Chapter Text
Your new therapist fiddles with her black ballboint pen, looking over her notes so far.
"I tried to just ignore him, I did! But he noticed that I could see him when no one else could, and he followed me home. He's been clinging to my side ever since, like a.."
Like a lost puppy...
You grit your teeth, frustrated.
Never in your life would you have thought to compare a skeleton, of all things, to a dog, but lately it's all you can think about.. He has these little blue lights in his eyes, like something of an iris, and they tend to twinkle when he sees something he likes.. As though if he had a tail, it would be wagging. And he gets so excited about every little thing; riding in the truck, going to the store, walking through the park.. But otherwise he just sits around and pouts, always up in your space and begging for attention. And that silly blue scarf he wears around his neck, like some kind of bandana..? You might as well have taken in a retriever.
"I just don't understand! I have a job, I have an apartment, I'm feeling comfortable financially, and I haven't been under any kind of stress. I've never heard of a functioning adult having an... issue like this."
Maybe not, but here you are, staring right at him as he listens to you rant about him from the other end of the couch..
"I mean.. Sometimes I can get a little lonely, I guess, but not enough to warrant all this. It's bizarre."
The therapist nods, writing something down on her clipboard.
You hate that clipboard..
"I understand where you're coming from, but if you want my honest opinion, I really don't see a problem with it. As long as he's not causing harm or discomfort to you, or pushing you to do unreasonable things, then you can probably benefit from this.. figmental relationship."
'Figmental, huh?' your skeleton mumbles. 'Is that what we're calling it, now?'
He presses his hands together like he's cracking his knuckles, but.. you don't even think he has joints to pop..?
He's literally made of bones. That makes no sense. None of this makes any sense.
"Doc, I don't--"
"Please, we're just friends in here. No need for the formalities."
You sigh.
"...Rachel. I don't see what's so beneficial about having everyone around me assume I'm crazy."
"I think your friend.. Sans, right?"
You nod.
"I think Sans is exactly what you need right now. At best, he may improve your confidence, help develop social skills, and maybe even teach you a bit about yourself. At worst, he's harmless. And if he turns out not to be, you can come back, and we can work through it together. So why don't you consider giving him a chance?"
You glance sideways at Sans, and for a moment, he looks.. vulnerable. Like you might actually throw him away on a whim if you decide he's not worth the effort.
If you could do that, you wouldn't even be here right now.
You let out another sigh, your earlier resolve weakened by his puppy dog eyes.
"Alright, sure. Why the hell not?"
Rachel beams at you, then at the general area where Sans is sitting, clasping her hands together with delight.
He blinks at you, surprised.
You say nothing.
"Wonderful! Here, go ahead and take this with you."
She hands you a white leather journal, with clean, crisp pages and a button-up closure.
"Use it to process things however you like. Thoughts, dreams, feelings.. I won't be reading it; it's yours and yours alone."
You awkwardly accept the book and stand up, not really wanting to stick around for much longer.
"Thanks, Rachel.. I'll be in touch."
You absolutely will not be in touch.
"Please do be! I hope you have a nice day, and Sans as well!"
Sans smiles softly in response, giving her a playful salute over his shoulder, despite Rachel not actually being able to see him.
As you exit the office, soaking up the sunshine and breezy air of a cool spring morning, you were hoping to feel somewhat resolved. Instead, you just feel embarrassed. You don't look at your.. 'friend', but you can feel him standing just behind you, waiting for you to say something. ...Anything. Instead, you walk to your truck, hopping up silently into the driver's seat. As is usual lately, he's already in the passenger side, waiting for you when you get in.
'She seems nice,' he offers.
You flip through the empty journal, not really sure what you're looking for. Mostly just something to do with your hands, you suppose. But all you see is pristine white paper, unlined, and for some reason, it only makes you more frustrated.
'You know.. that's the first time you've ever acknowledged me.'
You close the book with a sigh, before buckling your seatbelt. Sans stares. You say nothing.
'..Back to this, then, huh?' he chuckles bitterly. 'Yeah, I figured as much.'
He looks hurt. For the briefest moment, your heart aches. Out of.. guilt? Is this guilt? Some part of you doesn't want him feeling hurt, real or otherwise. You glare at your steering wheel, frustrated.
"I.."
He stills. Are you.. talking to him? There's no way, right?
"Need.. time."
When you turn to face him, Sans is gawking at you in disbelief. He quickly closes his mouth, embarrassed.
