Wilted [ Sans x Flowerfell! Reader ]

/11\

It was time.

A part of you had always known this, that someday, your journey would end. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, you would always end up in the same place. Sans had picked up on this, wordlessly assisting you in gathering your few possessions. What was the point in bringing them, anyway? You would be dead in a matter of days.

Your strength had begun to deplete at an alarming rate, tasks like walking up the stairs and even breathing had become laborious as the flowers continued to sap on the few ounces of strength you had left.

"I-I..."

You froze suddenly at Sans' voice, as if he had simply become background noise to the events at hand, and any sudden noise was completely unexpected. A wall of silence had manifested between the two of you, derived out of self-pity and hatred for events yet to come -

(and what would have been)

and all at once, he had forced it to come crumbling down.

"Yes?" you asked cautiously, as if Sans had not spoken at all, and the corse of events was simply driving you insane.

"D-Do we have to?" His voice shook ever so slightly. It was like balancing on the tip of an iceberg, one push could send him over the edge, and there was no coming back from that.

M-Maybe today I'll finally have the courage to do it.

You shook off distant memories. In a matter of hours, monsterkind would be free, and a joint domination over the Surface between humans and monsters would lead to a glorious new age. One I won't be able to see through, you thought sourly and gave Sans a reassuring smile. "Won't you smile?" you shook your head weakly, forcing a smile.

You felt it waver, and perhaps, you realized, he wasn't the only one balancing on the tip of the iceberg.

And so the two of you slowly trudged out the door, Sans shutting it. There was a sort of finality to it, the entire Underground, things both living and inanimate, realizing that life would no longer inhabit these dusty caverns. There was a sense of hope, underlying the hatred and coldness that plagued this world, at the thought of your death. Along with the Barrier would come an end to an age, an end to Chara's grip on the monsters that inhabited this timeline.

Wind whipped through your hair and you shuddered slightly, Sans' jacket no longer providing the warmth it once had for you. Now it seemed to be a physical burden, reminding you of the future the two of you could never share together.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as the two of you entered through Waterfall. You hadn't meant for it to be heard, but a nearby echo flower picked it up, relaying the message over and over again for what could be an eternity, serving as an eerie background noise to the soft flow of the river.

Your foot caught on a rock and you fell face-first on the ground. You groaned slightly, what would have been only a minor impact magnified by your weakened state. You felt alarm pulse off Sans as he helped you up. "I'm okay," you murmured, taking another step forwards.

"Don't you want to stay here for the night? A little longer - " His voice cracked on the last part, realizing that there would be no staying. You had only hours to live, not weeks of even days. Your life ended at the hands of the Barrier, in which your soul would join the others that had been collected by Asgore.

Hand in hand, the two of you maneuvered through the wet marshlands, through the fiery lavas of Hotland, and eventually, the neutral environment of the Capitol. Here, it seemed as if this place had been cut off completely, sealed off from the cultures and festivities of the Underground. A foreboding atmosphere echoed from every corridor, expressing the sorrows of a lost age.

History does repeat itself, you thought grimly and took another step forward. Your left hand began to shake involuntarily, the first sign of an impending seizure. A small fire burned within you, the same flame that you had cursed every day for keeping you alive, determination, forced the seizure down, forced you to keep going.

There was no sign of Chara, as if she too had retreated from the Underground. However, a part of you knew that this was not the case, that she would be back one day, whether it be in this world or the next.

Sans said nothing, only guiding you through a series of hallways and for what you thought for one second, a home that was identical to Toriel's in the Ruins. There was still the linger of butterscotch pie, serving as a ghost of the past.

"He said..."

"We don't have to do this," Sans' voice was urgent now. You felt him tug lightly at your sleeve. "[Y/N], please, let's just go back to Snowden."

With a slight gasp, your knees gave way. You found yourself sinking on a patch of buttercup flowers, similar to the patch in the Ruins. Nearby, you could make out the roar of some magical force, the Barrier, you assumed it to be.

"Oh Mary contrary, how does your garden grow?"

Your life was depleting rapidly now, but a sudden calmness had engulfed you. For the first time in the Underground, you welcomed death.

"Come with me and you'll be the seventh maid in row."

With another tremor, you felt your soul lift from your body. A breeze flew by as one by one, six of the other souls joined yours. Whispers whipped around you, depicting the tales of the children who had experienced the same fate you were going through. In the distance, a distinct cracking noise could be heard as one by one, the souls dissipated to destroy the Barrier.

"My answer was laughter, soft as I lowered my head..."

"Breathe, okay?"

Sans was leaning over your lifeless form, watching as you raised a shaking hand to brush a lone tear from his face. "A-Always be kind..." you murmured, trying your best to contain the sobs that threatened to escape you.

"Sweetheart, you're not making any sense..."

"Be good..." you whispered and then mumbled another phrase, your last words that would forever go unheard.

"Can you say that last part again?" Sans asked softly, leaning towards you. With a shaking hand, you wrapped him in a feeble hug as you felt your grip on this world loosen. You pressed your forehead against his.

Slowly, your body began to sink in with the ground, creating an imprint of buttercup flowers where you had been lying only seconds ago.

"I didn't...

quite...

...catch that."

"You're too late, I'm afraid. The flower's already dead~'"