Chel Maxfield writes stories about the quiet moments that break people open and the fragile magic that holds them together. A lifelong storyteller and artist, she explores themes of loss, transformation, and connection across both fantasy and contemporary worlds. When she’s not writing, she’s usually sketching, crocheting, or rewatching her favorite animated films. She lives in San Francisco with too many notebooks and not enough shelf space.
Sans had been forced to stop working his hot dog cart by the arrival of winter. As the first snows melted to slush people stopped going outdoors during the day, and it wasn’t profitable enough for the company to continue running his stand.
He’d secretly been grateful. He could use the extra time to catch up on sleep.
He was selfish.
Less than a week later Papyrus was in a panic about the decrease in household income. Sans had tried to tell him it was okay, they’d figure it out, but that had only drawn his brother’s ire.
Lazy.
They had talked about it a few times, and Sans had been looking around for another job as he could, but he hadn’t found anything yet. It was after the holidays, all of the seasonal work had dried up.
Papyrus had finally lost his patience.
He had dragged Sans out of bed early, barely giving him enough time to get dressed before locking him out.
“COME BACK WHEN YOU’VE FOUND A NEW JOB.”
Sans had been all over the city, filling out applications and hoping to hear back from someone.
Anyone.
He’d been busy.
He lost track of time.
Excuses.
He hadn’t meant to come home late.
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”
Sans kicked off his shoes in the entryway.
“i was lookin’ – looking for a new job, pap,” he explained softly.
Papyrus huffed, stepping in front of Sans to prevent him from getting further into the apartment.
Frustrated and tired, Sans glared up at his brother, only to see the orange tears in the corners of his eye sockets.
Guilt strangled his Soul.
He was such a shitty brother.
He was supposed to be back ten minutes ago. Papyrus must have been worried sick.
After all, with his low hp …
It wouldn’t take much.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL?”
Sans flinched as Papyrus’ voice broke on the last word, looking away.
There was a small pile of dust in the corner.
Strange, for how fastidious Pap was with the cleaning.
Sans closed his eye sockets with a soft sigh.
He didn’t have a good excuse. There was nothing he could say to explain this away. There was only the truth.
Papyrus would not like the truth.
“didn’t have my phone.”
Papyrus had always been fast. Agile. Even as a babybones he had been able to match Sans.
The only reason Sans could beat him was because he had better reaction time.
But between a couple hours of sleep and a day walking the city, he was slow.
Bright stars bloomed in his vision as his head hit the wall with a loud crack.
Far too slow.
Sans would have fallen as his senses came back, had Papyrus not been holding him up by one arm.
“BROTHER.”
His voice was calm, gentle, almost sweet, at odds with the way his hand tightened around Sans’ humerus.
“YOU KNOW YOU’RE TO HAVE YOUR PHONE WITH YOU AT ALL TIMES.”
Sans shrank away from Papyrus’ stern glare, wincing as his grip became painful.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU HAVE IT?”
“i-i-“ Papyrus’ grip tightened at Sans’ stuttering, cutting him off. He clenched his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain.
He couldn’t think of a way to deescalate the situation, and anything he said could set Papyrus off.
He closed his eyes, praying for a miracle.
“i … ” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. The dry click was deafening to his ears.
He took a deep breath, trying again.
“… i left it.”
Papyrus’ eyesockets darkened, and his grip on Sans’ arm tightened enough that Sans worried he’d crack the bone.
He fought the whimper that threatened, a lump in his throat.
“WHY.”
Sans struggled with himself. His instincts telling him to fight back, to run, warring with the knowledge that he needed to not struggle.
Struggling would make it worse.
Papyrus’ had flexed.
“i forgot it,” Sans yelped. He looked frantically down the hallway, toward his room. “i was in a rush this morning!”
Orange flushed across Papyrus’ cheekbones as he realized what Sans meant.
As he remembered rushing his brother out of the apartment, not giving him enough time to get everything.
“OH!” He dropped Sans, covering his mouth with both hands. “OH DEAR.”
Sans shuffled back a step, inching his way down the hall.
“WELL!” Papyrus said after a moment. “I SUPPOSE THAT WAS PARTIALLY MY FAULT. … WELL … NO MATTER! THE PAST IS IN THE PAST AND TO BE GREAT WE MUST LOOK FORWARD TO THE FUTURE!” Papyrus flashed a bright smile down at Sans, the entire incident forgiven and forgotten. Sans returned the smile, smaller and with caution.
“WITH THE FUTURE IN MIND … WERE YOU ABLE TO FIND WORK, SANS?”
Sans shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Papyrus, unable to meet his brother’s eyelights.
“not yet,” he was ashamed to admit. “i applied everywhere i could. even talked to the company that owns the hot dog stand. they sell hot cocoa for the holidays.”
Papyrus sighed, rubbing at his nasal bone in frustration.
“THAT’S ALRIGHT, BROTHER. MY EXPECTATIONS WERE OBVIOUSLY TOO HIGH! I WAS HOLDING YOU TO MY OWN GREAT STANDARDS!” he laughed loudly, hands on his hips. “I NEVER SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED A LAZYBONES LIKE YOU TO FIND GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT IN A SINGLE DAY!”
Sans forced his smile wider, winking and pointing finger guns at Papyrus.
“got me there, bro. i’ll never be as cool as you.”
“EXACTLY! WE CANNOT ALL ACHIEVE THE SAME GREATNESS OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!”
Sans grinned at his brother, glad Papyrus had forgiven him so easily. For forgetting his phone, for coming home late, for not finding a job …
Paps was so cool.
“GO WASH UP FOR DINNER, SANS,” Papyrus said before heading into the kitchen. He opened the oven door and Sans was assaulted by the acrid smell of something burning. “IT’S NEARLY READY!”
“you got it, pap.”
It had been nearly two weeks since he and Red had exchanged numbers.
He had told Papyrus when he got home.
“WAIT FOR HIM TO TEXT FIRST,” Papyrus had suggested. “YOU DON’T WANT TO SEEM PATHETIC AND EAGER, AND I DON’T WANT YOU BOTHERING MY FRIENDS.”
Sans had waited.
And waited.
And w a i t e d .
He had held onto his fraying hope, patiently waiting for a call or a text. For something, some communication from Red.
Sans stared at his phone, lying on the mattress next to him.
By the end of the first week, Sans would’ve accepted a carrier pigeon.
But Red didn’t call. He didn’t text.
He didn’t send any pigeons.
Then, over their dinner of burnt mystery casserole, Papyrus had made a gentle suggestion.
“MAYBE RED WAS JUST BEING … NICE?”
And Sans felt the hope in his Soul fade under the weight of doubt and anxiety. He had explained his concern to Papyrus, but the other hadn’t had many words of comfort to share.
He flipped his phone open, saw no new messages, and closed it again.
He must have annoyed Red at the museum somehow.
But there were too many things to apologize for. He had done so many things wrong.
He’d talked too much, too obsessed with astronomy.
He’d focused on his own interests, not even asking Red what he wanted to do.
He had taken advantage, letting Red get him a ticket to the planetarium.
He was an idiot.
Sans frowned, as he opened his phone again, navigating to the text Red had sent him.
Red had traded numbers after all of that.
Why would he do that if he hadn’t meant it?
“text if ya wanna hang out.”
Why would he have said that if he hadn’t meant it.
“HE WAS PROBABLY AFRAID OF MAKING YOU ANGRY.”
Sans sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at his dark ceiling.
He wished he was brave enough to demand answers from Red.
The first outing could have been a prank, something Sans had accepted. Papyrus had warned him that Red’s sense of humor could be mean.
But …
There was no reason for him to ask again.
No reason to invite Sans to the museum.
If that had been part of the same prank …
… Red wasn’t that cruel.
Right?
Was Sans really so horrible that Red had decided to torment him?
“HE DOES JOKE ABOUT HIS STANDARDS BEING LOW, BUT … “
Sans sat up, playing with his phone idly as he thought.
Whether it was a prank or not didn’t matter. Maybe Red had been interested in getting to know him better after the coffee thing went well.
Well … he got what he asked for.
It was obvious when Sans thought about it. Red had just been too … nice to tell Sans that he wasn’t interested anymore.
Too nice to tell Sans the truth.
(To tell him that he was a stupid, worthless, lazy trash bag)
“… NOBODY HAS STANDARDS THAT LOW.”
Red had been trying to have a good time. Sans had ruined it by being ungrateful and selfish.
Once he’d gotten home, after giving Sans his number, Red would have had time to think out the day. He would have realized how shitty Sans had been. Maybe he had talked to Edge.
Maybe he’d talked to Papyrus. It would explain why he’d brought it up at dinner.
Maybe he didn’t tell anyone, ashamed to have even given Sans a chance.
Sans had been self-interested, self-centered, only caring about his own enjoyment.
He hadn’t even asked Red if he wanted to see anything else in the museum.
Sans resisted the urge to hurl his phone into the trash tornado, instead shoving it into his pocket. He didn’t need to break it further, it was already near-unusable.
It didn’t really matter. Nothing did.
The outcome had been decided and nothing could change it.
Red didn’t want to talk to him anymore.
He sighed, slumping against the wall.
Red probably regretted his decision to exchange numbers as soon as he sent a text to himself. Too late to take back.
He probably hoped Sans wouldn’t contact him.
Sans didn’t want to be annoying.
With a groan he rubbed at his eye sockets with the heels of his hands and focused on his breathing. Trying to calm down.
He didn’t want Papyrus to see he was upset. Didn’t want to bring his brother’s mood down like he always did.
If Papyrus was right – and he rarely wasn’t – then Red would text. If (when) he didn’t it was because he had more important things to do than entertain someone like Sans.
In all likelihood, he did have better things to do than talk to Sans.
In the end, Sans’ best option was to do … nothing.
Fortunately, that was the one thing he was good at.
Sans’ pun surprised Red and for a moment all he could do was stare at his alternate. After his earlier attempt had fallen flat he had assumed Sans shared his brother’s hatred of wordplay.
He was even more surprised when Sans let out a short bark of laughter, both at his own joke and at Red’s expression. He quickly covered his mouth and attempted to stifle himself, a blue-grey blush coloring his cheekbones.
Red found he liked the sound of Sans’ laughter.
It was genuine and warm, low and melodic.
… He wanted to hear it more.
Red looked away from Sans, ignoring the way his own cheeks warmed. He collected himself as he focused on folding the map.
He had hoped Sans would share his interest in astronomy. It wasn’t too much of a surprise – all the other Sanses had similar interests. But not liking astronomy wouldn’t be the first time Sans was an outlier.
But if Red was going to spend more time with Sans in an attempt to figure out why the Tale brothers didn’t get along … he might as well enjoy himself.
And Red could live in the Planetarium and not grow tired of it.
He led the way to the astronomy wing, glancing back to catch Sans’ reaction to seeing it for the first time.
It was everything Red had hoped for.
Sans’ eyelights lit up, blindingly bright, and his smile stretched wide. He seemed taller, like he was standing up straighter.
Like he wasn’t trying to make himself as small as possible.
He was all but vibrating with excitement.
“c’mon,” Red said with a grin, his own excitement rising in response to Sans, like a contact high. He jerked his head in the direction fo the planet models. “let’s start over there.”
Sans didn’t need more encouragement than that, and he quickly lost himself in reading the informational placards and looking at the displays.
“it’s too bad we don’t have a scale model of the solar system in ebbot,” Sans said softly after he had spent some time staring at the little Earth model and its moon.
“whaddya mean?” Red asked. “these are scale, ain’t they?”
Sans waved a hand, “they’re scaled for size, not distance. It’s still cool, seeing the sheer difference between earth and jupiter, but it’s hard to get a good sense of how far away jupiter is from earth, y’know?”
“i dunno if I’d be up to that much walkin’,” Red said with an exaggerated yawn. “space is … spacious. does that sorta thing even exist?”
Sans nodded, his attention on a sign about the asteroid belt.
“there’s a bunch walkable and drivable scale models, all over the world. the sagan planet walk in ithaca, one in vienna, another in melbourne. there’s one in munich called the planet walk. the biggest is in sweden – it spans the whole country.”
Red wondered, but didn’t ask, how Sans knew about those when he didn’t know the local museum had a planetarium.
Sans mumbled something too soft for Red to hear, but he didn’t push for the other to repeat himself. Instead he let Sans get lost in the informational placards and models again, while he went over to the planetarium to see what was showing.
The next show started soon, and was one of Red’s favorites. While it tread into science fiction rather than fact, it was still built on sound science. Its focus was on what life might look like if humans ever left Earth to become star-farers. Beginning with more-realistic colonization of the moon and Mars, ending with distant future marvels like Dyson spheres and ring worlds. It even dove into the concepts of wormholes and warp drives, and how they might be created.
It was aspirational. Inspiring.
Red bought two tickets and went to find Sans, who was more-or-less where he’d been left.
“hey,” Red said as he approached, causing Sans to jump. Red gave an apologetic smile and held up the tickets. “they got a show startin’ in ten minutes. wanna find some seats?”
“show?” Sans asked. He frowned at the tickets in Red’s hand, beginning to curl in on himself again. “i … i don’t have the g … ”
“don’t worry about it,” Red said with a shrug and a wave of his hand. “it’s on me.”
Sans raised a brow bone at him, eyelights dimming with uncertainty.
“y-you … you mean it?” He asked.
“ya don’t have to make a big deal about it,” Red answered, annoyance bleeding into his tone. Sans flinched, shrinking away.
Red sighed, his annoyance fading to worry.
“it’s fine,” he said. “i wanna see it, an’ boss’d dust me if i just … abandoned ya.”
Sans still looked uneasy so Red added, “seriously. don’t worry about it.”
“o … okay,” Sans answered, and he looked up to meet Red’s eyelights with a shaky smile. “thanks.”
Red only glanced at Sans once during the show.
He’d had them sit in the back, away from everyone else. Their glowing eyelights bothered the human guests, something that Red had dealt with before.
It turned out to be a good decision.
Sans’ eyelights were glued to the whirling cosmos above them, bigger and brighter than Red had ever seen them.
They didn’t rival Blue’s cyan stars, they dwarfedthem.
The smile on his face was euphoric and real. Open with wonder and awe.
Red knew that was the same smile he’d worn when he had first been in this room, watching a film similar to this. The same smile he’d worn that first night on the surface, after the sun had set and the stars came out.
He tried to ignore the feelings Sans’ smile raised in his Soul.
They spent the entire afternoon in the astronomy wing.
Sans went from exhibit to exhibit, reading every placard over and over again.
Like he was trying to encode every detail to memory.
“what’d ya like most?” Red asked as they passed through the gift shop on their way out of the museum. When Sans didn’t answer he glanced back, only to find him holding a NASA mug, eyelights hazy. “sans?”
Sans jumped, putting the mug back and smiling at Red.
“i liked everything,” he said as he caught up to Red. “actually seeing the difference in size between earth and the gas giants was … awesome. puts everything into perspective, how tiny our planet is in the universe. and the pictures? from the surfaces of the moon and mars? from the surface of venus?! it’s amazing what humans have been able to accomplish without magic or a functional understanding of quantum theory. imagine what they’ll be able to do once they start allowing monsters into scientific fields!
“and the moon rock! that little piece of grey basalt is extraterrestrial! and humans brought it here through explosions and mad science! they decided to go to the moon, built a rocket, went there, and brought back a rock. that’s insane!
“and the setup dedicated to what the first mars colonies might look like? so cool.
“and the planetarium show … i can’t begin to describe it. the models of potential exoplanets were fantastic, and the projections of how we might terraform a planet?” Sans sighed happily. “i could spend forever exploring every bit of that wing and never get bored.”
Red laughed in agreement.
“getcha talkin’ about this stuff and ya never shut up, do ya?” Red teased.
He had been enjoying Sans’ exuberance and excitement. He had meant the comment to be playful. He had been the same way the first time he’d come to the museum, spending the whole night ranting to Edge about everything he’d seen.
He expected Sans to blush that pretty blue grey color, maybe be a little embarrassed. Maybe comment something back.
He didn’t expect Sans to deflate. To look away, ashamed, as he crumpled back into his usual slouch. For the bright lights of his eyes to dim, and his grin to fall back into the stiff mask he usually wore, the joy gone like it had never been there.
“s-sorry,” Sans stuttered, voice soft. “i don’t … i didn’t … i’m sorry.”
Red was lost in the wake of Sans’ sudden emotional shift, and he kicked himself for causing it.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” Red said carefully. “i get the same way. space is cool, y’know? sorry.”
Sans shrugged and shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “it doesn’t matter, anyway.”
He turned away from Red, and Red let him. He waited as Sans collected himself.
He hid the pain he felt in his Soul when Sans finally turned around to face him, smiling mask in place.
Sans didn’t meet Red’s eyes.
“thanks … for inviting me,” he said. “i had a lot of fun.”
He glanced at the sky, awash in reds and pinks as the sun sank below the horizon.
“i should probably get back,” he said, more to himself than to Red. He looked back at the ground, grey-blue blush on his cheekbones. “i don’t wanna be a bother, after you brought me here, but … could i bum a ride home? i don’t have money for bus fare.”
“yeah, sure,” Red said, off balance from Sans’ mood swings. He offered his arm and pulled them both to the street outside the Tale brother’s apartment building as soon as Sans had grasped it.
Sans stepped back as soon as they were on the other side of the void.
“thanks,” he repeated as he turned to the building.
He took a single step forward, and then stopped. Red could see he was staring at one of the windows, could see his smile ticking away by fractions.
“hey,” Red said.
Sans let out a shuddering breath as he glanced back, eyes wide.
Red rubbed the back of his skull awkwardly as he looked away. “you, uh. ya got a phone, right?”
Sans frowned but nodded, turning fully as he dug it out of his pocket.
“we should exchange numbers,” Red said, the words coming out in a rush before he could regret them. “it’d make it easier to hang out.”
He watched as Sans’ expression did an emotional speed run. Confusion, anger, refusal, relief … acceptance. He held out his phone.
It was an old flip phone. Dumb, worn down, and well out of date. Between the scratches, the LCD burn, and a crack on the lower right that had killed a substantial number of pixels, the screen was nearly unreadable.
It looked a lot like the phone Red had used when they were still in the Underfell Underground, long since tossed for a nicer smartphone now that they were on the Surface.
He pushed aside his questions, although they bounced in his head like ping pong balls.
Why is Sans’ phone so … shit?
