~Your Perspective~

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Why did I ever agree to this?

Your whole body shakes as you stand backstage at the MTT Resort, your knuckles white as you clutch at your dress. Up until this moment, everything was fine. You'd managed to forget your nervousness, and was even looking forward to this whole "date" thing. You'd finished getting your dress (which looked absolutely fabulous, to quote a certain flamboyant robot), and then got your hair done at a nearby salon. Then after some shopping at the MTT department store, you, Alphys, and Undyne headed back to the lab so Mettaton could do your makeup for you.

It was a first (you couldn't stand makeup—it took too much time, and you felt it made you seem superficial if you did it), but you have to admit that Mettaton knew what he was doing. The first time you looked in the mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. You had a glow about you, and you felt really empowered for some strange reason...

But all of that disappeared once you got here. You'd forgotten that you'd have to go on stage.

Oh god... why are there so many people?! you ask yourself, anxiety twisting your gut into knots. At least 20 or 30 monsters are milling around backstage with headphones on and clipboards in their hands. They shout orders to each other, and hurry from place to place setting up cameras and props... I thought this was a performance. Not a reality TV show!

You take a shaky deep breath, and try to blink back the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes. You can't do this right now. You're supposed to go on in a few minutes, and the last thing you want to do is cry in front of the entire Underground.

Besides... how bad can it possibly be?

Mettaton came up to you a few minutes ago and told you what to do, and where to stand, etc. etc. He'd originally wanted you to sing for half an hour... but after seeing how distraught you were, he agreed to lower it to a single song. While you feel awful that the egotistical robot took pity on you... you can't help but be relieved. One song... you can do that. That's easy enough. ...Right?

Just... just imagine that you're doing it for Sans. Y-yeah. He's the only one that matters. If you pretend he's the only one in the audience, you should do fine.

Even as you tell yourself, though, the sound of Mettaton's voice from the other side of the curtains is enough to make you feel nauseous. You clutch at your dress so hard that you're afraid your knuckles will break. Your breath comes in gasps, and the room starts to spin around you.

No, no no no no no. No. I have to do this. I have to do this. Just... calm down. Breathe. In... and out...

It doesn't really help.

Oh god... what I wouldn't give to have Sans here right now.

Mettaton took your phone the moment you got backstage. He said something about "not wanting you distracted," and then took it with him somewhere. But now you have no way of contacting Sans... and all you want is to hear his voice.

He's out there, you remind yourself. He's in the audience. Calm down. You're going to be fine. Just... just relax. Focus on Sans. You're only singing for Sans. No one else. You're singing for your boyfriend.

You reach into your pocket (yes, Spiffet was awesome enough to give your dress concealed pockets) and pull out a palm-sized box. It reminds you of a ring box, with its pinstriped blue cloth, but the object inside is even more precious to you than any jewel. You open it for what must be the tenth time today, and smile at the object inside. It's the watch you picked out for Sans.

You put a lot of thought into every aspect of the watch. Firstly, the strap. You figured that metal would probably nick or harm the bones in Sans' wrist, so you opted for a fabric strap instead. The watch smith seemed surprised by your request—a braided strap made of silver fabric of some kind—but with a bit of effort, he produced exactly what you had asked of him. The strap is made of an intricately braided steel wool, and it glistens in the light cast between the curtains.

In comparison, the watch face isn't really anything special—it's silver and has roman numerals in the place of numbers. However, beneath the hands of the watch, there's a small, blue stone. It's in the shape of a four-point star, and it glows softly in the dim light of the room. As you stare at it, you can feel yourself start to calm down, and your heartrate begin to slow.

This is Sans' star.

What you're holding in your hands... is nothing less than Sans' drain crystal, plucked straight out of a river somewhere in Waterfall. You almost feel giddy as you stare down at it. Giving this to Sans... will cement your relationship with him. The two of you will be official. It's a silly thing to be excited about... but you still can't keep your heart from pounding at the thought.

You smile down at it, imagining Sans' face when he sees his gift. You can almost imagine his eyesockets going wide, his irises getting as big as full moons...

So cute.

You smile to yourself and snap the lid of the small box shut, and then slide it back into your dress pocket.

All I have to do is get through one song. One song, and then I can enjoy the rest of the night with him. I'll get to give him this, and I'll see him in a tux... You pause a moment, your grin widening at the thought. Sans in a tux... mmm~

According to Mettaton, the boys and Frisk had made their way to Spiffet's not long after you'd left. Sans had protested the entire time, but they'd eventually succeeded in getting him a tailor-made suit for the date tonight. You're looking forward to seeing him in something other than his hoodie—the fact that he dressed up for you makes you feel special.

Now that you're focusing on something else, your shaking isn't as intense, and the world isn't spinning quite as badly. You take another deep breath and steady yourself, straightening and trying to resist wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. You peer through the crack in the curtains, and listen in to what Mettaton's saying on stage.

"Welcome, beauties and gentlebeauties, to the evening show at the MTT resort! We have a fabulous lineup of entertainers for you tonight—as we do every night—but that's not all!" he exclaims, a proud smile on his face. "Tonight, we have a special guest!"

Butterflies dance in your stomach at his words. The moment he says your name, that's your cue to go on stage. You don't have much time...

"Coming to us straight from the surface, the fabulous singer and pianist..."

You take one last shaky breath and straighten your hair, trying desperately to stay calm.

"(Y/N)!"

You swallow hard and step through the curtains, the few silver fibers woven into your dress sparkling under the spotlights. The heat is stifling, and your chest is tight from barely contained panic. It's all you can do to keep yourself walking straight—you try to seem relaxed and smile, but you find it impossible. Your hands are shaking so hard you're convinced that they're actually vibrating.

