Chapter Text
652 years later
The door opening woke Toriel up. She was surprised. Asgore, her husband, was lying in bed next to her. No one should be here not even her adopted daughter, Frisk who much to her surprise, although human had somehow mutated and allowed her to live hundreds of years longer than she should. It was late. The clock told her it was 2A.M. Toriel slowly climbed down the stairs, fire glowing in her hands. It must be an intruder. She saw a silhouette of a man in her living room.
“Hello Toriel.” The living room lights flicked on. No one had touched the light switch.
The man’s voice was soft yet firm. Toriel stood from her crouch, approaching the figure who had his back turned to the stairway. He had red shaggy hair and wore a black hoodie jacket and baggy jeans over a pair of boots. A red scarf was tied around his waist like a sash. He had his hands in front of him so she couldn’t quite see what he was doing with them.
“Do extinguish that fire.”
“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” Toriel asked threateningly.
“Knock knock.” Cyan filled the room, emitted from the man.
“Who’s there?” She whispered and widened her eyes.
“Sans.”
The man turned around and grinned. He had a sharp nose and glasses were perched on them. Lazy half moon eyes with grey blue pupils and a scar under his left eye and above his right. He had pale skin in contrast to his dark hair.
“Y-You…” He moved and sat down on the couch. His figure flickered and it returned to the one she had not seen in slightly over 650 years. She crumpled onto the sofa next to him and she sobbed, holding her furry paws to her mouth.
“What happened? How? Did… did you get nerve transplants?” She asked, gesturing at his legs. The black machine was still attached to his head, leading down under his hoodie.
“Nah. I just used my telekinesis to make myself walk. A cool trick I learned to keep going about say… 600 and… 30 years ago?” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Weariness could be seen plainly on his face.
“You never told us where you went… We were so worried. We thought you and Grillby ran away after Papyrus and Leon died and…” She trailed off when Sans face turned dark, pain turning his lips down and forcing tears to his eye sockets.
“Don’t say their names. Don’t…”
“But Sans… Grill-”
“HE’S DEAD!” Voices layered his tone as he turned to stare at her angrily. “HE’S DEAD AND NO ONE CAN BRING HIM BACK.”
Toriel lurched backwards and Sans softened his voice, the glow in his eyes fading.
“I’m sorry… I just…I don’t go by Sans anymore. Its Pyralis.”
He pulled something over his neck. A pouch attached to a necklace. He curled the chain in his hand for a second before he handed it to her. He wore the same gloves, she noted. The fingerless ones with holes in them to match his hands. She opened the pouch and almost dropped it. It was filled with dust with a silver ring with a red stripe in the center. A ‘G’ and ‘S’ intertwined and engraved in red. Identical to the one on Sans’ left hand.
“Is that… Is that…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Sans nodded dumbly, slowly reaching out and taking it back, looping it around his neck and tucking it under his shirt.
“You’ve grown in so many ways S-... Pyralis. Tell me, what have you done these past hundreds of years?”
“Explored. Went travelling. Expanded my magic capabilities as you saw. Did a few things.”
“Such as?”
“Joined the army for awhile. Then some police force and agency work…It was quite exciting really. I enjoyed it.” He pushed his sleeves up his arms, twisting the ring on his finger. Blue, black and red tattoos marked his bones, barely hiding the scars and cracks that littered his arms. The beginning of Grillby’s name could be seen on his right arm disappearing under his sleeve. Toriel bit her lip. He noticed it and quickly pulled down that sleeve, rubbing on it absently.
“Anyway. How have things been back home?”
“Frisk is still very much alive.”
“Is she? I thought she was human. Most half breeds live up to a kiloyears only.”
“We don't quite know either. Her time in the Underground must have changed her genetics somehow.”
“Huh. Interesting.” She could practically hear the gears in his head working at that.
“Why did you come back?” Toriel asked softly. She moved her hand over his.
He stiffened at her touch but didn’t pull away.
“Just thought I’d see how my hometown was doing.” He said tightly, smiling. He got up and nearly buckled.
“Sans!”
