Sans' Perspective

We haven't found anybody. We've searched, and we've searched, and we've searched... and yet we haven't found a single soul. I know Waterfall is big, but this is ridiculous. We've already checked every single place I can think of, including the hidden alcove behind that one waterfall. And yet... nothing. Nada. Zilch. We haven't even found Paps, and he's the kind of guy that thinks that hiding in his closet makes him invisible. I'm starting to think this whole thing is some kind of elaborate setup. I should've known. Especially since my bro—the king of unnecessary complexity—helped plan all of this.

Though I guess I haven't really been tryin' my hardest. Being handcuffed to (Y/N) is extremely... um... distracting. My soul is currently in the middle of an escape attempt, and I can't go so much as two steps without feeling the urge to check and make sure she's following me. (Which is stupid, since she literally can't be more than two feet away from me, with these handcuffs.)

I can't really say I'm surprised, though. This weird need I have to be around her is pretty much my new normal, and I'm starting to learn how to deal with it. Or... I thought I was. Oh geez, I'm such an idiot—I should have seen that coming! She has an empathetic soul—of course she noticed I was acting weird. But whenever she brought it up, what did I do? I brushed her off. Over, and over, and over again. I pushed her away. I shouldn't be surprised that she blew up like that—I practically lit the fuse for her.

And after we'd kinda resolved the issue, what did I do? I hugged her. No, I clung to her. Sure, it started out as an accident, but the instant she got close to me, I latched onto her like some kind of needy kid. I can't believe I... this is... I sigh, and absentmindedly watch the moss pass by underneath my feet.

This is torture. I want so badly to be close to her, but there's always something that gets in the way. My stupidly irrational fears are constantly holding me back, and whenever I do manage to get past them, I somehow manage to screw everything up. ...Just like I did a few minutes ago. After that whole argument thing, (Y/N)'s pretty much gone silent. The only words that have come out of her mouth since I let go of her are to ask me where we should go, or if I've found anyone.

Even now, all we're doing is walking along in silence, supposedly looking for our friends. I steal a glance over at her, only to find that she's looking in the other direction. To her credit, she looks as if she's legitimately keeping an eye out for the others, but there's something about her body language that tells me that's not the whole story. I know that she said that she liked it when I held her... but...

All of a sudden, the silence between us becomes stifling. I need to hear her voice. I need to know that I haven't upset her. I scramble to find a conversation topic, trying to come up with something, anything, that'll break the silence that's formed between the two of us.

...When did I ever start to care this much?

The thought comes out of nowhere, and stops me dead in my tracks. Before I'd met (Y/N), I would never have cared about something like this. Something so small, so insignificant. Unless it involved Paps, I didn't really care about anything—much less any single person. If I insulted anyone, what did it matter? It would all be reset anyway. And even if it didn't... I figured that they probably didn't really care, either. I was just a blip on the infinite radar of the cosmos—just an average Joe, who happened to tell the occasional joke to hide his crushing depression. I would ultimately be forgotten; whether it was caused by a reset, or just worn away by the good ol' passage of time.

But now? Somehow, all of that's changed. I may not care what everyone thinks—I'm not completely healed of my trauma yet—but her opinion of me... it's literally the most important thing in the world to me. Just the thought of unintentionally hurting her, in any way, is sending me into a tailspin.

"Sans?" (Y/N) asks, glancing uncertainly back at me. The chain on our handcuffs is pulled taut, and (Y/N) is gently straining against them. I was so deep in thought that I didn't even notice that I'd stopped walking. "Sans, is everything okay?"

"What? Oh, heh—yeah," I say quickly, rushing forward to catch up with her. "I'm fine."

The two of us keep walking, but she's not looking for the others anymore. Instead, she's staring at me with an unreadable expression on her face. It's kinda freaking me out, actually. What if I upset her again? Then, as nervous sweat drops start to form on my forehead... she dramatically raises an eyebrow. If it were anyone else, that wouldn't mean anything to me. But coming from her... geez. She really does have me wrapped around her little finger.

"I was just thinking," I reluctantly elaborate. I know I wanted to find a conversation topic... but this wasn't really what I had in mind.

"What about?" she asks.

"...Nothin' important," I mutter. (Y/N) gives me a weird look, and makes a disappointed sounding hum.

"I see," she deadpans. She doesn't say anything else, and looks away. The silence quickly follows.

Oh no, not again. C'mon Sans, you're losing her—talk about something else! But what do I... a pun! That's your specialty. Tell her a joke, and make her laugh. That'll sweep all of this awkwardness under the carpet. Ooh, she's sure to like this one.

"Uh... hey, (Y/N)?" I ask. She glances over at me, a questioning look on her face. "What's the difference between ignorance and apathy?"

"Ignorance is when a person doesn't know something. Apathy is when someone does know something, but doesn't put the knowledge into practice because they don't want to," she says. "Why do you ask?"

Wow. She sounds like she read that directly out of a dictionary.

"Uh... just say 'I don't know,'" I tell her. She blinks in confusion, and her head cocks ever so slightly to the side. It's a cute little tick of hers.

"Oh, so this is a joke?" she asks, breaking into a small smile.

"Yup. Now let's try this again," I say, mirroring her smile. "What's the difference between ignorance and apathy?"

"I don't know," she says.

"...And I don't care."

She stops walking, and her smile completely vanishes. She's giving me this really intense look, and for a minute, I think that I might've said something wrong. But then... she starts giggling. Her hand automatically flies to her mouth, and she seems to be trying hard to hold back... but it doesn't really do her much good. Soon, her laughter is echoing all throughout Waterfall, carried along by the echo flowers dotted along the pathway.

