Flipping the script(swapfell)part 1

chapter 3

Stupid....he was so STUPID....!

Papyrus had grown BORED of him...of THEM. And he had been too stupid to realize it.

Sans scowled, wiping his eye sockets furiously. He HATED being played for a fool; he had to endure it day after day in the labs from people he didn't even LIKE, but to have Papyrus...his own BROTHER do that to him...!

He let out a loud growl, drawing his arm back and lobbing the book over a cliff before sitting on the ground and hugging his knees.

After everything he did for Papyrus...after every word he kept to himself, every meal he cooked, dish he washed, piece of armor he cleaned, every night he would submit himself to Papyrus...and it was too much effort for PAPYRUS?

Fine. Fucking FINE, Paps.

Spare the effort.

Papyrus hadn't gone after Sans.

Sans hadn't stopped by Papyrus's room when he finally came home.

And the days that came after were even louder in their silence until it became unbearably deafening.

The system that they had began to crumble; Sans began making enough food for himself and letting Papyrus make his own food. Things that Papyrus had habitually left were now remaining when he went to get them. Things that were different, but tolerable.

But Sans's suffocating silence, his cold disposition, and dismissive behavior were NOT tolerable. They....hurt.

Papyrus felt HURT.

For days, he had been wondering just what he did WRONG....why Sans looked utterly heartbroken when he said he didn't want to go through all that extra...stuff.

Not that it hadn't piqued his interest, no....no, some of the things in that book were actually rather hot. If the fact that their relationship wasn't taboo enough, THOSE things were just icing on the cake.

But the thought of raising a hand to Sans, even for something that might be pleasurable....he couldn't do it. There would be NO pleasure for him if he inflicted pain on Sans.

And of course, he couldn't articulate that, and he ended up saying something that hurt Sans anyway.

Papyrus leaned against his windowsill, letting his cigarette smoke sift through the open window. He didn't have to will to leave his room until he absolute HAD to...which was normally to spend time with Sans. But Sans didn't want anything to do with him now. There was no reason to leave.

He hated times like this; more than once, he had time off from work and Sans was stuck in the labs during times when all hands were needed on a big project, and he was utterly alone. This was no better than those times of loneliness, only now it was WORSE since Sans was willingly refusing to acknowledge his presence.

He polished off his fourth consecutive cigarette, hoping that at some point he'd succumb to a nicotine coma but knowing he wouldn't. It was the most minimum of distraction he could muster up as he waited for either his short days off were over, or until Sans decided to talk to him again.

Distractions were a necessity for minds like his. It was like a motion machine that needed to be in constant movement or it would power down completely. So be it either something big like training and peacekeeping or small like interacting with his brother or chain smoking, it kept him moving and minutely distracted from himself.

Papyrus rubbed his free hand over his eye sockets, feeling the weight of his physical and mental fatigue creep up on him; he hadn't been able to sleep at all since that altercation, and the reasonings behind it only added more to the burden. It was like a heavy blanket of blackness that latched on and refused to let go, no matter what he did or how he acted. Usually...only Sans was able to ease that burden. His brother's smile, touches, holds...it made it easier to get up in the morning and get back to work.

That motion machine in his head was slowing to a dull crawl that made time sludge by and put weight on his bones, making him barely able to raise his cigarette to finish it off completely before his hand dropped on the windowsill, the very last of it snuffing out in the cold air. 'Perfect analogy for my life,' he thought bitterly. Wouldn't it just be something if his soul snuffed out too, his dust sifting in the air like the ashes until it was indistinguishable from the snow.

Who would care? Alphys would just take his spot as Captain. She'd been eyeing his job for awhile now. The other Guardsmen certainly wouldn't care. He had no real friends to speak of, and Sans...

….Sans....

…........would Sans even care?

Did Sans even care NOW?

God, what a sobering thought that was NOT helping the gears in his head turn any faster.

What DID make the gears rev up was the thought of leaving his room. Going downstairs. Finding Sans. Apologizing for whatever it was he did. Hugging his brother until that heavy proverbial blanket was unburdened from his shoulders, and things being okay again.

Do it.

Get up, you lazybones.

Go to Sans.

Do it NOW, before you shut down forever!

Papyrus was out of his room before he even realized what he was doing, taking two steps at a time down the stairs, his brother's name dying halfway out of his mouth when he saw the coat missing from the coat rack and the house dead quiet.

Sans was gone.