entrancelogs | you're not broken, just a little bit chipped 'round the edge [closed]

Entry tags:

you're not broken, just a little bit chipped 'round the edge [closed]

Who: Frisk and Sans
Where: The Rabbit Hole
When: 4/09, after this conversation
Rating: PG but tbd since this might get heavy
Summary: The last event was a MESS, everyone's emotions are a MESS, and now Frisk is trying to fix it.
The Story:

True to their word, Frisk shows up at the diner, the Worn Dagger in their pocket. It feels uncomfortably like expecting a quiet conversation to abruptly break out into a brawl when every encounter with Sans has been nothing but utterly placid, for the most part, but they also don't want to break their promise to Chara. Hence, right now their pocket is the safest place for the Dagger to be.

It's not technically the weapon that killed Undyne, but it feels close. It might as well be. They'd apologized to her as best as they could too, even if what happened was only peripherally their fault.

It's time to start turning over a new leaf. Stop wallowing in guilt, and start doing something about it. That's what reaching out to Sans was all about. That, and they're not one hundred percent on that, but they feel like a lot of what they said those past few days could have really hurt him. He might be good at hiding it, but - but they were callous and cruel, right to his face. And that's something they're going to have to address, like it or not.

The place is empty when they get there, so they slip into the nearest table and wait.

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On the one hand, avoidance is sort of Sans's whole thing. Practically his whole lifestyle. Avoid responsibility, avoid moving, try to avoid death when it's thrown at you. Avoid confrontation, certainly.

He would be perfectly happy to just pretend that whole weekend never happened, to just move on, but some of the things that were said can't just be left to lie. Not just because he feels guilty about them, which he certainly does. Sans has left worst things to just fester, and even under normal circumstances it's a terrible idea. This time there's no Reset coming. He has to keep living in Wonderland with all these people.

They need to clear the air or no one's gonna be able to stand each other ever again.

He takes his time getting to the diner, partially because he just wants a bit of time to collect himself. Apologizing...kind of sucks. Once he gets there he spots Frisk, then collects two cups of cocoa from the diner counter. It's a cocoa sort of day.

He takes a seat across from Frisk and gives them a grin.

"hey kid. thanks again for the ketchup."

Frisk flashes a weak smile back when he shows up.

"I hope it's good." They're not really sure what constitutes high-quality ketchup, so they'd just kept trying until they ended up with one that looked pretty fancy. Hopefully Chara won't mind the small pile of ketchup bottles in their shared room now. Frisk was sure to leave them on their own side of the room, but even so, it might be a little to red for now.

...And now they don't know how to segue from "ketchup" to "by the way I'm sorry I acted so strange and awful to you." There's no right way to do this, is there.

"It's, um...it's been...weird. Since..."

Well, it's certainly been A Day.

Honestly even Sans isn't sure what constitutes high-quality ketchup. He's found "fancy ketchup" before, but fancy just seems to be a word they use to indicate that the flavor is a little different. He read somewhere that there's something called artisan ketchup and man, if he ever makes it to the Surface in any permanent capacity, he is diving into that scene.

But anyway.

"i tried some already. it's pretty great."

It actually is pretty great. The flavors are somehow a little bit more subtle than usual. It's nice.

Frisk isn't one to hesitate, though, at least not for very long. They jump right in. Sans cradles his mug of cocoa in his hands and leans back in his chair a little. He watches the steam rise from the mug in little swirls.

"yeah. weird."

That's one word for it. Awkward, exhausting, depressing, those are some other good words. Sans has already talked with Papyrus, had to spill almost every last one of the secrets he's worked so hard to keep. That sort of thing is more than just exhausting, it's draining. Sans feels emptied out. In more than just the usual sense that comes with being a skeleton.

"kid, i gotta..."

Apologizing is hard. Sans rotates his mug slightly, back and forth.

"i...owe you an apology. i, uh. all those things i said. i..."

