All was silent in the skeleton brothers' house. Sitting on the leaf green couch, Papyrus found himself staring at the reddish brown walls, alone.

Undyne was not coming back very soon; it seemed that she was too preoccupied with work. Frisk decided to leave for a bit, saying that they needed to sort out their thoughts. Sans... well, he was still sleeping in his room.

As much as Papyrus disliked idling, he was under strict orders not to wander around and was temporarily relieved of his duty as a sentry. Hence, he settled on pacing until he got tired of it, and took a seat on the couch, hoping to catch another one of Mettaton's shows.

The television buzzed to life. There were only two channels available in the Underground; one was dedicated to news, but it usually just played piano music or the little assortment of cartoons for children, and the second was Mettaton's live shows.

Flashing with purple and yellow colours, a message was plastered on the screen.

"Today's late afternoon program is postphoned until further notice. Thank you for your understanding."

Papyrus leaned back on the couch. It seemed that he had to settle for disappointment. Come to think of it, since Mettaton's debut, a live show was never postphoned, so why now?

He figured that he was just unlucky. Sitting up, the tall skeleton found himself back to idling. Inevitably, he started pondering on the day's events.

Everyone is getting hurt... He wrapped his gloved hands around each other, remembering the looks of pain and grief that had been seared into his mind.

Papyrus wondered if he could do it. Everything suddenly felt dark and grim, as if a blanket of chaos was descending upon the Underground.  He could not rid himself of the uncertainty in his soul, but it did not mean that he should give up.

He just had to try even harder to help everyone, Flowey included.

His thoughts went over to his older brother. When he hugged Sans back then, in that moment, he could feel everything he did. It was said that the souls of siblings were almost interlinked, and that was the bond the skeleton brothers shared.

Papyrus' only wish, though, was that Sans would be more open with him about what he felt. Perhaps he hid it to keep him from worrying, but bottling up emotions was not a good thing.

He felt a tug at his soul, and he immediately recognised it as a sign that Sans was having nightmares. He had them frequently many years ago, until it eventually dwindled and disappeared. The recent events must have triggered them again.

Papyrus went upstairs and into his brother's room, careful not to disturb the tornado of self sustaining garbage or kick yet another one of Sans' socks. Unsurprisingly, it was a mess.

Bending down, he picked up the fallen pinkish white pillow and glanced at his sleeping brother. Ever so often, Sans let out a muffled moan, kicking the crumbled green sheets closer to the edge of the mattress. He wanted to chide his laziness for the hundredth time and be attacked back by a fury of puns.

However, Papyrus simply sat down at the corner of the bed. There were still so many unanswered questions, and the perpetual feeling that everyone was hiding something from him, but for now...

He was contented to let Sans rest and hear the steadying beat of his soul, united with his.

~~~~

The cascading waterfall, the twinkle of glowing stones and the mesmerising light blue waters of Waterfall was where Frisk ended up in their little walk. It was a better place than Snowdin to be alone with their thoughts due to the relative emptiness of it.

There was a plan forming in their head. It was small and developing, leaving them undecided. Time was not doing the child any favours as well.

They read everything in Gaster's entries, the pieces of paper they retrieved from the secret section of the Lab. In spite of that, something still perplexed them.

It was very clear that Flowey was infected by the Scourge as well, but if its effects were to remove emotions, it did not make sense. The flower had no emotions in the first place, so there was nothing to take. Yet, the way he talked, how he acted from what they found out from Papyrus, suggested that he now had emotions. There was a certain depth that was very different to the empty mockery they were used to.

"Woah, hey there, kid!"

Frisk did not realise that they had walked that far as they turned and saw the old shopkeeper, Gerson, in his stall. The tortoise-like monster's wrinkled features were not enough to to hide a smile on his face, with his single opened eye gazing warmly at them.

"You look better than yesterday when we met," he chuckled. "I assume things are looking up?"

They frowned and shook their head. They did feel slightly better than the previous day though; their constant headache since the morning had subsided.

"Ah I see," Gerson mused. "I heard there had been a lot of things going on lately, but I haven't went and checked it out myself."

He paused. "Also, there's something I have been meaning to ask you. You are a human, right?"

I thought you knew.

Instead of voicing it out, Frisk nodded, eyeing the old monster cautiously.

"Then allow an old monster like myself to give you a piece of advice. Don't do anything you will regret. I've seen that little expression of yours in the past, one that I'll never forget. They were just like you, trying to find something to put their will into. If you know you will regret it, then don't do it."

As Gerson paused again to take a breath, Frisk knew exactly who he was talking about, but they kept up their look of indifference, waiting for him to finish.

"Ah, excuse my rambling," he apologised. "Perhaps I should not say this, but I'm rooting for you. I think everyone would feel the same."

"Thank you." They were already heading off, and turning around briefly, they added, "I'll keep it in mind."

Leaving behind Gerson and his stall of trinkets, they changed direction, intending to return to Snowdin.

The tortoise-like monster's words were clung to their mind as they found themselves in a brighter room. Normally, a pale yellow monster would be there, admiring the tiny sparks of light above - the fake stars.

They always liked stars.

With that came a memory that Frisk almost wanted to forget. The memory of the promise that was impossible to fulfill from the start, and would never be fulfilled.

They made all the wrong choices, and when the time of regret came, it was all too late anyway. Their developing plan came to mind as they shifted uneasily at the thought, attempting to hold on to the hope they had left.

Just stay determined.

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Firstly, thanks for 1k reads, and sorry for putting up a filter chapter to celebrate it. It was not planned, but I thought hard about it and decided that it was necessary.

Plus, I got to add in some foreshadowing I wanted to but didn't get a chance to. :)

Secondly, things are pretty much going to go down, and many things that already happened (and going to happen) are leading up to a certain point where I'm planning to end the first arc. If you have any theories, I would love to hear them.

As always, votes and comments are appreciated.