urbem_initium | Here be Undertale PSLs

[he should be happy that they're on the surface now, but sans can't stop worrying. it's been months now - longer than that, even? he can't tell anymore, once you've done it enough, the passage of time doesn't matter anymore - and everyone else is adjusting just fine.

everyone but him.

it'd probably help if he would stop having nightmares about it, but that'd make life too easy for sans, so of course he solves that problem by putting off sleep as long as he can.

this isn't gonna last forever.

frisk made a promise, and sans knows frisk doesn't break those. but at the same time, how many times had he thought it was over, only to end up right back at snowdin when the door to the ruins finally opened?

he's just. so tired. it would be easier if he could tell anyone - but who would understand? papyrus barely understood death as is, toriel wouldn't know what to say, and the others...

but there's still frisk.

maybe it's the exhaustion that makes him consider it. maybe it's the exhaustion that makes him decide on it. either way, he makes a grab for his phone. it's late, so he just texts the kid, and if frisk decides to check their phone anytime soon, there's just two messages.]

we need to meet up tomorrow. your choice where.

i made you a promise. its time i kept it.

[no more hiding skeletons in the closet.]

[Frisk had been sleeping, but they were a light sleeper, so late night texts often woke them up. Not that Frisk minded, because it was always a joy to hear from their friends about the latest thing. Even if it was Undyne setting fire to her house yet again from cooking lessons. At 3am in the morning.

But this was unexpected. Frisk had expected to wait years before Sans would open up to them. Frisk knew Sans thought they were too young to hear what he wanted to say, and while Frisk disagreed, they were also patient and didn't want to push the stout skeleton.

This late night text did nothing but bring worry to Frisk. Sans knew many things, including the times Frisk went to sleep, and probably the fact that Frisk was a light sleeper. Which was a little creepy if you thought about it, but Frisk always felt comforted by that fact. That Sans would text Frisk the exact time he shouldn't be meant Sans was finally at his wit's end. And that was concerning.

Quickly, Frisk fired back a message.]

grillby's? you ok? meet now?

Edited 2015-10-22 05:44 (UTC)

not now

i'll see you in the morning

[when morning comes, sans is at grillby's bright and early - but if sans held off for sleep related reasons, it must have been for frisk's benefit. sans himself looks like garbage, the dark lines under his eyesockets even worse than usual.

he looks like he hasn't slept in days.

he's also not surprised to see frisk already there. the kid got scarily determined when something was important to them, sans had seen that firsthand.]

* mornin'.

[he offers a shambling wave, nearly tripping into the booth on his way in to take a seat. god, he's so tired.]

* sorry for buggin ya last night. wanted to save it for the marrow-ning.

[Unfortunately for Sans, Frisk is all frowns. Frisk could see how tired Sans was. How he almost tripped walking to the booth. How it looked like he would fall asleep at any moment. Frisk had had half a mind to run out minutes after receiving the texts last night, regardless of what Sans had wanted, but they didn't. Frisk wished they had though.

They don't respond to the wave, and, still frowning, followed Sans to the booth, taking a seat once Sans did, and looking pointedly at the hoodie wearing skeleton. Sans better start talking quick, because the quicker he talks, the quicker he can get to bed.]

* i know.

[he can feel frisk's disappointed gaze on him.]

* just.
* sorry.

[he looks away guiltily, skeletal fingers drumming lightly at the tabletop. papyrus worrying about him had been bad enough.]

* you wanted answers, right?
* here's a primer.

[sans hasn't budged from his seat - and yet, there, on the tabletop, is a worn out notebook, frayed at the edges and something that's seen much better days.]

* just.
* this aint somethin you can take back, kid.
* and its the kinda thing that stays with you.
* its okay if you change your mind.

[for once, he doesn't know what he wants frisk to decide. but it's there.

and it's up to them.]