'Y-yeah! Sure! Take all time you need.'
As you start the truck, you aren't completely sure, but.. you think, in the corner of your eye, you actually see him smile.
You say nothing.
It's been a few days now, since you've visited with Rachel. Though you haven't spoken to Sans since, he definitely appears a bit.. cheerier. He gives you a good amount of distance at home now, and you can't decide if he's giving you space to process, or just trying not to make your living space feel cramped, now that you've actually acknowledged his presence in it. You appreciate the gesture, either way. But every once in a while, you'll catch him humming to himself, or chuckling at things he finds amusing. You can't help but feel relieved. As long as he isn't angry, you suppose.
A knock at the door alerts you both, and you abandon your laptop to go answer it.
"Hello?"
You peek through the half-open door, but there's no one in sight. Instead, a small package sits innocently on your doormat.
Oh!
You pick it up and bring it inside, closing the door behind you. Sans looks curious, but seems to decide against asking. Not that you have a clue, yourself. You hadn't ordered anything.
You open the package with some scissors from your desk, folding gently away at pastel tissue paper until you see a card:
To a new friendship!
I've included some fun
goodies for you and
Sans to enjoy together.
Come visit again, soon!
- Dr. Rachel Smith, PhD
You raise an eyebrow. What is this woman up to, now?
Digging a little further into the box, you find a few small gifts: an assortment of teas, a pack of colored pencils, and most notably, a cellphone headset. You haven't seen one of these in years! This one in particular is attached to a slim headband, with a small metal wire connecting to a mouthpiece. It's the kind of set you'd imagine a secretary would have, or a backstage manager. One that's less subtle and more practical. It isn't clunky by any means, but it definitely sends a clear message:
'I might interrupt you to respond to my boss at any moment, because obviously, I'm working.'
It's.. kind of ingenious.
You glance up at Sans over your shoulder, who startles a bit at the sudden attention.
'Uh, sorry, am I being too nosy?' he mumbles, a tropical shade of blue adorning his cheekbones. He backs away a bit, rubbing his neck with slim fingers, and you feel a small urge to reassure him.
Sans speaks to you often. Such is normal. Lately, he sometimes gets a small nod, or an absent hum in response, but never much more. You aren't trying to be rude, really. But even after your visit with Rachel, you're pretty hesitant to talk back. You just.. aren't the type of person who thinks out loud. It isn't in your nature. You worry far too much of what others think of you to go around talking to yourself like it's no big deal.
But.. here's Sans, looking like a kicked puppy over a simple glance, and you can't help but want to at least try.
You clear your throat, but feel a warm flush in your face as he watches you, hopeful, anticipating some sort of response. Rather than speak, you shake your head and wave your hand lightly, as if to say,
You're fine, it's no bother.
He smiles, appreciating the effort. This is the most communication you've had since that moment in the truck.
'Alright, then, if you're fine with it.. What'd you get?'
Your face reddens. More questions, huh? Instead of answering, you gesture at the box.
See for yourself.
He gladly accepts the invitation, leaning over you casually to read the note, and grins.
'For me, too, huh? How considerate.'
You blink at this. Are these even things he can use? If he says so, you suppose.
'What's the headband for?'
Ah, there it is; a direct question. The type you can't answer with a shake, hum, or even hand gesture. These questions make you the most nervous. But, you suppose, that's.. exactly what the headset is for.
"M-maybe.." you murmur.
'Yeah?' he encourages, his eyes glimmering with hope.
You turn the set over in your hands, studying it for a moment. Could this really work? It's worth a shot, at least, right?
You put it on with a small hand flourish, as if to ask,
How do I look?
Sans smiles, a little unsure.
'Uh, looks like you'd rather be spending your 45 minute lunch break anywhere but here. Why?'
In a failed effort to hold back a laugh, you snort, catching him completely off guard. His cautious demeanor seems to melt away a little as you smile.
'You.. you look nice, though. It looks really cute on you.'
You shake your head with a small shrug, taking off the headset and putting it back in the box for now. Maybe when you have a little more confidence, you can try again..
'Good morning,' Sans chimes, smiling softly at you when you walk into the living room.
You've noticed he's been a little more talkative these past few days. You wonder if he's getting lonely, or if he's just encouraging you to try your best. ..Probably a bit of both.
'How'd you sleep?'
You keep walking, going straight to the box your new therapist had sent you, still packed and sitting neatly on your kitchen counter.