"Oh my gosh," she gasps. "Sans! That—that's just—oh my gosh."

"I knew you'd like that one," I say with a chuckle. "It had your name written all over it."

"Oh yeah?" she asks innocently. "What makes you say that?"

I go to answer her, but then a particularly bright echo flower catches my eye. It's sitting alone in the middle of the pathway, directly in front of us—almost as if someone had intentionally planted it there. Its convenience is almost too perfect... and seeing it gives me an idea.

"You know what? I'll let the flower tell you."

"...What?"

I don't answer, and instead kneel next to the flower. (Y/N) squeaks in surprise as she's forced to bend over (darn it—I keep forgetting about these handcuffs), but she seems more curious than annoyed. Her attention is encouraging, and I take a breath and cup my hands around the flower. I'm careful to whisper when I tell it my joke; it's supposed to be a surprise. When I'm done, I stand back up, and give (Y/N) space to crouch next to it... but she doesn't do anything.

"Um... I'm lost," she says, giving me a confused look. "Did you just whisper something... to a flower?"

"Yup."

"...Why?"

"C'mon, I can't just tell you! It wouldn't be any fun if I did that," I say. I try hard not to, but I end up smiling mischievously anyway. I can't wait to see the look on her face... I wish I had a camera. "Just touch one of its petals, and see what happens."

"Well, um... if you say so," she says uncertainly. She shuffles over to the flower, and carefully crouches next to it. As she goes to touch it, though, the meaning behind my little jape suddenly registers with me.

Oh geez—what was I thinking?! I can't say that!

"Wait!" I exclaim. I instinctively jerk on our handcuffs, and pull her hand away from the flower moments before she would have touched it. She gasps in surprise, and then shoots me a sour look as she ends up falling onto her rear. I cringe at her expression, and nervous sweat drops instantly form on my skull.

"U-uh... on second thought... let's just forget about it," I stammer. "W-we'd better keep looking, right? If we don't find the others soon, we might never get these things off."

I go to keep walking, but (Y/N) doesn't budge. When I look back at her, she's studying me with a creepy grin on her face.

"Ooh, you shouldn't have said that," she says. "Now I'm curious."

We stare at each other for a full three seconds before her grin widens, and she reaches out for the flower...

"W-wait—don't—"

"Some girls are smart, and some girls are sweet—but somehow you're both, and it's really a treat. You're such a smart cookie."

As my voice is lazily emitted by the echo flower, my face has plenty of time to transition from chalk white to aquamarine. And for good reason. (Y/N) has gone completely still, and even when the echo flower stops, she doesn't move to get up.

Oh god, that was a mistake.

She continues to stare at the flower for what seems like an eternity. And then, eventually... she slowly turns to look up at me. I brace myself for the worst, expecting some kind of 'that's a horrible pun Sans,' or maybe a resigned glare. However, the expression that's on her face is the last thing I expected. She looks almost... bashful? She has this cute pink tinge to her cheeks, and she's twirling her hair around one of her fingers.

"Do you really think I'm sweet and smart?" she asks quietly.

"...Would it be a bad thing if I did?" I ask uncertainly.

She stares at me for a few seconds, and then starts giggling.

"Why in the world would that be a bad thing?" she asks, smiling at me. "That was really sweet of you, Sans."

I can actually feel the temperature of my face rising at her words. I swallow hard, and try my hardest not to look as darn flustered as I feel. It obviously doesn't work very well, because (Y/N) is still staring at me, and her smile is only growing wider.

"We should probably get moving," she says, a flash of something mischievous in her eyes. "If this keeps up, we're going to be stuck out here all night."

I get the feeling that she wanted to say something else, but she's purposefully cutting me a break. She gets to her feet, and starts walking again. Not knowing what else to do, I follow her.

We end up falling into another silence. This one, though, isn't as tense as the first—it's more... I dunno... amicable? At any rate, it doesn't bother me nearly as much. I make an extra effort to look for our friends this time around. 'Cause she's right—if they really are out here, we're going to end up searching all night if we don't pick up our pace.

"You don't think they could be in the water, do you?" she asks eventually. She's studying a lightly glowing pond, and seems as if she's about ready to jump in.

"I seriously doubt it," I say quickly, gently pulling her away from the pond's edge. "Let's stay away from the water, okay? I don't wanna be soaking wet on top of everything else that's happened today."

"But where else could they be? We've already checked everywhere else you could think of, and I'm starting to run out of ideas, here. I'm getting desperate."

"Well, we haven't looked everywhere yet, I guess... but tibia honest with you, I'm starting to think that this whole thing was pointless to begin with," I say tiredly.

"Yeah, that's the feeling I was getting, too," she sighs. "Frisk sucks at hide-and-seek—if she were actually hiding, we would've found her by now."

"Paps too," I agree.

"Well, in that case... now what?" she asks, glancing over at me. "We've been at this for hours. Should we just give up and head back?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I dunno about you, but I'm bone tired."

(Y/N) giggles a little at my pun, and as always, rolls her eyes along with it.

"Arlighty then. Lead the way," she says. "If you haven't noticed, I have an awful sense of direction."

"Oh, I've noticed all right," I say cheekily, leading her back the way we came. "Remember that time you got lost in the MTT department store?"

"Oh geez, not this again," she complains. "You're always holding that over my head—"

"I can't believe you actually asked the guy at the lost kid station to call me over the intercom—"

"I left my phone at home!"

