A/n: hello. What your about to read has some scenes that can be sensitive towards readers. These include the following: homicidal scenes, mature language, blind characters (reader), depression, suicidal scenes and maybe some violent scenes. If any of these affect you, you have been warned. Despite that, this is a fanfic based on the RPG game called Undertale, all these characters (apart from y/n) belong to the creator, Toby Fox.

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You swing my legs as far as possible, sprinting as fast as possible.

You don't have much time.

Every second counts, every minute values part of  what is forming.

You stumble several times as you swerve around buildings and small cottages. Your face is numb as the nipping coldness bites your flustered jowl.

It's silent. Everywhere. Empty.

All that is heard is your severe panting as you thrust yourself, shoulder on, a big stoney door. The rough surface tears at your (f/c) jumper and grazes the surface of your already stinging skin. You abruptly halt as you stand before a large staircase that leads downwards. In panic you gyrate around, searching for a quicker way.

Nothing.

You have to go down the long, narrow staircase. Without putting any further dwell in your time of being, you start to hop down the grey, fusty steps. The ceiling drops mildewy droplets of water which splatter on the sides of your cheeks, making it seem as if you were crying. Swallowing, you hasten  your pace down the dank staircase. The acrid smell of the crumbling walls overlap into your nostrils making you wheeze as your lungs weaken.

There's a murderous migraine punching at you, full force. You're dizzy as hell. Instead of speeding down, you find yourself floundering down the moist steps. One of your white sneakers get caught on a vine that peers out dainty from some cracks in the concrete. As your foot gets stuck behind the stalk of vegetation, your body hurtles forwards, making you bash your chin on the sharp stones, burdened at the end of the staircase.

Excruciating pain rushes through your body, overtaking the adrenaline you once felt. Gently opening your eyes, you see a faint blur of blue, mixed with a tint of white. Your vision is too much of a haze to be certain weather what you see is correct.

'(Y/n)?' The familiar, deep voice makes your eyes shoot up in a wide gaze. Startled, you notice the blurry figure crouch down.

It's him.

Your eyes soften into a doe shape as salty tears dot at the corners. Propping both your elbows on the cold, stone floor, you groan as the immense pain sweeps once more through you, too weakened by the pain, you slump back down on your laying position.

Two strong hands, peculiarly bony, trace along both your cheek bones and circle around your eyes. The two hands lower down and cup your face gently, it brings a warm sensation of relief. Relief that he isn't a figment of your imagination.

The two hands, once more, lower down to your shoulders and gently lift you up onto a softer, warmer surface. His lap. You rotate around onto your back, frailty, until you can somehow make out all the chiselled features on his face. He looks worried, concerned. Your not surprised.

It brings a wave of guilt over you, worrying him like that. You feel his heavy breathing skim your face, penetrating  a light glow form onto your colourless cheeks.

'You're okay...' You stifle a faint chuckle at the realisation, he's alive. You made it before he went into battle. His face is indifferent, no glint of the familiar humour or warming presence. His face is drained in utter shock. His hand skims over your head and chin, he withdraws it to his face in a quivering gasp.

'You're losing too much blood.' He murmurs, his heedful words don't affect you. That's until you see blood dripping from his skeletal hands. With his clean one, he slides his fingers through your knotted hair in soothing strokes, until it's as soft as silk, drenched with blood of course. You scuffle weakly further up his lap until your face is only an inch away from his.

'You're alive...' You repeat in a hushed whisper, this time he chuckles quietly. Emotionlessly.

'yes,' he agrees with his eyes creasing. 'Yes I am.'

Tears glaze his nonexistent eyes as he reaches out his hand to grasp yours. You feel his long fingers twine together with yours. A small smile plumps onto your pale face as you clutch his hand with your remaining strength. He brings your bonded limbs towards his face, he strokes your hand against his cheekbone, it makes you grin even wider, but makes the tears leak from his sockets. You feel the moist bone of his cheekbone with your skin.

