i should ?? get a beta,,, tbh. 

i never read over this so tell me if its confusing!!

BTW !!! if you are confused pls specify what about,, as im always on my computer and not mobile and therefore cannot see where u comment. 

anywayy,,,, enjoy,,, !! <33

- - - - - - - -

Sans comes back down the stairs dressed in his usual - jacket, sweatpants, etc. Papyrus, despite him having no skin or nerves, is bundled up from head to toe, with scarves and coats piled atop him. It's for the aesthetic, Sans guesses, as he climbs into shotgun and feels the smallest bit of relief as Papyrus is not making the drive towards the hospital , but rather the cozy shopping area nearby. 

Sans feels his mood drop again - he was doing so well before, wasn't he? He was getting out of the house. He was doing all the weird PTA stuff for Frisk with Tori, he was being more honest with his family, he could feel that weight slowly lifting off his shoulders... And, in his bliss, he manages to nearly kill Frisk and scar some random child for life. Lovely. He almost wishes for the resets to return - he didn't have to watch himself, as nothing really mattered - but quickly thinks against it. He's torn out of his thoughts by Papyrus' hand tapping his shoulder, startling Sans a bit. Sans could argue Papyrus should stop doing that, but at the same time he needs to stop daydreaming. He unbuckles and walks into the store side by side with his brother.

The goal is simple.

1) Get the food on the list.
2) Bring it home.
3) Don't kill, and don't be killed by any randomly angered humans. 

Sans can handle this. He was doing this just a couple weeks ago, despite the fact that the blissful routine of earlier winter feels like years in the past. Sans notices a thin, hard line of red ink only to notice some of Frisk's requests have been crossed out. They won't be eating them this week.
Or maybe the next.
Or maybe never, at all. 

Sans folds the paper to cover the words, and continues on. He makes small chat, but both Sans and Papyrus know Sans isn't feeling entirely up to it, and so besides the occasional chatter Papyrus generally stays silent. He's being too quiet lately, really. Lying to his family doesn't make anyone happy, yet it's just depressing if he opens up. He can't win, can he? 

A tug on Sans' jacket stops him in his tracks, and he turns to find a small child peering up at him curiously. With the messy bangs covering their eyes and their generally gentle aura, Sans heart almost skips a beat. It's not Frisk, though. Still, because the stranger seems like a nice kid, Sans smiles. He's relieved when the child's hand drifts away from the coat, and turns towards them.

"Yeah?"

"I like your outfit." 

Sans blinks.

"Sorry, but this is 100% genuine skeleton." He expects the child to reel away in fear, but the child's eyes only glimmer from beneath their tangled hair. 

"Really?" The way their voice is low and composed, yet their hands are clenched in excitement makes Sans heart hurt. They're too much like Frisk. Suddenly, a pale hand snaps the child's wrist and yanks them backwards. The child gasps in surprise, and it seems all the color is drained out of their face. What Sans can only assume is the child's mother scolds them, making a show of pointing and glaring at Sans. As if he looks like something ready to strike. He has slippers on, what was he even going to do? Trip the kid?

Well, he knew he could very well do more. Still, fighting like that is  literally a one-time-exception and he wouldn't just attack some child for complimenting him. Sans shuffled up to the mother and her child, noticing how the mother reeled back in disgust.

"I didn't get to thank you. It's nice that you're being so kind, since we're kind of the same species."

The child blinks, now, head tilted. It hits them, suddenly. 
"Oh! Because..?" Their fingers trace up and down their knuckles, down to elbows. They smile. Sans smiles back, wider at the mothers bewildered look.

"Your mother might disagree, but we're pretty much the same thing. You humans are just... more covered in skin. So treat all monsters nice, not just the cool looking ones. We all look pretty great, though."

The child giggled, and suddenly halted as her mother stalked away, her child's small palm embedded in hers. Her eyes, though, narrowed in what Sans thought to be... a hint of consideration. 

Good. Sans didn't know why the children seemed much more okay with monsterkind than the adults did, though. They seemed... generally friendlier the younger they were. 
It could be said for monsters as well, though, and so Sans dropped the thought, instead shuffling back towards where he was before, searching for wherever his brother had went.

-- x

"There you are!" Papyrus called out as Sans approached. "You disappeared. Did I ever mention that it makes me kind of upset when you do that? I did, right?"

"Definitely. Hey, though, did you miss me?"

"Hardly, you can't reach any of these shelves anyway." 

"I'm sure my growth spurt will arrive around my mid 30's. That's what they call a "mid-life-crisis," right?" Papyrus was right - Sans couldn't reach up high, so he took to leaning against the packed cart. 

"I... don't ...know? I don't know how you expect me to answer all these weird things you ask me. Why are you like this?"

Sans shrugged, his usual smile feeling a bit more genuine. This was good, this was okay. He felt rested, at ease. It was nice. This was nice. 

The trip continued on - Sans mentioned the mother he'd talked to, the brightening future of the skeleton club, and other random topics that faded in and out of focus, shoved aside by whatever other idea would push it's way to the surface among the casual chatter. The brothers had paid with their usual cashier (some employees would overcharge or refuse to help them - which confused Papyrus and made Sans seethe slightly.) and left. Sans had shut his phone off - something he felt a twinge of guilt by, as he was essentially refusing to listen to updates about Frisk - and continued the car ride in his bliss, his hand held out the window and enjoying the sun on him. He'd never really get used to the feeling, really.

When the sun had settled behind patches of clouds, and it seemed like it'd be a cold night (probably in more ways than one - sleep? what was sleep nowadays?) but the thought was once again forced away, focusing more on lazing than other intrusive thoughts. He didn't feel particularly tired or weak-willed, really, he was in a mood to work - but he was always in a mood to joke, and as the opportunity to do so went above all responsibilities, he did. 

Finally talked into it, he walked inside alongside his brother, groceries in hand. 

And, as he always did nowadays, his eyes flicked to the door up the stairs, the doorhandle - the railing alone, untouched and dust covered. It had been for ... a 2 or 3 months, now. No one, not even the cleanfreaks of the house had ventured upstairs, much less touch anything in Frisk's room. The old, crumbling pie piece rot alone. The blankets still sit in their tossed, wrinkled mess, reminiscent of the last time Frisk was picked up by their mother. The lights hadn't been turned on. In the corner, the family photo that had previously hung proudly now gathered a layer of dust too thick to see properly through.

His hand found it's way to his phone - the guilt he'd supressed overflowed, all at once. Sighing, he checked his notifications.

His grip tightened to the point of his screen being threatened to crack. 

"Missed call" flooded his screen - around 10, in fact, not including the swarms of desperate texts.

He found himself wishing again that there were no consequences - that death was not permanent. Reality was a lie, time was bendable to the 'Player's' will, and if someone was dead, they'd be fine tomorrow morning. 

Not anymore, though. 

When his eyes read "Frisk is," he cut his thoughts off before he could finish - before he could puke, scream, or hyperventilate, take your pick - he fell to the floor.

-

AN:

u kno they ded