Doesn’t Papyrus have a fancy smart phone?
Red flipped through the options, sending himself a text message before handing the phone back to Sans.
“now we got each other’s numbers,” Red said with a lopsided grin, hoping it hid his uneasiness. “text if ya wanna hang out.”
Sans nodded, and the last thing Red said as he stepped through the void was his grin.
Wide and bright again, open and sincere.
The void closed in around him and Red was alone.
He collapsed in his bed, trying to quiet his racing thoughts and to ignore the feeling gnawing at his Soul.
He was no closer to understanding the rift between the Tale brothers.
—Sans—
Sans stared at the spot Red had been, conflicting emotions battling in his core.
He closed his eye sockets, focusing on his breathing to try to calm his confusion and anxiety.
He wanted to focus on the good parts of the day.
He looked up at the sky. The sun had finally set, but it was still too light to see all but the brightest stars.
He’d spent the entire day surrounded by the cosmos and their mystery.
He glanced at the phone in his hand, seeing the text message Red had sent himself. There wasn’t any content, just a single word.
hey
Red had given him his number.
Sans closed his phone and slid it into his pocket, smiling with relief.
He hadn’t fucked up.
Despite everything. Despite not having the money, despite not leaving the astronomy wing, despite talking too much …
The problem, Red decided, was that he was both too damn curious and too damn stubborn to ignore his curiosity.
It was going to get him killed someday.
It had been a week since he’d taken Sans to The Parlor, and he hadn’t been able to get the Tale skeleton out of his skull.
He didn’t really want to talk to Sans again. He didn’t have any objections to how the date had gone, but he still didn’t like Sans. Besides, he’d gone this long without interacting with his softer counterpart.
(He tried to tell himself that Sans probably wouldn’t notice or care that Red had ghosted him. Tried not to care that he didn’t know if it was true or not.)
But …
There was something about the Tale skeleton that bothered Red.
The disconnect between who Red thought Sans would be and the reality of the person he’d met, was driving him crazy.
He couldn’t square away the way Papyrus acted with the way Sans had been at the cafe.
It was possible Sans was manipulative. That the quiet, shy, polite skeleton he’d gotten coffee with didn’t exist. That it was an act, a facade.
But it had been so genuine. Genuine enough to not only fool Red, but the Judge as well.
Red couldn’t let it go. He had to know the truth or he’d drive himself insane.
Which is why he was here on his day off, standing in front of the Tale brothers’ apartment, trying to talk himself into/out of knocking on the door.
Goddamn his curiosity. He could only hope solving the riddle of the Tale skeletons would keep him alive.
“fuck it,” Red muttered as he finally knocked on the door.
All he needed to do was figure out how Sans had pissed off Papyrus. Once Red knew that he could go back to pretending the older brother didn’t exist.
“it ain’t cookie season so whatever you’re sellin’ we don’t need it,” Sans’ low rumble said as he opened the door. “religion, knives, vacuu- ”
He cut himself off as soon as he saw Red. A grey-blue blush crept onto his cheekbones as he mumbled, “uh … hey, red.”
Sans wasn’t wearing his hoodie, and he looked smaller without it – even wearing two shirts – a greying white tee over a black long sleeved top.
It didn’t help that he’d sort of … hunched in on himself when he saw Red.
The two stared at each other for a minute before canned laughter sounded on the TV, breaking the silence. Sans glanced into the apartment behind him.
“ … y-you want me to get papyrus?”
The question was enough to knock Red out of his analyzing stare.
“nah,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to look casual. “got a free afternoon. wondered if ya wanted to go to the museum with me. everybody else is busy.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Black and Mutt were both at work, and Blue was on a shopping trip with Stretch. Edge had a night shift, so he was sleeping.
And after one trip to the museum with Papyrus, where the latter had complained the entire time they were in the astronomy wing … well, Red had decided not to go to the museum with just them. It just didn’t make sense when they’d both be miserable.
Sans had straightened a little, perking up at the offer, before wilting again as he thought of something.
“… i’m kinda low on g,” he admitted with an embarrassed shrug.
“it’s on me,” Red said with a wave of his hand. “th’ boss got a membership after blue dragged us there for a third time.”
“i don’t think – ” Sans started, but Red cut him off before he could finish the thought.
“i can get ya in on a guest pass. won’t cost either of us anythin’.”
Sans didn’t respond immediately, expression indecisive and torn. Red felt his grin slip in annoyance. He hadn’t expected this much of a fight.
(What’s he afraid of?)
Red pushed the thought from his skull.
He already had one mystery. He didn’t need another.
“ … okay,” Sans said after a moment. He glanced back into the apartment. “… yeah. sure. just … lemme grab my hoodie.”
Red nodded, watching as Sans disappeared back into the house. He leaned against the wall next to the door while he waited, not wanting to enter the apartment when he wasn’t invited.
Not wanting to have to explain to Papyrus what he was doing there.
With his luck he’d admit everything. The Tale brothers might not get along, but Papyrus would certainly defend his brother if he knew what Red had done. Was doing.
He could hear a rushed conversation, words indistinct under the sound of Mettaton revving a chainsaw. He wondered if he had time for a smoke, and he fiddled with the lighter in his pocket.
He’d begun to rifle through his inventory, searching for his cigarettes, when Sans emerged from the apartment in a rush. He looked around, almost frantic, before he caught sight of Red and his expression brightened with … relief.
(Did he think I left without him?)
Red suppressed the shudder that threatened as guilt crawled up his spine.
Sans closed the door and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, taking up a casual slouch.
“so … how we gettin’ there?”
“its too far to walk,” Red said with an exaggerated wink. “but i know a shortcut.”
Sans snorted and held out an arm without taking his hand from his pocket. As soon as Red had a grip on Sans’ humerus, he pulled them through the void.
—Sans—
Going through the void was easier when he had warning. But it was never easy.
Sans stumbled out of it on the other side, pushing away the weakness that always came from teleportation. It was worse lately, causing headaches and nausea.
He hoped he hid it well enough from Red. He didn’t want a repeat of his episode from last time.
(Red already thought he was weird. Better to not prove him right.)
He focused on the building in front of him.
Sans stared up at the ornate, two story building, feeling uncomfortably small and out of place as Red led him to the admissions line.
(You don’t belong here.) A voice hissed in his head.
It was right, of course. It always was. He didn’t belong here, He wasn’t … worthy of it.
Sans was too small. Too insignificant and stupid.
He couldn’t really appreciate this place.
And then he noticed the humans.
They were everywhere.
Even after moving to the Surface, Sans wasn’t used to them.
Papyrus hadn’t thought it … wise for Sans to be around humans much. It’s why he had pushed so hard for Sans to take a night security job where he would be the only one on shift.
It was lonely, but Sans agreed that Papyrus was right. He usually was.
He was cool like that.
Besides, humans made Sans uncomfortable at best.
A child broke into laughter nearby, the sound shrill and sudden and too much. Sans flinched, bumping into Red as he tried to get as far from it as possible.
Before Red could disapprove Sans backed up, apologizing softly.
“so,” Red said after the laughter died off and Sans began to relax again. “what d’ya wanna see first?”
Sans shrugged, “wherever you wanna go is fine.”
He didn’t want to admit that he had never been here.
Papyrus had told him about the museum, having visited numerous times with the others. He’d talked excitedly about the aquarium and butterfly forest, and had been completely fascinated by the skeletons and fossils in the natural history wing, eerie as it was.
Everything he’d talked about sounded interesting, but nothing truly caught Sans’ attention.
One of the cashiers waved at them, cutting off any response Red might have had.
Sans stayed a step behind his companion, feeling out of place as Red flirted with the receptionist, dropping a cheesy pick up line and calling her “sweetheart.” She responded by rolling her eyes and calling him a flirt, calling him by name. She printed out the tickets and handed them to Red with an informational pamphlet.
Sans didn’t feel any more comfortable inside the museum. The entrance was huge, opened up to the roof, allowing natural light to brighten the space through the skylights. To one side was the gift shop, to the other a little cafe.
Red motioned toward the latter, silently leading Sans to an unoccupied table.
(Couldn’t even make a simple decision.Go home. This place isn’t for trash like you.)
Sans should have just … chosen somewhere to go. One of the places Papyrus had been excited about. The aquarium sounded nice, at least …
As he took the seat next to Red he was going to say as much, only to be stopped when Red unfolded the pamphlet to reveal a map.
“upstairs is th’ natural history wing,” Red said, pointing it out. “it’s mostly taxidermies an’ fossils, but the geology section rocks.”
Sans wasn’t sure if the pun was intentional or not, and he didn’t want to risk Red hating them as much as Papyrus did.
It was mostly Red’s grin that let Sans feel comfortable enough to give a soft chuckle at the joke. Like he knew exactly what he said and meant it.
Red slumped a little at his lackluster response, and Sans tried to hide his elation at that.
‘red likes puns,” he whispered silently, almost too afraid to even think the words.
Red shrugged, pointing out other spots on the map.
“downstairs is th’ aquarium, it’s small but pretty interestin’. makes me wonder how humans stand swimmin’ in th’ ocean, with all that goin’ on in it. on this level they got the entrance to the rain forest an’ botanical wing here, and the planetarium here.”
“planetarium?” Sans echoed softly.
Papyrus had never mentioned a planetarium. He’d talked about every animal in the aquarium, at length, but he’d never so much as hinted that the museum had anything about the stars.
Of course, space was Sans’ interest, not Papyrus’.
Papyrus didn’t mention it because he likely never visited it. He’d always found Sans’ obsession with space … strange. Before Frisk had fallen he had treated it like a childish fascination.
Like he was just waiting for Sans to grow out of his stupid fantasies.
“yeah,” Red said, pointing to an area of the map. “whole wing on physics and space, too. y’ didn’t know?”
Sans shook his head, staring at the word under Red’s sharp phalange.
“i’ve never been here,” he admitted softly. “nobody told me, and i … ”
‘never bothered to look at what exhibits the museum had.’
(Why bother when you’d never visit?)
“… didn’t think to look into it.”
Red frowned at him, and he worried that his tone betrayed his thoughts. He did his best to shrug off the concern in the other’s expression.
“i’ve never had the g to come,” Sans said with a wide smile, waving his hands like he could brush away Red’s unease. “it never seemed important.”
Red’s frown only deepened, and Sans decided to stop while he was ahead. He looked back at the map, trying to figure out what to say.
He stared at the word still under Red’s finger.
Planetarium
He didn’t want to impose. He didn’t want to drag Red to do the things he wanted to do.
But … he had to be realistic.
This was his only chance to explore the museum. He doubted Red would bring him a second time, and he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have the G to come on his own.
Between Papyrus’ school costs and all the other bills they had, Sans usually only had enough for bus fare if he needed it.
“can we start there?” he asked Red’s finger in a whisper, unwilling to meet the other’s eyelights.
(You’re asking for too much. Don’t be greedy.)
If there was only one thing he could see, he wanted it to be the planetarium. Everything else sounded cool – fascinating even – but he wouldn’t regret it if he never had the chance to see them. Not really.
Not like he’d regret knowing there was a section of the museum dedicated to the stars and never seeing it.
“yeah,” Red said, and Sans snapped his head up to see the other smiling at him with a toothy grin, almost as excited as he was. “it’s the best!”
‘red likes the stars.’
The thought was a hope, a tiny prayer to anyone listening. Sans could barely believe it.
Red looked at Mutt over his beer, considering the question. It was rhetorical but …
“which one? got at least three, depending’ on how y’ look ’t us. an’ i’d argue black is ’s much my clone as you are.”
“the one most like you,” Stretch said, stopping the impending argument in its tracks. He wasn’t drunk enough for philosophy. “sans.”
“how th’ fuck am i like him?!”
“y’said yourself that black is as much your clone as mutt. blue, too. ya ain’t a papyrus, so … sans.”
Red grunted in acceptance, then shook his head. “‘course not. He’s an ass.”
“a’ight, so no smooching’, but waddabout a date?” Mutt pressed, leaning forward. Red rolled his eyelights, not deigning to respond.
Mutt’s grin was sharp as he leaned back with a shrug. “s’like i thought, y’ don’t have the guts.”
“an’ what do i get if i did go on a date wit’ ‘im? my pride’s worth more’n braggin’ rights for that.”
Mutt’s grin shrank as he considered.
“we could make it more fair,” he said after a moment. “raise the stakes.”
“what ya got in mind?” Stretch asked.
“friendly competition,” Mutt said as he raised his glass with a grin. “we drink. until we can’t anymore. loser is whoever bows out first.”
“an’ whoever loses has t’ hangout with Sans,” Stretch agreed with a nod. “the other two get to mock them until they do it.”
Red didn’t need to beat Stretch to win, he only needed to outdrink Mutt – who was already several drinks in.
He agreed.
He hadn’t realized how outmatched his alcohol tolerance was against the other two.
—Red+Edge—
He felt sick.
Red hadn’t moved after collapsing in bed after his “date” with Sans. His brain cycling through the interaction trying to find anything wrong with the other’s behaviour.
There was nothing.
Sans was … Shy. Soft-spoken. Polite.
If he was putting on a front to gain sympathy, it was very nearly working.
He kept going back to one thing, over and over again.
Whenever the topic shifted to Papyrus, Sans looked sad. His eyelights would shrink and he’d talk a little softer for a few sentences. He only had good things to say about his brother, how proud he was, how hard Pap worked.
“He’s good at it … He’s been working really hard to … Helping people is what he’s best at … I’m proud of him.”
It was … uncomfortably sincere.
The image of Sans in his head was someone cruel. Someone who hurt others and enjoyed it. Someone who got off on manipulating people, taking a sick joy in the other’s pain.
It was directly at odds with the Sans he had spent the afternoon with.
Guilt, marrow deep and all consuming, filled him.
Sans had been polite and kind. Attentive! … even when Red was not.
For all that he told himself that Sans had to be manipulating him somehow …
Sans certainly seemed to have been making an honest attempt to get to know Red better. He’d put more effort into the “date” than Red had, certainly.
Red cursed himself.
He should never have accepted the bet.
He should have accepted defeat. Let Stretch and Mutt mock him for a few weeks.
He should have done anything but what he had done.
The weight of his sins kept him pinned to his mattress and the guilt kept him awake.
He felt sick.
Edge had been worried when Red came home from getting coffee, distracted and upset. He’d assumed it was either the other’s LV or depression acting up. There was no telling when those would pop up and cause problems.
So when Red hadn’t come out of his bedroom for dinner, Edge understood.
But when Edge checked later, none of the leftovers had been eaten.
And now it seemed Red was going to sleep through breakfast.
That just wouldn’t do.
There was a brisk knock at Red’s door, followed by Edge entering without waiting for permission.
Red was laying on his stomach face buried in a pillow. He was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
Edge frowned down at his brother’s back, carefully keeping the concern from his expression or voice.
“WERE YOU PLANNING ON SPENDING ALL DAY IN BED?” Edge asked.
Red growled something that wasn’t quite words, muffled by the pillow. But otherwise he didn’t react.
Edge’s frown deepened and he sat next to Red.
“WHAT’S WRONG,” he asked, tone allowing no argument.
Red stilled, and Edge could almost hear him trying to think of a way out of the conversation.
Another misjudgment on Red’s tab: Edge would be worried if he just never left his room again.
He rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands.
Ashamed.
“ ‘m an idiot’n an asshole.”
“I AM AWARE,” Edge responded quickly, voice neutral. “THAT DOESN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION.”
Red sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this conversation.
Knowing how disgusted Edge was going to be when he learned what Red had done.
“i’m more’v an idiot when I’m drunk,” Red said. “makes me think bad ideas ‘re good ones.”
Edge waited patiently as Red gathered up more courage. Patience had always been the key to getting the elder brother to talk.
“OF COURSE YOU DID,” Edge said with a sigh. “EVEN IF MUTT DIDN’T CHEAT – WHICH HE LIKELY DID AND YOU ARE AN IDIOT FOR NOT NOTICING – BOTH OF THEM OBVIOUSLY HAVE MUCH HIGHER TOLERANCES THAN YOU. I DON’T BELIEVE I HAVE EVER SEEN MUTT SO MUCH AS TIPSY.
“I’M ALMOST AFRAID TO ASK BUT … WHAT DID YOU HAVE TO DO AS THE LOSER OF THIS BET?”
Red looked away, cheekbones beginning to grow red with shame.
Moment of truth.
“loser had t’ ask Sans out on a date,” he muttered. “that’s where i was yesterday.”
Edge stared at his brother in shock as the words fully sank in.
“THAT … IS A VERY CRUEL PRANK, BROTHER,” he said after a quiet moment. “EVEN FOR YOU.”
Red nodded in agreement, his shoulders hunching as the guilt of disappointing his brother settled on his already overburdened back.
“BUT … ”
Red startled, skull whipping up to meet Edge’s eyes. He hadn’t expected a ‘but’.
“WE DON’T KNOW WHAT CAUSED THE RIFT BETWEEN SANS AND PAPYRUS. THIS COULD BE AN OPPORTUNITY TO GAIN SOME PERSPECTIVE.”
Red considered it.
Of course he wondered what happened between the Tale brothers. Once it was obvious that they were the outliers, everyone did. If Red kept hanging out with Sans … they could exploit that for more information.
It’s what they would have done back home.
… But they weren’t in Underfell anymore.
Edge shrugged, expression uncertain.
“IT IS UP TO YOU, BROTHER,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet.
Red groaned, dramatic and pitiful, as he fell backward onto the bed. Edge’s non-verdict wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But he supposed he got himself in this mess.
He would have to get himself out.
“NOW, I MUST BE OFF TO WORK AND YOU SHOULD EAT SOMETHING AND TAKE A SHOWER. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU SLEPT IN YOUR DIRTY CLOTHES!” Edge offered a hand to help Red to his feet.
Red took his hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with a grunt. He kept himself from snarking back that he hadn’t slept in his clothes.
He hadn’t slept at all.
Edge didn’t need anything else to worry about.
“ARE YOU ALRIGHT,” Edge asked as they left Red’s room.
“yeah, boss,” Red answered, the answer leaving him as a sigh. “i will be.”
Sans leaned against his closed bedroom door, watching time tick by on his phone. Ready to go, in case Red actually showed up.
5:09
When Sans had told his brother about going out for coffee with Red, Papyrus had seemed to take it well. At least, once he understood that Sans hadn’t been bothering his friends.
“RED APPROACHED YOU?” Papyrus asked.