"That was hilarious. And then there was that time you got lost on your way to Snowdin—"

"That was barely three days after I fell down here!"

"Oh, and how could I forget that time that you accidentally—"

"Sans!" she exclaims, playfully shoving my shoulder. "C'mon, at least spare me that one!"

"Alright, alright," I say, winking. "I'll just have to save it for later, when we have an audience."

"Saaaaans!"

She's so easy to tease, and I love doing it. Her embarrassment is adorable, and always manages to make me smile. Oh, and then there's that look she gives me when she doesn't understand something—she somehow manages to look like an awe-struck puppy. (Yes, I do know what that looks like. The Undernet can be a wild place.)

Suddenly... I get an idea. There's one place in Waterfall that (Y/N) hasn't seen yet, and it's arguably the most beautiful spot in the entire region. Yeah, I'm tired, and I want to go home... but the thought of her face when she sees it is enough to make me get over my laziness.

"Hey, (Y/N)," I start, "do you mind if we take a little detour?"

"A detour?" she asks. "What kind of detour?"

"Oh, it's nothing special—just a cool little spot that I'd think you'd like," I say coyly.

"Oh yeah?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "Well, if Mr. Lazy doesn't mind going out of his way, then it must really be something special."

"You could say that," I agree, giving her one of my extended winks.

"Well then... let's go!" she exclaims. "My feet hurt, but I don't mind a little bit more walking—especially if it's with you."

"Alright then. It's settled—wait a sec. What was that last part?" I ask. I couldn't have heard her right. (Y/N) sighs quietly, and looks me straight in the eye. She's smiling, but there's a seriousness to her gaze that's... kind of unnerving.

"I said... 'especially if it's with you,'" she repeats slowly.

...Does she mean it in the way that I think she means it?

"Now... what were you saying about showing me something?" she asks.

No way. That can't be it—it's too good to be true. Nothin's ever gone right for me before. Why would this?

"...Sans?"

Does she... does she like me? Like... like like me?

I take a moment to think about it, searching for anything that I may have missed before, or written off as purely platonic. The first thing that comes to mind is all of the times that she let me hug her. Even a casual friend might find a hug awkward. But she never so much as complained about my clinginess. In fact... she always hugged me back, and she always seemed happier when she eventually pulled away. And then there was that one time that she let me hold her when she cried...

She always seems to be looking in my direction, and I've lost count of the number of times I've caught her with a blush on her face. For some reason, I'd always thought that it was because of embarrassment. But now... I'm not so sure that's all it is.

She's always there for me, and she's constantly worrying over me. She's spends an unusual amount of time hanging out with me, and seems to really enjoy my company. I don't even spend that much time with Grillby, and he's the person that I consider to be my best friend.

The thought of Grillby brings back memories of the first time I'd brought her to his little hole-in-the-wall. When Bun-Bun had latched onto me, (Y/N) had looked about ready to punch her. I'd thought that she was just being protective of me, but looking back on it... that actually looked a bit like jealousy. And later that day, when I accidentally let slip that I wanted to kiss her, she'd become a blushing mess. Why would she have done that if she didn't like me? She would've taken it as a joke.

Even today, there's been one example after another of her having feelings for me. When we were still at Grillby's, I told her that I would never miss one of her concerts. She turned as red as a tomato, and literally ran behind the piano to hide her face. All throughout the party, she's stuck by my side. She encouraged me when I needed encouraging, but backed off when she knew that's what I wanted.

And even if all of that isn't enough to convince me... there's one fact that completely seals the deal. (Y/N) had literally come back from the dead... for me.

"You don't remember. He... he killed you, (Y/N). I... I couldn't save you," I choked out.

"But you did save me," she murmured. "I heard you... and I held on for you. I'm not going to let you lose anyone else, Sans. I promise."

If that doesn't prove that she has feelings for me, I don't know what would. And if that's true... then I really am a clueless idiot. All along, it had been clear that she likes me. And yet I somehow managed to overlook all of that, and completely wrote off all the obvious signs. And if she had been that obvious about it... what exactly does that say about me? Oh geez—no wonder she was upset with me. It had been blaringly obvious that I liked her. I mean... the way I've been acting wasn't exactly... low-key. She knew all along and all this time, she's been waiting for me to outright tell her. I had opportunity after opportunity, and as I kept letting them pass by, she probably started to get frustrated, and...

"Sans!" (Y/N) exclaims. I'm in such a daze that her voice surprises me enough to make me jump. "Hey, are you sure everything's okay? You're really spacey all of a sudden—and that's usually my thing."

"Y-yeah," I say quickly, shaking my head to try and clear it. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Let me guess—you're thinking about nothing again?" she asks cheekily. "I know you're a skeleton and all, but I can't believe you're really that... empty-headed."

I blink, and stare at her in something akin to awe.

"Did you... just make a pun?" I ask. (Y/N) giggles at my slack expression, and mimics my signature extended wink. The sight of it almost makes my soul seize.

"I dunno... did I?"

"Oh my god, you did!" I exclaim. I smile so hard that my cheekbones hurt, and clap (Y/N)'s nearest shoulder. "I never thought I'd see the day... I'm so proud of you! Welcome to the dark side, Buttercup."

"Don't get used to it," she says, chuckling. "That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You're never going to hear me make another intentional pun. Ever."

"Oh, we'll see about that," I say, waggling my bone-brows. She stares at my forehead in fascination, completely mystified by the excessive movement.

"Y'know, I never got around to asking you—how do you do that?" she asks.

