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Grillby didn’t see his parents very often, and that was for good reason—reason well represented by the dark purple and red flames that flickered on Grillby’s cheek. Low and weakened by force.
Today, Grillby decided to walk through Waterfall instead of taking the ferry. He wanted to walk, clear his head. Perhaps he also liked the sting of humidity dampening his flames. Maybe the cold was good for him, it had gotten far too heated back there.
He’d grown rather fond of cold recently…
Not that his father would ever feel the same.
He’d been dating Sans for nearly half a year now, the two of them happier than ever. Papyrus approved of them, Snowdin town loved them together…
But when Grillby would hug Sans, every now and then he’d feel a gut wrenching nausea. Because he was still scared of what would happen if news reached his parents. Not for himself, but for his lovely partner. He’d hug Sans harder in these moments.
He stepped over puddles, walked over bridges callously, uncaring of what could very well be his full and fair deathbed below the old wood.
The transition from Waterfall to Snowdin wasn’t too jarring comfort-wise. It was still wet, but it wasn’t humid.
He wanted to sleep, to go home after everything and just pretend it hadn’t happened. Instead of making a beeline for his restaurant however, he stopped in front of Sans’ house.
It was rather late, but Sans wasn’t one to sleep much at night. The lights were on, but Papyrus wasn’t either one to sleep at all either. Sans would surely love to talk…
Eyeing the doorknob, hope lost and crushed by the strange loneliness he felt, he walked away and to his home.
The bar looked like an oil painting, but Grillby hadn’t noticed that detail.
In this place, the warm, lively, intense atmosphere that usually filled his establishment had no presence. Whatever whisper could’ve been left behind by such a scene wouldn’t survive the dark purple and blue shadows that filled every corner. Wherever his light couldn’t reach, the shadows moved and stretched. Wherever his light was weak, the shadows would eat it. For once, it seemed like light was the absence of darkness.
And that’s how he felt here, shrouded and dampened. Smothered by these strange yet familiar shadows.
Despite all of this, he cleaned. He cleaned and cleaned in the empty bar until it began to fill with the figure shadows of his patrons. The shadows, without their owners, sat at their usual tables and stools and began to converse and play cards. Grillby served them, and he did so without any usual thanks. Shadows didn’t care where their liquor came from.
Whatever amount of time that had passed stretched and shrunk to feel like he was stuck there for hours—yet only had seconds to serve and clean. The hushed murmurs of the shadows’ drunken hollers and hiccups were carried by the wind. Their voices were somewhere, but they weren’t with Grillby.
Pushing soot from the ground into the dark corners of the room, he thought nothing much. This was another day, a stranger day, but a working day. This was how he’d gotten out back then. Every day he could work with the option of slowing down was a day he would then honor his younger self by doing more. That math made sense to him, at least.
Then for no reason at all—or at least from what Grillby could tell—he was snapped out of the trance. The switch felt as if he’d been shaken in a box like a children’s toy— absolutely jarring. He looked around, confusion taking over that now faint feeling of nothingness. His search abruptly ended when he spotted the door, fully ajar with the doorway shrouded by a bright, white light.
Sans stepped out of the light. Not his shadow, but Sans. He wasn’t his usual self though, as in he was…glowing. Though not in a figurative sense, literally—like how Grillby did, a nice warm orange. Sans calmly sat at his seat, as though completely unaware of the strange and twisty world they were pretending was their real home.
Now, this Sans didn’t seem as ready to prank or tease as Grillby’s Sans did, but he was warm. He was the only thing warm about this whole place. Was that a new thing…? It seemed obvious enough to quickly say no, yet…
Grillby took small steps towards him as small, firefly-like lights flickered into life around the room. They floated hesitantly, then slowly they began to dance around him and Sans. Faintly as they moved, Grillby could hear them. They sounded like soft wind chimes, like the ones you hear from down the street that remind you that you aren’t alone. They swirled in patterns as though carried by the wind, twinkling and singing with hushed love. Their light was also like his own. Something was so comforting about Sans and the lights. What was it?
He found himself by Sans’ side already as this thought began to spread in his mind. Looking at the skeleton—not with concern, but instead wonder—he then thought to himself.
