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You couldn’t sleep in the tattered make-shift sleeping mat.
You get up, making sure as though to not wake the rest of the group you're traveling with. You were always either on the run or traveling to trade with other groups who probably want you dead now. You don’t really know why, but it's what you have to assume in this world.
After all, in this world, it's kill or be killed. Humans and monsters hate each other on the surface, but then again it isn't racist if everyone hates everyone. Monsters killed monsters, humans killed humans… This whole world was nothing but a war-zone between groups.
The group you are with consists mostly of monsters, but other humans are here too.
Everyone was supposed to be asleep, but… not you. You can’t sleep. Especially with that stupid mirror around. It showed all the worst parts of you…
You sigh weakly at the sight of yourself in the mirror, the clothes you wore showing off all the scars on your body.
There were so many…
Scars from when you got into fights with others and they managed to break skin. Scars from when you almost died falling in rivers. Scars of when you barely escaped wildfires. Scars of when beasts chased you down under the crescent moon. Scars of when they caught you and you had to kill them with your bare hands. Scars of when they screamed and clawed at your face.
Scars of all the trauma you went through growing up fighting in a murder-filled world.
You couldn’t help but let the tears flow down as you look at the murderer in the mirror. You bite back your lip, afraid of making noise to wake anyone in the camp. What would they think if you just started sobbing?
They would think you were weak. Pathetic. Useless. Unworthy.
Such is the way of life here, you suppose. But…
You couldn’t help but let out a few weak whimpers as you curl in front of the mirror.
You squeeze out the sorrow from your eyes. It only got more painful as you quieted your sobs, soon sniffling a bit as you trembled on the dirt below you.
Until you look up at the mirror again, now seeing a murderer and a skeleton behind, who’s sockets looked at the reflection in a concerned perma-smile, the blue eyelights shining in the dark and tattered scarf tied around their neck. The sight didn’t surprise you… It was just Sans, after all. He’s a light sleeper and usually wakes up to a disturbance in the sound field. In which case, your sobbing was a disturbance.
His soft voice, like a drop of water in a silent room, gently caught your attention.
“Hey… are you alright, human?”
You answer his question with silence, him responding with “I guess I’ll take that as a no..” and lowering down beside you.
You didn't even look towards him. You only stared down his reflection in the mirror, along with your own.
Sans was always the one to comfort someone in the group when they are awake at night, and you are the most common. He’s always there for you at your lowest, darkest times… and you wonder sometimes how he does it.
His cheery and bubbly personality in the day keeps everyone’s spirits up, and during the night it shifts to a calming and sweet tone.
“Were you looking at your scars again?” he asks softly.
You look at his reflection, your vision a bit blurry from the tears. He looks at you back with dim eyelights to not hurt your eyes when you stare at them. You nod, now staring at the murderer with your face.
“Hm. Well, I can tell you what I see when I look at you, if you want. You have never let me before.”
You knew what he was going to say, though. A tough warrior who fears no man and who laughs at the face of a beast. A mean warrior who everyone looks up to and counts on you to stay strong, stay brave, and stay alive. You already knew, but… You might as well hear him say it.
You don’t protest and finally look at him sitting beside you. He looks at you with a soft smile, gently inhaling as he looks at you now in the mirror, you following suit.
“I see a survivor. A human who just wants a peaceful life, and is trying their best.”
Your eyes widen as you exchange looks with his reflection. You… didn't really expect this. He sits with his legs crossed and stares at your reflection, giving an expression filled with tender understanding.
“ A human who… is afraid and sad. And a human who went through a lot growing up. A human who bottles up their feelings in the day and acts tough but- in the end, they're just like everyone else. They are afraid, they are tired. They want peace and don’t want to fight anymore, yet they don’t want to die.”
You stare at the murderer in the mirror, except… They look less like a murderer and more like a broken mess of sorrow. You blink as you furrow your brows, now looking up at Sans once more. He looks back with a sad sympathetic smile and leans down to hold your hand with his gloved fingers.
“All those scars you see, those aren’t the scars of some human who kills because they can or they could because they're so strong like how everyone else thinks. No, see… Those are scars of a human who went through hell just to live another day…” he explained softly.
He stares at the hand he’s holding, tracing the scar on your palm. You remember what happened with that scar… You grabbed a blade from the sharp end so you could finally push it off of you. It hurt like hell, but you would have rather lived than died.
“And it isn’t fair, is it, human?” he sighed somberly.
“...No.” You finally respond, blinking your watery eyes. “No, it isn’t fair… Nothing is fair.”
“Nothing is fair.” He echoed, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in small circles. “And it isn’t okay. You didn’t deserve these scars, you deserve a happy life, human.”
“You do too, Sans.” you whisper softly, using your other hand to trace a white line on his ulna and radius. He wasn’t expecting this gesture, but he sighs with melancholy.
“We all do.”