He straightened himself, staggering slightly.
“Whoops. Forgot I couldn’t walk. And it’s Pyralis.” He laughed and if she didn’t know him well enough, she would have almost believed that laughter was real.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll find a place to sleep. I’m… staying around for awhile.”
“Stay. It won’t be any issue I assure you. I have a spare room that’s been left empty awhile now that Frisk has moved out.” She could see him hesitate but he nodded tiredly.
He walked up the stairs with her and towards Frisk’ old bedroom. It felt odd with Sans walking beside her but she said nothing. He didn’t seem to bother that the room was striped blue and purple and that there were stuffed animals lying on the bed. He simply took off his boots and climbed onto the bed, lying down with an arm thrown over his eyes.
“See you in the morning.”
---
Sans waited until she was gone before he snapped his fingers. A blue fire ignited in between his index finger and thumb, lighting up his face. He let it suspend in the air before he lay back on the bed, staring at the dancing flame as he made it turn reddish orange like it should be. Her thoughts had been loud and confused and he could hear it clearly in the room next to Frisk’s.
‘Is Sans going to be okay? I worry for him. What if he isn’t?’
He blocked it out easily. To be honest, Sans wasn’t quite sure why he had returned. Only the urge of home, Papyrus and Grillby had called him back. The first few decades following his brother and… and husband’s death, he’d been broken, wandering the world mindlessly. The pain had never gone away and today was a testament to that. It had only become a part of him that he had finally accepted and carried around - quite literally.
Throughout the years, he’d worked hard to piece his life together, regaining every strip of lost memory, forcing himself to become a new person. New and old. The next 400 years following his decades of mourning, he'd trained to stretch his magic. The first thing he learned was how to wield fire. He studied ancient books on magic, meeting pyrokinetics and how they looked at fire, how they understood it, how they called it into their hands, into any part of them and let it flow out. It was the thing he had obsessed about, to learn what gave Grillby fire, what had given him life.
Millions of times he had burned himself, on purpose or on accident, he didn’t always remember which. It took him a good 23 years to learn it. Everything else after came fairly easy. Glaciokinesis, Typhokinesis , Illusions, Morphing, Enhanced senses,speed, strength, and agility... He could tell who was in a building, break down mental walls and build them millions of times stronger. He trained each ability, new and old until there was nothing else to learn.He could make himself look human and that’s what he usually did.
Somehow, Papyrus and Grillby infected everything he did. Gave himself red hair that reminded him painfully of Grillby’s flames, slightly taller to match Papyrus’ height and wore a scarf around his hips. He even wore the glasses, remembering the way Grillby always lost them when they were busy kissing and had to help him search for them. He was neat and clean, just like Papyrus would have wanted things to be. Nothing out of place. There was a price to pay when one played with magic. His eye lights turned red and when he glowed, despite the light that came out was still cyan or purple, his eyes were still red and a tinge of crimson circled the eye socket.
Then, he’d gotten jobs, acted like a human. He'd gotten good at it too, forgetting during the days as he busied himself with life, with fighting.
But as the sun set, he would stop and stare until it was out of sight and the moon had replaced it in the sky. And he would stay that way until the sun rose and the dark colors of night were replaced with pink and gold and orange red and then it was morning and he would stand and forget again.
But one day, he hadn't forgotten. The pain had ripped through him like a million bullets and he'd sat in his home, sobbing and wailing until several weeks had passed. He got up and boarded a plane that night, he was in Australia at the time, and took a 14 hour plane flight where he pretty much cried silently the whole time and freaked out the woman next to him and the flight attendant. He took two other flights each taking approximately 5 more hours before he finally came home, back to Mt Ebott.
He went to a graveyard, searching for hours. He found Papyrus’ name in a special section for the few acquainted with the king. He never found Grillby’s name and now, he knew why. They hadn't know he was dead. For near 700 years they hadn't know he was dead.
The thought left an ugly, disgusting awful heart wrenching feeling all over. Dead. Grillby was gone. Oh great Asgore why was he gone?
