Chapter Text
"What… what do you mean by a different universe?" You blinked, suddenly aware of Flowey as he broke you from your thoughts. You hadn't even realized you had been so out of it in front of him, too caught up in your own emotions. Mentally, you cursed yourself, furious for letting your guard slip.
Pull it together. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you fought steady your breathing. The cold air cut into your lungs with each inhale, but you forced yourself to take it in anyway. The frost bit at your cheeks, the chill burrowing into your bones, but it was grounding. Necessary. You needed to be stronger than this.
You leaned harder against the tree at your back, placing your hand against it. The cold beneath your fingertips sent a faint shiver up your spine, but you welcomed the discomfort. Anything to pull yourself out of your head. With a final, sharp inhale, you straightened, you jaw clenching.
You were eerily expressionless, the emotions inside you folding in on themselves until all that remained was a cold, hollow emptiness. The mask you’d been trained to wear slid neatly into place, cutting off any weakness before it could take hold.
You pushed off the tree, deliberately turning away from Flowey, and strolling further into the forest. But, behind you, a faint rustling followed you, and you suppressed the urge to sigh.
“Where are you going?” Flowey asked, his voice light. You walked faster, not bothering to look at him.
“Looking for anything useful,” you said flatly, the words sharp and clipped. It wasn’t hard to see that you didn’t want him tagging along, but Flowey followed anyway. The faint rustle of his stem brushing against the snow grated against your nerves as he kept pace beside you. His stare even managed to set you on edge, but you didn’t bother trying to shake him off. Not yet, anyway.
Your gaze shifted to the forest ahead, catching on something that didn’t quite belong. A blur of uneven lines against the endless white made you squint, and as you drew closer, the shape cleared up as a small, weathered shed. It sat crooked and slumped in the snow, frost clinging to its walls like ivy.
Flowey’s petals twitched as he noticed it too, but for once, he didn’t say anything. You were grateful for the silence as your breath come out in a puff. Up close, the structure looked even worse. The wood was warped and splintered, weathered by years of merciless wind and biting cold.
The roof sagged dangerously beneath the weight of packed snow, and the door hung slightly open, its frame cracked and fraying. The entire thing felt fragile, like one strong gust could send it crashing down.
You stopped just outside, your breath hitching slightly as unease crept into your chest.
The silence pressed against your ears as you paused at the door, straining to hear anything, anything, that might be wrong. But there was nothing. Just the whistle of the wind and the faint rustle of snow as it shifted around the shed.
Your fingers twitched at your side before you cautiously pushed the door open. The wood scraped against the frame with a loud, drawn-out creak, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. As you stepped inside, your hand brushed against the splintered edge of the doorframe, the wood biting into your skin.
The air inside was heavy, stale with disuse, carrying a faint, musty scent that clung to the back of your throat. Your nose crinkled instinctively. It was cramped; a single, narrow room with just enough space for a small bed shoved into one corner and a rudimentary kitchen squeezed beside it. Everything was worn, weathered by time and neglect.
The wooden floor creaked beneath your weight as you moved further in. The walls were riddled with gaps and cracks, letting thin beams of light and cold air filter through, but it seemed sturdy enough to keep out the worst of the elements.
The bed caught your attention. Though simple and threadbare, it was intact, its blanket folded with surprising care. And there was a faint, almost sweet scent lingering in the air, so subtle it felt out of place amidst the decay. It made your chest ache, though you weren’t sure why.
Flowey lingered by the doorway, silent but observant. His petals twitched occasionally, as if he wanted to speak but didn’t dare break the silence. You stepped further into the shed, wanting to explore some more, when your foot landed on something soft.
You froze.
Your gaze dropped to the ground, to the faint pile of dust scattered just beneath your boot. A hollow breath escaped your lips as realization crashed into you like a wave. You leapt back instinctively, your heart lurching as the dust stirred in the air, swirling in the air before slowly drifting back down.
A monster had died here.
