Chapter Text
Small pools of light peaked into the room, stirring you awake. The bed beneath you was soft and plush, and also unrecognizable. You ran your hand across the silken sheets, glancing around the strange room.
A tall ceiling with a real, spinning fan greeted you from above, while your hazy mind caught up with you. Taking a deep breath, you listed a few things you knew to be true: You were in District 12. In your new home. You and Sans were alive.
Your heart melted down to your stomach, filled with dread at the thought of him. Now looking back, it all seemed too easy, didn’t it? Running into Sans with the burn cream. Him saving your life from Adonis, just in the nick of time. Were these all things that happened naturally, or by someone else’s design? Was everything planned for you before you even stepped foot in the arena?
No, not everything. Those damn flowers. You both surviving was not the original design. So then, what was?
You thought back to before, when you were always certain that only one of you could win. Before the rule change. It all seemed so far away now, but you could distinctly remember one thing: The churning, twisting fear in your stomach when you would watch your mentors crowd around Sans, singing his praises after another stellar performance. The waves of defeat that would wash over you when you realized who the winner clearly was.
It was always Sans. At least in someone’s plan, he was always going to be the one to win.
‘But that wasn’t what happened,’ a small, insistent voice mentally assured you, ‘because he couldn’t kill you. That’s something, right?’
The bar is pretty low for you these days.
A soft, melodic knock came from your mahogany door. You sat up and stretched out your back a bit, before calling in a raspy voice, “Come in.”
Your mother pushed open the door, a shy smile on her face. In her free hand was a steaming teacup, already filling the room with a bright, floral smell. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes.
“Good morning, dear,” she greeted, easing a bit of the tension you felt. She approached you slowly, as if you might take off in flight at any moment. If she knew how heavy your limbs felt, she’d know not to bother. “Did you sleep alright?”
You nodded, taking the warm cup from her hands. Like a mini hearth, you chose to simply hold it close to you, unsure if you could swallow anything right now. You watched as she sat on the foot of the bed, letting her crutch rest at her side. A wistful smile crossed her face.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to say good morning to. I missed you terribly, dear.” Her eyes became glossy, and you immediately wrapped her in a hug, teacup still precariously in your hand. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
The mention of the arena pulled you away. “You don’t have to. They played the whole thing on television.” She tutted at that, rubbing a soothing circle into your back. Maybe you could tone down the sarcasm, for her sake.
Finally, you glanced down at the tea. Cinnamon and honey. Your favorite. “Thanks, by the way,” you murmured, and took a long, languid sip, comfort raining down on you in waves. Around the room, there was hardly anything you recognized, besides the small portrait photo of your father on the large dresser. It’s not like you had a lot of belongings anyways.
“Who helped you move?”
Your mother gave you another one of her odd looks that you could never read. “Nolan did, of course. He’s been very helpful since you’ve been gone.”
There was that old twist of guilt again. You rolled your neck, considering ways you could pay him back, but couldn’t begin to put a price on something like that. But you had bigger things to worry about. “Can I ask you something?”
She only looked at you expectantly to continue.
You scooted a bit to give her more space on the bed. The mattress squeaked, unlike the cot you used to sleep on before. ”Well, you saw the— the Games, right? Obviously,” you started, tripping over your words.
“Every night,” she affirmed. “I’d have to drag myself away from the screen sometimes.”
You tried to hide your horror at the thought. “Sans and I, did we seem…? I mean, when you were watching, did you think…?” Words were beginning to elude you. What were you even trying to ask? You sunk down, taking another sip of your tea, suddenly wishing to disappear into the mattress.
Confusion crossed her face. Like it was the last thing she expected you to ask. “Did something happen, dear?” When you said nothing, she squinted her eyes a bit. “You’re worried it didn’t seem… genuine?”
This was a bad idea.
“Nevermind,” you muttered. You set your tea down on the nightstand, and threw your legs over the side of the bed. “Just forget I asked. I don’t know what I—”
She placed a firm hand on your shoulder, silencing you quickly. Your mother always was more rational than you. “Do you want the truth?” she asked.
You took a shallow breath. “Please. I need someone else’s perspective.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together in thought. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to think at first. Nolan…” You sat up straighter, not expecting her to mention him now, “he suggested to me that it was fake, but then when you kissed I—” She shook her head incredulously. “I’ve never seen you like that before in my life. It seemed like you… made each other very happy.”
You dragged your hands across your face, heat crawling up your neck. The weight pressing on your chest only grew. Seeming real just wasn’t the same as being real. When you peaked out between your fingers, your mother gave you a sad smile.
“Dear, if something happened between you and… and Sans,” she spoke slowly, and you considered that she’s never said his name before, “then you have to talk to him. His is the only answer to your question that matters.”
You nodded, looking down at your hands. Last night, when you shrugged him off… you should’ve asked him there and then for the complete truth. But you ran away. From the one person who really understood what you went through.