“yeah,” Sans said. “surprised me, too.”
But when he woke Sans up just before noon, he had been more upset than usual.
5:12
It had taken Sans a while to calm him down, get him to explain what he was upset about.
“I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU, BROTHER,” Papyrus said. “THAT RED MIGHT BE …PLAYING A CRUEL JOKE ON YOU.”
“you really think he’d do that?” Sans asked.
“RED HAS A … SHARP SENSE OF HUMOR,” Papyrus said with a frown. “ONE WHICH I FIND … CONFOUNDING.”
5:15
“DO NOT WORRY, BROTHER! I’M SURE YOU’RE RIGHT.”
5:21
“RED ISN’T THE SORT OF MONSTER TO PULL THAT SORT OF PRANK.”
5:28
Sans let his skull fall back against the door, allowing his cellphone to fall from his hand. It landed on the mattress with a soft thump.
He wondered if Papyrus had thought to make enough for him to eat dinner, too. Most of Sans’ paychecks went to the joint apartment fund. He didn’t have enough to go get takeout. Grillby would probably still let him carry a tab, but he’d opened his new place on the other side of Ebott. Too far for Sans to shortcut.
With a sigh, Sans pushed himself up, sliding into his easy smile and lazy slouch. Ready to admit that Papyrus was right.
It was just a cruel prank.
—Red—
5:32
Red stood outside the Tale brothers’ apartment, once again steeling his nerves.
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this.
But he was already half an hour late and the guilt was eating him. And the only ways to get out of this with his dignity attached were to either go through with it or tell Sans the truth.
And like hell was Red going to tell Sans the truth.
Red took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Shave-and-a-ha-
He jumped back, startled, when the door flew open before he finished knocking.
“RED!” Papyrus shouted, pulling the smaller skeleton into a tight hug that lifted him off the ground. “I HEAR YOU CAME TO TAKE MY LAZYBONES BROTHER ON A DATE!”
“uh, yeah,” Red said as he was placed back on the ground. He glanced into the apartment behind Papyrus as he regained his balance.
Sans was in the hallway entry, his expression pained for half a moment before it vanished under the facade of a cheery grin and friendly slouch.
“it’s not a date, papyrus,” Sans said as he walked to the door, carefully not looking at his brother.
“WELL! WHATEVER IT IS! I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD TIME, RED!” Papyrus said as he scooped Sans out of the apartment.
Sans turned to wave goodbye, but the door was already closed behind him. He shrugged and turned toward Red.
“hey, red,” he said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”
“sorry,” Red said, meeting Sans’ eyelights and hoping his guilt wasn’t obvious. “lost track of time.”
“it happens,” Sans said with another shrug.
Red was relieved. He had expected Sans to call him out on the clear lie. Even Papyrus would have seen through the flimsy excuse.
“so where we going?” Sans asked.
“i was thinkin’ the parlor?” Red suggested.
“cool,” Sans said. “we walking or – ”
He cut himself off as Red grabbed his humerus pulling him through space to land in the park across the street from the lounge cafe.
Sans stumbled as he left the void, tripping over the air.
“warn a guy next time,” he said, voice strained. His face was flushed a sickly grey color, and his eyelights were small, taking Red by surprise.
Being pulled through a shortcut unprepared wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t … that big of a deal. Even his absolute worst Red only suffered minor vertigo.
“y’ okay?” Red asked uncertainly.
“fine,” Sans said, although his voice shook. “just … need a minute.”
Red waited for Sans to catch his breath, the chalky grey fading back to bluish-white.
“sorry,” Sans said as he stood fully upright (as much as Sans ever stood “upright”) and flashed a smile at his counterpart. “i’m good now.”
Red nodded, then turned to lead the way to the cafe across the street.
The Parlor was co-owned by the two Swap Muffets – Underswap running it primarily during the day as a cafe, and Swapfell running it at night as a lounge. Red hadn’t been there much during the day – he wasn’t a fan of coffee – but it was a nice alternative to Grillby’s in the evenings.
Red held the door open for Sans, and the pair entered the cafe.
It was impressive how the dark color scheme – blacks and dark magentas with some lighter purples and whites – were inviting instead of oppressive. Red suspected it was because during the day the windows were all uncovered, letting the warmth and brightness of the sun into the cafe.
“know what y’want?” he asked as he stepped next to Sans, joining the short line.
Sans’ sockets were wide as he stared at the menu boards, eyelights dim and small.
Overwhelmed.
He shook his head and glanced nervously at Red.
“… i-i’ll just have whatever you’re gettin’,” he said with a dry swallow. Sans glanced around the restaurant. “uh … want me to get us a table?”
“sure,” Red said.
The less time actually spent together on this little outing, the better.
The pastries were plated and the drinks made quickly, and all too soon Red found himself sitting at a table with Sans.
The other had chosen the same table Red preferred; the one in a corner so he could have his back to the wall and his blindspots covered. A good view of the entire dining room, particularly the front door. Near the rear exit, in case someone entered that he didn’t like the look of.
He wondered why Sans had chosen this table, but figured it was probably random.
Sans held his drink, holding it in his hands and letting the warmth sink into his fingers.
“s-so … edge?” Sans said after a moment, breaking the silence. Red sat up straighter at the mention of his brother, alert and uneasy at the shift in conversation. Sans wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, instead staring blankly at the café dining room, watching the other monsters and few humans. “he’s working in a kitchen, right?”
Red blinked, taken off guard by the innocent question.
“yeah,” he said with a nod and a sharp smile. At least the topic was enjoyable. “he’s a junior chef, doin’ a bit of everythin’.”
“he looking for anything specific?” Sans asked, turning his attention back to the mug of coffee in his hands.
“nah,” Red said as he took a sip of his own. “just wants experience right now. he likes how busy the kitchen keeps ‘im.”
Sans hummed in acknowledgement before taking a careful sip of his drink.
“i’m surprised he didn’t go for police work like undyne and alpha. he was a royal guard, right?”
Red frowned at the question, and Sans backtracked before he could answer.
“i-i mean … uh … what about you? any aspirations beyond the excitement bagging groceries?”
“not really,” Red answered with a shrug, letting the unanswered question go. He didn’t really want to talk about Edge’s time in the guard, or his time as a sentry. Or about the Underground at all, really. Not with Sans. “anythin’ i’d enjoy takes too much work t’ get inta. ‘sides i wouldn’t get t’ see the boss as often. he’d miss me.”
A shadow passed over Sans’ face at the remark, there and gone before Red could fully read it.
“paps ’s doin’ public safety work, right?” Red asked after a quiet moment. “workin’ toward doin’ social work?”
“yeah,” Sans said. “he’s good at it. at helping people. i’m proud of him.”
Red nodded, although he was surprised to hear Sans say anything positive about his brother. He’d expected something different.
“how about you?” he asked.
Sans shrugged and took a bite of his pastry, swallowing before answering.
“paps is cool enough for both of us,” he said, although the enthusiasm in his voice didn’t quite reach his expression. “i’m good with my current gigs.”
“ ‘gigs’?” Red parroted with a frown. “i only knew about yer nightshift.”
“i work a couple other jobs,” Sans confirmed with a nod. “security’s the most stable, but I do odd jobs here’n’there. black’n’mutt bought hotdogs from me over the summer a couple times.”
Red snorted at the mental image of their most fastidious counterpart buying and eating a hot dog.
“ ’m surprised the tiny tyrant stooped to eatin’ a ‘dog,” he said with a chuckle.
“pretty sure he was trying to make sure i wasn’t poisoning them,” Sans said lightly, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. “i must’ve satisfied them. they only came by twice.”
Red’s smile faltered.
Sans was joking, but the joke hit a little too close to truth for comfort.
The Swapfell brothers were particularly skeptical and slow to trust.
Black was particularly cynical, distrusting of everyone and everything.
Most of all he was suspicious of Sans.
Sans took another sip of coffee, looking down at the shadow of his reflection in the liquid.
He asked another question. Something trivial and fairly impersonal. Something safe so if (when) it was asked back at him it would be easy to answer.
What do you like to do? What movies have you seen recently? How do you like the city?
An hour later and Sans had just finished saying something supportive and proud about Papyrus when Red’s phone chimed, startling them both.
“thought I turned that off,” Red muttered as he pulled the device from his pocket.
It was a text from Edge, asking when he’d be home.
“you done?” Sans asked as Red began to type out a reply. At Red’s confusion, Sans motioned toward the empty mugs and plates on the table. “you paid. i’ll bus.”
Red blinked at his counterpart before nodding. “yeah, ‘m done.”
Sans nodded and cleared the table while Red got up to wait outside.
Red gave Sans warning before shortcutting back to the Tale brothers’ doorstep. The other looked better when he stepped out of the void this time, mumbling a soft “thanks”.
Red turned to leave when Sans grabbed his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to meet his counterpart’s eyes, his own sockets dark. A warning growl rumbled low in his chest.
It vanished at Sans’ expression.
Sans’ eyelights were dim and wavering, and he looked away as soon as Red’s sockets were on him.
“th-thanks,” he said softly, cringing at the stutter. He took a deep breath before adding, “i had fun.”
“me too,” Red said, the rote response coming automatically. “maybe we could do it again sometime.”
“that’d be nice,” Sans agreed as he met Red’s eyelights with a soft, cautious smile. “t-talk to you later, then.”
“yeah,” Red said, already kicking himself mentally. He pulled his arm away from Sans hand and took a shortcut to his own front porch, a couple blocks away. He sighed as he opened the door, calling out to let Edge know he was home.
Red cursed every stars damned decision he had ever made that led to this point.
From fucking with Gaster’s machine to befriending the multiversal duplicates of he and his brother, every decision Red ever made had been a fucking mistake.
He had spent the entire night before trying to figure out a way out of the stupiddare.
Why had he even tried to outdrink the Swap Papyrii? All it got him was a hangover and being on the wrong side of the shittiest wager on the planet.
Red tried to convince himself that they’d forget about the bet soon. There was no need to actually go through with it … but he knew that wasn’t true. Edge had a mind like a steel trap, Red doubted the other Papyrii, Swaps or not, were any different.
Red might not have much, but he still had his pride.
He glanced back up at the door of Sans and Papyrus’ apartment.
Red liked Papyrus. The tall skeleton was a softer version of his own brother; kind-hearted, friendly, and optimistic to the point of naiveté. He was passionate and affectionate, full of boundless energy and warmth. Red had nothing bad to say about him.
He was what Edge should have been, would have been, had their universe not beaten the light out of him.
Red’s own counterpart, Sans, however … well it wasn’t that Red disliked Sans. He barely knew the Tale version of himself. Sans was distant and aloof, apparently uninterested in getting to know his alternates or the alternates of his brother. He hadn’t made any effort to get to know any of them. Even when the get togethers were at his own home, Sans avoided them.
If that was all, Red couldn’t care, figuring his alternate was just distrustful. He could understand that – at first he hadn’t wanted to get to know Black or Blue. But Sans and Papyrus … didn’t get along. When they were together they were tense, and if someone brought Sans up around Papyrus he would become upset.
Sans had obviously done something to cause the massive rift between the brothers, something so terrible Papyrus couldn’t forgive him. Something Sans would not or could not fix.
Red avoided Sans.
Everyone avoided Sans.
Red sighed, finally working up the courage to knock on the door.
Shave-and-a-haircut
The muffled sounds of someone getting up and shuffling footsteps getting closer helped Red relax some. He hadn’t wanted to explain his sudden interest to Papyrus. But he was always loud and exuberant, the opposite of what Red could hear through the door.
There were two knocks back (two-bits) before the door opened, revealing a rumpled Sans.
“hey red,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with a yawn. “papyrus isn’t here. want me to tell him you stopped by?”
“actually,” Red said as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. He looked away from Sans. “i wanted t’ talk t’you.”
“really?” Sans asked as he tensed, “you … did Paps put you up to this? ”
“no, no!” Red said quickly, before he blushed and looked away. “i’m jus’ … i’m curious about ya, that’s all.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Red was curious about Sans. He wondered what the other had done to cause such a rift between him and his brother. It was a mystery, one Red found important (if only so he wouldn’t repeat Sans’ mistakes).
He wasn’t curious about Sans, though. Red didn’t care to get to know the other.
Sans made Papyrus uncomfortable. Papyrus found his presence upsetting.
That was enough of a reason for Red to keep his distance.
“anyway, I was thinkin’ we could go out, get some coffee. Talk or somethin’,” Red continued, rocking on his heels nervously.
Sans didn’t respond immediately, his face neutral and impassive.
“oh, uh … s-sure,” he said, a beat too late. He pushed himself off the door frame, settling into an easy slouch. “You wanna go now, or – ?”
“tomorrow,” Red said, cutting off Sans’ question. “around five?”
It was late for coffee but Sans worked a night shift. Any earlier would be too early.
“I can do that,” Sans said, settling back on his heels. “where’d’you wanna meet up?”
“i’ll come pick ya up,” Red said. He hadn’t thought of a place to go, yet.
“ ‘kay,” Sans shrugged. “sounds like a date.”
His eyelights had brightened a little, Red noticed.
He was … excited?
“…right,” Red said, debating between arguing that it most certainly was not a date and not acknowledging the statement at all. Guilt coiled in his marrow. “see ya tomorrow.”
He turned on his heels and stepped into a shortcut, landing in his bedroom with a soft thump.
Stars damn it all.
—SANS—
Sans leaned against the closed door, processing what had just happened. Going over the entire interaction, looking for the trick, the lie.
Red came over to talk to Sans. Not Papyrus.
Their alternates didn’t come by their apartment anymore. Sans made them uncomfortable. He was too awkward and uneasy around them. He made the room feel tense and unwelcoming.
Red had come over to talk to Sans. About getting together for some coffee.
Red wanted to talk. To Sans.
He didn’t know what to think.
Deep in his Soul he felt a twinge of not-pain that almost made him cry out.
He stifled the urge, smothering his cry to a whimper.
Sans pushed off of the door, stepping through a shortcut and landing on his bare mattress with a soft whump. He shoved the twinge of feeling in his soul to the side, unwilling to entertain it for long.
He had to be rational about this.
There were two options – either Red was being sincere, or he was being a jackass.
Sans checked the time on his phone, noting it was still a couple hours before Papyrus got home. Long enough for him to have a nap.
Sans closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly. As his consciousness faded he let himself hope that Red wouldn’t stand him up tomorrow.
But as the end of the month neared, my soul lightened. By the time I left my housekeeping job on the thirty-first I felt like I was walking on air.
Halloween revelers were already on the streets as I slid my phone into my pocket and began my walk home. It was still early, and most seemed to be meeting up to go elsewhere in the city.
I passed girls with animal ears and guys with fake blood. Nothing particularly complex or impressive. Most seemed to be broke college kids putting in minimal effort. Just enough that they’d get cheap drinks at the bars and clubs around town.
Not that I blamed them. I’d do the same, if Apollo ever held similar promotions.
I glared at the still out-of-order elevator and headed up the stairs, prioritizing my mental to-do list.
I didn’t need to worry about trick-or-treaters at my apartment. While there were a couple kids int eh building they usually went to the suburbs. They got a better candy haul there than in the city,
“Hey Sans, I’m home!” I called out as I kicked off my shoes and put my bag down. I connected my phone to the speaker in my kitchen, turning on my Halloween mix to get into a spooky mood.
My Halloween tradition was simple: Spend the night watching family-oriented “spooky” movies with Abby’s kids. We’d done it for years.
It was one of my absolute favorite traditions. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
I hummed along to This Is Halloween as I pulled out the sofa bed and gathered all the blankets and pillows I owned.
“You’re home early,” Sans said behind me as I surveyed the couch, trying to visualize a fort.
“Need to get you a friggin’ bell,” I muttered without any heat. I’d mostly become accustomed tot he skeleton popping into existence whenever he wanted.
“I never work Halloween night,” I explained as I took down a photo to hang up a spare sheet. My goal was something like a tent, but it wasn’t working out quite as well as I had hoped. “It’s one of the few nights I make sure to take off every year. People get … weird on Halloween. Being out late is a bad idea.”
Fortunately my newest boss had easily granted the request.
It hadn’t hurt that I was willing to work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. New Year’s Eve, too, if he needed me.
The sheet wouldn’t stay up, slipping off the hook whenever I put any tension on it. I growled at it in frustration, as though that would make it stay put.
The song switched to an electro-swing cover of Spooky Scary Skeletons, and I froze.
I didn’t know how monsters felt about Halloween.
More importantly, I didn’t know how Sans felt about Halloween.
Or how the very real skeleton felt about songs referencing his … species? Race? … as being “spooky scary.”
Spooky scary skeletons
Send shivers down your spine
I glanced at Sans, uncertain what to expect.
He was staring at the speaker with a blank, dark eyed stare. Completely unreadable.
I dropped the sheet and fumbled my phone out of my pocket, attempting to stop the music.
“By the way,” I said in a transparent attempt to distract the skeleton from the … offensive? … song. “I forgot to warn you. My niece – and maybe Jamie, but probably not – is gonna be spending the night.”
I finally paused the music, cutting off the song mid-verse. I looked at Sans with an apologetic frown, feeling guilty for springing this on him at the last minute. “I completely forgot about it. To talk to you about it, I mean. I didn’t think about it. This is just … what I do every year.”
Sans shrugged, turning back to my mostly-unassembled couch fort. “That’s what this is for?”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod as I turned back to the mess of blankets. “I never remember how to put together a good fort. It usually ends up more of a pillow nest than anything else.”
I picked up the sheet again, reaching to try hanging it again, when a knock sounded at the door.
I glanced at my phone, “That’s probably my sister.”
Sans had vanished again by the time I opened the door and was nearly bowled over by forty pounds of tiny human.
“TRICK OR TREAT AUNT T!”
I recovered my balance quickly, sweeping my niece into a spinning hug.
“Trick or treat?” I asked, my tone playful. Already I felt lighter than I had in weeks. “Hmm … I choose … TRICK! OMNOMNOMNOM!”
I buried my face against the little girl’s stomach, playfully chomping at her and holding her tight.
“No! I’m not candy!” she squealed, squirming and wriggling in an attempt to get out of my arms. “Mama! Help!”
I glanced over at Abby, still in the doorway and watching us with a find smile.
“Help?” she asked, and I grinned widely when I saw the mischievous glint in her eyes. “I suppose I could.”
She took Chloe from my arms and held her gently before doing the exact same thing I had. The little girl erupted into screams and giggles again, gasping out a happy, “I’m not candy!”
