Daddy's a Serial Killer

Chapter 28 - Field Of Memories

There was a weird feeling to be looking at a younger version of yourself. Not literally, of course. No matter how many time shenanigans happened Sans never did have to confront little Sans. No, he just had to confront stupid ugly lazy Sans, the Sans that lived in his mind and whispered horrible, disgusting things about himself to make his self-hatred grow. The stupid ugly lazy Sans that his therapist told him was a filthy liar and that should not be trusted. Not in that tone, and not in that way. His therapist was nicer when they described it.

He's grown, a lot. And that was ever so apparent when he gently let Helen lean against him for the basic support the man desperately needed.

Self-growth was a weird thing. Sans found himself looking back so often, at the skeleton he was before, and wondering. Just... wondering. Thinking. Sans was still fucked up and broken. Still traumatized. Sometimes he still had flashing memories of that little girl on that warm school day all over again. And the pain returned. But only in an echo of its former self, as if beaten down by the many times he's faced it.

It was incredible to have so many people around him who dealt with emotions like his. Situations he'd never understand. Mental health is so complex no single diagnosis could cover the levels of uniqueness they had. He learned different opinions. Different coping techniques. Different ways to deal with it. And he learned how to help others.

And here he was, one hand around Helen's shoulders as he gently held him. Held the younger version of himself, who was as fucked up as he once was but unable to let go. Who gave one long look to Sans after he asked that question before and said a solid "No" before he burst down crying.

"Is there a way to make it stop hurting?" Helen asked, his voice strained. His hands clutched at the blanket, as if fearful to lose Sans' contact. "Make it stop. It hurts."

"Uh... it never does stop hurting. That's the weird thing with mental health." Sans patted his shoulder, awkwardly holding Bean with one hand and the large man next to him with another. "When you spiral, it hurts. And then you lock yourself off. Wrap yourself in blankets and think about it, because that's all you want to do and all you can do. But thoughts can be mean, so while you lock out everyone else, you just lock in the thoughts." Sans leaned his skull to the side, watching Bean stare up at him. "Then you hate yourself just as much as you did before. It's the same. Just now you have no one else to listen to but that voice."

"I... yeah." Helen glanced down. "Yeah."

"There's no happy button. There's no happy person. I thought there was before," Sans said. "My mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was depressed. Super depressed. Hated me, hated my clothes, couldn't clean my room, and blamed myself for it. Said I didn't need therapy because it didn't work or because I was just being a lazy slob. But then... there was my bro. Loved 'em. Loved him so much. He made me happy so I thought he was my key. Every time I was with him I hated myself less and that made me feel good. So I thought 'hey, this is my ticket to happiness. If I just stay near him, I'll be happy forever. I don't need anyone else but him'. I..."

Sans paused. Their relationship was doomed from the start, huh? Sans didn't realize how much he needed Papyrus. And how much that was destined to stab him in the back.

"There is no trick to this shit. That's what I mean. No single therapy session makes me happy. No single person exists in my life to drive away the thoughts. It's easier with other people. It's helpful with therapy. But there's no fix, no magic code or savior. It takes time. And support. And a lot of shitty internet memes at three in the morning, or horrible puns that your friends hate but accept anyway because they make you happy. It's work."