[Frisk shakes their head adamantly at the the choice. This topic has been bothering Sans so much he decided he had to tell Frisk. Frisk didn't want to see Sans suffering anymore, even if listening to what Sans had to say would hurt them. Whatever Frisk felt, Sans had to be feeling it ten times worse.

Frisk shifts, reaching out to pull the notebook towards themselves. Without a moment's hesitation, they flip it open to the first page and begin reading it. It seems normal, at first, but Frisk quickly realizes that these are notes of all the timelines Sans has been through. But it seems mild enough, with Sans just remarking on the little changes between the timelines, fun stuff.

Once Frisk hits the tenth page, things turn ugly, and Frisk has to pause a moment as they stare at Sans's words.

Dirty brother killer.

Frisk looks up at Sans, worry, apprehension and concern all mixed into their expression.]

[dates follow every note. sans's writing is atrocious, but it's legible enough for frisk to read - though it's probably still hard to parse, considering sans's notes seem to take up every bit of paper he can fit at first.

but the pages become less sparse. numbering starts to replace observations. sans knows the notebook inside and out - so he doesn't look at frisk, and just.

waits.

for the page turning to stop.

sure enough, it does. its written with a forceful hand, as if sans was trying to carve it into every last page.]

* i told you, didnt i?
* there are some yous that...aren't very good.

[his shoulders sag. he just looks so tired.]

* the first time, it was an accident. you got scared, you fought back.
* ...i dont know what loop that was.

[...oh.]

[Frisk looks back down to the notebook, feeling guilty. They hadn't been the one to kill anyone, but some iteration of them did. And to Frisk, that was just as bad.

It takes almost a minute before Frisk flips the page again, and this time the notes are scrawled with more deaths. Undyne. Mettaton. Toriel. Asgore. All of them once, twice-- no, many times, died by their hands. And Sans knew this all.

Their shoulders quivered, and they bittheir bottom lip. Frisk wanted to stop reading the book. It was painful knowing what happened in previous timelines, knowing they were the cause of Sans's grief. But Frisk continued flipping the pages and reading, rubbing their eyes when they felt drops of water gathering to blur their vision. They owed Sans this. They had to read through the book. They were determined too.]

[the notes start changing. observations about starting over again. confusion. why was it starting over now? then:

someone came out of the ruins.
theyre covered in dust.
think theyre pretending to be human

the notes get more meticulous. a snowman, turned to nothing but lifeless snow. all the teens in the forest, killed. doggo, the married dogs, the greater and lesser dogs...

everyone left snowdin
papyrus still wants to be their friend
i have to talk him out of it

and then, on its own page, in a shaking hand:

i didnt even get to say goodbye

sans reaches out, puts his hand over frisk's.]

* you can stop.

[the notes from then on out aren't any better. sans knows for a fact he got more obsessive and unhinged. and the death tallies...

his fingers curl around the edge of the journal, and he gives it a tiny tug. c'mon, kid, sometimes you gotta know when to quit.]

[Of course, Frisk doesn't let go. They hold onto the book obstinately, but refuse to look at Sans in the eye. They had to do this. They had to know what they did. They had to know how much Sans suffered.]

[sans could take it, if he really wanted to.

but he doesn't.

a list of names follows. every monster in waterfall and hotland. the core. undyne, melting into nothingness. mettaton making a last stand.

theres no one left
why isnt it resetting
i just want to see papyrus again

it gets illegible. personal. sans wishing to go back home, sans wishing he'd never kept toriel's promise.

where did it go wrong
i thought everything was right
why

the pages taper out. and then. a new, unmarked tally starts up.]

* i was the only thing standin between you and asgore, kid.

[the numbers keep going.]

* i had to do what i had to.

[he looks away.]

* im sorry.

[Frisk brushed their hand against the tallies. Too many to count. Each mark felt like a weight on their soul. Proof that they'd been so determined... so determined to kill Sans.

The tears came too quick for Frisk to wipe away now, but they tries valiantly and shook their head. No. Sans wasn't the one who should be sorry. If anything, it should be them. It was their fault Sans was suffering like this now.