He rubs the back of his neck, fingers clicking against his cervical vertebrae.

"that was really awful of me to say. it was...really unfair to you."

"I - I said some awful things too." It spills out before they can really temper those words with something easier to start with. They pull their own mug close, lets the creeping warmth hum at the pads of their palms and fingertips. It's soothing. Too hot to drink just yet, but soothing to just hold something, anchor themselves here for a bit.

"I know neither of us were really, um, ourselves. And I gave Chara the Knife and it all just got so - so messed up." They duck their head at that admission, but it's true. They were passive, drained, gray, empty, and all it had taken was Chara's request, and they'd done it and then Chara had gone and killed Undyne with it and then they'd died and it just - it all just piled up into one big mess of an event.

They swallow stiffly, force themselves to continue as best as they can. "So - so I'm sorry, too."

"everyone said some awful things." He can concede that. It's not just about him. No one was in their right mind.

He lets go of his mug of cocoa and turns his hands over, palms up.

"i just. i don't want you to think that i think that way about you. that i secretly, i dunno. hate you or something. or that i don't believe in you."

That event wasn't about honesty--it was about a lack of inhibition. A lack of control. It was just easy to see an emotionless kid sitting there and think that's all Frisk was. An indifferent, distant little god, toying with the world because they were bored and thoughtless.

That's not how it is. Sans knows. It's too complicated to boil it down to just that.

He's not surprised that Frisk gave Chara the knife. Or rather, he's just not surprised that the knife somehow made it here. Chara was always going to end up with that knife--it's how things always go.

"it's okay. it's like i said. the knife doesn't even really matter."

You put enough intent behind it and anything can be a weapon, even a fist or a stick. The Real Knife is just a symbol. It just looks scary. It's not like the anomaly ever killed Undyne with the Real Knife anyway, not at home. They can't reach the knife until they get to the castle, after all. At that point there's only two, maybe three people left for the anomaly to kill.

And Sans, well.

He thinks of the hallway. Not the golden one back home--the perfectly normal entryway here in the mansion. It's just a knife. It's...it's easy to pretend that it's just a knife until you see that soft, sickly glow, the way it leaves red tracers in the air as it moves.

Sans props his chin on his hand.

"i guess everyone has a lot to apologize for."

"Because we're...we're not really us without our emotions, right?" That's what they've been hoping, anyway. That when they were empty, when they were all empty, it was just easier to say horrible things because it wasn't entirely them saying it. Papyrus without his outspoken optimism is...hardly Papyrus at all, right?

"Chara and I...we talked, since then." Well, "talking" is one word for it. Does it count as a talk when most of the time was spent crying, literally crying into each other's arms as they lingered on the precipice of something terrible?

Frisk hesitates for a moment before reaching slowly into their pocket and laying the Worn Dagger carefully across the table. It's not the red-glowing artifact that the knife was. It sits there, innocent and scuffed and ordinary.

"They let me take it back, so they wouldn't use it to hurt anyone else."

"yeah. exactly." He smiles faintly, glad they're on the same page. Apologizing is hard and awkward enough without them talking past each other or something.

"it's the same in reverse, too. pile on too much emotion and you're not really you, either. if you can't think straight or reason you're just kinda...i dunno. an animal."

He nods. He sort of figured they would talked. The two of them live together, after all--it would be hard to avoid that. Sans certainly couldn't avoid it with Papyrus for very long.

He frowns a little when Frisk pulls out the knife. For a moment he can't even tell that it's the same knife. But it must be. The exact same shape and size, just without the...red.

"that's good. i'm glad they're being reasonable." He tilts his head at the knife. "i didn't know it could just turn into a normal knife."

"It depends on who's using it," they say, looking at the small, innocuous thing on the table. Hard to believe that it killed Undyne. Hard to believe it could be so dangerous. Hard to believe it really is Chara's knife, and not Asriel's tool for cutting vines and weeds in the garden at New Home. "It changes. Worn Dagger, or Real Knife."

