Maybe One Day (Geno Sans x Reader)

Ch. 9: Day 1, Part 1

I groaned, cracking open an eyelid.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes and stretching. I heard soft breathing near me, and curious, I opened my eyes.

Sans was laid back on the couch next to me, still sleeping. His chest rose and fell with each breath he took. He looked...peaceful. I could've sworn that there was a ghost of a smile hovering around his face.

A swipe of a knife. Blood pouring from a wound. A skeleton teetering on the edge of death, saved by the death screen.

I screwed my eyes shut, covering them with my hands. The images still flashed behind my eyelids. I know Frisk was only trying to help, but still, the pain hit me like a wrecking ball. (Miley Cyrus, I know. Don't spam lyrics. Please.)

I gritted my teeth. I dug my nails into my palms and pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. My soul throbbed. This reminded me of how I felt when Mom died.

I'm sure my hands were bleeding now. Tears pricked the edge of my eyes, and I felt my fleeting moment of happiness slip away from my grasp.

She was so young when she died of breast cancer: just about thirty eight years old. Her life had barely begun, and it was already being taken away from her.

Peter was just a year old when she passed away, and Gianna was five. More than old enough to miss her. Since Peter had never known a mother, I had had to substitute at twenty. I remember, both when he was young and occasionally when he got older, he would call me 'Mommy,' especially when he wasn't entirely thinking straight. Instead of warming my heart, it hurt it. Badly. I didn't want him to think of me as his mother. I wanted our mother to be called 'Mommy,' not me, a poor excuse for a stand-in.

And then...five years later...what happened.

I could never FORGIVE myself.

I laughed dryly at the irony.

It's funny.

I could FORGIVE everyone in the world for anything...

Except myself.

I heard a groan, and my eyes flew open. Sans was coming to.

I watched as his 'eyes' opened. He let out a yawn (despite the lack of lungs...I'd have to ask him about that), and stretched (without any muscles to stretch).

His gaze flickered over to me. We didn't say anything as he studied my face a moment.

Sans shifted position so he was closer to me, reached out a hand, and placed it on my cheek, wiping my tears away. "You've been crying," he said quietly. "Why?"

My stare switched to the floor for a minute, then back into his eye sockets. My E/C eyes searched his white pinpricks. They held so much pain and sorrow—I couldn't even begin to describe what I saw within him. A darkness had clouded over his soul, and somehow, little old me had made the sunshine peek through. But still, there was so much behind his curtain I couldn't see. I wanted to look past it. However, to do that, I needed to let him see past mine.

I took a deep breath. "My mum," I whispered. "She died of breast cancer six years ago." Thinking about her made my throat clog up again. I had to fight the tears coming to my eyes.

Sans remained quiet, looking at me with this look on his face that I couldn't decipher. After a while, he finally reached out and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leaning into a side hug. This small show of affection, basically an "I'm listening, I promise," was enough to make me break out into ugly crying.

"It was so hard," I sobbed. "She loved all of us so much. She gave us everything. When she died...I'm pretty sure a piece of me died with her. I couldn't support the rest of us, but I pretended I did and put on a smile. It was all I could ever do."

"Yeah," Sans chuckled softly. "Same here, kiddo. Same here."

(I'm probably a demon for this, but I'll leave it here for now. I thought it was a good place to stop, but I'll upload a part two when I can. Love you all so much, Lunarlings!)