I turned to Xander and James, talking in hushed stones in the doorway.
“Didn’t know you two were vampires. Since when do you need an invite to come in?” I asked.
James was first, arms wide in an offer of a hug. I accepted, returning the affection eagerly. Xander followed, holding a small pink backpack I assumed was for Chloe.
“Overnight bag?” I asked as I pulled away from James. Without waiting for an answer I motioned at the couch. “It can go over there.”
I held my hands behind my back to keep myself from ruffling my nephew’s carefully-styled hair. “You staying the night?”
“Nah,” James said, “Friend is having a party. Gonna crash there.”
“Sounds fun,” I said, before giving him a stern look. “Make good choices.”
“I already got that talk from mom and dad,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“And now you’ve heard it from your aunt as well,” I chuckled as I gave him a quick squeeze. “You’ve got a lot of people who care about you.”
I turned back to my sister and niece, finally taking in their costumes.
“Pirates?” I asked, surprised. Last month Chloe had been super excited to tell me she was going to be a fairy princess.
“Preschool politics,” Abby explained with a sigh. “Another girl in Clo’s class claimed princess rights.”
“Cassie,” Chloe spat, voice as spiteful as a four year old cold be. “She said she was gonna be a princess and none of the other girls could. Miss Tiana said she couldn’t do that, but she said her mommy said she could. Everybody else agreed, so I had to, too.”
I nodded along, completely lost. I vaguely knew Miss Tiana was Chloe’s teacher, but I knew nothing about her classmates. I had no idea how this Cassie girl was able to control the entire preschool class.
“So you decided to be a pirate?” I asked my niece.
“I’m a fairy pirate queen!” Chloe pronounced in an excited shout as she turned around to show me her back.
Sure enough she was wearing sparkly red wings with her pirate getup.
My heart melted.
She was adorable.
“You’re a queen!” I cried out, covering my mouth in mock horror. “Forgive my insolence, your majesty, I had not realized!”
I bowed deeply toward her, and she burst into giggles again.
“We should get going,” Abby said with a glance at her watch. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to ask your aunt, Clo?”
At the reminder Chloe turned to me, her eyes widening and her lips pouting.
She was far too good at that face,
“Aunt T! Come trick or treat with us! Please, please, pleeeeeeeeease!”
Even with Abby’s earlier warning, I had assumed my niece only wanted me along as an afterthought. Touched, I knelt down next to her, looking her in the eye.
“I don’t have a costume,” I said, waving at my clothes. “I won’t match.”
“Momma brought you a costume!” Chloe said brightly.
I whipped my attention to my sister, who raised her hands.
“No pressure,” she said. “Chloe has been insisting you come with us. It was her idea to find you a costume.”
I blinked in surprise, shocked the little girl had considered I would want a costume if I was going out.
Of course, Abby might have mentioned something, to prod her daughter along. She had a hard time disappointing the little girl,.
Not that I blamed her. I would give Chloe on the silver platter if I could.
I glanced at the sad blanket fort with a frown.
“Well … ” I said as I turned back to Chloe. She was staring at me with wide, pleading eyes that made my heart ache.
That’s cheating.
“If I go with you, we won’t have a blanket fort,” I said carefully. “I won’t have time to set it up. If you really want me to come with you, I will. It’s up to you. Do I go trick or treating with you, or do we have a cuddle fort to sleep in?”
Chloe bit her lip as she thought through the options. It was a big decision.
Abby waved at Xander, who pulled a plastic shopping bag from his laptop case. My costume, presumably.
“Trick or treat!” Chloe shouted after a moment of indecision. “Come trick or treat with us!”
“Alright,” I agreed with a nod.
Xander helped me to my feet and handed me the costume. I glanced inside the bag and felt a flood of relief. It would cover my arms and legs. I shot Abby a grateful smile as I looked back down to Chloe.
“I’ll go get dressed and let my friend know I’m leaving for a while. Then we can go, okay?”
She threw herself at me again with a scream of excitement.
I gave her a tight squeeze back.
“You’re coming with us?” James asked from the kitchen, where he’d been raiding my fridge.
“Of course,” I snorted. “I can’t say no to the pirate queen. Find anything good to eat?”
He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.
I laughed and headed to my room to change.
“Give me ten and I’ll be ready to go.”
The costume was easy to put on, and it fit me surprisingly well. It was still an off-the-rack outfit, though, and the material was thin. I ended up putting on an undershirt so I wouldn’t freeze.
It only looked a little weird.
“Hey Sans, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked after knocking on his door.
A brief pause and he opened the door, glancing down at my costume for half a second before meeting my eye.
“I’m going with Abby to trick or treat,” I said with an acknowledging wave at my costume. “Wanted to let you know and give you my cell in case you needed me.”
I held the device out to him but he didn’t take it, his eyelights darting toward the living room. I could hear Abby talking in hushed tones, probably reminding Chloe of the rules for the night.
“If you need me you can call or text Abby,” I said, pushing the phone toward him.
He shrugged, taking the phone from my hand and disappearing it into his hoodie pocket.
“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” I said. “Chloe is staying the night. We’ll be sleeping in the living room.”
I took a step back, intending to end the conversation there.
Sans stopped me.
“Can I use magic to … do somethin’?”
I blinked, trying to remember if I had ever said he couldn’t use magic. I thought I had been careful to not give him any commands.
Then I realized it was likely a “preset” command. One given to all monsters once they’d been collared.
Now that I thought about it, I vaguely remembered something like that coming up during the debates about Monster Rights.
Magic was disallowed unless specific permission was obtained.
The thought was heavy and sour at the back of my throat.
Everything I had read said magic was an important part of a monster’s identity. As unique and integral to their sense of self as style or fashion was to humans.
Forbidding it felt like forbidding … music. Art.
“Of course,” I said with a nod. “You know the rules: nothing permanent, nothing that causes damage.”
Sans rolled his eyelights at me, but his smile softened.
“Thanks.”
We went trick or treating in my mother’s neighborhood.
I knew Abby had chosen the particular suburb, at least partly, to rub her family in our mother’s face.
Mom had never accepted Chloe as her granddaughter. So whenever she had a chance Abby threw that in our mother’s face.
“Look at this adorable, perfect little girl you could have spoiled if you weren’t such a horrid bitch. But because you are a horrible human being, you only get to see her under my terms.”
It always worked.
I grinned as I walked Chloe up to the door, excited to see my mother’s face when she realized who was knocking.
Unfortunately, my mother didn’t answer her own door anymore.
Instead the rabbit woman was handing out candy this year.
With how quickly she opened the door, I suspected it was her only task for tonight,
“Trick or treat!” Chloe shouted in sing-song. She held out her treat bucket with a bright smile.
“Happy Halloween!” the rabbit woman said in response. Her voice was gentle and warm, but I could hear the sadness in it.
Sadness and exhaustion.
She knelt to let Chloe choose her own candy.
“Thank you!” Chloe said as she carefully chose one of the fun-sized candies (of course my mother would go cheap) and took a step back. She frowned, looking between the doorway, me, and the monstress.
“Umm,” she said, suddenly shy and uncertain, “This is my grammas house! Is she here? I wanna show her my costume!”
She said the last bit with a spin, the better to show how adorable she was.
The monster woman startled, looking down at Chloe before glancing at me. Recognition brightened her features as she remembered who I was.
She didn’t speak, which made me frown. Knowing my mother she likely wasn’t allowed to speak most of the time.
I glared into the dark house. If it was silence my mother wanted …
“You mind if I call for her?” I asked, signing as I spoke. The movements were awkward with the candy bucket on my arm, but I managed. “If you want to, you can use Hands. I understand it well enough.”
She looked at the bowl of candy in her hands before giving me an apologetic shrug. She stepped back, allowing me to cross the threshold of the house.
“Hey mom!” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth, “Your daughters are here to say Happy Halloween!”
I took a step back. Either she’d answer or not and I didn’t care much either way.
“Is everything okay?” Abby asked as she came up to the porch. “You’ve been up here a while.”
I nodded and knelt down next to Chloe.
“Clo wanted to see her grandma,” I explained. I wrapped my niece in a tight hug. “And I wanted to show off the cutest pirate queen in the whole wide world.”
Chloe giggled and Abby nodded. Something passed over her features as she looked at the monster woman, there and gone in an instant. She held her hand out to the woman.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Abby, her older daughter, although she probably doesn’t call me that.” She paused for a moment, and I could see her considering her next words. “Is my mother treating you alright?”
The woman looked between my sister’s hand and the candy bowl. I took the dish so she could take Abby’s hand.
Inside the house I heard someone shuffling around.
I guess my mother was going to acknowledge our existences tonight.
Wonderful.
The rabbit monster gave Abby a careful, curt nod in response before quickly pulling the candy bowl back. She looked behind her uneasily.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Abby said, her voice soft, “are you from Snowdin?”
The monstress jumped, head whipping around to meet Abby’s gaze. After a moment she nodded, blinking back tears that had suddenly appeared in her dark eyes.
Then my mother appeared, cutting off the nascent conversation.
I had to bite back my laughter at her appearance.
Over whatever nightwear she had on she was wearing a long flowing robe. Faux fur lined the edges.
She looked like the villain from a crime drama. The ‘grieving widow’ whose rich husband had suddenly died under ‘mysterious, tragic circumstances.’
She looked ridiculous.
“Theresa!” she gasped as she saw me. “What are you doing here?”
“What else?” I asked, voice flat. I lifted my treat bucket to her before motioning to Chloe and Abby beside me. “Trick or Treat.”
My mother spared Abby a single glance before giving her a dismissive “tsk.”
Then she saw Chloe,
“And what are you supposed to be,” she demanded.
She seemed unimpressed, possibly disgusted, by my niece’s costume. Which meant she was either blind or acting.
Although if I remembered my own childhood, my mother had never been a fan of “non-feminine” Halloween costumes on girls. I was some flavor of princess every year.
“I’m the fairy pirate queen,” Chloe announced, puffing out her chest. She wasn’t put off at all by my mother’s tone. “Momma and Aunt T and Daddy and Jamie are my pirate crew!
The line of my mother’s mouth flatted further at the mention of the rest of Abby’s family.
“I thought you might want to see your granddaughter in her Halloween costume,” Abby said, her voice holding a veiled threat.
Be nice.
“It’s a very nice costume,” my mother spat, words not matching her tone. “Although I suppose it would be, with a … parent like you.”
“Thank you,” Abby said, ignoring the insult. She glanced at her watch. “We need to keep going. It was … I hope you’re doing well, mother.”
She took Chloe’s hand, gently leading the little girl away from the porch and leaving me behind.
“Wait! I need a picture!” My mother called out, frantic, as she disappeared into her house.
I snorted before turning to the rabbit woman with a smile. “Thank you. Happy Halloween.”
“Happy Halloween,” she responded with a genuine grin that allowed her buck teeth to peek into existence. She glanced behind her before setting down eh bowl of candy.
“Thank you.” she signed.
“Of course. You still have my number?”
She nodded as she picked the candy bowl back up.
“Good. Call if you need anything. Or text, if you can get access to a cellphone.”
I stepped off the porch to catch up with Abby and Xander, not sparing another glance at the house even as my mother screamed at us to come back.
It probably would have worked better if she used Abby’s name.
Chloe lasted a lot longer than I thought she would.
Somehow she had more stamina in her four year old body than the adults with her.
Except for me. I could have gone all night if the kid wanted to.
But I knew I was an outlier.
As it was, by the time Abby called it quits Chloe was spent. She was getting piggyback rides between houses.
I was pretty sure she nodded off during them.
Abby had let us go as long as she could, but she and Xander had plans. They needed to get me home so they could go enjoy their anniversary.
The ride from the suburbs to my apartment was quiet. Abby and Xander were talking softly to one another, too quiet to make out. James had put his earbuds in before he’d even got into the van, and was busy on his phone.
Chloe had passed out as soon as she was buckled into her booster seat.
After texting Sans to let him know we were on our way back I leaned against the window. I watched as the lawns and picket fences faded into the concrete, steel, and glass of the city.
It was the first time I let myself slow down and think in … weeks.
It was nice.
Xander parked in the yellow “no parking” zone in front of my building and Chloe blinked herself awake. I unbuckled and hopped out of the van, turning to meet Abby’s hug.
“Thank you for coming with us,” she whispered into my ear. “You didn’t have to.”
“I had fun,” I said as we parted. I was about to thank her for the costume when James punched my arm.
I yelped, more out of surprise than pain. I frowned at him as I punched where he’d hit.
It hadn’t been hard, there wasn’t even a mark, but it had come as a surprise.
“Sorry,” he said with an apologetic wince. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Was just trying to get your attention.”
“Use your words,” I said with a laugh, too confused to be angry. “What do you need so badly you’d punch me?
“Sorry,” he repeated, turning red with embarrassment.
I sighed, and as I thought about it I realized it wasn’t too weird. Kid had earbuds in most of the time, and his friends probably did too. It’d be difficult to get their attention verbally.
A gentle pat or poke would have sufficed, but he was a teenage boy. Punches were more aggressive.
More “manly.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled at him, letting him know I wasn’t hurt or angry.
“Jamie,” I said as I put my hands on his shoulders. “You are an idiot and I love you. I hope you have fun at your party, If you need anything, give me a call. Doesn’t matter why or how late.”
He gave me a small nod, not quite meeting my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. If I need anything I’ll call.”
“Good,” I said. I took my hands off his shoulders and held out a fist.
He bumped it with his own as Chloe climbed out of the van to wrap her arms around his legs in a goodbye hug.
“You’re sure this is alright?” Abby asked me again.
I looked at her, confused by the concern.
“We do this every year, Abs,” I said, eyebrow raised. “It has always been great. I can handle the tiny terror for one night, and I’ll call if anything happens.”
I thought for a moment before adding, “If anything, this year is less of a problem. There’ll be another adult around to keep an eye on her.”
Not that Sans necessarily would, but it was an option.
I wondered if he even liked kids.
“Right,” Abyy said, her expression softening as I eased her worries. “We’ll be back to pick her up tomorrow. If we’re not, we’ll have James come get her. Four at the latest.”
“Sounds great,” I told her. It was tradition and I loved it. “I planned for this. My shift doesn’t start until five, and my commute’s only ten minutes. Even if you’re not back before I have to leave, Sans’ll be around.”
“We should have gotten you a roommate years ago,” Xander chuckled. I hadn’t noticed him get out of the van.
He walked by me to pick Chloe up and paste a big kiss on each of her cheeks.
“Goodnight princess! Have fun with Aunt T, and don’t be too much trouble.”
“G’night daddy!” She shouted, directly in his ear. “Bye momma!”
Xander glanced at me as he put her down, expression guilty.
Chloe had her second wind, which meant I was in for a long night.
Before I could say anything else she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the apartment building.
I half-turned back to wave to my sister.
“Bye Abby!” I called out with a chuckle. “Bye Xander! Have fun on your date!
I had expected to find the living room more-or-less how I had left it: Disorganized, with blankets and pillows everywhere.
So when I walked into my apartment and found a proper pillow fort, I was more than a little surprised.
Sans had … made a blanket fort for me.
Sans had made a blanket fort for me … and he was the fucking king of sleep overs.
It was awesome.
He’d built a support structure out of what looked like gigantic, almost cartoon-like, femurs. They pulsed with an inner light, and radiated with violet completely different from their white core. Glow-in-the-dark fluorescence, dim next to the fairy lights that he’d wrapped around them.
(Did I have fairy lights in the apartment before? Maybe I had them in the outside storage … )
That must have been why he had requested to use magic. He wanted to make this.
I looked down at my niece. Her eyes were wide, sparkling in the fairy light. She was dumbstruck.
I couldn’t blame her. I was, too.
I reached out to touch one of the support beam bones curious what it would feel like.
“I wouldn’t touch it,” Sans warned from behind me. I spun to find him in the kitchen, watching as we gaped at his handiwork. “There’s a reason I put ’em up away from the couch.”
Chloe made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a shriek as she threw herself at the skeleton.
He stumbled, nearly falling down as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Did-you-do-this?” she asked, speaking so quickly her words blurred together. Sans wobbled, struggling to keep his balance and looking distinctly uncomfortable with his predicament. “It’s-so-cool-and-so-pretty-and-I’ve-never-seen-anything-like-it!”
She took a deep breath and spun to look at the blanket fort again.
“Not even Robin has such cool forts! And they have the best forts! This is even better! I didn’t know there was a better!” she jumped up and down, arms waving in excitement, “Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!”
She spun back to look at him, her eager excitement fading to confusion.
“Who are you? Are you and Aunt T dating? Momma says that Aunt T – “
“Clo,” I said, cutting the little girl off. I tried to ignore how I’d enjoyed Sans’ being flustered by my nieces love. I would have gladly let her keep going, but she brought me into it.
I didn’t want to know what my sister said about my (lack of a) love life. Or my social life in general.
“You know the rules,” I said with a sigh. “What are you supposed to do before you touch someone?”
Chloe’s face fell, and she took a step away from Sans.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she looked at the floor, wringing her hands together. “I’m sorry for hugging you without asking first.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she was looking up at him, stars in her eyes. Guilt replaced with wonder.
“It’s just so cool! I got super excited! You made such an awesome fort! And I didn’t think to ask you because it’s so cool and I just – “
She struggled, unable to find the words to convey her emotions, letting out an over-stimulated shriek instead.
Sans let out a soft laugh.
“S’okay kiddo,” he said, smiling down at her. “Thanks.”
“Chloe, go get into your jammies,” I ordered gently, smiling at my niece. I leaned into the fort to grab her backpack. “I’ll mark us some popcorn, and we can go through your treats.”
“Kay!” she said, all smiles and sunshine.
She took her backpack and hugged it close to her chest before turning back to Sans with her brightest smile.
“Thank you, mister skeleton!”
Before either of us could react she was down the hall, slamming the bathroom door shut.
I snorted, smiling after her.
Then I turned to Sans with a frown.
“Not that I’m ungrateful,” I said as I waved at the palatial blanket fort. “But if I shouldn’t touch these, is Chloe gonna be safe around them?”
Sans nodded. “She’ll be fine. Kids don’t have enough bad karma to get hurt … “
I glanced at the bones again, uneasy.
“I don’t actually know if they’ll … work outside of an encounter,” Sans added after a minute.