The thought rooted you in place, your eyes locked on the small, pale heap. The room suddenly felt colder, the air heavier.
Flowey’s voice cut through the silence, low and almost cautious. “The monster who lived here… they were getting weak.” He paused, the shift in his tone making you glance at him. “They were seen as an easy target, so they were…” His words trailed off, unfinished, but the implication was clear.
You felt sick. Your gaze flicked back to the dust, the faint remnants of a life snuffed out, and your stomach churned. The weight of it pressed against your chest, threatening to pull you under. You didn’t even realize your hands had curled into fists at your sides.
The sigh that escaped you felt too loud, too heavy in the confined space. Without looking at Flowey, you turned away from the dust, forcing yourself to focus on something else.
Anything else. So you focused on Flowey. Your jaw tightened, the urge to tell him to leave bubbling up in your chest.
But you didn’t.
As much as you wanted him gone, as much as you didn’t trust him, you needed him. He knew this world far better than you did, and right now, that knowledge was more valuable than your comfort.
But you didn’t have to like it.
"Hey Flowey." He perked at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as his expression shifted into something that was almost eager. Flowey had been acting so odd since you met him, in the way he looked at you and responded.
Maybe he thought you were acting weird, maybe he was just waiting for you to start making sense. But for some reason, he didn’t seem all that bothered by you. In fact, you couldn’t shake the feeling he almost enjoyed your company.
“What is this Underground like?” His eyes darting away for a moment at the question, before locking onto yours again. His black eyes were sharp, the emptiness in them unsettling, but they held something more; nervousness, maybe? Whatever it was, his gaze flickered away just as quickly, dropping to the pile of dust between you as if he couldn't stand to look at you for more than a few seconds.
“I don’t know where you’re from, but here… in the Underground…” His words were slow, like he’d said them before. “It’s kill or be killed. Everyone’s souls have hardened, and kindness is something that is rarely seen.”
Flowey’s body curled in on itself as he spoke, his tendrils twitching. His voice grew quieter, more brittle, as if a memory was plaguing him. “Anyone who shows kindness gets taken advantage of, or worse.” The words hung in the air, their heaviness settling over you like a fog.
“Weakness here is a death sentence. Especially for a human.”
Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t look away. His warning had put you on edge, sure, but you didn't, no couldn’t, believe that everyone here could be so cold, so ruthless. You’d seen enough to know that kindness often existed even in the most unexpected places. Some part of you refused to accept that this universe, that the monsters here, could be entirely devoid of it.
Your shoulders stiffened, jaw tightening as you held his stare, trying to swallow down the discomfort bubbling in your chest.
“How is everyone here that cruel? Is Papyrus like that?” The questions were more accusatory then anything, and the moment the words left your lips, you knew you’d hit a nerve.
For a second, Flowey didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His body language said it all. Then he shook his head, slowly, with a shudder that rippled down his vine-like body.
“Yes,” Flowey said, his voice quiet, almost hushed. “I don’t know what sort of Papyrus you knew, but this one… He’s not the same.” He paused, and you saw a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. Fear, maybe? Or disgust? “If you want to live… avoid him and his brother. Avoid both of them. At all costs.”
You tried to picture it, to see the Papyrus you remembered through Flowey’s words, but it was impossible. The image of Papyrus, the one you knew, bright, hopeful, too innocent for his own good, wouldn’t fit the version he described. It felt wrong, like trying to force a puzzle piece into the wrong spot.
Papyrus? Cruel?
The thought twisted your stomach, making you feel sick, and for a moment, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. Almost.
But then, your mind wandered back to Alphys. How different she had been, how there had been no warmth in her eyes, no care. If that was true for her, you couldn't help but think it might be true for everyone in this Underground.
Doggo... Undyne... Grillby... even the kid. The thought of them, changed like that, left a bitter taste in your mouth. What had happened to them? What had made them like this? Your thoughts stopped, and before you could stop it, the question was already slipping from your mouth, tumbling into the air between you.
