urbem_initium | Here be Undertale PSLs

[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

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