You had to talk to him. No matter how much you might be disappointed by the truth, you needed to hear it from Sans.
“Thanks,” you finally replied. “That’s actually good advice.”
Your mother gave you a deadpan look. “You seem surprised, dear.”
A sing-song, bright ringing filled the home, making you flinch. You didn’t recognize the noise. Your mother only turned her head and said, “Someone must be at the door. I’ll get it—”
But you were already standing, shivering as you planted your feet on the cold ground. It must be Sans, coming to sort things out with you. Now was as good a time as any. “I got it. I shouldn’t stay here all day anyways.”
You ushered your mother out of the room, and slipped into a pair of linen pants you didn’t recognize. Apparently, they’ve even included new clothing for you. It was oddly similar to being treated like royalty.
You made your way out slowly, slinking down the hall, still unfamiliar here. The house reminded you a lot of the training center back at the Capitol, with high ceilings and large, round window panes, it was nothing like any home you’ve ever had. It kept you on edge, only proving that shaking the Capitol off your back would be harder than you thought. You were literally living in their building.
The staircase was long and winding, and creaked with each careful step you took. The air was stale, still didn’t smell like it was lived in. Dust sprang up as your hand ran across the banister, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t the same clouds of dust you saw in the arena.
What would you say to him? No, scratch that, you didn’t have much to say at all. You’d let Sans explain himself. Hadn’t you promised to tell each other everything you couldn’t once you were back home? The logical part of you knew you had to let him explain.
You swung the door open, only to deflate immediately. No one was there.
You turned your head back and forth, before finally glancing down at the ground. A small package at the doorstep.
You shuddered. Somehow, you were reminded of the Games— ripping apart parcels to gain the gifts from sponsors inside. It took everything in you not to kick it away. Instead, you crouched down, shaky hand untying the loose knot.
Inside of the parcel— no, it’s just a bag, that’s all— were bright, round strawberries. Still wet with morning dew, they shone, catching the light of the sun against their red skin.
From Nolan, probably. Thinking about him didn’t make you feel much better. Shouldn’t you want to talk to him? You had your first kiss, after all. That sounds like something you talk about with a best friend.
But the thought only made your palms sweat, the early morning heat already beginning to settle. Your mother’s words from earlier still rang true— the only person you should talk to about this was Sans.
You picked the bundle up, and directionless, you began to walk. Okay, so you had to talk to him, but it didn’t have to be now, right? You could see home first, at least.
The stone path you took slowly led into town square, which was still being cleaned up after last night’s festivities. It was shocking, really, seeing the area so alive with movement— Royal Guards bustled heaps of trash towards the poorer areas of the District, like most of the town’s waste. Merchants, mostly Monsters, dotted the streets outside of their shops. When you looked closer, you could see a few setting up signs advertising discounts. Noticing eyes on you, you tried your best to steer clear, popping a strawberry in your mouth instead. Tart.
Fifteen years ago. That was the last time the town was so vibrant. When Undyne won, everyone in 12 received a month’s worth of grain, courtesy of the Capitol. It’s one of the benefits of having a victor come from your town— everyone gets to eat.
Murmurs followed you; shouts of congratulations, or cheers with every shop you passed. It was almost easy to ignore, drowned out by the buzzing of your mind, but it didn’t make you any less uneasy.
“Extra ten percent off for victors! Bring your boyfriend, too!” A particularly loud voice called out, making your skin jump. You didn’t bother to correct them, or say anything, just kept walking, no longer wishing to be in anyone’s sight.
As the people thinned out, so did the road, stone giving its way to dirt. The human and Monster neighborhoods were both on the outskirts of town, surrounded by the Meadow, and finally the wire fence that separated 12 from wilderness. The line between the two were muddy, and some Monsters had human neighbors, and vice versa. But like almost everywhere, there were still pockets of prejudice, particularly among humans.
Rows of small, dilapidated houses slowly came into view, a much more familiar sight to you. And as the scent of ozone filled your lungs, you realized how much you’ve missed it. Large, blue clouds billowed from the factory, and oddly, the only thing the smog reminded you of was home.
Wide, hungry eyes trained on you as you dragged your feet alon. You glanced at the pile of mostly untouched strawberries in your hand, stomach twisting. You held your hand out to them.
“You want some?” you asked, giving the young monster who was staring a shy smile. “I don’t think I’ll finish them.”
Their eyes somehow widened further, and for a moment, you were reminded of Angela. “Yo, really?” The Monster’s voice was raspy, and as they stood, you realized they had no arms, only legs. Their skin was a dull yellow, and their buckteeth stuck out when they smiled. “You mean it?”
You pressed your lips together, wondering how you were actually going to hand these over, if the Monster had no hands. “Of course. Here, lemme…” You held out the bag, trying to find the best place to put it, but the Monster simply took it in their mouth.
“Wow, thanks, seriously!” they exclaimed, words muffled by the object between their teeth. “Yo, wait. Do I know you?”