Mettaton turns to face you the moment you appear on stage, an easy smile on his metallic face. He opens his mouth to greet you, but he freezes when he catches sight of you, his smile faltering. He takes in the shaking in your hands and the sweat on your brow, and for a moment you think you caught a hint of concern in his eyes. Before you can begin to feel touched at the robot's concern, the hint of emotion leaves his eyes, and he forces a microphone into your hands before turning back to face the audience.

Oh wow, Mettaton. Thanks, you think. How thoughtful of you.

Before you know it, Mettaton continues his introductions, his voice booming from the speakers in his chest. You don't know what he's saying, though. You're too focused on trying to keep yourself together to listen to his words. Your eyes feverishly take in the stage that you're standing on, you gaze fixating on the cameras off to the side. At the same time, a thought comes to you. By staring into the camera, you're staring into the eyes of every single monster in the Underground. The thought makes your knees go weak, and you hurriedly look away before your legs can give out completely.

Just... don't think about it. Don't think about it. Sans, think about Sans. You're only doing this for him.

You look out across the stage and scan the audience, desperately searching for the familiar sight of a short-statured skeleton.

Oh...

You shouldn't have looked. There's no way you could see Sans in that mess. Mettaton-shaped tables litter an auditorium-sized space, and each one is packed with well-dressed monsters of all shapes and sizes. All told, there must be at least a hundred. And all of them look so well-off, and they're looking at you with unguarded looks of curiosity and anticipation... Just the sight of them is making you more self-conscious.

Your chest starts to feel tight as your body activates your fight-or-flight reflex, sweat gathering on your palms and your muscles shuddering with excess energy. You can hear your heartbeat resounding through your skull, and your breath is coming in gasps...

This... this isn't good.

You grit your teeth and clench your fists, trying to get yourself under control. You can hear from Mettaton's tone that he's about to put you in the spotlight...

I... I don't want this. The only reason you ever agreed to this whole thing was so you could have a fancy first date with Sans. With your heartbeat thundering in your ears, you give the crowd one last desperate once-over.

Where... where is he?

No matter where you look, you don't see head nor tails of your skeletal boyfriend. And that fact... it only makes you panic more. Why isn't he here? Did he not make it? Did something happen? Did he not want to come? What if Flowey or Chara got to him—

"Take it away, Darling~!" Mettaton exclaims, gesturing flamboyantly in your direction. Right on cue, the spotlight shines down on you, bathing you in a circle of light. You freeze like a dear caught in the headlights, your eyes wide as you stare at the robot, and your brain slow to comprehend.

Soon, an awkward silence blossoms throughout the room. Everyone stares at you with expectant eyes, waiting for you to start your performance. It's so silent that you swear you could hear a pin drop. You continue to stare dumbly out at the audience, and probably would have stayed that way if a monster hadn't chosen that moment to cough.

You start and tear your gaze away from the assembled monsters, your grip tightening exponentially on your microphone. You're supposed to start singing now. You open your mouth, only to find that you hadn't even chosen a song. There's no music to back you up, either. You're completely on your own, and unprepared.

Everything's falling apart...

The thought almost makes you dizzy. It takes all of your willpower to hold yourself together, and even then, you feel as if your legs are going to give out.

I... I need to do this quickly.

The sooner you finish the song, the sooner you can get off this damn stage. You swallow hard and purposefully stare at the floor to help you gather yourself.

A song... I need a song.

With the world spinning around you like this, you can't concentrate. You fight back tears as you raise the microphone, and begin singing the first song that comes to mind.

~Meanwhile~

~Sans' Perspective~

I grumble quietly to myself and cross my arms, trying to keep myself from being too irritated. ...It's not working very well. Every time the door to the kitchen slams open beside me, I feel the need to punch a certain narcissistic robot in his oh-so-perfect face.

And here I was actually thinking that he was being considerate for once. Well. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice... and you're gonna get a blaster to the face. I'm gonna remember this, rust bucket.

At first, I thought this whole let-Mettaton-pay-for-the-date thing was a good idea. Why not, right? We'd be getting free food at the fanciest restaurant in the entire Underground. But now that I'm here, I'm starting to realize that the bucket of bolts played us for fools.

I was given a table in the very back of the auditorium, right next to the kitchen. I've almost been hit in the face by the door how many times now? Like... five? But that's not even the worst part. From back here, I can't even see the stage—the pink-and-silver form of our incredibly gracious host is practically a blur. I'd say it was a relief that I can't see his stupid face clearly... but if I can't see him, it also means I won't be able to see (Y/N)...

Ah... I miss her.

It's only been a day, but I already miss her. It's stupid, I know... but my soul is aching to see her smiling face.

On a whim, I pull my phone out of my pocket. She must've texted me or somethin' by now, right? I haven't heard from her since that call earlier. I can't help but sigh when I see that I have no new notifications.

...That's odd, I note.

I stare at my phone for a few more moments, but then shake my head and slide it back into my pocket. There's probably no reason to worry. Every time I do, I end up being wrong. So instead, I turn my attentions to something else.

She's gonna be wearing a dress...

My face starts to burn at the thought, and I can't help but pull at my suit's collar. I wasn't all that surprised when Mettaton announced that I was gonna need a tailor-made suit, but he sure was when I actually went along with it without protesting. Sure, I hate this thing. It's stuffy and uncomfortable. But if I'm doing it for her... well... it makes the effort worthwhile. I may look stupid in it, but at least she'll know I care enough to put in the effort.

As the bucket of bolts goes on and on about the "fabulousness" of tonight's lineup, I can't help but reach into my pocket and pull out a small, blue, velvet box. I smile down at it, recalling all the pain I went through today to get this little thing. (Hearing that robot talk all day was practically torture.)

I really hope she likes it...

I crack the box open, and examine the necklace for what must be the millionth time. A softly glowing blue stone has been expertly cut into a four-point star, and strung onto a dapped bar chain of platinum. That by itself looks beautiful, but then the jeweler decided to supplement the star with a few diamonds to either side. Sparkling together like that, I can't help but be mesmerized. I couldn't have asked for a better symbol of my love for her. The moment that thought crosses my mind, I cringe.

