cry anymore. He was just so tired. He held his head in his paws, rocking back and forth as the memories upon memories of things that he had experienced, he had said, he had done continued to flood him just as they had from the moment he awakened. He wanted to be sick with himself, but he couldn't even throw up anymore. He'd tried. For so long he had wanted to just be alive again, and now that he had it he couldn't imagine anything more satisfying than just getting it all over with.
He let out a hiss as he dragged a sharp little claw over his forearm again, adding to the collection of little dusted grey lines across his arm. So long as he still had pain, he could remind himself that he didn't have a stem or leaves or petals. Pain was an anchor, it reminded him that he was still alive, that he was still here.
And he could see all of their faces, all of the people that he had wronged, all of the misery that he had put them through and being trapped inside his own head watching it all over again and again was the worst hell that he could possibly imagine.
From the darkest corner of the room, Asriel occasionally noticed the smiling figure watching him the entire time. He didn't care. He would go away soon enough. Sooner or later they all left him alone, like he deserved.
Even when he was surrounded by others he would still be alone.
He missed Papyrus. The only truly good person he had ever found.
Papyrus hadn't given up on him, so he couldn't give up on Papyrus.
He just couldn't. Papyrus stayed with him for so long. He wanted to help him, like he did everyone. He was a good person.
So if Papyrus would stay around, then maybe he could, too.
Sans awoke sometime in the middle of the night, his back aching. He glanced about in the dark for a while, trying to let his eye sockets adjust. He paused for a moment, uncertainly before he realized that he had something on him. He had a sheet draped over him and he silently let go of Frisk's hand as it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He had a pounding headache and his back felt like it was on fire. He stretched hard and popped his weary joints, leaning over and stroking Frisk's hair as he tucked them in properly. A small smile tugged at their lips in their sleep. Sans sighed quietly and stood fully, yawning behind his hand and leaving them to rest. He dragged his feet out and silently closed the door behind him. He wanted to just crawl into bed and rest, but he noticed a light on downstairs.
Sans carefully made his way down the polished oak steps, not used to floorboards that didn't squeak and creak when he walked on them. He trodded onward and found Papyrus sitting at the kitchen table with his back to him, nursing a drink in his hand. Sans silently stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing his head to jerk up as he stared at Sans. The lights in his eye sockets were a little fuzzy, and Sans could easily tell from his breath that he had definitely had more than one hard drink.
"… You okay, bro?" Sans asked quietly. Seeing Papyrus drink just seemed… wrong, on more than one level. Papyrus only sighed and shook his head, frown almost stapled to his face.
"No, Sans," he answered truthfully. "I am most certainly not okay." Sans rubbed his shoulder for a moment before he pulled a bottle of ketchup out of the thankfully stocked refrigerator, sitting down across from the skeleton and pulling his jacket a little tighter around him.
"… You wanna talk about it?" Sans said gently, popping the top off the ketchup and taking a few swigs.
"Not really," he shrugged, rubbing his head. There were deep lines under his eye sockets, and he just looked so haggard that it made Sans's soul ache. "But I think it would help."
"Lay it on me bro," he steeled himself internally.
"Well, there are a number of things that I'm concerned about," Papyrus began slowly. "On the one hand, I am extremely worried about Frisk. Tearing off part of their soul can't have been too good for them. I fear for their health. I think maybe we should take another look at their soul…"
Sans began sweating bullets.
"Uh. That's-that's already taken care of," Sans said quickly. "Me and Al already took the kid to the lab to get 'em checked out. Did loads of tests. They-they seem to be pretty okay," he ran a hand over his head nervously. "Don't even worry about it, bro. You-you sounded like somethin' else was bothering ya too," Sans desperately hoped that he would change the conversation.
"Those humans," Papyrus said slowly, turning his bottle around in his hand and staring down at the table. "The ones who threw that brick through Blake's window. You… you don't think they'll resort to-to anything serious, do you?"
"They'd have to be suicidal," he shrugged. "I mean, come on. Ticking off the guy who literally punched a god in the face? That's either suicide or stupidity, maybe a mix of both."
"Regardless," Papyrus frowned, looking away sadly. "I'm… I don't know what to think about the prince."
"What'cha mean?"
"I mean, I knew him for so long as Flowey…" he stared down at the swirling wood grain. "And sometimes it's like part of him is still in there. I'm worried for him. For Asriel, I mean. I just… I just want him to be okay. And, and I… I don't know how to fix him." Welcome to my life, pal.
"Okay," Sans said slowly, letting out a quiet sigh. "There's… quite a few things there that I'm not really sure how to address. So, uh. I guess let's start with the kid. The fuzzy one, I mean."
"He has issues," Papyrus said with a blank face. Sans snorted and shook his head.
"Uh. Yeah. I, uh. Guess that's one way of putting it."