You blinked. It’s been weeks since someone hasn’t recognized you. “No, I don’t think so.” How freeing.
“Well, thanks anyway! I gotta show my parents!” With that, they scurried off, practically tripping over their own two feet. You called out for them to be careful, but you weren’t sure they heard you.
When you looked up again, you paused. You had landed yourself right outside your old home. It looked the mostly same, but was clearly empty, no life inside. You approached it slowly, like it might disappear in front of you, and wrapped your hand around the rusty doorknob.
Stale air. The floor creaked under your weight, and for once, you didn’t worry about tracking mud inside. Everything was gone, even furniture you didn’t think was brought to the Victor’s Village— it must’ve been given away, for those who actually needed it. Now, you could buy all the furniture you’ve ever wanted.
You’ve never really thought of buying furniture before.
You roamed the house in a bit of a daze, an odd, empty feeling settling in your chest. When you dreamt of home, back in the arena, this wasn’t what you imagined. Well, you imagined yourself in the Victor’s Village, sure, but you had forgotten to picture this part too. You ran a hand up a door frame, feeling the grooves made to mark your height throughout the years.
Tired of kicking up dirt in here, you turned to leave, but something caught your eye. A splash of yellow, waiting for you in the corner of your small kitchen. You squinted, walking towards it, until you froze, stomach plummeting.
Buttercups. As pretty as they were in the arena.
“Fu—” You stumbled back, startled. Suddenly, the air felt noxious, filled with the flowers’ sickly sweet scent. You took in a sharp breath, but that only filled your mouth with it, and instinctively, you scraped your tongue. As if there were still petals in your mouth.
You took one more, cautious step. There was a note attached to the stems; two words, scrawled in perfect-looking letters:
‘Convince me.’
Can’t be here anymore. Before you knew it, you were outside, palms planted on your knees, gulping for air. It was no question— they were left for you to find, likely from the Prince himself.
A reminder, to convince him, and any rebels in New Home, that your relationship was real.
But how could you? When you didn’t even know if it was true yourself? A hot surge of anger bubbled in your chest. Asriel never should’ve given you the note in the first place. This would be so much easier if you didn’t know.
Is that what he wanted? To make things more difficult, instead of easier? What kind of game was this?
And just how many people are playing one with you?
“DEAREST HUMAN!” Thankfully, your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a boisterous, almost familiar voice. “I WAS HOPING TO SEE YOU AGAIN SOON!”
There was Papyrus, a few feet from your house, with a large box held against his chest. His grin was wide and giddy, and infectious, too. Despite your still shaky breaths, you managed to give him a smile.
“M-morning, Papyrus,” you called back, though you had no idea what time it was anymore. “What’re you up to?”
He placed a proud hand on his hip, a gleam in his seemingly empty eye sockets. “WHY, I’M VERY GLAD YOU ASKED! THOUGH YOU MAY NOT BE AWARE,” he began, and you actually had to stifle a laugh— the way he spoke was just endearing— “I AM QUITE THE SKILLED ORGANIZER, AND HAVE TAKEN UP THE TASK OF MOVING SANS AND I OUT OF OUR HOUSE! AFTER WHAT HE’S BEEN THROUGH, I DIDN’T WANT TO WORRY SANS WITH SOMETHING SO MUNDANE.”
It was sweet, but you couldn’t imagine Sans being helpful with moving, traumatic experience or not.
“Well, can I help?” The question fell from your mouth quickly. “I don’t really have much better to do,” you added, which was a bit of a lie, but you needed a distraction.
Papyrus’ permanent grin widened, but then his sockets fell to his empty box.
“I APPRECIATE YOUR THOUGHTFUL GESTURE GREATLY,” he replied, “BUT THIS IS MY LAST TRIP! THERE WON’T BE MUCH FOR YOU TO DO, AND I WOULDN'T WANT TO WASTE YOUR TIME.”
But you quickly shook your head. This was the calmest you’ve felt all day. “Seriously, I don’t mind. Sans talked a lot about you, y'know. I’ve been excited to meet you.”
Papyrus made an odd noise, somewhere between a squeal and a laugh. “THEN I SURELY WILL NOT DISAPPOINT! FOLLOW ME, HUMAN! I SHALL SHOW YOU THE WAY TO OUR PREVIOUSLY LOVELY ABODE!” Papyrus immediately began to walk off, a skip in his step, not bothering to wait for you. You scrambled to catch up with his footfall.
A shooting pain ran up your thigh as you followed, and you tried not to grimace in response. Your injury was already protesting the amount of walking you’ve done today, despite distance never being a problem for you before. You bit your tongue to distract yourself from it. You had to distract yourself from a lot these days.