"Do what?" I ask innocently. Have I said that her curious face is really cute? No? Well, it's really cute.

"Make your forehead move like that," she elaborates. She reaches out and gently runs her hand along the place my eyebrows would be. Her touch sends a shiver down my spine, and sends my magic rushing to my face. "It feels pretty solid. It's just bone, right? So then how do you get it to make so many different expressions?"

I barely register her question. I'm too busy trying to keep myself under control—it takes all of my focus to keep from leaning into her touch. In fact, if it were up to my soul, I would probably start acting like Lesser Dog does after too many drinks. (In other words, I'd start begging her to pet me.)

"Sans?" (Y/N) asks.

"U-uh..." I stammer.

What were we talking about, again? Oh, right. The mysteries of skeletal biology.

"Magic," I manage. "That's really all I can tell you."

"That's your answer to everything," she complains, drawing her hand back. I sigh in relief as she breaks contact—I don't think I could've held back for much longer. This is getting to be ridiculous. She likes me, and I like her. Why am I still trying to hide it like this? "Oh, and I'm still confused about the whole stomach-in-my-closet thing."

"The stomach-in-my...?" I echo confusedly. "What're you... oh. Oh yeah—you're talking about that thing that Paps said weeks ago. You actually remembered that?"

"Of course! And it's been bugging me ever since. Where does food go after you eat it?" she asks. "And don't you dare just say 'magic.'"

"Curious, are we?" I ask, chuckling. "Alright, I'll tell you while we walk, okay?"

**(Discussion Skip)**

"...So you guys have magic stomachs that appear when you eat something, turn food into magic, and then disappear?" she asks me, completely flabbergasted.

"Yup."

"And they're... uh... detachable?"

"Yup."

"And so when Papyrus said that he keeps his in his closet..."

"He meant that literally," I say, confirming her unspoken suspicions.

"But... if he eats food in one place, how in the world does it end up in his closet!? I don't get it."

"Now that, I can't explain. So... magic."

"That is so weird," she says, pulling a face. "You do realize how little sense that makes, right? Like... it just... why?!"

"I dunno," I say. "I'm afraid that's one of the universe's mysteries—only someone on another plane of existence can give you the answer to that one."

"That's not really an answer," she says. "But anyway, where do you... uh... keep yours? I mean... if you don't mind me asking."

"Oh, I just keep it where it would normally go, and carry it around with me. Paps thinks that it gets in the way like that, but I personally think that it makes a pretty damn good travel pillow."

"...I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to that," she says slowly, a look of astonishment on her face. "But, uh... at least now I know why a certain skeleton I know manages to look tubby—he has a ghost gut."

"Yup. Wait. Did you just call me... tubby?" I ask, raising a logic-defying bone-brow.

"Maaaaaybe," she drawls.

"Hey! That's not very—"

I'm interrupted by a very well-aimed poke to the gut. I choke on my last word, and then end up emitting something that's half laugh and half undignified snort.

"Huh. So there really is something under there, after all," she teases, grinning mischievously at me.

"H-hey, w-wait a second—"

She pokes me again, and I instantly dissolve into uncontrollable laughter. A light dusting of pink spreads across the bridge of her nose at the sound of it.

"Sans, you're ticklish?!" she exclaims. "Oho—now I can finally get you back for all those times that you messed up my hair."

She wiggles her fingers theatrically in the air, and takes a slow step towards me. I'm quick to take a step away from her, my face burning at the mere thought of her touching me like that.

"U-uh," I stammer. "No?"

...Why did that sound like a question?!

(Y/N) giggles at my uncertainty, but nevertheless allows her hands to drop. She turns away, scanning the horizon.

"Alright, alright," she says. "Enough of that—are we getting close to this place you want to show me?"

I take an (annoyingly) shaky breath, and gratefully latch onto her proposed change of subject.

"Yeah. It shouldn't be too long now," I say. "Y'know, I could always just teleport us there, if you're tired."

"You heard Frisk—no magic," she says, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face.

"Oh come on, are you really going stick to the rules after all of this?"

"I don't really care about the rules," she admits. "I just... well... I like spending time with you."

She glances away as her face starts to turn red, and absentmindedly smoothes down her hair. I had wanted to say something... but all thought of what it was has completely vanished from my mind. I'm left just... staring at her, trying to process the meaning behind what she'd just said. I'm still not used to the idea that she actually likes me.

"...Oh."

That was a really stupid thing to say, but... well... that's all I could come up with. My face is still blue, and it's showing no signs of turning white any time soon—my soul is too busy trying to find its way out of my ribcage. The two of us fall into another companionable silence, and it may just be my imagination... but I think she's walking a lot closer to me than she was before.

I'm about to shrug the thought off—I'm probably just being hyper-aware of her, like always—but then... her hand brushes against mine. I instantly tense up, but somehow manage to keep from giving away any other sign that I noticed the contact.

My mind is screaming that I should pull away. This is dangerous, and there are so many ways it could end badly. I could have completely misread all of this. I could get too attached, and then something could happen that takes her away from me. Chara could make a reappearance. I could end up hurting someone else—maybe I end up hurting Paps' feelings by confiding in someone else, or the kid gets jealous of the attention her sister is giving me. There are just so many ways this could go wrong—so many variables that I have no control over.

But... I can't go on like this forever, either. All I have to do is think about her, and my soul ends up going crazy. Every moment that I'm with her, I have to keep myself in a careful state of restraint, just to ensure that I don't do anything stupid. Being just friends with her isn't really an option anymore. I don't think I could take it, feeling this way day in and day out, and never saying anything to her about it.

