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Published:
2016-06-09
Completed:
2016-06-28
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Appreciation For Honesty

Summary:

The people closest to Papyrus have a habit of keeping secrets from him. He's not sure whether it would be better or worse if he didn't know about it.
(And perhaps he wouldn't, if they were as good at it as he is.)

Notes:

I fell in love with this post:
http://papyrus-knows.tumblr.com/post/144553515205/batter-sempai-zekestrife-jewels336
and decided to write something based on it! I'm not too familiar with fanfic writing, yet, but I hope this is worth the read!

Chapter 1: Culinary Artshow

Chapter Text

Papyrus knocks on his brother’s door.

 

“SANS? ARE YOU IN THERE?”

 

No reply.

 

“SANS? HOW IS THE SPAGHETTI?.”

 

Silence.

 

Papyrus enters the room; it’s empty. The spaghetti he left under the door is untouched.

 

So where is Sans?

 

The quiet sound of a door opening and closing. Sans slipped out of the house, almost silently, not even saying he was leaving. Papyrus, panicking over the water bubbling up and over the pot, was only barely aware of it.

 

Sans has gone to Grillby’s, of course. Again.

 

It’s a regular habit of his, by now.

 

But he usually at least tries the spaghetti before he goes. Has he given up on that, too?

 

And... Papyrus has really been trying so very hard to make it taste good. This time, he’s sure he’s improved, just a little. If Sans doesn’t like it, why can’t he just say so?

 

Papyrus laughs a little, softly. Telling the truth is never Sans’s preferred course of action. It hasn’t been for a long time.

 

Papyrus picks up the plate full of almost-cold spaghetti, and heads back down to the kitchen. As he walks, he considers going after his brother, to bring him back from Grillby’s. He’s done it before, after all.

 

But, at Grillby’s, Sans has friends. People who like him. People he can joke with. And perhaps that was the real reason Sans went, just now. (It’s a nice thought, at least.)

 

It would be unbelievably selfish of Papyrus to take that away from him yet again. (He’s done it before.)

 

Even if the alternative is sitting alone in an empty house.

 

Entering the kitchen, he transfers the spaghetti to a container. He puts the plate in the sink, and the container into the refrigerator, to sit alongside countless others. It’s a veritable museum of uneaten failures. (And who’s the real failure, the hapless creations or the one who created them?)

 

His own plate is still on the bench. It’s probably cold, too.

 

Well, that’s alright. Even if it’s cold, there’s nothing better than eating food made with your own hard work!

 

...except for having someone else eat food made with your hard work. But Papyrus knows (no matter how much he pretends he doesn’t) that he will have to work harder, if he ever wants that to happen.

 

He sits down on the couch, places his spaghetti on the table in front of it. There’s a good MTT episode on tonight. It’ll be a nice distraction.

 

It’s getting late.

 

He should really go and retrieve Sans from Grillby’s.

 

But...

 

Sans smiling, looking the closest to happy he’s been since then. That last time, he was visibly disappointed when Papyrus showed up to bring him home.

 

Papyrus decides that it’s better if he waits, just a little longer.

 

After all, he knows his brother can take care of himself.

 

Chapter 2: Very Famous Royal Guardsman

Chapter Text

Papyrus passes by the Snowed-Inn on his way out of town to check on his puzzles. Undyne is staying there for now, because her house has burnt down (again).

 

He considers going in to see how she’s doing. It wouldn’t take too long, but... he doesn’t feel like getting patted on the head, at the moment.

 

Perhaps later.

 

Undyne’s house burnt down as a result of their latest spaghetti-cooking lesson. The bench caught fire, which spread to the rest of the house in seconds. It happens almost every time they make spaghetti, really.

 

Not that they ever make anything else.

 

Papyrus doesn’t mind at all, though. He does need to get better at it. And the lessons are very fun, even when they get out of hand.

 

He doesn’t mind. Even if Undyne doesn’t really train with him anymore, even if she’s clearly trying to steer him away from the Royal Guard....

 

...well. That, he does mind. Just a little. It would be nice if someone were honest with him, didn’t underestimate him, for once. If not Sans, then...

 

A friend..?

 

Papyrus stops short, just outside Snowdin. It doesn’t often occur to him to think of Undyne as a “friend”. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but, it feels almost pretentious to use such a word, when he has no idea how Undyne thinks of him.

 

She’s always so kind and encouraging to him. Her fury whenever he dies is painful to watch. She has never made the assumption that he’s always happy, he can’t be hurt; it’s harder for Papyrus to hide it from her than from his own brother.

