Comfort Zone

-Chapter 2-

Ok, ok. I KNOW I said I'll post once a month, but I got a bit excited for this, and I had enough spare time. Sooooo.... I decided to post another chapter.

Our dear Inky squid is here to harrass our faaavv Sansy~

This chap might be a teeny weeny bit boring for ya'll to read, cause it sure was boring to write. :>

Ok, I'm getting off topic. Consider this next weeks chapter, I'm just posting early.

Also, is anyone reading these? I don't want this 2 go 2 waste.... TuT

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First, there was someone. Sans couldn't recall who, only that it was someone he once considered... close?

Then there was no one. It was emptiness. Silence. Devoid of anything and everything. The darkness was all-consuming. It tugged at Sans's fibula, slowly, almost methodically at first. Then the tugs increased, both in quantity and strength. Sans felt HIM tug at his jacket, his arms, his face. He was being practically smothered in black, empty nothingness. Because that's what HE was. Nothing. He didn't exist anymore, so how could he be something?

As the tugs and pulls grew more painful and vicious, Sans remained passive. He simply sat there, swimming in nothingness, while maintaining what one would call a perfect poker-face. He already knew what would happen anyways. It was no use resisting. Ġ4§73Ř did this at random nights. If Sans hadn't known better, he would've thought that HE was just trying to annoy him. But he did know better, so he also kne-

A sharp tug at his eye-sockets reminded him of his situation. From the edge of Sans's peripheral, he could make out a long, skeletal face, which had 2 long scars jutting from both its eye sockets. One scar was located above it's eye socket, extending all the way to the beginning of it's skull, while the other stretched downwards, towards the creature's jawbone. The THING had no body, except for an amorphous glob of ooze that kept the skull afloat.

It gazed at Sans, waiting for him to say something, ANYTHING.

"$4/\/$."

Sans wore a calm, almost bored expression as he held eye-contact with the figure.

"$4/\/$, P/£4$3, 74lk 70 /\/\3."

.

.

.

"¥0U Ç4/\/'7 ÏĠ/\/0Ř3 /\/\3 F0Ř3\/3Ř, $4/\/$."

Sans eventually relented, knowing that this would continue every night until he cooperated. Damnit, why did Ġ4§73Ř have to get everything he wanted? Well, almost everything. Either that, or Sans was just weak-willed.

"Whaddya want, G? Ain't it enough that yer stalkin' me in my dreams?"

"$4N$."

"What?" He muttered somewhat grumpily. "Spit it out already."

Ġ4§73Ř glared at Sans before continuing, rather painfully,"7Ħ3 /\/\4ÇĦÏ/\/3."

"What about the machine?" Sans replied, almost daring Ġ4§73Ř to continue. "I fixed it. Isn't that what you wanted? for someone to finish your life's work? to finish what you couldn't?"