What Will I Do With My Heart?

They Say You Can Forget

Grillby

I awoke on the couch, Gaster's small head resting in my lap. My flame turned blue, a blush creeping across my cheeks. He looked so cute when he was sleeping...

I wiped the sweat off his forehead, and he shifted. His fever seemed to have broken in the night. I was grateful for that. Hopefully we'd be able to get him back to his sons soon.

I leaned my head back, massaging my 'burnt' palm. I suppose you could say it was burned. Ah, Gaster, you'd be laughing at me right now, wouldn't you? I looked down at him with a soft gaze, hoping my warm glow would make him feel safe.

Just when I began to feel comfortable, the smaller man began to shift and squirm. Whimpers got louder. Whimpers became cries. I was becoming worried. I was not wrong to worry. Within five seconds, Gaster was bolt upright, screaming. It was the same scream. The same painful, fearful, horrible scream I'd heard before, far too many times, in my dreams.

I do quite believe I'd started to black out, visions flooding my mind. I brushed them away as best I could, cardling my dear friend in my arms, shushing him and trying to calm him.

"Shh... Shh, Dings, it's not real... It's not real..."

"B-But... It felt so..."

"You're safe..."

"I-It hurts, Grillby..." He wrapped his arms around my neck and began to sob into my shoulder. 

"I know." I rubbed his back, still shushing him and whispering that he was alright. After about an hour of that, he drifted off again, still resting on my shoulder. 

Now my mind was free to wander. Oh, that day... It still haunts me.