Secrets Are Ba(n)d

part 21: Risky Business

Papyrus's hurried footsteps slowed as he finally reached the edge of the snowy forest he knew so well, Snowdin town just in sight. His old town, a town disgraced by his presence.

The snow fell like bullets, most monsters cuddled safely away in their warm homes, all except for two skeletons stumbling in the blaring cold. Papyrus only narrowly avoided being seen by the swaying shorter monster, lucky his dark coat blended in with the dark tree trunks as he watched him wade through snow and towards their home.

He could have easily ran, even walked back to Napstablooks house without being seen, but something called him towards the old place he called home. Maybe routine, or familiarity, or stupidity.

Sans shuffled his feet through the snow, 'undoubtedly muddying his slippers,' Papyrus cringed, until he finally stumbled into the door. His drunken hands barely got the keys out of his pocket, a few ketchup packets falling in the snow as he did. It was so undoubtedly him, so much of a reminder of what Papyrus lost. Or, what lost Papyrus.

He knew it was bad now, knew what a mistake he was making. Yet, taking one last look around for stray monsters, he glided through the trees until his shed was in clear sight, calculating every step carefully as he circled to the front of the building. His would-be stomach turned as he reached for the doorknob, the door opening with a quiet creak that made him freeze. He'd always wanted to oil the hinges. He didn't have time to think about that anymore.

Seconds passed, no reaction.

Swallowing his fear, Papyrus stepped in.

The place was a pigsty by his standards, dishes piled atop all surfaces, wet snow on the carpet, and clothes all over the couch, on top of which layed his older brother. Papyrus didn't dare get too close, repressing any of his sentimental urges to try and fix things. There was hardly anything to fix, he had no doubt his brother was sick of him.

But, someone had to take care of him still.

At least, that's what Papyrus told himself. He made quick but quiet work of the place: putting the leftovers in the fridge, sprinkling some food for pet rock, and after the rest was left in a manageable state, putting a light blanket on his sleeping brother.

Against all his common sense, he gazed over his lazy brother, reminiscing of the past where he'd carry his brother to bed. Even for a skeleton he was pale, sickly looking even, his eye sockets edged with red as if he'd been crying just before he passed out. He'd probably just gotten snow in his sockets, or developed sudden allergies, it probably had nothing to do with him. Papyrus wiped his face of the few tears he too let escape, deciding then that he'd overstayed his welcome.

With a last glance at the place and a heavy soul, he left, locking the door and leaving his copy of the key under the doormat.

The walk to Napstablooks felt longer than usual, Papyrus wandering in his thoughts as he stepped over the wet stones that made up the pathway. It was quiet, save the drips from the rocky ceiling, in another time he would have found it peaceful. Instead, he thought about what he was going to say to Napstablook, who was undoubtedly terrified that their friend had left for so long.

Papyrus wandered his thoughts for most of the walk, uninterrupted until he heard a sound that made his soul sink.

"Still can't believe that ass, he's lucky Grillby still pities him," echoed from not far ahead of him, a gruff voice he'd recognized from countless hours of barking.

His mind ran. The tunnel he'd taken was narrow, and if he ran now, he'd undoubtedly be heard. Still, his options were limited, and given the growling complaints were getting closer, Papyrus sprinted for the nearest notch in the wall he could fit in. He felt like a child hiding behind a curtain, obvious and naive, but anything better was far out of his grasp.