Ugh... If I get much cheesier, I'd smell like cheddar.

That realization doesn't stop me from being stupidly happy, though. I'm too excited for this thing to get started—bad seat aside, I'm going to get to hear (Y/N) sing, and see her in a dress... and then later, when I give her the necklace...

I can already see the look on her face~

I can't remember the last time I was so giddily happy. I search my memory, looking for something, anything that could compare. My first kiss with (Y/N) comes to mind, and the first time she told me she loved me... Everything that comes close centers on her, somehow.

I really am the luckiest monster alive...

I'm startled by a sudden loud exclamation from the stage, my head snapping up with enough force to make my vertebrae clack against each other.

"(Y/N)!" Mettaton exclaims, shifting to one side of the stage. He gestures towards the closed curtains, and right on cue, the lady of the hour appears. I can feel myself leaning forwards in my seat, my irises straining to see her more clearly.

"Goddamn, she... she's gorgeous," I mutter dazedly. Then I clap a hand across my teeth, mortified that I actually said that aloud. Even as I do it, though, my eyes never leave the stage.

She looks... I can't even...

Eventually, my hand falls away from my teeth, leaving me with a slack jaw and eyes full of wonder.

"She looks goddamn gorgeous," I repeat to myself, awestruck. And this time, I don't care who hears it—because she does. Everything about her radiates beauty, just as always. But tonight, that beauty is being put on display; put on display for me. And somehow, that makes it all the more obvious. I hardly even noticed the dress. It looks perfect on her, sure... but she would look just as stunning without it.

After my initial rapture has worn off, though, I begin to notice something else. Something... something's off. I can't quite put my finger on it... but there's just something about her posture that's... unnatural.

Something's wrong.

Not for the first time, I wish I were closer to the stage. If I were, then I could see her face, and tell for myself what's wrong. As I watch, her head turns this way and that, as if she's looking through the audience for something. It takes me a moment, but I eventually realize that she must be looking for me. I try to catch her eye and give her a wave... but I don't think she saw me. She passes right over me, and a sense of dread soon blossoms within me when I notice her abrupt, jerky movements.

Something's wrong... I think again, growing more concerned. Mettaton's chatter becomes nothing but white noise as I stare up at her, hoping with all my soul that I'm wrong, and that she's okay.

"Take it away, Darling~" Mettaton purrs, gesturing to her again.

...

Dead silence. The moment that silence spreads across the auditorium, I get a sinking feeling in my gut. I stare up at (Y/N), trying to send encouraging thoughts her way.

Stage fright, I think matter-of-factly. I've gone through it enough times to be able to recognize it.

As the silence stretches from seconds into minutes, I start to wonder whether or not I should yell something... get her attention, maybe snap her outta the trance that she's worked herself into. The thought of shouting in front of all the Underground is making my bones rattle, but if it means helping her in some way...

Luckily for my pride, another monster across the room chooses that exact moment to cough, breaking her trance. She starts and holds up the microphone, though it's visibly shaking in her hands, and begins to sing...

"W-wise... men... say... that only fools rush in..."

My eyes widen, and I can feel my soulbeat quicken as the sound of a familiar song softly echoes throughout the restaurant. That sudden rush of bashfulness doesn't last long, though. My soul skips a beat as (Y/N) trails off, and her knees start to buckle...

"(Y/N)!" I shout, panicked. Before I can even process the situation, I jump into action, teleporting to the stage. I catch her moments before she hits the floor, and hold her close.

"Let's get you out of here," I say softly.

"Sans..." she murmurs, eyelids fluttering. "I..."

"Shh," I quietly shush her, and tighten my grip. "Hold on tight."

She sluggishly does as I ask her, and her eyes slide closed as I let my magic light, spiriting the both of us somewhere where the damn bucket of bolts can't screw everything up.

~Your Perspective~

You squeeze your eyes shut as Sans teleports, the uneasy feeling of butterflies in your stomach being drowned out by an immense sense of relief. You're off the stage. You're out from under all of their judgmental gazes. And, more than anything... you're safe in Sans' arms.

Soon, you hear a loud popping sound, and a cold wind stirs the trail of your dress. You shiver a little bit and pull yourself closer to Sans, instinctively seeking the warmth that he radiates. You're content to remain there, eyes closed, soaking in Sans' warmth... but it's not meant to be. Sans' breath is abnormally loud in your ears, and when you open your eyes, you find that sweat is rolling down his face as he pants for all he's worth. Your eyes widen as his bones start to rattle, and his knees slowly buckle...

"Sans!" you exclaim, concerned. You slip out of his arms before he can fall over, and quickly slide your shoulder under one of his own. Despite a bright blue face, he accepts your help without too much complaint. He refuses to look at you, but you're not in mood to tease him for his bashfulness. "Are you alright?!"

Sans looks away, his face burning an even brighter blue. He takes a few more deep breathes before he speaks, and his bones slowly begin to cease their trembling.

"S-sorry about that," he mutters, embarrassed. "I wasn't thinkin' straight—brought us all the way back to Snowdin."

You'd already figured that out, what with the snow and all, but there's something about the way he says it that makes you even more concerned. Now that you think about it... that's quite the jump. He covered miles and miles within a few milliseconds.

"Are you okay?!" you repeat, growing more frantic.

"Yeah, yeah, Buttercup, I'm fine," Sans says quickly, hearing the fear in your voice. "Just went a little too far this time, that's all—used up a lotta magic at once. I'm just tired, I'll be fine in a coupla' minutes."

You're not convinced, and are about to ask again if he's alright when he smiles up at you and chuckles.

"Well, isn't this ironic. Wasn't I carrying you just a few seconds ago?" he asks weakly, grinning. His statement makes you smile despite your worry, and you duck your head slightly.

