Chapter Text
"What were you just writing?"
"Nothing."
"You were clearly writing something"
"It's none of your business, Sans." For a guy who's too lazy to get off of the couch, he sure is persistent.
"Is it like a diary?"
"No."
"So what is it."
I sigh. My head was already hurting from earlier and this wasn't making it much better, "If I tell you, will you shut up."
He chuckles, "Sure."
I sit up and look at him. He was sitting up as well, his back against the wall and a book on his lap.
"It's a list. I'm suppose to write a hundred true things and supposedly find something fascinating when I complete it."
A pause. "Maybe it's not something that you're trying to find. Not here at least."
"Huh" I ask stupidly.
Sans closes his book, a phalange holding his place, and looks at me straight in the eyes.
"Maybe you're trying to find something," he points a boney finger at the place where my heart is, "in yourself."