What made him glow? What made him himself, and not a shadow?
He went around Sans, watching him curiously. Hand on the counter, he continued until he ended up in his spot behind the counter, right before him. Sans looked calm, his eyes closed and his smile content. No—not calm, but…unreal. He seemed almost like a porcelain doll, still, without any reaction.
Why are you the difference?
The lights had dispersed, but they stuck around the two, simply hovering in their places as Grillby studied this Sans. Grillby slightly flinched as one poked him near his eye. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly in surprise, though it hadn’t taken very long for him to open them again to see the little light that had done it.
A light, one a bit on the smaller side from the ones Grillby had seen, fluttered and hovered close to his face. The surprise had already worn off into curiosity, and the little thing obviously sensed as such. It circled his head, then stopped right in front of his eyes.
Then it landed on his face, like a butterfly. And it didn’t burn. Just as it did, however, he also felt something on his hand—the one resting on the counter by…
He looked beyond the light to see Sans, now with his eyes open and his eyelights staring right at him, calm and familiar. When Grillby caught sight of Sans’ hand gently placed over his own, he also found that the countertop beneath them was… melting. Not into oblivion, but some sort of dark frost was melting off of it—revealing a bright, wooden counter beneath it.
Grillby’s eyes widened at the sight, and the little light on his face fluttered away. The melting slowly stopped, and left there was a small patch of the counter thawed.
It certainly wasn’t from his fire—he’d been wiping these counters all morning! All…Night? The past few days? Nevermind that…
He looked up at Sans, whose eyes were still open, but looking away from him—of course, his smile was as soft and content as ever. His eyes darted between Sans and their hands…
Another difference.
Grillby softly laughed at this, how confusing it all was… Sans was the warm one here, with that glow. This was unlike his Sans—who he knew this… wasn’t, at least not fully. His Sans was cold temperature-wise, a type of cold that was fascinating to Grillby. He could now tell why Sans would always lean into and figuratively melt when he was with Grillby.
Sans softly laughed too, smiling brighter, and the patch under their hands thawed further.
Speaking of, Grillby wasn’t sure of why he hasn’t taken his hand back yet. The touch was nice, maybe.
Nevermind that, what had just happened…? Why was the counter frozen in the first place? Questions he should’ve been asking earlier were now catching up to him, but not in time to stick—as he snapped back to the scene when Sans stood up.
Sans’ hand pressed gently onto Grillby’s own now, and the skeleton began to drag both of their hands across the counter. He slowly walked as he did this, and Grillby could only follow along with curiosity and confusion filling the space in his mind where he should’ve had answers.
As Sans brought their hands along, the counter melted with them. The thawing reached further than their small path from before had—though that was probably because of the soft huffs of laughter the two were sharing as they did the strange act.
The melting spread had spread to even beyond their hands, the darkness fading down the sides of the countertop and on the floor beneath it. Eventually it would find its way to the walls, where small cracks of light would climb up like vines- then spread further. His restaurant was being revealed. The true, warm, comforting one. The one Grillby worked so hard in his youth to have. His dream come true.
Then it was obvious. The answers—or at least some of them—were right there. It might’ve been fine before him, but now… without Sans, his restaurant wasn’t the same. It wasn’t that dream, because that dream had to have him there.
He loved him. He loved Sans. He brought a different warmth than temperature.
This Sans smiled back at him, like he knew what he was thinking.
And everything was good. Things kept melting.
Until they didn’t.
Suddenly, the air was sucked out of the room, and there was complete darkness besides Sans and himself. The little lights were all gone, so were the shadows of the patrons. Grillby’s eyes darted around, looking for a source. Sans stood still, face blank.
The door flew open then, with that same bright light obscuring the outside. Then—purple—
Please.
Please, please no. Don’t do this.
Despite his pleas to whoever, his father stepped through.
The dark swirls and shadows grew from the corners, absorbing Sans and Grillby’s light.
Grillby couldn’t process the idea—but somehow, his light was taken from him. He produced nothing, and it was dark. He looked down at his hands, trying to figure out what was dim about them. His flames still flickered and sparked, yet his colors were being darkened by shadows, as if he were Sans—for example—rather than a flame.
