Love Can Fly

Chapter 4

---(Y/N)'s POV---

   Grillby soon came back with my fries, and places a ketchup bottle in front of Sans. He picked up the bottle and...started drinking the ketchup? Don't ask me how he did it without separating his teeth, but he did. I inhaled, the greasy smell of a restaurant and fresh fries fueling my hunger. I picked up a fry and took a bite. Right before I was about to swallow, the food seemed to disappear, yet I knew I had eaten it. Thats...weird... I ate and ate and ate some more, the food disappearing each time right before I would swallow. Even though the food disappeared I was still getting full. Sans gave me a funny look when he saw how fast I was eating. Truth be told, I was starving. I hadn't eaten at Toriels, or before I had fallen down. I soon finished and Sans tore his gaze away from me and started talking to Grillby quietly while Grillby cleaned a glass. I tried to eavesdrop and pick up on their conversation, but I couldn't hear all to much.

      "...Freedom...Kid...Possibly..."

      "Hope....Maybe...? Probably not....human...."

   What I picked up seriously confused me. Were they talking about me? I wanted to know so badly, but its not like I can just interrupt their conversation and start asking questions! I'm not that rude. Instead, I stayed silent, looking around the place. I saw dog monsters, a few monsters I couldn't really identify, a plant-looking-thingy, and a very drunk looking bunny. I tucked my wings in as my eyes continued to move around the room. I had to admit, for a restaurant thats probably been underground forever, this place was quite nice. My eyes settled on a jukebox, and I smiled, my mouth opening a tiny bit. I love jukeboxes!  I narrowed my eyes to get a better look, and my smile faded as I realized it looked pretty busted up. ...Maybe I can see if I can get Grillby to let me fix it sometime... See, one thing about me is that I'm pretty crafty  when it comes to building or fixing things as such. Thats one talent everyone around me back up on the surface knew about, but of course everyone has their secret skill. Mine is photography. Just having the ability to capture a single moment in time in marvelous and intriguing to me. Long ago, I told one of my friends about my photographing skills, and she called me a Photo Nerd. I didn't like that nickname, or the way it sounded like a bad thing, therefore I didn't bring the topic up again. In fact, I almost gave up doing photography at all. I explored many other things, convincing myself that I had another, more pleasing skill. I tried singing. Honestly, I sounded like a retarted seal screaming for help. I tried art. Stick figure hands much? Though I did find out I was good at drawing cats, but other than that, a second grader could have done better. I tried sports. Sports never interested me much in the first place anyway, so I gave it up quickly. I was only brought back to the beginning, and right back to my camera. 

   "*radytugo?" A voice said. I was snapped back to reality, pulled from my thoughts.

      "Hm?" I ask, having not heard clearly.

   "I said, kid, are you ready to go?"

   "Go where?"

   "Narnia." Sans rolled his prinpricks. "Out of the restaurant. Hey kid, do you know where you'll be staying for now?"

   "Staying? Who said anything about staying?"

   "Kid, hate to break it to ya, but unless those wings of yours are some kind of new human technology, you ain't going nowhere." Sans said, and Grillby seemed to be looking at us secretly. My low jaw quivered.

   "You mean I can't go back?" 

   "...Nope." 

   "Thats. . ." A wave of emotion crashed over me. Well, more like a GIANT wave. I didn't know whether to feel happy or upset, angry or sad, confused or accepting. I was happy I would never have to see any of -them- again, but then I would never see the warm sun or smell the wonderful scent of fall as I look up in a dark, beautiful purple October sky. A fresh start is what I would get down here, but is that what I want? Is that what I need? Is it what I deserve? My silent distress was probably written all over my face, and Sans sighed dryly. 

   "You can stay with me and Paps for now. I'm sure he won't mind company. That is, if you want to." Sans offered. I swallowed back the lump in my throat that had formed, and nodded. I wonder if this is the part where I'm supposed to cry. Well, if it is, I'm certainly not crying. I slid off the stool and Sans did as well, and he took the lead walking to the door. I realized that he had tucked in his wings in a quite strange position, but he seemed used to it. As we walked outside, I asked him about it.

   ". . . Hey Sans, why do you tuck your wings in like that? Doesn't it hurt?"

   "What? No. Its how I was taught to tuck them in. Also, its much more comfortable and relaxing than the way you're tucking them. Want me to show you how?"

   "That'd be nice. Though, show me once we get back to your place."

   "You mean me and my brothers place."

   "Oh yeah, right."