Chapter Text
She was singing in the shower again, the sound of her voice and the water hitting her shoulders bleeding through the wall next to him. Sans probably shouldn’t listen in, but what could stop him from doing so? The walls in his apartment were practically paper thin, and she always showered in the mornings before he left for work, and sometimes in the evenings. And she always sang.
In fact, when he first moved in the shabby little apartment building, he’d been about to teleport out when the first notes had reached his non-existent ears. He’d stopped to listen and was hooked ever since. It became part of his routine. Wake up, throw on whatever clothes he found on the floor, drink some mustard with his cereal, and then sit and listen, skull resting against the wall where his living room met her bathroom.
She was a little off key today, not that it mattered much. The sound of her voice was his, and his alone, something that meant so much to a skeleton that owned next to nothing: his apartment was practically bare, the only things filling the space were the furniture that came with the apartment and his own sorry bones.
“I’m like a child looking off in the horizon, I’m like an ambulance that’s turning on the sirens, o-o-oh, I’m still alive. I’m like a soldier coming home for the first time; I dodged a bullet and I walked across a landmine, o-o-oh, I’m still alive.”
Even after Monsterkind had left the underground and become citizens, Sans had never really felt welcomed by the human populace, not that he could blame them. He relished the fact that he was still an intimidating figure, but… because of this, he never mustard up enough courage to actually meet his human neighbors, choosing instead to let his key become lost in his thick jacket’s pockets, using his shortcuts to get in and out of his apartment.
“Am I bleeding? Am I bleeding from the storm? Just shine a light into the wreckage, So far away, away~”
In here, he could relax, drop the ever present scowl and even sometimes smile when his neighbor dropped something in the shower and her pretty voice dissolved into angry swearing or inconsolable giggling.
Sans listened to her sing a little bit of everything until the water stopped and the rattle of the curtain being drawn back prompted him to open his eyes and –reluctantly—get on with his day.
He was late of course, but Boss accepted his lame excuse eventually, after a lengthy tongue lashing of course. Sans had stopped caring about being late and riling up Papyrus a few months back. The taller skeleton of course noticed, but as Sans went about as usual, said nothing and chalked up his brother’s new behavior to finally, finally, being on the surface.
As long as nothing stopped him from listening to her shower sessions, Sans was almost content.
~
You were in Graduate school, and had moved off campus two years ago into a tiny (and cheap!) apartment just big enough for you and your dog, a golden retriever-Labrador mix named Sunflower. You were studying to become a teacher, and all your classes were in the evenings, and your work didn’t start until 11, so you had enough time each morning to take a nice long shower (which was usually hot, but sometimes that jerk on the floor above you, who you swore got up at 3 each morning to take a loud and splashy bath just to spite you).
You still sang in the shower, even though your neighbors down the hall promised that the walls were thin as heck and you could hear everything; because you lived at the end of the hall, and you knew your voice wasn’t bad, your one, still to be seen neighbor(s?) had yet to complain. Maybe they were really heavy sleepers or they got up and left quietly super early.
Either way, singing your heart out helped the mornings to go by a little easier.
Then it was off to the middle school where you worked as an assistant teacher. You gathered up your books and made sure your backpack and lunch were ready to go. Stopping by the front door, you whistled, and Sunflower was by your side in a heartbeat, nuzzling your leg with his cold nose. You chuckled and scratched behind his ear before slipping on his halter and letting him lead you out of your apartment.
With the door locked, you and Sunflower skipped the elevator, the faithful canine leading down the steps without incident, just like the day before, and every day before that. When you made it outside, you shivered at the cold air that broke on your cheeks. You wondered if it was cloudy.
Sunflower barked happily and tugged you gently down the street, the routine and routes burned into his mind just as much as they were into yours, no need to tell him where to go.
You could hear people walking past and around you, chatting, listening to tinny music you could barely make out through headphones, and avoiding you. Once they saw Sunflower in his guide dog harness leading you, they tended to steer clear.
Something about your blankly staring eyes made people uncomfortable. Usually you wore sunglasses, to conceal your vacant gaze, but your last pair had been forgotten in a metro bathroom.
That was the other thing making your life complicated, as if college and a full time job weren’t enough for a 22 year old to deal with.
You were completely blind.