His breath hitched with worry and fear when he remembered Sans. He looked up from his hand to find the skeleton. His light was gone as well, and his gaze stayed focused on the bright purple by the door.
“Don’t take him from me.” Grillby’s voice said, the sentence spilling out as a whisper before he could stop it. He hadn’t meant to speak, he wasn’t even sure if he could before then. Despite his thoughts, he unwillingly spoke again, “Don’t hurt him.”
Then the light was suddenly gone and the room went pitch black. The last thing he saw was the look in Sans’ eyes, and the last thing he heard was Sans screaming.
The screaming continued as things started to feel more detached, the black began to look grey, and—
Grillby shot up from his bed, fire ablaze and crackling wildly with fear. Grillby tried to breathe, but through the hyperventilation and panic—it felt like he was suffocating. Still, suffocating.
He grasped at his shirt and his chest, holding the fabric in a clenched fist. A sound started to seep in through the ringing…a voice?
He rubbed harshly at his eyes as he whined in discomfort—
Something touched him in that moment and he sharply gasped, doing his best to scramble away from whatever or whoever it was. His sight was blurred—which didn’t help with the panic.
“…….h….”
“gri…llby…?”
“……….ey, breathe—“
The voice started to make sense through the static in his mind. Not only that, but there was a strangely comforting energy in the room—similar in feeling to healing magic.
The feeling allowed him to breathe, just enough to feel like air was flowing.
“…..breathe, s’okay…” the gentle voice spoke, and Grillby hesitantly obliged, taking an unnecessarily deep breath—in and out. He shut his eyes tight, trying to focus on something… perhaps his rapid soulbeat calming? The thumping was a nice noise as it slowly began to take on a regular pace.
Thump-thump…
“…..hey, s’alright… didn’t mean………scare ya’…”
Thump-thump…
“do……..water….? no—wait….that’s not it….”
Thump-thump…
He opened his eyes to a blur again, though with a clearer mind, his vision seemed to clear to his standard. He could vaguely make out his room… and a white—blue blob of color ahead of him…
Was… that…?
“Sans…?” He said, and then he realized how hoarse and sore his voice sounded and felt. Was he coming down with a cold? Oh… he must’ve spent too much time in waterfall—
“grillbz…?” The blob—who was most certainly Sans—quietly asked back, “uh….here,” Sans added. He then handed something to the flame…something… oh!
He opened up his glasses and put them on, blinking to focus his eyes. There was Sans, watching him with worry and confusion. Now…Grillby was worried and confused himself. Why was he here…? What happened? A nightmare…
Sans’ expression softened with care as he shifted closer to Grillby, “you were screaming…”
Ah, so… that explains it. It also explains nothing much.
“….I was…?” Grillby said along with a sigh as he tilted his head, mimicking Sans and shifting closer to him as well, “how did you get here?… why?”
Sans’ bright eyelights flickered with hesitation, “uh, well—“ he awkwardly laughed, “i don’t really know, i guess i had this… really bad feeling—here.” He explained, and after a brief look into Grillby’s eyes, he rubbed at his sternum.
His… soul?
“got here ‘s soon as i could, and you were mumbling in your sleep… i wasn’t sure what to do,” Sans added, “—was so scared for you.”
Grillby’s dream was fading, aside from a few horrific, curious, and lovely moments. He waved a few flames away from his eyes, feeling a small smile form on his face without his permission.
“you okay…? do you need- like… some wood to eat or something? i can teleport to hotland in an instant—just ask-“
Grillby wrapped his arms around the skeleton, feeling the skeletons' structure figuratively melt just slightly with the embrace.
“…I’m glad you’re okay.” Grillby said into the crook of the other’s neck. He felt Sans’ resulting confused but glad chuckle reverberate through his soul.
“…ditto, hotstuffs.”
He had Sans in his arms, and maybe what he’d seen was a strange, reality-bending expression of the bad ending—say his father somehow did find out.
I’m reality, he wasn’t a kid anymore, and Sans certainly wasn’t fragile. They’d take care of each other, and nothing would separate them.
“love you.”
“I love you too…..”