The Smell of Old Books (Sans/Reader)

Intrusive, Disruptive

You felt yourself wake up slowly, feeling the grogginess and restlessness that came along with it.

Sitting up from your bed cautiously, you feel yourself yawn loudly as you stretch your arms. That sleep had felt like it only lasted a half an hour, perhaps an hour at best. Although you felt a smidge bit more rested than you had when you first fallen asleep, you still were perpetually exhausted.

Trying to wake up, you shook your head vigorously to get rid of the remaining tiredness in your body. Like, sure, you were tired but it was damn near impossible to go to back to sleep.

It was then you realized what time it exactly was.

You had slept for exactly two hours.
Which made it a little past two in the morning.

Holy damn.

You threw off the quilt from your body and got off of your bed. You walked over to the window and opened it up slightly, the sounds of harsh rain sounding like arrows on a battlefield. The smell of the rain was wonderful, and the coolness of the cold weather felt nice on your body.

Events from earlier started resurfacing in your mind, but you tried your best to avoid them.

Besides, you felt just a tiny bit better than you had just a few hours ago. That alone likely made you feel more tolerable to yourself, more understanding and clear-minded about the earlier situation. (And not being depressed and feeling utterly hopeless was an added bonus.)

Sans likely just had a stressful day.

You had a weird day too.

So, it was good.

You were fine.

Not fine, but... Like. The situation wasn't as dire as your brain had made it to be? You didn't feel quite sure on how you felt, but taking a little break from it was much needed.

You looked to your desk and sadly noted you had drank all of your juice earlier that night.

You sighed. You quietly opened the door, careful not to make a creaking noise, to head into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

It was then, and only then, you noted sounds of soft talking from that exact place you were headed. Oddly, you felt yourself stop walking. You walked halfway back into your room, just out enough so you could hear and see what was going on.

Sans sat at the counter, his feet has puffy pink slippers adorned on them.

He was talking to someone on the phone, the sounds of the conversation were just barely audible from where you stood. Just barely enough so you could hear what he was saying, and how he was saying it.

"look, i'm not sure what to do," The skeleton's voice sounded tired, confused, maybe even a bit angry.

"this whole drama?" Sans inquired to the person on the phone, "you mean where my friend got freaking shot? is that menial monster drama to you?"

Sans sighed, "i know. it's affecting you too. i'm sorry."

"i'm just stressed," Sans doesn't even make a pun, a joke, anything to lighten up the tension, "some kid followed me after work today, saying he was gonna call the cops if i did anything monster-y. along with that, the police still haven't found _____'s shooter."

"she just barely took off the bandages. hell of a scar, if you ask me," Sans mumbled, "she's been a trooper though, i probably would've walked off by now. seems like too much drama for someone so..."

"hey, that's my business," Sans finally cracks a smirk.

"no," He inhales deeply, "i just don't want things to get worse. it's already pretty shit from where we're at, it'd be a surprise that it could get any worse... but, y'know how that sort of thinking works."