 

But if Undyne truly thought of him as an equal, (and isn’t that what it takes to be someone’s friend?) would she lie to him?

 

Tell him that he can join the Royal Guard if he can capture a human, when it’s been so long since a human last came to the Underground, that neither he, nor Sans, nor Undyne herself, has ever seen one? (She’s stalling, just in case he grows suspicious about the repetitive cooking lessons.)

 

Tell him that the job of a Royal Guard is to capture a human, when everyone but him has orders to kill? (She changed the subject after explaining that a captured human would be sent to the capital.)

 

Papyrus doesn’t need to be told these things, to know the truth.

 

He would just be so much happier if she did tell him.

 

Chapter 3: Tiny Flower

Notes:

Just to be clear, the first two chapters took place during Flowey's timelines, this one takes place during Frisk's! I also spent a little less time on this chapter, so please don't hesitate to let me know if it's confusing or hard to read.

Things did not get better for Papyrus. Oops.

Chapter Text

When Papyrus goes to meet Flowey this time, Flowey asks him if he can call the human, suggest that they go to Dr. Alphys.

 

Why, he won’t say. He never does.

 

But Papyrus doesn’t mind, because it will all work out in the end, and he’s concerned about Alphys, after all.

 

(It’s not the only thing Flowey wants Papyrus to do, so it takes a few minutes before he’s actually ready to make the call.)

 

Papyrus greets the human, but it doesn’t come out right.

 

It’s always the same when he calls them here. No matter how hard he tries, he stumbles over his words - don’t sound suspicious (but he does, he would even if he tried not to, and it doesn’t really make a difference)

 

don’t specify which lab, house- (STRANGE DOG’S HOUSE) he doesn’t know what a lab is, and he definitely doesn’t know about the other one

 

there’s guilt in his voice (no need to feel guilty)

 

he hangs up. Flowey moves to leave.

 

Then, hesitates. “Are you okay, Papyrus?”

 

“OF COURSE! WHY WOULDN’T I BE OKAY, FLOWEY? I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE HELPING THE HUMAN AND DR. ALPHYS OUT!”

 

Flowey huffs, mutters something under his breath; leaves.

 

Papyrus’s head feels as if it's about to split apart, but he ignores it, even when he’s sure Flowey is gone.

 

He will soon have duties to perform, and he can accomplish nothing by sitting still.

 

(He’s a little disappointed that he let himself be so affected. Normally, Flowey won’t even notice, caught up in his plan for revenge.)

 

>=< >=<

 

Papyrus runs alongside the conveyor belts. He needs to follow them to reach New Home, but almost nothing can persuade him to use them directly. He’s clasping his phone in his hand - soon, it will be time to call the others, tell them quick, we need to stop King Asgore and the human from fighting each other!

 

After the human entered the lab, Flowey showed up again, right on cue, to provide Papyrus with further instructions (that he knew already, but he's not supposed to). Upon doing so, Flowey slipped away once more, and Papyrus isn’t sure where he’s gone.

 

But that doesn’t matter. Papyrus knows what will happen next. The human will face Asgore, the fight will be interrupted before it even starts, everyone will gather in the place past the throne room...

 

Flowey will take the human souls. Take nearly all the monsters’ souls.

 

Take his soul.

 

It’s not hard to figure out what happens, even when he’s not consciously aware of what’s going on. A flower, talking flower, there’s only one that looks like that. Pain in his arm, a soft snap-

 

-help the human, protect them-

 

-the world spinning around, bright colours, too bright, then there’s something blocking his view and he can’t see-

 

One hand flies to his chest (the other grips the phone harder so as not to drop it). Something’s throbbing inside- (he doesn’t have a heart, is it his soul?) -through his skull, pounding, pain.

 

Unable to concentrate on remaining afloat, he drops. He’s thankful that he’s reached a patch of solid ground to land on.

 

Breathe, breathe. Don’t think about it anymore.

 

It won’t do him any good to.

 

Because it hurts, and sometimes, sometimes he just wants to tell Flowey “I won’t do this for you, I know what you’re planning and I won’t go along with it.”

 

And then he wonders just how selfish he can get. To take everyone’s happy ending away, and for what? An unbroken arm? Proof of what he knows?

 

He was the one who chose to reveal his strength to Flowey, so many timelines before. To keep quiet about his knowledge, and thus appear gullible, easily manipulated.

 

What happens next is no one’s fault but his own. It’s only right that he's the one to pay the price.