"Yeah, I guess so," you say softly.

Sans chuckles again but then stares into your eyes, his smile shrinking slightly, and his irises shining with concern.

"But enough about me. You alright, Buttercup?" he asks, straightening and brushing off your support. "That looked like... quite the ordeal."

"What?" you ask.

"Buttercup... you almost fainted, remember?" Sans asks, eyes widening.

"Oh..." you murmur.

Sans' sudden exhaustion had distracted you from the events of earlier, but at his words, your previous panic begins to resurface. You tremble and your knees suddenly feel weak as you remember the weight of their stares, the pressure that you felt...

"Woah there," Sans says softly, seeing your reaction. He quickly takes a step forward and hugs you tight against him. " It's alright. It's over now."

You shake your head slowly and bury your face in his shoulder, your face burning in shame and anger. It shouldn't have been that hard. It was just one song. One. That's all you had to do. But you couldn't handle it. You screwed it up, and Sans exhausted his magic to fix it. Now the two of you are standing out in the cold, surrounded by trees while your painstakingly prepared garb is soiled by softly falling snow.

"I... I'm sorry..." you murmur, voice muffled by Sans' suit. He sighs beneath you and runs his fingers through your hair, his every breath tickling your ear.

"For what, Buttercup?" he asks softly.

"I... I messed everything up," you whisper, fighting back tears. "We've been thinking about this for almost a month now, and I... I messed it all up. Just because I couldn't sing one measly little..."

You trail off and let out a shaky sigh, burying your face deeper into Sans' padded shoulder.

"I'm sorry..."

"You have nothing to be apologizing for," Sans says firmly. "Buttercup, you were onstage in front of hundreds of monsters, and you were being broadcasted across the Underground. You were brave to stand there as long as you did—if it were me, I would have teleported away the moment I saw the audience."

You know he's trying to make you feel better, but it's not so easy to snap you out of your stupor. However, you smile despite your lingering disappointment in yourself, and put up a front for him. You're surprised when his smile shrinks, and he reaches up to poke your forehead.

"Hey!" you exclaim, surprised. "What was that for?"

"Don't smile if you don't feel like it," Sans murmurs. You sigh, and your face falls back into a melancholy expression.

"You could tell?" you ask. Sans chuckles gently and takes your hands in his, giving you a gentle smile.

"Buttercup, you wear your heart on your sleeve. I can always tell."

You fall silent and stare at the ground, trying your best to mentally shake off your sadness. There's no point in dwelling on it—it's been done. You failed, and you'd escaped. It doesn't really matter anymore, right? You're about to sigh again when Sans slowly starts to move, pulling you after him.

"Wh-what are you...?" you ask, glancing up at him. Sans just grins at you and adjusts his grip, sliding one hand around your back, and intertwining his other hand's fingers with yours. Before you can think it through, you find yourself instinctively putting a hand on his shoulder. It's only after a few lazy circles in the snow that you realize what's going on.

"Sans?" you ask, a little flustered. "What are you doing?"

"Dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world," he answers simply, his eyesockets sliding shut. Your cheeks start to burn at the compliment, and you stare up at the trees above you to distract yourself.

"I think you need to get your eyes checked," you say softly. Sans chuckles, and presses his teeth against your cheek in a skeletal kiss.

"Nah Buttercup, eye can see you just fine," he says. You're silent for a moment, and only realize he made a pun after he starts laughing. You try your best to keep from smiling, but it blossoms on your face despite your efforts.

"You sure you aren't telling a fibula?" you counter, smirking. "I'm a pretty plain Jane."

"Nope. Just pretty," Sans says, grin widening. You chuckle and roll your eyes, relaxing slightly and posing less resistance as Sans twirls you around in the snow.

"I walked into that one," you admit. "But that doesn't mean I agree with it!"

"Maybe someday you will," Sans says sagely. "Until then, I'll just have to keep repeating myself. You're the most beautiful girl in the world."

You roll your eyes again, but bury your would-be dissent, silently resolving to let the feeling of inadequacy go for the time being. It's more important to enjoy the moment—because whatever shameful circumstances led to it, you're now dancing with Sans out in the snow, following the beat of no music except the pulsing of your souls.

"You're pretty light on your feet, handsome," you say softly, paying back his compliment with one of your own. Sans flinches at your words, accidentally stepping on your foot as he misses a beat. His face slowly begins to glow bright blue, and he intentionally chooses that moment to spin you around so you can't see his face.

"You sure you don't need your eyes checked, Buttercup?" he asks, chuckling nervously.

"Oh, eye'm sure," you say. "You look pretty dapper in a suit, Sansy~"

When he pulls you back against him again, his face is such a bright blue that you swear he could be a lightbulb.

"I-I'd sure hope so," he mutters, trying to sound confident. "It was a pain getting this thing made. It's got nothing on your dress, though—you're..."

He trails off for a moment, his irises briefly wandering away from your face. Then he flinches and snaps his gaze back up, his face (somehow) burning an even brighter blue.

"Yes~?" you ask, smirking.

"Boobifu—I-I mean, beautiful!" he blurts out, his face now blue enough to rival an echo flower. You snort at his slip, and Sans is embarrassed enough that he breaks contact with you to hide his face with his hands.

"Sssssssshhhhhhhhhh! You didn't hear anything!" he exclaims, mortified.

"Oh, suuuure," you purr, grinning. "I didn't hear anything."

Sans sighs and peeks between his fingers, studying you to look for any kind of adverse reaction. When he finds none, he slowly lowers his hands, and stuffs them in his pockets.

"Well, uh... ahem. I would say that you uh... do uh... *cough* anyway! Moving on," Sans rambles. You chuckle and saunter over to him, your feet crunching in the snow with every step. Then you stand in front of him, and wait for him to continue. He doesn't say anything, and instead looks into your eyes with an unreadable expression on his face.