Sans watches you curiously from the living room. You avoid his gaze, a little embarrassed, as you hold up one of the boxes of tea for him. When you chance a look, his entire face is lit up, apparently just excited that you'd initiated some sort of communication.
'That's-- Yeah, tea! Are you.. are you making some?'
You nod, feeling sort of ridiculous.
'Is it okay if I come and watch?'
Watch you make tea? Damn, he must really be bored.
You shrug in a noncommittal sort of manner, but his eyes sparkle, nonetheless. When you turn back to the kitchen, he's already sitting on the counter, smiling cheerily at you. You roll your eyes lightheartedly.
'Is it.. alright if I talk to you? While you make the tea, I mean?'
You look through the various boxes of tea and find a flavor you think sounds nice.
'You.. you don't have to respond if you don't want to, so no pressure, okay?'
After searching for a moment, you pull a silver kettle out from the cabinet, bringing it to the sink to fill with water.
'You know, I've never been a huge tea fan, but I find myself growing more fond of it these days..'
You listen, watching the water flow from the tap as he fiddles with the settings on the stovetop.
'My brother, Papyrus.. he was a big fan of honey. Couldn't get enough of the stuff.'
...Sans has a brother?
'I thought when he got older, he would grow out of the sweets phase, but even as an adult, he'd drink the stuff straight from the bottle.'
You turn to Sans, crinkling your nose, and he giggles, delighted at your response.
'Believe me, I know.'
You turn to the stove, ready to switch on the burner, when you notice it's already hot.
When did you...?
'Anyway, he was obsessed with sugar. He'd always hang out at Muffet's --a local bakery of ours-- and order donuts and sweet ciders. And I'd find lollipop sticks everywhere around the house, to the point it drove me crazy.'
You stare incredulously at the kettle of water on the stove, still listening, but also trying to remember when the hell you'd turned on the burner..?
'So one day, I decided to confront him about it. I practiced in the mirror for hours; I was really going to tell him this time how bad all that sugar was for his health, and that if he kept eating like that, he was going to get cavities!'
Your water starts to simmer, but you hardly notice, watching Sans as he tries fruitlessly to crack his knuckles. You're starting to think it might be a nervous habit of his.
'But when he got back that day.. he didn't have a bottle of honey, or a box of donuts, or a lollipop.. Instead, he came home smelling like cigarettes. And I'll never forget the look on his face, when he realized I'd come home early. He'd looked shocked at first, but then.. so resigned. It was that look that told me everything. He'd clearly been doing this for a while, now; he knew it was only a matter of time that I found out he smoked.'
Your kettle sings, and as you turn off the burner, Sans picks up the box of tea, looking at it in a daze.
'That's the day I realized that sugar had become his crutch. Whenever he was craving a smoke, he'd grab a lollipop instead, not wanting to disappoint me. My little brother was all grown up; he was hiding things from me for my own well being. He swore up and down that he was trying to quit.. But I already knew that.'
He sets the tea back down again, leaning his shoulder against the backsplash and gazing down at the counter, lightly rubbing at the surface of it with his thumb.
'I left to ask my friend Alphys what she thought of it all.. And she told me that her mentor, the Queen, used to always make her a warm cup of tea whenever she was feeling overwhelmed.. So that night, I brought home a small tin of echo flower tea; the first of many.'
You open up the cupboard above the sink as you listen, digging quietly around to find the tea cups.
'Every week I'd bring him a new flavor, until the pantry was absolutely full of it. Black teas, herbal teas, mint and floral.. Spiced and fruity and golden and blue.. Just to watch him stir in ridiculous amounts of honey.'
A breathy laugh escapes you, surprising you both, and Sans gives you a warm smile.
'But you know.. he seemed so much happier.. Probably less because of the tea itself, and more because I had finally accepted his habits for what they were; Papyrus was trying his best to do better.'
Your heart melts a little at the sentiment, and you open up the box of tea bags.
'But now, whenever I see a cup of tea, I think of him, and I wonder how he's-- doing....'
You pause, right in the middle of pouring the second cup of tea. Why did he--?
....The second cup?
You look down at the two teacups in front of you, and your face burns bright red.
You'd poured Sans a cup!?
You put down the kettle, gripping the edge of the countertop with both hands.
'Is that.. for me?'
Mortified, you crouch down on the floor, hiding your flaming face behind the cabinets.
