Scars

Sans can't shake the memories. He remembers the beatings, he remembers the stabs in the back, he remembers the rules and the never ending list of things to do in order to protect his family.

What family? Everyone gaster prepared Sans to defend from, for when the human comes down.

Silence, it's the one thing I hate too much. Either it's being the laughs from Naptablook or mettaton at the T.V., or Undyne slashing her sword against a training dummy. Alphys stating a logistically easy fact or Papyrus laughing at cooked food. Even if it wasn't those, like in the middle of the night, it was the overlapping flicker of the little candlelight I have next to my bed, the large droplets from my broken roof bottle onto my forehead during the pitter-patter of the rain or the little drips of blood splattering on the floor after a long days training session.

Sans knew that none of the others had to deal with this, but he knew he had a reason to continue with it. The constant training, starvation, lack of hygiene, warmth and love. The unhumain way of living.

Until it stopped. With his family, and then a human.