"(Y/N)..." he murmurs eventually, "I..."

He takes a step forwards, and gently takes your hands in his.

"I... I just wanted to say... that I love you."

"I love you too, Sans," you say softly, smiling.

"Yeah, I know. But I... I want you to know how much that means to me," he continues, glancing away. "Before you, I've never... I've never loved anyone. I-I mean, don't get me wrong! I love my bro. But... what I have with you is different, and..."

He suddenly sighs explosively and dips his head, cheekbones burning just as powerful a blue as ever. He mumbles something under his breath, and then glances up at you bashfully.

"This is comin' out all wrong," he says quietly, chuckling ironically to himself. Then he gathers himself and looks up at you again, his irises displaying a newfound sense of confidence. "I guess... it's just better if I show you."

You gasp in surprise as you suddenly find yourself being pulled forward, a certain skeleton's arms wrapping around you. Sans holds you tight, and tilts his head back slightly to reach yours. Your eyes slide shut as he kisses you, his teeth pressing against your lips. Despite not having lips of his own, the meaning of the gesture is more than enough to send a tingling sensation traveling up and down your spine.

Your own arms soon find their way around Sans, and without meaning to, you find your fingers tracing his vertebrae. Sans shudders at your touch and presses harder against you, putting enough pressure on your mouth that the effort of keeping it closed is starting to make them hurt. Your face burns at the thought of him giving you tongue again, and the strange and yet pleasant sensation of an ectoplasmic tongue brushing against yours...

You're about to let him have his way when he moans suddenly and releases you, staggering back against a tree. You're surprised enough that you don't do anything but stare at him, confused at his sudden rejection.

Did I do something wrong...? Does he...? No. No, that can't be right. I know what he wanted. Is something else going on?

Sans pants slightly and clutches at his chest, eyesockets wide and irises as big as full moons. He's trembling ever so slightly, and when he notices your gaze on him, his cheeks heat up and he turns his back to you. At first, you're hurt. But... no. That can't be all there is to it.

Why was he covering his chest like that? you ask yourself. You observe him for a few more moments, and when he doesn't turn back around, you sigh and decide to investigate.

"Sans?" you ask delicately, sensing that something sensitive is going on. "Sans, is something wrong?"

He flinches at the sound of his name and slowly turns around to face you, a carefully constructed smile on his face. What confuses you more, though, is that his hands are carefully positioned over his chest—as though there's something there that he's hiding from you. But what? His suit? You tilt your head slightly as you look at him, and narrow your eyes in confusion.

"Are... you okay?" you ask, noting the look of confliction on his face.

"O-oh, u-um... I'm fine, Buttercup," he says shakily, a strange gleam to his eye. "Just uh..."

One of his hands jerks slightly in its place against his chest, as though he wanted to rub the back of the skull, but had to stop himself. You raise an eyebrow, the gesture only confusing you further.

Just what is he trying to hide?

"Sans?" you ask again. "Did I... do something?"

"No!" he exclaims. Then he cringes, and corrects himself. "Well, yes, kinda. But it's not really anything bad, y'know. Just uh..."

Sans sighs again, and mutters something under his breath that you can't catch.

"I just gotta little carried away, that's all," he says finally, averting his eyes.

"Carried away?" you ask. You think you're beginning to understand why he's flustered—you'd been pretty aroused yourself—but that doesn't explain why and what he's trying to hide. So, curiosity getting the better of you, you just decide to get straight to the point. "Sans, what're you hiding your chest for?"

He jumps slightly, as if he hadn't expected you to ask such a direct question. The movement disturbs his hands just enough that you catch a glimpse of a soft, royal blue glow. Sans quickly realizes his mistake and covers it up again, but not before you realize what it is you're looking at. Your eyes go wide, and your heart picks up the pace in your chest, beating like a kettle drum.

"Sans..." you murmur, voice hushed, "is that your soul?"

You could barely see it through the black of his suit... but there was no mistaking it. You'd seen an upside-down heart shape shining through his clothes.

Sans goes silent, his irises darting away when you tried to look him in the eye. His hands tighten his grip on the front of his suit, and the sweat appearing on his skull betrays his nervousness. You've driven him into a corner.

Suddenly, blue sparks fizzle into being around your skeletal boyfriend, shining momentarily in the air a moment before fading out with a pathetic sounding whine. Sans' eyesockets widen, and he takes a step back, a mix of fear and guilt shining in his eyes. Yet again, you're left confused. But when you notice him looking for a possible escape route...

"Sans, did you just try to teleport?" you ask incredulously.

For what seems like the umpteenth time, he flinches, and plasters on a fake smile before turning to you.

"N-no, of course not," he says, lying through his teeth. "Why would I do that?"

"Sans," you say firmly, putting your hands on your hips. He withers under your accusing look, and drops his hands with a sigh. Sure enough, a royal blue heart shape is clearly shining through the fabric of his suit. Its light pulsates rapidly, and the longer you stare at it, the brighter Sans' blush gets.

"I was just... uh... gonna take a shortcut home," Sans admits eventually, fiddling with his collar nervously. "But it seems like I'm outta gas."

"Mmmhmm," you hum, eyebrows lowering. "What, and you were gonna leave me to freeze out here in the snow?"

"N-no," Sans says sheepishly. "Never. I was gonna come back... eventually."

You sigh and facepalm, in awe of what's coming out of his mouth right now. You glare at him, and he gives you a nervous chuckle, trying to shrug the whole incident off. You roll your eyes and sigh, deciding to cut the uneasy skeleton a break. You know he would never intentionally hurt you. Instead of getting angry, you decide to walk over to him. Sans watches you get closer, and subconsciously backs up until he's against the tree again.

"U-uh... Buttercup?" he squeaks. His soul seems to be pulsating even faster than it had a few moments ago. You look at it for a moment, and then... gently trace along the outline of its shape on Sans' suit. Sans tenses beneath you, and the pulsing of his soul gets ever faster.

