[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.]
no subject
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.]