Maybe One Day (Geno Sans x Reader)

Ch. 24: Day 164

POV: Y/N, ???

I was back. At the doors.

No.

No no no no no.

I walked forward, the dust from my mother still coating my boots. Still running along the edge of my knife. The sheen glinted at me, and I felt my mouth curl into a sick smile.

Horror bubbled inside my throat.

I tried to fight.

But I just felt weak.

I pushed open the door, feeling the cold rush into me. I curled into myself, whimpering silently at the horrifying feeling growing in the pit of my stomach and the images flashing in front of my eyes from last time.

Heartlessly murdering so many innocent Ruin monsters...

And...

And my...

My...

My MOTHER.

My mind seemed to fog a little, before attaching a different word to the title.

Our mother.

Our.

My body seemed to lock up on its own accord. I felt her snarling at me. I felt her anger pulsing, overwhelming my poor soul.

She's dead. I killed our mother.

I marched through the open doors, the knife shining in the 'light.'

The snow crunches under my feet. My arms swing carelessly. I'm almost reminded of another time, long, long ago, from someone else's memories.

I came up to a bridge decked with those too-wide bars.

Inner me smiled fondly, remembering who built this.

Outer me grinned cruelly, knowing who was just behind me—

"Hey human."

I pocketed the knife.

"Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"

It took me a split second to recognize the voice.

"Turn around and shake my hand."

I obeyed, putting away my creepy face and replacing it with a poker one.

As soon as I shook his hand, a fart blasted through the air.

I was dying inside of laughter.

My poker face didn't change. Not even a twitch.

A skeleton, dressed in a blue bomber jacket (with a very fluffy hood), a white tee, black gym shorts with a white stripe, and pink slippers.

Sans.

"Heh. Whoopie cushion in the hand trick. It's always funny." He chuckled to himself, removing his hand and putting it in his pocket.

I could see the anger, the tiredness, and the pain rolling off him in waves. He never showed it in his face, but his eyes...they were a different story, if you knew how to read them right.

The slightest narrowing. The grey under the sockets. The crinkling at the sight of my face.

He HATED ME.

My soul quivered at the realization. No, he could never hate me. I loved him, and he loved me. I didn't...I...

I did do something.