“How many humans have fallen?”
The question hung there, suspended in the air, and you could almost see the way it settled around Flowey. He froze, his petals twitching slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied you.
“Two.”
Two? The word struck you like a blow to the chest, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. That didn’t make sense. Only two? If there has only been two humans then… that meant Frisk wasn't here.
That meant this version of the Underground, this timeline, was behind the one you came from. Your universe had seven souls fall, enough to break the barrier, enough to get to the surface. But here...
No wonder Flowey had no memory of Frisk. They hadn’t come here yet. Maybe they never would. As saddening as that thought was, there was one good thing.
The Shadowbringer can't escape. Even if he somehow managed to get your soul, he wouldn't have enough to get to the surface. You felt a flicker of relief at the thought, something soft and fleeting.
But that relief was short-lived. It twisted into a deep, gnawing fear that clutched at your gut. Just because the Shadowbringer couldn’t break free didn’t mean he’d stop. No. You knew him too well. He was relentless. Adaptable. He would find a way. It wasn’t in his nature to back down, not after he’d come this far.
A shiver ran up your spine, and it wasn’t from the cold. Everything here felt wrong. Everything was off in ways that made your skin crawl. Your chest tightened, and though you tried to shake it off, you couldn’t.
I need to see it with my own eyes,. The thought was sharp, cutting through the haze of uncertainty that had been clouding your mind. You couldn’t just stand here, not now. You needed to know what was happening, what was really happening in this Underground. Before you realized it, you were moving, stepping out of the small shed.
“Hey! Wait!” Flowey’s voice rang out behind you. “Where are you going?”
“To town,” you answered, glancing back. But he popped out of the snow in front of you before you could take another step, his face twisted with something close to worry. His vines seemed to tense, like he was going to try and hold you back if he had to.
“You can’t just… walk into town!” He said, frantically shaking his head. “You’ll be killed if you go in there! You can’t trust anyone here!”
Your eyes narrowed, a sardonic smile tugging at your lips. “Doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t trust you?”
Flowey’s eyes widened, his expression faltering as if he hadn’t expected the question. His petals drooped, his vines twitching, almost trembling as he scrambled for an answer.
“I… I mean…” He sounded lost for a moment, his confidence slipping. “I’m… just trying to help,” he muttered weakly. He seemed genuine, and for a moment, you almost turned back around to the shed.
But, a voice clawed its way into your mind, mocking you for even considering believing him. This is Flowey, you reminded yourself. One of the most manipulative creatures you’d ever met. A being who’d toy with you without hesitation, who’d gleefully pull at your strings if it suited his purpose.
“I don’t need your help,” you said, each word sharper than the last. Flowey’s face fell, his expression momentarily crumbling, and he hesitated, as if debating whether to argue. But he didn’t try to stop you this time. He just watched in silence as you walked past him, not even giving him a second glance.
* * * * *
Snowdin wasn’t the same.
As you approached the town, a strange, oppressive weight pressed against your chest, heavier with every step. The snow that once felt so soft and inviting now seemed brittle, crunching sharply beneath your boots. The air, always cold, carried a thickness that clung to your skin, suffocating and heavy. It was as though the entire town held its breath, waiting for something to break the silence.
The buildings were the same,but they too felt wrong. The cheerful wreaths and soft lights that once adorned their walls were gone, replaced by weathered wood and frost-covered windows that gave the town an abandoned, hostile appearance.
You hesitated at the edge of the main street, your fingers tightening around the worn fabric of your coat. Snow piled in uneven drifts against the buildings, untouched except for the occasional set of footprints that hinted at life in this desolate place. A faint sound pricked at your ears. The crunch of footsteps.
Instinct flared hot and fast. Without thinking, you pressed yourself against the rough wall of a nearby building, the coarse wood biting through your layers. Your breath hitched, and you stifled it, biting the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. A wooden barrel sat within reach, its surface slick with frost, and you curled your fingers around the edge, knuckles white as you crouched lower, heart pounding.
