Frail Reality - [Deltarune | Sans x Reader]

Chapter Two | The Lantern (Part 2 of 2)

          You return to your apartment with a clouded mind and existential dread clawing at your stomach, churning breakfast around like it's going through a twister.

          But then you open the door and step in to be greeted by a neat and tidy living room, and that dread is overcome by surprise.

          Though neither Frisk's new friends nor they themself seem to be home – further confirmed by the shoe rack having your sandals on it only – there's a sticky note on a coffee table explaining they've gone out to meet more neighbours. And with your worry over where they could be dissipating, you take this opportunity to look at the changes more closely. The living room, while still relatively unfurnished, has been freed from dust bunnies and cobwebs – even the floor looks to have been mopped. Aside from that, the coffee table isn't yours, and that leads to a question you would need to ask later. Then, there's a pair of bean bags that are also not your property, and you make a quick mental checklist to ask about that later, too.

          For now, you want to lie down on one of those two seats and rest your thoughts for a while. One's bright yellow and patterned with ducks all over. The other's a brighter pink, with a dark red plaid pattern for contrast. It's safe to say the right choice would be the one that clearly doesn't look like it belongs to an elementary schooler, yet… It's the one that looks most comfortable. Regardless, you resist, as it's not like you're going to be resting for long. You need to see how much Frisk and their friends cleaned up and what there's left for you to do. Groceries would be one of the main things on that mental checklist, though…

          You find it hard to believe you've been given free groceries to prepare today's dinner.

           "If you wanna feel less guilty about me taking care of you, then you should avoid going anywhere today. Rest up and do what you need to do tomorrow," Sans had stated before you left his place, placing the bag in your hands and seeing you off – like you've known each other since ages ago.

          And now that you have time to look at what's inside, you plop down on the less comfy-looking bean bag and pull out the first thing you touch.

          You take everything out and distribute the items on the coffee table. Then, you analyze the ingredients: white rice, canned vegetables, vegetarian sausage links, various spices, cooking oil, and a bag of red apples. At the bottom, there's two mini, ready-made cherry pies, along with a note reading: "i asked frisk what they wanted for dinner. bone appetit. have them help you cook, and don't do anything else after that. unless you wanna borrow another shirt. you'd have to wear the one that says 'helpful meatballs' next."

          And there's that.

          As if you haven't yet accepted the fact a practical stranger has seen things you have shown no one else but your husband since being widowed, you have to accept you've been given more help than you could possibly give in return. 

          You sincerely doubt Sans still feels like he needs to make up for what he said, so you check your bank account balance on your phone, calculating a tentative budget to pay him back somehow. Separating at least ten or twenty would be a likely good enough amount for now, and then maybe you could simply tip him whenever you go to his grocery store – if he even lets you in after what he's gone through. Though you admit to being spiteful every so often, burdening someone to such degrees doesn't match with whatever plans for revenge you had in mind. Ignoring him or deflecting remarks like the one he'd made to you yesterday would've been your choice – and not having him act as your doctor by obligation. Facing him tomorrow to properly thank him will be difficult, as so will be actually finding him a gift to thank him with.