"Sometimes he still thinks that he's Flowey," Papyrus said quietly, taking a slow drink and shuddering at the taste. Sans tried not to look away from the sight. He did not like the idea of Papyrus drinking. "He's… he told me some… things. About the resets ." Sans's marrow froze in his bones.
"… And, uh… what-what exactly did he tell you…?" Sans tried to ask calmly, even though he was practically ready to bolt. Papyrus took a long, slow, deep breath, rubbing his temple with his remaining hand.
"He told me about some of the things that-that he had done…" he continued quietly, unable to meet his brother's gaze. "Some… very, very bad things, Sans."
"Because he's a twisted demented fuck-" Sans started before Papyrus's fist hit the table, making him jump.
"That was not -" he said through his teeth before closing his eye sockets. "Just… Sans. Please. That… that wasn't him. Not Asriel. Flowey is… gone. And I-I do regret what… had to be done. He was, for all of his flaws, my closest friend. I… I'm not stupid, Sans. I know now that he did some… pretty terrible things. But he didn't have a soul. He was… literally incapable of feeling. He wasn't right in the head. Asriel and Flowey are not the same person. I understand if you hated Flowey. But, please, Sans. Don't… don't take that out on Asriel."
Sans felt as if he had just been slapped .
"I-I wasn't - I mean, I didn't -" he sputtered. "Bro. Broseph. Papyrus," Sans tried to recollect himself. "I-I don't h-have anything against the kid-"
"Sans."
He said it so sharply that if Sans had ears they would be bleeding.
"I'm not… I'm not asking you to forgive Flowey," he softened a little, looking away. "I'm… having a bit of difficulty doing that too. More than a bit . All I'm asking is that you give Asriel a chance . He's been through so much. He just needs help, Sans."
"Some people can't be helped," Sans stared down at his folded hands, closing his eye sockets for a moment. "Some… some people can't be fixed."
"I'm not an idiot, I know that," Papyrus frowned at him. "There's absolutely no way that I can fix all of this, especially by myself. But, I believe, truly believe, that with love and care and friends and family, that even if I can't fix all of this, maybe… maybe I could help treat the problem."
Papyrus really was so much of a better person than he was. Here he sat already steeped in his own dejection, very nearly dragging his own brother down with him. He really was a vile creature.
Sans blinked, digging hopefully in his pocket for a moment.
"… Hey," he tried to clear his throat after a few moments, pulling out the card that Richard had given him. "I… think I might be able to help."
"What's this?" Papyrus plucked it from his outstretched hand, staring at the polished black card.
"Blake's bro gave me that," Sans shrugged. "Said we should go check 'em out. They're a psychiatrist."
"I'm sorry, a what," he stared at him.
"Y'know. A shrink?" Sans frowned. "I'm not too keen on the idea either, but the kid needs… a lot. A hell of a lot more than either of us can give 'em. So… maybe a professional is just what we need."
"You make it sound as if you actually want to help Asriel or something," Papyrus said dryly.
"Bro. Of course I'm gonna help," Sans crossed his arms, narrowing his skeletal eyebrows at him. "You think I'm just gonna leave it all to you like a lazybones? Yeah, I'm still pissed off at the flower. Can't imagine who wouldn't be. But… he's not exactly the plant anymore. He's a kid. A dumb, hairy, obnoxious, whiny, snot nosed-"
"Sans."
"-little kid," he finished somewhat lamely. "I just… I can't leave you to try to do so much by yourself, Paps. I'm… gonna do whatever it takes."
"… Thank you, Sans," Papyrus's expression softened a little. "Thank you. I'm… I'm glad that I can count on you."
"No problem, 'Pyrus," Sans gave him a watery grin. He stretched and yawned wearily, rubbing his aching back. "I'm… I'm gonna turn in for the night. You want me ta read you a story?"
"I'm not a babybones anymore Sans…" Papyrus crossed his arm and a half. "I-I can read myself, you know."
"I know, bro. Just thought I'd offer."
"Thank you, Sans," he nodded to him quietly. "I'll… I'll be up for a while. You should get some rest."
"You… you want me to stay up with ya?" Sans stuck his hands in his pockets. "I don't mind-"
"Really, brother," Papyrus stood slowly and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Get some sleep. You look terrible."
"Gee, thanks," Sans grinned and shrugged. "I just… I just want you to know that-that I'm here for you, bro. If you need me."
"… Step outside with me for a moment, will you?" Papyrus left the kitchen, and Sans followed wordlessly as he walked out the front door. Sans latched it closed behind him, uncertain of what Papyrus was up to. Sans took in a deep breath of the cool night air, watching as Papyrus craned his neck up as he stood on the front lawn. They simply stood there together for a while, neither willing to break the silence. It still smelled lightly of fresh rain, but maybe just for a little while, it was raining somewhere else.