“And now I’m more confused,” I admitted as I walked by him to get a bag of microwave popcorn from the pantry. “You’re saying Chloe won’t get hurt because she doesn’t have … bad karma?”
Sans nodded and I turned away from him to set the microwave.
“But I might get hurt because I do have bad karma.”
“More or less,” he said with a shrug. “Figured it was less likely you’d run into them than the kid. Any of my other constructs’d hurt both of you.”
I hadn’t really thought Sans would hurt a child. He hadn’t been an ideal housemate, or even a good houseguest, but he wasn’t malicious.
“Why,” I asked. “Why go through the trouble at all?”
“Wanted to,” he said as he pushed himself away from the counter, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “She seems like a good kid. Figured she deserved a pillow fort.”
“Well, you just volunteered yourself for pillow fort duty in the future,” I said with a snort. “This setup is really cool. I’m gonna need to get a picture of it for Abby.”
I opened the microwave as the popping slowed down.
I bounced the bag to coat the popcorn with the “real butter flavoring.” I was pretty sure the flavoring was not, in fact, “real butter.
But it was delicious, so I didn’t really care.
“You really made her night, thank you.”
I turned as I tore the bag open, holding it away from myself so I wouldn’t get a face full of steam.
Sans was already gone.
I shrugged, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl. I’d make sure to thank him again in the morning.
For now I had an adorable fairy pirate to take care of.
It took Chloe the entire run of Corpse Bride to sort out her bucket of candy. She struggled to put any in the “save” pile, putting most of her haul in an “eat immediately” mountain.
As I worked on getting the next movie to play she opened her first treat. I was glad I had chosen a bunch of films in advance.
“Up next: Casper! Then you gotta go brush your teeth,” I told her as I started the film.
Chloe nodded, and I was pretty sure we both knew she wasn’t going to brush her teeth tonight.
Abby probably knew, too.
But I had to at least pretend to be a responsible adult.
As the opening scene played I got up to rinse out the popcorn bowl. Chloe climbed further into the pillow fort, going all the way to the back. She sat cross-legged, candy bucket between her thighs, watching the movie as she ate a Rice Krispie Treat.
When I climbed in next to her she snuggled close to my side, moving the candy bucket between us.
“You can have one,” she whispered, like we were in a movie theater. “If you want.”
“That’s very generous of you, my queen,” I whispered back. “Thank you!”
I dug through the options before finding a fun-size packet of m&m’s. I opened it with a grin, taking out a single candy.
I popped the candy into my mouth and held the rest of the envelope out to Chloe, who looked at me, confused.
“You said I could eat one,” I said pointing to my mouth, “So I ate one.”
She frowned at me for a moment before she caught on to the joke. She pushed my hand back toward me, giggling. “It’s for you! You can have as much as you want!”
“As much as I want?” I repeated, looking at the bucket with an impish grin. “I’ll take you up on that!”
I lifted the bucket up to my face, loudly saying “OMNOMNOM” and play fighting Chloe as she giggled and tried to pull it back.
“Aunt T! No! Not all of it!” she squealed.
Pounding from my ceiling reminded me of the time. I winced and hushed my niece, handing her the bucket.
“Sorry Mr. Nguyen,” I whispered toward the ceiling as we both fought off the giggles. “My niece is just too adorable.”
I gently tickled Chloe’s sides, making her giggle softly. She cuddled into my side and we fell into silence as we watched the movie and ate candy together.
The Great Pet Debate continued all the way back to the apartment.
And then some.
I was sitting on the floor by the couch, sorting through a toolbox full of mismatched tools. Looking for the right cross-head screwdriver to replace Sans’ doorknob.
“I think we’ve narrowed it down,” I said, leaning back and counting off the rules on my fingers. “As long as the pet makes no mess, no noise, requires zero care, and is cheap or free to get, I’m fine with it.”
Sans snorted from his place on the couch. “That all?”
I considered the question. Trying to think of any loopholes in the rules that would let him bring home something terrible.
The image of a taxidermy eyesore sitting in the living room came to mind.
Like my life was some sort of dramedy on prime time TV.
“I can’t have once been alive. No dead things in the apartment. Unless we’re eating them.”
I pulled a screwdriver out of the box, comparing it to the screws at my side. Close, but I thought I had something closer. I set the screwdriver aside and kept looking.
“Except, y’know, you,” I teased.
“I resemble that remark,” Sans quipped back. I grinned, adding the interaction to my ‘success’ pile. Not quite a “fuck yeah” success, since he didn’t laugh, but it was close enough.
Like horseshoes and grenades, jokes got points based on proximity.
“Whatever this magical no-work pet is? I get to name it,” I added. I pulled out another screwdriver and tested the tip in the screw. Perfect fit. “Here’s the right screwdriver for the job. I’ll leave it on the coffee table.”
I glanced at my phone before standing, checking the time. Ninety more minutes before I needed to leave to get to my job.
I picked up the toolbox and took it out to the balcony storage, debating how to use the rest of my free time.
My first thought was taking care of some pending research on how to be a good “owner.” Draining and exhausting research that it left me feeling like shit, but important.
I slumped on the couch at Sans’ feet, planning on pulling out my laptop, when I finally noticed the book in his hands.
“Hey! That’s my old copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide,” I said, feeling the grin light up my face. “That’s one of my favorite trilogies! I’m pretty sure there’s five books total? Maybe six, but the last one was written by someone else.”
Sans looked at me over the top of the paperback, brow raised in curiosity.
“That’s double a usual trilogy.”
“Yep!” I agreed with a shrug. “How are you liking it?”
The monster shrugged as he turned his attention back to the story.
“S’alright.”
I realized I wouldn’t be getting much more out of him.
I went back to my previous task of figuring out what to spend my time on.
I got up to get the notepad I had been using to write his “hall pass” on.
“I don’t remember if I’ve told you,” I said as I made my way to the kitchen table. “Any books in the apartment are free to read.”
Sans relaxed and my chest tightened at the implications that subtle movement meant.
Reading had been my only escape from real life as a kid. It was … sacred. Something I would never take from someone else. The very idea was terrifying.
Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised that my fellow humans didn’t think the same.
I pushed the thought from my mind, turning my attention to the task of copying addresses from my phone to the list. I had managed to memorize nearly all of them with daily repetition.
Except for Solar’s, which kept giving me trouble. For some reason I wanted to write it as 2460 instead of 2604.
Annoyingly I did it again, even as I was thinking about it.
I spent my remaining time in a sort of waiting time fugue state. Chipping away at my “to do” list and constantly checking my phone.
I showered, since I hadn’t this morning, which led me to realize I was nearly out of long sleeved shirts. So I sorted laundry and started a load. Then I saw the dishes were piling up in the kitchen, so I washed some of those.
As it got closer and closer to the time I needed to leave an anxious knot began to grow in my stomach.
I didn’t want to deal with Jason, but it was almost guaranteed that he’d be on the same shift as me. The best I could hope for was that he’d leave me alone.
I wasn’t going to start anything with him.
I couldn’t sit still, fidgeting and pacing the apartment, looking for something to do.
Eventually I sighed, giving up on waiting and leaving early.
I hoped tonight would be better.
I checked the buttons on my polo again before I entered the warehouse.
I knew my manager’s response the night before had been sexist at best, but I wanted to be covered.
Just in case.
I resisted the urge to button the top of my work polo. The only thing that would accomplish would be strangling me.
I knew I should escalate the situation to HR, but I didn’t know how to contact them. I highly doubted they would do anything, anyway. “Human Resources” protected the company first, then the workers. Then contract workers like me.
I knew where I stood. I was a temp. Easy to fire.
Easy to replace.
Better to let the issue die as it was.
I clocked in, grabbed a scanner, and set off in search of the first item.
Thoughtless monotony, exactly what I wanted.
It was a surprise when I was paged only an hour into my shift. My internal debate between finding the next item first or not was decided for me when my scanner locked me out.
Which … was not a good sign.
Fortunately my manager wasn’t the woman from last night, but instead was Tony. A good guy who was too old for most of this shit, but needed to do something to pay rent. He waved me into his office, gesturing for me to close the door behind me.
“Please, sit,” he said, his voice low and tired.
I did as told, sitting on the edge of the seat.
Important Conversation Time With Boss was rarely a good thing.
Tony slumped in his chair on the other side of the cheap desk, heaving a heavy sigh.
I realized what was happening.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been fired, after all.
“Whose kid is he?” I asked before Tony could say a word.
He grimaced, looking away from me.
Unwilling to meet my eyes.
“I fought for you,” Tony said heavily, leaving my question unanswered. “Spent most of the damn day trying to get the higher ups to listen to reason. You’re one of our best workers.”
I had nothing to say to that, so I simply nodded an acknowledgement of the hollow praise.
“Jason is the son of the district manager,” he said, glaring at his hands.
I winced, inwardly cursing myself even though I didn’t think I’d actually done anything wrong.
“He went crying to mommy and … I don’t know what he told her, but it wasn’t good.”
Honestly, I assumed he told her the truth. If he left out his aggressive actions, the confrontation could be summed up fairly neatly: “I asked her out to dinner and she pulled a knife on me like a psycho.”
I didn’t say anything to defend myself.
“Why didn’t you report the incident last night when it happened?” Tony asked, his voice strained with emotion.
I tensed at the question, frowning. “I did. Immediately. Told … what’s-her-name and everything.” I desperately grasped for the woman’s name. Melissa? Megan? Mothra? (She did sort of act like a rampaging behemoth sometimes … ) I swallowed back the sour taste at the back of my throat. “She told me that I shouldn’t have been dressed so ‘provocatively’.” I finger quoted the word with disgust. “I didn’t know she hadn’t bothered to record my complaint.”
Tony’s expression filtered through the stages of grief all at once and out of order. Eventually he landed somewhere on angry acceptance.
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Fucking again, Melinda?” before turning his attention back to me.
“I can’t save your job, but could you tell me what Jason did to provoke you? Did you really pull a weapon on him?”
“Yep,” I said, words clipped as I thought about the incident. “He threatened me. Had me pinned against a wall and wasn’t letting me go when I asked him to. It wasn’t a misunderstanding, either,” I added as Tony raised an eyebrow. “I specifically told him to let me go. Used the exact words and everything.”
“And you were unable to get help from the floor managers?”
“Didn’t have a walkie or a way to signal for help,” I said. I sighed, looking at my hands. “I shouldn’t have pulled my box cutter on him, but I felt trapped. I didn’t have many other options outside of letting him assault me.”
Tony sighed again but made note of what I said. I hoped he would add it to some sort of file on Jason.
Maybe it would help the next girl he set his sight on.
“If you were my daughter I’d tell you t’hell with it. You made the right choice,” Tony said softly, and I jerked in surprise.
Of all the things I’d expected in this meeting, understanding hadn’t been one.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Doesn’t mean I can get your job back,” he said, defensive and clearly unhappy about it. “And being right doesn’t pay anything. But I don’t fault you for what happened, and if it were up to me it’d be Jason sitting across from me, not you.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, truly at a loss for words. It was … honestly one of the nicest things a manager had ever said to me.
Usually they were yelling at me for screwing up.
I knew, intellectually, I hadn’t done anything wrong. This termination was bullshit and probably illegal. I had a perfect record – Never late, never missed a shift without a call at least two hours before. I had one of the best pull rates on the night shift, and I didn’t spend my breaks getting high.
Aside from one day off a week I only took a single day off a year, on Halloween. It wasn’t even a major holiday.
Part of me was furious. I was being fired for defending myself against an asshole who shoved me against a wall to try to coerce me – force me – into dating him.
I was being punished when I was in the right, and it made no fucking sense.
But I didn’t “play well” with others.
It had only been a matter of time before I screwed up somehow.
“I’m sure you’ve got everything you need, but … if you need a reference, I’d gladly give you a good one.” Tony slid a business card over to me across the cheap laminate of the desk. He’d crossed out the work number and scrawled a new one above it.
I took the card, contemplating the significance that had.
“Thank you.”
I slipped it into my pocket.
It was … nice having someone on my side.
Even if he couldn’t do much to help me.
Bittersweet.
I sighed, overwhelmed with sudden bone-deep exhaustion. I didn’t have the energy to fight this battle. Metaphorical or otherwise.
I stood up and took off my badge, placing it on the desk between us. “I can stop by sometime tomorrow to return my spare polo and get my last check. Is there a good time to do that?”
“Any time after noon should be fine,” Tony said after a moment’s thought. He held up a hand as I started untucking my polo. “You can drop that one off then, too. It isn’t too urgent.”
I awkwardly crossed my arms, uncertain what to do with my hands. The shirt I had on under the polo was thin, so I was grateful to leave the thicker shirt on anyway.
“I’ll come by around noon, then. Thanks.”
I turned and left the small office, leaving the door open some.
I left the building without a word.
Throughout my commute home I expected anger to flare in my chest. I offered it kindling and fuel, thinking about the injustice of it all, the stupid office politics.
Of why this had to happen today, when I’d already missed my two other jobs. A day’s worth of wages, gone.
But it didn’t.
I stared blindly at the ads, swaying with the movement of the bus, thinking of other night jobs I could do.
I had a cushion of savings. Not three months worth, but enough. I wasn’t too concerned about the loss of income.
In all likelihood I’d have a replacement soon.
I was furious over the firing. Spiteful passion in my soul sparked and raged.
But I couldn’t feel it.
It flickered, light without heat.
I was exhausted.
Disappointed.
Frustrated.
But all I felt was numb.
What was one more former job on a ten page resume?
If anything, it was a surprise I’d held onto the job as long as I had.
Acceptance.
Grudging, resentful, and angry, but acceptance nonetheless.
I stood in front of my door, fist up and ready to knock when I remembered there was no need.
I had given Sans a key. He didn’t have my keys anymore, because he had his own.
I dug my keys out of my bag and unlocked my apartment, glancing around the entryway.
The light of the setting sun cast long shadows in the living room. The only lights were from the hallway.
It was quiet.
It was … empty.
I ignored the painful twinge in my chest. Ignored the pang of loneliness and isolation. It was stupid to get emotional about. Until a couple of weeks ago, this is what I came home to.
This was more than I came home to. I never left the lights on for myself.
It wasn’t worth getting upset over.
Slowly, deliberately, I untied my shoes, kicking them off as I headed into the kitchen for some food.
It wasn’t like Sans was avoiding me on purpose. He had no idea I’d be home early. I hadn’t known I’d be home early. In the less-than-a-month he’d known me I had never come home early.
It wasn’t a thing that happened.
He had no idea that I was usually holding on by my fingertips, one step away from unemployment at any given moment.
I made myself dinner, heating up what looked like the last of Abby’s leftovers. I would need to wash the containers to return.
I made a note that I would have to make more food tomorrow. Lasagna, probably. After Abby’s cooking I hoped Sans would be able to stomach mine.
I frowned at the thought of the skeleton monster.
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts with a huff.
I wouldn’t be good company right now anyway. What would I say?
“Hey, I got fired for bullshit, but it’s not that much of a surprise because this always happens and I … kinda fail like this constantly! Sorry you’re stuck with such a useless sack of shit!”
I sighed again, taking my dinner over to the couch and deciding I was done thinking for the night.
I shifted into autopilot as I ate, letting my mind go blank. Relying on muscle memory and habit to eat and clean up. I stumbled to my bedroom, calling out my routine salutation to Sans halfway down the hallway.
I pulled off my work polo, then flopped into bed. It was too much work to change out of the rest of my clothes.
It was still early, the sky still light although the sun had set. I could get something done.
I could read more about the laws regarding Monster Ownership, figure out ways to subvert them.
I had slept in.
I had only worked an hour of one job.
I closed my eyes, telling myself it would just be for a moment.
I don’t remember dreaming.
I was surprised to see Sans on the couch when I stumbled from the shower. I gave him a bleary wave as I started a pot of coffee for myself.
I was glad I’d gotten extra sleep last night, even if the circumstances sucked,
Today was going to be a long day.
“Why’re you up?” I slurred at the skeleton as I popped two slices of bread into the toaster.
Sans looked at me, brow raised.
Hadn’t I … ?
I hadn’t been explicit enough.
Dammit.
“You’re on the lease now,” I said. “You don’t need to come with me to work. Congratulations, it’s your day off. For as long as you want.”
His face flashed through expressions so quickly I couldn’t read most of them.
What I did see were confusion, suspicion, anger, fear … hope?
I looked away when the toaster popped, feeling like I’d been staring.
In my defense: His face was fascinating to watch.
“I told you I was dragging you around because you weren’t on the lease. Now you are,” I said with a shrug as I buttered my breakfast. “There’s no barrier to you staying here all day. It’s your home as much as mine.”
I took a bite of the toast, pointedly ignoring the crumb pile on the counter. That was Future Terra’s problem. She could clean it.
“We’ve already discussed blood rituals, cults, pets … I’m pretty sure we’re good as far as I’m concerned.”
I tried not to be put off by how Sans was staring at me, watching me like I was playing a prank on him. I turned away, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“I want you to be as free as possible. I don’t want to be a jailer or warden. I want you to do whatever you want to do.”
I sat on the floor by the coffee table, across from where Sans was reclining. He was still staring at me, sockets wide with disbelief. I took a sip of my coffee, grimacing at the taste. I’d never grown to like my coffee black, but I needed all the caffeine I could get.
“If you get bored staying home all the time … ” I stalled, biting my lip as I considered how to say what I wanted to. It felt like a topic that should be addressed with care.
I wasn’t very good at that.
“If you want to look into getting a job or finding something to do out of the house? I’ll help you figure that out.” I kept my eyes on my coffee mug, hoping he didn’t misunderstand. Hoping it didn’t sound like I was telling him to get a job.
I worked at least three jobs. They let me survive and maintain a small cushion.
I chose that for myself. I had made the choices that had led me here. I had chosen to bring Sans into my meager existence, coincidence or not.
I wasn’t going to force him to work.
I refused to use him for my gain.
“I won’t force you. You don’t have to,” I emphasized as I looked up at him. “But if you want to … just let me know.”
Sans stared at me until I broke the gaze, self conscious and uncomfortable.
I flinched when he got up off the couch, repressing the urge to apologize.
“Thanks,” he said as he walked by me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
And then he was down the hall.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when I heard his door latch click.
I was halfway out the door when I realized I hadn’t told Sans about the change of plans for tonight.
I glanced at my phone before rushing back into the apartment to write a quick note.
Won’t be back until late.
I’ll try not to wake you.
No promises.
– T
I left it with the hall pass on the counter. Hopefully Sans would see them both.