"A-ah~" he moans. "(Y/N)..."

"Is this your soul?" you ask again, trying to remain firm and ignore the blood rushing to your cheeks. Sans sighs and gives in, slumping slightly against the tree.

"Yeah..." he murmurs, cheeks bright.

You nod, and a tense moment of silence passes between you. Then you smile, and steal a look at him. Only when you make eye contact do you break it.

"It's so pretty..." you say quietly. Then you lean forward and kiss the top of his skull. "I love it. I love you."

Sans heaves a huge sigh of relief, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you again... but then, to your surprise, he presses something into your hand. You blink and draw back, finding yourself holding a velvet-covered box. It's not unlike the one in your pocket, actually.

"U-uh... I'm sure the girls already told you about all of this, but-uh... there's apparently this tradition in monster culture where couples—serious couples—give each other a family star," Sans says, rubbing the back of his skull.

"Yeah, they told me all about that," you say. "Is this...?"

"Yeah."

Sans seems to be at a loss for words, and as a result, another silence passes between you. You stare down at the box, a wash of emotions flowing over you.

"That's uh... my family star," Sans says eventually, deciding that it warrants better explanation. "Got it straight off the ceiling today. I... don't know who passed it down to me, and I didn't know this was a thing until today... But I do know that it's something you're only supposed to do for someone you genuinely love and care about. It's like... the equivalent of giving them your soul."

At those last words, Sans reaches down and touches the spot where his soul is shining through his suit.

"My soul... it's been yours for a long time now," he continues. "And so... I wanted you to have a reminder of it."

"And you have mine," you murmur softly.

"What?"

"And you have mine," you repeat, smiling.

"Your what?"

"My soul, silly," you say, chuckling. "My soul. It belongs to you, and has for a long time."

Sans goes still and stares at you, as though he's having a hard time comprehending what you're saying. You roll your eyes and rummage around in your dress's pocket, before pulling out your own velvet box. It's significantly larger than the one Sans gave you, and you can't help but be satisfied with your choice as you hand it to him. His movements are slow and delayed when he takes it, as though he's in some kind of trance.

"This... is for me?" he asks, irises unfocused.

"Yeah," you affirm, smiling gently at him. "Every star has its matching crystal, after all."

Sans stares down at it for a moment, before beaming back up at you with an expression of pure joy. You can feel his expression mirrored on your own face, and give him a broad smile in return.

"Open it," you say. Yours can wait. You've been waiting all day to see his face when he saw what you got him—you don't want to wait any more. He looks as if he's going to protest for a moment, and tell you to open yours first. However, when he sees the look of unbridled anticipation on your face, he rolls his eyes and turns back to the box in his hands.

"Alright, alright. If you insist."

You watch as he opens it, his eyesockets going wide and his irises practically sparkling when he sees what lies within the box. He stares at for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what he's thinking. Then his smile grows wide enough that it practically splits his face in two, and he looks up at you. So much joy is being radiated in your direction that your heart almost skips a beat.

"You like it?" you ask, trying to hold back gleeful laughter.

Sans purposefully tries to get his face under control, fighting to look neutral. He almost succeeds, too—but the corners of his mouth keep twitching. Then, in the most serious voice he can muster, he looks up at you and says...

"Nah, I don't like it."

You already know what he's going to say next.

"I—"

"You love it," you interject.

"Love—dammit. Too slow, huh?" Sans asks, grin forcing its way back onto his face.

"Careful Sansy~" you purr, circling around him to hug him from behind. "You're starting to become predictable."

You can feel a tremor run through his body at your touch, and he gives a shaky sigh before taking the watch out of the box.

"Oh, am I now?" he asks, a smile to his voice. "Guess I'd better watch myself."

You'll never admit it, but he actually caught you that time. You laugh despite yourself, and nuzzle the back of his skull with your forehead. He jumps slightly beneath you, but then settles again, leaning into your embrace.

"This is... wow, Buttercup," he breaths, holding the watch up. The silver of it flashes in the light of the ceiling stars above, making the object seem mystical in the whiteish-bluish light. "This is perfect."

"I thought it was about time for you to get a watch," you comment, observing him carefully as he studies it. "You're too lazy to check your phone."

Sans laughs, and you're close enough to him that you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your chest.

"You've got me there, Buttercup. But who says that I'll check the time even if it's on my wrist? Asking you is just so much easier~"

"Yeah, yeah~" you say playfully, getting up on your tips of your toes to rest your chin on his skull. Sans doesn't protest, and instead continues to look at the watch.

"I like what you did with the drain crystal," he says eventually, studying it. "It marks every quarter hour—that's really clever."

"Not really. I thought the symbolism behind the watch was better thought out," you say, your eyes sliding shut as you relax.

"Symbolism?" he asks. "What d'you mean?"

"It's a reminder," you say vaguely.

"A reminder of what?" he asks, chuckling.

"A reminder that time is moving forwards," you say softly. "And that it will continue to do so."

Sans falls silent at your words, and you can feel a tremor run through his bones.

"Time... will keep moving forwards," he says slowly, deliberately. "Time ticks on. I'm not trapped in the resets anymore."

"That's right," you say. "No matter what happens, I'll make sure that time keeps moving on for you. I promise you that."

Sans sighs heavily beneath you, and puts more of his weight on you.

"Be careful with promises, Buttercup..." he says half-heartedly.

"I am," you remind him. "This is one that I plan on keeping."

You hear a loud sniff, and your eyes fly open. You aren't really surprised to see that blue ectoplasmic tears are slowly rolling down Sans' cheekbones.

"Oh, Sans," you sigh. You gently help him wipe his tears away, and hold him tighter against you.

"I really hope you can make good on that promise, (Y/N)," he murmurs shakily. "That would be the greatest gift you could give me."

