Bruised To The Bone: (Sans x Reader)

Chapter 13

I sigh and teleport to a bench, staring at the lake. I shouldn't go to talk to Sans; He'd think I'm trying to get with him or kill him or something. I twiddle my thumbs. Great. I came here to relax, and now this is happening.

Sans almost seems to be running laps around the lake. His face is blue, and so are his hands. He looks fairly cold, even though he's wearing his signature blue jacket. Panting, he pauses and looks down at his watch. I notice myself staring, and fixate my gaze on the lake. I try to shift my mind from the comical skeleton, but his blue figure is still in my perpheral vision. As soon as he turns to run down the side of the lake that I was on, his eyes meet mine. A glimpse of panic can be seen on his face, almost immediately replaced by a lazy smirk. He teleports next to me, sitting on the bench.

"Hey, kid. Whatcha doing here?" He says.

"Not a kid, and looking at the lake. Figured I should stop playing video games alone in my house for a while." Sans chuckles, and leans back in the bench.

"Interesting." He pauses. "Ya know, I could play video games with you. So that you'll be playing video games with a friend in your house."

"Sure." I half smirk. "Sounds like a.. Cool idea." Sans grins, the blue dust gone.

"I know. Chilling at your place seems snow fun." I stifle my laughter.

"Tibia honest, those puns are snow humerus. I'm impressed at how ice they are." I joke. Sans begins to laugh.

"Four? That's.. Snow impressive." His laughter rings through the park, and an icicle drops from a tree. He jumps, startled, at the noise. He then notices that it was just an icicle, and his laughter commences.

"Really? An icicle? That's snow sad." I shake my head in mock disappointment. He begins to laugh again, almost falling off of the bench. I join in, amused at the sight. We sit there laughing together for a while. It begins to snow, making me somewhat cold. The wind picks up, and Sans' teeth chatter.

"H-Here, kid. Take my jacket." He slips off his blue, fur lined hoodie, and offers it to me. I look at him in disbelief.

"Dude. That's, like, the thing I hate most." I deadpan.

"What is?" He says, visibly cold.

"People of the male variety offering me their jackets when it's, like, -1000 outside!" I exclaim. Sans slips his jacket back on.

"What's bad about that?"

"Well, first of all, it means that they're treating me like a delicate ceremic plate. Like.. Like I could break at any second, you know? After what I've been through, it's really not a great feeling. Second, it usually leaves the male in question without a jacket, shivering their butt off!"

"I don't have a butt." Sans jokingly points out. I smirk, and continue.

"Third, it makes me feel guilty, taking a person's jacket when they need it. It's like.. If someone's poor and out of a job, and they offer to buy you dinner. Like, no dude! Stop! Keep it for yourself!" I end my rant. Sans is leaning back in the bench, smirking.

"So.. What exactly have you been through, to make you feel such deep hatred against jacket gifts?" He hums, partially intrigued.

"Nothing I want to talk about." By voice rises an octave, tightening. Sans gives me a look.

"Ya know, you can tell me. I won't judge you. I murdered my significant other; Nothing you could've done is worse than that." If only he knew..

"Trust me. It is." My voice cracks, dropping an octave below the usual level. The wind dies down, and Sans stops shivering.

"Well, then I won't judge you. Promise." He coaxes. I take a breath. He's told me his story; I owe it to him to tell him mine.

"So.. In the resets.. The day before, my magic got discovered. So, everytime I wake up to a new restart, my parents beat me bloody. Eventually, after they recited the same speech over and over again, I realized that time was going backwards. I did different things to try to escape, blowing holes in the walls, picking locks.. Then, I decided that it didn't matter. I.. Snapped, you could say." My voice cracks slightly.

"I started doing things that.. You shouldn't do. Things that I wouldn't do without the power to go back. I tried drugs, alcohol, sex. Experimenting with my life. Eventually, after a while of doing whatever, I decided to.. To get back at my parents." My voice goes dry. "I killed them, Sans. I murdered my parents in cold blood for the fun of it." Hot, unshed tears grace my eyelids. I summon my soul. Sans' eyes widen.

"Oh.. That's why." He says quietly, staring at the two most prominent golden cracks.

"They're constant reminders that I.. Murdered my own family. I blasted my father, but my mother.." I choke back a sob. "I tortured my mother. I made her suffer, stabbing bone after bone into her flesh, and then blasting her stomach making her bleed to death." I begin to cry, tormented by the memory of my mother's sickening screech. "I.. I didn't even feel bad, at the time. I felt.. Accomplished. Happy, even. Isn't that sick, Sans? That I enjoyed murdering someone?" I sob into his shoulder, burying my nose into his ketchup scented hoodie.

"Sans.. I'm a monster." I sob. I turn my soul on it's side to reveal 17 black streaks. "I.. These are from when I killed myself. 13 are from.. Right after the murders. I punished myself. After I was dead.. I wouldn't come back until the next restart. 3 are just.. When I didn't want to go through a restart." I point at a particularly long one. "I overdosed for this one.. It hurt a lot, so maybe that's why it's so big. The other one is from.. After the first reset in the Underground. I jumped off of a cliff.. I think it was in Waterfall." I begin to sob more, drenching Sans in my tears.

"Hey. It's okay. It'll be good." He murmurs into my ear. "Here, if it makes you feel better.." He summons his soul. I look at it, speechless. There are countless golden streaks, and even some black. "I killed Frisk so many times.. Until they killed me. The spirit seemed to remember how to beat me, so after the first Bad reset, it just killed me without a cinch." He points to the black ones. "These are when they stopped remembering me.. I decided, screw it. May as well, got nothing else to live for.. You know?" He chuckles dryly.

"That's.." I choke, still shivering from the whole crying thing. "Not good. You have lots of people who care for you, Sans."

"Yeah, but.. T-They don't remember anything we do.. The memories we make." His voice cracks. "Paps and I made a secret language one reset.. He promised he would always wake me up with it.. The next reset, he.. He didn't remember." Sans' voice wavers, jumping from high to low. "One reset, we figured out the world's best spaghetti recipe.. It actually tasted kind of decent. The next reset? Gone." A blue, translucent tear trickles down his face, making a blue trail down his skull. More tears take the trail.

"That's.. I can't imagine that." I put an arm around him, my body still quivering from the aftermath sobs. "I didn't have anyone to make memories with.. I guess some good came from that, now." Sans begins to full on cry. Like, as in big, ugly sobs. I bury my face into his ketchup scented jacket again, hugging him tighter.

"Ya know.." He hiccoughs. "I-I really though that Frisk would be different. That, since they could remember the resets, they could be my rock. My one stable thing.N-Now.. Now they hate me, and are as unstable as you can get.

"Heh.. Look at us." Sans says, still crying. "The only people who can save the world, sitting together on a bench bawling their eyes out." We simultaniously laugh a laugh that makes us seem broken. I snuggled into his jacket, and he into mine, our bodies still heaving with the aftermath of emotions.

And there we sat, two bruised souls, on a bench in a park, drifting into unconsciousness.

A/N: OK OK OK I CAN EXPLAIN! MAYBE! So I had a sleepover, and was tired.. Sorry. Also, tell me if I'm good at writing emotional chapters, or if I should just write the ones where Sans is being a depressed goofball.

Welp, that's it. It's nothing of good quality. Heh. Get it? *Catchphrase in progress*