"It's… it's beautiful, isn't it?" Papyrus gazed up at the clear sky, dotted with countless stars. He let out a shaky breath, running a gloved hand over his head. "It really is amazing. What Frisk has given us. Given all of us. This…" he blinked something out of his vision, rubbing his eye sockets. "It really is amazing, Sans. I just… have to take it all in, sometimes."
"It's definitely somethin'," Sans stood beside his brother, staring up at the stars with his arms folded loosely. "It's… beautiful out here. Up on the surface."
He didn't know why he sounded so bitter. He had a pretty good idea though. The resets were inevitable. They always were. He blinked when Papyrus gently clasped his shoulder, and Sans let out a quiet sigh. He closed his eye sockets for a few moments before returning with Papyrus to look up at the sky.
Sans didn't know for how long he simply stood outside with Papyrus with his hand on his shoulder, staring up at the sparkling stars. He didn't really care.
For just a little while, he could be… content .
He didn't want this moment to end. He just wanted to stay with his brother for a while longer. He wanted this to last. He wanted Papyrus to remember. He had so many lost moments with his brother that would never come back. He didn't know how he could handle his brother knowing about the resets. And deep down, Sans wasn't just apprehensive of the ensuing resets that would wipe his brother's mind yet again. He was afraid . He could lose this little moment at any time. So what was the point in trying to hold on when it could all be jerked out from under his feet at any moment? Papyrus seemed to notice his distress and his hand loosened on his shoulder a little, but stayed firm.
He was so damned scared, and he hated it.
But what was he supposed to do?
Sans could only sigh and stand there beside him, looking out over the endless star dotted inky expanse.
All he wanted was to hang on to this little moment, despite how terrified he was of losing it all over again. He wanted to try. He just wanted something to hang on to. Someone to hang on to. Maybe Papyrus wouldn't understand that. Maybe nobody ever would. Maybe didn't matter. Maybe it never did at all.
Sans pondered this for hours as they stood beneath the ever watchful stars.
Sans was falling.
He was definitely sick of the feeling.
It had to be a dream. It didn't really feel like one. He wanted to be near Frisk again, he wanted to hold on to them. They were his anchor, a reminder that he was still there, that they were okay. He felt himself drifting through blackness, and he let out a weary breath as he hanged in the dark, seeing so many different colors in the darkness that it made him briefly wonder if it was really as black as he assumed.
"What the fuck do you want, Gaster."
Sans didn't even care anymore. He knew that he was there, that he was watching him like always. He could feel that wretched smirk on him, and Sans wasn't entirely certain when he finally spotted the grinning specter whether he had simply appeared or had been there in the dark the entire time.
"You're losing touch, Sans…" Gaster stood before him calmly with his hands clicking together, sounding like rattling chain link fencing. "I only want to speak with you."
"All I have to say is that I've got a bucket for you," Sans stuck his hands in his pockets. "A great big bucket plum full of go fuck yourself."
"You always did have a mouth on you," Gaster reached out for him and Sans slapped the holed hand away, and it was like trying to smack smoke for all the good that it did. "You've grown. Well. Not by much," he smirked a little, his cracked grin widening just a fraction. Sans hated seeing that plastic look on him, so much.
"It's not enough that you've gotta fuck with me while I'm awake, now you have to do it while I'm asleep, too?" Sans tried to stay calm to the best of his ability. He felt like he was being slowly smothered by the dark, and he had to fight not to scream. "No changes there, right, you creepy shit?"
"Who's to say that I'm not merely a figment of your imagination?" Gaster slithered over what might have been the floor of whatever dark place he was, towering over him. "And believe me. I have seen what lurks in your rather… depraved imagination."
"Fuck off! " Sans screamed, reaching deep for magic that would not answer him. He only wound up stumbing backwards to avoid Gaster's touch and wound up backing into him where the figure
that used to be a skeleton caught him. He jerked out of his grasp and stood breathily, feeling too sweaty, too cramped.
"Is it so wrong of me to want to see my sons again?" Gaster asked in a surprisingly soft tone.
"Gee Dad, I dunno. Maybe it has something to do with you horribly torturing us."
"In a timeline or two, yes," Gaster gave a slight tilt of his head. "But perhaps I am not the same person that you knew. Someone wiser than I once was. I only wish for you to see that, Sans. Have I still not proven my worth?"
"What is that even supposed to mean?" Sans wanted nothing more than to blast him until not even dust remained. "You think bringin' a kid back is supposed to just make everything better?"
"I had to make a point," Gaster's fingers clicked together, the scraping sound of bone grating against him. "I cannot be at fault if you are incapable of seeing it."
"See what?" Sans gestured around at the dark abyss. "That you're a manipulative sociopath and I wish you were even more dead than you are now?"
Gaster was behind him suddenly, his holed hand on his shoulder, and Sans instinctively shuddered and pulled away, glowering hatefully at him.
"I could show you so much, Sans…" Gaster said through that plastered smile. "I could show you all of eternity."
