Sneakyfox55

Hesitantly, Frisk stood in the snow, pondering over their former opponent's kind and welcoming words. They had no doubt he and his wife would welcome them into their home with open arms—and in any other case, they might have taken him up on his invite. But, it didn't feel... Right, somehow? Not because they might be intruding (though, that did concern them a bit) but mostly because they just didn't want to take up any more time than was necessary. They wanted to continue onwards, to home, wherever that may be. EXCUSE ME, HUMAN, I DON'T MEAN TO PRY BUT—WHAT'S THE HARM IN STAYING A LITTLE LONGER, EVEN SO? The young human froze at their invisible companion's question, before silently saying back to him, Nothing. But I... I have somewhere else to be. They expected him to argue, or at least ask of them something else; instead, he made a small humming noise. WELL... ALRIGHT. I TRUST YOU!! It felt out of left-field, almost—it seemed a silly thing for him to say that, especially to

It was a beautiful night. No clouds plugged up the sky, like they usually did. Rarely did the moon appear but it had arrived earlier, and with it came its companions, the stars. Unlike the moon, they didn't light up the Earth, even in the dark. They didn't bring much when it came to a night as dark as this; and yet, there was something about them that didn't compare to the rest of the universe. Not the clouds, not the moon, not even the infamous sun itself. They were different. Peaceful. Hopeful. ...And cold. They burned out quickly when the dawn came, disappearing long before the moon (not that it ever disappeared, anyhow). They were outshone, by greater, more important sources of light. Stars had a certain fragility to them. Even if they stayed, somewhere in the deep void of space while the daylight reined, they refused to shine until the darkness returned. Even if they stayed, no one could tell anyway. They were snuffed out by the world around them. They never lasted for

Chapter 2: Let's Go Back * * * Carefully, almost delicately, Frisk made their way into the room, dodging piles of misplaced clothing and socks. The air felt stuffy, and smelled like old sweat and dirty--well, socks. There was also still dust littering the walls and floor, despite someone living here now; granted, this was Sans we were talking about, so Frisk wasn't too surprised. But it didn't make them feel better. The fact his room was in the same exact state as it'd been when he was gone seemed to upset them all the more. They'd heard he sold his house, and only had come back to live with Papyrus just a month or so ago. The month when... Well... Nobody liked to talk about it. And they didn't like asking anyone questions. Especially Sans. Say anything about you, he'd just shut down, and wouldn't talk to them for the rest of the day. By the morning he'd be relatively fine, but on more than one occasion they knew not to bring it up again so soon. Papyrus was worried. More

It was raining heavily when the child walked into the dimly-lit room. At this point they were soaked, shivering and shaking even as they stood in place. If nothing else they wanted some shelter—an umbrella, at least. Maybe. But then, they caught sight of something; something that caught them off guard, delivering their attention from themselves to aforementioned something in front of them: A statue. It was... Hard to decipher what the statue happened to be, exactly. It had crumbled beyond repair, worn by the years prior—maybe even decades. However, the child could make out the shape of three figures: a larger monster and two smaller monsters, they thought. They paused, studying the frozen monsters, broken and cracked as they were. They felt an odd sadness in their soul, as though somehow knowing they used to not be just statues—but people. They walked a bit closer to inspect, expecting their guide to say something about the stone figures, but... The voice was eerily silent, now.

Chapter 1: Until Death Do We... *** Apparently, skeletons can sweat--more than they should, anyhow, because it wasn't like Sans didn't know beforehand what he was and wasn't capable of. ...Why was he thinking about that. What was wrong with him, why couldn't he just relax? I mean, he knew why but-- Why were you not here yet?! You bailed, didn't you? Of course you did, you probably had better things to do than come here-- Oh gods what if you knew. You probably knew what he was planning to do and you bailed because you didn't want to say no right to his face, did you. I mean really why would you, you were too good for him, why even come here. He knew it was worthless, he knew he didn't deserve you, why did he even bother-- "Sorry I'm late!" ...Wait what. He straightened back up, as though he hadn't just been almost falling out of his chair, and met your gaze with a barely-convincing grin. "uh, hey." You just smiled at him in response, which made his soul race a hundred

...I had a dream about you, the other night. We were standing in the garden, side by side. The air smelled nice. Familiar. But... Your hand felt cold. So I... I let go of you. ... ... ...And the Earth ate me. * It was only a memory. A moment, frozen in time, unforgettable but unable to be brought back entirely. Time continued without it. A clock was ticking. It was the only thing they heard when they first went under. When they were eaten. Before the ticking began they’d been clawing at the surface of their prison, and before that, they’d been trying to reach for him. Of course, the clawing had failed. The dirt piled onto their form, drowning them, suffocating even as they refused to let it consume them. They scratched, and dug, and pried until their fingers tore open and leaked out red iron. But the Earth was strong. So it ate them. It ate them whole, hungrily and swiftly. They cried, and shrieked for help, but nobody came. The Earth drowned out their

The following night, you received no dreams. None that you could remember, at least—you were sure you probably had at least one dream, somewhere in there, but not one near as memorable as the one you had prior. Not nearly as vivid, or... Nice. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed, without another dream like that. But you knew you shouldn’t have had your hopes up too high. (These days, you never did.) It was... Dumb, to wish for stuff like that. It was just a dream anyhow. It wasn’t like it would come true. It wasn’t real. And you decided to stop pretending—stop tricking yourself into thinking all of this was okay. Because it wasn’t. --- Another day of you sitting in bed with nothing to accomplish passed, and you found yourself lying awake still, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Your arms were sore from the medicine they’d stuck in you, your head pounding with the previous drugs they’d used. At least your family had visited that day. Of course, they’d had to