Guess as to which is the more damaging. Sans probably recognized the Knife, they realize with a faint shiver. They swung at him with it, movements mechanical and precise and driven, enough times for the memory to be scalded into their brain. And his, probably.

The thought is sobering.

"And they - they want to change too. Be better, I think." Someone with that much LOVE can still change, they know that for a fact. They've done it themselves in many a timeline. "And I don't think they were lying when they said it."

"i see."

At least like this it actually is easy to pretend it's just a normal knife. It's practically blunt. Not that it would matter with someone like Sans, but the idea that this is the same knife that killed Undyne...

It almost seems impossible.

He laces his fingers together on the table.

"well. good for them." He pauses, deciding to at least give Frisk the benefit of the doubt. "i guess...up to a certain point, maybe anyone can change."

Chara might have more LOVE now, but they didn't enjoy that event any more than Sans or anyone else did.

They...they owe Chara that much, at least, after watching them completely crumble and deconstruct on the floor of their shared room. And things might not be easier for a while, but eventually maybe they can be. Frisk is an optimist about these sorts of things, though they wished they hadn't gotten angry.

"I didn't want you to think I didn't think we were friends, or, or anything." The words tumble out before Frisk can really work on an adequate segue. They pull their mug of cocoa closer to themselves, hunching around it awkwardly, like shrinking back will protect them from their own words. "Because we are - we...I don't want to go back and RESET again. I want to keep our ending how it was."

Happy. But Asriel, and Chara - still trapped underground and in Frisk's SOUL, respectively. What kind of ending is that for them?

The pace and pitch of their words increases as they go on.

"And I don't want you to think I don't like you, or that you're supposed to know everything, because that isn't fair, and I'm - I'm sorry. I know you know I didn't really mean it, but I'm still - I'm still sorry."

This is hard. Not just because apologizing sucks and because that weekend really sucked, but...

Because not everything that was said was untrue. Most of it was, but not all of it. Sans really has wondered what the human must actually think of him, must actually think of all of them. That maybe on some level, the human--or some version of them--really does think of them as nothing important, just pointless ants under a mound of dirt.

"hey, hey. it's okay. slow down. i don't think that. i'm..."

He sighs heavily, rubs at his forehead and takes hold of the cocoa mug again, just to have something to hold onto.

"listen, i'm just...i'm not used to talking about all this stuff with people. i, uh. i had to explain a lot of it to papyrus the other day, and..."

And it wasn't a good time. A large part of Sans wishes he could take that all back. Just not answer Papyrus's questions and keep up the lies. Papyrus would likely never see him the same way ever again, but...well, it's not like he's going to see Sans the same now, either. At least this way, they'll keep actually talking.

"it's...complicated stuff. i guess it's--it's good we can kinda. talk about it now. i just. i j-just don't really know how."

His grip tightens on the mug.

"i'm sorry too, frisk."

Sorry for the things he said. Sorry he's not better at this. Sorry he can't be a damn functional adult for a kid going through stuff way too complicated and messed up and heavy for any kid to deal with, even a Determined one.

They feel bad for that outburst almost at once and wish they could claw it back. Didn't think to SAVE before this, did they? Not that it would matter with Sans. They screw their eyes shut, open them again, look at the tabletop, the brown-white swirls of foam cresting their cocoa, anything but Sans's eyesockets, scared of what they might see. Sadness, or regret, or even those empty sockets, devoid of his usual light and cheer, boring into their SOUL.

Still afraid of his judgment. Despite everything.

"I don't either," they whisper at last. "After everything everyone said. Everything that - that happened."

And now they're adding more weight to his shoulders. Was this a mistake?

No second-guessing now, Frisk. No going back. Only going forward from here on out.

They don't know how to do this. Really, they don't. They don't want to start peppering him with questions after all this.