While you walked, Papyrus hummed a bright, cheerful tune, seemingly in a good mood. “Did you guys have fun last night? Sorry I had to leave early, I meant to say goodbye, but…”
“WORRY NOT, HUMAN!” You had a feeling Papyrus didn’t talk to a lot of humans. “THE FESTIVITIES WERE GREAT FUN! BUT I MUST SAY, SANS DID SEEM TO MISS YOUR COMPANY.” He gave you an exaggerated blink, and it took you a moment to realize he meant to wink instead.
He’s even got Papyrus convinced, huh? “You think so?”
“I KNOW SO,” he affirmed. “YOU WERE ALL HE COULD MANAGE TO TALK ABOUT.”
Suddenly, he dropped his voice, a perfect imitation of Sans. “‘bro, don’t they look great tonight?’ ‘should i bring the kid something tomorrow? strawberries?’” Then he returned to his normal cadence. “IT WAS ENDEARING! AND ANNOYING.”
You almost paused in the middle of your walk, but you had enough sense to stop yourself. You thought those were from Nolan, not Sans.
A smile quickly dusted your face. It seemed you were on his mind, at least. “I didn’t even realize…” you mumbled, before adding, “Also, wow, that’s a really good impression of him.”
Papyrus’ chest swelled. “NYEH HEH, BUT OF COURSE! I KNOW SANS LIKE THE BACK OF MY METACARPALS!” You snorted at that, but you had a feeling he wasn’t making a joke.
Houses became further and further apart, all in various stages of disarray. A ways away, you could see the edge of the meadow, lush with summer grass. It’s grown since you’ve seen it last.
“WE’RE HERE!” Papyrus announced, stopping his boots at a nondescript looking house. “COME IN, AND DON’T MIND THE AMOUNT OF NOTHING THAT IS INSIDE!”
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but when you walked in, you felt a distinct sense of de já vu. The brothers’ house was much like yours, with low ceilings the tall skeleton had to dip under, and wooden floorboards with too many holes in them. Papyrus seemed unfazed, making a beeline for the kitchen, which didn’t even have a sink. You peaked your head out of a small window, spotting a well outside.
No wonder Sans was so determined to win. He wanted to save his brother from this.
Papyrus was right; there wasn’t much to pack away, spare for a few rusty pans and bent ladles. Things you were sure they wouldn’t really need, seeing as they would be receiving a monthly pension, just like you. Plenty to buy new cooking supplies. When you see the empty bags of flour, you commented, “Wow, you guys sure use a lot of that stuff.”
“ONLY TO MAKE MY WORLD-FAMOUS PASTA CREATIONS! NOODLES FROM SCRATCH ARE FAR SUPERIOR, AND LESS EXPENSIVE.” Then, a little to himself, Papyrys added, “NOTE— NOT QUITE YET WORLD FAMOUS.”
“You’ll get there, I’m sure.” You tugged on a half open bag, dragging it from the back of his pantry. “I’ve never made pasta before. I mostly just, like, roast things over fires.”
Papyrus gasped, making you glance up at him. He towered over you, grabbing you by the shoulders “YOU MUST LET ME TEACH YOU HOW! WE SHALL MAKE DINNER TOGETHER, SO I CAN FORGE A NEW FRIENDSHIP WITH SANS’ DATEMATE!”
You felt your face immediately warm. “Papyrus, I wouldn’t call us—”
“NOW THAT I MENTION IT,” Papyrus continued, ignoring your protests as he rubbed his skeletal chin. He was in his own world now. “YOU TWO HAVEN’T EVEN HAD A PROPER DATE YET! HOW SCANDALOUS!” He was a whirlwind now, gathering the now packed box into his hands and making a beeline towards the door. He swung it open without a care, bounding back outside. “WE SHOULD RECTIFY THIS—!”
“Papyrus, wait!” you called, finally making the enthusiastic Monster pause halfway to the street. You followed him towards the doorframe. “Just wait a second, okay?”
“WHAT IS THE MATTER?” Papyrus cocked his head in confusion, his worn boots shuffling against the worn dirt path. “YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SANS’ DATEMATE?”
You shook your head quickly, feeling jumbled as you stuttered over your words. “No— I mean yes, I— I just don’t—” Lifting your hands to your face, you rubbed your eyes, vision becoming spotty from the pressure.
“…Do you really think he’d want that?” you finally asked, staring hard at your feet and the ground. You wanted to sink into it, far into the earth where you could hide from this— from your fear of Sans’ rejection. Before you could begin to melt, a voice, like a bell, called out for you.
You snapped your head up, finding Nolan watching you from the street. He had a hard stare, one he usually saved for the Reaping. Dark curls hung across his eyes, and as he peered through them to glare at you and Papyrus. He had a nasty sneer on his face, one that made you want to wither. You cringed when he spat on the ground. Next to you, Papyrus shouted an enthusiastic hello. In an instant, he spun around, lugging a large, dead turkey back to town to sell.
You didn’t call out to him. You didn’t say anything at all. Just watched him walk away, anger still radiating off his back. An odd, distinct indifference washed over you.