"I think I'll pass," Sans said as dryly as a desert storm. "I kind of like not having you around, thanks."
Gaster's smile… splintered, a little, his face cracking and oozing before reforming, the figure shifting through the dark to stand in front of him.
"Do you even understand what you are saying?" he hissed through his grin. "Of what I can offer you if you just let me in? You're trading immortality and omnipotence for broken little children and dog biscuits," a hint of disgust slipped through his voice for a moment before that pseudo peaceful expression fell back over his face. "I can help you, Sans. I can give you whatever you desire."
"Alright. How's about this? 'Cause right now what I desire is some freakin' answers. What's it to you if the kid resets or not?" Sans stared at him, trying to discern what he could from his frozen face.
"I want you to learn, Sans," Gaster ticked his fingers together rhythmically. "That is all. Truly. You don't learn anything at all through those fractures in time. I see all of time, all of every time, they are mine. I don't want them to be interfered with. Is that not a satisfactory enough answer for you?"
"Hell, I might do it just to fuck with you," Sans admitted with a shrug. Gaster's smile dipped for only a moment before he was behind Sans again, leaning over him with a little sigh. Sans cringed and swung at the figure to no avail, as Gaster reappeared a short distance away. "Stay away from me, you psychotic bastard!"
"You are so jumpy. Is it truly so hard for you to understand,
Sans…?" Gaster asked quietly, but he
could still hear him. "You are… stuck. You are trapped and you have only yourself to blame. It hurts me to see you suffering, over and over and over again, never learning. You keep doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. And you call me crazy," he tittered, the clicking and clacking of bone making Sans shudder. He just sounded… wrong. This was all wrong . He felt sick, he wanted to be with his brother, with his kid. He shouldn't even be giving this creep the time of day. He didn't need to be around him, he should be with his family. They anchored him to reality. He needed them. Was it selfish to want them to need him, too? He could almost make out their forms in the shadows, but they were gone the next moment he tried to focus on them. "Perhaps you are the one who is unstable, Sans… after all, are you entirely certain that I'm really here? Can you even be certain about yourself?"
The only answer Sans had for him was to give him a very large collection of choice words and flip him the bird.
And then he continued falling, the silence drowning him completely.
Unsurprisingly to him, Sans woke up screaming.
Sans instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth as fast as he could manage, biting down on his tongue hard. So long as he could feel pain he could know that he was awake, that he wasn't-
… Where had he just been again?
Sans tried to steady his shaking breathing as he lay back on his pillows, covering his eye sockets with the palms of his hands. He was sweating heavily and trembling, but for the life of him he couldn't quite seem to remember why. He glanced out the window at the steady snowfall-
Sans jerked awake fully, forcing himself to peer out the window again. Streetlights shining in the distance. The early morning glow of the sunrise just before dawn. He tried to lay back down again, letting out a quiet whimper as he covered his face. He was so tired. It was getting harder and harder to really keep track when he was asleep. He knew what would happen if he closed his eye sockets for too long, he would wake up in Snowdin with Papyrus knocking on his bedroom door and god what was even the fucking point in getting out of bed anymore.
Sans curled up in a little ball and tucked his arms against his legs, closing his eye sockets and pressing his forehead against the cool bedroom wall. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep for a little while. He wanted rest. But it felt as if rest would never, ever come to him, so what was even the point? He didn't care. He didn't want to care. It took too much effort. He just wanted to close his weary eye sockets and stop being for a while. Was that really so much to ask for? He didn't want to be awake. He didn't want to be asleep, either. He just wanted it all to stop .
He had to stop himself from instinctively reaching for magic. Why was that always his first reaction to solving problems without immediate answers? Was he really that lazy that he thought he could just wave his hand and make all of the issues just go away? Why couldn't things ever be that simple?
Sans stayed like that for a while before his own morbid curiosity eventually got the best of him. He drew out his soul wordlessly, staring numbly at the white soul. It wasn't so much that it looked a little… paler than normal that bothered him. It was the spot .
It had… grown, significantly, into a blotchy red angry looking blister on his soul, like there was something inside of him that was trying to claw its way out. It looked a little melted, almost like his soul was trying to dissolve the foreign fragment. Only more proof that he was a miserable creature. Even his own soul didn't want to exist. Sans shuddered and pushed his soul back into his chest, too afraid to even touch it. He didn't want to accidentally see something about himself that he didn't want to. He didn't want to face whatever the hell he was turning into. He didn't want to face anything; he just wanted to shut off his aching mind for a bit and try to relax his tired bones to wait for rest that refused to answer his call.
Sans didn't know for how long he simply laid there, staring at the wall. He wanted to curl up with his jacket, but it was still hanging on the back of his door in one of the few times that he actually removed it. He tried sticking his hands into his turtleneck a couple of times before he discovered what he was doing, and went back to staring a hole in the wall in utter silence.
