Believe in Me

Forgotten

"Hi! I'm Blue! What's your name?"

He held out his hand towards the other, who looked at him distrustfully and made no move to take it. "That's a stupid name," he growled, his gold tooth flashing slightly in the light.

Blue just shrugged and smiled, withdrawing his hand. "Well, I like it, and that's what really matters!" he said brightly, then continued. "I don't think I caught your name."

The other sighed loudly and stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his scuffed leather jacket. "Sans, same as the rest of you fuckers," he said finally.

Blue frowned. "Please watch your language," he insisted, prompting a laugh from the other.

"What, you got a fucking problem?"

Blue's frown deepened, and he stepped forward, into the other's personal space. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said, narrowing his eyes. The other looked surprised for a moment, then opened his mouth as if to speak. Blue interrupted him with a laugh, then clapped a hand on his shoulder and stepped back. "I'm just kidding!" he said brightly.

The other gaped at him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to express his confusion. Blue didn't give him the chance, however, grabbing his elbow and beginning to drag him in the direction of the refreshment table, chattering away. "And I know your name is Sans, of course! But we can't all be Sans, that would be confusing! So you need a nickname! Ooo, we should match!"

"Why the hell would we match?" the other growled, the red magic in his eye sockets flaring slightly as he considered whether or not he should be trying to get away from the smaller skeleton or simply punching him in the face.

Blue turned back to face him, a huge, happy smile across his face. "Because besties always have to match!"

Red hated patrols. If he had to have a stupid, useless job, why did he have to get exercise while doing it? It was unnecessary. But what Fell said, went, so Red found himself stomping through the woods angrily, practically daring anyone to jump out and cause trouble. He shouldn't be working. He shouldn't even be in UnderFell. He should be tearing apart the multiverse to-- He was jerked out of his reverie as he kicked at a clump of snow he was walking by and managed to trip over a rock that had been hidden underneath it.
Cursing, he fell onto his face, having failed to break his fall with his arms. He lay there and groaned for a solid two minutes before he heaved himself back to his feet and turned to the offending rock. He considered prying it out of the ground and finding out exactly how much magic was required to shatter it into pieces, but decided it wasn't worth the effort and just stomped on it instead.
He continued on, grumbling more loudly now, but he had barely gotten five feet before he tripped again, this time managing to find his balance before he fell.
"Oh, fuck you, ya piece of shit rock!" he yelled. He whipped around to look for it, deciding that it was, in fact, worth his time to destroy the thing.
Instead of a rock, he was confronted with the brightest orange thing he had seen in a very long time. It was some sort of cloth, partially covering a figure that was facedown in the snow.

Cautiously, he approached it, summoning a long, thin bone construct in one hand. He stopped a little ways from the prone monster, then held out the bone, lightly poking whatever it was, then jumping back like a small child with a bug when the thing responded by moving slightly. Steeling himself, he flipped the orange piece of cloth off of the potential threat, then jumped back again.
It was a skeleton. A fairly small skeleton, even smaller than him, if that were possible. Unlike him, their bones were perfect and unmarked, the stretches of whiteness practically gleaming in the soft light of the forest. Their face was pressed into the ground, soft breaths the only sign they was still alive. They were clutching tightly to the orange piece of cloth, as though afraid that it would be taken away from them, and they were clothed only in a white t-shirt and dark pants.
Red recognized him immediately, beginning to panic slightly as he crouched down and reached to flip him over, hesitating for a moment when he realized that the orange cloth was going to impede him in that goal, as tangled into the back of the other's ribcage and arms as it was.
Red reached for the awful thing, grasping what he now realized was a sweatshirt of some kind by the sleeve, his panic keeping him from making any significant connections from it, and attempting to pull it away from him. If anything, the small phalanges only curled into the cloth tighter, and he began hearing small gasping whimpers that told him the skeleton was awake, which made him breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why he wasn't getting up on his own. He stopped pulling on the hoodie for a moment, and instead kneeled and took the other by the shoulder, flipping him over carefully.
Red's breath hitched when he saw what was stopping the other from doing anything. There was a slash through his whole ribcage, from his right clavicle to the edge of his left floating rib. Bright red marrow leaked from the wound, which Red found himself recognizing far too well.
Then his eyes shifted up to the other's face and he sighed. "Blue?" he asked quietly, and though the other's tired, terrified eyelights showed no sign of recognition, he continued. "Where the hell have you been?"

Upon receiving no further response than faster, more panicked breathing, Red carefully slipped his arms under the smaller form and lifted, picking the other up with an ease that shouldn't have surprised him. Then he shortcutted directly to his room and laid Blue down on his bare mattress. He then blipped to the bathroom and back, now with the first aid kit.
Marrow had completely soaked the white t-shirt, and Red hissed under his breath. How was he still alive? He started to remove the shirt, slipping one arm carefully through a sleeve, then turning to do the same with the other before he realized that he still had ahold of that awful orange sweatshirt that he should have immediately recognized. He gave it a tug, and when there was no sign of letting go, he grumbled under his breath and just lifted the shirt over his head, pushing the whole thing far enough down his arm so that he had room to work. Blue appeared to have passed out, having used some of the last of his energy to hold on to the hoodie.
He began cleaning the wound, clearing away the marrow and bits of shattered bone, and...dust? Red frowned. Dust only came from monsters that had died, and Blue clearly was not dead. Then he caught sight of the gray smears on the orange coat, and it clicked.

Stretch...
He finished cleaning the wound carefully, trying not to think about it. Then he was left with a stripe of broken ribs, the ends of which he applied ointment to and wrapped carefully.
When he had finished, he stood up, taking the supplies back to the bathroom, then taking a shortcut down to the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed a container of leftover lasagna. After quickly heating it up and grabbing a fork, he went back upstairs.
Blue was awake again, but just barely. He looked around blearily as Red entered the room, not seeming to be able to focus. Red set down the container of food and silently helped the other sit up against the pillows. "Here," he said finally, picking up the lasagna and cutting off a small piece for the other to eat. "This will help you heal."

Blue opened his mouth mechanically, and Red pushed the fork in, making sure it was absorbed completely before getting a new piece. This way, the entire slice was gone in a few minutes, and the smaller skeleton was looking more and more alert. Finally, as he finished absorbing the final piece and Red set the empty container aside, he managed to choke out, "Who--who are you?"
Red didn't answer immediately, looking at the other's round blue eyelights. "You don't know me?" he finally asked, but it was more of a statement than a question, and the other didn't bother to answer.
Blue seemed confused for a moment, then said, "I--I'm Sans. Who are--"
"Me too, sweetheart," Red cut him off gently when it seemed like he wouldn't be able to say anything else. "But people like you call me Red. Howsabout I call you Blue to match?"
Blue just blinked at him for a moment before nodding tiredly. "Okay," he whispered, apparently too tired to question it.
Red stood, picking up the now-empty container, and said, "You should try to sleep, alright? It'll help you heal. We can talk more the next time you wake up."
Blue's eyes flashed with something like fear, and he seemed to be trying to sit up straighter, though all that accomplished was for him to scoot his arms back and let out a long, unfiltered groan of pain. Red gently made him lay down, whispering assurances under his breath, half to himself and half to Blue. When the other was settled and seemed to have calmed down enough to sleep, Red left the room quietly, letting his back rest against the door for a moment as he fought back tears. Then he went down to the kitchen and put the container in the sink, absentmindedly beginning to wash it, trying not to think about what it meant that Blue didn't seem to know who he was.