A quick double, triple check – phone, wallet, keys, shirts – and I ran out of the apartment.
I wanted to be early for my factory job to smooth things over with my foreman.
My foreman wasn’t happy with my absence the day before. He gave me a lecture about reliability and spent my entire shift glaring at me.
I did my best to ignore him and not let it get to me.
When I clocked out he grudgingly spat, “Good work today. Keep it up.”
I stretched as I left the building, deciding what to do next. My options were blowing off the warehouse for another day or dealing with it now. The site was out of my way and would be a hassle to get to.
But I didn’t want to carry the polos in my bag longer than necessary.
And I wanted my money.
The manager on duty was ready for me, and gave me my last paycheck without issue. Then he had security escort me out.
Guess Jason’s story had spread around, and I was considered a threat.
I am terrifying. All five feet and a hundred pounds of me.
I put the check in my wallet and headed to Solar’s where I ate in a rush. I was already running a little behind. I left with an apology to Grillby and a decent (although not great tip).
Then I sprinted to The Amber Lounge, getting there five minutes late.
The guy behind the bar laughed at my apology, promising me he wouldn’t tell. I appreciated it.
I worked at the bar occasionally when they had live shows.
The tips were excellent. People were happy, and happy people tipped well. It made for a nice atmosphere. Unfortunately I tended to either not care for or outright hate the music.
More than that I abhorred trying to shout over the music. It was nearly impossible, and my voice would be shot for days.
And I’d be deaf.
But … the tips would more than make up for missing … all my jobs yesterday.
My actual job was manning the coat check, but that came with a fair amount of downtime until after the show. So I offered to help the bar, passing along cocktail orders and opening bottles. Dispensing beer and water. Simple tasks that didn’t take a lot of knowledge.
I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the music was good. Enough that I noted the band’s name into my phone to look up later. I bounced along to the music as I worked, enjoying myself more than I thought I could.
Last call came an hour before the concert was over, and I helped clean up. Taking it upon myself to deal with the mundane, nonspecialized tasks so the bar staff wouldn’t have to. Sweeping, mopping, wiping down countertops, whatever I could find to help out.
I was handling the last coat check customer when one of the bartenders came over.
“Thanks for all your help,” she said as the guy walked away with his leather biker jacket. “Pretty sure helping clean up isn’t part of your contract. At least, it usually isn’t … Unless the boss has been contracting assholes.”
I shrugged as I cleaned up what little remained in the coat check area.
“Both, probably,” I said.
She was right that it wasn’t part of my job to help serve customers or to close out the bar. My only job was to handle the coat check.
But I wanted to help. I didn’t like sitting back and doing nothing while other people worked. It didn’t sit right with me.
And I hoped I might get a little more money for helping out, too. Although that wasn’t why I did.
It was the bartender who greeted me that suggested we pool our tips, and I readily agreed. I ended up taking home a little more than I would have otherwise.
I stayed with the bar staff until they locked up, planning my route home. It was late, after three in the morning. I was uneasy about walking home with my tips in my bag and in single-digit weather.
I shivered at the prospect.
The woman who had thanked me for helping offered me a ride home.
I didn’t want to accept.
I didn’t like owing people things. Especially when I wasn’t sure if I would see them again or not. I was wary of her holding something over me.
A small thing, sure, but it still had weight.
But I wasn’t stupid enough to walk home at three in the goddamn morning with nearly half a grand in my back pocket.
She dropped me off with a concerned expression, and I knew she was evaluating my walk home. Likely realizing how many sketchy blocks I would have traveled down.
Including the somewhat-sketchy block I lived on.
I got out of the car before she could throw sympathy at me, thanking her for the ride and jogging into the building.
As soon as I was inside I heard the car accelerate away.
I trudged up the stairs, each step draining away what little energy I still had.
Like the coffee had evaporated straight out of my system.
I don’t remember getting to my floor. Or unlocking my door or getting into bed.
When I woke up it was late for me, but still early by normal-human time.
Especially considering it was Sunday.
I was trying to find a replacement night job. Everywhere I’d called only had openings for a regular graveyard shift. Few wanted to take on a contract worker, either.
I lay back on my bed after another failed phone call, pondering the possibility of being in two places at once.
Sans was magic. Maybe he could duplicate me or something.
Drag an Alternate Universe version of me here. One that has her shit together and works a normal, 9-5, Monday to Friday job. Like a functional human.
… Hah. As if that could happen.
A knock at my bedroom door startled me awake, and I blinked blearily at it.
“One sec,” I said, loud enough that Sans could hear me, and I stumbled out of bed. My body was still hazy from sleep and I lurched across the room like I’d forgotten how to walk.
It was a passable imitation of a zombie.
I opened the door, expecting to see Sans.
Definitely not expecting Xander and James.
James quickly appraised me, looking me up and down.
“You look like shit,” he said after taking in my sleepless glory.
“James,” Xander warned in a stern tone.
The effect of which was ruined by me mumbling “You’re shit” and mussing the kid’s hair in an awkward pat.
I turned to Xander, had still on Jamie’s head. I stared at my brother-in-law, sleepily trying to figure out what the pair were doing in my doorway.
They were here to … help me with something?
Because I needed something moved in their …
“Truck. Thrift store. Fuck.” I glanced down at myself, still in my clothes from last night and not at all ready to move furniture. I probably smelled like the bar. “I completely forgot. Gimme … ten? Ten, and I’ll be ready to go.”
James shrugged, pulling his phone from his pocket and going to the living room. Xander looked at me with concern.
“You okay to go out, Tess? James wasn’t lying when he said you don’t look great.”
“I’m fine,” I said, dismissing his concern with a wave of my hand. “Just tired. Had a late night.”
Xander’s eyes widened in alarm as he glanced at the living room then back at me. He furrowed his brow, getting ready to lecture.
I rolled my eyes.
“I had a shift at Amber Lounge,” I said. “Concert. I was working coat check.”
He didn’t quite relax, but the tension shifted. Concern about my night job shifting to concern about my health.
“You sure you’re okay? James and I can deal with it on our own.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated with a shake of my head. “I have a couple things that I need to take care of and then we can go.”
Xander nodded, taking a step back into the hallway.
“Take your time,” he said as he turned toward the living room. “We’re not in a rush.”
I nodded and closed my door behind him, sighing as I reprioritized my to-do list for the day.
It took almost another hour to find a job to fill my empty slot. It had been a long time since my last job shuffle. A lot of my connections weren’t available anymore.
Some places don’t care when their janitorial staff come in. Ss long as the place is clean the next morning, they’re happy.
Lucky for me.
Xander and James were watching something when I finally made my way out into the kitchen. Or, Xander was watching something. James was on his phone, only kind of paying attention to the TV.
I pulled out the notepad and started writing down addresses, careful to double check them against my phone.
“Whatcha doing?” James asked.
He was behind me, looking at the paper over my shoulder. I jerked away from him, surprised, and he took a step back. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said as I grit my teeth and told myself to breathe. “It’s for Sans. It lets him go where he wants without me being around.”
“Is he gonna help us with the dresser?”
“We can ask, but I don’t know.” I said with a shrug. “I bought it on impulse, so it’s my thing to deal with. Besides, there’s not enough room in the truck for all four of us.”
“He could help us get it up the stairs.”
It was almost like my nephew wanted to do as little work as possible.
I sighed, but agreed that things might go smoother if Sans helped.
“I’ll ask. But I’m not going to force him.”
Sans answered my knock quickly, which I hoped meant I hadn’t woken him.
“Xander and James – if you remember them – are here to help me bring that ugly dresser home. Would you help us get it up the stairs?”
“Sure.”
I pulled out my phone to hand him along with the hall pass.
“I’ll call from Xander’s phone once we’re back. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”
Sans nodded, opening the door fully to take the phone.
“Sounds good,” he said.
“Great!” I said with a smile. “It’ll be a lot easier with your help.”
I turned and marched into the living room, arms in the air. “Let’s go! Wardrobe, Get!”
It was a nice day.
Jamie teased me mercilessly about the dresser, calling it a Pretty Princess Nightmare. He also offered to help me paint it, if only to protect the world from its gaudy horror.
Sans helped us get it up the three flights of stairs.
He was surprisingly strong for someone who had no muscle. With his help the dresser felt like it was half its weight.
We put the dresser on the balcony so I could paint it.
Which is when I realized I had forgotten to buy paint at the hardware store.
“Hey, Sans, next time we’re out we should stop at the store, get some paint,” I told the skeleton monster. “You can pick it out and everything.”
I wondered if I should add the store to his list, give him a chance to go look at paint swatches or something.
I would ask him later, once my family was gone.
It was nice having them here.
Xander and Jamie stayed for dinner. Xander ordered pizza, and we all ate until we were stuffed.
Xander implied that James had a girlfriend, but my nephew wouldn’t divulge anything about her.
“We’re just friends,” he said. “It’s not like that.”
I shrugged, “Well, if you do find someone, let me know. I’d love to meet them.”
They left after eating, leaving the remaining pizza with me. Which I was grateful for.
I went to bed early, calling out a goodnight to Sans. He had disappeared sometime during dinner. I was worried he felt uncomfortable around my family.
I hoped he wasn’t.
I changed into my pajamas, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
I had expected to find my landlady at the front desk. Her bright red perm a beacon in the building lobby.
Instead it was her dark haired daughter behind the desk. She had her head down, busy with something I couldn’t see.
“Moira!” I called as I walked over. I tried not to fidget too much with the sleeves of my shirt. Part of me wanted to bolt back upstairs, back into my bedroom, find something to cover my arms further. Arm warmers or fingerless gloves. I didn’t. “It’s been a while!”
The woman jumped, looking up to smile at me.
“Theresa Navarro!” she said with a wide grin. “It has been a while. How is your sister?”
“Doing great,” I said.
Moira was one of Abby’s friends. Her first client when she was a new lawyer, fresh out of law school.
Moira had married a real piece of work. He had cheated on her and when she called for divorce he flipped on her. Claiming she was abusive and neglectful toward their kids. Near the end of the proceedings, when she had sought out Abby, Moira had little left.
It was looking like she wasn’t going to even have visitation with her kids.
Abby had happened to learn about what was going on, and had offered Moira help. Moira hadn’t dared hope for more than weekend visitation. Her ex-husband was vindictive, rich, and had friends in the right places.
Abby was tenacious. She spent all her time on the case, eventually finding proof that the ex was abusive. Both to his former mistress and to the children.
Moira left court with full custody and generous child support.
Her ex left with supervised visitation. He’d even been forced to pay Moira’s legal fees.
Every year or two he dragged everyone back to court.
Every year or two Abby continued to win the case against him.
She had joked once that he kept her in business.
Moira held her phone out to me, flipping through photos too fast for me to see them.
“My Mizuki just had her eighth birthday! Can you believe it?”
She paused on a picture and I finally recognized the little girl int he photos. She had a big gap toothed smile and a plastic tiara.
“Little girl’s growing up,” Moira said with a sigh as she pulled her phone back. She stared at the image with a fond smile. “I’m in your sister’s debt.”
She stared at the picture on screen for a few more seconds before placing the device screen-down on the table in front of her. “Look at me, gushing about Mizuki when you’re a busy woman. What can I do for you?”
“I need to get him on my lease,” I said with a glance back at Sans.
The monster was standing behind me and to the left, looking bored and disinterested. He tensed when he saw my eye on him, then shifted into a scowl, rolling his shoulders forward.
Moira hummed in acknowledgement, opening her laptop.
“Never thought you would own a monster,” she admitted as the computer booted. Her tone was conversational and curious, enquiring without demanding explanation.
My chest tightened with self-accusatory anxiety, and I forced myself to remain calm.
“It’s a surprise for me, too,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. I shrugged and chuckled, ignoring the discomfort that settled in my gut.
“Well, I’m certain you have a good reason,” Moira said gently. She knew how uncomfortable I was. I hadn’t exactly hidden it.
Then she laughed.
“I’m glad you caught me instead of mom! She would have all sorts of questions. You’d have to listen to her ramble while she found the paperwork.” Moira rolled her eyes in affectionate exasperation. “She doesn’t trust computers. Still sends me the physical files once a week to digitize for her.”
“With how much she prints out I wouldn’t have guessed,” I admitted with a laugh.
I was convinced that the landlady was keeping the paper industry alive single handed. She printed handouts and notices for the entire building, occasionally daily. Whenever she deemed something important enough to share I’d find a new note pinned to my door. Or in my mailbox. Chain emails, inspiration quotes, quirky memes … I never quite knew what to expect.
She seemed to be quite comfortable with computers.
On the other hand, it had taken nearly six hours to transfer the lease into my name. I’d waited as she figured out where the preprinted paperwork was filed.
I had suggested printing new paperwork, since that would be easier, but she refused.
I was still a little salty about it. I had ended up missing a shift and losing a job because of it.
“There is a small fee for monsters, but I’ll waive that in honor of Mizuki’s birthday,” Moira said with a wink. She put her laptop on the counter so I could see the details. “You have plenty of room, and I assume he’s not dangerous. He is well … controlled, right?”
“He’s not a wild animal,” I said, gritting my teeth in an attempt to be polite. When she stared at me, waiting for an answer, I sighed. “Of course he’s not dangerous.”
I couldn’t blame her. The media was constantly demonizing monsters, making them out to be little more than beasts. A lot of people believed the propaganda and lies, even though the evidence wasn’t there to support it.
Since breaking the barrier no monster had harmed a human outside of self-defense. The opposite was not true.
“How much is the fee?” I asked getting the topic off of the mistreatment of monsters.
I didn’t want to get into that particular argument right now. Certainly not with Moira.
I also didn’t like the idea that I was getting something for free. Abby had helped Moira, not me. I felt like I was using my sister, and it felt like a scummy thing to do.
“One fifty per monster,” Moira said, and my conscience cleared. I could afford it but only barely. If Moira was willing to waive the fee, I wasn’t going to say no.
Moira sighed, “We had to put it in place after someone in another building had … well … Monster insurance is new and it’s still full of problems. The monster did massive amounts of damage – nearly burned the place down. We had to gut the entire unit, as well as the ones above and below. We’re lucky no one got hurt. We’re lucky we didn’t lose the building entirely.”
I stared at Moira, wide-eyed and wondering what the monster had done to cause that much damage.
“After that we found a good insurance company,” she continued. “The deposit goes to cleaning costs usually. If something happens it goes to paying our deductible. It’s just like any other security deposit.”
“Recurring?” I asked with a frown, already trying to figure out where I could find an extra hundred fifty dollars a month.
“No,” Moira said. “No. It’s more like a pet deposit. There will be no increase to your rent.”
I nodded, relaxing a little.
Moira switched from friendly conversation to customer service in a blink, leaving me behind.
“Let’s see … do you have his ID number handy?”
I scrambled to pull Sans’ paperwork from my bag, disoriented by the switch back to business. I stopped when he began saying the number instead. Slow and clear, enunciating it so she could type it in and he wouldn’t have to repeat it.
Moira verified the number as I watched, out of place.
“Your full name?”
“Sans,” he said in that same clear way. “S-A-N-S.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Sans,” Moira said with a bright smile. She held out her hand to him. “My name is Moira Edamura.”
Sans looked at her outstretched hand uncertainly, before cautiously taking it in his own.
“You too.”
She smiled as she pulled away, returning to the form on her laptop.
“Do you have a last name? A surname, family name, patronym, anything like that?”
“Nope,” Sans said with a shrug.
“Most monsters don’t, I’ve gathered,” Moira said. She tried clicking away from the box but the computer kept highlighting it in red. “Ugh, why can’t I leave it blank?”
“Put ‘the Skeleton,’ ” Sans suggested. “That should be enough to differentiate me from any other ‘Sanses’ out there.”
I blinked at him. His words had a bite to them, sarcastic and cynical.
Was ‘Sans’ a common name in the Underground or something? I wasn’t sure.
“Thank you!” Moira said, ignoring or ignorant of Sans’ change in tone.
The computer accepted the additional information and Moira turned to me. We went through my information, verifying that everything was correct. Simple to do even if I had to pull out my wallet to check my license number.
“And your emergency contacts,” Moira said as I put my bag back together. “They’re still Alexander Moore, Abigail Moore, and Karen Mi-”
“Take her off,” I said quickly, speaking over my mother’s surname. “It’s only Abby and Xander now.”
Moira frowned and I could see the conflict in her. She had known Xander for over a decade, Abby nearly as long. She was familiar with the dynamics in my family.
She was someone who believed family, for better or worse, was important. That they should stick together.
She wanted to pry, get me to explain why my mom was getting the boot. At the same time she wanted to respect my privacy.
“We got in a fight,” I explained with a sigh, half expecting a lecture. “It’s been a long time coming. I cut her off.”
Moira hummed and removed my mother from the paperwork. I almost didn’t hear her mutter.
“About time.”
I grinned.
“The last thing I need is both your signatures,” she said. I heard the laser printer in the office start up.
“By signing you are agreeing to not destroy the apartment,” she said to Sans. Then she turned to me as she continued, “And if Sans does destroy it you will be responsible for damages not covered by the insurance and deposit. It’s the same as any other security deposit and otherwise your lease is the same.”
“Sounds great,” I said with a nod. Moira got up and walked into the back office.
I turned to Sans.
“She’s the daughter of the landlady,” I explained. I didn’t know if he cared or not, but I felt less awkward. Filling silence with meaningless chatter. “Abby helped her get custody from an abusive ex.”
Sans didn’t respond, hands in pockets and eye sockets dark. With a sigh I turned back to the office, standing a little straighter when Moira came out of the back office.
I skimmed through the documents she handed me, making sure there weren’t any surprises. I didn’t expect any, but my sister was a lawyer.
I never signed anything without reading it first.
I scrawled my messy signature on the line and slid the pen and paper to Sans.
He “signed” his name in bold, almost childish block letters.
sans
He must have heard me snicker at it a little, or he saw my grin as he passed back the paperwork.
“My bro got the fancy writing genes,” he said with a shrug.
I pointed at the first letter. “I was actually laughing at the fact that you’re too lazy to capitalize your own name.”
Sans shrugged again, deeper this time, and winked at me.
“Bro got the capital letter genes, too.”
Again it seemed like he was joking. That it would be funny, if only I had more information.
Sans was confusing me, and I didn’t understand why. I wasn’t even certain it was him, or if I was still hypersensitive from this morning.
I sighed and pushed the thoughts away.