All Grillby ever wanted was to live peacefully with Sans. It didn't matter to the elemental that he was broken and filthy and tainted . He had looked at Sans and he'd told Sans that he was perfect, he was okay, he was his little dove. His little dove that he would do anything for. Even if it mean dying.
He cried the rest of the night.
---
Asgore got out of bed thanks to Toriel’s insistence that he meet a long gone friend of theirs. He went first to Frisk’s bedroom but found it empty so he went down. He saw the back of a skeleton seated at the kitchen table.
“Hello Asgore.” The skeleton turned and Asgore yelped.
“Sans!”
“It’s Pyralis but yes.”
Asgore grinned and reached over, giving Sans a hug that almost swallowed him up in the bulk and furriness of Asgore’s arms.
“Please. I’d perfer it if you set me down.” Asgore laughed but did as asked.
“My goodness Sans-”
“Pyralis.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My name is Pyralis now. Pyralis White.”
Asgore fell quiet, thinking.
“I’ll take my leave. I’ll come back tonight if need be. I’ll be around for a while don’t worry.” And with a pat on Asgore’s shoulder, he teleported out of sight.
Asgore sighed and went about to make some tea.
---
Sans quickly changed back into his human form then walked down the street, passing by each and every building. Most had changed, and very few, a minority of one or two buildings stayed the same aside from a new paint job, slight extensions and a garden. His magic faltered and his legs screamed in pain. He stopped at a house. It looked very much like his. Except it had spray painted art all over the walls. The lights were on.
He drew closer, his magic flickered. He quickly conjured his wheelchair, sitting down on it as he took several shaky breaths. His hips ached from the few steps taken without aid from his magic.This was his home. It had been his home but now someone else lived inside it. His heart ached painfully.
Sans wheeled himself closer. He suddenly felt so weak. So fragile. He rolled himself around the house, his hand reaching out to touch the walls. It felt the same. Even through what must have been multiple paint jobs, it still felt like his home. He finally wheeled himself until he was at the corner of the house, peeking over at the back door.
-
Sans looked down from his bedroom window, looking as Grillby knocked on the door, and waited for Sans to open the door. Papyrus opened the door instead. Grillby was fitted in a tuxedo which was very unlike him.
“I'm here for Sans.”
Sans pushed himself down the ramp and quickly met Grillby at the door.
“Hi Grillby…” he whispered softly in his head.
“Sans! Hello… you look… amazing…”
Sans flushed, tugging at his own tie.
“I… I know this is really unexpected and not the best place to do it…”
Grillby walked over and knelt down in front of Sans. His fire had turned a shade darker.
“But I want this place to be special. This place has always been special to me. To us.”
Grillby pulled a small red box from his pocket, looking at it before he looked back at Sans.
“Will you marry me?” He flushed as he unclasped the box. In the center of the box, nestled in cloth was a ring.
“Yes.” Sans whispered.
“Seal it?”
Sans grinned and pulled Grillby’s tie so their lips collided.
“Did you even have to ask?”
---
Sans broke away from the memory and wiped tears away from his eye sockets. They'd sealed every promise with a kiss. It was a connection between them. Between-
“Hey! What are you doing on my property!?” A young woman stormed up to him. She had jet black hair that was pulled back into a bun and she wore a loose singlet and shorts.
“My apologies. I'll take my leave.” Sans twisted his wheelchair around and started to roll himself away.
“Wait… what were you doing here?”
Sans paused. He didn't want to answer her. Not really.
“I used to live here. That's all.” And then he pushed himself out of the garden, away from his home.
---
“What a strange man.” Samantha muttered out loud as she watched the redhead push the wheelchair with practiced ease until he was out of sight.
She probably shouldn't have yelled at him. She'd seen him from her kitchen window, crying as he watched the backdoor of her home. Samantha was a half-breed, birthed 538 years ago with a passion for music and art.
When Samantha bought the place, people in the neighborhood had said it was haunted. No one had lived in this place for more than 600 years. She was surprised at the condition it was in really.
