Chapter Text
"How many are there, exactly?"
"Um. Uh. Wait, lemme just.."
The bustling road outside makes it hard for you to concentrate.
"Two.. four.. six..."
It's not really a surprise, seeing as you're sitting by the window and all. The empty plates, on which once resided simple but delicious slices of cake, are distracting as well as the stained cups of coffee and hot cocoa respectively.
"I think it must be around ten. Five pairs of brothers in total, not counting this one, obviously."
The unimpressed way Amber looks at you right now is nothing short of nerve-wracking, so you turn your head slightly into the direction of the beforementioned "this one". Just enough to not seem like you're obviously observing him, just enough not to hurt your eyes.
The sheer cold her next words carry would scare you immensely, but you're kind of too distracted for that.
"You're fucking shitting me right now."
If not for your menace of a cousin, the beanie he wears makes you shudder. In a different season, maybe, you would consider it quite comfortable looking. But midsummer?
"I wish I was." You say absentmindedly.
Although, you do know skeletons don't really get affected by temperatures.
You would know.
You've heard enough insufferable puns about that.
This sinking feeling is familiar and visits you frequently, so you're not surprised to still feel that, and your heart aching.
He left you. He, with his pearly white and toothy smile, with his pranks and puns and all his sciency fun facts. His pokey hugs and his awesome eyes, the feeling of vertigo and for six years, how time flies.
Then, he left you.
"Y'know what? I'm tired of questioning him. Clearly, he's got a weird way of coping with things."
You snort humorlessly.
"You're saying that like we haven't been blaming his weird coping mechanisms for everything."
Suddenly realizing her mistake, Amber sheepishly starts to peer at the skeleton, too.
"Fuck, I'm sorry," she mutters, "How are you feeling? How are things going with him anyway?"
Ah. Seems like this alternate version of him has noticed your gazes. The moment both of you realize it, you lock eyes with your cousin.
"Uh.."
Nervously, you start picking at the leftover crumbs with your fork instead.
"I dunno." You say halfheartedly.
To be honest with yourself would be breaking your streak. For the first time since he left you, you've been doing so well.
Sure, you might be bottling up your feelings right now, but you'll be fine, you tell yourself.
It's been two years already, isn't that enough time to get over it?
Deep down, you know the answer is no.
Not for the six years before he broke up with you. And as far as you can tell, there's other people for you out there, but you simply don't care for it.
All this time, you've wanted him.
But he shut you out.
And he chose another.
"I'm fine."
You smile to yourself.
"We're fine."
You know she's giving you that pitying look.
"It doesn't matter, really."
"Of course it does—"
"He doesn't care anymore." She's reaching for your hand, but you don't feel like holding hers. "Maybe as a friend, sure, but that doesn't help me at all, does it?"
You look up and find yourself facing his manic grin.
You're.. tired.
Not even the way this newcomer tugs at his void eyesocket, nor the bloodred color filling up the other and finally, when he gets up from his bar stool northeast from you and stands up, even then, you can't bring yourself to shake in fear like your dear Amber does.
He doesn't need more than four big steps to reach your quaint little table.
This skeleton's quite the giant.
Faintly, you can hear your cousin whisper-shouting your name to get your attention, but you're having this unexpected staring contest, so your eyes stay glued on his face.
When he halts right in front of you, you don't hesitate.
"Hi."
This must be one hell of a show for Amber, huh?
You would love to see her facial espression right now, because you rarely get to see her stoic facade crumble into a shaken mess.
But you won't risk the glance.
After a few beats of silence, his voice grumbles out, "hey. how'd you.."
Tug, tug.
"..know me?"
You think you see your cousin flail her arms desperately in the corner of your eye.
"I don't," you say matter-of-factly.
He tilts his head adorably. (Adorably, huh?)
"hm."
When he blinks at you, you blink back.
You can't see much lower than his shoulders and his chest. He's too tall and your head is tilted up enough to look him in the face and to not see past the tattered beginnings of his sleeves and the washed out color of his hood.
The blue hoodie seems a little bit too familiar and so does he, in a different way than the other alternate versions of your..
of..
..this timeline's older skeleton brother.
This version seems so damaged, in a way.
The possible horrors he must've went through pierce a shot of sadness and empathy through the tired mist in your chest.
You hope he finds it better here.
In an attempt to get this conversation to progress further you ask, "So, what's your name?"
In other words, what is your nickname, because you know damn well what he must've been called by the folks in his own timeline. Even as he makes a show of tapping his chin, you don't suspect a thing about his next words. Foolishly.
"you.. can.. call me.."
His smile widens and his bloodred eyelight pulses.
"sans."
"You—" You catch yourself.
It's hard, too hard, to hear his name.
Even after so long.
Suddenly, you can't breathe anymore, your chest tightens in a concerning manner, there's a raging storm within your mind.
It's been a bit too long, hasn't it?
Why do you still care?
Why can't you stop caring?
It's pathetic, how the mere mention of his name can crumble you into nothingness.
Your hand is starting to hurt, with how tight you're holding onto your fork. You do find the sting quite fitting to the ache flaring up within your soul, though.
Then, you almost laugh at yourself.
It's been two years! Two years is two years too long—
—And you're sick.
You're fucking sick of this.
You don't care anymore. You don't— or maybe you do, but it doesn't matter, it never has.
So what if this will be the worst choice of your life?
Who cares. He certainly won't.
At some point you must've torn your gaze away, because you have to tilt your head up again after you've made your decision.
You introduce yourself and smile your best smile.
"It's nice to meet you, Sans."
_____________
The memories, you've never been able to escape.
You might never will.
But you can make new ones, no?
...
You do admit, you're not fine at all.
But, today, you have decided.
You will be.