Suddenly, I remember something that Grillby told me.

"In this matter and others, you are simply too afraid of failure to take decisive action—I have seen it time and time again. You do not like to show your hand until you are absolutely positive that the cards are in your favor... and while I admit that strategy will keep you from making a bad bet, it also means that you will be sitting at that same table, immobilized, for as long as your uncertainties remain unresolved."

He's right. He's always been right. I'm stupidly cautious about things like this. But that's just the kind of person I am—I need to be sure that I'd be doing the right thing by confessing my feelings to her. However, that being said... I think I'm about ready to show her my hand. I've almost got a metaphorical royal flush. The only card I need is the elusive queen of hearts.

I glance down at the "queen's" hand. It's still gently brushing against my own, swishing back and forth in time to her footsteps.

Okay... here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to hold her hand. If she pulls away, I won't say anything to her, and I'll quietly die inside. Then I'll get over all of this stupid love nonsense, and get through life as an eternal bachelor. And if she does let me hold her hand... I'll tell her how I feel. Today. When we reach the castle overlook.

I watch her hand move back and forth a few more times, trying to gather my courage. It shouldn't be that hard. I've watched all my friends and family die. Now that was scary. After living through something like that, something as simple as holding (Y/N)'s hand really shouldn't be intimidating me this much.

After almost a full minute of staring at our barely-touching hands, I finally work up the nerve to do it. I take one final, deep breath... and then take her hand in my own. Wow... her skin is so soft... Just this minimal amount of contact is enough to make my soul go nuts. It's pulsating so hard that I swear I can hear my ribs cracking. And if I were to look at myself in a mirror, I'm pretty sure that my face would look like some kind of giant blue light bulb.

(Y/N) flinches when I make contact, and for a moment, I think she's about to pull away. But then she relaxes, and a happy-sounding sigh escapes from her. She moves a little bit closer to me and then readjusts our grip, intertwining her fingers with mine own. The feel of her skin against mine sends a flash of warmth through me, and for a moment, I feel as if everything is right with the world.

There it is—I have my queen of hearts. Now all that's left... is to finally show her my hand.

Your Perspective

All of your hard work has finally paid off. You've been dropping hints left and right since your outburst earlier, and it seems Sans has finally gotten the message. You smile down at your joined hands, the significance of the gesture making your cheeks hot. Finally, after all this time, he's making a move on you. Now, all that's left is for him to tell you, point-blank, how he feels. (Your more pessimistic side thinks that it might be a while before that happens, though—if it took you three weeks to get to this point, it'll probably take another three to entice him into taking the next step.)

But that doesn't matter right now. All that matters... is that you made it. You extended the olive branch, and you finally got him to take it. The feel of his phalanges intertwined with your fingers is just so... right, somehow. You would have thought that holding a skeleton's hand would be uncomfortable, but that doesn't seem to be the case. His bone is smooth and warm against your skin, and a thrill speeds through you as he absentmindedly runs his thumb along the back of your hand. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

This is perfect.

After a few more minutes of silently enjoying one another's company, Sans nervously clears his non-existent throat. You look over at him, to find that he's still stubbornly staring in the other direction. You can't help but smile at his blueberry cheekbones—he's so cute when he's flustered.

"W-we're uh... almost there," he mutters.

"Aww... already?" you whine playfully. Sans chuckles quietly, apparently starting to get over his nervousness. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and then turn to look ahead of you.

There's not really anything there that's interesting. Well, okay—there's a really old looking statue. But beyond that, the hallway is fairly uneventful. Just grey, and empty. However, if you strain your ears... you think you can hear the distant sound of splashing water.

"I hope you don't mind getting a little wet," Sans says, noticing your eyes widen.

"...What?"

***

You and Sans are walking through a relatively large cavern, rain cascading down on the two of you from above. Or, it would be, if Sans weren't holding an umbrella over the two of you. (He'd been kidding about getting wet, much to your relief.)

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you're trying to puzzle out how it could be raining Underground... but you aren't thinking about it too seriously. You're too occupied enjoying the feel of Sans' hand in your own. The lack of physics in the Underground seems unimportant, especially considering how close to Sans you are right now. The two of you are almost touching—it was the only way both of you could fit under the umbrella.

"So, is this what you wanted to show me?" you ask, looking around.

It's definitely a beautiful spot—the rain has pooled into several mirror-like puddles on the ground around you, and they reflect the Underground's 'stars' so perfectly that you almost appear to be walking through the cosmos themselves.

"Not quite," he says, turning to look at you. "It's even better than this."

"Oh really? It must really be something, to beat out walking on stars."

"You could say that," he says mysteriously.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what it is?"

"Nope," he says, breaking into a smile. "It's supposed to be a surprise."

"You and your surprises," you sigh dramatically. "You just love to keep me in suspense, don't you?"

"Yup. You're cute when you're curious," he says. Then he blushes and quickly looks away. "...Did I just say that out loud?"

"Yep," you affirm brightly. "You did."

Sans groans, and you're pretty sure that if he didn't have his hands full, he'd be trying to hide his face somehow. As it is, you're glad that he said it aloud—knowing that he thinks you're cute makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"A-anyway," he stammers. "I'm gonna need you to close your eyes, okay?"

You think your heart might've just skipped a beat.

"...What for?" you ask slowly.

"We're getting close, and like I said, I want this to be a surprise."

For some reason, that answer makes you a little bit disappointed. Nevertheless, you close your eyes without complaint.

"Fine. Just don't let me bump into anything," you grumble.