“Can I get a copy of this?” I asked as I flipped through the paperwork again.
“Of course! Email? or would you like it printed out?”
“Email,” I said. A physical copy would only serve to get lost in the paperwork vortex of my apartment. Better to have it digital and be able to find it.
“I’ll get that to you as soon as possible,” Moira said with a nod. She pulled out a sticky note and scribbled herself a note. “Anything else you need today?”
I thought for a moment, about to tell her there wasn’t, when …
“Actually, yeah,” I said. “What are the rules on what I can do with the apartment in terms of … customization?”
Moira looked at me, her expression guarded.
“What are you wanting to change?”
“Replacing some interior doorknobs,” I said. “Adding locks.”
“Oh!” Moira said with a relieved sigh.
What had she been expecting me to say?
“That’s completely fine,” she continued. “If you bring the old hardware to us we’ll deal with disposal. As for general customization, anything nonpermanent is allowed. As long as it’s easy to cover up or patch. We do ask that you limit painting to accent walls.”
I nodded even though I wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying near the end. I didn’t want to paint the walls anyway.
Too much work. Beige was fine.
“Awesome,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Of course!” Please tell your sister I say ‘hello,’ would you?” Moira asked as I pushed away from the counter.
“I will,” I said before I turned back to Sans.
“Solar’s?”
Lock and Key
I pulled the door open for Sans as I went through my mental “to do” list. I still had plenty of time before my last shift.
I could run one more important errand. At least.
“Hey,” I said as Sans passed me, stopping him. “I have another errand to run,” I said when he turned to look at me. “Could you order for me and hang out for a while?”
Sans’ expression went through a few emotions, before settling on a confused stare.
“I don’t think Apollo will give you any problems,” I said. “You shouldn’t need a pass. I’ll be back pretty quickly … an hour at most? Half that, more than likely.”
“Sure,” Sans shrugged and turned away from me. He tilted his head back a little, “Burger and fries?”
“Perfect,” I said with a nod. “I’ll be back soon.”
I waved and jogged down the street to the hardware store.
Once independent, it was now owned by a larger company while operating under its former name.
I glanced around as I entered, noticing the Halloween displays and decorations for sale.
I wandered over to glance through them, since I loved the holiday.
The general decor hadn’t changed much in the years since monsters became a reality. I knew some monsters were bothered by it.
Some felt hurt that there were only horrific, twisted versions of themselves.
Others didn’t care, or chalked it up to more human intolerance.
I wondered which camp Sans fell into.
I flinched barely repressing a yelp as one of the motion activated ghouls jumped at me. I glared at it as it laughed at me.
I fucking hated the motion activated nonsense.
I took the shock as a cue to get on with my errand. I pulled myself away from the Halloween decor and made my way to the aisle of doorknobs and locks.
It only took me a few minutes to find ones that more-or-less matched what was already in my apartment. Not identical, but close enough to not matter. I grabbed two, one for Sans’ room and one for the empty spare.
Then I looked for the key cutting machine.
It was near the front, a little offset across from the seasonal section. Within eyesight of the registers, but far enough that it wouldn’t drown out the cashiers.
I grumbled under my breath when I saw it needed an employee code to use, despite looking automated.
Of course I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own. That would be too easy.
I walked to the nearest manned cash register and got the attention of the bored-looking teenager behind it.
“I need a key cut?” I said, more question than statement.
“Sure,” he said, monotone and nasal. He sounded almost like he had the flu, and I took a step back. “Let me get my manager.”
“Thanks,” I said, in what I hoped was a friendly manner. I pointed back to the machine. “I’ll be over there.”
“Whatever,” he said.
He was definitely bored.
I looked through the cheap, plain key blanks until I found one that looked similar to my own. Then I made the mistake of looking at the more expensive blanks.
I went to the animal prints first, chuckling at the idea of a keybra or a keytah – although the latter was a leopard print. I briefly lamented the lack of any monkeys.
I snorted at the Mickey Mouse, which felt close to a good joke, but not near enough.
I wasn’t sure Sans knew who the famous mouse was, anyway. He hadn’t shown any recognition when I had mentioned Disney before.
My puns didn’t improve any as I continued on. All boiling down to replacing syllables with the word “key”.
It was starting to not sound like a real word in my head.
“You need a key cut?” A deep, rumbling bass asked behind me.
“Yeah!” I said as I turned quickly.
And found myself face to chest with a man who wrestled bears in his spare time.
I was dwarfed. He was over six feet tall and built like a truck. His arms were thicker than my calves, and his calves – while covered by a pair of blue jeans – were as thick as tree roots.
Middle aged, red and black flannel, a full beard that would put one of Tolkien’s dwarves to shame.
All he needed was an axe, a red toque, and a thermos of soup and he would have been a stereotypical lumberjack.
“Y-Yeah,” I stuttered as I held out my house key and the blank. “Just the one.”
The lumberjack took my house key and the blank before turning to start up the machine.
“This the blank you want to use?” he asked, attention on the machine as he fit my house key in.
“Ye-” I started, but stopped as something caught my eye.
I hadn’t seen the blank during my previous perusal, but it … it was perfect.
A molded skull.
“Hold on,” I said as I reached for the blank. I was already working on thinking up a joke to go with it. “Can I use this one instead?”
I had never cut my own keys. I knew there were different sizes and shapes for blanks, but I didn’t know how to tell them apart. Or how interchangeable they were.
He picked up the key and looked at it before nodding.
“Want two keys or just one?”
“Just one,” I said.
He grunted an acknowledgement, putting the plain blank away and setting the machine to cut the fancy one. I watched him work, frowning in frustration as I realized how much a waste of time the process was.
The most complex part of the operation was reading the clear directions on the touchscreen. I could have done this whole thing myself if I’d had access.
Of course, if I did it myself I wouldn’t be getting the best key ever since I wouldn’t have known if the blank was appropriate.
I glanced at the display again.
I wondered if I should get a keychain, too.
“Got a boyfriend, then?” The lumberjack asked as the machine started up, shrilly carving away at the metal. “Maybe a girlfriend?”
I blinked, pulled from my thoughts about key rings.
“New roommate,” I answered without really thinking. I looked up at him, confused. “Why?”
“When young ladies come in to get a key made it’s usually so they can give it to their partner,” he explained. He pointed at the machine. “You got an expensive key, so you care about whoever it is. Might be out of touch but I assumed that the badass keys are more popular with guys.”
I nodded, understanding and uncertain how best to respond. It made sense, but I hadn’t even looked at the key as badass.
I had chosen the skull because it was for a skeleton monster and I thought I was clever.
That wasn’t something I was going to say out loud.
The man nodded back and turned back to the cutter, watching as the process finished.
I chose a few keyring and carabiners, hoping one of them appealed to Sans.
“Here you go,” the mountain of a man said as he handed me my things. I juggled them to slip my keys into my bag.
The newly cut key was warm, and I slid it into my pocket.
“Have the cashier scan this receipt for that cut key, and you’re good to go.”
“Thank you,” I said as I took the slip of paper.
“Of course,” he said. “Have a wonderful day.”
Souls
Sans was at the bar, signing something I couldn’t see. Grillby stared at him for a moment before his flames flared in a little poof and he walked away.
I could see the skeleton’s shoulders shaking as he laughed.
I snorted. Definitely a joke. Probably a bad one.
I slid into the empty seat beside Sans, giving Grillby a smile and a wave as he left to attend to other customers. It was still lunch rush and I didn’t expect to be talking to him much today.
“Hey Sans,” I said, my voice thick with humor. I pulled the key from my pocket. “Do you know what boney people use to get into their homes?”
Sans turned to me, his smiling skull devoid of emotion. He didn’t seem interested.
I placed the key on the counter in front of him, covering it with my hands.
“It’s a … skeleton key!” I said as I lifted my hands and waved them in a little fanfare.
Sans looked from my hands to the key and then back to my face before picking the object up.
“It’s to the apartment,” I explained. “You won’t have to use mine anymore. That means you don’t have to stay up all night waiting for me to get home. Once you get home I dub you free of responsibility.”
“You made a key for me?” he asked. He tried to hide it, but I could hear the edge of disbelief in his tone.
“Yeah, of course. I told you it’s your hom too. I meant it.”
He turned the key over in his hand.
“How long did it take you to find one with a skull?”
“I almost didn’t see it,” I admitted. “But not long. I was gonna get you a normal, boring key. But as soon as I saw it I knew it was the key for you.”
He didn’t respond and I fretted. Worried I had overstepped or offended him. Maybe I should have gotten the boring key instead –
He laughed.
Just a snort, but it was enough to banish my fretful anxiety.
‘Fuck yeah,’ I thought with a mental fist pump.
“I couldn’t resist,” I said. “You like it?”
“S’alright,” Sans said as he stared at the key. His eyelights sparked, a flicker of a glow. His smile looked softer. “Thanks.”
I smiled, putting a checkmark in my mental “win” category. Grillby Brough my burger and fries over, sliding the plate across the counter to me.
“ … Drink?” He asked.
I considered.
I didn’t want to deal with the leftover bullshit from last night sober. But if I had a drink it was early enough that I’d probably be sober by the time my shift started.
And if I wasn’t, well … despite not wanting to be sober, I didn’t want to be incapacitated if I had to deal with Jason again.
“Just water,” I said. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I tell you that you can use AS- er … Hands if you’re more comfortable?”
Grillby’s expression softened as he handed me a water bottle. He signed ‘Thank you’ before returning to work.
Sans glared after him as he left.
“His human told him not to use Hands unless asked.”
I frowned at my burger, the information settling in my gut like a rock. Uncomfortable and heavy.
“That … doesn’t really sound like Apollo.”
“He’s an asshole,” Sans said.
“He can be,” I admitted as I took a bite of my burger. I swallowed before continuing. “But … he’s usually not. His soul is green and yellow. Isn’t yellow justice? And green is kindness, I thought.”
Sans stared at me, his expression unreadable. I glanced over at Grillby with a frown.
I remembered all the times Apollo had taken Grillby’s tips, claiming it was for the good of the business.
I remembered how the fire elemental had dealt with broken glasses for months while Apollo knew. They had eventually been replaced, but I didn’t know how much that was because of Apollo. How much of it was due to me tipping Grillby so well.
I thought of how often Grillby was the only employee working a full shop. Dealing with the anger of impatient humans all on his own.
“He’s … not very fair to Grillby, though,” I said softly. More to myself than to Sans.
“How do you know that?”
“Know what?” I asked. How did I know Apollo didn’t treat Grillby well? Wasn’t it obvious?
“How do you know about his soul?”
Ah. That made more sense.
“How do I know the color? He told me,” I said with a wave of my hand, not understanding the monster’s shock.
“He told you?” Sans asked, looking up from my fries in shock.
“Yeah,” I said as I put my burger down. “The colors aren’t any different than your blood type or your horoscope sign for most people.”
When Sans didn’t say anything I sighed and continued on, staring blankly at the wall.
“Before the Barrier broke, humans considered souls to be something spiritual. Intangible, unprovable, under the domain of philosophy and religion, not science. Then monsters came to the surface and suddenly souls were real. They could be called forward by a monster,” I noticed Sans eyeing my fries, so I pushed my plate over to him. “There was a huge craze to learn your soul color. People would find a monster and have their soul ‘read’.” I reached over and picked up my burger again, contemplating it as I spoke. “Most only cared about the color.”
I wasn’t hungry. I knew I would regret it if I didn’t eat more, but my appetite was completely gone.
“Someone released an app that claimed to tell your fortune based on soul color. Like a daily horoscope. That was when Apollo got into it. As soon as he found out his colors he started incorporating them into everything.”
He had bleached his red hair and dyed it green.
It had not been a good look.
“It was short lived, but intense.” I forced myself to eat another bite. After I swallowed I cocked my head at Sans. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”
“Didn’t hang around humans much,” Sans shrugged and popped a fry into his mouth. “So, what. You found a random monster to take out your soul?”
“A lot of people did,” I said with a nod. I picked up a fry and played with it as I spoke. “I know some monsters made a business out of it. I didn’t. It felt too personal. I didn’t have any monster friends, either.”
An understatement to say the least. I hadn’t had many friends. Monster or otherwise.
Not that my number of friends had increased any since then.
“I ran in pro-monster circles, but I never actually got to know any monsters.”
Even if I had, I didn’t know that I would ever trust someone with my soul like that.
I didn’t know if I trusted myself with my soul.
“I didn’t want to know my color.” I explained, refusing to look at Sans. “Even if I’d had a monster friend back then, I don’t think I would have asked them to show me. I wouldn’t now.”
I had been curious until I went with Abby when she had her soul read.
I don’t remember the monster who did it at all. But I remembered feeling overwhelmed with the presence of Abby as soon as her soul manifest over her chest. My own heart reached for the feeling, for the gentle smiles and warm laughter. For her dedication to the innocent and determination to make wrong things right.
I could even feel the darker parts that made up my sister, although I couldn’t name them. Trauma, mistakes, regrets, guilt.
Her soul had been … her. Honey gold and bright and beautiful. Blinding. A miniature sun concealed within her chest, on display for an eternity wrapped in the briefest heartbeat.
It was Abby, distilled to her purest form.
And I knew, if I ever had my soul read, I would feel the same thing.
But for myself.
I shoved the fry in my mouth, determined to stop thinking about it.
“You learn about traits the same way?” Sans asked as he took another fry.
Which he used to scoop up a full tablespoon of ketchup.
I shuddered, holding my revulsion at bay despite the excessive condiment use. I shook my head as I answered.
“Most people only found out the color. They didn’t care to pay attention to what the colors meant. I think a lot of people didn’t even realize the colors correlated with traits. Even the app I mentioned only listed broad color categories.” I frowned, listing them off on my fingers. “I think they used red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and violet, but I can’t fully remember. Might have had some other colors in there too, like magenta or something.”
I shook my head, realizing I had gone off on a tangent. I forced myself back on topic, “Anyway, there was a lecture on souls at Ebbot U. Free to the public.”
It had been an effort toward peace. An attempt to bring understanding to humans who lacked magic, to share knowledge across the racial divide.
It was supposed to explain how weak monsters were compared to humans, as well as why monsters collected human souls over the years.
Unfortunately, that had been spun into “They collect human souls!” and people stopped listening. The auditorium had been nearly empty when I had gone to the lecture.
“The presenter talked about the differences between monster and human souls.
I picked up the rest of my burger. I was going to finish it, even thought I didn’t want to. “She discussed her theories on how human souls develop traits and colors, why traits and colors seem to correlate … She talked about how souls change throughout life.”
Although there were large gaps in her data. Human souls had only become important after the Barrier went up. At that point they were precious commodities, tools of survival. They weren’t something that could be studied easily.
I took a bite of my burger as my thoughts turned dark.
Best case scenario, the scientist who had given the presentation was a slave now. Working in some lab on something that would make her owners a lot of money. If I remembered she had credentials in a few fields – particularly soul biology and robotics.
“She went over the broad colors and traits, focusing mostly on the traits of the Fallen Humans,” I said, pushing my dark thoughts away. “She talked about how the traits influence people’s actions and beliefs. It’s one of the few things I remember from her talk.”
The list of colors and traits was actually one of the few things I still had from the lecture. I had tried to find the presenter’s research afterward but … everything turned sideways and I lost most of the coursework.
I didn’t even remember the monster’s name.
I finished off my burger and remembered the bag at my side. “I got you something else, too!”
I handed the hardware store bag to Sans with a smile after wiping my hands off.
“There’s some keychains and stuff, you can take whatever you like. There’s also a new knob for your door. One that locks. I can install it on Sunday, but if you want it before that I can show you where the tools are.”
Sans took the bag from me, glancing inside to confirm that it contained the items I said. He reached in to shuffle the keychains around.
“The other knob is for the spare room,” I said. “Privacy is important and I want you to have a place that’s all yours. If you want to give me a key to your room, that’s great. But if you don’t, I get it. The room is yours. I’ll only enter with your permission.”
I pushed the empty plate across the bar counter and stretched, wincing as I felt my back pop. I waved at Grillby, motioning that I was ready to pay.
“Please don’t get us evicted,” I said with a smile. “That’s my one rule. No death cults or animal sacrifices.”
“What if they’re small animals?” Sans asked.
I snorted at his tone, but considered the question.
“How small,” I asked for clarification. “I mean … compared to an elephant a goat is small, but sacrificing a goat – while traditional – is still out of the question. I don’t even know how you would get it up the stairs.”
Before Sans could answer I held up a hand.
“Actually, no. No sacrifices. I’d rather not deal with the tortured souls of a bunch of roaches or bedbugs. They’re bad enough when they’re alive. And anything bigger than that would be too messy.”
“Alright, no death cults,” Sans agreed. “But what are your policies on pets?”
The new moon casts shadows across my bedroom floor. The gauzy curtains over my window float in the breeze.
I look at the clock. 25:83 blinks back at me. Too early to be awake, but something is keeping me from sleeping.
My desk catches the corner of my eye as I look toward the door. I’m falling behind in class. I need to study for my exam tomorrow. I’ve been slacking off for too long.
Besides I can hear things from the hallway if I sit closer to the doorway.
I sit down and start reading.
“Theresa. No reading at the dinner table,” my mother says firmly.
I look up from my book and see family dinner all spread out. Mom, my brothers, Abby … everyone is here, and they’re all staring at me expectantly. The novel in my hands is suddenly red hot.
I drop it under the table.
“Sorry.” It comes out as a mumble.
She gives me an irritated roll of her eyes and turns back to everyone else to say grace.
The shadow at the head of the table moves toward me.
No one else acknowledges it, and I watch in detached horror as it begins wrapping around my leg.
Mother isn’t buying me pants anymore, so it isn’t difficult for the shadow to slip under my skirt.
“Theresa!” she snaps, drawing my attention back to her. She’s glaring at me, all anger and rage. Abby and Sammy are at the table still.
Both of them look away as our mother screams at me.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard from her before.
She screams and it sounds like crickets. I turn my attention to my plate, letting her tire herself out with the tirade.
I eat the mashed potatoes carefully. I can’t avoid the way they cut at the insides of my mouth. I don’t complain about the taste of blood on my tongue. It’s my own fault, anyway. I should have been more careful.
The shadow has surrounded me. Over my clothes, under them … it’s touching me everywhere. Whenever I manage to push some away it only increases, becoming clingier.
I’m covered in slime.
The smell overwhelms me. Old coffee, stale cigarettes, cheap liquor.