“THAT WAS YOUR COUSIN, RIGHT? I MET HIM DURING ONE OF THE HOME INTERVIEWS!”
“Nolan?” you mumbled, “No, he’s my—” but you cut yourself off, other things more pressing in your mind than Nolan’s unprompted anger. “It doesn’t matter. I gotta talk to Sans, Papyrus. Do you know where he is?”
Papyrus seemed thrilled by this, which admittedly was common for him. “YES INDEED! TALKING IS A VITAL STEP BEFORE THE DATE-MATING PROCESS!” This skeleton was going to kill you. “I’M NOT SURE PRECISELY, BUT I CAN ONLY GUESS HE IS IN THE WOODS, LIKE USUAL.”
You thanked Papyrus, and asked if he needed any help bringing the box home, which he denied loudly, assuring you he had it covered. With a reeling mind, you started heading towards the familiar woods, while your new friend’s parting words followed you:
“I HOPE YOU FIND WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR, HUMAN!”
The buzzing of cicadas surrounded you as you dredged along, the forest’s only greeting since your return. It must’ve rained recently, because the ground beneath you was soft and gave a little with each step. In the distance, just on the horizon, were the blue-stained mountains you recognized so well.
You decided to try heading East, the opposite direction you usually took when hunting out here. After your first encounter with Sans all those years ago, you avoided this path, worried you might encroach on his territory again. Now, that’s exactly what you wanted to do.
Should you even be upset with Sans? A rational, somewhat depressing part of your brain told you, even if it was an act, it was an act to save your life. You and Sans wouldn’t be alive without it.
No, you weren’t upset with him. Maybe at yourself, for not guarding yourself better. For falling into this so blindly.
You trekked uphill, pausing only to rest your leg. Your old injury reminded you much of Undyne’s, the one she kept hidden under her eyepatch. Could some things from the arena never truly be healed? She hinted at it earlier...
Ugh. You didn’t really want to think about Undyne. Yet another person refusing to tell you the whole story. Asking her anything has proved to be useless before.
At least here, under the cover of trees, the heat was finally bearable. Still, you couldn’t shake your nerves. Maybe it was too soon to come out here, too raw after what you’ve been through.
Deep breaths, alright? It smelled familiar here, and you realized the arena had contained an odd, sterile smell mixed with the woods. You hadn’t even noticed until now, the comparison clear in your mind. Here, you were finally free of that.
You froze. Beneath your lifted foot was a snare, set and ready to catch you. You sidestepped, stumbling away from the trap and landing on your rear. One look at the tight, secure noose, and you knew exactly who it belonged to.
“I must be getting close,” you mumbled, like there was someone to hear your words. You got back on your feet, dusting pine needles off of yourself, and gave the still-set trap a wide berth as you walked past.
You squinted through the gaps between the trees. In the distance, there was a discoloration among the bark— portions looking more brown than others. You walked towards it, the silhouette of a log cabin slowly coming into view. There was a building all the way out here?
The trees thinned, and in the clearing stood the lonely structure, clearly dilapidated with time. Vines grew up its wooden walls, and its door was missing completely, though it was difficult to see inside. Half of the railings outside were gone, and the stairs to the front door looked too shoddy to use. A few paces beside the cabin, you spotted what looked like a lump rustling among the bushes.
You knew that lump anywhere.
You took a step forward, making his head snap up. He was tense for a moment, but Sans’ shoulders dropped as soon as he noticed it was you. A rope was between his hands, like he was getting ready to set another trap.
“heh,” he chuckled, shaking his head a bit. “you’d think i’d be used to people sneaking up on me in the woods, huh?”
He looked right out here, in his large hunting jacket and casual clothes. Despite being right side up now, for a moment, you saw him as the kid you met in the woods, small and uncertain.
Your mouth was dry. He rose and walked towards you, but stopped a few feet away. A healthy distance.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you finally replied, though maybe you did, just a little. “Thanks, by the way. For the strawberries.”
A sheepish look crossed his face. “i shoulda just waited for you to come out. i, uh, wasn’t ready to talk yet, and chickened out last minute.” He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and added, “not berry cool of me, i know.”
At the mention of needing to talk, you bristled, ignoring his pun entirely. “It’s… fine. I wasn’t really ready either.” You crossed your arms around yourself— when was the last time you felt so anxious around him? Then you flicked your eyes towards the cabin. “What even is this place?”
He looked tense again, gaze switching between it and you. A scowl rested on your face. Was he seriously not going to tell you? You debated leaving, turning on your heel and walking away again, but he finally sighed.
“part of what we need to talk about, actually,” he mumbled, a little to himself. “c’mon, i’ll… i’ll just show you.”
He outstretched his hand, the bright bone almost shimmering in the afternoon sun. Tentatively, you took it. It was warm.
Sans led you towards the abandoned cabin, and you could feel your pulse thrumming against your neck. What could possibly be inside? He took a large step to skip the stairs, and you mirrored his actions, finally walking through the doorway.
