*edited as of 7/30/23
The swift descent of footsteps was all the skeleton could focus on as you disappeared deeper again into the Waterfalls. For a split second, he was bent on following you. He started to stumble after, nearly tripping over his own feet before he skidded to a halt. He gritted his teeth, watching the way you went as if you'd reappear at any moment. He knew he couldn't go after you...
This had all happened before, after all...
After a few more moments of silent, empty expectation, Sans turned on his heel. It would just turn out like last time, he was sure of it. Last time... it was a memory that lingered in the back of his head like a pounding migraine. He continued his trek back to Snowdin, almost as if nothing had happened. He eyed his feet, listening to the flow of water that replaced the small talk the two of you exchanged just moments prior. Really, he wasn't listening to it at all. He was much too deep in thought, the memory creeping to the front of his train of thought quickly until he was consumed by it like crashing waves. He could replay it like it was a movie he had watched six times before.
The cherub-faced being from above, they held a light in their eyes that he had never seen before. For once, the stupid skeleton felt his jesting facade melt away. They were lovely... more than lovely...
They were perfect.
Sans had tried shielding them from the moment they fell into the clutches of the skeleton brothers. He knew the cruelness of other souls beneath the earth's crust, he knew what would happen if he let them slip out of his grasp. No matter how close he got to them, how many sweet words he exchanged with them... they'd always leave.
"I have to get home..." or "I'll get us all out!" were terms that he had grown terribly accustomed to.
He loved them so much, so even though he knew their efforts would be wasted, he supported them. Their smile was worth everything to him. Even if he knew how the story would end
The first time, he found them buried deep in a snowbank somewhere on outskirts of Snowdin,
The second time, he found them at the bottom of the falls,
The third time, he heard Papyrus talking outside to Undyne about the 'human' she had just turned in to the king,
The fourth time, he was flicking through channels just in time to see the robotic TV personality rip you apart as a gag on 'late nights with MTT,'
The fifth time, he waited for days in the same place, but you never even left the Ruins.
Sans thought he had seen everything, every single way they could die. Five times felt like a lot, after all. But the sixth was just... different. When he held out his hand to take theirs that day in the woods, there was something strange behind their eye. This (Y/N) was not his (Y/N). He knew that already. He watched the hollow shell of his lover closely, as if their true colors would pour back through after sometime. When he found his brother's scarf discarded in the snow, he knew that there would be no fixing you.
The warm light of the empty corridor felt so comforting to him, it shined through all the windows and bathed the avian monster in a warmth that he could equate only to what he imagined the surface to be like. When he turned to face his lover, who stood at the other end, he felt a twist in his non-existent stomach. They had appeared warm and gentle once, what Sans expected a human to look like, aside from the fountains of white feathers that sprouted from their back. They were ethereal to him. The husk that stood in front of him felt like a monster he had never seen before, one that could never lurk the underground. The warm light had turned cold and sour, almost blinding him at first. A plethora of eyes met pinpricks and feathers sprouted from every area they could. They still looked... maybe somewhat human? But as they brandished a golden-hilt blade, they started looking less and less like what Sans remembered. He felt sick as he buried his face into the tattered red cloth his brother once adorned, as he fussed with the fabric with one hand and raised the other. The whole world spun around him and he couldn't think until he was faced with their body on the floor.
Crimson pooled from your wounds, as crimson as Papyrus's scarf. Even though he was shaken, Sans still bent down beside you, taking your face in bony digits as you sputtered and coughed red. The fire in your eyes had never ceased, but the blinding holy light around you seemed to be fading as he held onto you.
"I'm sorry, birdie..." He choked through tears, rocking you back and forth in a motion that was partially to soothe himself. You narrowed your eyes at him, reaching out a shaking hand to take a fistful of the fur lining his jacket. You pulled him closer and closer until the space between the two of you was no more. Lips met teeth in some awkward, kissing-like ritual that he had grown so accustomed to the past few times you met. But after a moment, you pulled back and stared at him, sharp eyes dulling as more and more blood poured from your wounds that he inflicted
"I'm not." You hissed, an awful sound that Sans hardly recognized as your voice. You held his gaze as long as you could bear before succumbing to the loss of blood. You fell limp in his arms, and he continued to cry like a fool.
Sans reeled out of thought as he stood outside the door of his home. He knew he'd see you again, he just hoped that it would be different from the time before. Maybe he could coax you back home, and this time he could just live comfortably with you like all his failed attempts before. It was selfish, he knew, but he was allowed to be selfish after losing his brother and the love of his life.
As he stepped inside, Sans wanted to do nothing more than return to his room and sleep off the bad memories until they were nothing but a dull ache in the back of his head again. As he began into his abode, he was stopped by a rather concerned looking Papyrus, who hung around in the kitchen as if waiting for his return with you. Sans's ever-present smile upturned as he shook his head, a silent attempt to brush off your lack of appearance in their home. Papyrus was visibly unsatisfied with his brother's answer, but prompted no more, allowing for the stouter skeleton to disappear into his room and fulfill his newfound dream of something close to hibernation.
YOU ARE READING
Wings of the Angels (Birdtale!Sans x Angel!Reader)
Romance[ONGOING/REWRITING IN PROGRESS] Angels are often regarded as a walk of life that wouldn't dirty itself by living on earth; however, it seemed that you surpassed the stereotype. You enjoyed your life on earth, living in the solitude of the woods with...