The footsteps grew louder, and you strained your ears to hear. Then, rounding the corner, a monster appeared.
Doggo. Relief filled you for a moment, the sight of him tugging at your heart. But the feeling shattered just as quickly as it came. The Doggo you remembered, playful and oddly endearing, wasn’t here. This was someone else entirely.
Deep scars carved across his muzzle, very visible against the grayish tint of his fur, the white seeming duller now, like it had been leeched of life. His lips twisted into a permanent snarl, baring teeth yellowed from disuse. His stance was rigid, his claws flexing slightly as he scanned the street.
Your throat tightened, a wave of unease clawing at your insides.
Movement behind him drew your attention. A lanky, wiry monster slinked past, their posture hunched, shoulders pulled in tight, as though trying to make themselves as small as possible. Their gaze flicked nervously to Doggo, then immediately away, but it wasn’t enough.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from Doggo’s throat, the sound making the other monster freeze mid-step. Their head tilted just slightly, enough to cast a resentful glare before they hurried away, steps quick and uneven.
Doggo didn’t follow. Instead, a sick, twisted gleam lit his eyes, his lip curling in satisfaction. He straightened, his chest puffing out slightly as though he took pride in the fear he caused.
You stayed frozen, fingers gripping the barrel tighter as you fought the impulse to run. And yet, you couldn’t look away, your heart hammering as Doggo’s eye swept the street, his eyes lingering too long on the shadows where you hid.
Just before Doggo could catch your scent, you slipped further along the building’s side. The cold bit into your palms as you crouched lower, your fingers brushing the frozen earth in a search for cover. Each breath felt heavy, fogging the air in shallow puffs that you fought to silence.
You crept from one hiding spot to another, ducking behind crates and stacks of barrels with barely a sound.
Your gaze darted upward, as another idea flashed through your mind. A bead of sweat, cold as the air around you, slipped down the side of your face. You clenched your jaw and backed up slightly, studying the distance from the wall to the roof.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, you felt the burn of cold air sear your lungs. You sprang forward. Your boot struck the wall, and your muscles screamed as you pushed up. The edge of the roof loomed above you, closer now. Your hands gripped the frozen shingles, the icy texture biting into your skin as you hauled yourself upward with a grunt. Snow crunched under your palms as you scrambled onto the rooftop, your breath exploding from you in uneven gasps.
The wind hit you like a slap, slicing through your clothes, chilling your face and numbing your fingers until every movement felt sluggish. For a moment, you froze there, sprawled against the rooftop. Your heartbeat was wild, thundering in your chest, your throat, your ears, everywhere it shouldn't be when you needed to stay silent.
Every creak of the roof, every distant sound sent a surge of panic through you, but the streets below remained still. Gradually, you pressed your body flat against the frost-bitten shingles, your breath shallow as you scooted forward, the ice digging into your elbows and knees.
You lifted your head just enough to peek over the edge. The view made your stomach churn. Where there had once been laughter and warmth, now there was only silence, broken occasionally by muttered curses or low growls. Monsters moved quickly, their heads low, shoulders hunched, as if trying to look as intimidating as possible.
A sudden shout snapped your attention to the left. A small bunny monster stumbled backward, colliding with a taller cat monster. The bunny’s wide eyes darted around, his hands rising in an almost apologetic way. But the cat’s sneer was sharp enough to cut ice, his mouth curling around words you couldn’t quite hear.
Whatever the cat had said, it must have been vile. The bunny lunged, slamming the cat into the wall with shocking force. You flinched, shrinking against the roof as the fight erupted into a brutal flurry of claws and snarls. Their bodies twisted, the icy ground cracking beneath them with every impact.
The cat lashed out, claws ripping at the bunny’s fur, scattering tufts of white against the snow. But the fight ended as suddenly as it began. The bunny monster drove him down, pinning him to the frozen ground.
