Underfell: What Does It Mean To Be Happy?

Maybe

I wake up from my restful slumber to...nothing? Nothing. There is nothing. No soft thud of a body hitting the floor having fallen off the bed. No string of muttered curses unlocking a door to freshen up in the bathroom. No footsteps going downstairs to start the day. Nothing

He must have overslept again. That idiot. Of course I have to wake that lazy slob and get him to his post. I try to get up, but gravity slams me on the bed as pain straddles my whole body. I remember now. Oh I'm gonna get him. I don't care if I gotta drag myself on the floor. I'm gonna get him. And when I do, he's dead. Determination fuels my dehydration while anger numbs the pain. Hunger takes control of my body and carries me out of the the room and banging on the one down the hall. When I find out how long I've been knocked out, he's so going to pay for it. "SANS! SANS!" I'm screaming so loud that my jaw is unhinging. If he thinks he can ignore me and sleep, then he's got another thing coming. I search in my pockets for his spare room key. I find it and am about to put it inside the keyhole when I can't help, but stare at it. When did I get this?

"Take this," he says as he hands the child an small metal object. "What's this?" The young one looks up in confusion. "It's a key to my room. Whenever you need me for anything, even in the middle of the night, just come right in." He stares at his elder with wonder. "Really? Anything? Even when I have a bad dream?" A fanged, but soft smile beams at the child. "Anything."

I shake the memory out of my thoughts and jam the key in the door. "SANS, YOU-" He's not here. He must be down stairs then. Carefully making my way down the crumbling mess, I search the lower level for him, but..he's not here. I rush out the whole now known as our door and look around our house and the woods. He's not anywhere in sight. He must be at that fancy restaurant. What was it called again? Grillboy's or something. It takes me about 20 minutes to get there and through the front door. Everyone turns to stare at me as I walk up to the owner at the bar counter. His grey and black suit and tall stature would make him intimidating to most. But I'm not most

"Where is he?" I don't know how the purple flaming man does it without a face, but he manages to sneer at me. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now leave, I've got a business to run." Everyone goes silent and some gasps are heard. A few snickers erupt and that pisses me off. I pound the bar counter with my fist so hard, the glasses on top are knocked over. No one is making a sound. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. Sans comes here everyday. He's in a lot of trouble and if you don't tell me where he is, we'll see what business you're running when it's burnt to the ground," I finish without missing a beat. He scoffs and turns away from me, grabbing a fallen beer glass and polishing it. I swear, if he respected me like everyone else, he'd be begging for forgiveness. I'll have to make him. But that's a story for another time. "He ain't here." What?

"What do you mean "he ain't here"?" He turns to face me with a cold look in that pit of fire. "It means he ain't here. He hasn't been here for two days." So that's how long I've been out. "You got what you wanted. Now get out." With that, I make my leave. He's not home. Or in the woods. Or at Grillbill's. He must be hiding. That coward. If he thinks I'm gonna look up and down for him, then he can kiss my pelvis. I'll be waiting for his return though. He can't run away forever

I make my way home as I think of places he could be