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Sans doesn’t much care for sleeping. Sure, he loves napping, but sleeping? Not so much. There’s a difference, he insists. He doesn’t get nightmares when he naps, but when he sleeps, he does. Naps are too short to allow the nightmares to even begin. Going to sleep for an entire eight hours, though… That’s a different story.
He knows that Frisk understands better than anyone. What he doesn’t know is why Frisk understands.
“Hey, kid?” Sans pokes his head into Frisk’s room one night, hoping that they’ll be awake. Sure enough, the poor kid is sitting tucked against the wall, one of Toriel’s many books about snails in their hands and a flashlight to see the pages with. They look up at the sound of Sans’ voice and smile, putting down the book and waving at him. Sans gives a small sigh of relief. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”
Frisk signs “As usual,” and Sans chuckles, walking inside and shutting Frisk’s bedroom door.
“Sure hope Toriel doesn’t kill me for comin’ in so late,” he says. Frisk scoots over and pats the spot next to them. Sans gladly sits down. “I mean, she did say I was welcome any time, and I’m pretty sure right now counts as ‘any time.’” He winks, and Frisk offers a silent laugh. “I kinda thought I might just go for a walk since I couldn’t sleep, but… I ended up here instead. Maybe I should start doin’ this all the time.”
Frisk beams, nodding happily. Despite the clear approval on their face, Sans can still make out the bags under their eyes, even in the dark. It’s funny, he thinks, that the only reason Sans ever caught on to the fact that something was wrong with Frisk was the sudden appearance of dark bags under their eyes, but Frisk could tell from the start that there was something wrong with Sans despite Sans not being able to do anything but grin.
“What’s wrong?” Frisk had written on a napkin at Grillby’s. Sans had blinked at them.
“Why would anything be wrong, kiddo?” He hadn’t even gotten to talk to them about the flower yet and they could already tell something was up.
“It’s okay,” Frisk wrote, “to be sad.”
Sans had to force himself not to look like he’d been caught. “I’m not sad,” he denied. “I’m chipper as always.”
Frisk had given them a pointed stare before writing, “You were sad when I first met you, you were sad when I was solving Papyrus’s puzzles, and you’re sad now.”
Sans was rendered speechless for a moment, wondering how in hell this kid could see through him like that. “I, uh…” he’d said when he’d found his voice again, “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, bucko. I get a little bonely sometimes, but that’s it. You’re thinkin’ too much for someone as little as you.”
Frisk had rolled their eyes.
“I’m sad too,” they’d written. “I don’t want to say why, but I’m sad. If you don’t want to say why, that’s okay. Just say that you’re sad, because I know that you are.”
Sans had stared at them, words once again lost in his throat. It had taken him longer than he would have liked for him to speak. “Okay, kid. I’m sad.”
Frisk had given a small smile. “See?” They’d written. “It’s okay to be sad.”
Sans hadn’t been sure about that.
He’s still not sure about it.
“Eh, don’t get your hopes up, kid,” Sans says, ruffling their hair. “I think if I came over here at this hour all the time, Toriel would bury me alive.”
Frisk shrugs, signing that it’s okay, even if Sans only comes over sometimes it would still be nice.
Sans takes a look at the book Frisk is holding, making a face and gently taking it from them. “How about we don’t read about snails, okay? Why were you reading that anyway?” He pokes Frisk’s tummy and the child giggles silently, swatting Sans’ hand away.
“Nothing else to read,” Frisk signs. “Let friend at school borrow my fairy tale book.”
Sans nods in understanding. “Ahh, see, there was your first mistake,” he says. “Your second mistake, obviously, was even thinking about reading a book about snails when you got a cool buddy to bring over equally cool books to read instead. You know you can call any time, bud.”
Frisk nods at Sans’ words, then asks him if he did happen to bring over any books.
“‘Course I did,” Sans says, reaching into his hoodie and pulling out a thick book. “How’s the Brothers Grimm sound, huh?”
Frisk grins, nodding happily.
Sans opens the book to the table of contents, pausing for a moment. He doesn’t take his eyes off the book as he asks, “Hey, Frisk… are you still sad?”