Although weeds and odd things had grown around and in the house, the paint wasn't peeling and everything inside was in good condition. Monster Magic. She didn't buy much of any furniture. She simply removed the pictures and paintings and dumped them in a box. Put them upstairs under a bed.
Now she took the box out and pulled out the photos. Pictures of skeleton men and several of a skeleton and an elemental. A fire elemental. Those beings had long ago gone extinct. There were possibly a few wind and earth elementals but hardly did you ever see them along the streets anymore.
The ones she'd found mostly hung on the walls were ones of two skeletons, the one always seated had a machine like object attached to his head. This particular skeleton was usually found in photos with the elemental. There was even a wedding photo, both men wearing tuxedos and kissing.
She never saw any of a redheaded man with glasses. Samantha gritted her teeth. That man had just randomly broken into her front yard! Well… maybe not break in. He'd just been wheeling around the premises. Still. If she ever saw him again, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.
---
Undyne walked down the street carrying a bag of groceries. Alphys had asked her to grab some food so they could stay home all week and binge watch some anime. It had been awhile since they did that together. Even though they were married now, Alphys was almost always busy, as was Undyne. Undyne spent most of her years travelling, shooting and kicking ass. Her girl on the other hand had her head stuck between books, writing, and tinkering with machines.
Sometimes, she wished she could just sit down with Alphys and listen to her rant about her theories and latest invention. And this week was the week to do it. Finally after so many decades[the last time they had proper wifey time was about “21 days, 5 hours, 2 minutes annnnnnnnd 9 seconds and counting” according to Alphys]
“What are you doing on my property!?” Undyne heard a female voice yell out. Silence. Undyne ran towards the source of the voice. Was there some burglar? Some-
She skidded to a stop. There was only one house down this street. One house only. She started to move again and almost crashed into a man in a wheelchair.
“Shit! Sorry I wasn't looking-”
“Undyne?” She looked down at the man. “Do I know you?”
“What? 652 years later and you forget me? I’m hurt.” The man laughed. He sounded painfully familiar. Almost like Grillby. But he couldn't be.
“Do I know you?” She repeated.
His hair faded away and the pale skin turned bone white.
“FUCK! I mean Sans! I mean...fuck you Sans!”
He laughed harder, his voice now his own though it sounded different to her. He pushed the glasses further up his nose. She laughed alongside him. And stopped. He had stood up, the wheelchair disappearing.
“Look Mom! No wheels!” He chuckled as her jaw dropped. He pulled his pant leg up a little so it revealed a bit of bone and a wire in-between his pants and boots. They glowed blue.
“Sweet shit!” Undyne nodded her head, understanding.
He picked up a bottle of juice she'd dropped.
“Here. I'll walk with you. Need help?” he asked as they walked back towards her home. They took long and leisurely strides, Sans taking a cigarette out and lighting it with a lighter.
“Nah. Alphy and I are anime watching tonight. Haven't done that in a while. We're married! Did you know that? So. What did you and Grillby spend your 600 years worth of honeymoon doing?” She almost burst out laughing at that but stopped herself when she saw the look on Sans face. He quickly covered it up when he saw her looking at him worriedly.
“Oh… uh… nothing much.” He fingered the ring, twisting it.
-
He didn't know why he'd lied. Maybe he just couldn't admit Grillby's death twice in two days. It was painful being back here. It broke down his defenses. Defenses he had taken years to build. It used to be easy, pretending to laugh and joke like he was normal. Like he had never been kidnapped, he had never been raped, like he hadn't been mentally abused, like his brother hadn't died, hadn't been murdered, like Grillby hadn't been shot , like he hadn't died in his arms.
Now, being back here, it ripped those facades away like they were nothing but flimsy nets made out of wet paper. He didn't know why he was still here, sticking around. He should be far far away from here. Half-way across the world in Australia. The pain was everywhere. Everything and everyone he saw reminded him of Grillby and of Papyrus.