He was drawn out of his reverie after a while. For a moment he didn't realize whether or not it was the early morning birdsong, or the rustle of wind in the trees outside the house, and it took him a while longer to fully recognize that he was listening to the soft sniffling and hiccuping coming from the next room. Sans sighed quietly and rubbed his eye sockets, ever so slowly dragging himself upward. He sat in bed for a few seconds, running a hand over the top of his head.
Here we go.
He fell into a shortcut and emerged from the void into Frisk's dark room, the window shades drawn. Sans simply stood there in the corner of their room for a while, hands in his short pockets. Frisk didn't seem to even notice him, as they were too preoccupied with slowly rocking back and
forth on their bed, knees drawn up to their chest. They were crying softly as they pulled at their hair, whispering to themselves the entire time. Sans was a little surprised to see them wearing the jacket that Papyrus had given them as a disguise, even though they technically didn't even need it now.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Frisk murmured with another hiccup, not bothering to wipe their nose as they wept. "I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry, please come back…"
Ah. So that's what it was. Sans assumed that it had something to do with Chara. Why couldn't the brat just let his kid rest in peace? Why did they have to be such a constant pain in the ass?
Sans paused for a moment, not even breathing.
All he was thinking about was what a hassle they were. He was so cold. So numb.
What in the hell was wrong with him?
Didn't he care? Didn't he love them?
Why did he feel like this?
"… Hey," Sans forced himself to move forward a step, causing Frisk to jerk wildly, staring up at him with bloodshot eyes.
Frisk's mouth opened and closed several times as they stared at him, wiping their eyes furiously with their sleeves. They only shook their head and backed up until their back was against the headboard, clinging to their knees tightly. Sans sighed quietly and stood beside the bed, hands still in his pockets.
"… Sorry if I scared ya. You mind if I sit down?" Sans gestured at the bed. Frisk gave him a strange look and shook their head after a moment, looking away. Sans let out a light breath and carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, his feet barely touching the floor. He didn't move. He didn't approach them any further. He simply sat there with his hands folded in his lap as he stared at the wall. He closed his eye sockets after a while, his head dipping a little as sleep ever so gently reminded him that he could be unconscious right now. Sans wasn't certain of how long it was, but it must have been a while, because eventually he saw that the early morning light was beginning to peek through the window shades. Frisk crawled over the bed and reached out for him, and he gently pulled them into a loose hug. He stroked their hair in complete silence, neither of them daring to speak for the longest time.
"… You okay, baby?" Sans dried their eyes with his sleeve, brushing their hair with his phalanges. Frisk just shook their head, burying their face against his chest. He sighed quietly and held them for a while longer. "You… you wanna talk 'bout it?"
"No."
"You-you know you can talk to me. Right, babybones?" he rubbed the top of their head gently. "You… you don't look so good, kiddo.
You didn't sleep much either, huh."
"Scary dreams…" they muttered, sighing and hugging him close.
"I know. You wanna talk about that then?"
"No. Don't wanna talk."
"Alright, babybones. Just… I'm here. Okay? So don't be sad. It's gonna be okay."
Frisk wouldn't talk any more after that, regardless of his increasingly desperate attempts to get them to do so. He spent what must have been an hour simply holding on to them and slowly rocking back and forth with them until they could stop crying. They looked so thin, so pale, it made him uneasy. Maybe they just weren't eating enough.
"… C'mon," Sans said after a while, brushing the hair from their eyes. "Let's go get you some breakfast. That sound good to you, kiddo?"
Frisk only shrugged and looked away.
"Hey. Come on, buddy," Sans ruffled their hair somewhat playfully. "I'll rustle us up some grub. We can go get somethin' on your stomach and we'll watch some dumb movies today. That sound good to you?"
Frisk shrugged again, still not looking at him. Were they angry with him? He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. He didn't want them to be angry at him. It didn't really matter if they were, they would get over it. Why was he being so paranoid about it? It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything.
But it was. To him, anyway.
"Come on, babybones," Sans said softly, standing slowly as he held their hand. "Can't just lay in bed all day. You don't wanna wind up bein' a lazybones like me, right?"
"I don't care," Frisk stared at the wall with a blank expression. "It doesn't matter."
"What?" he frowned nervously. "Of-of course it matters. You… you feelin' okay, babybones?"
"No."
Sans felt their forehead with the back of his hand worriedly, but they didn't seem to have a fever.
"Is… shit. It's my fault," Sans said after a few moments of them seemingly ignoring him. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. "I-I don't… goddammit. I'm… I'm sorry, babybones."
"Don't be," Frisk still wasn't looking at him. "Just… don't."
They were being so cold, so distant, and it scared the living daylights out of him. Sans ever so softly brushed the hair from their face again, rubbing his thumb over their forehead.
"Just… come on downstairs?" he pleaded, trying not to sound as desperately pitiful as he really was. "You're… you're really makin' me worry here. I just… I love you, babybones."