 

Chapter 4: Quiet Water

Notes:

And another chapter! This is probably the longest of them, so far. Papyrus is still not having a good time. I don't think he's going to in this fic; I'm sorry.
This was originally going to take place during the Pacifist ending, to continue from the previous chapter, but it didn't fit the theme of the other chapters.
I think I was going to say something else here, but I can't remember what it was.

Chapter Text

“WHAT!? HOW DID YOU AVOID MY TRAP?” Papyrus demands. “AND, MORE IMPORTANTLY... IS THERE ANY LEFT FOR ME?”

 

He knows the answer, but he still asks.

 

The human stands, feet planted in the snow, and appears to consider their options. There’s a faint spatter of white on their hair and shirt. They’ve killed someone. Papyrus isn’t sure whom, yet, which means it happened before they came out of the Ruins.

 

The human nods slightly, as if affirming their decision.

 

I ate the spaghetti, they answer, an almost forced smile on their face.

 

And it’s from that expression that Papyrus can tell: they aren’t lying just to spite him. They don’t want to hurt his feelings, by telling him they didn’t eat it (couldn’t eat it).

 

They’re not the only one who does that, so he can’t fault them for it. He, himself, does it; he has no right to blame anyone for lying to him.

 

So when he answers them, (“REALLY!? WOWIE... NO ONE’S EVER ENJOYED MY COOKING BEFORE...“”) he keeps all trace of disappointment out of his voice (and how ironic, for him to prefer it when they say they haven’t eaten his spaghetti).

 

“I, MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE YOU ALL THE PASTA YOU COULD EVER WANT!” he says. And he will. He’ll do it over, and over, and over; even if the most they will ever have is a small bite.

 

Papyrus leads the way to the next puzzle. As he strides, he thinks to himself; there’s no need to get too upset over one single false answer. He should be used to lies, by now. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll tell him the truth the next time they have a chance to.

 

>=< >=<

 

Papyrus knocks on Undyne’s door.

 

Then knocks again.

 

And again.

 

After which, he stops; if Undyne doesn’t answer him by now, it generally means she’s not going to.

 

So... she’s gone. He breathes out, in the kind of sigh that is filled with so much that it's painful. He didn’t “watch” the fight, this time. He doesn’t do that much, anymore. It’s harder to pull himself together after actually seeing it happen.

 

But even if he hasn’t seen it, the knowledge is bad enough on its own. (He’s slumping against the door, a hand pressed to his forehead, as if trying to keep it all inside his head, where it won’t affect his body.) He has the memories of seeing it before, after all.

 

And it’s a realisation that, no matter how many times it comes, hurts. (He slides down, until he’s sitting against the door; eyes directed at the ground, but not focusing.) It must have hurt far more for her, he tells himself. It doesn’t work.

 

It’s a dull pain somewhere inside his ribs; trying to rise up behind his eyes, make everything blurry, heat the edges of his sockets until the tears are running down his face. (He draws his knees up, buries his face between them, wraps his arms around to block the rest of his view until all he can see is the black of his bones.)

 

But even if all he he wants to do is lie down, and sob, until everything is over and she can come back, he can’t.

 

Because the human will return, and talk to him. They’ll call, and ask for his help. And he can’t let them down. No matter what they have done.

 

Because if he doesn’t believe in them, despite it all, then isn’t that the same as saying that he doesn’t think that anyone can change, become a better person, if they just try?

 

So he doesn’t cry, doesn’t let the tears form; instead, he sits there for a short time, listening to the calm music around him, sees nothing but black. And when he feels he’ll be able to talk without breaking down, he pulls himself to his feet, makes his legs hold still, and stands in front of the house that belonged to the head of the Royal Guard, until the human comes back to it.

 

And he waits for them to come.

 

>=< >=<

 

When they arrive, they round the corner slowly, the apprehension on their face turning to surprise as they see that he is there, but that nothing else has changed. He smiles at them, as always, and watches them as they step forward, to examine first the dummy, then the door (there’s guilt on their face, after that), and then finally turn to him.

 

“HEY!” he greets them. “READY TO HANG OUT WITH UNDYNE?”

 

They don’t answer.

 

“GREAT! ME TOO!” He pauses, then continues, “HOWEVER, SHE’S NOT HERE.”

 

The human still says nothing, but the expression on their face speaks for them. What are you saying? You don’t know what I’ve done?

 

“NORMALLY SHE RETURNS AT ABOUT THIS TIME.” She does, when she’s alive.