"Oh, of course not," Sans says. You can't see his face with your eyes closed (obviously), but you can almost hear the smile in his voice. "I would never."

He gently tugs you forward, and you promptly end up bumping into something relatively hard and warm. You open your eyes and glower at Sans, whom you're now pressed up against. You ignore your profusely blushing cheeks, and try your best to look annoyed... but it's hard to look annoyed when your heart is beating a mile a minute.

"Saaaaans!"

"Alright, alright," he says, fighting back laughter. "I won't let you bump into anything. Now close your eyes."

You close your eyes again, and allow him to lead you to whatever it is he wants to show you. He does a pretty good job of it, but it's not an exact science—there are a few times you get wet because you've come out from under the umbrella, and there are several times that you almost trip over loose stones. Eventually, you feel a sudden rush of air, and you shiver as the temperature drops a few degrees. The sound of raindrops fade into the distance as Sans keeps walking, and you can hear plastic flapping as he closes the umbrella. A few seconds later, he stops walking completely, and gently turns you to face something.

"You can open your eyes now," he says, his voice hushed.

You slowly open your eyes, and what you see before you literally takes your breath away.

The two of you are standing on a narrow path along the edge of a cliff, which drops off into the largest cavern you've ever seen. It extends as far as the eye can see, the distant horizon nothing more than a muddled sea of black. High above you, the star-like crystals of the Underground are brighter than ever. They bathe the cavern in a soft blue light, giving the view before you a mystical, dream-like appearance. ...And what a view it is.

A castle rises up out of the shadow that's cast on the rest of the Underground, its battlements and spires striking against the soft light of the ceiling stars. Around the base of the castle, you can barely make out the outlines of a collection of buildings. They sprawl out into a sea of grey, forming a city as big as any metropolis you would find on the surface. The vast scope of the Underground awes you, and you find yourself rendered speechless.

"Well... what d'you think?" Sans asks quietly. You glance over at him, struggling to find the words to explain how you're feeling. As you lapse into silence, Sans' smile wanes a little, and he seems to grow apprehensive.

"If you... if you don't like it, we could always..."

"No!" you exclaim. "No, it... it's beautiful, Sans! I've never seen anything so... wow. This is amazing."

Sans' smile instantly returns at your praise, along with that adorable magic-induced blue blush of his.

"Heh. I-uh... thought you would," he murmurs bashfully. "You're always looking at the stars in Snowdin, so I figured you'd like these even more."

He rubs the back of his skull and sits down, his feet dangling over the edge of the cliff. He pats the stone beside him, silently asking you to sit with him. You do, and you dangle your own feet over the side. The thought of falling gives you butterflies, but then you remind yourself that you have a magical skeleton beside you that's more than capable of catching you.

Said skeleton sighs contentedly and tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling stars high above. You join him in it, watching them sparkle in the darkness.

"Hey..." he says eventually. You glance over at him, to find that he still has his gaze trained on the stars above. He looks almost... wistful. "What are the real stars like?"

"The... real stars?" you echo uncertainly.

"Y'know... the ones on the surface."

This is the first time that Sans has ever asked you about the surface, in all the time you've known him. In fact, he almost seems to actively avoid the subject, to the point that he leaves the room whenever Papyrus is quizzing Frisk about it. So it comes as a surprise to you that he's bringing it up on his own, and especially at a time like this.

"Well..." you start, "the stars on the surface are generally white, for starters. Or yellow, and sometimes even orange. There's a lot more of them, too, and they're smaller than the stars down here. Think of it like... like taking a few handfuls of sugar, and throwing them into the sky. That's what they look like."

"...Sugar in the sky, huh?" he echoes thoughtfully. He closes his eyesockets, as if he's trying to picture it.

"And then there are sometimes stars that streak across the sky," you continue. "Well, they're technically meteors—but people call them 'shooting stars' anyway. We have this tradition on the surface that whenever you see a shooting star, you wish on them in hopes that it'll come true."

"You wish on shooting stars, huh?" Sans says. "I guess that's where our tradition came from. That's interesting—I'd always assumed we'd made it up."

"Monsters wish on stars, too?" you ask.

"Yeah. Well, not the real stars, obviously—but we wish on our ceiling stars in the futile hope that our dreams will someday come true," he tells you. There's something sad in his voice that you're not sure you understand.

"...What kind of things do monsters wish for?" you ask, thinking of Sans.

He looks over at you with a strange look on his face, as if he'd expected you to already know the answer. That expression just as quickly fades away, though, when he sees the genuine curiosity on your face.

"Well, most monsters generally wish for the same thing—for the barrier to be broken, so we can all go and live on the surface," he says.

You'd say that's a pretty good dream to have. There's something in Sans' tone, however, that makes a dream like that almost seem... silly. Like's he's purposefully demeaning it, for some reason.

"...But you don't?" you ask. "I mean... you don't want to live on the surface?"

Sans is silent for a moment. He has... a really sad look on his face—one that you wish you knew how to fix.

"...That's a dream I gave up on a long time ago," he mutters, his bone-brow furrowing. He falls silent, and you patiently wait for him to elaborate. As the silence begins to stretch, you decide to spur him on. (His dark expression is starting to worry you.)

"...Why?" you ask gently.

He sighs heavily and goes back to staring at the stars.

"It's just not realistic anymore, y'know?" he says heavily. "In all of the hundreds of timelines, the kid never managed to break the barrier."

"But you only need seven souls, right?" you point out. "Well, now you have eight. That's more than enough to break it."