'Aww, I'm sorry, human! I didn't mean to embarrass you.'
Holy shit.. You've officially lost it.
'It was really sweet of you to pour me a cup. I was just surprised, that's all!'
You just served a hot beverage to a figment of your imagination.
'It's honestly fine!'
You're like a little kid having a tea party with their imaginary friend..
'Hey, can you hear me?'
You're so fucking lame...
'Hello?' Sans mutters, right into your ear.
You squeak, startled, and fall back out of your crouch, landing gracelessly on your ass in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"Geeze, Sans! Don't do that to me!"
Sans, now sitting on the floor beside you, stares at you with wide eyes.
"What?!"
'Uh.. you just.. you talked to me.'
Your color returns tenfold, and you cover your face, humiliated.
Sometimes, he just feels so real.. that you forget he's not actually there.
...You find it hard to sleep that night.
Sans gasps. He's curled up in your lounge chair when you walk out, reading one of your old books. You try not to question it.
'Oh, wow.'
You blink, looking down over your outfit, then back up at him. Is that... a good oh wow? Or a bad oh wow? You aren't entirely sure you want to know. But you give your head a curious tilt, despite yourself.
'You just.. You look great. Hot date?'
You give him a playful eye roll, genuinely flattered, and wobble your head left and right with a small grin.
'Kind of a hot date? You wish it was a hot date? I caught you and you're totally going on a hot date? What does that even mean?'
You let out a soft chortle, shaking your head at his various conclusions.
"Business party," you mumble, cheeks going pink.
His eyes twinkle, clearly pleased with himself for getting more than one word out of you today.
'Ah, that explains it! Well.. your hair looks great like that. Err, your.. everything.. looks great like that. Stay safe, alright?'
You raise an eyebrow. Compliments aside, is he.. not coming with tonight? Is that even a thing he can choose? But as you leave the apartment, the hallway door locks with a resounding click. Sans is nowhere to be seen, presumably still reading in your lounge chair.. As if that makes any sense at all; it's not like he has object permanence.
Strange, you think, as your phone buzzes in your hand.
[Pulling in now. You ready?]
(Yeah, I'll be out in just a sec.)
As you walk downstairs to the parking lot, the situation sinks in a little deeper for you. A car ride without Sans? For the last two weeks, you couldn't drive anywhere without him quietly hitching a ride in your passenger seat. He's always there, making small talk, gazing at the sky, or doodling in that little notebook Rachel gave you.
Which, again, makes no sense, seeing as he can't just pick shit up.
You wonder briefly, as you reach the bottom step, if your fictitious friend has an inventory of some sort.
Your work friend, Julie, waves at you from her little black sedan.
"Oh, hey, you look hot!"
You give her a shy smile, before you remember that you're supposed to answer real people out loud.
"Oh, uh, thanks."
"No problem! You got everything?"
"Yeah, I think so," you lie. You're clearly lacking in the imaginary skeleton department.
You climb into Julie's car, just grateful that you have someone to go with. The last thing you want is to go to some stuffy work event by yourself.
She starts pulling out of your driveway before you can even buckle your seatbelt. At the intersection, she reaches for her aux cord. The traffic lights above cast a pretty red glow along the inside of the car as she brings it to an idle. Somehow, it feels a little lonely..
"Thanks again for the ride, Jules. Are you excited?"
She laughs, skipping through several songs before she finds one she wants to hear.
"Oh, please. If you weren't getting that award, I probably wouldn't even be going."
You blink at her, a little put off by the answer. The light above you turns green, and she sets her phone back down, her head swaying along to the music.
"Wait, why not?" you press.
"What'dya mean 'why not'? It's Saturday night, babe. If it were anyone else asking me, I totally would've just ditched to go clubbing," she teases.
"Oh.."
Julie notices you deflate, and quickly backpedals, misunderstanding.
"I mean-- I don't mind, of course! I'm totally happy to be there for you, hon."
You glance at the GPS; you have about half an hour's drive before you get to the restaurant the event is at.
You think about Sans, sitting at home alone, and not here in the car with you for some reason. You think about how warm and fuzzy it'd felt when he'd told you how 'wow' you looked tonight.
Did you really dress this nice on a Saturday night to go collect some stupid certificate from people you don't even like?
"Hey, Jules?" you mumble, anxiety and excitement bubbling inside of you.
"What's up, babe?"
"You.. uh.. you think you could turn the car around?"