 

“SHE’S LATE THOUGH... AND SHE’S NOT ANSWERING HER PHONE.” His grin slips, just a little, as he says this; he forces himself to brighten up. “HOW STRANGE.”

 

The human seems pained, at this point; their smile isn’t genuine, and they’re shaking slightly. They lift their hands and let them drop a few times, as if debating whether to tell him the truth.

 

And seeing that, Papyrus can’t bring himself to make them do it.

 

He speaks up again, firmly, grin pasted on his face; “I’LL JUST WAIT HERE UNTIL SHE GETS HOME.” (What else is he supposed to say, again?) “I’LL CALL YOU WHEN SHE GETS HERE, OKAY!?”

 

By the time he’s finished talking, relief is showing on their face. They smile brightly at him, then. (though it’s still not quite real)

 

Okay! I’m sure she’ll get back soon.

 

They’re gone, running back in the direction of Hotland, before he speaks again.

 

“...Yeah,” the words are voiced quietly, to himself and no one else, here where none will hear him. “She’ll be back soon.”

 

Undyne will come back. She’s not dead forever.

 

But it still hurts.

 

Perhaps it might not hurt so much if Papyrus stopped caring. If he just... gave up.

 

But he can’t do that. Because he needs to be there for the one who has.

 

Chapter 5: An Ending

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Don’t give up.

 

The human punches, again and again, until he dies.

 

Undyne confronts the human in a cold fury. She lives.

 

When they’ve answered Sans’s question, they go back, and give a different answer.

 

They reset, after that, so it’s not hard for Papyrus to guess the reason he was killed.

 

Don’t give up.

 

It hurts to see Undyne like this (again). Even her eyes, usually so full of energy, are dull, devoid of life.

 

“Papyrus...“ she says, “revenge won’t bring anyone back.”

 

He almost wishes that he had been the one to die. At least his death fills her with rage, rather than this hopelessness that is so unlike her.

 

Don’t give up.

 

“WHAT IS IT, FRISK?” he asks.

 

They want to know why he said he couldn’t see him when they went behind the waterfall.

 

The next time they call him, and he’s lost sight of them, he doesn’t answer.

 

Don’t give up.

 

He starts the Flowey Fanclub (again).

 

Flowey hasn’t hurt anyone, this time. Papyrus hopes it lasts.

 

Don’t give up.

 

The human loses, again and again, until he lets them go.

 

They come to his house to hang out.

 

Undyne is not pleased.

 

They come to her house to hang out.

 

She doesn’t think they’re too bad, after that.

 

Don’t give up.

 

Mettaton is a dangerous ruler.

 

Too many people have gone missing after claiming they don’t like his show for it to be a coincidence.

 

Papyrus wishes Undyne were still here.

 

Don’t give up.

 

There are vines wrapped around his bones, squeezing his skull until it cracks.

 

Flowey laughs, a hollow sound with no force behind it.

 

Papyrus doesn’t struggle. He’s tried to before. It never works.

 

As his body collapses to dust, he looks Flowey in the eyes, and smiles.

 

Flowey still doesn’t believe he can do better. Papyrus knows he can.

 

Don’t give up.

 

“LABRADOR..Y? DOES THAT MEAN THERE ARE DOGS INSIDE?”

 

Sans believes Papyrus is genuinely confused. He sneaks in an unsubtle hint of his own when he replies.

 

It doesn’t occur to him that Papyrus is doing the same thing.

 

There is a bright side to everything, including being underestimated by one’s own sibling.

 

Don’t give up.

 

He isn’t fit to be king.

 

>=< >=<

 

Sometimes, Papyrus wonders if he’s already given up; repeating the same actions, over and over, not breaking from routine even to try and improve the situation.

 

But to everyone else, he’s confident.

 

Oblivious.

 

Happy.

 

And to him, that’s a success. As long as they are content to hold this image of him, he will keep up appearances, and no one will ever know.

 

But sometimes, he wonders how it would be, if he weren’t alone, if someone did know.

 

Perhaps one day, he will have the opportunity to find out.

 

[THE END]

Notes:

And, we're done!
Things did not get better for Papyrus. I don't think this particular fic was built for happiness. (I'm sorry, to everyone that wanted it to end happily for him ;-;)

However, for those who haven't seen my blog, there is a little thing I am working on (the original idea for the fourth chapter), with some slightly happier interaction between Frisk and Papyrus (mainly because they're being honest with him). I'll probably put it up here when I've finished it, if anyone would like to read it.