Monochrome

A Break -Chapter One

Sans lay spread across the floor of his room. It was way too late, the time ticked forward at a painfully slow pace in his mind. The exact numbers stuck in his skull, as he counted the seconds personally. One, two, three... His back groaned in exhaustion as he shifted, his joints throbbing in futile protest. Six, seven, eight... His head burst, mind-splitting in half as pain blossomed from a sensitive spot. Ten, eleven, twelve... Augh, damn... That hurt... Sans contemplated the point of keeping score, the point of sitting on the floor in self-inflicted agony. But the ever-increasing number burned into his mind was no longer a voluntary act.

The hours flew by, maybe two? Three? Hard to tell when he was only counting the seconds; eight thousand four hundred and thirty-six so far. Give or take. His hyperactive thoughts swirled like flies in a jar, one interchangeable variable keeping them grounded.

The sky had begun to taper off, the stars slowly fading from view, as lines of dull grey-blue, -looked like cyan- infiltrated the dark of the night. Bringing the sounds of early birds, and their excessive chirping. He was always awed by the utter silence, pure and unbridled, that could exist in such a noisy world. That could exist period. It was like nothing he could imagine, the creatures of the dark quieting, as cool noiseless ecstasy reigned, its time on planet earth short as it was rarely observed. There was a slight nagging in the back of his mind as the silence ebbed, reminding him of his responsibility. The night-time was a time without it after all, a time where everything was asleep, uniting the world in a chorus of soft snoring, and peaceful dreams. Spare few, the only witness to the great absence of consciousness.

He glanced out his window one last time, his eyes growing wistful, before pushing himself to his feet, teeth gritting as the fatigue hit him, hard. His legs wobbled underneath him unsteadily from the small amount of effort. Sans collapsed on his bed with a small strangled groan, he let it stretch on, milking it for all it was worth. It was cold, he was shivering. But it was also exceedingly hot. He pulled his covers over his head anyway, the cloth pressing against him softly, like a warm embrace. The kind he missed so fervently. The backward shivering continued to wrack his frame. All wrong...

Sans heard the door from across the hall open, then shut softly. Papyrus had slept in, he usually raised with the birds and the cyan light. Maybe he had a bad day yesterday... Sans frowned, deciding yes, he would get up today. But not yet, it couldn't have been that late yet. And besides, the feeling of being so detrimentally tired was soothing to him, while he lay against the mattress. It always was a relief, the knowledge that you could just fall asleep, while so near the edge of it... it was probably the best feeling in the world. His eyes drifted closed, a faint smile tickling the edge of his mouth...

There was a wracking feeling in his chest, as he fell awake, his eyes shooting open abruptly.

Oh... He fell asleep too fast again.

He twirled his foot around, completely enraptured with the movement, the ball of his foot clicked rhythmically, his ankle popping the ache out of his bones with a satisfying sort of finality. Though, the feeling did not last, as his stiff bones tended to refuse peace. Maybe, if he focused hard enough on not focusing, the movement would hypnotize him to sleep.

No such luck.

The chances of Papyrus waking him up right about now were slim, the sun was fully up, he could assume the morning was well populated with billions of awakened souls by now, the time was around nine. Sans tried to figure out if he wanted Papyrus to wake him, or leave him to figure out if he wanted Papyrus to wake him or leave him to figure out if he wanted Papyrus to wake him or leave him to-

It was hard comprehending anything now, it was all fuzzy and warm. The strange shivering was taking a step back, the warmth of his blankets enveloping him in a cocoon of comfort. The drumming of his head gave way until he was barely conscious, eyes bleary with exhausted tears. His room was doing a little jig around his bed, waving and shaking. Sans laughed at it. It was funny. He kept laughing. His giggles shortly turned into sobs, shaking his whole frame.