"I don't want you near him." Papyrus stiffened and glared at Sans, his face orange with the hint of a flustered blush.
"What?"
"I don't want you near him. Around him. With him. He's a creep, and is probably pretending to like you to get views." Sans' voice was dark, and he continued to stare ahead of him at the TV, stiff where he sat on the couch. Papyrus was turned to him, his mouth hanging open as he searched for words.
"Sans, are you really serious right now? Mettaton would never do that, especially to me! He likes me, Sans, and I like him back. And if you don't like that, then you can just.. Forget about me."
Sans started to shake beneath his jacket, and whipped his skull around to stare at his brother.
"What do you mean; forget about you?! I'm just trying to protect you from a vile creature like that glamorfied hunk of metal!"
"Protect me?! Sounds like your trying to control me, or even ruin any chance of a relationship I'll ever get, because you think I'm still your baby ones brother who needs to be watched over all the time. But here's a news flash, Sans. I'm old enough to make my own decisions. Starting with moving out."
Papyrus stood up quickly, making his away around the couch and stalking towards the stairs, his hand clutching the railing.
"You're moving out? When did you decide this?!"
"Just now." Papyrus yelled over his shoulder and reached the top of the stairs, slamming his door against the wall as he pushed it open, disappearing into his room.
Sans stayed where he was for a moment, his hands gripped tightly onto the couch cushion beneath him, until he ripped one free and snapped his fingers.
He reappeared at the entrance to his younger brother's room and stepped forward, grabbing Papyrus' upper arm.
"Papyrus, your not leavin-"
"Let go of me." The statement was so bitter that Sans froze up in shock, allowing Papyrus to pull away from him. He didn't do anything as Papyrus reached beneath his bed and pulled out a backpack from when he was younger, and began to throw stuff into it.
Sans regained his composure and stepped forward, grabbing the back pack and throwing it across the room. Papyrus faced Sans with a hurt look that twisting into anger.
"I swear to the king, you're not leaving!" Sans barked at him, his eye flashing wildly as he tried to control his temper. He was opening his mouth again to speak when he felt a hand strike across his face.
He was completely still after that, reaching up with a hand to gingerly touch his stinging cheek. He looked to Papyrus with a puzzled expression, at an utter loss, and was silent as Papyrus knelt down to his level, meeting his gaze with hateful eyes.
"Try and stop me. Your too lazy to do anything else." Sans didn't move as Papyrus stood back up swiftly, walking around him and proceeding to grab more clothes and stuff them in his bag, slinging it over a shoulder and stalking through the door.
Sans stared blankly ahead at the lamp on Papyrus' desk, one he had bought him for christmas. He heard his brother's boots stomp to the door, and weakly flinched as it opened and slammed shut.
He would have stood there, trembling in anger and confusion all night if a buzz in his pocket hadn't interrupted him. Slowly, he grabbed his phone and looked to the screen in terrible guilt as he read the message sent by his brother.
Don't expect me to come back. I might as well consider you a stranger, because I can't call you my brother. Have a good life, Sans.
Sans felt his legs weaken under him and barely managed to catch himself on the side of Papyrus' race car bed, letting himself slip to the floor where he tucked his head into his arms, his eyes wide and filled with tears. He shook terribly as he clenched the sheets in his hands, his mind heavy with grief and the pain that had been inflicted upon him.
He stayed there for the rest of the night, and most of the next day, never moving until a knock on the front door startled him.
