Why Not? [Frans And Sarisk Oneshot Book]

{Five Minutes}

A/n: Heyya'll, pinksterz!💕

Did cha miss me?

You: Did you seriously have to ask us that every fricking time you show up?!

o-o I guess that's both a yes and a no.

Anyways, I'm back from such an unexpected hiatus-it wasn't a hiatus. -_- It's obviously because no one said Why Not? in the previous chapter. I'm not mad it's just, nothing's gonna happen in this book if no one completes the keys, I've mentioned this to you all, didn't I? ☺

Plus, those words, even just those tiny words are my fuel, my motivation to continue, my determination, so spam flooding the comment section with 'Why Not?' is highly appreciated-😆

But I'm also kinda grateful for this at some point, since I got rest, and worked better on school so... Yet school has finally ended this July, so expect me flooding your notifs with story updates, natch! 😄 hehe, maybe.. 😭

Anyways, I present you a free open chapter, just as a revival for this seemingly dead book.😊

Enjoy, pinksterz!💕

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Three hundred seconds.

She seeks for it.

Five more minutes, she wished time would be generous to give. Yet however, more than five minutes was all that she received.

There past three hundred seconds, five minutes, a day, five weeks, a month, five years, a decade... The same as ever, her routine seemed to be.

She'd quietly sit in their blue-tiled dining area, on a creaking, wooden, white rocking chair, humming a sweet tune as she knitted a beautifully hand sewn sweater, a thimble by her thumb, and red rectangular thin-brimmed glasses hung up on her pint nose. Using her weight, she was rocking the seat back-and-forth in sync with the song she hummed.

She wasn't that old, she was on her 40s going 50s. Even so, not much of Mrs. Frisk Gaster's appearance had changed. The same chocolate brown hair down to a neat bun, her smooth fairly pale skin, her amber-glazed golden irises, and the sweet pink smile on her face, they all never left, her radiance was plastered all over her face, it was extraordinary.

Simultaneously, she'd turn her focus on the sweater, then the window, and then back to what she was knitting. After repeated exchanges of concentration, she looked at their old grandfather's clock, to see the hands point to half past noon.

It was time for her to pick up her children from school, but...

"Five more minutes." she sighed, placing her sewing tools and material on the rocking chair's surface as she stood up. She headed after the top cupboard, pulling out a bottle of tomato ketchup. She then places it neatly on the table before her.

Putting both hands on her hips, she watched the clock as five minutes seemed to chase after its end. Just how long does it take for her to merely grab a bottle and set it down soonest after? Time is such an unjustifying swindler, don't you think?

Five minutes was something she knew she shouldn't abuse, but it was that in five minutes, does she really had the determination to be on the move. One time, she was asked if she felt widowed after all these years of waiting, but she disagreed, saying, "If I feel the loving warmth of my dear husband in my arms again, even after 10 years, it would've felt as if I have been waiting for five minutes." she smiled, and all was concerned as she added, "He promised to come back after five minutes. I know it may sound silly, but believe it or not, I do see him."