Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Seven

You greet Sans with a simple wave and signal for him to enter your home, too tired to bother dwelling over yesterday's situation at the bench. He stands next to your son's desk as customary, giving him directions as to what he should do next and making sure he followed the steps correctly.

An uneasy feeling remains in you as you watch them go about their usual lesson, your mind dizzy and a headache pounding persistently at the sides of your head.

Your first attempt at leaving the living room is stopped by you trampling over your own feet. What keeps you from meeting the floor is the wall you hold onto, the thump making both Sans and Faust turn to face the product of the noise.

“(Y/N)?” your son questions, startled by the sight of you holding onto the wall for support. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, managing a smile. “I just feel a little dizzy.”

Both the child and the skeleton seem to have trouble believing your words. Nonetheless, Faust is instructed to keep working on the next exercise while Sans’s gaze lingers on you for a moment. You stare back at him, feeling as if your white lies were deemed useless in front of him. If he managed to notice something was wrong with your child in as little as a month of knowing him, it was of no doubt he could tell when something was off with you, as well.

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The lesson went by as you were used to: half an hour of teaching, a quick break for snacks, and another half hour to finish up with the lesson. Faust ran off to get ready for bed the minute he finished being tutored by Sans, leaving you alone together once more.

“You sure you're okay?” Sans asks, sitting on a corner of the couch, as usual. “You didn't look too good the whole time I was here, and you didn't eat anything either.”

Breathing in, you cross your arms over your chest, fighting against whether to tell him about the reasons behind your headaches. You only knew him for a month, and -- besides the times you went out for coffee together or met up after school -- you hadn't really crossed borders beyond those. It seemed as if a thin thread stood between you, one that could snap if either one of you stepped forward.

“I'm just a little tired from work,” you reply, sitting on the couch opposite to his. “I've had to work a few extra hours to make up for some things.”

Before answering, he stares at you again, irises focused on your tired complexion.

“Is that all?” he questions again, furrowing his eye sockets.

You face him at the sound of him directing another question at you. It was unsure to you whether it was your current state of exhaustion, but you were certain of one thing. Right now, he was trying to form a conversation with you -- he was trying to be friendlier with you, a large contrast from the times he pulled back when noticing he was getting too close to you.

“Honestly. . . no,” you reply, shaking your head. “I-- I found out my ex is dating someone else now. I know it’s been a year, and that it’s about time for them to move on, but. . . I feel like I’m falling behind.”

“You, too?”

The question catches you completely off guard, his tone changing for a more enthusiastic one. He scoots forward, almost falling off the couch with how close to the edge he was.

“‘Cuz, ever since I left the Underground, it feels like everyone else is moving ahead, while I’m still stuck on the same spot.”

“I never thought I’d meet someone else who feels the same way!” you exclaim, coughing when realizing your tone of voice rose with your own excitement. “It’s like I can’t move on, no matter how badly I want to."

You end up talking with him for a whole hour after that, telling him all about your week at work and asking him about how things were going at his own job. The two of you don't stop until you both check the time, eight thirty marking itself on your cell phone. You both end up excusing yourselves at the same time, laughing it off afterwards.

“I can’t believe it’s this late! Are you sure you don’t want some of the rice left on the pot? There’s beans and stewed vegetables, too.”

He looks just about ready to reject your offer, though another thought appears to interrupt that. Instead, he turns back to you, accepting your offer and walking with you to the kitchen.

You serve him two bowls: one for him and one for his brother. You were used to making more than for just two people, using the leftovers either to bring with you for work or give to your neighbour whenever she came back late from a long day out.

“Thanks,” he mutters, hesitating when reaching for the bowls. His phalanges brush against your fingers when doing so, the cold of his touch making you flinch. “You didn’t really have to give us this much.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, offering him a smile. “I always make enough for more people.”

You accompany him out of your home, walking all the way out until reaching the busy road. The night is hot and scarce of stars, a stark difference from the cold nights and starry skies you experienced at your hometown. His footsteps are heavy against the pavement, making you wonder just how much he weighed for someone made out of bones.

“See you next Friday?” you ask, facing him with a smile.

“See you next Friday,” he replies, holding a hand out to you.

Aware of what happened the last time Faust did that, you grin at the skeleton, tilting your head in a confident manner.

“Can I hug you instead?” you question, a laugh breaking the silence of the night. “We both know what happened last time with my son.”

It takes him a second to respond, though he soon loosens his shoulders, snickering.

“Sure,” he agrees, extending his arms out the moment you do the same.

Having received his consent, you lean down slightly to match with his shorter height, bringing your arms behind his back and pulling him close to you. You jolt when feeling his hands slip behind your lower waist, the action reminding you once more of your differences in height.

You both let go of one another, saying your goodbyes and watching him off. He walks down the street and stops on the nearest bus stop, waving at you from that distance one final time.