(Sans x Reader) When Two Souls Meet

Take Two

Your Perspective

"Sans!" you exclaim, your eyes shooting open.

You sit bolt upright, and wildly look around. When you realize that you're safe and in your own room at Toriel's, you blink in confusion and take a deep breath, collapsing back on your pillows. You must have been dreaming.

Well, that was one depressing dream. I think... I died?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, and you stare up at the ceiling as you try to puzzle it out. Something seems... off. You aren't sure why, but you have this feeling that you're forgetting something. Something important. You try to remember the details of the dream, but the harder you try... the more muddled they become.

Oh well, you think with a sigh. It was just a dream, anyway.

Even as you tell yourself that, though, you can't shake your uneasiness. Something... something just isn't right. You think on it for a few more moments, before shrugging to yourself and rolling out of bed. There's no point dwelling on it—no amount of brooding is going to force you to remember.

The scent of freshly made pancakes wafts through the air, and you can't help but sniff deeply, your nose in the air. They smell really good, like melted butter and chocolate... but for some reason, the idea of eating pancakes doesn't really appeal to you. In fact, you're not even hungry.

Weird.

You shrug the sensation off and get dressed, then head out towards the dining room.

*** 

You're on your way to Snowdin, snow crunching dully under your feet. Normally, you'd be listening to music right about now. It's a long walk to Snowdin, and it can get boring after a while. Today, however, you simply stare at the ground. You mind is in a daze, and you're still trying to figure out why you're feeling so strange.

Breakfast had been hectic. You'd made fun of Frisk, you'd been invited to one, then two parties, and Frisk had basically turned you into a mailwoman. None of those things happen every day—it should have been a novel experience for you. But ever since you woke up, you've been having really bad cases of déjà vu. Like... really bad. Every single thing you said, did, or even thought was giving you déjà vu.

It's even happen right now, as you walk towards Snowdin. Dread hangs over you like a cloud, and you find yourself keeping an eye out for... something. You're not really sure what that something is, but even so, the thought of running into it is making you uneasy enough to look over your shoulder.

This is crazy, you tell yourself. There's nothing out here but me—why am I so paranoid all of a sudden?

You shake your head vigorously, trying to clear it of the fog of uncertainty that seems to be hanging over you. It doesn't work. If anything, it seems to be getting worse, as if your body is telling you that you're slowly getting closer to the danger it's trying to warn you about... whatever it is.

I really need to talk to Sans, you decide.

That's the other thing that's been bugging you. Ever since you woke up, you've been having this... this insatiable need to talk to Sans. This sense you're getting goes beyond your friendship with the skeleton—something, some part of you, is urgently telling you that you need to speak to him...