You held your breath, the wild drumming of your heart loud in your ears. Then the first glimmer of dust rose on the wind. You squeezed your eyes shut, bile thick and sour climbing your throat, but your curiosity betrayed you. Your gaze snapped back, drawn to the grim aftermath.
Where the cat monster had been, there was only a scattering of dust, already fading into the snow. The bunny stood, brushing himself off with a disconcerting casualness. His face was impassive, almost bored, as if what had just happened meant nothing at all.
The knot in your stomach twisted tighter. Your fingers dug into the shingles as you watched the other monsters step around the scene without so much as a glance. No one stopped. No one cared.
You ducked back down, pressing yourself flat against the roof, the rough shingles biting into your cheek. Your chest heaved, each breath shaky and shallow.
They just… let it happen.
Your mind raced. You swallowed hard, trying to force down the rising panic clawing at your insides. Without your element, without water to call on, you felt stripped bare. You could fight, sure, but you were weakened.
Flowey was right. I need to get out of here.
Moving slowly, you shifted toward the edge of the roof. The frost-coated surface crackled faintly beneath your weight, sending fresh jolts of anxiety through you. You slid down carefully, your feet brushing against the edge as you prepared to drop down.
Then, a voice cut through the silence, rough and guttural.
“scram!”
The single word was a growl, sharp enough to make you flinch. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the cold air felt like it had turned to stone in your chest.
No. It couldn’t be. Not him. Your fingers tightened against the edge of the roof, knuckles turning white. Your instincts screamed at you to go back, urging you to keep moving, to ignore it, to leave. And yet… you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly, almost against your will, you pressed yourself up, just enough to peer back over the rooftop.
And there he was.
Sans.
A chill ran down your spine as you took him in, every detail both familiar and wrong all at once. His outfit was noticeably different. Instead of blue and white, he wore a black jacket with a red undershirt. Even from here you could tell his shoulders were tight, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
And his face… his face was twisted into a disdainful scowl, his eyelights a piercing, eerie red that reminded you of smoldering embers.
He's not him, you told yourself, almost fiercely, the words sharp in your head. He's not. This was a different universe and that was a completely different monster. And yet, your didn't move. A small, soft part of you dared to remember the quiet, easy grin he used to wear.
He turned just slightly, a glint of gold flashing in his mouth as he bared teeth in a mocking sneer at a nearby monster. The sight made your chest contract and you swallowed hard, jaw clenching as you forced yourself back down against the shingles, hiding from view. Your heart hammered in uneven, painful bursts, and you closed your eyes, gripping onto the words Flowey had warned you with.
He’s not the same.
The thought echoed through your mind as you crouched at the roof’s edge. The biting wind gnawed at your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the cold sinking into your chest. You exhaled, a shiver running down your spine as your breath puffed faintly in the frosty air. Then, with a quiet breath to steady yourself, you dropped down from the roof, snow crunching softly beneath your boots.
The urge to flee clawed at you, but you forced it down. One step at a time, you kept to the shadows, weaving through Snowdin’s eerily quiet streets..
Every face you passed twisted your stomach tighter. The monsters here, bitter, hollow-eyed, and wary, were nothing like the ones you remembered. You caught flashes of cold glares, sneers, and hunched shoulders, all radiating hostility.
Your focus wavered as your mind raced, and the thought of escape felt like a thread you couldn’t quite grasp. Turning a corner, you stepped back-
CRACK!
A bone shot past your face, the air vibrating with the sharp whistle of its movement. You gasped, stumbling back as the edge of the bone grazed your cheek. A fiery sting bloomed across your skin, and instinctively, you reached up, fingers brushing the fresh scratch. When you pulled your hand away, the smear of red against your fingertips made your stomach twist.
Your head snapped toward the source, and your breath caught in your throat.
A glowing red eye stared back at you, the intensity of it freezing you in place.
He stood just beyond the corner, slouched but radiating a suffocating presence that pressed against your chest like an iron grip. Hewas larger than you thought, taller than your Sans.