"I love you too, Sans…" Frisk said bitterly. Their tone was like a knife in his chest, it ached, it hurt. They just sounded so… resigned . Like they didn't even have a choice. He held them a little closer and kissed the top of their head, sighing again.
"You worried about 'em?"
Frisk only tilted their head a little, that bizarre, blank expression still on their face.
"Chara, I mean," Sans shifted uneasily. "They… doin' okay?"
"No."
"You're really killin' me here with all the one word answers, kid," Sans frowned a little. "You sure you don't wanna tell me 'bout it?"
"No."
Sans let go of them immediately, watching their hand fall limp into their lap. He could take a hint. He was being selfish pushing them. He turned on the spot and started toward the door before he was stopped by Frisk grabbing his hand from the bed, looking at him pleafully.
"Don't… don't go?" Frisk asked softly. "P-please?"
"You're sendin' me some real mixed signals here kid," Sans sighed quietly but sat back down on the bed beside them regardless.
"I'm sorry," Frisk pulled at their hair so hard that some of it actually came out in their hands. "I just… I just don't wanna be alone."
"I'm not gonna leave you alone if you don't wanna be, babybones," Sans said softly as he let them hug him tightly. "You wanna just stay here for a while, I'm… I'm not gonna make you leave. Hell, this bed's comfy. You want some breakfast in bed? I can do that."
Frisk was looking at him with that strange, sad look again before they sighed and pressed their forehead against his chest, clinging tightly to him.
"I… I'm sorry," Frisk took a shuddering breath. "I don't wanna, butbut… Chara thinks I should."
"Thinks you should what?" Sans asked quietly, getting his phalanges tangled in their hair. "How are they holdin' up? They doin' okay?"
"Chara's mad at me," Frisk frowned and looked away. "They're mad at you too. They're so mad…"
"They can still hear, right…?" he asked experimentally. Frisk swallowed and nodded, not quite meeting his gaze. "Well, then I want them to hear this too. I love you. Both of you," Sans brushed their hair slowly. "You're both my little babybones. I'm… I'm sorry that I fucked up. I didn't mean to make things hard between ya. I know you've got kind of a… well, a really fucked up relationship with 'em. Believe me, I get it. I just… want you to know that I'm sorry. I just… I just want you to be okay."
Frisk stared at him long and hard, and Sans could not for the life of him determine the expression that they stared at him with. It upset him quite a bit, even though he wasn't entirely certain why.
Frisk took in a slow, shaky breath, closing their eyes for a moment and nodding, like they were listening to something that he couldn't hear.
"I… I had a bad dream," Frisk said after a long while of silence. Sans didn't say a word, afraid of interrupting and causing them to lapse back into that dreadful silence. He only held their hand in his, watching closely as they looked away. "I-I… I was… back there. Again. In… in the bad place."
Sans wanted to ask what they meant by the bad place, but he only bit his tongue to prevent himself from speaking.
"I-I-I…" they pulled at their hair limply, staring off into empty space. "I got it if I was good. I wanted to be good. They s-said I wasn't even rreal anymore. I didn't… matter. And-and the n-needles, so much, II…" they were trembling by this point, but Sans still couldn't speak. Couldn't remove the golf ball in his throat from seeing them so distressed. "Stuck-stuck it in m-me. Stuck, stuck me, stuck me. In my arms. In my legs. In-in my p-parts," Frisk's face was flushed as they rubbed their eyes with their free hand. "I didn't mean to f-feel good. I didn't want it, I didn't, but-but I did, I was g-good, I need it, I needed it and I d-didn't want it, I don't wanna feel good but I need to feel good and it hurts, it hurts so much Sans and I-I can't, I can't anymore, I can't I can't I can't… !"
"Easy, e-easy… !" Sans held the rocking, hyperventilating child, feeling slightly sick. Of course they'd still be having problems with the withdrawals. He felt like being ill. "Whoa, okay. Easy, kiddo. It's… it's okay," he said softly, brushing the back of their head as they cried and clung to him. "Shh. C'mon. It's… it's okay, babybones. You… you don't gotta say anymore. Okay?" he said lowly but firmly, holding them close. "It's okay. Don't freak out, alright? Shh. Please. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe here. Please, please babybones. Don't-don't cry. It's alright. You-you trust me?"
Frisk gave him a watery stare before sniffling miserably and hiding their reddened face in their hands, nodding.
"Then believe me when I say this. Nobody is ever, ever gonna hurt you again. Okay, Friskybits?" Sans said softly, hugging them close. He just wanted to take their hurt away. He just wanted to make them better. But what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to handle this? What was the right thing to say? What was the right thing to even do?