He was supposed to be a great pretender. An actor. A liar. Just slightly more than 24 hours ago, he had hid away the disgust from men he called ‘friends’ who called him to join them in a stripper bar, to find a prostitute. He had declined. 3 days ago, he had ripped a man to shreds for raping a ten year old. After that, he had played with the same little girl and told her everything was alright. A week ago, he had walked down the streets and laughed at jokes that weren't funny, drank wine with perverts, ate with murderers and he had come out without a scratch, and those men, who now were probably nothing more than ashes in the sea, had thought he was their partner in crime. A friend.
And now, the second he had seen Toriel, he'd almost broken down. He needed to get his game back on. Everything was okay. He hadn't shattered. He'd held himself for millenniums, held himself for 237981 sunsets and sunrises. He could do it again. He could keep his last promise to Grillby till his final breath. He had to.
---
Undyne sensed the lie in his words but she forced a smile anyway.
“I see you've learned a few tricks. Mind teaching me?”
“Ah I'm not much of a teacher. I'm more of skill-eton.”
He laughed at his own joke. They fell silent the rest of the way.
“Frisk lives there. Her husband died 200 years ago.” Undyne pointed at a yellow brick building. “Speaking of husbands, where's yours?”
“O-oh. He's busy with work at the moment. He'll come in a few weeks time.” Sans said with a twist of the ring on his hand.
“I live here. See you around? We really need to talk on more important stuff. Like why you two didn't tell us why your were leaving. Or where to.”
Undyne opened the door to a plain white building.
“Sure. See ya Undyne.”
---
Sans wasn't sure he wanted to visit Frisk. Or anyone just yet. He walked around. There were malls and monsters and humans, some he could sense were half-breeds. The park he'd once loved to go to was no longer there. There used to be a beach here. Then there was that really tall and cool looking building that he knew hadn't been there. And that. And that. That had changed. That hadn't changed much… except it hadn't been pink then…
He stopped at another beach. It had been sectioned off. Construction was supposed to start in a month's time. To make a brand new hotel. He teleported easily over the fence, finding that it was still beach looking with it’s palm trees, sea breeze and long stretches of white sand everywhere. He made his shoes vanish, his boney toes sinking into the soft sand.
He and Grillby had gotten married here. On this beach. And they were going to turn this place into a fucking hotel. He walked till he was waist deep in sea water. Then, he threw out a hand angrily, fire exploding from his fingers and almost instantly, the water surrounding him was boiled away. Water slowly crawled back like it was afraid, covering him again. He conjured a rock and threw it out into the sea, watching as it skipped the water before it sank. A second passed and then the water where the stone had sank exploded. It sprayed him, beating down on him painfully and he relished it. He was drenched, his clothes sticking to his skin.
He changed back into his skeletal form and waited quietly. He waited till the sun begin to set.
A tear slipped down, plopping gently into the sea surrounding him. Another and another and then tears were streaming down his race freely as he kissed the ring in his hand. He fumbled, pulling the other ring from the pouch on his necklace. He tossed it up and down in his hands, then he drew his hand back. A moment of hesitation before he flung the ring. It glinted in the sinking sun's glare before it splashed into the water. He teleported out of the beach, leaning against the fence as he cried.
When midnight came, he was still crying.
He raised a hand up into the air and something flew into his hand wet and dripping. He wiped it until it was dry and sand no longer clung to it. Then he kissed the letters engraved onto it before returning it back into its pouch, letting it rest against his chest.
---
Frisk got a call the next morning.
“Hi Mom! How's everything?”
“Frisk! I have amazing news for you.”
“Really? Did you win this year's pie contest again? I know the contest was just yesterday. Sorry I missed it.”
“Oh, yes I did! That's not what I called to tell you though.”
“What? My Mom isn't calling me to tell her about her amazing snail pie? That's a first!”
Frisk giggled, giving her pet dog, Lola a scratch behind the ears.
“Enough with the joking dear. Sans is back.”
Frisk dropped the phone and it clattered. Lola barked and pounced on the phone, holding it in her jaws.
“Give it back Lola! No biting!” Frisk quickly pried it from the Labrador's teeth, wiping away slobber on her T-shirt before holding the phone to her ear.
“You said what?”
“Are you alright? I said Sans I back.”
“Yeah I just… dropped the phone. He's back? When? How?”
