A Killer Life

Chapter 9*

When I got to Grillby's, I saw Papyrus there at the counter.

"Sans! I was just wondering where you were!" He floated down to me, "Where were you anyway?"

I just pointed outside, then towards where I was in the forest. My voice is as silent as a dead rat.

"Oh! You've been training again haven't you? Well, it's always good to keep in shape, though I did wish you started this kind of activity when I was alive."

A pang went straight through my soul. I could only try to look sheepish for Papyrus.

As we sat there, Papyrus filled the silence with small talk and crazy ideas he came up with when he was exploring. I nervously nodded or shook my head at whatever Papyrus was saying, whether I agreed or not.

Sometimes they were good ideas, others were not so much. And the commentary on each one was always brutally honest. I would only hope I don't turn emotional during this conversation.. Or the next one.

For some reason after that one incident of my outburst in emotions, I've been having episodes where I either feel a lot of things or everything muted.

Living with it for around a decade made me used to it, but then again, there's not much emotional stimulus happening with only me, myself and I. (Papyrus is usually out exploring, so I don't know if he counts as much.)

"..ans. Sans, are you listening to me? We should totally bake a pasta pie! It would look and taste amazing at the same time! Wouldn't that be great!?"

I grimaced at the thought of such food existing. The pie crust would be ruined by the sauce, and the sweetness would clash with the slight saltiness of the tomato pasta. It's definitely going to end up in a disaster.

I made a gesture, trying to ask Papyrus who's going to cook it.

- A poor attempt to save myself from creating an abomination.

"Why of course it would be you. Who else is there to cook it?"

- It was ineffective.

I sighed, I guess I'm making pasta pie then.

I heard a small 'yay' from behind me as I opened the door to the back of the bar. Grillby should have a small oven that I could use for a bit. Sorry Grillby if I ruin your kitchen.

I set up the materials and started mixing and stirring to the instructions of Papyrus. Sometimes getting stopped to me showed how to do it with Papyrus showing it to me with imaginary kitchen tools.

When the food was in the oven baking, I started cleaning up the mess I made.

"I will give you a ten out of ten for effort and a six for your cooking skills. It was good enough even if you were rusty."

I gave a double thumbs up of acceptance.

I've never cooked before, so a six out of ten isn't bad for my first try.

Papyrus got bored after a while waiting for the pasta pie to cook, so keeping a timer in my pocket, we walked down the path to our house to go get something Papyrus calls a 'surprise present' for me.

He said he forgot about it before so he couldn't give it to him, but now that he remembers where it is, he can just tell me where to find it.

I walked in the house and went up the stairs to Papyrus's room. This still feels like an invasion of privacy.

Papyrus told me to look in the pile of bone attacks.

"Be careful of the sharp edges Sans. I made them sharp so it pierces the ground easily."

I gently moved the bones around, trying to find what Papyrus wanted to find. At some point, I started piling the sharp bones next to the box for easier access.

At the bottom of the box, I saw a small container. Papyrus told me to take it out and open it. I nodded, but looked at the present confused.

What could be small, but worthy enough for Papyrus to pick out?

I opened the box, and inside was a necklace. It was in the shape of a–

"I was going to give you it when I was still alive, but then things happened to you and I kind of ran late. I thought it would give you some motivation to keep going since I noticed you weren't feeling as hopeful as you were before, but when you woke up, you went back to the happy Sans I knew before, so..." Papyrus rambled on.

I took the necklace in my hands-- they were shaking. Tears collected in my eyes, making my vision blurry. A strong emotion of guilt and sadness shook in my soul.

Sans died before he saw this. He wasn't able to know that Papyrus got something for him.

"Sans? Are you alright?" Papyrus said, concerned.

I haven't answered back to him yet, but I could just accept this while still pretending to be Sans. I'm not Sans, and Papyrus died because of that.

But if you tell him, he'll hate you.

..Will he? Would he hate me?

Yes. And then you would lose the brother that was never yours.

I looked at the necklace.

Let's keep this a secret within you. Only you will know.

...But that's unfair to Papyrus.

What?

He has to know that I'm not Sans anymore. That he's giving this gift to a stranger.

But he WILL hate you.

..I know... but I can't pretend to be Sans anymore when I'm not him. Sans died when I woke up.

...You made your choice...

The voice seemed to disappear from my mind as I came back to reality.

"Sans, can you hear me? Sans?" Papyrus was flying around me, trying to get my attention.

I put my hand up and slowly looked him in the eyes. Papyrus stopped his movements.

I'm going to tell him everything, even if he were to be my hallucination.

As I made up my mind, I got up from the spot I was crouched down and headed down the kitchen to get something to get a pencil and something to write on. Papyrus followed after me trying to catch up.

I looked through all the drawers, then checked inside the green couch. There should be something that I could write with; I took my hand out with a pencil in my hand. Perfect.

I then looked in the closet to find extra pieces of paper that I shoved in there once.

I walked to the kitchen again and started writing everything. From the beginning where I woke up, how I lied to him, how I knew of him, what I did for the underground to be empty, and how Sans was dead when I woke up.

I wrote one page, then four, and kept on writing until I finished my story and explanation of the whole situation.

I put my pencil down and lifted it up to Papyrus and waited for his response.

He first looked at me and then at the paper. His eye sockets followed the words on the paper, occasionally motioning me to turn the page.

I waited patiently for him to finish reading, trying to stop my shaking hands so Papyrus could read it properly. Then he told me to put the papers down.

I did as told and looked a the floor in shame. The room was silent with the sound of static in my ears. My hands felt clammy as I figured in place.

Is he going to hate me now?