"You don't understand," he sighs. "In order to break it, a single monster has to wield the seven humans souls. Using their combined determination, that monster could strengthen their own magic, and make their attacks strong enough to shatter the barrier."

"...I still don't see the problem," you say, confused.

"They would have to wield the souls, in the same way that you would an object, or a weapon," he explains. "And for them to do that... the soul would have to be completely separated from its body."

"Completely separated? You mean like when I take my soul out of my body?"

"No," Sans says. "If that were the case, we'd probably already be on the surface..."

Sans seems to be choosing his next words carefully.

"For a soul to be completely separated... its body has to cease to exist."

"So... in order to use a person's soul to break the barrier, you have to kill them first."

Sans flinches, and you think you saw shame briefly flash across his face.

"That's a blunt way of putting it, but... yeah."

"Oh."

What else is there for you to say?

"Now you see why breaking the barrier isn't really a possibility anymore," he says, his gaze shifting away from your own. "There are too many people out there that care about the two of you. There's not a single monster in the Underground that would so much as lay a finger on the kid, and as the kid's sister, you're protected by association. There's no monster out there that's willing to take either of your souls... even if it costs us our freedom."

...And with that, a crushing amount of guilt has been placed squarely on your shoulders.

I'm the last soul they need. If they had my soul, all of their hopes and dreams would finally come true... but because I'm alive, they're all going to be stuck down here forever. Is it really fair to them if I keep on living? Maybe I should—

"Look, Buttercup," Sans says, interrupting your thoughts. "I know you, and so I know what you're thinking right now. And so before you go and do anything stupid, I'm going to tell you this..."

He looks you in the eye with an almost scary amount of intensity, and his hand tightens in its place around your own.

"You wouldn't be doing any of us a favor by giving up your soul," he says, his voice unusually serious. "You have a lot of people that care about you, and I doubt any of them would encourage your suicide."

You think that's all he has to say, but then he adds on one final remark.

"...Someone might even think that a world without you... isn't worth living in."

He practically turns indigo at his words, and he quickly goes back to studying the stars again. A similar blush is making its way into your own cheeks. You know he likes you—that much is obvious—but to like you enough that he wouldn't be able to live without you? You hadn't really... expected that. You suddenly feel the urge to change the subject.

"So, if you don't care about living on the surface anymore... what is your wish?" you ask. "You do have one, right? Everyone wishes for something."

"My wish?" he echoes. He looks away, and takes his hand out of your own.

You're starting to think that you might've accidentally crossed a line. Sans taps his fingers on the ground, and he has an expression on his face that you can only call 'conflicted.' His irises shift back and forth, and it's not hard to imagine that he's having a heated internal debate right now. Eventually, he seems to reach some sort of decision. He takes a deep, shaky, breath, and turns to face you.

"My wish... is to find a way to be happy; no matter the circumstances I happen to find myself in," he says finally. "You know how fickle the universe can be. It tends to make my life a living nightmare, so you can imagine that I'm not the kind of guy to go wishing for something I deem unrealistic."

You nod. Honestly, you'd expected him to say something like that. If you know one thing about Sans, it's that he tends to be cynical.

"But lately... I..." Sans continue, "I, well... the universe has actually decided to cut me a break. Things right now are... really good, y'know? We may not be on the surface but things are still really, really good for me."

Sans hesitates briefly, taking a moment to... is he twiddling his thumbs?

That's uh... unusual.

"Frisk didn't reset, Flowey doesn't have the souls, and Chara hasn't made an appearance," he continues. "And... above everything else... you fell down. Everything new that's happened this timeline, everything good... it happened because of you."

"All in all... I'm pretty happy with this timeline. Everything has somehow managed to go my way," he says quietly. "There's just one thing that could make this any better."

He swallows hard, and locks eyes with you.

"The one thing that could make me any happier is if you... if we..." he trails off. His hands ball into fists by his sides, and he seems to be trying to gather his courage.

"Is if you would..."

He grits his teeth.

"If you would maybe consider..."

He screws his eyes shut. Whatever it is he's trying to say, he almost seems to be going through physical pain trying to say it. Every bone in his body is tensed up to the breaking point, coiled up like a spring. You're instinctively bracing yourself for the moment that it lets loose. You don't have to wait long.

"Oh, to hell with it!" he suddenly yells, his eyes shooting open. "I love you, (Y/N)!"

His words resound through the cavern, his voice echoing across the entire Underground. You freeze, your mind in too much shock to properly process what he just said. If he said what your ears are telling you that he said, then... you'd better make sure.

"U-Uh..." you stammer, your voice a few octaves higher than normal. "C-come again?"

Sans runs one of his hands across his face, trying in vain to cover up his extremely bright, indigo-blue blush. He takes a deep breath, and slowly drops his hand. He studies your face, and seems to draw courage from whatever he sees there.

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

He... he actually said it.

Sans slowly reaches out to you. Instead of changing course, or doing something else like he always has before, his hand actually ends up reaching its original destination. His hand cups the side of your face, and his incredibly soft chalk-like thumb glides gently across you cheek.

"I love you. I've loved you... for a long time now, actually," he admits. "That's why I was acting so strange—I was afraid to tell you."

"I know," you murmur. You'd say more, but you're sill kinda in shock.

"But you don't know why," he says. His irises take in every tiny detail of your face, as if he's trying to imprint it into his memory. "You know what my past has been like, (Y/N). You know I'm not exactly... stable. You've seen how I act sometimes—I don't think I need to tell you that I have... unresolved issues."