Even hunched slightly, he matched your height, the dark fur-lined hood of his jacket casting a faint shadow over his face. The jacket was frayed at the edges, the fur lining scorched and singed in patches.
The glow of his eyelight flickered, illuminating the sharp angles of his skull and the smirk that slowly spread across his face. It wasn’t the mischievous grin you remembered, it was something predatory.
The air around him seemed to pulse, thick and heavy with magic and you stiffened.
“well, well…” His voice broke the silence, low and gravelly, curling around you like smoke. He tilted his head, the motion slow, deliberate, and unnervingly calm. “what do we have here?”
He shifted his weight lazily, one shoulder rolling back as his hands stayed buried deep in his jacket pockets. This was something you recognized, feigned nonchalance. In reality, you knew he was anything but calm, in fact, he was looking at you like a predator sizing up its prey.
Your pulse spiked, your muscles coiling with alarm as his gaze locked onto you. That single, glowing socket bore into you, heavy with something darker than irritation. Contempt, maybe. Or worse, amusement.
Slowly you wiped at your cheek again, the sting grounding you even as your stomach churned. His sneer deepened, the sharp edges of his teeth catching the dim light as he leaned forward just enough to make the distance between you feel suffocating.
“didn’t anyone teach ya it’s rude to stare?” His words came slowly, each syllable dripping with mockery. The rasp in his tone made the hair on the back of your neck rise.
Your lips parted, and against your better judgment, words slipped out before you could stop them. “Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to try and kill someone?” The instant the words left your mouth, your chest tightened. The crackling tension in the air seemed to thrum louder, his gaze narrowing as his smirk curled wider. His head tilted further, his eyelight becoming brighter.
Then he chuckled, low and quiet, a sound that crawled under your skin and coiled in your gut. It wasn’t warm or playful, it was sharp, edged with a cruel amusement that made you feel smaller, weaker.
“heh. you’ve got guts, I’ll give ya that. shame that doesn’t usually help monsters out here,” he says, his voice dipping lower, a sharp edge to his words. “especially not humans.”
The words are meant to provoke you, to get under your skin. But instead of shrinking back, you hold your ground, for some reason you can't explain, you don't feel as much fear as you should've. Instead you deadpan. Of course he was going to threaten you, even in a different universe he was still a Sans.
His brow twitches, his jaw tightening as if your reaction had unsettled him, if only slightly. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, his expression snapping back into place like a mask he’s worn a thousand times. He takes a step closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, carrying a mix of smoke and faint traces of mustard.
“heh. ya got a death wish, huh?” he growls, his voice like gravel grinding against itself.
Your lips curl into a smirk of your own, “Maybe. It changes day by day.” For a moment, his eyelights flickers, glowing brighter, washing your cheeks in crimson. You can’t help but notice the faint scars etched into his skull, crossing in jagged lines over his cheekbone and near the corner of his mouth. The rough fabric of his red turtleneck shifts as his shoulders rise, the threads pulling slightly where it stretches over his collarbone.
You brace yourself, holding your ground, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if that alone could shield you from the storm brewing behind his sockets. His eyelight flickers, just briefly, toward the cut on your cheek, a tiny, involuntary pause that you almost miss. His gaze lingers, as if drawn to it, the glowing red dimming slightly, before he straightens abruptly and steps back, his chuckle low and jagged.
“guess ya don’t know who you’re dealin’ with. lucky for you, I’m in a real good mood today.” He shifts, he’s more relaxed now but still on guard as his head tilts, his sockets trailing over you again. You can feel the way he’s sizing you up, deciding whether you’re worth the effort.
His fingers drum against his leg for a beat before he taps his chin with a bony finger, his grin crooked.
“y’know,” he mutters, almost to himself, “probably should leave the human killin’ to the boss. wouldn’t wanna step on any toes.” His gaze sweeps over you one last time, the corner of his mouth curling in an almost lazy amusement. “besides, what fun is it killin’ new blood this early in the game?”