“What is all this…?” you murmured, eyes dancing around the single room.
The windows were all broken, letting the light filter in from outside. A large work desk was piled high with journals, and blueprints for something were taped all along the walls. The scent of mildew hit you instantly, along with a strange, but familiar artificial smell. You tried your best not to gag in response.
“i guess you could call it my lab?” he offered, but then he snorted. “that sounds silly. i’ve never said it out loud before.”
You approached the covered walls slowly, trying to get a better look at the blueprints. They appeared to be plans for a machine, but the margins in-between were filled with odd symbols you didn’t recognize.
When you tried to read them, it was like they blurred together into one unintelligible mess. You traced a few of them, as if somehow you could glean some sort of meaning.
And there were hands, hands drawn everywhere, each with gaping holes in the middle of the palms. It was jarring, honestly, and you found your eyes darting away from them constantly.
Tentatively, you asked, “You made all this?”
Sans shook his head, sucking in a breath. “nah. i found this place years ago, completely abandoned. most of the stuff written is illegible, no matter how hard i try to decipher it, but a few things are drawn out.”
He pointed towards a diagram with what looked to be a rudimentary drawing of anti-gravity potion. A couple words you could read, but most were written in the strange font, and after a few minutes, your stomach began to turn.
“it’s how i figured out i could teleport,” he explained, “without ever actually doing it before. the guy who wrote this was pretty obsessed with anti-gravity magic.”
You pictured Sans here, spending hours pouring over the books and plans laid out here, desperately trying to find out what they mean. In fact, when you looked closely again at the blueprints, you spotted what could only be Sans’ handwriting. No wonder he didn’t want to tell you about this during the Games— if the Capitol found out about this, you’re certain this building would be destroyed instantly.
When you tried to imagine who could’ve put all this stuff here in the first place, your head suddenly throbbed, so you let the idea go.
“you wanted to know how i had such good control of my magic. this is how.”
Carefully, he placed the book in your hands, the pages frayed and the leather worn. You opened it slowly, afraid the pages would be too fragile to turn, and were relieved when they didn’t crumble into dust.
But the words written down meant nothing to you— were they even actually words? You crinkled your brow, but couldn’t begin to guess what most of this said. Is this really how he became so good at controlling his magic?
You glanced back up at him, suddenly taken aback. Sans was studying your face, his eye lights trailing down the curve of your nose, to your lips, and back to your eyes. It was so intense, you were at a loss for words.
A lump caught in your throat, and tears blurred your vision. Sans startled at this, your flood of emotion seemingly coming out of nowhere.
“hey, hey, wait, what’s wrong?” Skeletal hands floated above your shoulders. “i’m, uh, i’m sorry about the book? i didn’t mean to make you cry…”
You swiped at your wet cheeks. “It’s just— when you look at me like that, I can’t—” You hiccuped and swallowed, willing yourself to calm down. When he finally touched you, rubbing a soothing circle into your back, you sighed shakily.
“i don’t understand?” he whispered. “what happened, kid?”
“Your notes, from Undyne,” you answered. “I read them, or, one of them, I mean.” You watched as Sans’ eye sockets widened, his jaw going slack, and your chest tightened. It all felt too real now.
“Just be honest with me, Sans,” you continued, crossing your arms so you could hold yourself. “There’s no cameras, no audience, nothing. Was Undyne telling you what to do? Did you kiss me because of her? Because if so, I-I get it, actually.”
“you… you get it?” His voice was quiet, hardly registering in your mind.
“I mean, it got us sponsors— it saved our lives really, so how can I be upset?” You didn’t notice, but suddenly you were on the ground, crouching, unable to stand any longer. “Why would I be upset that you were just faking it, when I should be happy to be alive?”
At some point, Sans had lowered himself with you, gently trying to pull your hands from your face. “shh. ‘s’okay, ‘s’okay,” he murmured, and finally, your hiccups quieted, your tears running dry. “i didn’t kiss you because of undyne.”
“No?” you muttered, sounding angrier than you intended. “She seemed pretty keen on the idea.”
He kept his expression soft, and you could see the worry in his eye lights, fuzzier than usual. “i mean, she sure as hell wanted me to, but that’s not really how it happened.”
So you let Sans explain, listening closely to his every word. Slowly, he set the stage for you, describing his last night before the arena.
Sans ran a distal over the small, metal pin again, mind still reeling from earlier. He didn’t understand why you’d given him this at all.
But he recognized this symbol. He’d know it anywhere. It’s part of why he accepted it, really. If this wasn’t a sign that trusting you was the right thing, then what was?
Still. You weren’t allies, there wasn’t any reason you should be looking out for him. You really should be worried about yourself. He told himself this again, because honestly, maybe he needed to hear it too.
He turned the handle to his room door. The last time he’d be sleeping here. Sans could act confident about it all he liked, but when he imagined himself in there, in that damned arena, his joints couldn’t help but stiffen with fear.
