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Bare, white phalanges rapped on ancient, weather-worn wood. “Knock, knock.”
A feminine voice returned, and the smile could be heard in her inflection. “Who is there?”
“Etch.”
“Etch who?”
“Bless you.”
The voice on the other side of the door laughed and Sans closed his eyes, letting the sunshine concentrated in that giggle wash over him like a warm wave from a sea he’s only heard stories about.
“Knock, knock,” Sans began again.
“Who is there?”
“A broken pencil.”
“A broken pencil who?”
“Never mind. It’s pointless.” Sans let out a deep sigh. He was unsure if his friend would be able to hear it from the other side of the door, but his mandible clenched tighter, breathing out words that almost hurt to form: “Just like everything else.”
She chuckled gently at the punchline, falling quiet just in time to hear his soft lamentation. She hesitated. “Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Boo.”
“Boo who?”
“Why are you crying?”
Sans was silent for a moment, scratching at the snow with the tip of a finger. He leaned his head back, tapping the back of his skull against the wooden door. Snow drifted from the sky lazily. “Hey, Tori?”
On the other side of the door, Toriel fiddled with her thumbs, eyes worried as she turned her head slightly to hear her friend’s lowered voice. “Yes, Sans?”
There was another pause. “Will you still remember me in a month?”
“Of course I will.”
“What about in a year?”
“I will always remember you, Sans.”
The skeleton was quiet again, and Toriel could visualize him nodding slowly. Her heart ached for the jokester. He made light of every situation, no matter how serious or dire or downright depressing it was. He seemed to only be able to open up in the form of bad puns, and Tori wanted little more than to wrap him up in her arms and make everything better.
“Hey, Tori?”
“Yes?”
“Knock, knock.”
“Who is there?”
Melted snowflakes dripped from the precipice of Sans’s eye sockets, mixing with the tears that conjured themselves there. “See? You forgot me already.”