"… I love you Sans," Frisk murmured and pressed their head against his shoulder, still shaking. Hell, he was shaking at this point too, but he couldn't let them see that. Couldn't allow them to see just how absolutely furious he was that anyone had hurt them so badly. That anyone had hurt his little baby at all. He vehemently swore to himself that whenever he found whoever had hurt them he was going to make them beg for the sweet merciful release of death. And then deny them for as long as possible to drag out the punishment.
"I love you too, babybones," Sans's expression softened a little as he looked down at them. "It's gonna be okay. You don't gotta say anymore than you want to."
"I don't wanna be a thing," Frisk whispered miserably. "I don't. I don't. I wanna be real . It hurts, Sans. It hurts to be awake. It hurts to be asleep. It just hurts, all the time . I-I need to feel good again. I just want it to stop hurting ."
Sans felt as if his soul was slowly breaking apart as they spoke, and he couldn't do anything but sit there and hold them.
"You are real, babybones," he said soflty. "You're real. You're a real person, your own person. You're a good kid, Frisk."
Frisk opened and closed their mouth a few times, looking away in shame.
"I w-woke up," they said so quietly that he almost didn't hear them. "I thought I was really… really there again. With them h-hurting me. All… all the needles, the stuff they made me d-drink. They didn't care if I was sad. They just… laughed. They just laughed at me. Like-like it was funny . Like a joke that nobody would tell me the punchline to. I don't… I don't understand. I just don't understand. I dr-dreamed that I was so stretched out again like-like I was gonna break, andand nobody cared. Nobody cares about trash."
"Don't say that," Sans shook them a little by the shoulders. "Don't you ever, ever say that again. You are real, okay? Not trash. Not a thing. You're a person, a real person, and I love you more than I love life itself. You are safe, and fuckin' nobody is ever gonna hurt you ever again. So don't… don't cry, baby. Please don't cry," he brushed the tears streaming down their face, forcing them to look at him. He felt so sick to his stomach. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. Alright? You don't… you don't gotta say any more."
He didn't want to think about what they had gone through. He didn't want to imagine his poor little babybones being hurt. He wanted fucking justice.
"What was their name?" Sans asked quietly, but Frisk didn't seem to hear him. That was all that he needed. Just something to go on. Just a name, and he could figure the rest out for himself. He could find whoever had done this to his kid, to his little babybones, and finally rip them limb from screaming limb.
"I'm sorry," Frisk murmured, hiding their face behind their hands. "I'm sorry. I can't anymore. Please. N-no more. Please, please Sans. No more."
"Okay," he rubbed their back softly, his fingers lingering over the spot where their… mark was. "It's okay. You don't have to say any more."
"Thank you," Frisk rasped dryly, rubbing their eyes. "T-thank you Sans. For… for loving me."
"Of course I love you, babybones," he said gently, giving them a tight hug.
"Are you going to hurt me, too…?" Frisk asked quietly, giving him a strange tilted glance. "I would deserve it. I u-understand if you
wanna…"
"Babybones," Sans felt like punching himself. "I'm-I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. I swear. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Even if I'm b-bad…?" Frisk softly ghosted their fingers over his ribs, making him shiver a little as they stared up at him. He couldn't think about things like that, he was too tense, too sweaty. He could fight it off. It was just a thought, there was nothing to fear because he wasn't going to think horrible things. "Because I am. I'm bad, I'm just bad for… everybody ."
Sans ever so slowly grabbed their hands in his, forcing down his vile thoughts and trying his damnedest to focus. He couldn't let his mind wander to those foul, dark corners. He wouldn't sink to that level. He had to be better. He needed to change, to be better for them. They needed him, and if he slipped for even a single moment he could ruin everything. God he was such a bundle of nerves, this kid really was tearing him apart inside. It didn't help that they were still hanging on to his sensitive ribs. He slowly pulled them off, forcing himself to breathe slowly and keep in control of himself.
"Hey. Hey, look at me," he frowned as they glanced away, their cheeks pink. "Do you trust me?"
"Y-yeah…?"
"Then trust me when I say this," he said firmly. "I will never - ever hurt you. Okay? I promise. Please, babybones. Don't… don't be scared of me. I swear to whatever god there is, I will protect you. I love you so much, kiddo. So don't be sad. Don't be scared. I'm… I'm here for you."
Frisk sniffled suddenly and gave a dry sob, leaning into him and hugging him tightly.
"I love you, Sans."
"I love you too, babybones."
They stayed there for a long while as the sounds of the outside world began to quietly increase. It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming. Things would be okay. No matter what he had to do to change it for the better, he would do it. He would rip the entire world in half if it meant that he could make his little babybones happy. How could he have possibly hated them? It felt like he was a completely different person than he used to be when he looked back upon himself. And when the world inevitably reset… would he change back, too? He didn't want to. He didn't want change, but he needed it. He had to make things better, and the only way to do that was to try. He had to try harder than he had ever tried in his life.