"...I never got bored down there, you know." They feel like they need to say that much, at least. "You were all people. You weren't just - pieces to be moved around. You were the first people I met who actually wanted to be - my friends."

Sans feels like garbage. Absolute garbage. Not that that's much different from the norm, but god, this is so much worse.

The kid is afraid of him. Afraid of what he thinks of them. He never should have said any of the crap he said in the woods. He should have held back, shouldn't have gotten so upset at the sight of an emotionless Frisk. Frisk, blank and empty, so much like the human he ends up facing in the golden hallway. It's never Chara, even if they're the one pulling the strings, because back there he doesn't know about Chara. It's just Frisk, Frisk's face.

That's not how it is here. He's supposed to know better. He's supposed to understand how complicated all of this is, all the nuances.

"aw, kid."

He knows. Of course, of course Frisk cared about them, of course they must have. Even if they didn't always, even if sometimes they were indifferent, even if sometimes they just killed everyone. It's absurd to think that they could care all the time, because Sans knows how hard it is to care at all. And it's just as absurd to think that they never cared. Because who would bother? Why put in that kind of effort for something so empty?

"i know. i know you cared. still care. i was just...angry and...not thinking."

Stop it, Frisk. They can almost hear the mocking singsong snaking into the back of their head, stop being such a crybaby. Except no one's in their head but Frisk right now, and they can't fork that off onto someone else's lingering consciousness.

They sip at their cocoa to give their hands something to do. It's hot. It burns the tip of their tongue and makes it tingle.

"You had a right to be." They...they kind of put him through hell, didn't they? They kind of put everyone through hell. Ha...ha-ha... "I never told anyone why I did...what I did. Why sometimes I - I killed some monsters and spared others."

It's hardly excusable behavior. The first time, maybe, they could have interpreted the monsters coming at them as having some kind of hostile intent. Perhaps that would be forgivable. But then they RESET, and RESET, and RESET, and soon people were being killed who had no reason to be. Toriel never wanted them dead. Papyrus would never kill them, even accidentally, and would never be anything other than humorously ineffectual in impeding their efforts to get to the surface.

A reason. Just not a good one. Not a good enough reason to prod at a kid unable to convey their emotions, to take advantage of a situation like that. Sans was pretty much just asking for a reason to be upset. To really justify all the swirling emotions in him.

Awfully hypocritical.

"you can't...really entirely blame yourself. no more than chara can."

It's both of them. Always both of them. He has to keep telling himself that.

"Who else is gonna do it?" they say weakly, with the air of a bad joke, and immediately regret it. They just get so used to taking things back, and keep forgetting that it isn't always a viable option.

Who else is going to apologize? And, god, would that even remotely cut it? Sorry for killing you that one time, those fifty times, and then they can just laugh it off and sweep it under the rug? What kind of friend does that? How would everyone take it? It's easier telling people how they died so many times to get to where they are, but how's that any better?

"Even if it was...both of us, a lot of the time, I'm still halfway-responsible, aren't I?"

He sighs heavily, studying Frisk as if really seeing them for the first time. He knew there was always a weight on the kid, but he had no idea just what a damn burden it was. You give a kid such unimaginable power and you expect them to just carry it forever? That's not fair. Of course they're gonna break sometimes.

It's one thing to just be caught up in the Resets. But it must be just as rough to be the cause of them, to have to face the kind of power you wield, to come up against the idea that you hold people's lives in your hands.

"halfway is better than all the way. trust me."

He's quiet for awhile. He sips at his cocoa.

"i guess i never realized how...how tough it was for you. it was easy to just blame you, those times. and then eventually it...was easier to not care. but, you know. i should have asked sooner. maybe if we'd just talked or something..."

And none of this is going to carry over to back home. It's not even going to matter. They'll both just slip back into their roles, never fully understanding what's going on. Maybe never fully understanding each other at all.

