Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Sixteen, Part One

Two weeks passed by since the incident involving the tutoring lessons. An empty feeling similar to that of melancholy lasted whenever you came to pick up Faust Fridays at five -- an hour earlier than usual to fit the changes your ex agreed on -- and come home to an empty, quiet house. During those three months, you’d grown used to having someone around your home once a week. Hearing the two discuss the math problems had, in a way, become a therapeutic experience for you, and even more so when the skeleton stayed an hour or two later to chat with you.

You look at the calendar and then at the old wall clock of your living room, calculating it was currently noon thirty on a Saturday. You reach for your cellphone and hover your finger on Sans’s number, reluctant to listen to your thoughts and the pull in your heart. It had become hard to stay in touch with him ever since the schedule changes, and you were beginning to grow tempted on asking if he wanted to go out sometime. A sharp, metallic taste stops you from chewing on the inside of your lip as you tune back to Earth. Another split second of uncertainty crosses your mind as you click the ‘call’ button, hearing it beep twice before he picks up.

“Hello?”

You almost yelp with how loud the voice is, recognizing it as Papyrus’s, and manage to smile through the pain despite knowing he couldn’t see you. “Hey, Papyrus! How’re you doing?”

“I'm doing well, (Y/N)! Sans is currently showering right now, but I can tell him you called! Is there something in particular you wanted to speak with him?”

“No, not really,” you dismiss, an awkward laugh following after your words. “I just wanted to catch up with him on some stuff.”

“Is it to ‘hang out’?” he questions, the way he says those last words making it seem as this were a foreign concept to him. “He has been saying recently how he misses the days you-”

“I’ll take it from here, Paps.”

The abrupt change in the caller’s voice leaves you stricken. You press your phone closer to your ear, hoping to hear what the two brothers were discussing between themselves. The only few words you’re able to decipher is something along the lines of ‘Lucky I got here on time’.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Sans asks, his lower tone of voice a drastic change from the cheerful and naturally loud tone of his younger brother. “Been a while since we talked like this.”

“Yeah. . .” you mutter, a phantom smile reaching your face. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang out today? . . .If you’re not busy and all, of course.”

“I’m not,” he replies, amusement present in those words. “This week was pretty light, so I woke up at eleven today. I’ve got no plans for the rest of the day, ‘sides from reading through some new school policies Tori needs to look over for Monday.”

“Do you guys need help with anything, then? I could always do some research before she has to turn them in.”

“It’s fine -- We’ve got some people looking over them already, but I’ll let you know if we need more help.”

You conclude that topic with an ‘alright’ and move on to settling on the hour and location you would meet up at. The last thing you hear as he says goodbye is Papyrus asking what he planned to wear for your outing. By the way the call ends shortly after that, you figure he’d forgotten to hang up before heading over to his brother. You laugh to yourself as soon as you check the call had truly ended, against the idea of embarrassing him further by letting him know you’d been listening all along.

Energy rises within you as you set the phone down on the coffee table. You rise from the couch and head over to the kitchen drawers. There, you take out a pen and a sticky note from the second drawer, placing the yellow paper on the counter as you begin composing a quick heads up for your ex.

“I went out to run some errands. I'll be back by 7.” — (Y/N)

Though there was the option of sending them a message and be done with it much faster, there was the risk of them asking for specificity. You were more than done arguing with them about what you were choosing to do now that you weren’t together any longer, and it was turning harder each passing month to have a discussion with them without making compromises over any discrepancy you had between you.

★

A collective laugh fills the room with a sense of tranquility and contentment, the hospitality of the bartender adding volumes to the comfort of your surroundings. You take a sip from the coffee in hand after blowing some of the steam away, the bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue and warming up your face. The cup is set back down as you turn your head left and then right to take in the aspects of the establishment.

From the worn billiard set, the poker table, and the collection of fine and antique alcohol bottles hidden behind the bartender and her boss, it was clear this place was still meant to stand out more at night. The ‘family diner’ aesthetic it tried to keep until five in the evening crumbled whenever you took a closer look at these things, masked only by the bright and cheery menu advertising food and drinks both children and adults could consume freely.

You snap out of it the moment you feel a hand on yours, the cool feeling of bone making recognize the person without having to look up -- though that doesn’t stop you from doing just that, onset to see why the skeleton had chosen to reach out for you. Your eyes adjust to the sight of him busy talking with a duck monster, and you go into deeper observation to see his phone just a few inches away from where your hands laid at. His hand had gone just a little farther from his stool and landed on your own, missing the phone entirely.

Instinctively, you pull back and are presented with him turning around to face you. His irises fall on your face, then your hands, and -- finally -- to his phone. It doesn’t take any words for him to pull back and look away again, muttering a haste but earnest apology from his teeth.

“. . .”

You aren’t given much time to dwell over that scenario, already reeled into another conversation by the owner of the establishment himself.

“Excuse me? I didn’t catch you the first time, sir.”

Although he required a translator for most people to understand him, you still wanted to keep the polite customs of asking again. His employee -- and presumably, also his daughter -- steps in, her small, dot-like eyes squinted in a way of mimicking a smile.

“He asks if there’s something going on between you and that guy,” she explains, whispering those last words to avoid the subject of conversation from overhearing what she said.

“No,” you respond, almost instantly, smiling to mask the embarrassment you felt creeping on your shoulders. You remember Papyrus’s words and cling onto them. “We’re just hanging out.”

“. . .”

Giggling from the fire girl’s part makes you raise an eyebrow, curious as to what Grillby had said to make her react that way. You wait to hear her upcoming translation, though she turns back around one more time to make sure she had heard him right.