And with that, Sans puts the watch on. He gasps sharply and staggers slightly, and you have to tighten your grip to keep him from collapsing again.

"Sans?!" you exclaim, alarmed.

"I-I'm fine," he says, shakily getting to his feet. "It's just the drain crystal—it's straining my magic a little."

"What?"

You remember Alphys' explanation of drain crystals—how they take magic from the monsters they come into contact with and transfer it to their partner star crystals.

"Then maybe you shouldn't wear it," you say, worried. "If it's using up your magic, then—"

"No!" Sans shouts, turning to face you. "I'm not gonna take this thing off. Ever."

You blink, and your cheeks inexplicably begin to heat up. You're about to say something, but then Sans silences you with another kiss. You blink in surprise and then allow your eyes to slide shut, letting him coax your mouth open. You shiver as his magic-made tongue slides against your own, the strange tingly sensation of magic sending tremors through your entire body. Sans moans quietly and pushes against you, forcing your back against a nearby tree. The sudden brushing of Sans' pelvis against your own creates... feelings... in other areas, drawing a quiet moan from you against your will.

The moment the sound escapes your lips, he pulls back, the look of longing on his face conflicting with fear and hints of reservation. His soul is pulsating more quickly than ever in his chest, and Sans instinctively holds a hand up to it.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Got carried away again."

You could've kept going...

Of course, you don't say that out loud. If he did, you... uh... may not have been able to control yourself. And seeing as you have no idea how monster reproduction even works... well... better safe than sorry. You can save those feelings for a day after you and Sans have talked it out.

...

You face burns at the very thought of that conversation.

"You still haven't opened yours," Sans says quickly, changing the subject. You give him a silent 'thank you' for the switch of topics, and inspect the little box again.

Outside, it seems fairly unassuming. When you open it, however... the sight of the softly glowing four point star makes your chest grow tight, and makes your eyes water. You hold a hand to your mouth, and try to find words to express what it is you're feeling right now.

"Sans..." you say, trying to keep your voice steady, "it's..."

Sans waits patiently, an obvious look of nervous anticipation on his face.

"It's perfect," you whisper. "It's beautiful, and your star... and... oh..."

The words tumble from your mouth incoherently, and you're so in awe at the necklace that you hardly even know what you're thinking at the moment. You can tell how much effort went into this... and his star is so...

Perfect, you think. It's the only word that comes to mind. Sans has given you his soul, and nothing could be a more perfect representation of that commitment than the piece of jewelry before you.

Sans says nothing, but beams at you and gently takes the box back from you. He gently scoops the necklace up and fiddles with the clasp, before circling around so that he's behind you.

"May I?" he asks, playing the part of a gentleman.

"Of course..." you murmur, your head still in the clouds.

The feel of his bony phalanges on your bare neck as he brushes away your hair sends shivers down your spine, and the feeling of metal against your skin follows. However, it's not cold, as you expected it to be. (You were still standing out in the middle of the snow, despite how irrationally warm you were from Sans' touch.) Instead, there was a kind of warmth to it. As though it had been sitting out in the sun on a warm spring day. Then, the moment the necklace is around your neck... something happens.

Your eyes widen as your chest tightens, wave after wave of foreign energy suddenly pulsing through your body. You gasp and clutch at the necklace—the epicenter of the strange feeling—but it only makes it intensify.

W-what?

You've... you've felt this before. You know what this is. Love. It feels like... love. A love more powerful than you've ever known in your entire life—the kind of love that would drive people over the edge if it disappeared. There's also an underlying buzzing, or a vibration... like you're listening to the bass of a song without the accompanying sounds. Your eyes widen, and you instinctively find yourself searching out the source of these newfound feelings. They're emanating from your necklace, yes... but you also have this strange sense that they're being transmitted from...

Sans.

For whatever reasons, the vibrations remind you of him. The vibrations taste like embittered ketchup and feel like bone, look like a permanent smile, and sound like a strange mixture of laughter and sobs. And of course, there's the love. It overshadows everything else, a love that's unending, and deep, and focused solely on you... You feel all of that at once, and yet don't, at the same time. As if you're trying to recall a memory, and it's just beyond your reach.

Woah... what? What... what is this?

The world spins dizzyingly around you for a few moments, so disoriented are you by the sudden wave of feelings you've encountered. The next thing you know, Sans' arms are wrapped protectively around you, and you can barely make out the sound of his voice amidst the strange vibrations.

"(Y/N)?"

The moment your name leaves his mouth, the vibrations go crazy. And, almost as if in response... you can feel your soul ache in your chest.

"(Y/N)?!" Sans asks again, more frantically this time. "(Y/N)! Hey, come on, answer me! Are you alright? What's going on? Should I go get Alphys? Oh god, I can't teleport. Uh... Uh..."

"Sans," you say loopily, not all-there quite yet. "Sans... what... what is this?"

He tenses beneath you.

"What d'you mean, Buttercup?" he asks, concern lacing his tone. The vibrations seem to change ever so slightly along with his mood, growing heavier with his concern.

"I... I can feel... you. But it's not you. But it is..." you mutter, trying to explain. "What... what is this?"

Sans goes quiet for a moment, and for whatever reason, you can practically sense the fact that he's thinking hard about it.

"Maybe... but there's no way. Humans can't sense soulwaves," he tells himself. "But... maybe these crystals...?"

He holds you close and looks into your eyes for a moment.

"I'm going to try something," he tells you. "If you feel any different... tell me, okay?"

You nod. Or, at least you think you did. You can't really register what's happening around you—because all of a sudden... you're completely at the mercy of the vibrations. You gasp, and can't help but start to shake at the intensity of it.

"Wh-what? What? What?"

You're incapable of saying anything else. It's too strong. Too much. You can't handle all of this. You can see the barest glimpse of a royal blue heart before the sensations stop completely, the glow of Sans' soul disappearing along with it. Well, no. Not completely. You can still feel it in the back of your head—a little bit of a tingling that strengthens whenever you think of Sans.