"But why bother, if I just set everything back again?" They shrug limply, again staring down at the contents of their mug without seeing it. "I mean...I didn't really make it easy, did I?"

They imagine watching someone come through the Ruins coated in dust, wearing the skin of someone who might've been a friend. They imagine seeing a human who watches patiently, almost silently, never knowing if they'll abruptly change their mind and decide to take everything from you in an instant. Knowing that if you do live, if the people you love live, it's only because they willed it.

* Your fate is up to you now!

Only it isn't, really, is it? The Angel will come, and the Underground will go empty. One way or another. The illusion of choice.

"You couldn't even know if I was a friend. Just had to wait and see."

Hurts to say. Hurts to admit to themselves, let alone out loud.

Sans is...at a loss.

He's not good at this. He's never been good at comforting people, knowing what to say. He's not even sure that comforting Frisk is what they really want or need right now. Sometimes you just can't handle it, can't see it as anything but frustrating, or piteous, or undeserved.

He's given the kid pep talks before. He always does in the better timelines, but it's not like he ever really gets those right, either. It's not exactly helpful to drop hints, imply at something darker, or just outright tell them that he'd have killed them the instant he saw them if not for that stupid promise.

It's not even really a promise. Not in the way she meant it to be. He watches the kid, but doesn't exactly watch over them. He doesn't protect them. It was more a sort of...compromise. Letting the kid make their own choices, giving them a chance to do the right thing. Giving them dozens of chances to do the right thing.

It's even a pun. Compromise.

Or maybe it's just an excuse for being lazy. So he doesn't have to help the kid fight their way through the Underground, so he doesn't have to kill a child right away. The problem is that by the time he meets the human, it's already too late. People have already died, the timeline has already been corrupted--or it hasn't yet, and the world is just holding its breath, locked for the time being in a neutral state, always on the verge of tipping one way or the other.

It's all just too complicated, too varied. Too difficult to think about and come to any kind of decision. Easier to just sit back and watch and wait.

This is what happens when people like me take it easy.

He wonders which timeline he said that in.

Sans folds his hands on the table.

"but we're friends now. right? here. and back in my timeline. soon it'll reset but...i've kinda just learned to live in the here and now. cause if you try to apply the logic of countless timelines to just one moment...well, you can't do it. it's too much. so. for now."

He closes his eyesockets briefly.

"for now, we're friends. for now, things aren't so bad. everyone's alive again. the event's over. this stuff's probably gonna affect everyone for awhile but. well, hey. nothing lasts forever. nothing at all. and, i dunno. that's not too bad once you get used to it."

There's not much they can do in anticipation for that inevitability, is there? Everything will snap back to how it was, and they'll forget this place. They'll forget Chara, and Sans, and Undyne, and Alphys, and how tried to tell them all everything and mend bridges where they could. It'll go back to a wary game of LOADs and RESETs.

The thought it almost too much to bear.

"So we just have to accept that we...that it'll all just go back to the way it was?"

Their knee-jerk reaction, of course, is that they don't want to. They don't want to accept that it'll all go away and they'll just forget again.

There's a sickening wrench in their gut when they realize that this must be exactly how it is in anticipation of a RESET in one of the better timelines. Not wanting to go back. Knowing you will. Knowing it's inexorable, unpreventable, and hating that you have no control over that.

"I...don't want to forget," they whisper. But we're friends now.

* I don't want to let go.

He smiles a little. Of course not. Of course telling the Determined human that they have to accept something, that things are how they are, is just going to lead to resistance. They wouldn't be Frisk if they didn't try to reject the status quo, the seemingly inevitable.

"yeah. i mean. what else can we do?"

People like Frisk, and Papyrus and Undyne as well--they can fight and fight and fight against something, throw everything they are against the walls of reality until either they break or reality does. Maybe it's a little foolish, but it's also incredibly admirable. But Sans just doesn't have that kind of energy. He tires out too quickly.