Frisk’s silence following his question prompts Sans to look at them. He’s met with tired eyes and a small frown. Frisk nods.
“I kinda figured,” Sans sighs. “Were you sad before you fell?”
Another nod.
“Then how come you didn’t look so dang tired down there?”
More silence. Frisk looks away from Sans. They put the flashlight between their knees so the light faces the ceiling and spreads dimly throughout the room. Slowly, they lift their hands, still not making eye contact with Sans.
“I was away from them.”
Sans blinks. “Them?”
“Mom and Dad.”
Oh.
“Ah, kid…” Sans lifts a hand up slowly, and when Frisk doesn’t flinch or shy away, he hooks his arm around their shoulders, pulling them in close to him. They immediately burrow into his side and Sans swears he can feel their pain resonating in his fucking soul. “They did bad things, huh?”
Frisk nods into his hoodie.
“Yeah.” Sans shakes his head. “So why are you freaking out now? I mean, I know we’re back on the surface and all, but… You’re not anywhere near them anymore. You’ve got all of us, dude.”
“Was an orphan for a year,” Frisk signs. “Was taken away from Mom and Dad because they were bad. Fell down into your home, now we’re here. Don’t want to be taken away again.”
Sans feels a pang of sadness in his bones. “You’re not gonna get taken away again, kid,” he says. “You’re stayin’ here as long as Toriel wants you to.”
“Everyone wanted to hurt me down there,” Frisk signs, and Sans hears a sniffle. Oh, god, no. They’re crying. “Had to fight lots of monsters. Scary, but not like Mom and Dad.”
Sans wants to cry just from hearing the kid cry. He holds them a little bit closer in a gesture of comfort, setting his hand in their hair. “I bet,” he says with a nod. “Y’know, you’re one tough kid, Frisk. You saved a whole lotta monsters and lemme tell ya, we’re always gonna be there to save you, too. You don’t have to fight anyone anymore and you’re not gonna get taken away. We all love ya a skele-ton.”
He feels Frisk shaking and he can’t tell if it’s from laughter or sobs. When the child looks up at him, however, he can see that they’re grinning even with tear-stained cheeks.
“Thank you,” they sign. “I love you.”
Sans always feels a little bit warmer whenever Frisk tells him and Papyrus that they love them. He thinks of the child as part of his family and loves them to death, so the fact that they love him and his brother in return is beyond awesome.
“Your turn,” Frisk signs and Sans tilts his head in confusion. “Why are you sad?”
“Oh, god, kid,” Sans groans softly. “Really?”
Frisk nods up at him. “Fair.”
He knows they’re right and he hates it. But god, he doesn’t want to talk about this. He hardly even talks about it with Papyrus. Maybe that’s because Papyrus already knows, but still. He hasn’t told anyone about it in a long time and he definitely doesn’t want to.
Oh, well. If he’s gonna tell anyone, it should be Frisk.
“Alright, well, yeah. I’m still sad.” Sans shrugs. “I don’t like to sleep for too long, ‘cause… uh, well, I have these really bad dreams. Nightmares, I guess. Like you do. And they’re, like, really vivid. All about Papyrus dying or disappearing and sometimes the rest of you guys disappear too. It’s stupid, but…” He pauses to look at Frisk, and upon seeing the deadpan glare on their face, he leans back a little. “What? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that? I- oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He slumps back down, closing his eyes. “I guess we’re pretty much scared of the same thing, huh? Losin’ everybody. It’s not so stupid, then.”
Frisk’s deadpan expression melts into a sad one, their body relaxing back into Sans’ side. Sans rubs their arm, chuckling.
“Damn,” he says softly. “Guess I kinda wish I woulda told you about that sooner.”
Frisk doesn’t respond, and in the silence, Sans thinks he can hear their heart beating.
“So,” he says, “how about that story, kid?”
Frisk nods, and Sans opens the book to the first story. “Alright, Sleeping Beauty . Once upon a time…”
It doesn’t matter to Sans that it took them another two and a half hours to fall asleep, Frisk tucked into his side and Sans’ head lolling against the wall behind him. What matters is that for the first time in a long time, neither of them have any nightmares, and they both feel a little more at peace with themselves.
Maybe it is okay to be sad.