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It isn’t as if he hasn’t had these moments before. Quiet, peaceful, even content. Killer thought he was incapable of such after so long in the hellhole of his timeline, but here he was. As if he deserved it all.
He stares out into the sunset, his knees pulled up to his chest. It’s been a while since he wore his old jacket. Though it was comfortable, it reeked of blood and dust that would never wash out, and the less he looked like Sans the better he felt. Sometimes he thought of wearing it again, just to let the comforting weight of his sins weigh him down and into a fitful rest, but truth be told: after a particularly bad night, he burnt it. Now, there was no way he could look like Sans again- unless he stole someone else’s jacket.
Killer hasn't done that yet. All he's done, since the fire blew out and left only the smoldering, red embers- is sit here on this cliff and stare at the sun.
He's already thought about it. Jumping, just to feel the thrill of it race through him one final time. He'd be free from everything at all, no more voices or puppeteering or feeling like a stranger in a body he thought he knew. The thought of dying after so long being denied his choice or the ability to once was exhilarating to him. Now, he just feels tired- and the denial is easier.
The sun is nice, he thinks. The sky is, too. The colors, blue, orange, yellow, they blend together in such a pleasant and soft way. Killer thinks that humanity is lucky to have such a thing. Killer wonders if he could have this too, if he could only stay this way forever- peaceful, quiet, content.
Respite is only cast to him in moments, like sneaking bites between long periods of starvation. In these peaceful, fleeting times, he is reminded so intensely of how beautiful life can be. If only it could be so easy to remember, to feel and experience this sensation of awe and to sink into the sound of the world when it doesn't hate him. When he doesn't want to burn everything in sight.
Killer takes a deep breath.
It's worth it. He tries to remember this sunrise, to hold out for the next. It will be worth it.