"but, you know. acceptance isn't the same as giving up. it's just. telling yourself you're gonna live with how things are. try to make individual moments a little better. i dunno. i just don't see much point in worrying about things that are inevitable. but maybe that's just me."

Sans is pretty okay with how things are now, here. Whatever happens happens. Everything is always only temporary, after all. There's a lot of freedom in just enjoying the fact that you were lucky enough to have something so fleeting and temporary. The past is the past, and other timelines are other timelines.

"i think it'll be okay, kid."

A kid with the power to bend time doesn't come to accept something like inevitability too easily, but there's a sort of calming wisdom to Sans's advice. When there's nothing you can do but wait for something to change and shift and happen, why not make the wait worthwhile? They have friends here, people who care about them. It's more than they ever had before they tumbled down that hole in Mt. Ebott.

They breathe in and out again, slowing down the racing tempo of their thoughts.

"Okay."

Okay. And then what? What comes after okay?

"I thought...you know, since we're all here, and we're not going anywhere, I thought I should just try and, and tell everyone the truth about - everything. Not just the SAVEs, but - but also the RESETs."

The EXP. The death. The dust and the lack of it. A knot of tension coils in their chest just at the thought of it, but don't they have a responsibility? They're not above consequences, and now's their chance to face those consequences directly.

They've already told Alphys some of it, and Sans knows far more than he should thanks to their unchecked honesty from the last few days. Papyrus still needs to hear about the extent of it, but his cheerful optimism and acceptance is more than enough to rival Frisk's own. Honestly, it's mostly Undyne they're worried most about. Her wrath, her understandable wariness, her judgment. Too bad they already left her a note.

He sips his hot cocoa, pleased that Frisk seems to be calming down a little. He's feeling a little better about all this himself. Not great, but better. It'll do.

His expression is mostly neutral as Frisk explains what they want to do. Perhaps his eyesockets close just slightly. If that's what Frisk wants to do, then that's what they're going to do. At this point it's not like it'll make things much worse.

"up to you, kid. might...even be for the best. heh. had to get into all of that with papyrus the other day. i'm just so used to keeping it a secret."

It feels weird to talk about it. Dangerous. Pointless, of course. Sans is sure there must have been timelines where he either told the others or they found out. It never ended up mattering in the long run, but he wishes he knew whether it mattered in the short run. He knows that most of the time, people just don't believe him.

"though maybe..." He lowers his voice. "you might wanna leave out the part about asriel. just...you know. in case toriel or the king ever show up. i don't know if that's something those two would...want to know."

"Y...yeah." Haha, wow, they sure messed that one up a few days ago. Their cheeks redden as they sink into their chair a little lower, sipping at their cocoa to give their hands something to do. "That...I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Or anyone. I really did promise Chara that, and him, and it wasn't fair, and it..."

Their expression drops into its familiar flatness. Closed. Locked.

"It doesn't matter anymore. He disappeared. Went back home, I guess."

To be a flower. Emotionless, soulless, devoid of anything but his regret and his resentment. It wasn't their secret to share, and what's more, it was an outright disrespect of Asriel's final wishes. It makes them sick to remember it.

* You PROMISED.

"wasn't really your fault. you weren't thinking. but i'm sorry, kid. if i could forget it, i would."

There's a lot he would forget if he could. Just take some steel wool and scrub the inside of his skull until it's all gone, until he can just be Sans, whoever the hell that is. Sans without a lab in his basement, without the awareness of timelines, without feeling the stumbling sensation of a Load or a Reset.

Sans sans.

Heh. Funny.

"he did? ah. i see."

On the one hand, good riddance. The flower isn't Asriel. The flower has done exactly what Frisk and Chara have done--but unlike Frisk, and maybe unlike Chara, the flower is incapable of regret. Incapable of feeling anything.

But on the other hand, that's going to make things very dangerous if the flower ever shows up here again.

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you're not broken, just a little bit chipped 'round the edge [closed]

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