"… Hey," he said after a while. "Why… why don't we just take a day off for today, huh? Let's invite Al and Undyne over. We'll just watch some boob tube for a while, get some popcorn, hang out for a bit." "Can… can Asriel come too?" Frisk asked quietly.
"Sure," he said without a moment's hesitation. "If you wanna see him, you can see him. Just… come downstairs with me?"
"O-okay, Sans…" they nodded after a short breath. "I'll come for you."
Don't make a lewd joke. Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare. Don't say it. Do not say it. Don't fuck up. Keep your mouth shut for once in your goddamn life-
Sans let out a sigh and ruffled their hair.
"You're a good kid, Frisky-bits. C'mon. I'll make ya some waffles with some nice strawberries and lots of syrup."
"Can I have chocolate chips in them…?" Frisk asked hopefully.
"I'll make you the best chocolate chip waffles you've ever had," he said with newfound determination. He felt a swell in his chest as they finally rose with him, and they held his hand the entire time that they walked down the stairs. Sans found Papyrus sitting at the kitchen table with a number of empty bottles in front of him. Sans froze in the doorway, feeling uncertain.
"… Papy?" Sans asked quietly, causing the sitting skeleton to jerk his head up a little.
"Oh. Good morning, Sans," Papyrus said a bit too loudly. "You're up early."
"Just makin' some breakfast," he patted Frisk's head as they hugged Papyrus before clambering up into the wooden chair beside him. "Surprised to see ya up this… this early…"
Sans stared at Papyrus long and hard, looking back and forth between him and the bottles.
"… You never even went to sleep, did you Paps."
Papyrus only sighed and dipped his head, unable to meet his gaze. Sans silently cleared the bottles from the table and dropped them into the trash.
"I have had quite a bit to… contemplate," Papyrus said slowly, slurring a little. "I-I didn't want to bother you."
"Bro," Sans said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You… you shoulda told me. I would have-"
"I know, Sans," Papyrus frowned, shrugging. "I said I don't want you
to worry. I'll fix all of this."
"You can't expect to solve everyone's problems by yourself," Sans withdrew his hand at the surprising amount of hostility in his voice, shifting from foot to foot nervously. "Just… just trust in me, Paps. I'm here for ya."
"I can handle things just fine, thank you," Papyrus scowled at him, skeletal brows furrowing deeply. Why was he being so stubborn? It was unnerving to him, and he had to fight back the tide of irritation.
"Paps. Papyrus, you are drunk," Sans crossed his arms, watching as Frisk slowly tried to make themselves unseen.
"I am not drunk !" Papyrus slammed his fist down on the table, making them all jump. "I-I just - I mean, I just… ! What's even the big deal? Do you have any idea how many times I've had to drag your drunken keister back from Grillby's? How many times you've stayed up all night drinking, but now I'm not allowed to have a rough night or something?!"
"Say whatever you want," Sans clenched and unclenched his fists angrily, struggling to keep the boiling feeling squashed down. "You are fuckin' plastered, and you get on to me for drinking?"
He regretted his words immediately, internally kicking himself for taking out his frustration on his brother of all people. God he really was vile. He wanted to say something, to apologize, to take it back, but what was he even supposed to say? He couldn't express his thoughts. They didn't even matter. They were just thoughts, and Papyrus just couldn't understand what he wanted him to. Not even at the fault of his brother, he was the problem.
Papyrus ran a hand over his head and seethed with his teeth clenched, closing his eye sockets for a moment.
"… I'm going for a damned walk," he stood suddenly, giving Frisk a very, very uncomfortable stare. Like he could see something that Sans couldn't. Like… like he knew. Sans was sweating bullets and he didn't know what to say as Papyrus stumbled off, readjusting his scarf before taking off. Sans tried to speak to him, to say something, to say anything at all, but he just stood with his arm outstretched as the front door loudly slammed closed behind him. Sans slowly dropped his arm to his side, despair slowly crawling at his belly. He should have said something. He should have stopped him, he should have done anything at all. Why was doing something such a hard thing for him? He found himself suddenly wishing for a reset so that he could try again, and he quashed the feeling as quickly as he could. He closed his eye sockets for a few seconds and pinched the bridge of his nostril bone. It took him a moment to realize that Frisk was still sitting at the kitchen table, their hands over their ears as they stared at the front door in distress.
"It's… it's okay," he tried to reassure them quietly. "He'll… he'll be okay. Just… just don't freak out, babybones. He's… dealing. Just give him some time to cool off," Sans petted them on the head before returning to his task. Sans so much wanted them to stay calm, but that was a tall order when he himself felt like completely losing his mind. Maybe Gaster had a point. Maybe he really was slowly starting to lose it. Then he rethought that and mentally kicked himself again. The old bastard was starting to get to him. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't insane.
He wasn't.
And yet the niggling little thought remained in the dark corners of his mind, laughing at him for assuming so arrogantly that he could possibly be entirely sane. But what did it even matter?
It was just a thought.