But whatever the case, you're now able to stand up on your own. Disoriented, you grasp at your necklace. The stone feels oddly warm under your palm.

"Sans... what was that?" you ask again, eyes wide. When you see his expression, you only grow more confused. He looks elated.

"That, Buttercup... was my soul. You could feel my soul."

You take a moment to let that sink in.

"Your... soul? I can feel your soul?" you ask, incredulous. "No way..."

"Yeah," he confirms, grinning. "The minute my soul was out of my body, you practically fainted. Oh, but don't worry! That was just 'cause you aren't used to it yet, I think."

You place a hand on your head, trying to abate your still lingering dizziness.

"That... that was your soul?" you ask, trying to process it.

"Well, my soulwaves, more specifically. It's a... a kinda energy that souls give off," Sans says, trying to explain. "It lets monsters know when someone is nearby, or lets them sense when their loved ones are in danger. ...Among other things."

"Other things?" you ask, curiosity piqued. Sans acts like he doesn't even hear you, and his expression suddenly darkens.

"Hey... it didn't... feel bad, did it?" he asks, uneasy. You take a moment to think about it.

How did it feel?

"It felt... like you," you say eventually. "And there was so much love..."

You turn your necklace in your fingers, you brow furrowing.

"It felt like you," you repeat, not knowing of any better way to describe it. You stare into the distance, trying to recall the vibrations you'd felt. You're so deep in thought that you jump when Sans takes you hand.

"Hey... uh..." he mutters, rubbing the back of his skull sheepishly, "you wanna go to Grillby's? This whole thing may have been a flop... but we can at least still go get something to eat. You're hungry, right?"

Your stomach answers before you can, letting out an extremely embarrassing growling sound.

"Welp, I guess that's my answer," Sans says teasingly. "Let's go to Grillby's."

"Alright," you say sheepishly. "Sounds good. I could use a burger right around now."

The two of you begin trudging your way back to Snowdin. When the town lights are just peeking over the horizon, Sans suddenly stops you again.

"(Y/N)..." he murmurs, "I love you."

And with that, he kisses you again.

...

It would be a while before you actually made it to Grillby's.

~That Night~

You're safe in your bed, exhausted after an evening of casual fun over at Grillby's. You'd been so relived to just talk to Sans and Grillby and laugh as you always did. The events of the failed concert at the MTT resort have become nothing but a distant memory, although the thought of it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You yawn and clutch at your necklace, treasuring the warmth and soft light it gives off. If you concentrate hard enough, those strange vibrations resurface. Tonight they feel satisfied, calm. Wherever Sans is, whatever he's doing, you think he feels the same way you do. Before long, you fall asleep, lulled into the darkness by the soft unheard melody of Sans' soul.

***

The next thing you know, you're... somewhere. You don't know where. It's not the void—your surroundings are a navy blue instead of unending black, and there's clearly stone beneath your feet—but the space seems so wide and open that you doubt it could be found in waterfall. You look around for a moment, and then decide to look up on a whim. On the ceiling shine two stars—both shaped in a four-point pattern. You smile up at them, and reach for your necklace...

"I am the river person."

Suddenly, a voice resounds through the space, and you spin around to find yourself being dwarfed by a large robed figure. It towers over you, its body hidden beneath the shadows of its ragged hood. It reminds you of the river person... but for whatever reason, they give off a different sort of feel than they usually do.

"I am the river person," they repeat. "I carry souls up and down this river unceasingly, guiding them through the turbulent waters of life. I carry, I sing, I guide. The future bears its face to me, and I give allusions to those that seek to know its mysterious ways."

The cloaked figure hunches over you, as if to study you.

"Your future... the eighth's future... I cannot see it. It is uncertain, constantly shifting and blurred. I sense... an interference. Someone, something, has planned to tamper with the workings of fate. I see... a pair of hands. White, aged. They pull at the strings of fate, and place you on a path unnatural to this world. For better or for worse, I cannot tell."

The figure straightens again and stares into the distance with a surprising amount of intensity. You turn to look where they're looking, but find nothing but the wide open plain of rock.

"A gift or a curse, your future has been left undecided by fate. If you can hear me, eighth, I shall give you a warning—for every string pulled, another one will snap. For every fortune, a misfortune. For every step forward, a step back. Time favors its predestined path—it will be difficult to persuade it away."

Fear blossoms in you at their words, and you have to work hard to keep from shaking.

"That is all I have to say. Father time has his gaze fixed on you, young one. Be careful."

And with that... the figure disappears, leaving you alone in a sea of navy rock.

Fin

Final Author's Note

And that, my friends, is the end of WTSM. Enjoy your cliffhanger. XD

But don't worry! There's gonna be a sequel. ;3

(When Two Fates Intertwine, coming soon to a website near you~)

But in the meantime! I've got a few things to say.

Firstly, thank you to Fate  for the awesome chapter image. It's beautiful, and it's amazing, and it's perfect, and AH I LITERALLY DON'T HAVE THE WORDS. Thank you sooo much~

Next. Thank you to every single person that's stuck to WTSM thus far, and especially to my followers. All of you are amazing, and though you may not have known it, you've helped me through some difficult times. Thank you all for your encouragement. It really means a lot to me, and I hope you all will continue to support me in the future.

And then, this is where I do some shameless self-advertising. If you haven't already, you should check out (https://www.wattpad.com/story/96541227-when-all-else-fails-a-zanatale-oneshot) (it may shed some light on that last cliffhanger~), (https://www.wattpad.com/story/74046207-my-greatest-experiment-skelebros%27-origin-story) and (https://www.wattpad.com/story/82880521-sans-x-reader-one-shot-booklet).

That's all I've got for you, guys. Until next time~

*Happily goes to click the "complete" button*