Story: Forty Seven

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You bite your lip, hard enough to draw blood, as you jerk awake.
The room is eerily silent, and you turn and glance at Sans. He's alseep, hands folded neatly on his chest, chin pressed against his sternum, and you're instantly reminded of a corpse.
Quickly shaking the thought off, you roll onto your back and stare up at ceiling. Another nightmare.
Is it stress? Maybe that's why I can't get a full nights sleep.

Sans takes a deep breath, and rolls onto his side, facing you, one hand under his head and the other encircling your waist as he snuggles closer.

"Go to sleep." He mummers.

"I'm trying to." You whisper back.

He smiles, eyes still closed. "Not hard enough, it seems."

You laugh at that, and touch his mouth, the very corner, where his smile is most prominent. You've wanted to do this for awhile, but couldn't get up the nerve.

"I said sleep, not explore."

You ignore him and trail your fingers up to his eyesockets, which are open now. You touch the injured one.

"Sans..."

"Hm...?"

"What happened to Frisk's back?"

He shifts a bit, leaning up on his elbows. ".... (Y/n), it's the middle of the night."

"So? We're both up."

He looks away, bringing a hand uo to his mouth and covering it. "I-.... why?"

"Why what?" You ask instantly.

"Why do you want to know? I mean, I already told you-"

You sit up also. "But did that really happen? Was it dogs?"

He stays silent before whispering, "no."

"Did you-?"

"No!" He snaps. "I didn't. Whatever, or whoever said it, is fucking lying. It wasn't a dog, that's for sure, I mean, have you seen those scars?" He corrects himself. "Of course not. But it wasn't a dog, and I don't know who did it!"

You lay back against the pillows. ".... I didn't say anyone told me."

He goes silent.

".... you're pretty defensive about this for not having anything to do with it."

He didn't answer once again.

"Did you... really, honestly have no part in that?"

He looks conflicted now. "I...."

"Please don't lie."

".... no. I mean, yes, I did have a part in it, but it wasn't- it wasn't me-" He chokes up. "I-I didn't do it on purpose. She just- I was only-"

"Sans. Calm down."

He sits up all the way. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- sh-she said that it was- that she understood...." He starts scratching at his arm, and goes silent.

"...so you... did?"

He slowly nods.

"... what happened?"

"She said.... that it wasn't safe... to let me into her home." He whispered. "H-he- I got mad. I got really mad- I'd gotten into a fight earlier that day, so I was already- mad? Angry, really pissed."

You chew on your lips, and softly whisper, "That's the only- ... you were mad?"

He doesn't answer, and only says, "I didn't mean to."

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