Chapter Text
After 5 long years, monsters finally got granted full citizenship by the government, which also means they can get jobs and attend schools.
As part of the school discipline committee students, you feel a little responsible to make them feel welcomed into the school. While you don’t think you can help them gain a lot of friends, you hope that you could stop any harm done out of racism from happening to the monster students.
But it’s not as if this city has a lot of monsters to welcome in the first place.
A month and a half into the school year, you hear murmurs going around about Death visiting school. Curious, you ask a kid if they know what’s going on.
“Didn’t you know, teacher?” You roll your eyes at the nickname everyone insists on. You don’t even know why you got it, you’re just a normal student. “There’s apparently a new kid in second year, and it's a skeleton monster.”
You raise your eyebrows, “Really? There’s a monster in the area?” You ask, genuinely wondering.
“Still didn’t see it, so I wouldn’t know.” You twitch at the pronouns used for the monsters.
“When in doubt, use they.”
“What are you, Tumblr?” He says while laughing.
How far back can one roll their eyes?
“Cool, thanks, bye, later,” you quickly dismiss the kid in favour of actually seeing the monster. A skeleton, hm. Didn’t see one of those in the media-- The bell rings, canceling your thoughts and plans. With a sigh, you turn around to head to your class, 1-C.
Looks like you can only hope to see them at lunch today.
Lunch period starts, and you ask around for the whereabouts of the new student.
Surprisingly, you find them still sitting in their class instead of the cafeteria. Unsurprisingly, everyone is avoiding them.
They look like a short skeleton, with what seems to be red eye lights for eyes, wide eye sockets with what seems to be a scar running across their left, and sharp, sharp teeth, wearing a red bandanna, a black jumper with one big horizontal red stripe across the middle, dark jeans, and red sneakers. Everything looks sharp, ironed and sparkling clean, except for the tattered bandanna.
Bored and disconnected are the words you’d use to describe their expression.
As you enter the classroom, eyes on the skeleton, another student calls out to you, “Hey teacher, just ignore it, ‘kay? It didn’t bite anyone yet.” The few kids surrounding him snicker at that.
“Your name, please.” You demand, putting as much authority as you could in your voice.
The student nervously chuckles, “Huh?”
“Please give me your name so I can deliver it to the principal. You know we don’t allow harassment to other students.” While you didn’t let your gaze wander away from the kid, you could see the other students not-so-subtly inching away from the scene.
“I didn’t harass it-”
“Your name.”
“It’s not-”
“Do you prefer to waste your lunch period by going to the principal’s now?”
“... Greg.”
You raise your eyebrows.
He averts his eyes, “G-Greg Smith, 2-A.”
You relax a little. “Okay. If you don’t want me to give your name to the principal, please act towards this student with the respect they deserve.”
“... Okay,” He says with obvious relief, then scrambles away with his friends.
Releasing a breath, you turn back to the skeleton. With a little amusement, you note that they’re very expressive, as they look at you with disbelief.
Smiling, you ask, “What’s your name?”
“Sans River,” He replies immediately (nervously?), voice helping you mentally categorize his gender.
Your smile softens a little, “Hi, Sans.” His eye lights are darting over your face, so very unlike the disconnected look he had a little while ago. You tell him your name in return, continuing, “If anyone bothers you, even a little, you could come tell me and I’ll make them stop, ‘kay?”
He nods, though you couldn’t tell if he actually would come find you.
Now that the class is empty, you’d feel bad about leaving him and going. “Can I sit here with you?” You try not to sound imposing.
“If you would wish?” He still has a hint of nervousness to his voice. Maybe he’s shy? Or, you think as your smile falters, maybe you scared him?
“It’s okay if you don’t want me around, you know.”
“No, no, it is fine!” He raises his voice as he stands up, “I did not mean to imply that, teacher!”
Aha. Ha-ha. You hate that nickname so much. “Just call me by my name,”
“But I could not do that, teacher. Would that not be rude?” He asks, as he slightly tilts his head to the side.
Ugh, fine, “Do whatever you want.”
You move to sit down next to him, not giving much thought to the fact that he only sat down after you finished adjusting your seat.
Seeing his posture rigid and hard made you laugh though.
“Relax, Sans!” You giggle, patting his back, “You don’t have to be so stiff!”
He (somehow) stiffens more at the contact, which ends your giggles, but then his posture becomes not the tensest posture to ever exist. Still tense as heck, though, but you file it as good enough for now.
Comfortable silence consumes the atmosphere after that, only filled with the rustling of food, stretching until the end of lunch period. You like the peace and quiet here.
When the bell rang you stood up, him standing with you. Smiling softly, you say, “This was honestly nice, Sans. Thanks for letting me eat here with you.”
Cheeks tinting red, he nods tightly.
You offer your hand to shake, “I might come here again tomorrow if you still don’t mind me robbing you of your free time,” you jokingly remark.
“Yes, teacher,” he replies, hesitating before he shakes your hand. Oh, he’s wearing gloves. The only bones showing is his skull, not even his neck is visible with that bandanna.
Aw man, it seems he’s not gonna drop the teacher thing. Oh, well. “See you!” You wave your hand and walk out of there, heading to your class.
On your way, you subconsciously rub the hand he shook, thinking that he looked like a nice kid. And like a pretty kid that you’d maybe want to doodle in class. You laugh quietly as you imagine the awkward kid reacting to you calling him pretty. Since you don’t know him that well, you put a hundred scenarios in your head, and before you know it you’ve reached your class.