A knock on the door interrupted her.
“Hold on Mom. I'll call you back ASAP.”
Frisk reached for the door handle pausing when someone's voice called out.
“Knock knock kiddo.”
She pulled open the door and stared at Sans. He had a pair of glasses on his nose and a lopsided smile that she hadn't seen in 661 years. The one the old Sans gave her. Frisk broke into a smile, reaching over to hug him.
“Sans! When did you come back?”
“Yesterday. And I don't go by Sans anymore. It's Pyralis.” He said patiently.
“Oh.” Frisk frowned for a second before she grinned again. It didn't matter what he called himself. He was still Sans to her.
“Come in! I- LOLA NO!”
The dog bounded over, leaping up at Sans to latch her canines around his fingers. The dog had caught onto the scent of bones and she was hungry. Sans lurched backwards, at the same time pulling off his jacket and wrapping the dog up mid flight and then hugging her close to his chest. He had changed in the fraction of a second, turning from monster to human.
Frisk blinked first at him, then the squirming, much confused dog in his arms.
“Cute canine. Lola was it? I'll have to mask my scent I suppose. What are you… oh.” Sans looked down at himself, seeing his tattooed flesh. “Bad habit. Apologies.” He gave a short nod and the skin and muscle and everything that made him not him, faded away. Frisk noticed the tattoos still stayed on his bones.
“Mind if I come in?” She shook her head and moved to allow him to enter, shutting the door behind him. Lola didn't try biting him again, instead, finally squirming her way out of her bonds and leaping to the ground, claws scrabbling on the tiles. Sans sat down heavily on the couch, closing his eyes.
“Sorry I just… need a break…” he said to her without opening his eyes and then promptly fell asleep. Frisk stared at him in disbelief for a second, then sat down beside him.
“Lola! Come here!” She called softly. The dog padded over to her, pulling herself onto Frisk's lap. Frisk stroked the dog’s fur, carefully inspecting the tattoos on his arms.
Grillby's name was tattooed on his upper right arm, the 'lby’ hidden under the sleeve of his turtleneck. An outline of a dove, an arrow protruding from its chest, bloody feathers fluttering behind it was next to the 'G', just above the elbow joint. Stripes and triangles and all sorts of shapes in a beautiful intricate Ta Moko on his ulna. Two snakes intertwined, one red and the other black, heads reared and fangs bared, facing each other at the upper part of his radius, heads pointed toward the falling dove. Then the same intricate pattern found on his ulna was repeated below, a corner of it hidden beneath the glove.
On his left humerus was a small blue and big black circle overlapping each other with a red sun in the center of the lower, large black outline with a red skull just above the elbow joint. Tree roots clinging to the back of the skull, creeping down its neck, the leafless branches reaching up to the circles, four of the branches turning into strings to shape a guitar. A Phoenix at the top of his ulna with the same Ta Moko found on his right arm on the lower parts of his ulna and the upper parts of his radius. The lower part of his radius had a red anchor at the wrist, a long black chain circling it over and over, flames licking the links turning them a hot red where they touched the links.
She was amazed. Tattoos for monsters were no easy feat. They were extremely painful and had to be re-inked several times for them to permanently stay there. Especially for skeletons. One had to chip away bone before rubbing ink into the open wound for days. Monsters healed incredibly fast and that would require several chippings to continue inking but at the same time, make sure it didn't turn into a permanent crack so it could heal over once the ink settled. It could take weeks just to make a small tattoo.
Frisk wanted to find out what had happened. What had changed? Did Grillby find a better therapy for Sans? Maybe that was why he was more like the Sans she knew from the Underground. Was the tattoos part of that therapy? She'd heard of therapeutic tattoos.
Sans shifted and she tore her eyes away, pretending that she'd been petting and saying sweet nonsense to Lola.
Maybe she would tell him that someone had bought his house. That she had tried fighting for it. The girl who'd bought it, Samantha, had soon become friends with Frisk. Frisk had visited once or twice and was happy to see that nothing much inside had changed except for the photos torn down and the locks changed. She hadn't asked what had happened to the photos. It was no use now. Sam had probably thrown them out the second she saw them.