They took a deep breath, wiping their tears again. Then they got up from their seat, went around to Sans's side of the booth and hugged him as tightly as they could. They're so sorry, they know there's nothing that can make up for what's been done, but they're sorry, they're sorry for everything.]

[there's so much sans wants to apologize for too.]

* im sorry
* im so sorry
* you even apologized once, you trusted me and i still -

[frisk, lifeless in his hands, so fragile and small, the look that had come to their face when he'd done it - it had been nothing short of betrayal.

sans remembered laughing until he sobbed - ]

* you werent you, i knew that and i still -

[ - he takes a strained breath, trying to force himself back to the present. he isn't at the hall anymore. everyone is alive. they made it to the surface.

frisk - this frisk - didn't kill him. didn't leave him bleeding out on the ground until he turned into dust.

so why?

why can't he move on?]

* please, p-please dont blame yourself, i promise this isnt -
* i dont -
* its not -

[he doesn't have any words. so he just lets frisk hug him, because he never got this far, because he doesn't know the right choices anymore.

maybe he never did.]

[Frisk shook their head forcefully, still pressing their face against Sans's hoodie. Sans was right to do what he did. There was no telling what they would've done if allowed to live. Frisk didn't -- couldn't understand why they would even choose to hurt another (but vaguely, they recalled a forgotten memory, a sweet voice whispering in their ears when they were still in the ruins) but Sans made the right choice then.

Frisk was sorry it took this long for them to make the right choices too.

Given how poorly Frisk treated him in previous timelines, they couldn't be anything but the worst person to confide in. But Frisk was the only one who understood. It hurt to know they caused Sans this much pain, but they would not wallow on their guilt. They would do their best to make it up to him from now on.

Frisk patted Sans on the back. He could let out all his sorrows and unburden himself. It was alright. Frisk could handle it.]

Edited 2015-10-23 07:30 (UTC)

[he doesn't know what to say.

instead he just hugs frisk loosely, hands shaking, head bowed.]

* i - ive been at this a long time
* longer than you
* someone was doin this before you were

[his voice is shaky, strained with emotions he's trying very hard to keep in check. not now. not here.]

* i dont
* i dont know how to think things are going to be okay
* good things dont last

[Flowey. It must have been him. The flower had said as much once, and Sans remembered it all. Sorrow settled heavily over Frisk as they realized the extent of Sans's suffering. It went past just Frisk themselves.

Sans has been through too much.

Frisk rubbed his back, wishing they could take the pain away somehow. But that wasn't possible. So the most Frisk could hope for was that this would help Sans, and one day, that he would heal from all this.]

[sans just sags a little into frisk's embrace, accepting the comfort for what it is. the lines under his eyesockets seem so much deeper up close, and his clothing is similarly in disgrace.]

* kinda envy you, kiddo
* you still know how to try

[weary. bitter. tired.

suddenly the things his lost soul said make a lot more sense.]

[Frisk peered up at Sans, tears dried, and with a determined expression. They understood the feeling of hopelessness that must have arose from those multiple repetitions. But, clenching their fists a little harder, this time they're not going to repeat. Frisk promised, and they were determined to keep that promise.

So, Sans could start trying again. Maybe not today, maybe not even weeks or years. But one day, they hoped Sans would remember how to try again. Frisk was determined to make that happen.]

[and for a while, sans just - lets himself be held. it's not like it helps in the long run - nothing really does anymore - but frisk's tiny arms embracing him keeps him rooted to the present.

the "now."

eventually, one of his bony hands snakes upwards, and he quietly pats frisk's head.]

* youre a good kid, frisk.
* thanks.

[he still doesn't sound okay. he probably won't be okay for a long time. but...it's something.]

Here be Undertale PSLs

PAIN TRAIN DONT STOP, PAIN TRAIN HAS NO BREAKS

HERE COMES THE PAIN TRAIN IT GOES DOOT DOOT DOOT RIGHT IN THE FEELS

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