His face is warm, unlike yours. You gasp faintly as you retrieve your hand away from his loose grasp and with your own strength, circle his features and touch his teeth gently with your blistered nails. Even though he can't kiss, the way he nuzzles your fragile hand, he's longing for his lips to touch your skin.

One last time, you hustle upwards an inch more. You clutch his jaw for balance, he doesn't mind the resistance, he has his  eyes pinned to your (e/c) eyes.. Soon you have your forehead touching his cheek, this position makes you giggle. Your not sure why you giggle, but it calms him down from his slow, wistful weeping. He puts his blood soaked hand on yours, and presses it tighter to his face. He squeezes it, which brings you the urge to flinch in pain, but you don't.

You can't possibly ruin this moment.

Your breathing heavily into his face from exhaustion, he doesn't mind it. Your breath turns into a soft cloud of smoke, caused by the chilly air, before fading away in the empty air. Feeling a wave of drowsiness mixed pain, you rest your head on his shoulder. But you still keep hold of every last moment.

Life is short, yours was somehow shorter. You need to cherish the last minutes of it with the one who made you feel, alive. The one who bought you to feel happy. And the one who bought you to feel love.

The good type of course.

'(Y/n), have I ever told you, you're the most beautiful girl I have ever met?'

His voice is flat and crisp, but you can tell, that on the inside he is enjoying each second that passes.

You feel too feeble to answer, so you mouth "no", letting out a scarce whisper of mixed sounds. He brings your hand to his mouth, he's squeezing it intently.
The pain is unbearable.

But so is your love.

'(Y/n), you are the most beautiful girl I have ever met.' He breaks into a frightening sob, his face is scrunched and his right eye has an orb of blue that dances crazy colours.

It scares you.

But you know he's only mourning in advance, he wants let you know how much he's going to make them pay for what they did.

But it's not their fault.

They didn't give you the curse.

'I...I' you start with a stammer before choking into a violent coughing fit, you face away into the woolly, blue material as your chest heaves heavily and you where, splutter and choke. When you calm down, it's suddenly all cold.

You're scared.

'Shh don't be scared' he whispers as you turn back around to face him, you open your mouth to try again but clamp it shut as he places his finger over your rosy, chapped lips.
'Don't talk.' He advises sadly.
He has a tendency to read the minds of people. You know that he will know exactly what you want to say.

With your last remaining, fragile strength. You swing over your far arm and wrap it around his stubby neck. It brings you to his chest in a weak hug.

He hugs back, massaging your blood soaked head with his hand and nuzzles your neck harshly with his face. He's sobbing angrily into you. It makes you start to leak more salty tears from your eyes. You squint as a beam of bright light embarks around both of you, you quickly push your face into his hoodie.

'don't leave me' he whimpers through gaps of his sobbing.

Too late.

You feel your heart slow down into a sunken beat, you feel terribly heavy, thick.

Breathing just brings an even more excruciating pain to you abdomen. It's too much pain for you. Instead of crying from sadness, you cry in pain.

You feel everything numb up as your wails escape your blood flooded mouth.

You feel nauseous.

Really nauseous.

Everything fades into a haze of pitch black.

You can't feel your body's response see what's going on, but you hear what's going on.

'No!' He screams.

'Don't you dare die on me!' He yells

I'm sorry.

'Come on! Wake up!' He urges with cracks in his voice.

You can't see him, but you can tell he's trying to bring your soul back to your body.

It's impossible.

'You idiot (y/n)! Don't you see right now is the time I need you most!' He screams, probably at your deceased body.

I would've stayed longer, you know that!

'Come on come on come on!' He sobs out forcefully.

Please, just leave me to peace!

After a long pause he finally speaks. 'Don't worry (y/n).' He says in a harsh whisper. He's very angry.

At you?

Or himself?

'I'll make them pay for every second you suffered!'

No...

You know that straight after this, come his final battle.

You've seen this be done so many fucking times.

It becomes a routine.

The worst routine ever made in history...

{word count: 1553 (not including A/n)}