Fictober 2024

Nihilism

Universe: Swapfell

MC: Papyrus

Genre: Angst, with tiny tiny hints of fluff

Warnings:
-OOC
-Barely edited
-Papyrus is maybe a bit depressed
-Inaccurate representation of depression
-Mention(s) of death
-Mild profanity

A/N:

I'll be honest, this is a bit of a rush job- hope it turned out okay anyways!
_______________________________________

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

Papyrus blinks, tilting his head. He rolls his eyelight when his brother's glare intensifies as he moves the dog treat in his mouth, taking it out with a sigh and throwing it into a nearby trash can. One hand on the back of his neck and another in his pocket, he finally continues the argument.

(How many times has it been now?)

"It's the surface, bro. The humans are too pussy to actually try and harm me. Even if they do, it's not like they actually can."

They're so weak, it's honestly laughable. It really puts into perspective the weird power Chara holds, their intent so much deadlier to monsters (and humans, occasionally) than most others. Papyrus honestly thinks it's related to their SOUL being a determination one, but he isn't sure. He's pretty sure he'd get an answer if he just asks Sans or Undyne, but... does it really matter?

(Does anything?)

Sans snarls at him, barely holding back his rage as he shuts his mouth and attempts to calm down, using the breathing exercises his therapist, that the queen literally had to mandate for him, no doubt taught him. The sight hits Papyrus with a pang of guilt. No matter what timeline, it always makes him uncomfortable to see his brother so worried.

"You..." Sans calms down enough to speak, voice surprisingly level. Papyrus tilts his skull. Damn, the therapist this time is good. "You Can't Let Your Guard Down."

Not yet.

(Not ever.

... Then again, even if Papyrus dies, he'll still be back the next reset. He always is.

He's lucky he doesn't fully remember what happens in them, only brief flashes and the knowledge that he's repeating that same damned day again. He doesn't know what he would do if he could.)

Papyrus looks to the side, an instinctive sheepish look on his face. His actual emotions are more complicated, but if Sans gleams anything from him, he doesn't point it out.

"Sorry, bro."

As the silence stretches on, Sans's glare sharpens, tension thick enough to cut. Papyrus finally gives in with a sigh.

The fight is pointless, really. He just got back a little late from a party. It's what, three am?

... He can see why Sans would be worried, but he's an adult, damn it. His voice is begrudging when he continues.

"I'll be more careful. "

That seems to satisfy Sans enough that he finally drops his crossed arms, purple and white eyelights not quite as bright and full of angry magic. Papyrus huffs, rolling his eyelight again as he ignores the threat Sans throws at him about his games and dog treats if he's this late again, quickly heading to his room.

(It won't matter when they're back in the underground, anyway. )
_______________________________________
Next chap: Something New, Gaster