“Evening, bonehead.”
If he had skin, he would’ve jumped out of it. Sans startled, glancing to the corner of the room and flicking the light on. It was Undyne, sitting in a small plush chair in the corner.
“h—heh,” he mumbled, trying to keep his cool despite feeling on edge. What could she possibly want from him? “didn’t see you there, undyne. especially ‘cus, y’know, you’re sitting here in the pitch black.”
“It’s atmospheric, duh,” she replied, curling her lips further into a frown. She looked him up and down, before her gaze landed on his hand. She jutted her chin towards it. “How’d you get that?”
Sans felt defensive under her scrutinizing eye. Instinctively, he slipped the item into his pocket. “the kid gave it to me. wanted me to hold onto it, in case…” He didn’t want to say it. “in case something happened.”
She gave him a noncommittal hum. “You two are close.” It wasn’t a question. Sans squinted at his mentor.
“what’re you doing here? i’m not interested in another lecture about us being too friendly.” He’s heard plenty of that from his mind already. “frankly, i don’t think it matters anymore.”
Something crossed her face— a grimace, a flinch, something, but it was gone in a moment. Her expression was back to being stony. “Actually, it’s sort of the opposite.”
His shoulders dropped just a little. “what is?”
“Just…” she paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Just listen. Don’t freak out on me ‘til you hear me out, ‘kay?”
When Sans said nothing, only watched her face for any other tell, she continued with a sigh. “After seeing your interviews tonight, I think it’s safe to say I’m not the only one who noticed how close you are. And I think it might be smart to lean into that.”
He didn’t understand. “lean… lean into it?
“People want a story, alright? Something the sponsors can sink their teeth into. Something to throw money at. And what’s better than a doomed romance?” She shook her head, like the idea sounded absurd to her as well. “If you just stick together—”
“leave, undyne.”
She held up two webbed hands to placate him. “Hey, c’mon, it’s not—”
But Sans refused to let her finish. “i’m not interested. do you even hear yourself?” He kept a tight fist to his side, feeling his bones rattle with rage. i’m not— we’re not doing that. we aren’t just the capitol’s playthings. you’re out of your mind. leave.”
She rose then, mumbling something about not wasting her time. Then, she raised her voice again. “Y’know, there are bigger things out there than just you and the human. Things you can’t begin to understand.”
He was silent, uninterested in talking about this any longer. Sans couldn’t believe her. What happened to the warrior who won her Games? Has she been relegated to just doing the Capitol’s bidding? The thought made him sick, but he felt downright nauseous at the idea of Undyne presenting this idea to you.
“wait. wait.” Undyne paused in the doorframe, giving him a final glance. “are you… gonna ask…?” Sans could hardly find the words, but Undyne cut him off before he could keep floundering.
“I might.” She shrugged, as if they were discussing the most casual thing in the world. “But I might not have to. You should think about what I said, but I’m sure you won’t.” With a permanent scowl, she finally walked out of his room, slamming the door behind her in a huff. Leaving Sans alone to mull over her words.
His mind was made up then— he’d have to avoid you, to make sure this didn’t happen. He knew you wanted to be friends, but he didn’t want your friendship to be misconstrued by the rest of the country. Sans wouldn’t subject you to being a spectacle for the Capitol.
Besides. Why would you want anyone to think you’d like him like that?
When Sans finished his story, you finally noticed the way he held your hands in his— delicately, like they were something precious. Rendered speechless, you let his words wash over you, heart slamming against your ribcage.
“pretending to like you… i couldn’t do something like that. i only kept them from you ‘cus, well, a part of me thought you were already in on it.” Sans shook his head, a dry laugh jostling his shoulders. “i mean, you were sorta too obvious sometimes, right?”
You couldn’t help but pout a little. “I didn’t think so. I thought I was doing a good job keeping it to myself,” you lied.
“you wish,” he replied, a teasing smile spreading on his face. “you wear your soul on your sleeve. i really like that about you, actually.”
You pressed your lips together, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Even though Sans was offered the plan, he didn’t go for it. And you’re certain if Undyne had given you the same choice, you would’ve done the same as him. Falling for each other was just a lucky coincidence.
You could feel something in your chest stir, like it did in the cave, and you held on tight to that feeling.
“So… none of it was because of Undyne?” The question felt silly to ask now, but you needed to hear it anyway.
“have you ever even seen me listen to her before?” He quirked a brow bone at you. “i wasn’t gonna start over this.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and Sans grinned back at you, clearly pleased to hear the sound.
“i ignored her notes, but…” he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. “that day i woke up to the cannon, and you were gone… that’s when it actually hit me. maybe i shoulda waited to tell you how i felt ‘til after, but, uh, i couldn’t really help myself. i had to know it wasn’t just me.” Sans dipped his head down bashfully, a soft blue glow rising on his cheeks.