"I know," you repeat.

Of course you know. His emotions are extremely volatile—it's something that he's demonstrated several times over. But that's one of the reasons that you love him. The intensity of his feelings is something that makes you feel secure—you know for a fact that he cares about you. He's not like Charlotte, and he's not like your parents. If he cares, which he does... he would never abandon you like they did.

"Things are good right now, but those bad timelines, those resets... they aren't just going to fade away. They're going to haunt me for the rest of my life," he murmurs. "The lingering fear that everything is going to be stolen from me again—the fear that I can lose you, the one good thing that happened to me—it's going to shadow me forever."

He takes a moment to move your hair out of your face, lovingly tucking it behind your ear. At the same time, his irises flicker and die, leaving his eyesockets completely dark. It... scares you.

"I'm terrified, (Y/N). I gave up caring about others for a reason—getting too close to anyone else is dangerous. If I care about someone, it'll just hurt more when they're eventually... inevitably... taken away from me. I'm extremely attached to you, (Y/N). I'm much closer than I should be, but I can't bear being any further away. I love you, and it's terrifying, (Y/N)."

Tears form at the corners of his eyesockets, but he completely ignores them. He's completely focused on you. You, and nothing else.

"If I lose you, (Y/N)... I... I don't know what I'd do with myself. You and my bro are the only two things in this world that I care about anymore. In Paps' case, I at least know that I can get him back. All it would take is a reset. But you... if I were to lose you, I don't know if a reset would change anything. This is the first time you've ever appeared, and I have no way of knowing if you ever would again. And even if you did, you wouldn't... you wouldn't even remember me. I could lose you so easily, (Y/N). And that simple fact, all the uncertainty behind your sudden entrance to this timeline... it terrifies me."

The tears forming in Sans' eyesockets slowly run down his cheekbones, leaving luminescent trails in their wake.

"Because if you were to disappear..." he croaks, his voice cracking, "I wouldn't hesitate to follow you."

You hate seeing him cry. You slowly reach out to him, and carefully start to wipe his tears away.

"I'm not going to disappear, Sans," you murmur. "I promise."

"...Don't," he whispers.

You draw back slightly, thinking you've done something wrong.

"Don't what?" you ask quietly.

"...Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I don't," you tell him.

"But—"

"This isn't one of those promises. Do you know why, Sans?"

He doesn't answer, but you think you see a flicker of white in those eyesockets of his.

"This is a promise I can keep, because... because I love you, too. I love you, even though I thought that I'd never love anyone again. The people that I love always end up stabbing me in the back, in one way or another. But even so, I love you, Sans. I love you, and I trust you with my life. I hate to see you hurt like this, and the last thing I want is to be the cause of it," you say, gently tracing his jaw line with your thumb.

"I know I would hurt you if I disappeared. And so, I will do anything—and I really do mean anything—to keep that from happening. I won't disappear, Sans. I can't promise that everything is going to be all hunky-dory, but when life decides that it wants to make us burn in hell... at least we'll have each other. As long as we support each other, we can overcome anything that life throws at us. I won't let anything hurt you again, Sans. I promise."

During your little speech, Sans went completely still. He's staring at you, but you can't tell what he's thinking—his face is completely slack. Then... he laughs. He laughs, and renewed tears slide down his face.

You can feel tears start to gather in your own eyes as you realize the meaning behind everything that just happened. The wait is finally over. He'd confessed to you. You try to blink your tears back, but it has the reverse effect of what you'd intended—the tears spill down your cheeks, hot against your skin.

"Hey," Sans murmurs, "don't cry."

"Look—look who's—talking," you hiccup. "You—you're practically—a fountain."

"At least mine are happy tears," he teases.

"Who—who said—that I—wasn't happy?!"

Sans chuckles gently and reaches out for you again, intending to wipe your tears away. It's a nice gesture, but all he really ends up doing is spreading water all over your face. Makes sense—he's a skeleton.

"...This isn't working very well, is it?" he asks you, a small smile on his face. Instead of risking another embarrassingly hiccup-y reply, you just shake your head.

Sans runs his thumb along your face until the both of you calm down, and your hiccups have faded into the occasional funny breath. However, he doesn't pull away. His irises are studying your face again, moving along its contours. You watch as he studies your jaw line, then your nose, your eyes, and finally... your lips.

Now that he's finally confessed to you, the desire in his eyes is perfectly clear to you. He's not trying to hide it anymore, and he's not making a secret of the fact that he wants to kiss you. You aren't entirely sure how that would work. (He doesn't even have lips!) But when he gently pulls you towards him, you don't resist. He's not the only one who wants this.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you close your eyes and lean forward, ready to close the distance between you...

"LOOK, FRISK! OUR PLAN IS WORKING PERFECTLY! ...THOUGH I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY (Y/N) IS TRYING TO EAT SANS' FACE. IS THAT A HUMAN THING?"

Your eyes shoot open, and you whirl around in the direction of the obnoxiously loud and reeeeaaallly badly timed voice. A certain cinnamon roll's skull is poking over top of an unusually large rock. As you watch, said cinnamon roll is tackled by a certain purple-and-blue missile, quickly followed by a certain yellow-scaled nerd.

You stare at them for a moment, struggling to understand what you're seeing. When you finally realize that they'd been following you from the start, your face goes from pink to tomato-red in seconds. You turn back to Sans... only to find that he's disappeared into the depths of his hoodie. The blue light that his face is emitting is so strong that the hood doesn't help him, though—you might even be able to see his face better from in there.

...They'd better have a good explanation for this.