Lights Like Stars (Sans x Reader)

33 - Tears

In which grieving and planning fight for attention.

You

Your landing is much rougher than expected. The rift spits you and Papyrus out at an awkward angle with a rather higher velocity than you're accustomed to. You land hard on your shoulder and skid briefly across the asphalt, tearing your denim jacket, though thanks to the durable material, your skin is protected. Then Papyrus lands on top of you, accidentally elbowing you in the kidney. For a moment, the two of you lay there and groan.

It's like the void hates you for not being Sans.

Oh, god, Sans!

You throw Papyrus off of you and scramble to your feet, your fists coming up, automatically bracing for a fight. Of course, there's no one to fight. You've landed in the street a few blocks away from where you parked. You don't know if Sans overshot the car in his haste, or if 'porting is less reliable if Sans isn't there to act as an escort. Maybe he chose to send the two of you so far because he couldn't be sure how wide the riot's sphere of influence was.

"OUCH." Papyrus drags himself to his own feet, rubbing his ribs. "THOSE PEOPLE WERE VERY INCONSIDERATE! I AM SORRY, SISTER. THEY MUST HAVE THOUGHT YOU WERE SOMEONE ELSE." It isn't until he says it that you realize most of the hits aimed at you came from monsters. Your brain hadn't even made the distinction. At least they hadn't been throwing magic around. Magical attacks would have been devastating in such a tightly-packed crowd.

"It's okay, everyone was panicking," you respond hollowly. "I'm sure they weren't thinking clearly. Besides, monsters are so different from each other, humans probably all look the same to you guys."

"WELL, THAT IS TRUE SOMETIMES. BUT IT STOPS BEING TRUE ONCE YOU GET TO KNOW ONE!"

"Why hasn't Sans followed us yet?" You start to pace back and forth a little, chewing on a fingernail. "What's he doing? He's hurt! He should get out of there!"

"DO NOT WORRY, THEIR MAJESTIES WILL HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL SOON."

You blink at Papyrus.

He doesn't know. He was focused on protecting you. He must not have seen what you saw.

You start shaking and suddenly it all comes crashing down on you: spent adrenaline, sharp, sudden grief, a deep, cold fear for Sans, all alone and hurt, too far away to reach. He should be here by now. Something must have gone wrong.

Your shaking has gotten so hard you have to sit down on the curb. "Oh, god, Papyrus, Asgore, he... he's..." You choke on the words, can't get them out. You're so, so tired, you feel so very weak, but you pull yourself back to your feet and start walking, one shaky step at a time, back towards the fairgrounds. "If Sans isn't coming, we'll go get him." Papyrus, uncommonly but understandably silent, follows you like a forlorn puppy.

* * * * *

The fairgrounds are quiet when you arrive long minutes later. The chaos probably died down right after Sans sent you away. Right after Asgore was killed, you think. The fighting must have stopped as quickly as it began, the people that started it slipping away into the twilight under cover of the confusion they caused. Most of the people that started it, anyway. You can see a human in handcuffs being ushered into the back of a police car at the edge of the scene, and through the window of the car you can see another shadowy shape already in the backseat. The cops have their work cut out for them: there aren't that many on duty in a town this size, and it will take a little while for the off-duty officers and state troopers to arrive. Until then, a few police and a couple of EMTs are doing the best they can to help the injured, cordon off the area with police tape, and take statements. Toriel, hollow-eyed and wrapped in a trauma blanket, is giving a statement to one officer. Her face is streaked with tears. You know you should go to her, try to comfort her or at least be with her, but your selfish feet betray you by taking you across the fairgrounds instead. There certainly aren't enough cops present yet to stop you and Papyrus from marching right back to the stage.