He let out a breath, the sound slow and deliberate, as if releasing some pent-up tension. His gloved hand rose to his face, lazily picking at something in his teeth, the motion so casual it felt almost mocking.
“anyway, you’ll get yourself killed, one way or another,” he said with a dismissive shrug. Annoyance surged within you, your brow furrowing. Whatever this was, this game, this act, you refused to let him see you as some kind of toy as someone who was weak. Straightening your spine, you stepped forward, glaring at him.
“I think you’ll find I can handle myself,” you snapped.
For a moment, his jaw paused mid-motion, the barest hitch as the corners of his mouth twitched. His grin shifted, just slightly, his expression unreadble. It wasn’t quite respect, but it lingered close enough to make your skin prickle. Then he laughed.
The sound was jarring, rough and uneven, like gravel tumbling down a steep hill. He threw his head back, the motion sudden, and you instinctively tensed as he practically doubled over.
“can’t tell if you’re brave or just stupid,” he chortled, his voice rattling as he wiped away an imaginary tear. The laughter rolled out of him in uneven bursts, his chest rising and falling beneath the red turtleneck that clung to him like it was just a second skin.
You didn’t flinch, even though every muscle in your body screamed for you to move, to react. His laugh finally tapered off into a low hum, the sound vibrating in the thick silence that followed.
“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” His grin curled wider as he spoke, studying your expression as if trying to find out what lie underneath your own mask. When he didn't find anything, his smirk grew wider.
“but hey,” he continued, his voice softening into something deceptively smooth, “let’s make it real clear, yeah? next time we meet, things won’t be so…” He trailed off, his socket flaring ominously as his grin stretched into something feral, “…pleasant.”
Your pulse pounded in your ears, the thrum almost deafening, but you didn’t let it show. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you repleid evenly, even as your nerves felt like a wire about to snap.
For a heartbeat, his grin seemed to widen impossibly further, teeth gleaming like a predator's before a kill. Then, without warning, he was gone. His form dissolving into bursts of static, a soundless, glitch that tore apart like smoke swept away by a violent wind.
And then there was silence.
It pressed down on you from all sides, heavy and suffocating. You stood frozen, rooted to the spot as adrenaline still coursed through your veins, refusing to fade away. Slowly, shakily, you exhaled, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your hand lingered near your side, fingers twitching, before curling into a fist.
What the hell was that?
The question burned through your mind as you took a cautious step back, then another. The snow crunched faintly beneath your boots, each sound unnervingly loud in the absence of any other noise. Turning away from the spot where he’d stood, you began moving out of the town, your steps hesitant at first.
This wasn’t home. This wasn’t even close. The streets of Snowdin was so alien, so different. And yet, some foolish, stubborn part of you still clung to the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something here that could feel like yours.
But every step away from the town chipped at that hope, scattering it like ice beneath your feet. By the time you reached the edge of the forest, you felt more and more hopeless. The snow crunched louder here, the sound sharper in the stillness of the trees. You wrapped your arms around yourself, less for warmth and more for some fragile sense of security.
What am I even searching for? The thought clawed at you, raw and desperate. You had no plan, no destination. Just the gnawing need to escape, to find something. Something that felt like home.
Your foot snagged on a hidden root, and you stumbled slightly, catching yourself against a low-hanging branch. The rough bark scraped against your palm, and huffing in frustration, you slapped it hard, making it shatter and fall to the ground.
The sharp sting in your palm grounded you, anchoring your thoughts for a fleeting moment. You stared at the branch, breathing hard, before letting your hand drop back to your side.
“What am I even doing…” you murmured, the words barely louder than a whisper.
Of course, no answer came, just the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the crunch of snow beneath your boots as you pushed forward into the forest. The ache in your chest didn’t fade, and the chill seeped deeper into your bones, but you kept moving.
Because stopping meant letting the weight of it all crush you, and you weren’t ready to give up yet.