Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Seventeen

The next day, you’re still thinking about what happened at Grillby’s. You reflect on the tension that put in your relationship with Sans and pretty much every other monster you came across with, adding to those thoughts the long time you had been waiting for your ex to be back permanently -- to split the time you each spent looking after Faust. Today, according to your calendar, marked a year and a half since your divorce, and a year since they went away and left you with Faust seven days a week. Reflecting on any of these three subjects was becoming a burden to you. All you wanted at this moment was some peace of mind to continue preparing the dough for the bread.

“We need two more pounds at the register, (Y/N)!” your boss exclaims from the front desk, the sound of people chatting making it hard for you to hear her clearly. “And a separate one for another customer!”

You sweep off three long loaves of bread from the stock -- one wrapped individually -- and rush out of the kitchen. There’s a lengthy line behind her register, and you can see a few people growing impatient with the wait by the way they tap their foot or cross their arms. You hand her the three pounds of bread and ask if she needs anything else.

“A dozen glazed doughnuts and the ice cream cake I put in the freezer,” she instructs, taking the bread from your hands. “The client requests ‘Happy Birthday’ written in purple icing.”

“You got it, boss,” you reply, nodding as you turn to leave back to the kitchen. It was still hard for you to process how different this job was from the one as an officer keeping watch on the streets.

The familiar scent of bread and pastries wafts through the air as you rush back in, keeping your boss’s orders listed on your mind. You choose to ice the cake first and place it in a small, white box after finishing with the second ‘y’ on ‘Happy’ Birthday’. You take that box along with the dozen of doughnuts back to the front counter, carefully holding onto both items with both your hands while you use your hip to push the door open.

“Thanks, honey.” Your boss takes the two boxes away from your hands and places them on the counter. Then, she excuses herself from the customer in front of her and turns to you, wiping her hands on the white towel hanging on her pocket before continuing. “Take twenty -- the shopkeeper bunny I told you about will take care of the back for the next few hours, so we’ll be covered while you’re gone.”

You nod and set yourself on going to the employee’s lounge. There, you untie and take off your flour-stained apron and the hair net wrapped around your scalp. Once that’s out of the way, the items are set aside on the small couch set on a corner of the room, and you make sure to look at yourself in the mirror hanging above the furniture before doing anything else. The memory of the flour in your hair makes you check twice around.

“Hey. . .”

That single word is whispered behind you. The ghostly sound almost makes you retaliate towards the direction of that voice, but you hold yourself back when coming across a winged monster half your size. Her face is contorted into one of fear and her small body shakes, most likely ready to endure whatever form of attack you were going to direct right at her face. Embarrassed, you cough and adjust yourself before apologizing.

“Sorry about that,” you speak up, words coming out muttered and about as quiet as the eerie whisper most likely meant to be an inoffensive greeting on the Whimsun's part. “You scared me -- I didn’t think another employee would be showing up besides the bunny woman.”

“I get that a lot,” the Whimsun replies, giggling. “I’m not very good at speaking too loud. . . so people always say I’m more like a ghost than an actual Whimsun.”

“Still, I'm sorry -- I could've hurt you.” you insist, now looking to introduce yourself to make up scare she'd give you, and vice versa. “It’s nice to meet you miss. . .” You squint to see the nametag on her pink apron. “Sunny?”

“Yup!” she replies, her frail expression changing into a bright and happier one. “I was nicknamed that by my friends when we saw the Sun for the first time here.”

“Oh. . .” You feel your body freeze at her comment, the way she says it almost making it hard for you to believe monsters like her were still experiencing things for the first time here at the Surface. “What about the stars? It’s pretty hard to see them here in the city, but the towns across have lots of them.”

“I’ve seen them, too!” she chirps. “The sparkling rocks at Waterfall were nice. . . but the stars here are something else!”

You smile at her excitement and walk with her to the small couch. Rather than going out to take in the air outside the bakery, the two of you chat about the differences between Waterfall and the Surface until your twenty minutes run out. She even exchanges phone numbers with you before you leave to wash up and head back to work.

It amazed you when you thought of how different her perspective seemed to be -- You’d heard of Waterfall before, and the pictures you saw showed beautiful flowers similar to those Sans had shown you at Toriel’s garden. It was a place widely known around the Surface for its glistening puddles and a large waterfall brimming with clear water.

While you found more beauty in Waterfall, the tiny Whimsun saw more beauty in the stars and the Sun.

★

You arrive home to a quiet and empty house. The hectic day at the bakery had led you to leave work at four instead of two, and you had to call Faust’s principal -- Toriel -- to notify the child of it. You instructed him to take the bus back home, thankful you’d given him a copy of your keys since moving to this city. Even with that reassurance, however, you still found it difficult to breathe at the sight of an empty living room and kitchen -- Faust was nowhere to be seen downstairs.

“Faust?” you call out, receiving no response.

Breathing becomes even more difficult for you as you go up the stairs, ready to check both the two bedrooms and the bathroom.

“Faust!”

The rest of the search is completed in a haste, with you running to and back the rooms, checking to see if he was playing some sort of heavy prank on you. What makes you stop on your frantic search is a note resting under the lamp of your bedroom’s dressing room. You take it out carefully and unfold the paper, the words you read causing the world around you to spin.

“I’m taking Faust with me. He’s better with me than with someone who gets into fights with randos at a human-monster bar.”

There’s something else written on the back of the note. You turn to read it almost instantly, the words adding fuel to your fire. Your fury makes your hands tremble and for your surroundings to blur into incomprehensible shapes and colours.

“Have fun with that ‘Sam’ guy. Tell him thanks for tutoring Faust, something you could’ve done on your own.”