After weeks of being filled with anxieties, fears, and doubts— about him, about survival— your mind was finally quieted. His words, untouched by an audience’s prying eyes, were exactly what you needed to hear. His thoughts were finally unfiltered. And there was no reason for you to hold back either.
“i wasn’t thinking about sponsors, or undyne, or anything else,” he concluded, voice barely above a whisper. “i was just thinking about you.”
You leaned in then, cupping his skull carefully as you pressed your lips to his teeth. Smooth and warm, with not a lot of give… but somehow still electric. Your mouth moved against him, and you could feel the bone beneath you move with you. When you pulled away to breathe, his eye lights were wide, like full moons against an inky black sky.
“Sorry,” you whispered, then echoed his words from earlier: “I couldn’t really help myself.”
A small, almost unbelieving giggle fell from his mouth, and you quickly followed, laughing together in a bundle of each other. He ran a bony thumb across your hand, and you shivered, suddenly very aware of his every touch.
When your laughter died, his face fell a little. “how’d you see it?” he asked, “the note?”
His question brought you back down to Earth. “Prince Asriel. He gave it to me last night, while we were dancing. He… he said a lot, actually.” This had his attention. Sans somehow scooted closer to you, until your knees knocked together.
So you explained; the memory was so burnt into your mind, that you relayed everything to Sans just as it had been told to you, including the Prince’s fears of rebellion. Your hands shook a little as you spoke, remembering his cool and unfeeling stare as Asriel leered above you.
But Sans didn’t seem very worried. He shrugged, an easy smile replacing his anxious one. “well then what’s the big deal? we do like each other. seems like we have things under control.”
“I’m not so sure though,” you replied, shaking your head. A dull fear, one you recognized from the arena, began crawling up your back. You didn’t feel in control at all. “Something tells me it’s just not that easy.”
You sounded paranoid, but Sans seemed to understand. Carefully, he rested his forehead against yours, something you’ve quickly found to be rather soothing.
In a low voice, he said, “it feels like the whole world wants something from us, doesn’t it?”
“It’s exhausting,” you chuckled tiredly. “The Capitol, Asriel, Undyne— everyone.” You were fed up with being under everyone’s thumb.
Sans’ fingers drew lazy circles into your hands, and you got lost in the pattern, almost distracted completely from what you’ve been talking about. How many times have you thought about this? You finally had him to yourself, away from the rest of the world. You’re not sure you ever want to let go now.
He seemed lost in thought for a moment, eye lights scanning your face before he spoke again: “maybe we should start over.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, pulled from your train of thought.
“meet each other again for the first time,” he explained. “forget everyone, forget what the hell just happened. we’ll start again, away from the arena.”
But you shook your head, the idea not sounding right to you. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to forget,” you said, almost surprising yourself. “I mean, some of my memories feel so jumbled already, but I can’t forget us. I can’t just… reset.”
Sans stood suddenly, almost making you jump. “hold that thought, kid.”
He walked over to a particular pile of journals, rustling through until he found the one he wanted. He handed it over to you, watching as you turned over the front cover.
“That symbol…” It’s the one from your pin. A winged circle above three triangles, scratched into the page with blotchy ink. You ran your hand over it, half expecting it to disappear, but it stayed right in place.
“‘course, i have no clue what it means,” he said, rubbing the back of his vertebrae. “but it’s on a lot of stuff in here. it’s… it’s sort of why i decided to trust you.”
Beneath the symbol were other odd letters, similar to the ones in the other journals. However, this one was in better shape than the others, like it could actually withstand being read. You thumbed through the other pages, only to be met with a sea of white.
“It’s all blank,” you murmured, not understanding what he was getting at.
“you said you didn’t wanna forget, right?” he asked, pointing to the empty lines on the pages. “so let’s write it all down— everything we experienced, good and bad. that way we can keep it all straight.”
That’s… actually not a bad idea.
When you’ve spent days questioning everything, the thought of having it all laid out here was actually comforting. It felt secure. Sans handed you a pen, but you stared at the tool for a moment.
“I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, chewing on your lip. With the Reaping? Probably— or maybe you should begin with when you first met?
“‘s’okay.” Sans’ smile was soft, his voice smooth like honey. “i’ll help.”
Sans sat behind you, snaking his arms around your torso and pulling you close. You let your back lean against him, feeling the familiar prodding of ribs against you. His breath tickled your neck, and your skin heated when you imagined him pressing his teeth against it.
Teasing a bit, you asked, “And you’ll actually contribute? You won’t get too lazy or something?”
“heh. when have i ever done that before, kid?”
So you began, working together to write down every detail you could think of. The nights you spent without him, the people you’ve already lost, and everything in between. And Sans filled in some of his own blanks for you, explaining his days alone, the tributes he had to kill, the things that keep him up at night. No matter how painful, no detail was too small to include. You wanted to make sure you got everything right.
And in the depths of the woods, wrapped in Sans’ arms, you finally felt safe. Like a prayer, you promised yourself to never let go of this. To never let go of him.