She shrieked when she saw blue eyes staring back at her.
---
He almost wanted to laugh at her theories about his tattoos if only the meaning behind each one in him weren't linked to a dead man.
Samantha. So that was the woman's name.
Sans heart ached at the thought that the photos he hadn't taken with him were probably torn up in a dumpster.
He finally opened his eyes and stared at Frisk, leaning close. She was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn't notice him until he was almost touching his nose with hers.
Frisk shrieked, swearing and batting her hand at him. The dog, Lola, barked at him and he laughed.
“So Frisk. You look like you're in your thirties. How are you still alive and beautiful? You'd think being a 670 year old human would give you wrinkles.”
She scowled at him but a smile twitched at her lips.
“I'm not sure either. Alphys explained it once, a long time ago but I've forgotten most of it. I'm still human, no ability, no magic no nothing. No amazing memory.”
She looked him up and down.
'I wonder how he started walking.’
“I use my Telekinesis and help my legs move.” He answered her unsaid question.
“Oh. Doesn't it hurt?”
“Nah.” He grinned and rubbed the ring on his finger.
---
Frisk led him to his home. He was back in the wheelchair, his human form slipping on easily. She knocked on the door and a woman, Samantha, answered the door.
“Hi Frisk! So nice to-you!” Samantha stared at him.
“Samantha, S.. uh Pyralis... Pyralis, Samantha.” Frisk mumbled, looking at the two of them.
“Met briefly.”
“Met we did! You came into my garden staring at my backdoor like a creep! Well I-”
“I told you. I used to live here. I simply-”
“Uh uh. I didn't see you in any pictures in this house.” She snapped her fingers and then jerked a thumb at the house.
“How would you know?”
“I kept the pictures and-”
“You have pictures?” Sans gripped the wheelchair tightly, rising slightly.
Samantha took a step back.
“Y-yeah…”
“Give them to me! You have t-”
“Okay calm down. Everyone. Why don't we all-”
“Oh for heaven's sake come in!”
-
Sans stared at the photos, eyes wide. He mumbled something and then picked up the next photo.
“So. If you used to live here, why don't I see you in those photos?” Samantha asked.
“That's because he's actually-”
“-Camera shy. I didn't like my photo taken.” Sans interrupted Frisk. She shot a look at him but he ignored her, twisting the ring on his finger.
“Then who were those people?”
Frisk didn't answer.
“They lived here too. They died a long time ago.”
“What about Grillby?” Sans looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Oh Grillby? He's busy. Not dead. He'll come by in a...few weeks time. Take about a day to get here. We're living in Australia right now.” He explained, rubbing the ring absently, eyes distant. Frisk giggled. He must missed kissing Grillby, even if it were for a few days.
“Which one is Grillby?” Samantha asked, leaning to look at the pictures.
“The elemental.” Frisk gestured at the fire monster, locked in a kiss with skeleton Sans.
“What about him? Isn't he married to this Grillby?” She pointed at the Sans in the picture.
“He died a long time ago. Like I said.” Sans said flatly.
“Oh. Grillby must be so sad. So he married you after?”
Sans blinked and he mumbled something.
“Pyralis?” Samantha prodded.
More silence. Frisk ached to tell the truth. Maybe seeing Papyrus' pictures were painful for him. But there had to be a reason he was lying. Maybe he couldn't be Sans anymore because looking at himself reminded him of his brother. Maybe…
“Yeah. Yeah he did. He… he is an amazing person. He got over Sans and then…” Sans twisted the ring in his hand, sliding it free from his finger and rolling it between his thumb and index finger.
Frisk wondered if he was referring to more than just Grillby.
“Why don't we just move on to other stuff?”
Sans jolted placing the pictures down on his lap.
“That’s okay. You can have these back.” He put the pictures back into the box, closing it and the holding it out to Samantha. She blinked at him, surprised.
“What? I have no use for them. They are of your friends. Keep them.” Sans looked down.
“Thank you.”