It clings to my skin and my mother calls me disgusting.
She’s right.
She sends me to my room without dinner. She won’t even tell me why she’s angry. Blood pours from my mouth. I use my shirt to wipe it up.
The slime follows me. It lingers as I shower and clings to me as I put on pajamas. I lay in bed and it lays with me, holding me down by my wrists. Wrapping around my waist.
It circles my arms and legs. Moves me like a marionette.
Everywhere the shadow touches I ignite. The flames engulf me, burn my nerves away like kindling. Leaving nothing but ash and smoke.
It is the only light, the only thing I can see. Outside of the flames is nothing.
There’s no sound. No one around to help. No one who cares.
Nothing but darkness and void.
I scream.
I jolt awake, gasping as I struggle against phantom restraints. There’s a weight on me, holding me down, preventing me from escaping. I look around wildly in the dark, unable to move, unable to even whimper for help. I hear my heartbeat in my ears, the beat wild and erratic.
Shadows taunt me from the dark.
As the paralysis fades I’m able to let out a strangled whimper. Cobwebs of anxiety and fear faded as the details of my nightmare recede into my subconscious. I’m left with emotions and fleeting memories.
I glance at my alarm clock, but don’t register the time, the red numbers incoherent visual stimuli. I reach for my phone, only to find that it isn’t on my nightstand.
I remember leaving it with Sans yesterday. I never took it back after I got home.
It was probably still out on the coffee table, battery slowly draining.
I sit up and turn on my lamp, banishing the shadows from my bedroom.
I rub at the phantom touches, wanting to scald them away with a hot shower. I look at my wrist, where Jason the Racist Asshole had grabbed me. A ring of bruises circle it, and I frown at the reminder.
I knew I should take a photo of the injury. Report it to my manager later today. File a complaint with the police.
My manager’s “advice” replayed in my head, reminding me how little anyone would care.
I should at least tell Abby what happened.
I rubbed at my eyes and looked at my clock again, finally reading the time.
Two-sixteen in the morning.
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep with my heart beating out of my chest. My first shift was at five in the morning.
Guess I was up for the day.
. . . . Sans . . . .
Sans startled from his light sleep in the early hours of the morning.
He stared at his ceiling, trying to figure out what had woken him.
He hadn’t had a nightmare, hadn’t been asleep long enough to have any dreams.
He wondered if it was Theresa, getting up and ready for work. But another glance out his window confirmed that the sky was dark. It was far too early for her to be awake.
There were no noises above his room, the upstairs neighbors quiet and still.
Something was wrong.
Sans closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the night around him.
Distant traffic outside the window, a constant drone that he had become used to. Gentle wind whispering through the buildings of the city around him. Shuffling somewhere in the apartment.
Sans jumped to the door, teleporting so he made as little noise as possible.
The shuffling wasn’t coming from the bathroom or Theresa’s room.
Someone was in the living room.
The sounds were soft, like someone was trying to not make too much noise.
Sans frowned, considering the options.
Theresa could be up still. But … Her sleep debt was massive. He knew most nights she came home and immediately crashed for the paltry three or four hours she could get.
Abby had a key but there was no reason for her to be in the apartment this early in the morning.
Neither maintenance nor the landlord had a reason to be there.
Was it a burglar? Come to take what little the human had?
Sans reached for his magic to take another shortcut into the hallway. He didn’t want to alert a thief with the sound of an opening door. He needed more information before he acted.
Eye sockets dark, the skeleton peeked into the living room. He held untempered magic at hand, ready to coalesce it to a usable form if necessary.
There, on the couch, was Theresa. Lit by the blue glow of the television, she was wrapped in a thick quilt and eating ice cream straight from the tub.
Sans sighed in relief, his eyelights blinking back as the tension in his bones eased.
But she shouldn’t be awake.
Something was wrong.
Sans watched as the human shoved another spoonful of melted ice cream into her mouth. He frowned as she shifted and pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes.
She was … crying.
. . . . Terra . . . .
I watched the screen, shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream into my mouth as I watched the movie. The antics of the toddler on screen made me smile, reminding me of Chloe as a baby. I had always been so relieved when she finally fell asleep while I babysat her.
The monster on screen shared my relief as the toddler promptly conked out.
I rubbed at my eyes with my hand, sniffling and trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
I’m such a stupid crybaby.
I glanced to the kitchen, half considering putting the rest of the ice cream back into the freezer. I had already eaten nearly the entire quart. The rest was melting into a soupy, sticky mess. My stomach ached.
As I looked back to the movie my eye caught on something in the hallway.
My skeletal roommate was staring at me like a villain from a slasher flick. His eyelights only visible as they glowed like stars in the dark.
I scrambled for the remote, barely avoiding spilling ice cream all over myself and the floor. I paused the movie and muted the TV, even though I’d had the volume almost all the way down.
“Sans!” I said in a hushed shout. “You scared me!”
As I regained my composure I frowned, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
He came fully into the living room, bare feet clicking on the wooden floor. He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on earlier, minus jacket.
It was the first time I had seen him without it. I couldn’t help but stare at the bones of his arms as he came out of the shadows of the hallway. They almost glowed in the light of the TV.
Somehow he looked both spookier and softer.
He shrugged as he neared me, sparing a glance at the paused movie.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I put the ice cream container onto the coffee table before slumping deeper into my blanket.
“Sorry,” I said, hoping it sounded sincere.
He waved off my apology.
“I’m a light sleeper,” he said. “Doesn’t take much to wake me.”
I nodded in acceptance, wondering if that was why he napped so often. Did he have trouble sleeping with the noise of the city?
I wondered if there was anything I could get him to help with that. I should look into how to soundproof his room some.
I reached for my phone and made a note for myself.
Sans moved to sit on the other end of the couch. Close, but not touching.
I glanced at the time before I turned my phone back.
Three-thirty-three. I was finally getting tired again, but it was too late to go back to sleep. I only had half an hour before my alarm went off. I rubbed my eyes and turned back to the movie.
“What’re we watchin’?” Sans asked as I was about to start the film again.
“Monsters Inc,” I said. “Wanted something cute and simple.”
That didn’t have romance.
I frowned, very aware of the movie I had chosen to watch and the literal monster next to me on the couch.
“We can watch something else,” I said, cringing at how it sounded like a question more than a suggestion. “Or I should … probably go back to sleep?”
Sans shrugged, “Doesn’t bother me. I know humans had stories about monsters before the Barrier broke.”
I frowned, thinking of all the movies where monsters were the antagonists.
Or where the “monster” was a thinly-disguised allegory to human evil.
The real monster is inside of us.
I started the movie and gave a quick explanation of the movie up to that point.
“Humans are considered toxic, dangerous. As a result, hijinks,” I finished with a flourish of my hand.
Sans chuckled and I wondered if there was an equivalent to the real world.
There hadn’t been much study into the … softer sciences of the Underground. Sociology, psychology, philosophy, theocracy … Most humans hadn’t cared enough. Researchers were more interested in the Core and things like the dimension boxes. Useful things.
Marketable things.
I wondered if humans had been considered dangerous to the Underground.
Given how monsters had ended up inside the mountain, I guessed we probably were.
Another scene went by and I considered taking my ice cream to the freezer. I immediately vetoed the plan and decided to finish the entire container.
Future me be damned.
“Why are you up so late?” Sans asked as I reached for the carton.
I paused just a second too long before hunching over my tub of ice cream, stirring at the melted mess as I spoke.
“Something … unpleasant happened at work,” I said. I was trying to keep my tone light despite the subject matter. Pretty sure I was failing.
“I had a nightmare. I get them a lot, actually.”
I exaggerated a shrug and leaned back. “Usually I can get to sleep after one, but … this one was different?”
I waved at the TV, movie still playing. “So I’m out here watching a movie to distract myself and eating ice cream until I feel sick. Just waiting for my alarm to go off so I can start my day.”
Sans was quiet, watching me with dark sockets. I turned my attention back to the movie, trying to ignore the tense feeling in my stomach.
“That all?” he asked.
I glared at the bruise circling my wrist.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s all. A shit day at work and some bad dreams. I’m … kind of pathetic? Sorry.”
Sans said nothing and I focused back on the movie. Occasionally I pointed out important characters and their role in the plot.
I closed my eyes.
I woke slowly, taking sensations in one at a time.
First: I was well rested.
Second: No alarms were going off, literally or metaphorically.
Finally: I was not in my bed.
I sleepily snuggled deeper into my blanket, unwilling to let the day begin when I felt so … content. The sun warmed me, brighter than usual.
It felt like one of those rare, lazy Sunday afternoons when I would nap on the couch in the living room …
…
…
…!
No.
I bolted upright and fumbled for my phone, panicking before remembering I had left it on the coffee table.
It was there, plugged in and charged.
It was after twelve.
Shit. Fuck!
I pulled up the contact number for my housekeeping job and called in, frantic. I was only an hour late … I could explain and go in immediately.
Maybe I wouldn’t be in too much trouble.
Maybe I wouldn’t lose my job.
Someone answered and my mind blanked.
“Uh … This is Theresa? Navarro? I’m so sorry I’m late, I don’t know how I managed to sleep in. I can be there in half an hour.”
“Calm down, Theresa,” my manager said with a laugh. I sighed in relief that it was the nice one, not the Evil Librarian. “We got a call earlier. Your friend said you were sick and needed the day off.”
“Oh?” I asked, confused. “Who?”
“He just said he was a friend,” my manager said. “It sounds like you’re still under the weather. Don’t worry about coming in today. Rest up and get well soon.”
“Right,” I said, dumbfounded. “Thank you.”
I stared at my phone after disconnecting the call, confused.
I checked my call history and there it was. An outgoing call around ten this morning to my housekeeping job. Another outgoing call before that at four thirty, to the factory.
Had Sans called in sick for me? He was the only other person with access to my cellphone. Why? Why would he care?
I shook my head, deciding to deal with the mystery later. I needed to call my factory foreman, make sure I still had a job to go to in the morning.
Unfortunately his shift had ended around the same time as mine, and he was long gone. The man who answered was at least able to tell me that I should still come in tomorrow, so I made a note to go early.
Maybe I could smooth things over.
I sighed as I dropped my phone to my side and fell back on the couch. Two fuck ups in a single week. What the hell was wrong with me?
Nothing to do about it now.
Sans appeared in the hallway, pulling his jacket over his arms. I waved at him without sitting up and he jumped.
He looked surprised to see me awake.
I must have been pretty out of it last night.
“Hey,” I croaked at him, feeling myself crashing from my morning panic attack. I turned to look at him, pushing myself back up into a sitting position. “We have a surprise five hour break! Wanna get your boney ass on the lease?”
To be completely honest, I didn’t want to do that now. I wanted to shower and relax a little before going back to my warehouse job.
Before potentially facing Jason the Asshat again.
I pulled myself up off the couch and stretched, trying to ease the kinks in my back.
The sectional couch was comfortable for a nap, but not for proper sleep. I always regretted my death naps on the couch.
Sans hadn’t said anything. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, eyelights fixated on my … bare … arms …
Shit.
I grabbed my blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders, hiding myself from view.
“Shit, sorry,” I said in a rush as I passed him on my way to my bedroom. “Give me ten? I’ll get dressed and we can get going.”
I didn’t look back at him before closing my door.
. . . . Sans . . . .
Sans had been planning to drop by Solar’s and get both him and the human lunch. He knew that as long as Grillby’s asshole of a human wasn’t around, the fire elemental would be willing to extend a tab to Sans.
He could get the money from Theresa to pay it back later.
“Hey,” she said from her spot on the couch, her voice rough from sleep.
He hadn’t expected her to be awake.
When her alarm went off at four, it had woken him from his dozing. Terra had whined, wrapping herself more securely in her blanket.
Sans had been about to wake her when he noticed the dark bruises under her eyes. He had made the decision that the human was staying home. Sleeping in.
Stars knew she needed it.
He had known the human wasn’t sleeping enough. Four hours night after night would have worn down Papyrus, and he was made of energy. But he hadn’t known about the nightmares.
He wondered how often she had them, how much sleep was lost to terrors in the night.
“We have a surprise five hour break,” she said as she sat up. She sounded strained, pulled too thin. “Wanna get your boney ass on the lease?”
Sans shrugged, still recalibrating from the change of plans. She had slept almost exactly eight hours, which was the norm for humans.
He felt like he’d hit an ice patch in the Snowdin forest and gone right off a cliff.
He was about to answer her as his thoughts caught up to the present, but the response died on his tongue.
Terra stood to stretch, her quilt falling off of her shoulders and exposing her bare arms.
“We nearly lost her.”
The skeleton couldn’t tear his eyes from her exposed skin. His mind playing through what could cause the damage he saw.
Pale lines crossed puffy scars all over her upper arms. They intersected one another, sometimes neat and straight, other times jagged. A macabre star chart outlining constellations of pain.
It didn’t paint a pretty sight.
“For us it’s more of a deliberate act.”
Those were nothing compared to the large, jagged scars on her forearms and wrists.
Sans was familiar with self harm. He knew, better than many, how it felt to be so low that you wanted pain.
Because you felt nothing else at all.
He knew how guilt, emptiness, self-loathing could destroy every good thing. He knew how the pain let them feel something. Let them punish themselves for real or imagined weakness.
Let them release their anguish in a tangible way. Let them make it real.
Alphys picking at her scales when she got too anxious, too depressed. Too guilty.
Suicide was another thing entirely.
It had been different when talking to Abby. There was a layer of distance.
Seeing the evidence of a failed attempt was visceral.
How long had she suffered before those scars were made?
Sans thought of the monsters who had fallen. Those who had lost hope, locked away in the dark.
So many friends, neighbors, acquaintances.
Parents, siblings, children … lost to hopelessness and broken souls.
His thoughts turned dark.
Theresa should be dead. She should have died, her dust scattered and her family healing from her loss. Broken, but never forgetting her.
It should have happened long before most of those scars were fresh cuts.
Had she been a monster, she wouldn’t be standing in front of him now.
She was only alive because she was human. She survived because she had the determination to live.
It pissed him off.
Why did she deserve to live more than Shyren’s sister? Or Mrs. Snowdrake? Every lost Astigmatism and Froggit and Whimsum?
What made her more worthy than any of them?
Why were humans the ones who could survive without hope?
Was it surviving when they hurt themselves to keep going?
Why was it humans who could come back from falling down?
Was it any better that humans came back from that despair?
Did anyone deserve to carry that weight?
Theresa noticed his stare and looked down at herself in confusion. She squeaked in shame and shock as she realized what his attention was focused on. She spun away from him, grabbing her quilt to wrap around herself.
Hiding the scars from view.
Why were humans so goddamn determined?
“Sorry,” she muttered as she passed Sans, her head down so he couldn’t see her expression. “Gimme ten, I’ll get dressed and we can get going.”
Sans couldn’t react before he heard her bedroom door slam.
He hated humans for their determination. It had led to nothing but trouble.
The weed, the kid, the amalgamates … Every time determination came into it, people got hurt. People suffered.
He hated that he knew what it felt like to fail to end it. Even if his survival was only because of a … technicality.
The knowledge that even in dying, you failed.
Sans sat next to the front door and began pulling on his shoes.
He was angry, but the anger was cooled by the sight of her scars. His soul cried out in empathy for her, for whatever had happened to drive her to such extremes.
He was angry.
He didn’t trust the human.
He couldn’t understand her, couldn’t read her motives.
He hated knowing more about her.
… But the way her expression had crumpled when she realized what he had seen.
… The way she had hidden herself so quickly.
… The way she had rushed down the hall, hiding her face from him …
He was angry.
He didn’t trust her.
But he couldn’t hate her. Not anymore.
. . . . Terra . . . .
As soon as I closed the bedroom door I collapsed into tears.
Sans had seen my arms.
He had seen my scars.
I never left the apartment without my arms covered, even in the dead of summer. Most people didn’t question it.
Those who did got a well-rehearsed excuse.
Usually I slept in long-sleeved shirts as well.
But last night it had felt too confining, so I had worn a camisole instead.
I looked at my left arm, tracing along the scars with my eyes.
I followed the light, uneven lines that cross-crossed my skin. A permanent reminder of my self destruction. A painful habit I had only managed to halt six months ago.
I sat, wrapping my arms around my stomach and pulling my knees toward my face.
He saw my scars.
No one saw my scars. I kept them hidden as often as possible.
Whenever someone saw them I ceased being a person. I stopped being a human being. Instead I became a porcelain doll. Damaged, defective, a burden. Too weak to do anything without constant supervision.
It drove people away.
It made me feel broken.
At least Abby had an excuse. She had been the one to find me when …
When I had tried to opt out.
When my self harm had turned into suicidal ideation.
And ideation turned to action.
I shook my head, pushing myself back to my feet. I needed to get on with my day. I didn’t have enough time to feel sorry for myself.
Didn’t have time to dwell on how dysfunctional I was.
It was just Sans.
I sorted through clothes from one of the “clean” piles on the floor. I was looking for something nice enough for a chat with the landlady.
Not so nice I would have to change before I went back to the warehouse for my evening shift.
Which I couldn’t afford to miss, even if I wanted to. I was already out a good chunk of pay for the day.
It’s not like he’ll care.
I found some nice pants and a polo over a long-sleeved undershirt. A quick pit check and I got dressed.
At least I looked like a functional adult.
I went into the bathroom, splashing cold water onto my face to wash away the worst of the tear tracks and puffiness. I checked the buttons of the polo self consciously.
I was still angry about what my manager had said. How she had implied I’d asked for harassment.
Assault.
I only had one of the three buttons done, but that was standard.
I buttoned up the second one.
I closed the bathroom door behind me as I walked into the living room.
Sans was slipping on his pink tennis shoes. He tucked the laces into the sides instead of lacing them, and I rolled my eyes.
I smiled as he stood and I realized which shirt he was wearing.
Schrödinger’s cat.
I came up with half a joke, something to do with space-time and catnaps, but I couldn’t figure out a way to make it work.
“Hope I’m not messing up Sans Time,” I said with an apologetic shrug, hoping I sounded natural. “But … this really is the best chance we’re gonna get to put you on the lease before Halloween. I think we’d both rather have one less thing to worry about.”
Sans nodded, expression neutral. I smiled as I grabbed my keys and held the door open for him.
I hoped he wouldn’t ask me about the scars.
I rubbed at my arms through the fabric of my shirt.
Tiny Raven 