He never knows what to do. Every time he's managed this before he's had to...cheat. Teleported Frisk and Chara back to their room before it could get worse. Put himself between the two. Didn't even try hard enough with Napstablook, because they went and tried anyway. Held onto Mettaton so he wouldn't keep going, knowing Mettaton wouldn't risk Sans.
Dumb fucking luck, that's all it is. Being rational doesn't work. Being manipulative doesn't work, plus it's unbelievably fucked up. He could just tell Tim that if he goes, Sans will just follow him, but that's such a fucked up thing to say and do. He could just grab Tim and teleport him and risk some kind of breakdown, and Tim would hate him, and then he might just try again.
It almost sounds like him and Frisk. Complicated. Something you can't easily name. How he never knows what to do with them, how when he tries, he gets everything, every little thing, completely wrong. Couldn't save them in Quor'toth. Couldn't save Chara. Couldn't just...be a good enough person that Frisk wouldn't need to cut him out of their life like a tumor.
"i get it."
Should have been me.
"i don't...know what to say that'll...keep you here."
He has to try, though, god, he has to keep trying. He can't do this again. And isn't that hilarious? Didn't he just say that of course he can? He can, and he will, keep losing people, and he'll keep on living and surviving and trying to deal with it, because the world, one way or another, never lets him be the first one to go. The one time it did was one of the worst things he has ever, ever done.
"it's not."
It's not so terrible. That's the problem.
"dying is easy. being dead is easy. but then--you wake up."
You wake up in Snowdin, wondering why your chest aches so much, wondering why it feels like your ribs were cracked open and fused back together all wrong. And you think about how there's only really one reason why it would feel that way.
You wake up in your room and your brother stares at you with a look you have never seen before. You check the network and you see your brother using that word, vacation, and he got that from you, didn't he, because you lied to him, you created a code word that only you really knew, but he picked up on it somehow, because he always does. He's always so much more clever and observant that anyone expects.
"you wake up. and then you have to live with it. you have to be alive again. everything aches. your skull--your head is pounding. you breathe and it hurts. you're whole and intact, but something--you can feel something missing. and you have to just keep living. you keep living, and you have to remember what it was like. you have to see the looks on people's faces. you have to live with the fact that i'll know what you've done. and i'm sorry. i'm sorry i did that to you. you'll have to live with the fact that jay will probably find out, because he's...well, he's nosy. they either find out way later, months later, and they look at you like...i mean, death is so commonplace around here, you'd think no one would be freaked out about it anymore. but they are, and that's probably a good thing. that death still has meaning to people."
"they find out a few months from now, and it's this secret you were keeping from them. and every time someone finds out, they look at you the way clem looked at me at movie night. or--they know it while you're gone. and they sit there. they count hours. seconds. they hold a jar of your dust. and then you wake up, and they were waiting for you. you can see it on their face right away. they burst into your room begging you to do something inane and silly so that neither of you have to think about it for a minute. they say how sorry they are, that that happened to you. and if they know, then there's that extra layer. they know you were willing to do that to yourself. they wonder if you'll do it again. they watch you. it's in the back of their heads from then on. they're constantly waiting, constantly on guard, and they tell themselves they won't let you do that to yourself again. they'll take all the sharp objects out of the room and put plastic covers on all the sharp corners, like that'll really dissuade someone with so much determination. they treat you like a bomb that could go off at any time. like you're fragile."
He slumps against the tree. Talking too much. Speechifying. Doesn't he always? This isn't going to change anything. Like he said--you can't really stop someone with that much Determination.
goddd
He never knows what to do. Every time he's managed this before he's had to...cheat. Teleported Frisk and Chara back to their room before it could get worse. Put himself between the two. Didn't even try hard enough with Napstablook, because they went and tried anyway. Held onto Mettaton so he wouldn't keep going, knowing Mettaton wouldn't risk Sans.
Dumb fucking luck, that's all it is. Being rational doesn't work. Being manipulative doesn't work, plus it's unbelievably fucked up. He could just tell Tim that if he goes, Sans will just follow him, but that's such a fucked up thing to say and do. He could just grab Tim and teleport him and risk some kind of breakdown, and Tim would hate him, and then he might just try again.
It almost sounds like him and Frisk. Complicated. Something you can't easily name. How he never knows what to do with them, how when he tries, he gets everything, every little thing, completely wrong. Couldn't save them in Quor'toth. Couldn't save Chara. Couldn't just...be a good enough person that Frisk wouldn't need to cut him out of their life like a tumor.
"i get it."
Should have been me.
"i don't...know what to say that'll...keep you here."
He has to try, though, god, he has to keep trying. He can't do this again. And isn't that hilarious? Didn't he just say that of course he can? He can, and he will, keep losing people, and he'll keep on living and surviving and trying to deal with it, because the world, one way or another, never lets him be the first one to go. The one time it did was one of the worst things he has ever, ever done.
"it's not."
It's not so terrible. That's the problem.
"dying is easy. being dead is easy. but then--you wake up."
You wake up in Snowdin, wondering why your chest aches so much, wondering why it feels like your ribs were cracked open and fused back together all wrong. And you think about how there's only really one reason why it would feel that way.
You wake up in your room and your brother stares at you with a look you have never seen before. You check the network and you see your brother using that word, vacation, and he got that from you, didn't he, because you lied to him, you created a code word that only you really knew, but he picked up on it somehow, because he always does. He's always so much more clever and observant that anyone expects.
"you wake up. and then you have to live with it. you have to be alive again. everything aches. your skull--your head is pounding. you breathe and it hurts. you're whole and intact, but something--you can feel something missing. and you have to just keep living. you keep living, and you have to remember what it was like. you have to see the looks on people's faces. you have to live with the fact that i'll know what you've done. and i'm sorry. i'm sorry i did that to you. you'll have to live with the fact that jay will probably find out, because he's...well, he's nosy. they either find out way later, months later, and they look at you like...i mean, death is so commonplace around here, you'd think no one would be freaked out about it anymore. but they are, and that's probably a good thing. that death still has meaning to people."
"they find out a few months from now, and it's this secret you were keeping from them. and every time someone finds out, they look at you the way clem looked at me at movie night. or--they know it while you're gone. and they sit there. they count hours. seconds. they hold a jar of your dust. and then you wake up, and they were waiting for you. you can see it on their face right away. they burst into your room begging you to do something inane and silly so that neither of you have to think about it for a minute. they say how sorry they are, that that happened to you. and if they know, then there's that extra layer. they know you were willing to do that to yourself. they wonder if you'll do it again. they watch you. it's in the back of their heads from then on. they're constantly waiting, constantly on guard, and they tell themselves they won't let you do that to yourself again. they'll take all the sharp objects out of the room and put plastic covers on all the sharp corners, like that'll really dissuade someone with so much determination. they treat you like a bomb that could go off at any time. like you're fragile."
He slumps against the tree. Talking too much. Speechifying. Doesn't he always? This isn't going to change anything. Like he said--you can't really stop someone with that much Determination.
"you wake up, and it's so, so much worse."