Echoflowers

Echolust

Frisk has a lot of nerve, a courage to sell and still be packed with, and a really good mouth.

Smooth lips, a little plump, drawn in a straight line. Many times the skeleton's eyes fell on them when they spoke, twisting the mangled cigarette between his teeth and observing their movements, the little head tilt they have when're questiong what Sans himself is saying. Which earns them a grin, the cigarette being brought away from his mouth and a quiet review of the explanation he just gave them.

They have long, unkept dark brown hair which crowns their face just fine -- and abnormally slender limbs for a twenty years old, but he can safely suppose that it's from their long period as a prisoner down in the cells. Whenever he thinks about that, his cheekbones turn upwards in a grimace, and to make himself feel better, he lends them his jacket.

... It has their smell on it, now. And the fact that they keep wanting it back doesn't exactly help Sans either... and Frisk is of little, if no help. They came to love physical contact, excusing themselves with the fact that they grew used to it back with their timeline Sans -- prompting a very ugly feeling in him, as his hands tightened around their waist, dragging them closer to his body. Bones clacked, and it prompted a smile from the human, making Sans sneer... and sigh, releasing them istantly.

He thought of Frisk in a completely innocent way... but it didn't helped how much they pressed into him in their hugs, the smiles they reserved for him and the way his SOUL began to faintly glow and beat whenever they would hug him, looking for comfort -- and it didn't helped when they spoke near his skull, when their lips brushed his cheekbone to soothe him. Everything they did triggered a fire inside of Sans, the bonfire of familiarity drawing them together.

Boney hands would close around their waist, their cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. And once or twice, Frisk had to quietly breathe on his teeth after they got pinned to the wall, their mouths dangerously close together, his digit brushing over their lips. He had to always snap out of this obnubilament and blink a couple of times, taking his time in admiring Frisk's red cheeks, their slighty parted lips that seemed to ask him for more than just stalling and hesitations. Their lucid eyes didn't helped either.

They were alone, surrounded by Echo flowers that repeated their whispers, the soft tone of voice they used with him. And even if he tried to came alone while the human was sleeping, he always found himself sighing quietly when listening to their soft voice, repeated over and over by the blue flowers.

He thought of Frisk in a completely innocent way, keeping his sinful thoughts for himself, until the day before they were to return in their own timeline.

The last day, Sans took them to his old, dusty room to complete the tour of the abandoned Snowdin city. He saw the sadness in their eyes, and with a smirk he took them to his own room -- abandoned since Papyrus left. It drew out of him a long sigh, letting him inhale the smoke right through his ribs.

''... So, you're leaving tomorrow, huh?''

A nod. A brief one, dark eyes getting affixed on the skeleton's face. He began to grow anxious.

''No point in gettin' upset, kid. Look, you're gonna get back and do good, maybe even better before the timeline forcefully spat ya out. Don't worry too much, okay?''

Kind words, spoken with bitterness. He couldn't help but think that he was gonna be alone again -- until the timeline would have been erased. And him with it, bringing away the bittersweet memories of their time together and his own essence. Erasure didn't sounded so bad, after many timeline resets and the final loss of his powers, leading the RESET button to disappear once Frisk crashed in the Ruins and was brought to the cells. The heavy chains around their ankles and wrists were still present, open wounds medicated and bandaged thanks to his special cataplasm.